#thecirclemusic — Public Fediverse posts

The Magus is the eponymous band of The Magus himself. At times known also as ‘Morbid,’ ‘Magus Wampyr Daoloth,’ or even ‘George,’ the entity known as ‘The Magus’ is somewhat of a fixture in the history of Greek black metal. He contributed mightily to the scene by performing on the first two Rotting Christ full-lengths, founding both Necromantia and Thou Art Lord, and owning and producing at Storm Studio in Athens, the recording location for many of Hellenic black/death metal’s seminal records. In 2021, it was announced that Necromantia had “now descended into the Abyss” following the death of its co-founder, Baron Blood. Shortly after releasing that band’s swan song, The Magus announced the birth of The Magus as a vessel to express his Luciferian worldview. Performing vocals, bass, and keyboards, the titular tyrant conscripted Necromantia drummer Maelstrom and Soulskinner guitarist El to carry out this vision, releasing…*checks notes*…Βυσσοδομώντας, the band’s ambitiously varied and theatrical debut, on Halloween of 2023. And now, The Magus has returned with follow-up Daemonosophia, promising to conjure “a more aggressive and dynamic sound.”

That promise seems to have been delivered, as Daemonosophia arrives with nary a 9-minute track to be found. The two advance singles land as relatively straightforward black metal tunes but still manage to maintain The Magus’ penchant for horrific theatricality. I was tempted to embed first proper track “Psuedoprophetae,” an absolutely blistering assault that appears on the heels of a version of the Lord’s Prayer that’s a bit different than the one I was taught in Sunday school, but I’ve opted for “Magia Obscura” instead. The latter demonstrates more of the diversity found across Daemonosophia, its snarl augmented by a clean intro and majestic heavy metal guitar leads.

Daemonosophia by THE MAGUS

But don’t let those two tracks trick you into thinking that Daemonosophia is just another melodic black metal album. The variety on offer within these compositions and their 47 minutes is astounding. The title track made me realize what Iced Earth in their prime might have sounded like if they were a black metal band, “Amelia” is a hauntingly beautiful tribute to the dramatic devilry of King Diamond, and “The Era of Lucifer Rising” sees The Magus reworking a tremolo-laden black metal church-burner from Thou Art Lord’s 1994 debut record into a melodic monstrosity of esoteric might. But perhaps the greatest surprise is album closer, “La Llorona Negra,” an outstanding cover of a classic Latin American folk song. Organ, harpsichord, and piano introduce the song and its first, female, vocalist, and for a moment, it doesn’t sound all that different than the version you heard on the Coco soundtrack. That is, until your hear La Llorona herself screaming in anguish behind the beautiful singing, and before the song evolves into a metal juggernaut with The Magus on the mic near the halfway point.

There is very little for me to complain about on Daemonosophia. Its runtime feels vastly shorter than it is, and its compositional flow has made it nearly impossible not repeat over and over again. The Magus demonstrates an incredible gift for songwriting, Maelstrom’s drumming is a tympanic tempest that lives up to his name, and while El might play for Soulskinner, he should probably be called ‘Facemelter,’ as his guitar playing has made it look like I touched the Ark of the Covenant. My one critique would be that the production feels a bit heavy on the low-end tones, and this was initially a barrier to me feeling Daemonosophia’s full impact. The album is saturated with hidden touches that demand to be heard, and I had to minorly tweak my EQ settings to fully excavate them. At the end of the day, this is a small price to pay for an album that has delivered me multiple Song o’ the Year contenders in “The Era of Lucifer Rising,” “Amelia,” and “La Llorona Negra.”

In interviews, I’ve seen The Magus boldly claim to make “extraordinary music for extraordinary people.” I’d say he’s half right. I’m just an ordinary dude, but Daemonosophia’s extraordinary music has spoken to me nonetheless. The last year or so has been a bit rough for me physically, and I’m having to face the fact that I can no longer live life the way my pre-40s self could. So when “The Era of Lucifer Rising” closes with (what I believe to be) ‘Above hatred and madness/Beyond weakness and pain/I raise the veil and break the chains/My reign has just begun’, followed by a pair of powerful screams, I can’t help but feel empowered to handle whatever challenges this new era brings me.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: The Circle Music
Websites: necromantiathemagus.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/themagus666 | www.themagus666.com
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

Autumn Tears – Crown of the Clairvoyant Review

By Twelve

One of the interesting things about writing for a heavy metal blog is the quantity—and quality—of non-metal recommendations that show up. I’ve already gone out of my way to review many a (dark/neo) folk album that’s wandered through; the conscious decision to send these our way suggests there is something here for the metal fan. But an almost fully neo-classical album is, I think, a new one,1 and its mere presence was enough to intrigue me. Autumn Tears is an international act headed by lyricist, pianist, and composer Ted Tringo that has historically ventured through gothix, classical, and darkwave waters. Since 1996, the project has ventured through many forms, but Crown of the Clairvoyant promises something new for the Tringo’s tenth full-length: an ambitious, fully neoclassical journey featuring no fewer than forty-three musicians. Metal or no metal, how do you pass that up?

I mean, if you’re a heavy metal fan who likes heavy metal, I suppose you might pass it up—though Crown of the Clairvoyant shares a grandiose and somewhat mournful theme with gothic and symphonic metal, Autumn Tears are far from a heavy group. The aforementioned forty-three musicians include a fairly light strings section, a well-stacked horns group, some woodwinds, and a few standard miscellaneous instruments—harp, oud, and piano, for example—but nearly half of the listed musicians in Crown of the Clairvoyant’s extensive credits are singers, most of them part of the Autumn Tears choir. Indeed, choral vocals are dominant throughout Crown of the Clairvoyant, a nice counterbalance to the lead singing, which is typically female soprano. This all gives Crown of the Clairvoyant a strongly organic feel; its instrumentation feels like a deliberate step away from darkwave—though the influence is still felt—and towards something altogether fresher, cleaner, and lighter.

Unlike metal-inspired orchestral projects like Blind Guardian’s Twilight Orchestra, Autumn Tears do not reach for mighty crescendos; instead, they write songs that are more like movements, guiding the listener through moments that come about organically. “The Knell of my Birth-Hymn” opens with a flurry of cello before rising and swelling to joyful heights, choirs and singers layering atop each other, swept along by a beautiful string performance. There is no particular structure for the verses, nor chorus, nor interlude; the song simply goes where it needs to, and this is a recurring idea throughout Crown of the Clairvoyant. Not that there’s no repetition or structure; most songs work within a particular theme. “Martyrdom – Catharsis (Where Gods Go to Die)” is a grandiose song dominated by the increasingly powerful verses between its refrain (not to mention a powerful organ performance). Similarly, “The Light That Shapes Us” allows the horns and woodwinds to act in tandem with the choirs to create a “chorus,” even as the lead vocals follow new and interesting paths.2 Over a mere thirty-eight minutes, Autumn Tears cover a lot of ground by allowing each song to walk its own general path.

If there’s a drawback to Crown of the Clairvoyant, it’s the other side of that coin: Crown of the Clairvoyant covers a lot of ground across a lot of songs that are written very organically. This means that some tracks are prone to wandering, and some feel like they just pass by, with no idea strong enough to make an impression. “Ancestral Premonition” is one such song, with many, many extended passages and vocal arrangements that linger too long on the same idea. Francesca Nicoli’s (Ataraxia) dramatic guest vocals3 add much to the song thematically, but her immediate, intense approach feels mismatched to the quiet wandering instrumentation. “Lunar Coronation” is the longest song at six minutes, but it feels like it never quite decides on a clear theme or idea. While the entirety of Crown of the Clairvoyant is intricate, clever, and, at minimum, pretty, its memorability feels a bit hit-or-miss as a result.

The first time I listened to Crown of the Clairvoyant, I was on an airplane over the Atlantic Ocean, half-awake and seated between two infants who evidently liked flying even less than me.4 This is not the right way to experience it. You can immerse yourself in Autumn Tears, even if you do prefer your music heavier. Some moments are stronger than others—but the whole is beautiful, and I would recommend trying Crown of the Clairvoyant and seeing how it feels. I’m not in love, but I am absolutely impressed.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: The Circle Music
Websites: autumntears.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/TheTrueAutumnTears
Releases Worldwide: September 22nd, 2025

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