#svart-records — Public Fediverse posts

One of my absolute favorite articles of clothing in my closet is a beat-up, slightly holey, faded black Darkthrone t-shirt from 1998, with the band logo on the front, and “True Norwegian Black Metal” printed across the back. I share this, for what I hope are obvious reasons, to explain what initially drew me to Twin Serpent’s sophomore record, True Norwegian Blackgrass. That, and it was floating in an exclusive area of the sump pit reserved for those nuggets Steel specifically says need a review. Four years removed from their Loyal Blood Records 2022 debut, Feels Like Heaven, North Of Hell, which garnered comparisons to Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Tom Waits, this “cute outsider band” from Trondheim has a new label, Svart Records, and on True Norwegian Blackgrass, Twin Serpent teases “12 songs about love, betrayal and black holes with country licks, rock ‘n roll kicks and heaps of punk attitude.” So, coif those multi-colored mohawks, strap on those bullet-belts and arm spikes, and pull those cowboy boots on as we take True Norwegian Blackgrass for a prairie ride.

True Norwegian Blackgrass is a punk-infused, crust-country bluesabilly-thon full of quirky energy. Ditching the corpse paint and blood baths, Twin Serpent’s aesthetic is born from deliberate artistic intent—just scope that cover art touted as “weird, rowdy, and just a little bit black metal.” Face paint? Pfffft! Full body snake paint and no fucks given come standard. Spirited from the start, album opener “Space Heater” glides in on a wave of Dick Dale-esque surf guitar before going full-on Dead Kennedys with oodles of punkish energy and roars from Timo Silvola and Hanna Fauske that would have Fenriz smiling. From there, however, True Norwegian Blackgrass traverses a more eclectic musical terrain without sacrificing its punk moxie. Silvola’s countrified banjo plucks and acoustic strumming bring Bridge City Sinners and The Goddamn Gallows to mind (“Stellar Suicide”), but can folk out too on tracks like “Kipu Kivi,” which also features him chanting in his native Finnish. Back-boning Twin Serpent’s “rock”ier side are Fauske’s driving bass lines, Tony Gonzalez’s electric riffs and leads, and the shifty, exactly-what-we-need-when-we-need-it drumming of Viktor Kristensen. Together, these three bring a bluesy, alt-rock flair that had me feeling everything from Violent Femmes (“Hundromshelvete”) and Days of the New (“Tusen Takk”), to The Cramps (“Radiophobia”). To say True Norwegian Blackgrass seems a scatterbrained stew of styles would be an understatement, but I’ll be damned if Twin Serpent doesn’t pull it off.

Twin Serpent write big hooks, stacking True Norwegian Blackgrass with memorable moments. Whimsical percussion, poppy bass lines, and fuzzy guitar work make “Ærlig Talt” an off-kilter, punky fun ditty, while the catchier-than-thou chorus of the hoe-down-ready “Freak Flag” is stickier than hell, and should inspire mass consumption of cheap beer. My favorite song, ballad “Ain’t Home No More,” features a great harmonic duet between Silvola and Fauske, sung over simple banjo and acoustic guitar before feathering in surging electric chords that, in a live setting, could easily trail off into a stellar jam section. “Holy Ghost,” another tavern-tier stand-out, features more of Silvola and Fauske’s vocal harmonizations and sports a chorus that will have you swaying on your bar stool, arm around your drinking buddy, belting it out while sloshing beer from your pint glass.

Twin Serpent’s versatility is their greatest strength. I imagine they’d fit in just as easily gigging at the local brew pub as they would a barn dance or even Chicago’s Riot Fest. Covering so many musical landscapes, an album like True Norwegian Blackgrass could have easily landed as an unfocused mess. But it’s the vocal interplay, harmonies, and trade-offs between Silvola and Fauske—reminiscent of early B-52’s—keeping things intact. As many different places as this record goes, it still manages to sound like Twin Serpent, and with twelve tracks spanning 37 minutes—most songs clocking in between two and three minutes each—it never loiters long enough to get boring or tiresome. Dubbed “the wizard technician,” Vebjørn Svanberg Numme harnesses all of the foursome’s idiosyncrasies and channels them through a production that perfectly captures everything that makes the Twin Serpent sound tick.

True Norwegian Blackgrass is a wonderful change-of-pace album you could totally spin when you don’t know what to listen to. Twin Serpent have added all the right ingredients to create a recipe loaded with eclectic energy and punk rock attitude. From note one, I was hooked and had more fun with True Norwegian Blackgrass than I’d ever guessed. I fully recommend you give it a try too.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

One of my absolute favorite articles of clothing in my closet is a beat-up, slightly holey, faded black Darkthrone t-shirt from 1998, with the band logo on the front, and “True Norwegian Black Metal” printed across the back. I share this, for what I hope are obvious reasons, to explain what initially drew me to Twin Serpent’s sophomore record, True Norwegian Blackgrass. That, and it was floating in an exclusive area of the sump pit reserved for those nuggets Steel specifically says need a review. Four years removed from their Loyal Blood Records 2022 debut, Feels Like Heaven, North Of Hell, which garnered comparisons to Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Tom Waits, this “cute outsider band” from Trondheim has a new label, Svart Records, and on True Norwegian Blackgrass, Twin Serpent teases “12 songs about love, betrayal and black holes with country licks, rock ‘n roll kicks and heaps of punk attitude.” So, coif those multi-colored mohawks, strap on those bullet-belts and arm spikes, and pull those cowboy boots on as we take True Norwegian Blackgrass for a prairie ride.

True Norwegian Blackgrass is a punk-infused, crust-country bluesabilly-thon full of quirky energy. Ditching the corpse paint and blood baths, Twin Serpent’s aesthetic is born from deliberate artistic intent—just scope that cover art touted as “weird, rowdy, and just a little bit black metal.” Face paint? Pfffft! Full body snake paint and no fucks given come standard. Spirited from the start, album opener “Space Heater” glides in on a wave of Dick Dale-esque surf guitar before going full-on Dead Kennedys with oodles of punkish energy and roars from Timo Silvola and Hanna Fauske that would have Fenriz smiling. From there, however, True Norwegian Blackgrass traverses a more eclectic musical terrain without sacrificing its punk moxie. Silvola’s countrified banjo plucks and acoustic strumming bring Bridge City Sinners and The Goddamn Gallows to mind (“Stellar Suicide”), but can folk out too on tracks like “Kipu Kivi,” which also features him chanting in his native Finnish. Back-boning Twin Serpent’s “rock”ier side are Fauske’s driving bass lines, Tony Gonzalez’s electric riffs and leads, and the shifty, exactly-what-we-need-when-we-need-it drumming of Viktor Kristensen. Together, these three bring a bluesy, alt-rock flair that had me feeling everything from Violent Femmes (“Hundromshelvete”) and Days of the New (“Tusen Takk”), to The Cramps (“Radiophobia”). To say True Norwegian Blackgrass seems a scatterbrained stew of styles would be an understatement, but I’ll be damned if Twin Serpent doesn’t pull it off.

Twin Serpent write big hooks, stacking True Norwegian Blackgrass with memorable moments. Whimsical percussion, poppy bass lines, and fuzzy guitar work make “Ærlig Talt” an off-kilter, punky fun ditty, while the catchier-than-thou chorus of the hoe-down-ready “Freak Flag” is stickier than hell, and should inspire mass consumption of cheap beer. My favorite song, ballad “Ain’t Home No More,” features a great harmonic duet between Silvola and Fauske, sung over simple banjo and acoustic guitar before feathering in surging electric chords that, in a live setting, could easily trail off into a stellar jam section. “Holy Ghost,” another tavern-tier stand-out, features more of Silvola and Fauske’s vocal harmonizations and sports a chorus that will have you swaying on your bar stool, arm around your drinking buddy, belting it out while sloshing beer from your pint glass.

Twin Serpent’s versatility is their greatest strength. I imagine they’d fit in just as easily gigging at the local brew pub as they would a barn dance or even Chicago’s Riot Fest. Covering so many musical landscapes, an album like True Norwegian Blackgrass could have easily landed as an unfocused mess. But it’s the vocal interplay, harmonies, and trade-offs between Silvola and Fauske—reminiscent of early B-52’s—keeping things intact. As many different places as this record goes, it still manages to sound like Twin Serpent, and with twelve tracks spanning 37 minutes—most songs clocking in between two and three minutes each—it never loiters long enough to get boring or tiresome. Dubbed “the wizard technician,” Vebjørn Svanberg Numme harnesses all of the foursome’s idiosyncrasies and channels them through a production that perfectly captures everything that makes the Twin Serpent sound tick.

True Norwegian Blackgrass is a wonderful change-of-pace album you could totally spin when you don’t know what to listen to. Twin Serpent have added all the right ingredients to create a recipe loaded with eclectic energy and punk rock attitude. From note one, I was hooked and had more fun with True Norwegian Blackgrass than I’d ever guessed. I fully recommend you give it a try too.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

One of my absolute favorite articles of clothing in my closet is a beat-up, slightly holey, faded black Darkthrone t-shirt from 1998, with the band logo on the front, and “True Norwegian Black Metal” printed across the back. I share this, for what I hope are obvious reasons, to explain what initially drew me to Twin Serpent’s sophomore record, True Norwegian Blackgrass. That, and it was floating in an exclusive area of the sump pit reserved for those nuggets Steel specifically says need a review. Four years removed from their Loyal Blood Records 2022 debut, Feels Like Heaven, North Of Hell, which garnered comparisons to Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Tom Waits, this “cute outsider band” from Trondheim has a new label, Svart Records, and on True Norwegian Blackgrass, Twin Serpent teases “12 songs about love, betrayal and black holes with country licks, rock ‘n roll kicks and heaps of punk attitude.” So, coif those multi-colored mohawks, strap on those bullet-belts and arm spikes, and pull those cowboy boots on as we take True Norwegian Blackgrass for a prairie ride.

True Norwegian Blackgrass is a punk-infused, crust-country bluesabilly-thon full of quirky energy. Ditching the corpse paint and blood baths, Twin Serpent’s aesthetic is born from deliberate artistic intent—just scope that cover art touted as “weird, rowdy, and just a little bit black metal.” Face paint? Pfffft! Full body snake paint and no fucks given come standard. Spirited from the start, album opener “Space Heater” glides in on a wave of Dick Dale-esque surf guitar before going full-on Dead Kennedys with oodles of punkish energy and roars from Timo Silvola and Hanna Fauske that would have Fenriz smiling. From there, however, True Norwegian Blackgrass traverses a more eclectic musical terrain without sacrificing its punk moxie. Silvola’s countrified banjo plucks and acoustic strumming bring Bridge City Sinners and The Goddamn Gallows to mind (“Stellar Suicide”), but can folk out too on tracks like “Kipu Kivi,” which also features him chanting in his native Finnish. Back-boning Twin Serpent’s “rock”ier side are Fauske’s driving bass lines, Tony Gonzalez’s electric riffs and leads, and the shifty, exactly-what-we-need-when-we-need-it drumming of Viktor Kristensen. Together, these three bring a bluesy, alt-rock flair that had me feeling everything from Violent Femmes (“Hundromshelvete”) and Days of the New (“Tusen Takk”), to The Cramps (“Radiophobia”). To say True Norwegian Blackgrass seems a scatterbrained stew of styles would be an understatement, but I’ll be damned if Twin Serpent doesn’t pull it off.

Twin Serpent write big hooks, stacking True Norwegian Blackgrass with memorable moments. Whimsical percussion, poppy bass lines, and fuzzy guitar work make “Ærlig Talt” an off-kilter, punky fun ditty, while the catchier-than-thou chorus of the hoe-down-ready “Freak Flag” is stickier than hell, and should inspire mass consumption of cheap beer. My favorite song, ballad “Ain’t Home No More,” features a great harmonic duet between Silvola and Fauske, sung over simple banjo and acoustic guitar before feathering in surging electric chords that, in a live setting, could easily trail off into a stellar jam section. “Holy Ghost,” another tavern-tier stand-out, features more of Silvola and Fauske’s vocal harmonizations and sports a chorus that will have you swaying on your bar stool, arm around your drinking buddy, belting it out while sloshing beer from your pint glass.

Twin Serpent’s versatility is their greatest strength. I imagine they’d fit in just as easily gigging at the local brew pub as they would a barn dance or even Chicago’s Riot Fest. Covering so many musical landscapes, an album like True Norwegian Blackgrass could have easily landed as an unfocused mess. But it’s the vocal interplay, harmonies, and trade-offs between Silvola and Fauske—reminiscent of early B-52’s—keeping things intact. As many different places as this record goes, it still manages to sound like Twin Serpent, and with twelve tracks spanning 37 minutes—most songs clocking in between two and three minutes each—it never loiters long enough to get boring or tiresome. Dubbed “the wizard technician,” Vebjørn Svanberg Numme harnesses all of the foursome’s idiosyncrasies and channels them through a production that perfectly captures everything that makes the Twin Serpent sound tick.

True Norwegian Blackgrass is a wonderful change-of-pace album you could totally spin when you don’t know what to listen to. Twin Serpent have added all the right ingredients to create a recipe loaded with eclectic energy and punk rock attitude. From note one, I was hooked and had more fun with True Norwegian Blackgrass than I’d ever guessed. I fully recommend you give it a try too.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

One of my absolute favorite articles of clothing in my closet is a beat-up, slightly holey, faded black Darkthrone t-shirt from 1998, with the band logo on the front, and “True Norwegian Black Metal” printed across the back. I share this, for what I hope are obvious reasons, to explain what initially drew me to Twin Serpent’s sophomore record, True Norwegian Blackgrass. That, and it was floating in an exclusive area of the sump pit reserved for those nuggets Steel specifically says need a review. Four years removed from their Loyal Blood Records 2022 debut, Feels Like Heaven, North Of Hell, which garnered comparisons to Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Tom Waits, this “cute outsider band” from Trondheim has a new label, Svart Records, and on True Norwegian Blackgrass, Twin Serpent teases “12 songs about love, betrayal and black holes with country licks, rock ‘n roll kicks and heaps of punk attitude.” So, coif those multi-colored mohawks, strap on those bullet-belts and arm spikes, and pull those cowboy boots on as we take True Norwegian Blackgrass for a prairie ride.

True Norwegian Blackgrass is a punk-infused, crust-country bluesabilly-thon full of quirky energy. Ditching the corpse paint and blood baths, Twin Serpent’s aesthetic is born from deliberate artistic intent—just scope that cover art touted as “weird, rowdy, and just a little bit black metal.” Face paint? Pfffft! Full body snake paint and no fucks given come standard. Spirited from the start, album opener “Space Heater” glides in on a wave of Dick Dale-esque surf guitar before going full-on Dead Kennedys with oodles of punkish energy and roars from Timo Silvola and Hanna Fauske that would have Fenriz smiling. From there, however, True Norwegian Blackgrass traverses a more eclectic musical terrain without sacrificing its punk moxie. Silvola’s countrified banjo plucks and acoustic strumming bring Bridge City Sinners and The Goddamn Gallows to mind (“Stellar Suicide”), but can folk out too on tracks like “Kipu Kivi,” which also features him chanting in his native Finnish. Back-boning Twin Serpent’s “rock”ier side are Fauske’s driving bass lines, Tony Gonzalez’s electric riffs and leads, and the shifty, exactly-what-we-need-when-we-need-it drumming of Viktor Kristensen. Together, these three bring a bluesy, alt-rock flair that had me feeling everything from Violent Femmes (“Hundromshelvete”) and Days of the New (“Tusen Takk”), to The Cramps (“Radiophobia”). To say True Norwegian Blackgrass seems a scatterbrained stew of styles would be an understatement, but I’ll be damned if Twin Serpent doesn’t pull it off.

Twin Serpent write big hooks, stacking True Norwegian Blackgrass with memorable moments. Whimsical percussion, poppy bass lines, and fuzzy guitar work make “Ærlig Talt” an off-kilter, punky fun ditty, while the catchier-than-thou chorus of the hoe-down-ready “Freak Flag” is stickier than hell, and should inspire mass consumption of cheap beer. My favorite song, ballad “Ain’t Home No More,” features a great harmonic duet between Silvola and Fauske, sung over simple banjo and acoustic guitar before feathering in surging electric chords that, in a live setting, could easily trail off into a stellar jam section. “Holy Ghost,” another tavern-tier stand-out, features more of Silvola and Fauske’s vocal harmonizations and sports a chorus that will have you swaying on your bar stool, arm around your drinking buddy, belting it out while sloshing beer from your pint glass.

Twin Serpent’s versatility is their greatest strength. I imagine they’d fit in just as easily gigging at the local brew pub as they would a barn dance or even Chicago’s Riot Fest. Covering so many musical landscapes, an album like True Norwegian Blackgrass could have easily landed as an unfocused mess. But it’s the vocal interplay, harmonies, and trade-offs between Silvola and Fauske—reminiscent of early B-52’s—keeping things intact. As many different places as this record goes, it still manages to sound like Twin Serpent, and with twelve tracks spanning 37 minutes—most songs clocking in between two and three minutes each—it never loiters long enough to get boring or tiresome. Dubbed “the wizard technician,” Vebjørn Svanberg Numme harnesses all of the foursome’s idiosyncrasies and channels them through a production that perfectly captures everything that makes the Twin Serpent sound tick.

True Norwegian Blackgrass is a wonderful change-of-pace album you could totally spin when you don’t know what to listen to. Twin Serpent have added all the right ingredients to create a recipe loaded with eclectic energy and punk rock attitude. From note one, I was hooked and had more fun with True Norwegian Blackgrass than I’d ever guessed. I fully recommend you give it a try too.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

#LEVYT | Kissa-yhtyeen kolmas albumi on soundeiltaan linjakas mutta laadultaan epätasainen kokonaisuus. #KritiikinPaluu #musataivas #SvartRecords #Kissa ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Kissa pistää kaasun pohjaan ja...

As this new year has gotten off to a right proper, lunacy-fueled start, I scoured the sump pit in search of something to pen my first review of 2026 on. As I poked through the pickens, slim as they were, I spied one of my favorite tags: ‘Steel says review,’ sitting unclaimed. Self-described as ‘free form death-jazz,’ Umeå, Sweden’s Backengrillen play music that is a paean to chaos and destruction. The basic idea is to take a death/doom metal, or noiserock riff and play it until it loses meaning and then break it apart like a ravenous cat would a tiny forest mouse. Okay, I thought, I’ll bite. Formed primarily from the ashes of the now twice-dead Swedish post-hardcore legends Refused, vocalist Dennis Lyxzén, bassist Magnus Flagge, and drummer David Sandström have partnered with composer and saxophonist Mats Gustafsson to release Backengrillen, their eponymous debut album on Svart Records. Backengrillen cull inspiration from The Cramps and Little Richard to Entombed, Misfits, and Can. With such an eclectic cadre of performers to draw muse from, I was thoroughly intrigued to dive into Backengrillen and discover what I had gotten myself into.

Experimentally chaotic yet at times catchy and compelling, Backengrillen reaps seeds first sown on Refused’s initial 1998 swan song, The Shape of Punk to Come. Where TSoPtC only dabbled outside traditional punk and hardcore tropes, though, Backengrillen embeds those fringe elements of ambiance, electronics, and jazzy instrumentation as the spine of its soundscape, with Gustafsson carrying most of the weird load. His role as frenetic flautist, huffing, puffing, and grunting violently over his flute’s embouchure like some deranged Ian Anderson (“Dör för långsamt”), and psychotic saxophonist, skronking, squawking, and swooning (“Backengrillen”), counterbalances Backengrillen’s more alt-punk style, homogenizing the whole into something akin to Morphine on meth.

Backengrillen by Backengrillen

Written during Backengrillen’s first rehearsal, performed live the next day, then recorded the day after that, Backengrillen is a gutsy shot in the dark. As off-the-cuff as it is, there are moments on Backengrillen that came off way more methodical than the nature of their origin would suggest. Launching from a simple, keyed melody, “A Hate Inferior” builds slowly as layers of drums, bass, and smarmy sax eventually coalesce into a scorched-earth sludge bomb that hits around the three-minute mark, and is topped off by Lyxzén’s nuclear scream, whose vocals sound like a mix of Zach de la Rocha and Jello Biafra. From that point on, the track had me rocking a slow and steady stank-faced head bob. Then there’s, at least for me, the humorously titled “Repeater II,” which is the shortest and most traditionally structured of the bunch—clocking in at a brisk six minutes forty-three seconds. A rompy, punk-fueled ditty that sounds like a mix of The Cramps, Dead Kennedys, and Nirvana, with a bit of sax thrown in for good measure, and Lyxzén, at his most Biafra-like, shouting the infectious chorus, ‘Hey, repeat it, repeat it again,’ over and over.

Whipped up quicker than a batch of Mom’s Rice Krispies treats, Backengrillen suffers most from impoverished improvisation. Despite the churlish charm present on the tracks mentioned above, the rest of this five-song, fifty-three-minute monster isn’t nearly as engaging or easy to listen to. “Dör för långsamt,” for example, is just over thirteen minutes of Gustaffson’s squawky, dying-animal sax playing entwined with a bevy of Lyxzén’s screeches, screams, grunts, and queasy, drunken-sounding chorus lines layered over a plodding, tribal bass and drum beat. “Backengrillen” fares no better, eleven minutes of sluggish drum and bass holding up Gustaffson’s breathy, trilly flute and barely tuned saxophone alongside another Lyxzén performance made up of pitchy, swaying chants and lots of grunting screams. And on every play through, by the time “Socialism or Barbarism” rolled around, I was checked out and ready to move on. This made slogging through the tracks’ first three minutes of electronic noise that much harder to digest, let alone the remaining 7.5 minutes.

Had this been recorded as one continuous, fully improvised live set in some Västerbotten County dive-bar, complete with sparse crowd reactions, by four musicians who’d never played one note together, it might have hit different.1 As it stands, my greatest takeaway from this experience was discovering Refused, which I actually had a lot of fun listening to during my prep. And for those wondering, why no puns, here you go. Ultimately, there isn’t enough meat grillen here to get me to come Backen.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: January 23, 2026

As this new year has gotten off to a right proper, lunacy-fueled start, I scoured the sump pit in search of something to pen my first review of 2026 on. As I poked through the pickens, slim as they were, I spied one of my favorite tags: ‘Steel says review,’ sitting unclaimed. Self-described as ‘free form death-jazz,’ Umeå, Sweden’s Backengrillen play music that is a paean to chaos and destruction. The basic idea is to take a death/doom metal, or noiserock riff and play it until it loses meaning and then break it apart like a ravenous cat would a tiny forest mouse. Okay, I thought, I’ll bite. Formed primarily from the ashes of the now twice-dead Swedish post-hardcore legends Refused, vocalist Dennis Lyxzén, bassist Magnus Flagge, and drummer David Sandström have partnered with composer and saxophonist Mats Gustafsson to release Backengrillen, their eponymous debut album on Svart Records. Backengrillen cull inspiration from The Cramps and Little Richard to Entombed, Misfits, and Can. With such an eclectic cadre of performers to draw muse from, I was thoroughly intrigued to dive into Backengrillen and discover what I had gotten myself into.

Experimentally chaotic yet at times catchy and compelling, Backengrillen reaps seeds first sown on Refused’s initial 1998 swan song, The Shape of Punk to Come. Where TSoPtC only dabbled outside traditional punk and hardcore tropes, though, Backengrillen embeds those fringe elements of ambiance, electronics, and jazzy instrumentation as the spine of its soundscape, with Gustafsson carrying most of the weird load. His role as frenetic flautist, huffing, puffing, and grunting violently over his flute’s embouchure like some deranged Ian Anderson (“Dör för långsamt”), and psychotic saxophonist, skronking, squawking, and swooning (“Backengrillen”), counterbalances Backengrillen’s more alt-punk style, homogenizing the whole into something akin to Morphine on meth.

Backengrillen by Backengrillen

Written during Backengrillen’s first rehearsal, performed live the next day, then recorded the day after that, Backengrillen is a gutsy shot in the dark. As off-the-cuff as it is, there are moments on Backengrillen that came off way more methodical than the nature of their origin would suggest. Launching from a simple, keyed melody, “A Hate Inferior” builds slowly as layers of drums, bass, and smarmy sax eventually coalesce into a scorched-earth sludge bomb that hits around the three-minute mark, and is topped off by Lyxzén’s nuclear scream, whose vocals sound like a mix of Zach de la Rocha and Jello Biafra. From that point on, the track had me rocking a slow and steady stank-faced head bob. Then there’s, at least for me, the humorously titled “Repeater II,” which is the shortest and most traditionally structured of the bunch—clocking in at a brisk six minutes forty-three seconds. A rompy, punk-fueled ditty that sounds like a mix of The Cramps, Dead Kennedys, and Nirvana, with a bit of sax thrown in for good measure, and Lyxzén, at his most Biafra-like, shouting the infectious chorus, ‘Hey, repeat it, repeat it again,’ over and over.

Whipped up quicker than a batch of Mom’s Rice Krispies treats, Backengrillen suffers most from impoverished improvisation. Despite the churlish charm present on the tracks mentioned above, the rest of this five-song, fifty-three-minute monster isn’t nearly as engaging or easy to listen to. “Dör för långsamt,” for example, is just over thirteen minutes of Gustaffson’s squawky, dying-animal sax playing entwined with a bevy of Lyxzén’s screeches, screams, grunts, and queasy, drunken-sounding chorus lines layered over a plodding, tribal bass and drum beat. “Backengrillen” fares no better, eleven minutes of sluggish drum and bass holding up Gustaffson’s breathy, trilly flute and barely tuned saxophone alongside another Lyxzén performance made up of pitchy, swaying chants and lots of grunting screams. And on every play through, by the time “Socialism or Barbarism” rolled around, I was checked out and ready to move on. This made slogging through the tracks’ first three minutes of electronic noise that much harder to digest, let alone the remaining 7.5 minutes.

Had this been recorded as one continuous, fully improvised live set in some Västerbotten County dive-bar, complete with sparse crowd reactions, by four musicians who’d never played one note together, it might have hit different.1 As it stands, my greatest takeaway from this experience was discovering Refused, which I actually had a lot of fun listening to during my prep. And for those wondering, why no puns, here you go. Ultimately, there isn’t enough meat grillen here to get me to come Backen.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: January 23, 2026

As this new year has gotten off to a right proper, lunacy-fueled start, I scoured the sump pit in search of something to pen my first review of 2026 on. As I poked through the pickens, slim as they were, I spied one of my favorite tags: ‘Steel says review,’ sitting unclaimed. Self-described as ‘free form death-jazz,’ Umeå, Sweden’s Backengrillen play music that is a paean to chaos and destruction. The basic idea is to take a death/doom metal, or noiserock riff and play it until it loses meaning and then break it apart like a ravenous cat would a tiny forest mouse. Okay, I thought, I’ll bite. Formed primarily from the ashes of the now twice-dead Swedish post-hardcore legends Refused, vocalist Dennis Lyxzén, bassist Magnus Flagge, and drummer David Sandström have partnered with composer and saxophonist Mats Gustafsson to release Backengrillen, their eponymous debut album on Svart Records. Backengrillen cull inspiration from The Cramps and Little Richard to Entombed, Misfits, and Can. With such an eclectic cadre of performers to draw muse from, I was thoroughly intrigued to dive into Backengrillen and discover what I had gotten myself into.

Experimentally chaotic yet at times catchy and compelling, Backengrillen reaps seeds first sown on Refused’s initial 1998 swan song, The Shape of Punk to Come. Where TSoPtC only dabbled outside traditional punk and hardcore tropes, though, Backengrillen embeds those fringe elements of ambiance, electronics, and jazzy instrumentation as the spine of its soundscape, with Gustafsson carrying most of the weird load. His role as frenetic flautist, huffing, puffing, and grunting violently over his flute’s embouchure like some deranged Ian Anderson (“Dör för långsamt”), and psychotic saxophonist, skronking, squawking, and swooning (“Backengrillen”), counterbalances Backengrillen’s more alt-punk style, homogenizing the whole into something akin to Morphine on meth.

Backengrillen by Backengrillen

Written during Backengrillen’s first rehearsal, performed live the next day, then recorded the day after that, Backengrillen is a gutsy shot in the dark. As off-the-cuff as it is, there are moments on Backengrillen that came off way more methodical than the nature of their origin would suggest. Launching from a simple, keyed melody, “A Hate Inferior” builds slowly as layers of drums, bass, and smarmy sax eventually coalesce into a scorched-earth sludge bomb that hits around the three-minute mark, and is topped off by Lyxzén’s nuclear scream, whose vocals sound like a mix of Zach de la Rocha and Jello Biafra. From that point on, the track had me rocking a slow and steady stank-faced head bob. Then there’s, at least for me, the humorously titled “Repeater II,” which is the shortest and most traditionally structured of the bunch—clocking in at a brisk six minutes forty-three seconds. A rompy, punk-fueled ditty that sounds like a mix of The Cramps, Dead Kennedys, and Nirvana, with a bit of sax thrown in for good measure, and Lyxzén, at his most Biafra-like, shouting the infectious chorus, ‘Hey, repeat it, repeat it again,’ over and over.

Whipped up quicker than a batch of Mom’s Rice Krispies treats, Backengrillen suffers most from impoverished improvisation. Despite the churlish charm present on the tracks mentioned above, the rest of this five-song, fifty-three-minute monster isn’t nearly as engaging or easy to listen to. “Dör för långsamt,” for example, is just over thirteen minutes of Gustaffson’s squawky, dying-animal sax playing entwined with a bevy of Lyxzén’s screeches, screams, grunts, and queasy, drunken-sounding chorus lines layered over a plodding, tribal bass and drum beat. “Backengrillen” fares no better, eleven minutes of sluggish drum and bass holding up Gustaffson’s breathy, trilly flute and barely tuned saxophone alongside another Lyxzén performance made up of pitchy, swaying chants and lots of grunting screams. And on every play through, by the time “Socialism or Barbarism” rolled around, I was checked out and ready to move on. This made slogging through the tracks’ first three minutes of electronic noise that much harder to digest, let alone the remaining 7.5 minutes.

Had this been recorded as one continuous, fully improvised live set in some Västerbotten County dive-bar, complete with sparse crowd reactions, by four musicians who’d never played one note together, it might have hit different.1 As it stands, my greatest takeaway from this experience was discovering Refused, which I actually had a lot of fun listening to during my prep. And for those wondering, why no puns, here you go. Ultimately, there isn’t enough meat grillen here to get me to come Backen.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: January 23, 2026

As this new year has gotten off to a right proper, lunacy-fueled start, I scoured the sump pit in search of something to pen my first review of 2026 on. As I poked through the pickens, slim as they were, I spied one of my favorite tags: ‘Steel says review,’ sitting unclaimed. Self-described as ‘free form death-jazz,’ Umeå, Sweden’s Backengrillen play music that is a paean to chaos and destruction. The basic idea is to take a death/doom metal, or noiserock riff and play it until it loses meaning and then break it apart like a ravenous cat would a tiny forest mouse. Okay, I thought, I’ll bite. Formed primarily from the ashes of the now twice-dead Swedish post-hardcore legends Refused, vocalist Dennis Lyxzén, bassist Magnus Flagge, and drummer David Sandström have partnered with composer and saxophonist Mats Gustafsson to release Backengrillen, their eponymous debut album on Svart Records. Backengrillen cull inspiration from The Cramps and Little Richard to Entombed, Misfits, and Can. With such an eclectic cadre of performers to draw muse from, I was thoroughly intrigued to dive into Backengrillen and discover what I had gotten myself into.

Experimentally chaotic yet at times catchy and compelling, Backengrillen reaps seeds first sown on Refused’s initial 1998 swan song, The Shape of Punk to Come. Where TSoPtC only dabbled outside traditional punk and hardcore tropes, though, Backengrillen embeds those fringe elements of ambiance, electronics, and jazzy instrumentation as the spine of its soundscape, with Gustafsson carrying most of the weird load. His role as frenetic flautist, huffing, puffing, and grunting violently over his flute’s embouchure like some deranged Ian Anderson (“Dör för långsamt”), and psychotic saxophonist, skronking, squawking, and swooning (“Backengrillen”), counterbalances Backengrillen’s more alt-punk style, homogenizing the whole into something akin to Morphine on meth.

Backengrillen by Backengrillen

Written during Backengrillen’s first rehearsal, performed live the next day, then recorded the day after that, Backengrillen is a gutsy shot in the dark. As off-the-cuff as it is, there are moments on Backengrillen that came off way more methodical than the nature of their origin would suggest. Launching from a simple, keyed melody, “A Hate Inferior” builds slowly as layers of drums, bass, and smarmy sax eventually coalesce into a scorched-earth sludge bomb that hits around the three-minute mark, and is topped off by Lyxzén’s nuclear scream, whose vocals sound like a mix of Zach de la Rocha and Jello Biafra. From that point on, the track had me rocking a slow and steady stank-faced head bob. Then there’s, at least for me, the humorously titled “Repeater II,” which is the shortest and most traditionally structured of the bunch—clocking in at a brisk six minutes forty-three seconds. A rompy, punk-fueled ditty that sounds like a mix of The Cramps, Dead Kennedys, and Nirvana, with a bit of sax thrown in for good measure, and Lyxzén, at his most Biafra-like, shouting the infectious chorus, ‘Hey, repeat it, repeat it again,’ over and over.

Whipped up quicker than a batch of Mom’s Rice Krispies treats, Backengrillen suffers most from impoverished improvisation. Despite the churlish charm present on the tracks mentioned above, the rest of this five-song, fifty-three-minute monster isn’t nearly as engaging or easy to listen to. “Dör för långsamt,” for example, is just over thirteen minutes of Gustaffson’s squawky, dying-animal sax playing entwined with a bevy of Lyxzén’s screeches, screams, grunts, and queasy, drunken-sounding chorus lines layered over a plodding, tribal bass and drum beat. “Backengrillen” fares no better, eleven minutes of sluggish drum and bass holding up Gustaffson’s breathy, trilly flute and barely tuned saxophone alongside another Lyxzén performance made up of pitchy, swaying chants and lots of grunting screams. And on every play through, by the time “Socialism or Barbarism” rolled around, I was checked out and ready to move on. This made slogging through the tracks’ first three minutes of electronic noise that much harder to digest, let alone the remaining 7.5 minutes.

Had this been recorded as one continuous, fully improvised live set in some Västerbotten County dive-bar, complete with sparse crowd reactions, by four musicians who’d never played one note together, it might have hit different.1 As it stands, my greatest takeaway from this experience was discovering Refused, which I actually had a lot of fun listening to during my prep. And for those wondering, why no puns, here you go. Ultimately, there isn’t enough meat grillen here to get me to come Backen.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: January 23, 2026

#LEVYT | Turkulaisen garagerock-kolmikon pitkä tauko ei ole tehnyt Sweatmasterin musiikista nostalgista pakkopullaa. More! sykkii ja jyrää komeasti. #KritiikinPaluu #SvartRecords ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Sweatmasterin hikilinko pyörii...

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

#LEVYT | Tamperelaisen Joni Ekmanin seitsemäs levy tiivistää rock-kaihoa toimivan ytimekkäästi. #KritiikinPaluu #SvartRecords ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Joni Ekman svengaa raukean rai...

#LEVYT | Koronakurimuksista kohonnut, raskaskätisesti melurokkia ja esiheviä esittävä Kuolemankello on julkaissut ensimmäisen albuminsa. #KritiikinPaluu #musataivas #SvartRecords ⭐️⭐️½

Rupista riffittelyä ja romului...

#LEVYT | Hypnoottisen intensiivinen folkrockyhtye soittaa etnopoeettisen runokokoelman ihmiskunnan ryytimaassa. #KritiikinPaluu #Musataivas #SvartRecords ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Pekko Käppi & K:H:H:L luo nahk...

Mystery finnish techno producer album, ”Witness Of The End” by Köfta, from 2019. Damn this thing is slappin’ !!1

#Techno #Kasino #SvartRecords #Vinyl #WhoDunnit

Mystery finnish techno producer album, ”Witness Of The End” by Köfta, from 2019. Damn this thing is slappin’ !!1

#Techno #Kasino #SvartRecords #Vinyl #WhoDunnit

Mystery finnish techno producer album, ”Witness Of The End” by Köfta, from 2019. Damn this thing is slappin’ !!1

#Techno #Kasino #SvartRecords #Vinyl #WhoDunnit

Vinylsonntag: @theflamingsideburns - Silver Flames 🇫🇮

#vinylsonntag #semmehorcht #finlandrocks #flamingsideburns #kickoutthejams #33rpm #clearvinyl #svartrecords #silverflame #spinningvinyl #vinylsunday #nowspinning
#vinyllove #nowspinningonvinyl

https://www.europesays.com/uk/106551/ Entheomorphosis – Pyhä Kuilu Review #2025 #3.0 #Alitila #AvantGardeMetal #Bongripper #DarkBuddhaRising #DoomMetal #DroneMetal #Earth #Enphin #Entertainment #Entheomorphosis #FinnishMetal #Gangrened #Ludalloy #May25 #Mr.PeterHayden #music #pH #PrimitiveMan #PyhäKuilu #Review #Reviews #Sumac #SunnO))) #SvartRecords #UK #UnitedKingdom #Vallihauta

Entheomorphosis – Pyhä Kuilu Review

By Dear Hollow

If I’ve learned anything from Dark Buddha Rising, it’s that drone metal goes hand-in-hand with spiritual awakening. The blinding light of transcendence and the shadows of the occult are parts of the same jagged landscape of existence, and the abyss rules beneath, embodying both creation and destruction. Gentle and ruthless in equal measure, drone metal’s tides of mountainous riffs and thunderous tones offer the secrets of the universe and the nonexistence that perpetually threatens every fiber. Dark Buddha Rising exemplified this in its Buddhism-influenced aesthetic tied to hypnotic and ritualist drone, pulsing percussion, and a flurry of vocal attacks to conjure and invoke a dark trance. With their ongoing hiatus, Entheomorphosis takes up the mantle.

Appropriately, Entheomorphosis is the spiritual successor of Dark Buddha Rising, taking its namesake after its 2009 album of the same name, its primary architect being former guitarist/vocalist Vesa Ajomo. A quartet, other members include Mr. Peter Hayden/PH/Enphin alum Lauri Kivelä (also of Alitila) on bass and JP Koivisto (also of Vallihauta) on guitar, as well as Lassi Männikkö of Gangrened and Ludalloy behind the kit. While Dark Buddha Rising offered a surprisingly nimble and balanced approach to drone in energetic percussion and obscure vocal approaches, Entheomorphosis embraces the sprawl and a more predictable vocal dimension, alongside a much more erratic percussion presence. Debut Pyhä Kuilu (“holy abyss” in Finnish) embraces the spiritual awakening of shedding old skin with shuddering tone abuse and glacial crawls in its favor, even if it pales in comparison to its mother act.

Entheomorphosis does a great job of compacting drone metal’s most trademark features in a tidy thirty-five-minute runtime, thanks to concise songwriting. It features four tracks, with the bookends comprising the main movements (“Alkiema,” “Iätön”). These are the transcended Arhats in a drone metal fan’s nirvana: droning riffs, tortured vocals, and breathless patience. Conjuring the Sabbath-worshipping likes more of Earth than Sunn O))) in its slightly orange and hazy tone (perhaps Bongripper), it drawls on while Ajomo’s vocals take the stage in tortured shouts and Männikkö’s slightly off-kilter rhythms add a dimension of intrigue to the proceeds. Contrary to Dark Buddha Rising’s winning formula of drums carrying the drone, Entheomorphosis finds the drums carrying on a manic ritualistic energy almost despite the droning riffs, reminding me of early Sumac’s work. This clash is a bit jarring but intriguing, as longer passages avoid stagnation thanks to these odd collisions. The moods invoked are vast, settling upon anticipation’s startling brightness (“Alkiema”) and dread’s heavy weight (“Iätön”).

Getting away from the traditional drone template, the meat of Pyhä Kuilu offers respite in unexpected ways for Entheomorphosis. From the minimalist creeping of blackened shrieks atop chaotic drumming, thunderous bass, and synthesizer (“Sikinä”) to a crystalline and pulsing synth foray (“Huntu”), the centerpieces recall a more liturgical and shamanistic Primitive Man in its unforgiving noise and injection of chaos among the more regal movements of straightforward drone. They nonetheless beg the question as to why two comparatively brief respites are tied together as such when they are just different enough to be confusing and just similar enough to sound the same. The vocals are likewise a bit of a conundrum with Entheomorphosis, especially in comparison to its parent project. Dark Buddha Rising benefited from the choir of insanity of its three voices, but Ajomo’s nasally shouts seem to clash with the surrounding bleak obscurity, working most effectively with the blackened shrieks in “Sikinä.” The vocals are not the main focus, but they do distract at best, derail at worst, when they appear.

Entheomorphosis soars in being a worthy spiritual successor to Dark Buddha Rising, even if its pedigree cannot hold up. It’s a dark drone sound that you’ve come to know and love, but simultaneously more accessible and more experimental. Pyhä Kuilu feels more liturgical and less hypnotic, and its chemistry between drums and riff is endlessly intriguing. It may not achieve transcendence of its actors’ other projects, but for fans of drone, Entheomorphosis is a tour de force of holiness and devastation. While a nice bit of escapism, I’m banking on a more complete spiritual awakening next time.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: entheomorphosis.bandcamp.com | entheomorphosis.com
Releases Worldwide: May 23rd, 2025

#2025 #30 #Alitila #AvantGardeMetal #Bongripper #DarkBuddhaRising #DoomMetal #DroneMetal #Earth #Enphin #Entheomorphosis #FinnishMetal #Gangrened #Ludalloy #May25 #MrPeterHayden #PH #PrimitiveMan #PyhäKuilu #Review #Reviews #Sumac #SunnO_ #SvartRecords #Vallihauta

Entheomorphosis – Pyhä Kuilu Review

By Dear Hollow

If I’ve learned anything from Dark Buddha Rising, it’s that drone metal goes hand-in-hand with spiritual awakening. The blinding light of transcendence and the shadows of the occult are parts of the same jagged landscape of existence, and the abyss rules beneath, embodying both creation and destruction. Gentle and ruthless in equal measure, drone metal’s tides of mountainous riffs and thunderous tones offer the secrets of the universe and the nonexistence that perpetually threatens every fiber. Dark Buddha Rising exemplified this in its Buddhism-influenced aesthetic tied to hypnotic and ritualist drone, pulsing percussion, and a flurry of vocal attacks to conjure and invoke a dark trance. With their ongoing hiatus, Entheomorphosis takes up the mantle.

Appropriately, Entheomorphosis is the spiritual successor of Dark Buddha Rising, taking its namesake after its 2009 album of the same name, its primary architect being former guitarist/vocalist Vesa Ajomo. A quartet, other members include Mr. Peter Hayden/PH/Enphin alum Lauri Kivelä (also of Alitila) on bass and JP Koivisto (also of Vallihauta) on guitar, as well as Lassi Männikkö of Gangrened and Ludalloy behind the kit. While Dark Buddha Rising offered a surprisingly nimble and balanced approach to drone in energetic percussion and obscure vocal approaches, Entheomorphosis embraces the sprawl and a more predictable vocal dimension, alongside a much more erratic percussion presence. Debut Pyhä Kuilu (“holy abyss” in Finnish) embraces the spiritual awakening of shedding old skin with shuddering tone abuse and glacial crawls in its favor, even if it pales in comparison to its mother act.

Entheomorphosis does a great job of compacting drone metal’s most trademark features in a tidy thirty-five-minute runtime, thanks to concise songwriting. It features four tracks, with the bookends comprising the main movements (“Alkiema,” “Iätön”). These are the transcended Arhats in a drone metal fan’s nirvana: droning riffs, tortured vocals, and breathless patience. Conjuring the Sabbath-worshipping likes more of Earth than Sunn O))) in its slightly orange and hazy tone (perhaps Bongripper), it drawls on while Ajomo’s vocals take the stage in tortured shouts and Männikkö’s slightly off-kilter rhythms add a dimension of intrigue to the proceeds. Contrary to Dark Buddha Rising’s winning formula of drums carrying the drone, Entheomorphosis finds the drums carrying on a manic ritualistic energy almost despite the droning riffs, reminding me of early Sumac’s work. This clash is a bit jarring but intriguing, as longer passages avoid stagnation thanks to these odd collisions. The moods invoked are vast, settling upon anticipation’s startling brightness (“Alkiema”) and dread’s heavy weight (“Iätön”).

Getting away from the traditional drone template, the meat of Pyhä Kuilu offers respite in unexpected ways for Entheomorphosis. From the minimalist creeping of blackened shrieks atop chaotic drumming, thunderous bass, and synthesizer (“Sikinä”) to a crystalline and pulsing synth foray (“Huntu”), the centerpieces recall a more liturgical and shamanistic Primitive Man in its unforgiving noise and injection of chaos among the more regal movements of straightforward drone. They nonetheless beg the question as to why two comparatively brief respites are tied together as such when they are just different enough to be confusing and just similar enough to sound the same. The vocals are likewise a bit of a conundrum with Entheomorphosis, especially in comparison to its parent project. Dark Buddha Rising benefited from the choir of insanity of its three voices, but Ajomo’s nasally shouts seem to clash with the surrounding bleak obscurity, working most effectively with the blackened shrieks in “Sikinä.” The vocals are not the main focus, but they do distract at best, derail at worst, when they appear.

Entheomorphosis soars in being a worthy spiritual successor to Dark Buddha Rising, even if its pedigree cannot hold up. It’s a dark drone sound that you’ve come to know and love, but simultaneously more accessible and more experimental. Pyhä Kuilu feels more liturgical and less hypnotic, and its chemistry between drums and riff is endlessly intriguing. It may not achieve transcendence of its actors’ other projects, but for fans of drone, Entheomorphosis is a tour de force of holiness and devastation. While a nice bit of escapism, I’m banking on a more complete spiritual awakening next time.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: entheomorphosis.bandcamp.com | entheomorphosis.com
Releases Worldwide: May 23rd, 2025

#2025 #30 #Alitila #AvantGardeMetal #Bongripper #DarkBuddhaRising #DoomMetal #DroneMetal #Earth #Enphin #Entheomorphosis #FinnishMetal #Gangrened #Ludalloy #May25 #MrPeterHayden #PH #PrimitiveMan #PyhäKuilu #Review #Reviews #Sumac #SunnO_ #SvartRecords #Vallihauta

Entheomorphosis – Pyhä Kuilu Review

By Dear Hollow

If I’ve learned anything from Dark Buddha Rising, it’s that drone metal goes hand-in-hand with spiritual awakening. The blinding light of transcendence and the shadows of the occult are parts of the same jagged landscape of existence, and the abyss rules beneath, embodying both creation and destruction. Gentle and ruthless in equal measure, drone metal’s tides of mountainous riffs and thunderous tones offer the secrets of the universe and the nonexistence that perpetually threatens every fiber. Dark Buddha Rising exemplified this in its Buddhism-influenced aesthetic tied to hypnotic and ritualist drone, pulsing percussion, and a flurry of vocal attacks to conjure and invoke a dark trance. With their ongoing hiatus, Entheomorphosis takes up the mantle.

Appropriately, Entheomorphosis is the spiritual successor of Dark Buddha Rising, taking its namesake after its 2009 album of the same name, its primary architect being former guitarist/vocalist Vesa Ajomo. A quartet, other members include Mr. Peter Hayden/PH/Enphin alum Lauri Kivelä (also of Alitila) on bass and JP Koivisto (also of Vallihauta) on guitar, as well as Lassi Männikkö of Gangrened and Ludalloy behind the kit. While Dark Buddha Rising offered a surprisingly nimble and balanced approach to drone in energetic percussion and obscure vocal approaches, Entheomorphosis embraces the sprawl and a more predictable vocal dimension, alongside a much more erratic percussion presence. Debut Pyhä Kuilu (“holy abyss” in Finnish) embraces the spiritual awakening of shedding old skin with shuddering tone abuse and glacial crawls in its favor, even if it pales in comparison to its mother act.

Entheomorphosis does a great job of compacting drone metal’s most trademark features in a tidy thirty-five-minute runtime, thanks to concise songwriting. It features four tracks, with the bookends comprising the main movements (“Alkiema,” “Iätön”). These are the transcended Arhats in a drone metal fan’s nirvana: droning riffs, tortured vocals, and breathless patience. Conjuring the Sabbath-worshipping likes more of Earth than Sunn O))) in its slightly orange and hazy tone (perhaps Bongripper), it drawls on while Ajomo’s vocals take the stage in tortured shouts and Männikkö’s slightly off-kilter rhythms add a dimension of intrigue to the proceeds. Contrary to Dark Buddha Rising’s winning formula of drums carrying the drone, Entheomorphosis finds the drums carrying on a manic ritualistic energy almost despite the droning riffs, reminding me of early Sumac’s work. This clash is a bit jarring but intriguing, as longer passages avoid stagnation thanks to these odd collisions. The moods invoked are vast, settling upon anticipation’s startling brightness (“Alkiema”) and dread’s heavy weight (“Iätön”).

Getting away from the traditional drone template, the meat of Pyhä Kuilu offers respite in unexpected ways for Entheomorphosis. From the minimalist creeping of blackened shrieks atop chaotic drumming, thunderous bass, and synthesizer (“Sikinä”) to a crystalline and pulsing synth foray (“Huntu”), the centerpieces recall a more liturgical and shamanistic Primitive Man in its unforgiving noise and injection of chaos among the more regal movements of straightforward drone. They nonetheless beg the question as to why two comparatively brief respites are tied together as such when they are just different enough to be confusing and just similar enough to sound the same. The vocals are likewise a bit of a conundrum with Entheomorphosis, especially in comparison to its parent project. Dark Buddha Rising benefited from the choir of insanity of its three voices, but Ajomo’s nasally shouts seem to clash with the surrounding bleak obscurity, working most effectively with the blackened shrieks in “Sikinä.” The vocals are not the main focus, but they do distract at best, derail at worst, when they appear.

Entheomorphosis soars in being a worthy spiritual successor to Dark Buddha Rising, even if its pedigree cannot hold up. It’s a dark drone sound that you’ve come to know and love, but simultaneously more accessible and more experimental. Pyhä Kuilu feels more liturgical and less hypnotic, and its chemistry between drums and riff is endlessly intriguing. It may not achieve transcendence of its actors’ other projects, but for fans of drone, Entheomorphosis is a tour de force of holiness and devastation. While a nice bit of escapism, I’m banking on a more complete spiritual awakening next time.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: entheomorphosis.bandcamp.com | entheomorphosis.com
Releases Worldwide: May 23rd, 2025

#2025 #30 #Alitila #AvantGardeMetal #Bongripper #DarkBuddhaRising #DoomMetal #DroneMetal #Earth #Enphin #Entheomorphosis #FinnishMetal #Gangrened #Ludalloy #May25 #MrPeterHayden #PH #PrimitiveMan #PyhäKuilu #Review #Reviews #Sumac #SunnO_ #SvartRecords #Vallihauta

#LEVYT | Joni Ekman koirineen on neljättä kertaa täyspitkän kimpussa ja vinyylin mainostarra lupaa 100 prosenttia energiaa ja älykkyysosamääräksi puhdasta nollaa. #KritiikinPaluu #musataivas #SvartRecords ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Neljäs paalujuntta toden sanoo...

Havukruunu – Tavastland Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

For a band that’s only been releasing full-lengths for ten years, Havukruunu has been hella prolific, not only with releases in general but with great releases. Also, each album seems to be better than the next. The coolest part about their sound is that they’ve proved more can be milked from bands like Bathory and Immortal.1 Be it the melodic interludes, big Viking choirs, or endless riff changes, Havukruunu continues to bring inspiration with each new record. Which, as hinted at, is difficult to do with a style that has been around since the ’80s and ’90s. And it’s no different for this year’s Tavastland. It’s a fifty-plus-minute journey of Viking and metal culture that’ll have you banging your head, swimming in oceans of melodic beauty, and barking out anthems of an ancient time never forgotten.

The most unique aspect of Tavastland is that the band’s original vocalist and bassist has returned. But, by the time the debut record, Havulinnaan, landed in 2015, Humö only played a minor role in the band. Years later, he’s back to offer up his bass to the crushing riffs of Havukruunu’s sound. Never a band to dismiss the bassist when writing and mixing releases, Humö displays perhaps the strongest bass performance of Havukruunu’s career. Rumbling like a fucking madman, songs like “De miseriis fennorum” are made even more impactful by his bass performance. That is quite the feat with a band that’s always had stellar dual guitar performances and drum work that’s every bit as meaningful to the band’s success as the other instruments. So, crank up them cans and prepare to be blugdeoned to death by Tavastland.

As with most of the band’s output, Tavastland contains a specific theme in the lyrics and the track layout. Case in point, the opener and closer begin with spoken introductions before the chaos ensues. These two tracks are also the longest and, without a doubt, the album’s epics. The opening track, “Kuolematon laulunhenki,” invokes more Immortal than the rest of the album as an icy, black metal lick kicks into high gear before the inevitable riff changes begin. When it comes, it comes with a dual fretboard display that erupts into a heavy fucking riff supported with a vicious vocal performance. Immediately, you understand the bass influence as Humö tears the fucking roof down. When the Viking choirs arrive, the Bathoryisms creep in and get stronger with each iteration. “De miseriis fennorum” similarly closes the album but with stronger Bathory influences and some old-school metal elements. When it settles in, the punchy vocals emphasize the riffs as voice and instruments work together. One of the coolest transitions comes when the bass abandons the guitars in favor of blastbeating along with the drums. Fucking goosebump inducing. As the song builds, we are treated with old-school Mercyful Fate dueling guitar work and a soothing Viking outro that would make Quorthon smile from ear to ear.

Between these bookmarks, you’ll find even more to love about Tavastland. Be it black metal assaults, impressive solos, melodic passages, Viking choirs, or even thrash, Havukruunu is here to take you for a fucking ride. “Havukruunu ja talvenvarjo” fires out the gates with a bass-heavy, blistering-fast black metal charge that transitions into another surprising twist. This time, it comes with a slick build-up that includes alternating acoustic and distorted guitars that somehow work. As the relentless bass pushes on, another twist arrives in the form of layered growls that hit harder than ever. The title track is another fantastic song with a lot of heart—lyrically and instrumentally. Using the same layered vocal style as the previous track, it tramps along before the envelope cracks open to reveal gorgeous strings and Viking choirs, cementing this beauty into your brain. “Unissakävijä” is another unique piece for its odd combination of thrashy riffs, melodic wonderness, and massive Viking choirs that set up the track before the blitzkrieg hits—though it’s a bit on the long side.

Not only does Tavastland continue to show a band that never disappoints—and continues to get better—but it’s one of their best-produced records. While 2020’s Uinuos syömein sota still gets a lot of spins in the Grier household, the compressed master is my biggest complaint. Now that Havukruunu is with Svart Records, maybe that will change. Because Tavastland is quite dynamic, allowing all the elements I’ve mentioned to rise to the top and slip to the background as needed. In an album completely submersed in killer tracks, some, like “Yönsynty,” aren’t as strong as others. Though it’s still a strong song, it can’t stand up with the rest of the incredible tracks on the album. That said, Tavastland is an AotY contender (again), and fans of the group will love it.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: havukruunu.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/havukruunu
Releases Worldwide: February 28th, 2025

#2025 #40 #Bathory #BlackMetal #Feb25 #FinnishMetal #Havukruunu #Immortal #MercyfulFate #PaganMetal #Review #Reviews #SvartRecords #Tavastland #VikingMetal

Havukruunu – Tavastland Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

For a band that’s only been releasing full-lengths for ten years, Havukruunu has been hella prolific, not only with releases in general but with great releases. Also, each album seems to be better than the next. The coolest part about their sound is that they’ve proved more can be milked from bands like Bathory and Immortal.1 Be it the melodic interludes, big Viking choirs, or endless riff changes, Havukruunu continues to bring inspiration with each new record. Which, as hinted at, is difficult to do with a style that has been around since the ’80s and ’90s. And it’s no different for this year’s Tavastland. It’s a fifty-plus-minute journey of Viking and metal culture that’ll have you banging your head, swimming in oceans of melodic beauty, and barking out anthems of an ancient time never forgotten.

The most unique aspect of Tavastland is that the band’s original vocalist and bassist has returned. But, by the time the debut record, Havulinnaan, landed in 2015, Humö only played a minor role in the band. Years later, he’s back to offer up his bass to the crushing riffs of Havukruunu’s sound. Never a band to dismiss the bassist when writing and mixing releases, Humö displays perhaps the strongest bass performance of Havukruunu’s career. Rumbling like a fucking madman, songs like “De miseriis fennorum” are made even more impactful by his bass performance. That is quite the feat with a band that’s always had stellar dual guitar performances and drum work that’s every bit as meaningful to the band’s success as the other instruments. So, crank up them cans and prepare to be blugdeoned to death by Tavastland.

As with most of the band’s output, Tavastland contains a specific theme in the lyrics and the track layout. Case in point, the opener and closer begin with spoken introductions before the chaos ensues. These two tracks are also the longest and, without a doubt, the album’s epics. The opening track, “Kuolematon laulunhenki,” invokes more Immortal than the rest of the album as an icy, black metal lick kicks into high gear before the inevitable riff changes begin. When it comes, it comes with a dual fretboard display that erupts into a heavy fucking riff supported with a vicious vocal performance. Immediately, you understand the bass influence as Humö tears the fucking roof down. When the Viking choirs arrive, the Bathoryisms creep in and get stronger with each iteration. “De miseriis fennorum” similarly closes the album but with stronger Bathory influences and some old-school metal elements. When it settles in, the punchy vocals emphasize the riffs as voice and instruments work together. One of the coolest transitions comes when the bass abandons the guitars in favor of blastbeating along with the drums. Fucking goosebump inducing. As the song builds, we are treated with old-school Mercyful Fate dueling guitar work and a soothing Viking outro that would make Quorthon smile from ear to ear.

Between these bookmarks, you’ll find even more to love about Tavastland. Be it black metal assaults, impressive solos, melodic passages, Viking choirs, or even thrash, Havukruunu is here to take you for a fucking ride. “Havukruunu ja talvenvarjo” fires out the gates with a bass-heavy, blistering-fast black metal charge that transitions into another surprising twist. This time, it comes with a slick build-up that includes alternating acoustic and distorted guitars that somehow work. As the relentless bass pushes on, another twist arrives in the form of layered growls that hit harder than ever. The title track is another fantastic song with a lot of heart—lyrically and instrumentally. Using the same layered vocal style as the previous track, it tramps along before the envelope cracks open to reveal gorgeous strings and Viking choirs, cementing this beauty into your brain. “Unissakävijä” is another unique piece for its odd combination of thrashy riffs, melodic wonderness, and massive Viking choirs that set up the track before the blitzkrieg hits—though it’s a bit on the long side.

Not only does Tavastland continue to show a band that never disappoints—and continues to get better—but it’s one of their best-produced records. While 2020’s Uinuos syömein sota still gets a lot of spins in the Grier household, the compressed master is my biggest complaint. Now that Havukruunu is with Svart Records, maybe that will change. Because Tavastland is quite dynamic, allowing all the elements I’ve mentioned to rise to the top and slip to the background as needed. In an album completely submersed in killer tracks, some, like “Yönsynty,” aren’t as strong as others. Though it’s still a strong song, it can’t stand up with the rest of the incredible tracks on the album. That said, Tavastland is an AotY contender (again), and fans of the group will love it.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: havukruunu.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/havukruunu
Releases Worldwide: February 28th, 2025

#2025 #40 #Bathory #BlackMetal #Feb25 #FinnishMetal #Havukruunu #Immortal #MercyfulFate #PaganMetal #Review #Reviews #SvartRecords #Tavastland #VikingMetal

Havukruunu – Tavastland Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

For a band that’s only been releasing full-lengths for ten years, Havukruunu has been hella prolific, not only with releases in general but with great releases. Also, each album seems to be better than the next. The coolest part about their sound is that they’ve proved more can be milked from bands like Bathory and Immortal.1 Be it the melodic interludes, big Viking choirs, or endless riff changes, Havukruunu continues to bring inspiration with each new record. Which, as hinted at, is difficult to do with a style that has been around since the ’80s and ’90s. And it’s no different for this year’s Tavastland. It’s a fifty-plus-minute journey of Viking and metal culture that’ll have you banging your head, swimming in oceans of melodic beauty, and barking out anthems of an ancient time never forgotten.

The most unique aspect of Tavastland is that the band’s original vocalist and bassist has returned. But, by the time the debut record, Havulinnaan, landed in 2015, Humö only played a minor role in the band. Years later, he’s back to offer up his bass to the crushing riffs of Havukruunu’s sound. Never a band to dismiss the bassist when writing and mixing releases, Humö displays perhaps the strongest bass performance of Havukruunu’s career. Rumbling like a fucking madman, songs like “De miseriis fennorum” are made even more impactful by his bass performance. That is quite the feat with a band that’s always had stellar dual guitar performances and drum work that’s every bit as meaningful to the band’s success as the other instruments. So, crank up them cans and prepare to be blugdeoned to death by Tavastland.

As with most of the band’s output, Tavastland contains a specific theme in the lyrics and the track layout. Case in point, the opener and closer begin with spoken introductions before the chaos ensues. These two tracks are also the longest and, without a doubt, the album’s epics. The opening track, “Kuolematon laulunhenki,” invokes more Immortal than the rest of the album as an icy, black metal lick kicks into high gear before the inevitable riff changes begin. When it comes, it comes with a dual fretboard display that erupts into a heavy fucking riff supported with a vicious vocal performance. Immediately, you understand the bass influence as Humö tears the fucking roof down. When the Viking choirs arrive, the Bathoryisms creep in and get stronger with each iteration. “De miseriis fennorum” similarly closes the album but with stronger Bathory influences and some old-school metal elements. When it settles in, the punchy vocals emphasize the riffs as voice and instruments work together. One of the coolest transitions comes when the bass abandons the guitars in favor of blastbeating along with the drums. Fucking goosebump inducing. As the song builds, we are treated with old-school Mercyful Fate dueling guitar work and a soothing Viking outro that would make Quorthon smile from ear to ear.

Between these bookmarks, you’ll find even more to love about Tavastland. Be it black metal assaults, impressive solos, melodic passages, Viking choirs, or even thrash, Havukruunu is here to take you for a fucking ride. “Havukruunu ja talvenvarjo” fires out the gates with a bass-heavy, blistering-fast black metal charge that transitions into another surprising twist. This time, it comes with a slick build-up that includes alternating acoustic and distorted guitars that somehow work. As the relentless bass pushes on, another twist arrives in the form of layered growls that hit harder than ever. The title track is another fantastic song with a lot of heart—lyrically and instrumentally. Using the same layered vocal style as the previous track, it tramps along before the envelope cracks open to reveal gorgeous strings and Viking choirs, cementing this beauty into your brain. “Unissakävijä” is another unique piece for its odd combination of thrashy riffs, melodic wonderness, and massive Viking choirs that set up the track before the blitzkrieg hits—though it’s a bit on the long side.

Not only does Tavastland continue to show a band that never disappoints—and continues to get better—but it’s one of their best-produced records. While 2020’s Uinuos syömein sota still gets a lot of spins in the Grier household, the compressed master is my biggest complaint. Now that Havukruunu is with Svart Records, maybe that will change. Because Tavastland is quite dynamic, allowing all the elements I’ve mentioned to rise to the top and slip to the background as needed. In an album completely submersed in killer tracks, some, like “Yönsynty,” aren’t as strong as others. Though it’s still a strong song, it can’t stand up with the rest of the incredible tracks on the album. That said, Tavastland is an AotY contender (again), and fans of the group will love it.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: havukruunu.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/havukruunu
Releases Worldwide: February 28th, 2025

#2025 #40 #Bathory #BlackMetal #Feb25 #FinnishMetal #Havukruunu #Immortal #MercyfulFate #PaganMetal #Review #Reviews #SvartRecords #Tavastland #VikingMetal

Ei vattu!

Svart Recordsilla on kotisivulla kevätale.

Tili menee tyhjäks tämmösissä!

#Svart #SvartRecords #musiikki #levy #levyt #musadontti

Ei vattu!

Svart Recordsilla on kotisivulla kevätale.

Tili menee tyhjäks tämmösissä!

#Svart #SvartRecords #musiikki #levy #levyt #musadontti

Ei vattu!

Svart Recordsilla on kotisivulla kevätale.

Tili menee tyhjäks tämmösissä!

#Svart #SvartRecords #musiikki #levy #levyt #musadontti

Ei vattu!

Svart Recordsilla on kotisivulla kevätale.

Tili menee tyhjäks tämmösissä!

#Svart #SvartRecords #musiikki #levy #levyt #musadontti

*🅰️d Unboxing "Weaponize Tomorrow" by MISSILES 🎶

⚡️ This Malmö post-punk band brings years of experience and raw energy to their debut album! 💿

🔥 Have you checked it out yet?
ℹ️ https://www.svartrecords.com/en/artist/missiles/12105
.
.
.
#sethpicturesmusic #sethabrikoos #metalgirl #altgirl #punkgirl #svartrecords #oktoberpromotion #metalhead #metalmerch #bandmerch #punkband

🤘✌️

*🅰️d Unboxing "Weaponize Tomorrow" by MISSILES 🎶

⚡️ This Malmö post-punk band brings years of experience and raw energy to their debut album! 💿

🔥 Have you checked it out yet?
ℹ️ https://www.svartrecords.com/en/artist/missiles/12105
.
.
.
#sethpicturesmusic #sethabrikoos #metalgirl #altgirl #punkgirl #svartrecords #oktoberpromotion #metalhead #metalmerch #bandmerch #punkband

🤘✌️

*🅰️d Unboxing "Weaponize Tomorrow" by MISSILES 🎶

⚡️ This Malmö post-punk band brings years of experience and raw energy to their debut album! 💿

🔥 Have you checked it out yet?
ℹ️ https://www.svartrecords.com/en/artist/missiles/12105
.
.
.
#sethpicturesmusic #sethabrikoos #metalgirl #altgirl #punkgirl #svartrecords #oktoberpromotion #metalhead #metalmerch #bandmerch #punkband

🤘✌️

Haunted Plasma – I Review

By Thus Spoke

There was something about Haunted Plasma’s debut, I, that just drew me in. Partly that art, which literally draws one’s eye inward towards its centre, a square of bright, unnatural light, the exit from a tunnel of clouds of similarly strange hue. Partly also its constituents—a trio of members from Oranssi Pazuzu, K-X-P, and Aavikko, plus guest vocalists—and blurb, promising music that would play upon the genres of krautrock, techno, and more, for a psychedelic and novel twist on electronica. This is not metal. But in its unusual, genre-defying progressiveness, it could be said to embody the spirit of the genre’s avant-garde offshoots, refusing to remain precisely one thing. It doesn’t really matter what you call it; what matters is how it feels to listen to. And I provides one with a lot to say in that regard.

Across five movements, I shapeshifts through a series of interpretations, within and between cuts. Moody electro-rock (“Reverse Engineer,”), gaze-y ambience (“Echoes”), synthwave techno (“Machines Like Us”), almost-noise, krautrock (“Haunted Plasma”). Not post-metal or post-rock, but post-everything, with an ethereal unreality to every passage, a dreamlike quality that’s discomfiting and pleasantly vibey in equal measure. It turns out that the album’s artwork is not the only vaguely mesmerising thing about it, as no matter how upbeat, groovy, or sinister it becomes, it remains hypnotically easy to listen to, and difficult to ignore despite its pretensions to fade into a soundscape of your new normal, at the extremes of its structurelessness. If there is a true common thread, its this sense of being inside I; as though one has stepped through the bizarre orange portal and is free-falling, carelessly, through whatever exists on the other side.

Through gracefully subtle evolution, Haunted Plasma pull in the listener irrecoverably. Each song builds layers of noise, synth, vocals, guitars. Ringing, distorted refrains blur the lines between physical and synthetic instrumentation, just as the echo of a once prominent voice, or note makes indistinct the true leader of the piece, and heightens tension to a anticipatory hum. Opener “Reverse Engineer” entices with a gradually manifesting canvas of enigmatic droning, ringing, mournful notes, and the ever-more assertive voice of Mat McNerney (Hexvessel, Grave Pleasures), rising to the oddly affecting “tell us what we want//give us what want” and falling back on the repeated threat of “technology of power.” This layered slow-burn is in an incredible way to set the stage for what follows, immersing its audience in its obscure, moody world of vibrating suspense, bleeding with eerie groove. This expectation is met in full. “Machines Like Us” smashes any idea of continued slow, stalking smokiness in favour of a spiralling voyage of glittering synths, flickering like light from every direction. “Echoes” is almost painfully pure, ethereally shoegazey beside its more violent, effortlessly efficient partner “Spectral Embrace,” but the two nonetheless belong to the same realm. The latter reflects, in the most “metal” vocal performance of barbed, dissonantly-pitching vocals, paired with an uncomfortably irresistible drum pattern, that bubble up in “Machines Like Us” and “Haunted Plasma”, just as “Echoes” echoes the endlessly shrouded pulse of the opener, and which emanates from every second of every song.

It is because I is just that compelling that it becomes difficult to find meaningful criticism—so easy is it to fall into its weird, pacifying embrace. Closer, “Haunted Plasma,” at just under thirteen minutes, is a behemoth that like its brothers builds until it’s an undulating series of circling noise, strange female vocals (Ringer Manner of The Hearing), and clipped, buzzing guitar lines, each a part of the tapestry, so slick it happens as much behind your back as in front of your ears and eyes. And I can’t decide whether it’s genius or not, to end what is not a very long album with a fully instrumental track that is so long, and yet, so confidently executed and just as immersive as anything that came before. Part of me wants to think I just don’t “get it,” while just as big a part feels just a little nonplussed. Disappointed that the finale fully gave in to the freeform non-conformity, and almost fizzles away in its eventual whistling synths, rather than going out with a bang. But maybe this was the only way I could end.

Whatever my feelings, or as the promo blurb puts it, “[w]hether you want to give in […] or not,” Haunted Plasma have created something that I couldn’t ignore even if I wanted to. Drawing me back incessantly, I had better be what it implies, the first of many expressions from the avant-garde trio. Because they’re haunting me now; and I kind of love it.

Rating: Great
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Released Worldwide: May 31st, 2024

#2024 #40 #ElectroRock #HauntedPlasma #I #Krautrock #May24 #NotMetal #PsychedelicMetal #Review #Reviews #SvartRecords

Haunted Plasma – I Review

By Thus Spoke

There was something about Haunted Plasma’s debut, I, that just drew me in. Partly that art, which literally draws one’s eye inward towards its centre, a square of bright, unnatural light, the exit from a tunnel of clouds of similarly strange hue. Partly also its constituents—a trio of members from Oranssi Pazuzu, K-X-P, and Aavikko, plus guest vocalists—and blurb, promising music that would play upon the genres of krautrock, techno, and more, for a psychedelic and novel twist on electronica. This is not metal. But in its unusual, genre-defying progressiveness, it could be said to embody the spirit of the genre’s avant-garde offshoots, refusing to remain precisely one thing. It doesn’t really matter what you call it; what matters is how it feels to listen to. And I provides one with a lot to say in that regard.

Across five movements, I shapeshifts through a series of interpretations, within and between cuts. Moody electro-rock (“Reverse Engineer,”), gaze-y ambience (“Echoes”), synthwave techno (“Machines Like Us”), almost-noise, krautrock (“Haunted Plasma”). Not post-metal or post-rock, but post-everything, with an ethereal unreality to every passage, a dreamlike quality that’s discomfiting and pleasantly vibey in equal measure. It turns out that the album’s artwork is not the only vaguely mesmerising thing about it, as no matter how upbeat, groovy, or sinister it becomes, it remains hypnotically easy to listen to, and difficult to ignore despite its pretensions to fade into a soundscape of your new normal, at the extremes of its structurelessness. If there is a true common thread, its this sense of being inside I; as though one has stepped through the bizarre orange portal and is free-falling, carelessly, through whatever exists on the other side.

Through gracefully subtle evolution, Haunted Plasma pull in the listener irrecoverably. Each song builds layers of noise, synth, vocals, guitars. Ringing, distorted refrains blur the lines between physical and synthetic instrumentation, just as the echo of a once prominent voice, or note makes indistinct the true leader of the piece, and heightens tension to a anticipatory hum. Opener “Reverse Engineer” entices with a gradually manifesting canvas of enigmatic droning, ringing, mournful notes, and the ever-more assertive voice of Mat McNerney (Hexvessel, Grave Pleasures), rising to the oddly affecting “tell us what we want//give us what want” and falling back on the repeated threat of “technology of power.” This layered slow-burn is in an incredible way to set the stage for what follows, immersing its audience in its obscure, moody world of vibrating suspense, bleeding with eerie groove. This expectation is met in full. “Machines Like Us” smashes any idea of continued slow, stalking smokiness in favour of a spiralling voyage of glittering synths, flickering like light from every direction. “Echoes” is almost painfully pure, ethereally shoegazey beside its more violent, effortlessly efficient partner “Spectral Embrace,” but the two nonetheless belong to the same realm. The latter reflects, in the most “metal” vocal performance of barbed, dissonantly-pitching vocals, paired with an uncomfortably irresistible drum pattern, that bubble up in “Machines Like Us” and “Haunted Plasma”, just as “Echoes” echoes the endlessly shrouded pulse of the opener, and which emanates from every second of every song.

It is because I is just that compelling that it becomes difficult to find meaningful criticism—so easy is it to fall into its weird, pacifying embrace. Closer, “Haunted Plasma,” at just under thirteen minutes, is a behemoth that like its brothers builds until it’s an undulating series of circling noise, strange female vocals (Ringer Manner of The Hearing), and clipped, buzzing guitar lines, each a part of the tapestry, so slick it happens as much behind your back as in front of your ears and eyes. And I can’t decide whether it’s genius or not, to end what is not a very long album with a fully instrumental track that is so long, and yet, so confidently executed and just as immersive as anything that came before. Part of me wants to think I just don’t “get it,” while just as big a part feels just a little nonplussed. Disappointed that the finale fully gave in to the freeform non-conformity, and almost fizzles away in its eventual whistling synths, rather than going out with a bang. But maybe this was the only way I could end.

Whatever my feelings, or as the promo blurb puts it, “[w]hether you want to give in […] or not,” Haunted Plasma have created something that I couldn’t ignore even if I wanted to. Drawing me back incessantly, I had better be what it implies, the first of many expressions from the avant-garde trio. Because they’re haunting me now; and I kind of love it.

Rating: Great
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Released Worldwide: May 31st, 2024

#2024 #40 #ElectroRock #HauntedPlasma #I #Krautrock #May24 #NotMetal #PsychedelicMetal #Review #Reviews #SvartRecords

Kati Rán – Sála Review

By Twelve

Neofolk is a special style of art. It encompasses the achingly simple to portray stunning complexity. Everything is done with earnest emotion, and often the onus is on the artist not to simply entertain, but to transport the listener, through time, through places, and through very states of being. When I first learned of Kati Rán and her debut full-length release Sála, I was heartened by a single line in its promo copy: “Recorded in a barn in Húsafell, Iceland”—and I didn’t read further. Authenticity is at the heart of every excellent neofolk album, and “recorded in a barn in Iceland” is arguably as authentic as it gets. How does Sála deliver on this promising foundation?

Sála is an expansive album, both in size and scope, which allows Kati Rán plenty of opportunity to showcase her exceptional abilities as a musician and songwriter. Dense layers of traditional instrumentation (I’m aware of a cello, nyckelharpa, and kravik lyre, but there is surely more than that) make way for soaring vocals and choruses, while rhythmic percussion propels the listener forward into its oceanic tales based in Norse mythology. Certainly, this is the case for the album opener and title track, a seven-minute foray that’s almost cinematic in its vision, thanks in no small part to exceptional choral singing, a feature that will be a recurring theme throughout the album. Sála also sees several guest appearances, including members from Gaahls Wyrd, Heilung, Gealdýr, and Völuspá. The result is an album that is incredibly ambitious, but again, with a very promising foundation.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the best moments of Sála are the most emotional ones, and it’s here that Kati Rán’s vocal performance shines. In particular, “Himinglæva” is a stunningly beautiful showcase of her talent, both when singing in English and Icelandic. It treads the fine line between “too slow” and “too emotional” expertly, and acts as an album highlight. On the slightly speedier side of things, “Kólga | 16” uses phenomenal acoustic touches to augment another cinematic performance that takes the listener straight into the stories that inspired it. At its fastest pace, “Segið Mér” chants, pounds, and orchestrates its way into some of the most memorable moments of Sála, at times reminding of Eluveitie’s Evocation albums. Across the album, Kati Rán demonstrates more and more sides to her sound, keeping the listener guessing and alert right through to the last song.

I’ve talked a lot about how Sála is brilliant and expansive in its scope, but its size is another story. With thirteen tracks, there is already a lot to digest here, but the fact that the album clocks in at eighty minutes makes it a lot to take in, and unfortunately prone to wandering. In particular, “Blodbylgje” slams the brakes on Sála’s exceptional start—sixteen minutes long and slow, the song itself is lovely, but awkwardly placed in terms of the album’s flow. The ten-minute-long “Unnr | Mindbeach” is less of a culprit, but does have some meandering moments as a result of its similarly comparatively slow pace. There is a truly exceptional album inside Sála, but as it is presented, it’s hard not to think that there was an opportunity for a leaner, more focused journey here.

I cannot stress enough, however, that there are no bad songs or moments on Sála—or, indeed, that this is one of the strongest debuts I can remember hearing in a while. Kati Rán absolutely delivers in creating a moving, powerful, and memorable album that stands among those of her most talented contemporaries. It is clear that this is the result of a long effort of care and devotion, and I can only hope that the journey does not end here. I need more of this music in my life.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: kati-ran.com | ranarvegr.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/ran.musician
Releases Worldwide: May 24th, 2024

#2024 #35 #DutchMetal #Eluveitie #GaahlsWYRD #Gealdýr #Heilung #IcelandicMetal #KatiRán #May24 #Neofolk #NotMetal #Review #Reviews #Sála #SvartRecords #Völuspá

Kati Rán – Sála Review

By Twelve

Neofolk is a special style of art. It encompasses the achingly simple to portray stunning complexity. Everything is done with earnest emotion, and often the onus is on the artist not to simply entertain, but to transport the listener, through time, through places, and through very states of being. When I first learned of Kati Rán and her debut full-length release Sála, I was heartened by a single line in its promo copy: “Recorded in a barn in Húsafell, Iceland”—and I didn’t read further. Authenticity is at the heart of every excellent neofolk album, and “recorded in a barn in Iceland” is arguably as authentic as it gets. How does Sála deliver on this promising foundation?

Sála is an expansive album, both in size and scope, which allows Kati Rán plenty of opportunity to showcase her exceptional abilities as a musician and songwriter. Dense layers of traditional instrumentation (I’m aware of a cello, nyckelharpa, and kravik lyre, but there is surely more than that) make way for soaring vocals and choruses, while rhythmic percussion propels the listener forward into its oceanic tales based in Norse mythology. Certainly, this is the case for the album opener and title track, a seven-minute foray that’s almost cinematic in its vision, thanks in no small part to exceptional choral singing, a feature that will be a recurring theme throughout the album. Sála also sees several guest appearances, including members from Gaahls Wyrd, Heilung, Gealdýr, and Völuspá. The result is an album that is incredibly ambitious, but again, with a very promising foundation.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the best moments of Sála are the most emotional ones, and it’s here that Kati Rán’s vocal performance shines. In particular, “Himinglæva” is a stunningly beautiful showcase of her talent, both when singing in English and Icelandic. It treads the fine line between “too slow” and “too emotional” expertly, and acts as an album highlight. On the slightly speedier side of things, “Kólga | 16” uses phenomenal acoustic touches to augment another cinematic performance that takes the listener straight into the stories that inspired it. At its fastest pace, “Segið Mér” chants, pounds, and orchestrates its way into some of the most memorable moments of Sála, at times reminding of Eluveitie’s Evocation albums. Across the album, Kati Rán demonstrates more and more sides to her sound, keeping the listener guessing and alert right through to the last song.

I’ve talked a lot about how Sála is brilliant and expansive in its scope, but its size is another story. With thirteen tracks, there is already a lot to digest here, but the fact that the album clocks in at eighty minutes makes it a lot to take in, and unfortunately prone to wandering. In particular, “Blodbylgje” slams the brakes on Sála’s exceptional start—sixteen minutes long and slow, the song itself is lovely, but awkwardly placed in terms of the album’s flow. The ten-minute-long “Unnr | Mindbeach” is less of a culprit, but does have some meandering moments as a result of its similarly comparatively slow pace. There is a truly exceptional album inside Sála, but as it is presented, it’s hard not to think that there was an opportunity for a leaner, more focused journey here.

I cannot stress enough, however, that there are no bad songs or moments on Sála—or, indeed, that this is one of the strongest debuts I can remember hearing in a while. Kati Rán absolutely delivers in creating a moving, powerful, and memorable album that stands among those of her most talented contemporaries. It is clear that this is the result of a long effort of care and devotion, and I can only hope that the journey does not end here. I need more of this music in my life.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: kati-ran.com | ranarvegr.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/ran.musician
Releases Worldwide: May 24th, 2024

#2024 #35 #DutchMetal #Eluveitie #GaahlsWYRD #Gealdýr #Heilung #IcelandicMetal #KatiRán #May24 #Neofolk #NotMetal #Review #Reviews #Sála #SvartRecords #Völuspá

Goden – Vale of the Fallen Review

By Dear Hollow

New York City’s Goden embodies the spiritual successor of Winter, a quietly influential death/doom outfit who amassed a devoted cult following 1990’s acclaimed full-length Into Darkness and follow-up 1993 EP Eternal Frost.1 Original guitarist Stephen Flam and guest keyboardist Tony Pinnissi created the new chapter of Goden, 2020 debut Beyond Darkness (an homage to its parent act) ambushing fans and newcomers alike with mountainous riffs, frosty synths, and vicious vocals – virtually only held back by the act’s obsession with a billion synth interludes. With follow-up Vale of the Fallen, it becomes all the more crucial for Flam and company to continue its trajectory of success.

More than Beyond Darkness, Vale of the Fallen is shrouded in mystery. Goden’s pieces are all there, but instead of the cosmic theme of its predecessor, 2024 finds the now-quartet collapsing to a dead earth, embracing bleakness in a devastated expanse. Flam’s riffs are unmistakable, Pinnissi’s synths chill the bones, Val Kallas’ sinister and dynamic vocals weave stories and lament barren landscapes, and new drummer Jason Krantz adds a pulsing tension through doom plods and vicious double bass, while guest violinist Margaret Murphy’s haunting strings echo like a scream gone unheard. The ingredients sound much like Beyond Darkness, but Vale finds Goden focusing on stark minimalism rather than riffs. A trimmer and more crawling affair, it does not outdo Beyond Darkness or the act’s history in Winter in the slightest, but instead maps out a curious path of its own.

That’s not to say Winter’s penchant for filth and doom is neglected. While the pioneer’s efforts felt like grimy death with a side of doom, Goden’s interpretation has always felt more doom-forward. In this way, Vale of the Fallen embraces the low and slow more heartily – focusing on sprawling filth rather than beating you over the head with it. “In the Vale of the Fallen,” “Urania,” and “Zero” are grimy contributions, minimalist riffs echoing across with its blend of fuzz and crunch, with subtle guitar flourishes and violin adding a sinister dimension, while the bass-centric “Black Vortex” and “Majestic Symphony” add weight to the silence. Kallas remains one of the most versatile and invaluable members of Goden, her range of torturous bellows, devastating shrieks, and ominous spoken word guiding with charisma and viciousness, shining like a collapsing star in the minimalist “Black Vortex” or the spoken word of “Manifestation IX,” adding ominous cleans to “Majestic Symphony” – a worthy and dreary conclusion of a further devastation to follow.

One of the biggest issues in Vale of the Fallen is that its unique starkness can be its own undoing. Flam’s riffs are decidedly weaker and less saturated than in previous Goden or Winter incarnations, and Kallas’ vocals are suddenly a necessity, as the minimalist riffs of “Death Magus,” for example, get painfully repetitive by its conclusion due to the lack of vocals and over repetition. Even the best tracks “Zero” and “Urania” can feel too repetitive or boring in its one-riff-per-song construction that curiously lacks death/doom’s signature devastation. While the interlude issue is better in Vale of the Fallen, there are still four ambient interludes; while “Rings of Saturn” and “Manifestation IX” add an iciness and menace, opener “The Divine” feels awkward, as staccato piano and sprawling synths collide in a sloppy manner. Like Beyond Darkness, Goden’s pacing is awkward. “Majestic Symphony” is an aptly subtle and ominous closer to a subtle and ominous album, but having two interludes “Manifestation IX” and “The Requiem” separating it from the album climax “Zero” pumps the brakes on the momentum considerably.

All that to say, Vale of the Fallen doesn’t feel done by the same Goden as Beyond Darkness. It’s far more crawling than bombastic, more minimalist than pummeling. Flam’s guitar tone is far more straightforward with less synth flourishes (reminiscent of Winter’s Into Darkness), and Kallas’ vocals are more front-and-center. However, while pacing was a glaring issue with its predecessor, Vale manages to overcome this issue slightly more fluidly, due to the emphasis on storytelling and atmosphere. However, it’s difficult to accurately rate due to the vast differences, as the meteoric riffs are less a priority than the barren landscapes they left. Goden’s weaknesses are exposed in the overreliance on Kallas and its stark lack of signature mountainous riffs, which is a painful reality for Vale of the Fallen. Traverse this wilderness with trepidation.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 17th, 2024

#25 #2024 #AmericanMetal #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DoomMetal #Goden #May24 #Review #Reviews #SvartRecords #ValeOfTheFallen #Winter

Goden – Vale of the Fallen Review

By Dear Hollow

New York City’s Goden embodies the spiritual successor of Winter, a quietly influential death/doom outfit who amassed a devoted cult following 1990’s acclaimed full-length Into Darkness and follow-up 1993 EP Eternal Frost.1 Original guitarist Stephen Flam and guest keyboardist Tony Pinnissi created the new chapter of Goden, 2020 debut Beyond Darkness (an homage to its parent act) ambushing fans and newcomers alike with mountainous riffs, frosty synths, and vicious vocals – virtually only held back by the act’s obsession with a billion synth interludes. With follow-up Vale of the Fallen, it becomes all the more crucial for Flam and company to continue its trajectory of success.

More than Beyond Darkness, Vale of the Fallen is shrouded in mystery. Goden’s pieces are all there, but instead of the cosmic theme of its predecessor, 2024 finds the now-quartet collapsing to a dead earth, embracing bleakness in a devastated expanse. Flam’s riffs are unmistakable, Pinnissi’s synths chill the bones, Val Kallas’ sinister and dynamic vocals weave stories and lament barren landscapes, and new drummer Jason Krantz adds a pulsing tension through doom plods and vicious double bass, while guest violinist Margaret Murphy’s haunting strings echo like a scream gone unheard. The ingredients sound much like Beyond Darkness, but Vale finds Goden focusing on stark minimalism rather than riffs. A trimmer and more crawling affair, it does not outdo Beyond Darkness or the act’s history in Winter in the slightest, but instead maps out a curious path of its own.

That’s not to say Winter’s penchant for filth and doom is neglected. While the pioneer’s efforts felt like grimy death with a side of doom, Goden’s interpretation has always felt more doom-forward. In this way, Vale of the Fallen embraces the low and slow more heartily – focusing on sprawling filth rather than beating you over the head with it. “In the Vale of the Fallen,” “Urania,” and “Zero” are grimy contributions, minimalist riffs echoing across with its blend of fuzz and crunch, with subtle guitar flourishes and violin adding a sinister dimension, while the bass-centric “Black Vortex” and “Majestic Symphony” add weight to the silence. Kallas remains one of the most versatile and invaluable members of Goden, her range of torturous bellows, devastating shrieks, and ominous spoken word guiding with charisma and viciousness, shining like a collapsing star in the minimalist “Black Vortex” or the spoken word of “Manifestation IX,” adding ominous cleans to “Majestic Symphony” – a worthy and dreary conclusion of a further devastation to follow.

One of the biggest issues in Vale of the Fallen is that its unique starkness can be its own undoing. Flam’s riffs are decidedly weaker and less saturated than in previous Goden or Winter incarnations, and Kallas’ vocals are suddenly a necessity, as the minimalist riffs of “Death Magus,” for example, get painfully repetitive by its conclusion due to the lack of vocals and over repetition. Even the best tracks “Zero” and “Urania” can feel too repetitive or boring in its one-riff-per-song construction that curiously lacks death/doom’s signature devastation. While the interlude issue is better in Vale of the Fallen, there are still four ambient interludes; while “Rings of Saturn” and “Manifestation IX” add an iciness and menace, opener “The Divine” feels awkward, as staccato piano and sprawling synths collide in a sloppy manner. Like Beyond Darkness, Goden’s pacing is awkward. “Majestic Symphony” is an aptly subtle and ominous closer to a subtle and ominous album, but having two interludes “Manifestation IX” and “The Requiem” separating it from the album climax “Zero” pumps the brakes on the momentum considerably.

All that to say, Vale of the Fallen doesn’t feel done by the same Goden as Beyond Darkness. It’s far more crawling than bombastic, more minimalist than pummeling. Flam’s guitar tone is far more straightforward with less synth flourishes (reminiscent of Winter’s Into Darkness), and Kallas’ vocals are more front-and-center. However, while pacing was a glaring issue with its predecessor, Vale manages to overcome this issue slightly more fluidly, due to the emphasis on storytelling and atmosphere. However, it’s difficult to accurately rate due to the vast differences, as the meteoric riffs are less a priority than the barren landscapes they left. Goden’s weaknesses are exposed in the overreliance on Kallas and its stark lack of signature mountainous riffs, which is a painful reality for Vale of the Fallen. Traverse this wilderness with trepidation.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 17th, 2024

#25 #2024 #AmericanMetal #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DoomMetal #Goden #May24 #Review #Reviews #SvartRecords #ValeOfTheFallen #Winter

🥰 Isafjørd
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#sethabrikoos #sethpicturesmusic #isafjørd #oktoberpromo #postrockmusic #metalgirl #altgirl #asiangirl #svartrecords #metalcd #blackmetal #blackmetalmusic #postrock #postrockband #altmusic #oktoberpromotion

CD gifted by: OktoberPromotion
Label: svartrecords

🤘✌️

🥰 Isafjørd
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#sethabrikoos #sethpicturesmusic #isafjørd #oktoberpromo #postrockmusic #metalgirl #altgirl #asiangirl #svartrecords #metalcd #blackmetal #blackmetalmusic #postrock #postrockband #altmusic #oktoberpromotion

CD gifted by: OktoberPromotion
Label: svartrecords

🤘✌️

🥰 Isafjørd
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#sethabrikoos #sethpicturesmusic #isafjørd #oktoberpromo #postrockmusic #metalgirl #altgirl #asiangirl #svartrecords #metalcd #blackmetal #blackmetalmusic #postrock #postrockband #altmusic #oktoberpromotion

CD gifted by: OktoberPromotion
Label: svartrecords

🤘✌️

Today's CD: @shaam.larein 💿
I got recommended this nocturnal post-punk/ doom rock a lot after photographing Frayle last year.

If you like pojects like Frayle, Chelsea Wolfe, you definitely should listen to #ShaamLarein!

🔗 www.svartrecords.com/eng/artist/Shaam-Larein/10759
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#sethpicturesmusic
#sethabrikoos
#svartrecords #altoutfit
#oktoberpromo #centurymediarecords #oktoberpromotion #altgirls #metalcoregirl #dutchmetal
#metalgirl

Shaam Lareim CD gifted by: Oktober Promotion (Coll*b)

🤘✌️

Today's CD: @shaam.larein 💿
I got recommended this nocturnal post-punk/ doom rock a lot after photographing Frayle last year.

If you like pojects like Frayle, Chelsea Wolfe, you definitely should listen to #ShaamLarein!

🔗 www.svartrecords.com/eng/artist/Shaam-Larein/10759
.
#sethpicturesmusic
#sethabrikoos
#svartrecords #altoutfit
#oktoberpromo #centurymediarecords #oktoberpromotion #altgirls #metalcoregirl #dutchmetal
#metalgirl

Shaam Lareim CD gifted by: Oktober Promotion (Coll*b)

🤘✌️

Today's CD: @shaam.larein 💿
I got recommended this nocturnal post-punk/ doom rock a lot after photographing Frayle last year.

If you like pojects like Frayle, Chelsea Wolfe, you definitely should listen to #ShaamLarein!

🔗 www.svartrecords.com/eng/artist/Shaam-Larein/10759
.
#sethpicturesmusic
#sethabrikoos
#svartrecords #altoutfit
#oktoberpromo #centurymediarecords #oktoberpromotion #altgirls #metalcoregirl #dutchmetal
#metalgirl

Shaam Lareim CD gifted by: Oktober Promotion (Coll*b)

🤘✌️

Let's try to edit an unboxing video in CapCut 📦
Filmed & edited in 10 minutes. Better pics soon 👀

👉 Don't forget to check out Shaam Larein
& Isafjørd
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.
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#sethabrikoos #sethpicturesmusic #isafjørd #shaamlarein #metalgirl #altgirl #asiangirl #metalcd #blackmetal #blackmetalmusic #postrock #postrockband #altmusic

CD's gifted by: #OktoberPromotion
Label: #svartrecords

🤘✌️

Let's try to edit an unboxing video in CapCut 📦
Filmed & edited in 10 minutes. Better pics soon 👀

👉 Don't forget to check out Shaam Larein
& Isafjørd
.
.
.
.
.
.
#sethabrikoos #sethpicturesmusic #isafjørd #shaamlarein #metalgirl #altgirl #asiangirl #metalcd #blackmetal #blackmetalmusic #postrock #postrockband #altmusic

CD's gifted by: #OktoberPromotion
Label: #svartrecords

🤘✌️

Let's try to edit an unboxing video in CapCut 📦
Filmed & edited in 10 minutes. Better pics soon 👀

👉 Don't forget to check out Shaam Larein
& Isafjørd
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#sethabrikoos #sethpicturesmusic #isafjørd #shaamlarein #metalgirl #altgirl #asiangirl #metalcd #blackmetal #blackmetalmusic #postrock #postrockband #altmusic

CD's gifted by: #OktoberPromotion
Label: #svartrecords

🤘✌️

#Messa #Close #cd #SvartRecords
Avontuurlijke Doom uit Italië met hier en daar een fijne Jazz tic
https://messaproject.bandcamp.com/album/close