#svartrecords — 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

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

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

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

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

Vinylsonntag: @theflamingsideburns - Silver Flames 🇫🇮

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#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

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

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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

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🥰 Isafjørd
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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

🤘✌️