#things-you-might-have-missed — Public Fediverse posts

I spent so long this summer submerged in Panopticon’s discography, once I came back up, I was overwhelmed by the amount of things I’d missed or needed to get a headstart on. Consequently, I didn’t spend a huge amount of time with Songs of Hiraeth when it first dropped; I listened, loved it, made a note to TYMHM it, and moved on. It was only as Autumn started to turn into Winter and the seasonal chill reminded me of not just my end-of-year writing obligations, but the snowy wildernesses of Northern America (and Northern Europe, where much of Songs of Hiraeth was conceived). I’m not necessarily suggesting that the shorter days and the colder temperatures made the music sound better—I spent a significant chunk of my ranking-preparation listening in the south of France, and it sounded excellent as always then. But in some way, mine, the environment’s, and the album’s auras aligned, and everything was set for Songs of Hiraeth to reach full power.

Comprised of songs composed between 2009 and 2011,1 the album is a window into a hidden alternate microcosm within Panopticon’s discography. But it’s one that lays bare seeds of growth that were carried on into the actual, later sound and spirit. Slow, dreamy, gazelike soundscapes (“The Road to Bergen,” “The White Mountain View,”), and syrupy, forlorn guitars shrouded in atmosphere (“A Letter,” “The Eulogy”), express the later music’s gentler, more often reflective aspect that plays as significant a role as the raw black metal.2 You can also see the gradual maturity in experimentation, with transitions between that folk-tinged softness and wintry fury more natural than on the debut, and Collapse, albeit still less ethereally perfect than they would become (“From Bergen to Jotunheimen,” “The White Mountain View”).

Songs Of Hiraeth by Panopticon

Possibly the most brilliant thing about Songs of Hiraeth, however, is that it gets better as it goes on.3 This is not to say that the earlier parts aren’t good—they are; the solemn, then triumphant atmo-black of “The White Mountain View” could compete with any later fan-favourite and is really lovely. But from the first tumbling rollovers of “The End is Drawing Near” onwards, something shifts. The blackened ardour goes from a hum to a storm, and the mournful melodies pitch into urgency (“The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter”), before they cascade down with exquisite sadness (“A Letter,” “The Eulogy”). That bewitching liquidity to the reverb-soaked tremolos—which was present from Panopticon, and which only grew in sublimity over time—dominates these three final songs. In them–particularly closing duo “A Letter,” and “The Eulogy”—you can hear and feel the heart of their creator beating in the expressive, pleasantly audible drumwork, the transcendent soaring of the guitars, and the literal grief and pain in the lyrics he screams into the haze.

2025 has been the year of Panopticon for me, with a discography deep-dive, two albums, and a surprise EP that knocked me off my feet.4 This has only sharpened my perception of the music’s strange magic: although my mind knows, my body forgets between listening sessions, just how good it is. Songs of Hiraeth is not just a coincidental window into the past; it’s another immersive offering of vulnerability revealed at a very specific time—just as crucial as the harrowing Laurentian Blue—and it is, as everything Panopticon creates, fantastic.

Songs to Check Out: ”The White Mountain View,” “The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter,” “The Eulogy”

To be perfectly honest, I no longer recall when or how exactly I encountered Germany’s Dagdrøm for the first time. There’s a pretty good chance it was a Discordian recommendation, or I discovered it organically while sifting through Bandcamp’s new releases feed. Either way, their debut Schauder regularly circulates on my listening rotation. Weirdly, it received very little fanfare from the commenters or other arenas of metallic discourse that I frequent. It’s a shame, because Schauder remains one of the coolest melodic black metal albums released this year.

Unlike the traditional second wave stylings of Sarastus or the cosmic exuberance of Silent Millenia, Dagdrøm’s style is emotional, propelled by chunky post-metal riffs, and uplifted by hopeful atmosphere. That’s not to say Schauder is happy by any means. While its riffs are groovy and sophisticated and its melodies sparkling and brilliant, the overall tone of the record is one of deep yearning and of grieving. Without access to the lyrics, or any understanding of the German language, I possess very little ability to confirm this, but it’s crystal clear to me that Schauder is a deeply personal work fueled by a bleeding heart and a desperate soul.

Schauder by Dagdrøm

Schauder’s greatest strengths are balance and fluidity. In every aspect of its compositions, clever shifts in texture and tone follow the natural progression of human emotion as they move through phases of love, of pain, of grief, and of remembrance. I listen to highlights like opener proper “Ascheregen,” mid-album heartbreaking duo “Atme” and “Flüsse,” or blistering chills “Tagtraum” and “Freund,” and I revel in sublime transitions that bring ascendant tremolo melodies down to earth with caustic, crushing riffs and thrashing percussive rhythms, the next airy lead launching me back to the stratosphere in short order. These moments reprise themselves two or three times in many songs, but not without evolutionary developments or variations informed by the passages that led them there (see the spine-tingling harmonies introduced in the final moments sending “Flüsse” off). As a consequence of such intentional writing, Schauder flows through its expansive 50 minutes with striking ease and makes repeat spins an effortless endeavor.

Don’t let Schauder’s beauty and smoothness fool you, though. Bursting at the seams with killer riffs of varying approaches, aggressive tempos, and venomous screams, Dagdrøm’s debut is a beast with claws and teeth sharp enough to rend flesh from bone. Early bangers like “Ascheregen” and late album rippers “Ära” and “Kalte Fliesen” handily demonstrate this, reinforcing that a black metal band in touch with their emotions is just as menacing, if not more so, than the aloof, the cold, and the distant. Schauder is none of these things. It’s intimate, vulnerable, and expressive while still delivering energetic, raucous, and compelling songs. That makes it special.

If you are ever looking to recommend something to me, especially in the ashen realms of black metal, let this be your litmus. Dagdrøm may be new on the scene and they may eschew some of the classic melodic black metal tropes that made the genre a staple, but Schauder is not to be overlooked. You miss this, you miss out!

Tracks to Check Out: “Ascheregen,” “Atme,” “Flüsse,” “Kalte Fliesen”

Clouds – Desprins [Things You Might Have Missed 2025]

By Thus Spoke

Those of you who have been paying close attention may remember that Clouds’ 2021 album Despǎrțire was the subject of my very first review here at AMG; a review that in my n00bish naïveté, I appended with a 4.5. I don’t regret it, but will admit the name Clouds had faded a little in my mind before a sudden and apparently unannounced drop of Desprins back in January caused all the sweet sadness to come flooding back. The distinctive shroud of flute-accented darkness fell instantly. At once I was transported back to that November evening I first listened to Clouds, gazing out of the train window at the blackness beyond.

Desprins is transportive not simply as a continuation of Clouds’ endless journey of despair, but as an extension of it. Heavier and simultaneously more reflective than Despǎrțire, it channels the group’s black, choked funeral doom through a spacious synth veil recalling their earliest material, but now more confidently and atmospherically woven. The duality between the heaviest and gentlest aspects—a tension Clouds have always experimented with—is sharpened. The grittiness of the metal, the plaintiveness of the singing, and airiness of the acoustic instruments are more stark, but in a way that balances the musical and emotional waves of tension and release. In a limbo of atmosphere, Daniel Neagoe tells us in solemn whispers what he elsewhere expresses with pained cries and guttural roars; heavy riffs lift and drums slip away at bar’s end for a piano to take the lead; quiet softly crescendoes back on the ascent of a flute: all flow and fade inevitably out of each other.

One could argue that the congruence of Desprins’ apparently disparate musical elements owes its existence to how straightforwardly, heartbreakingly beautiful the melodies thus forged are. Whether first announced by a flute (“Disguise”), a piano (“Unanswered”), synth (“Life Becomes Lifeless”) or a guitar (“Chain Me,” “Chasing Ghosts”), all players pull on the thread of the theme before long. The chasms that come from marrying guitar chords with flute (“Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Forge Another Nightmare”), and opening out to stripped-back synth and apathetic cleans, when you can hear every touch on the keys and feel the impact of every drumbeat, are profound musically and emotionally. These are the kinds of passages designed for wistful staring into the middle distance, whose pathos is so acute, it’s almost unfair. “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Chain Me,” and the finale of “Chasing Ghosts” are especially potent. With a seemingly more sparse soundscape, they achieve what Shape of Despair do with a more grandiose one. I am, admittedly, a crybaby, but Clouds’ ability to bring me to tears in a more melancholic frame of mind is something I hold in high esteem.

Perhaps more so than before, Clouds’ latest incarnation is something that either really works for you or really doesn’t. I’m obviously in the former camp. Like other funeral doom acts, and analogously dolorous music, the portal of sadness they create is effective only insofar as it can pull its listener in. Desprins sees a doubling-down on everything that might make Clouds hard to listen to—the misery, the polarity between the crushing and uplifting—but its execution only makes this project more unique and more uniquely captivating.

Tracks to Check Out: ”Disguise,” “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Forge Another Nightmare,” “Chasing Ghosts.”

#2025 #Clouds #DeathDoom #Desprins #Doom #DoomDeath #FuneralDoom #RomanianMetal #ShapeOfDespair #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2025

Citadel – Descension [Things You Might Have Missed 2025]

By Kenstrosity

2025 has been a banner year for the long form in my book. With such high-ranking triumphs from Tómarúm, An Abstract Illusion, and Flummox in rotation, you’d think there wouldn’t be any time left for another. Yet, New Jersey trio1 Citadel dropped the lush and dramatic Descension upon the Earth back in late March, and it’s never left my rotation since.

Descension is the kind of album that reminds me of many, but punches with a weighty impact matched by so few. Highly reminiscent of olde Opeth in terms of structure and scale, Citadel’s songwriting attacks like Carnosus and emotes like An Abstract Illusion. As a result, these seven tracks—the shortest of which clocks in at seven-and-a-half minutes—are packed with vicious riffs, brimming with weepy melodies, and bursting with explosive energy. Thankfully, primary songwriter Ameer Aljallad had the foresight to allow each of his sprawling excursions their soft side as well. Buttery transitions from crushing riff-fests to delicate dalliances afford Descension a tangible dimensional depth and an inviting character.

Easily one of the strongest songs released this year, “Sorrow of the Thousandth Death” explores and expounds upon Citadel’s many virtues. At a mind-boggling nine minutes and change, the ravenous progressive death charge this track propels summons a spine-rending surge of momentum with an uncanny ease. Instantly memorable just for this indelible moment, it continues to impress with a fantastic assortment of riff variations and evolutions that carry the weight of the track’s runtime as I would a feather on my shoulder—almost as if it wasn’t even there. Other highlights like “Crescent Dissentient” and “Downwards Ever” accomplish the same feat, but with their own voice. The former shadows the soundscape with a blackened char and a bellowing cello refrain, mixed with an Aquilus-esque piano étude in its midsection, that exhibits Citadel’s versatility as songwriters and performers. In the latter’s case, boisterous bass plucking, multilayered tremolo sweeps, and a brassy trumpet bring in a swaggering sass to the affair; not strong enough to upend what Descension constructed up to that point but certainly enough to give it a noticeable and delightful twist.

Even without these particularly vivid highlights singled out, Descension is still a significant triumph of mood and movement. Every passing minute immerses me further into the wondrous worlds Citadel conjure along this journey. Each song ties to the last and begets the next, but owes neither its loyalty or dependence. “Under the Primrose,” for example, sets itself apart with eerie cleans against bright, airy melodies, evoking visions not unlike those penned by Lewis Carrol in his writing. Even so, its placement at the center of the runtime serves a critical role not just to its own success as the lightest offering, but also to the success of its neighbors and of the whole. Thunderous closer “As One” does the same for the second half, resolving the proggy lilt of “A Shadow in the Mist” and the tumultuous drama of “Downwards Ever” in a crushing campaign of highly melodic riffs, howling rasps, and pummeling rhythms that only make sense as the final destination for everything that came before.

Rare is the record of this style and structure that captures my undivided attention back to front, but Citadel is an unqualified success on that front. Dramatic, emotive, and energetic, Descension is easily their best work, and will be incredibly difficult to follow up. But it’s far too early to worry about that. For now, sit back and enjoy ov deep Descension!

Tracks to Check Out: “Sorrow of the Thousandth Death,” “Crescent Dissentient,”” “Downwards Ever,” “As One”

#2025 #blackenedDeathMetal #citadel #deathMetal #descension #melodicDeathMetal #progressiveDeathMetal #progressiveMetal #review #reviews #selfRelease #selfReleased #thingsYouMightHaveMissed #thingsYouMightHaveMissed2025