#triptykon — Public Fediverse posts

A misshapen, gangly, but dangerous creature once roamed the alleys and backways of Chicago, hunting for prey. Lair of the Minotaur was that altered beast, and it trafficked in a skin-melting brand of sludge-crust-thrash that was raw for the sake of rawness and heavy enough to crush a bus full of anvils. Featuring members of Serpent Crown, Nachtmystium, and Vanishment, Minotaur was loaded with seasoned, angry fiends, and on albums like The Ultimate Destroyer and Evil Power, they set out to pulverize the populace with a savage, nasty sound and an attitude that screamed: “Taste the floor, poser!” Since 2010s Evil Power, it’s been pretty quiet at Camp Bullhead, but 2026 sees them roaring back to seize the means of noise production from the soft pretenders who call themselves metal heads these days. On I Hail I, they unearth their loud, caustic, abrasive-as-fook sound and inject it with MOAR juice for 30 minutes of sonic abuse and humiliation. Is this a good thing?

It doesn’t take long to figure out the answer. Opener “Emperor of Dis” is 2 minutes of rough, filthy sludge-crust that sounds like Entombed had a gigantic baby with Black Royal and then let Biohazard raise it in the mean streets. The riffs are massively heavy, and the chugs are utterly brainless but so fucking awesome. I wish the song were 3 minutes longer, and when do I say shit like that? The title track unveils a ridiculously raw guitar tone that sounds like a busted bandsaw, and then grinds your privates with it for 2-plus minutes. It’s beautiful misery and borders on industrial noise. “Fucked Inside Out” is a weirdly accurate descriptor for how this track sounds, taking Entombed’s Wolverine Blues blueprint and upping the ante considerably for a rowdy, uncouth piece of absolute sewage. It’s the roughest 1:39 you’ll spend this year unless you fall into an industrial meatgrinder, and even then it’ll be close.

When “Saturnus Reign” comes around, you know these goons are deadly serious about this comeback. This is straight-up obscenely heavy death-doom with one boot on your throat and the other up your ass. That repeating, oppressive riff that kicks off at 0:48 is a fucking world eater that Bolt Thrower should have come up with in the 90s, and it’s going to destroy your fat face. When it drags to a halt only to jump back to life when Steve Rathbone roars, “Seventh Gate!”, it’s a special moment. 7-plus minute closer, “Tartarus Apocalypse” is another massive piece of old school death-doom with monolithic riffs that reek of Triptykon, and they’ll crush you into ass pulp in short order. With so much winning, what could possibly go wrong? Well, the cover of Southern Gothic vocalist Ethel Cain’s “Family Tree” refashioned as a scalding, Darkthrone-esque black metal piece is inspired but doesn’t really fit with the rest of the album. Follow-up cut “Vulture Worship” is a weird semi-techno, electronica-meets-synth-death experiment that doesn’t really work either. “Deepest Hell” is plenty heavy but doesn’t have the same visceral impact as its better album-mates. With 3 misses on a 30-minute album, that leaves a significant bruise. Still, the good is really fooking good and most of I Hail I will wax your ass with lava!

Steve Rathbone’s guitar tone and collection of bullying, harassing riffs sell this shit like wagyu beef smoothies at a honey badger convention. I’ve been getting oppressed by them for a week, and I keep coming back for more because MOAR. This is just ludicrously heavy, unpolished metal played at volumes unsafe even for dead things. Add to the fracas Rathbone’s hoarse roaring and guttural croaking, and things start to sound like a lunatic asylum in Hell. The dude can howl and bellow with enough conviction to get him a 72-hour psych hold, and that might actually do him some good. Sanford Parker (ex-Nachtmystium) assists Rathbone with the flesh tenderizing with his fat, thrumming low-end bass work that fills every gap with rancid sludge as Kristopher Wozniak pounds away on his kit like a meth-fueled baboon (pronounced bab-BOOM). It’s a huge, loud, chaotic dump of an album,1 but Sanford Parker did his magic as a producer and made it all palatable to the senses somehow. The guitar tone he captured here alone should earn him a Producer o’ the Year nomination.

I Hail I is a wild, weird ride through burning garbage and melting excrement. It wanders places it shouldn’t, but when it arrives at its proper destination, it will fucking kill you. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the same guys who wrote, “Let’s Kill These Motherfuckers” can still bring the hammer down forcibly. Lair of the Minotaur have returned, and the impact crater they left behind is prodigious. Listen with caution while this thing tries to gut you like a slimy fish. Hail yourself.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: The Grind-House
Websites: lairoftheminotaur.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

A misshapen, gangly, but dangerous creature once roamed the alleys and backways of Chicago, hunting for prey. Lair of the Minotaur was that altered beast, and it trafficked in a skin-melting brand of sludge-crust-thrash that was raw for the sake of rawness and heavy enough to crush a bus full of anvils. Featuring members of Serpent Crown, Nachtmystium, and Vanishment, Minotaur was loaded with seasoned, angry fiends, and on albums like The Ultimate Destroyer and Evil Power, they set out to pulverize the populace with a savage, nasty sound and an attitude that screamed: “Taste the floor, poser!” Since 2010s Evil Power, it’s been pretty quiet at Camp Bullhead, but 2026 sees them roaring back to seize the means of noise production from the soft pretenders who call themselves metal heads these days. On I Hail I, they unearth their loud, caustic, abrasive-as-fook sound and inject it with MOAR juice for 30 minutes of sonic abuse and humiliation. Is this a good thing?

It doesn’t take long to figure out the answer. Opener “Emperor of Dis” is 2 minutes of rough, filthy sludge-crust that sounds like Entombed had a gigantic baby with Black Royal and then let Biohazard raise it in the mean streets. The riffs are massively heavy, and the chugs are utterly brainless but so fucking awesome. I wish the song were 3 minutes longer, and when do I say shit like that? The title track unveils a ridiculously raw guitar tone that sounds like a busted bandsaw, and then grinds your privates with it for 2-plus minutes. It’s beautiful misery and borders on industrial noise. “Fucked Inside Out” is a weirdly accurate descriptor for how this track sounds, taking Entombed’s Wolverine Blues blueprint and upping the ante considerably for a rowdy, uncouth piece of absolute sewage. It’s the roughest 1:39 you’ll spend this year unless you fall into an industrial meatgrinder, and even then it’ll be close.

When “Saturnus Reign” comes around, you know these goons are deadly serious about this comeback. This is straight-up obscenely heavy death-doom with one boot on your throat and the other up your ass. That repeating, oppressive riff that kicks off at 0:48 is a fucking world eater that Bolt Thrower should have come up with in the 90s, and it’s going to destroy your fat face. When it drags to a halt only to jump back to life when Steve Rathbone roars, “Seventh Gate!”, it’s a special moment. 7-plus minute closer, “Tartarus Apocalypse” is another massive piece of old school death-doom with monolithic riffs that reek of Triptykon, and they’ll crush you into ass pulp in short order. With so much winning, what could possibly go wrong? Well, the cover of Southern Gothic vocalist Ethel Cain’s “Family Tree” refashioned as a scalding, Darkthrone-esque black metal piece is inspired but doesn’t really fit with the rest of the album. Follow-up cut “Vulture Worship” is a weird semi-techno, electronica-meets-synth-death experiment that doesn’t really work either. “Deepest Hell” is plenty heavy but doesn’t have the same visceral impact as its better album-mates. With 3 misses on a 30-minute album, that leaves a significant bruise. Still, the good is really fooking good and most of I Hail I will wax your ass with lava!

Steve Rathbone’s guitar tone and collection of bullying, harassing riffs sell this shit like wagyu beef smoothies at a honey badger convention. I’ve been getting oppressed by them for a week, and I keep coming back for more because MOAR. This is just ludicrously heavy, unpolished metal played at volumes unsafe even for dead things. Add to the fracas Rathbone’s hoarse roaring and guttural croaking, and things start to sound like a lunatic asylum in Hell. The dude can howl and bellow with enough conviction to get him a 72-hour psych hold, and that might actually do him some good. Sanford Parker (ex-Nachtmystium) assists Rathbone with the flesh tenderizing with his fat, thrumming low-end bass work that fills every gap with rancid sludge as Kristopher Wozniak pounds away on his kit like a meth-fueled baboon (pronounced bab-BOOM). It’s a huge, loud, chaotic dump of an album,1 but Sanford Parker did his magic as a producer and made it all palatable to the senses somehow. The guitar tone he captured here alone should earn him a Producer o’ the Year nomination.

I Hail I is a wild, weird ride through burning garbage and melting excrement. It wanders places it shouldn’t, but when it arrives at its proper destination, it will fucking kill you. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the same guys who wrote, “Let’s Kill These Motherfuckers” can still bring the hammer down forcibly. Lair of the Minotaur have returned, and the impact crater they left behind is prodigious. Listen with caution while this thing tries to gut you like a slimy fish. Hail yourself.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: The Grind-House
Websites: lairoftheminotaur.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

A misshapen, gangly, but dangerous creature once roamed the alleys and backways of Chicago, hunting for prey. Lair of the Minotaur was that altered beast, and it trafficked in a skin-melting brand of sludge-crust-thrash that was raw for the sake of rawness and heavy enough to crush a bus full of anvils. Featuring members of Serpent Crown, Nachtmystium, and Vanishment, Minotaur was loaded with seasoned, angry fiends, and on albums like The Ultimate Destroyer and Evil Power, they set out to pulverize the populace with a savage, nasty sound and an attitude that screamed: “Taste the floor, poser!” Since 2010s Evil Power, it’s been pretty quiet at Camp Bullhead, but 2026 sees them roaring back to seize the means of noise production from the soft pretenders who call themselves metal heads these days. On I Hail I, they unearth their loud, caustic, abrasive-as-fook sound and inject it with MOAR juice for 30 minutes of sonic abuse and humiliation. Is this a good thing?

It doesn’t take long to figure out the answer. Opener “Emperor of Dis” is 2 minutes of rough, filthy sludge-crust that sounds like Entombed had a gigantic baby with Black Royal and then let Biohazard raise it in the mean streets. The riffs are massively heavy, and the chugs are utterly brainless but so fucking awesome. I wish the song were 3 minutes longer, and when do I say shit like that? The title track unveils a ridiculously raw guitar tone that sounds like a busted bandsaw, and then grinds your privates with it for 2-plus minutes. It’s beautiful misery and borders on industrial noise. “Fucked Inside Out” is a weirdly accurate descriptor for how this track sounds, taking Entombed’s Wolverine Blues blueprint and upping the ante considerably for a rowdy, uncouth piece of absolute sewage. It’s the roughest 1:39 you’ll spend this year unless you fall into an industrial meatgrinder, and even then it’ll be close.

When “Saturnus Reign” comes around, you know these goons are deadly serious about this comeback. This is straight-up obscenely heavy death-doom with one boot on your throat and the other up your ass. That repeating, oppressive riff that kicks off at 0:48 is a fucking world eater that Bolt Thrower should have come up with in the 90s, and it’s going to destroy your fat face. When it drags to a halt only to jump back to life when Steve Rathbone roars, “Seventh Gate!”, it’s a special moment. 7-plus minute closer, “Tartarus Apocalypse” is another massive piece of old school death-doom with monolithic riffs that reek of Triptykon, and they’ll crush you into ass pulp in short order. With so much winning, what could possibly go wrong? Well, the cover of Southern Gothic vocalist Ethel Cain’s “Family Tree” refashioned as a scalding, Darkthrone-esque black metal piece is inspired but doesn’t really fit with the rest of the album. Follow-up cut “Vulture Worship” is a weird semi-techno, electronica-meets-synth-death experiment that doesn’t really work either. “Deepest Hell” is plenty heavy but doesn’t have the same visceral impact as its better album-mates. With 3 misses on a 30-minute album, that leaves a significant bruise. Still, the good is really fooking good and most of I Hail I will wax your ass with lava!

Steve Rathbone’s guitar tone and collection of bullying, harassing riffs sell this shit like wagyu beef smoothies at a honey badger convention. I’ve been getting oppressed by them for a week, and I keep coming back for more because MOAR. This is just ludicrously heavy, unpolished metal played at volumes unsafe even for dead things. Add to the fracas Rathbone’s hoarse roaring and guttural croaking, and things start to sound like a lunatic asylum in Hell. The dude can howl and bellow with enough conviction to get him a 72-hour psych hold, and that might actually do him some good. Sanford Parker (ex-Nachtmystium) assists Rathbone with the flesh tenderizing with his fat, thrumming low-end bass work that fills every gap with rancid sludge as Kristopher Wozniak pounds away on his kit like a meth-fueled baboon (pronounced bab-BOOM). It’s a huge, loud, chaotic dump of an album,1 but Sanford Parker did his magic as a producer and made it all palatable to the senses somehow. The guitar tone he captured here alone should earn him a Producer o’ the Year nomination.

I Hail I is a wild, weird ride through burning garbage and melting excrement. It wanders places it shouldn’t, but when it arrives at its proper destination, it will fucking kill you. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the same guys who wrote, “Let’s Kill These Motherfuckers” can still bring the hammer down forcibly. Lair of the Minotaur have returned, and the impact crater they left behind is prodigious. Listen with caution while this thing tries to gut you like a slimy fish. Hail yourself.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: The Grind-House
Websites: lairoftheminotaur.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

A misshapen, gangly, but dangerous creature once roamed the alleys and backways of Chicago, hunting for prey. Lair of the Minotaur was that altered beast, and it trafficked in a skin-melting brand of sludge-crust-thrash that was raw for the sake of rawness and heavy enough to crush a bus full of anvils. Featuring members of Serpent Crown, Nachtmystium, and Vanishment, Minotaur was loaded with seasoned, angry fiends, and on albums like The Ultimate Destroyer and Evil Power, they set out to pulverize the populace with a savage, nasty sound and an attitude that screamed: “Taste the floor, poser!” Since 2010s Evil Power, it’s been pretty quiet at Camp Bullhead, but 2026 sees them roaring back to seize the means of noise production from the soft pretenders who call themselves metal heads these days. On I Hail I, they unearth their loud, caustic, abrasive-as-fook sound and inject it with MOAR juice for 30 minutes of sonic abuse and humiliation. Is this a good thing?

It doesn’t take long to figure out the answer. Opener “Emperor of Dis” is 2 minutes of rough, filthy sludge-crust that sounds like Entombed had a gigantic baby with Black Royal and then let Biohazard raise it in the mean streets. The riffs are massively heavy, and the chugs are utterly brainless but so fucking awesome. I wish the song were 3 minutes longer, and when do I say shit like that? The title track unveils a ridiculously raw guitar tone that sounds like a busted bandsaw, and then grinds your privates with it for 2-plus minutes. It’s beautiful misery and borders on industrial noise. “Fucked Inside Out” is a weirdly accurate descriptor for how this track sounds, taking Entombed’s Wolverine Blues blueprint and upping the ante considerably for a rowdy, uncouth piece of absolute sewage. It’s the roughest 1:39 you’ll spend this year unless you fall into an industrial meatgrinder, and even then it’ll be close.

When “Saturnus Reign” comes around, you know these goons are deadly serious about this comeback. This is straight-up obscenely heavy death-doom with one boot on your throat and the other up your ass. That repeating, oppressive riff that kicks off at 0:48 is a fucking world eater that Bolt Thrower should have come up with in the 90s, and it’s going to destroy your fat face. When it drags to a halt only to jump back to life when Steve Rathbone roars, “Seventh Gate!”, it’s a special moment. 7-plus minute closer, “Tartarus Apocalypse” is another massive piece of old school death-doom with monolithic riffs that reek of Triptykon, and they’ll crush you into ass pulp in short order. With so much winning, what could possibly go wrong? Well, the cover of Southern Gothic vocalist Ethel Cain’s “Family Tree” refashioned as a scalding, Darkthrone-esque black metal piece is inspired but doesn’t really fit with the rest of the album. Follow-up cut “Vulture Worship” is a weird semi-techno, electronica-meets-synth-death experiment that doesn’t really work either. “Deepest Hell” is plenty heavy but doesn’t have the same visceral impact as its better album-mates. With 3 misses on a 30-minute album, that leaves a significant bruise. Still, the good is really fooking good and most of I Hail I will wax your ass with lava!

Steve Rathbone’s guitar tone and collection of bullying, harassing riffs sell this shit like wagyu beef smoothies at a honey badger convention. I’ve been getting oppressed by them for a week, and I keep coming back for more because MOAR. This is just ludicrously heavy, unpolished metal played at volumes unsafe even for dead things. Add to the fracas Rathbone’s hoarse roaring and guttural croaking, and things start to sound like a lunatic asylum in Hell. The dude can howl and bellow with enough conviction to get him a 72-hour psych hold, and that might actually do him some good. Sanford Parker (ex-Nachtmystium) assists Rathbone with the flesh tenderizing with his fat, thrumming low-end bass work that fills every gap with rancid sludge as Kristopher Wozniak pounds away on his kit like a meth-fueled baboon (pronounced bab-BOOM). It’s a huge, loud, chaotic dump of an album,1 but Sanford Parker did his magic as a producer and made it all palatable to the senses somehow. The guitar tone he captured here alone should earn him a Producer o’ the Year nomination.

I Hail I is a wild, weird ride through burning garbage and melting excrement. It wanders places it shouldn’t, but when it arrives at its proper destination, it will fucking kill you. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the same guys who wrote, “Let’s Kill These Motherfuckers” can still bring the hammer down forcibly. Lair of the Minotaur have returned, and the impact crater they left behind is prodigious. Listen with caution while this thing tries to gut you like a slimy fish. Hail yourself.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: The Grind-House
Websites: lairoftheminotaur.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

A misshapen, gangly, but dangerous creature once roamed the alleys and backways of Chicago, hunting for prey. Lair of the Minotaur was that altered beast, and it trafficked in a skin-melting brand of sludge-crust-thrash that was raw for the sake of rawness and heavy enough to crush a bus full of anvils. Featuring members of Serpent Crown, Nachtmystium, and Vanishment, Minotaur was loaded with seasoned, angry fiends, and on albums like The Ultimate Destroyer and Evil Power, they set out to pulverize the populace with a savage, nasty sound and an attitude that screamed: “Taste the floor, poser!” Since 2010s Evil Power, it’s been pretty quiet at Camp Bullhead, but 2026 sees them roaring back to seize the means of noise production from the soft pretenders who call themselves metal heads these days. On I Hail I, they unearth their loud, caustic, abrasive-as-fook sound and inject it with MOAR juice for 30 minutes of sonic abuse and humiliation. Is this a good thing?

It doesn’t take long to figure out the answer. Opener “Emperor of Dis” is 2 minutes of rough, filthy sludge-crust that sounds like Entombed had a gigantic baby with Black Royal and then let Biohazard raise it in the mean streets. The riffs are massively heavy, and the chugs are utterly brainless but so fucking awesome. I wish the song were 3 minutes longer, and when do I say shit like that? The title track unveils a ridiculously raw guitar tone that sounds like a busted bandsaw, and then grinds your privates with it for 2-plus minutes. It’s beautiful misery and borders on industrial noise. “Fucked Inside Out” is a weirdly accurate descriptor for how this track sounds, taking Entombed’s Wolverine Blues blueprint and upping the ante considerably for a rowdy, uncouth piece of absolute sewage. It’s the roughest 1:39 you’ll spend this year unless you fall into an industrial meatgrinder, and even then it’ll be close.

When “Saturnus Reign” comes around, you know these goons are deadly serious about this comeback. This is straight-up obscenely heavy death-doom with one boot on your throat and the other up your ass. That repeating, oppressive riff that kicks off at 0:48 is a fucking world eater that Bolt Thrower should have come up with in the 90s, and it’s going to destroy your fat face. When it drags to a halt only to jump back to life when Steve Rathbone roars, “Seventh Gate!”, it’s a special moment. 7-plus minute closer, “Tartarus Apocalypse” is another massive piece of old school death-doom with monolithic riffs that reek of Triptykon, and they’ll crush you into ass pulp in short order. With so much winning, what could possibly go wrong? Well, the cover of Southern Gothic vocalist Ethel Cain’s “Family Tree” refashioned as a scalding, Darkthrone-esque black metal piece is inspired but doesn’t really fit with the rest of the album. Follow-up cut “Vulture Worship” is a weird semi-techno, electronica-meets-synth-death experiment that doesn’t really work either. “Deepest Hell” is plenty heavy but doesn’t have the same visceral impact as its better album-mates. With 3 misses on a 30-minute album, that leaves a significant bruise. Still, the good is really fooking good and most of I Hail I will wax your ass with lava!

Steve Rathbone’s guitar tone and collection of bullying, harassing riffs sell this shit like wagyu beef smoothies at a honey badger convention. I’ve been getting oppressed by them for a week, and I keep coming back for more because MOAR. This is just ludicrously heavy, unpolished metal played at volumes unsafe even for dead things. Add to the fracas Rathbone’s hoarse roaring and guttural croaking, and things start to sound like a lunatic asylum in Hell. The dude can howl and bellow with enough conviction to get him a 72-hour psych hold, and that might actually do him some good. Sanford Parker (ex-Nachtmystium) assists Rathbone with the flesh tenderizing with his fat, thrumming low-end bass work that fills every gap with rancid sludge as Kristopher Wozniak pounds away on his kit like a meth-fueled baboon (pronounced bab-BOOM). It’s a huge, loud, chaotic dump of an album,1 but Sanford Parker did his magic as a producer and made it all palatable to the senses somehow. The guitar tone he captured here alone should earn him a Producer o’ the Year nomination.

I Hail I is a wild, weird ride through burning garbage and melting excrement. It wanders places it shouldn’t, but when it arrives at its proper destination, it will fucking kill you. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the same guys who wrote, “Let’s Kill These Motherfuckers” can still bring the hammer down forcibly. Lair of the Minotaur have returned, and the impact crater they left behind is prodigious. Listen with caution while this thing tries to gut you like a slimy fish. Hail yourself.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: The Grind-House
Websites: lairoftheminotaur.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

Crotaline – The Embrace of Cloacal Desire Review

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #1.5 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #AU #Australia #Bathory #BlackMetal #CelticFrost #Crotaline #Darkthrone #Deicide #Emperor #Entertainment #Hellhammer #HighonFire #Immortal #LiminalDreadProductions #mayhem #review #reviews #SirMix-A-Lot #Testament #TheEmbraceofCloacalDesire #Triptykon #Venom
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/591284/

Crotaline – The Embrace of Cloacal Desire Review

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #1.5 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #AU #Australia #Bathory #BlackMetal #CelticFrost #Crotaline #Darkthrone #Deicide #Emperor #Entertainment #Hellhammer #HighonFire #Immortal #LiminalDreadProductions #mayhem #review #reviews #SirMix-A-Lot #Testament #TheEmbraceofCloacalDesire #Triptykon #Venom
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/591284/

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.

In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.

Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.

In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.

Rating: Bad
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.

In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.

Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.

In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.

Rating: Bad
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.

In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.

Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.

In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.

Rating: Bad
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.

In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.

Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.

In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.

Rating: Bad
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.

In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.

Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.

In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.

Rating: Bad
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

3/ #eindhovenmetalmeeting day two ended for us with the Swiss giants of #triptykon delivering a selection of newer tunes and #CelticFrost classics to everyone’s delight, and on the second stage, #sinister who made a rare appearance in their native land. Long live EMM!

3/ #eindhovenmetalmeeting day two ended for us with the Swiss giants of #triptykon delivering a selection of newer tunes and #CelticFrost classics to everyone’s delight, and on the second stage, #sinister who made a rare appearance in their native land. Long live EMM!

3/ #eindhovenmetalmeeting day two ended for us with the Swiss giants of #triptykon delivering a selection of newer tunes and #CelticFrost classics to everyone’s delight, and on the second stage, #sinister who made a rare appearance in their native land. Long live EMM!

Tryptikon: Requiem (Live at Roadburn 2019) | vía #SonidosOcultos

https://www.sonidosocultos.com/reportajes/tryptikon-requiem-live-at-roadburn-2019/

#blackmetal #metal #perfilesso #reportajesso #tomgwarrior #triptykon

Tryptikon: Requiem (Live at Roadburn 2019) | vía #SonidosOcultos

https://www.sonidosocultos.com/reportajes/tryptikon-requiem-live-at-roadburn-2019/

#blackmetal #metal #perfilesso #reportajesso #tomgwarrior #triptykon

Ugh! Wir hatten im #BLECHPodcast Tom G. Warrior (#Hellhammer, #CelticFrost, #Triptykon) zu Gast und sprachen über die Anfänge extremer Musik. Neue Folge: https://www.metal1.info/podcast/blech-folge-52-wie-wurde-der-metal-extrem-mit-tom-g-warrior/

An Tóramh – Echoes of Eternal Night Review

By Steel Druhm

Coming off the titanic ass-whipping I received from atmo-doom upstarts Structure, I stumbled concussed and confuzzled right into a funeral doom bushwhacking by the unheralded Minneapolis-based two-man project, An Tóramh.1 Formed by members of Chalice of Suffering and Goatwitch, An Tóramh play brain-pulping funerary muzak draped in existential dread and gutwrenching despair, as all things should be. Echoes of Eternal Night borrows essential talismans and reliquaries from the graves of Loss, Evoken, and Ataraxie to create an emotionally deadening experience that slowly emulsifies your skeletal structure into Laffy Taffy™. This is weighty, unrelenting stuff, with massive, earth-moving riffs offset by tragically forlorn trilling and all of it vomited upon by gurgling death vocals from the sub-sub-basement of the monstorium. It’s a recipe for a deeply immersive death reverie or a total snooze-fest, depending on the relative skill of those involved. Which side of sleepytime gorilla nap bait will Echoes fall on? Let’s kick the casket tires.

After a mood-setting but overlong intro, the prime beef gets slapped down on the meat table hard with the monolithic title track. This is 7-plus-minutes of fucking HUGE funeral doom with all boxes checked and all lights blinking red like the Chernobyl control room on April 26, 1986. It’s massively heavy, menacing, and flows like molasses mixed with wet concrete. Hideous doom riffs entwine with sadboi harmonies as cymbals crash and John Suffering wretches his internal organs out. It’s harrowing and horrible, but oddly beautiful. “Desolation” runs over nine minutes, opening with an air of hope and positivity before settling into a melancholic doom plod past the graves of empires forlorn. The Candlemassive bittersweet guitar harmonies pair well with the subterranean death croaks, and just when things seem to be drifting back toward hopefulness, the rug gets pulled and you tumble back into eternal darkness.

“Shadows of Despair” is bleak and weepy, but slowly mixes in light, airy synths and strings that remind me of the Friday Night Lights soundtrack by Explosions in the Sky. It creates a strange dichotomy of moods, but it works really well. “Sea of Sorrow” is classic sadboi, melancholic funeral doom, and it blends the sour with the sweet in just the right measures to drag you under the waves. However, some issues hold Echoes of Eternal Night back from a greater triumph. As great as the title track is, no other song captures that same magical misery. “Embrace the Shadows” is quite good, and I love the heavy sighing of the riffs and how the understated symphonic elements add a touch of grandeur and scope to the music, but it doesn’t quite ascend to the same level of masterful doom. Closer “Withering in Sorrow” is an effective piece, but the production here is way worse than on the rest of the album, with the vocals almost totally buried in a much more raw sound, and it reeks of basement demo recording hijinks. Still, the last few minutes bring a deadly Celtic Frost / Triptykon element to the riffs that turns the brain into bug jelly. At just under 50 minutes, Echoes is a very tolerable length, and though every track could be trimmed, this is funeral doom, and the dour duo make good use of the elongated run times.

Anthony Copertino Jr. (Goatwitch) handles everything except vocals and does a great job across the board. His guitar work sticks closely to the original Book ov Funeral Doom, with two-ton riffs coming down hard and weepy melodic trills resounding near and far. Importantly, he knows when to drone and when to shift to a new riff, which aids the ebb and flow of the lengthy compositions. His keyboard/synth work functions as a rounding agent to smooth down the extreme edges, and he never allows them to interfere with the guitars or vocals. Drum-wise, he delivers a satisfyingly heavy, resonant thudding with dramatic cymbal work throughout.2 Meanwhile, John Suffering offers an everflowing stream of mega-deep, monstrous death roars that call to mind the immortal diSEMBOWELMENT. He doesn’t change things up much, but he’s effectively inhuman and anchors the miserable sound palette.

Echoes of Eternal Night is a very successful debut with moments of top-tier funeral doom, and no track turns into a grave collapse. The twosome behind An Tóramh know how to make this oh-so-niche genre compelling and unexpectedly listenable. If you need more unhappiness in your life, this is an album you can wallow in like a doom hog in the tears of the crestfallen. Wrestle that sadpig, poser!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion
Websites: antoramhblacklion.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/antoramh
Releases Worldwide: May 9th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #AnTóramh #Ataraxia #BlackLionRecords #CelticFrost #ChaliceOfSuffering #diSEMBOWELMENT #DoomMetal #EchoesOfEternalNight #Evoken #FuneralDoomMetal #Loss #May25 #Review #Reviews #Triptykon

An Tóramh – Echoes of Eternal Night Review

By Steel Druhm

Coming off the titanic ass-whipping I received from atmo-doom upstarts Structure, I stumbled concussed and confuzzled right into a funeral doom bushwhacking by the unheralded Minneapolis-based two-man project, An Tóramh.1 Formed by members of Chalice of Suffering and Goatwitch, An Tóramh play brain-pulping funerary muzak draped in existential dread and gutwrenching despair, as all things should be. Echoes of Eternal Night borrows essential talismans and reliquaries from the graves of Loss, Evoken, and Ataraxie to create an emotionally deadening experience that slowly emulsifies your skeletal structure into Laffy Taffy™. This is weighty, unrelenting stuff, with massive, earth-moving riffs offset by tragically forlorn trilling and all of it vomited upon by gurgling death vocals from the sub-sub-basement of the monstorium. It’s a recipe for a deeply immersive death reverie or a total snooze-fest, depending on the relative skill of those involved. Which side of sleepytime gorilla nap bait will Echoes fall on? Let’s kick the casket tires.

After a mood-setting but overlong intro, the prime beef gets slapped down on the meat table hard with the monolithic title track. This is 7-plus-minutes of fucking HUGE funeral doom with all boxes checked and all lights blinking red like the Chernobyl control room on April 26, 1986. It’s massively heavy, menacing, and flows like molasses mixed with wet concrete. Hideous doom riffs entwine with sadboi harmonies as cymbals crash and John Suffering wretches his internal organs out. It’s harrowing and horrible, but oddly beautiful. “Desolation” runs over nine minutes, opening with an air of hope and positivity before settling into a melancholic doom plod past the graves of empires forlorn. The Candlemassive bittersweet guitar harmonies pair well with the subterranean death croaks, and just when things seem to be drifting back toward hopefulness, the rug gets pulled and you tumble back into eternal darkness.

“Shadows of Despair” is bleak and weepy, but slowly mixes in light, airy synths and strings that remind me of the Friday Night Lights soundtrack by Explosions in the Sky. It creates a strange dichotomy of moods, but it works really well. “Sea of Sorrow” is classic sadboi, melancholic funeral doom, and it blends the sour with the sweet in just the right measures to drag you under the waves. However, some issues hold Echoes of Eternal Night back from a greater triumph. As great as the title track is, no other song captures that same magical misery. “Embrace the Shadows” is quite good, and I love the heavy sighing of the riffs and how the understated symphonic elements add a touch of grandeur and scope to the music, but it doesn’t quite ascend to the same level of masterful doom. Closer “Withering in Sorrow” is an effective piece, but the production here is way worse than on the rest of the album, with the vocals almost totally buried in a much more raw sound, and it reeks of basement demo recording hijinks. Still, the last few minutes bring a deadly Celtic Frost / Triptykon element to the riffs that turns the brain into bug jelly. At just under 50 minutes, Echoes is a very tolerable length, and though every track could be trimmed, this is funeral doom, and the dour duo make good use of the elongated run times.

Anthony Copertino Jr. (Goatwitch) handles everything except vocals and does a great job across the board. His guitar work sticks closely to the original Book ov Funeral Doom, with two-ton riffs coming down hard and weepy melodic trills resounding near and far. Importantly, he knows when to drone and when to shift to a new riff, which aids the ebb and flow of the lengthy compositions. His keyboard/synth work functions as a rounding agent to smooth down the extreme edges, and he never allows them to interfere with the guitars or vocals. Drum-wise, he delivers a satisfyingly heavy, resonant thudding with dramatic cymbal work throughout.2 Meanwhile, John Suffering offers an everflowing stream of mega-deep, monstrous death roars that call to mind the immortal diSEMBOWELMENT. He doesn’t change things up much, but he’s effectively inhuman and anchors the miserable sound palette.

Echoes of Eternal Night is a very successful debut with moments of top-tier funeral doom, and no track turns into a grave collapse. The twosome behind An Tóramh know how to make this oh-so-niche genre compelling and unexpectedly listenable. If you need more unhappiness in your life, this is an album you can wallow in like a doom hog in the tears of the crestfallen. Wrestle that sadpig, poser!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion
Websites: antoramhblacklion.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/antoramh
Releases Worldwide: May 9th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #AnTóramh #Ataraxia #BlackLionRecords #CelticFrost #ChaliceOfSuffering #diSEMBOWELMENT #DoomMetal #EchoesOfEternalNight #Evoken #FuneralDoomMetal #Loss #May25 #Review #Reviews #Triptykon

An Tóramh – Echoes of Eternal Night Review

By Steel Druhm

Coming off the titanic ass-whipping I received from atmo-doom upstarts Structure, I stumbled concussed and confuzzled right into a funeral doom bushwhacking by the unheralded Minneapolis-based two-man project, An Tóramh.1 Formed by members of Chalice of Suffering and Goatwitch, An Tóramh play brain-pulping funerary muzak draped in existential dread and gutwrenching despair, as all things should be. Echoes of Eternal Night borrows essential talismans and reliquaries from the graves of Loss, Evoken, and Ataraxie to create an emotionally deadening experience that slowly emulsifies your skeletal structure into Laffy Taffy™. This is weighty, unrelenting stuff, with massive, earth-moving riffs offset by tragically forlorn trilling and all of it vomited upon by gurgling death vocals from the sub-sub-basement of the monstorium. It’s a recipe for a deeply immersive death reverie or a total snooze-fest, depending on the relative skill of those involved. Which side of sleepytime gorilla nap bait will Echoes fall on? Let’s kick the casket tires.

After a mood-setting but overlong intro, the prime beef gets slapped down on the meat table hard with the monolithic title track. This is 7-plus-minutes of fucking HUGE funeral doom with all boxes checked and all lights blinking red like the Chernobyl control room on April 26, 1986. It’s massively heavy, menacing, and flows like molasses mixed with wet concrete. Hideous doom riffs entwine with sadboi harmonies as cymbals crash and John Suffering wretches his internal organs out. It’s harrowing and horrible, but oddly beautiful. “Desolation” runs over nine minutes, opening with an air of hope and positivity before settling into a melancholic doom plod past the graves of empires forlorn. The Candlemassive bittersweet guitar harmonies pair well with the subterranean death croaks, and just when things seem to be drifting back toward hopefulness, the rug gets pulled and you tumble back into eternal darkness.

“Shadows of Despair” is bleak and weepy, but slowly mixes in light, airy synths and strings that remind me of the Friday Night Lights soundtrack by Explosions in the Sky. It creates a strange dichotomy of moods, but it works really well. “Sea of Sorrow” is classic sadboi, melancholic funeral doom, and it blends the sour with the sweet in just the right measures to drag you under the waves. However, some issues hold Echoes of Eternal Night back from a greater triumph. As great as the title track is, no other song captures that same magical misery. “Embrace the Shadows” is quite good, and I love the heavy sighing of the riffs and how the understated symphonic elements add a touch of grandeur and scope to the music, but it doesn’t quite ascend to the same level of masterful doom. Closer “Withering in Sorrow” is an effective piece, but the production here is way worse than on the rest of the album, with the vocals almost totally buried in a much more raw sound, and it reeks of basement demo recording hijinks. Still, the last few minutes bring a deadly Celtic Frost / Triptykon element to the riffs that turns the brain into bug jelly. At just under 50 minutes, Echoes is a very tolerable length, and though every track could be trimmed, this is funeral doom, and the dour duo make good use of the elongated run times.

Anthony Copertino Jr. (Goatwitch) handles everything except vocals and does a great job across the board. His guitar work sticks closely to the original Book ov Funeral Doom, with two-ton riffs coming down hard and weepy melodic trills resounding near and far. Importantly, he knows when to drone and when to shift to a new riff, which aids the ebb and flow of the lengthy compositions. His keyboard/synth work functions as a rounding agent to smooth down the extreme edges, and he never allows them to interfere with the guitars or vocals. Drum-wise, he delivers a satisfyingly heavy, resonant thudding with dramatic cymbal work throughout.2 Meanwhile, John Suffering offers an everflowing stream of mega-deep, monstrous death roars that call to mind the immortal diSEMBOWELMENT. He doesn’t change things up much, but he’s effectively inhuman and anchors the miserable sound palette.

Echoes of Eternal Night is a very successful debut with moments of top-tier funeral doom, and no track turns into a grave collapse. The twosome behind An Tóramh know how to make this oh-so-niche genre compelling and unexpectedly listenable. If you need more unhappiness in your life, this is an album you can wallow in like a doom hog in the tears of the crestfallen. Wrestle that sadpig, poser!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion
Websites: antoramhblacklion.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/antoramh
Releases Worldwide: May 9th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #AnTóramh #Ataraxia #BlackLionRecords #CelticFrost #ChaliceOfSuffering #diSEMBOWELMENT #DoomMetal #EchoesOfEternalNight #Evoken #FuneralDoomMetal #Loss #May25 #Review #Reviews #Triptykon

An Tóramh – Echoes of Eternal Night Review

By Steel Druhm

Coming off the titanic ass-whipping I received from atmo-doom upstarts Structure, I stumbled concussed and confuzzled right into a funeral doom bushwhacking by the unheralded Minneapolis-based two-man project, An Tóramh.1 Formed by members of Chalice of Suffering and Goatwitch, An Tóramh play brain-pulping funerary muzak draped in existential dread and gutwrenching despair, as all things should be. Echoes of Eternal Night borrows essential talismans and reliquaries from the graves of Loss, Evoken, and Ataraxie to create an emotionally deadening experience that slowly emulsifies your skeletal structure into Laffy Taffy™. This is weighty, unrelenting stuff, with massive, earth-moving riffs offset by tragically forlorn trilling and all of it vomited upon by gurgling death vocals from the sub-sub-basement of the monstorium. It’s a recipe for a deeply immersive death reverie or a total snooze-fest, depending on the relative skill of those involved. Which side of sleepytime gorilla nap bait will Echoes fall on? Let’s kick the casket tires.

After a mood-setting but overlong intro, the prime beef gets slapped down on the meat table hard with the monolithic title track. This is 7-plus-minutes of fucking HUGE funeral doom with all boxes checked and all lights blinking red like the Chernobyl control room on April 26, 1986. It’s massively heavy, menacing, and flows like molasses mixed with wet concrete. Hideous doom riffs entwine with sadboi harmonies as cymbals crash and John Suffering wretches his internal organs out. It’s harrowing and horrible, but oddly beautiful. “Desolation” runs over nine minutes, opening with an air of hope and positivity before settling into a melancholic doom plod past the graves of empires forlorn. The Candlemassive bittersweet guitar harmonies pair well with the subterranean death croaks, and just when things seem to be drifting back toward hopefulness, the rug gets pulled and you tumble back into eternal darkness.

“Shadows of Despair” is bleak and weepy, but slowly mixes in light, airy synths and strings that remind me of the Friday Night Lights soundtrack by Explosions in the Sky. It creates a strange dichotomy of moods, but it works really well. “Sea of Sorrow” is classic sadboi, melancholic funeral doom, and it blends the sour with the sweet in just the right measures to drag you under the waves. However, some issues hold Echoes of Eternal Night back from a greater triumph. As great as the title track is, no other song captures that same magical misery. “Embrace the Shadows” is quite good, and I love the heavy sighing of the riffs and how the understated symphonic elements add a touch of grandeur and scope to the music, but it doesn’t quite ascend to the same level of masterful doom. Closer “Withering in Sorrow” is an effective piece, but the production here is way worse than on the rest of the album, with the vocals almost totally buried in a much more raw sound, and it reeks of basement demo recording hijinks. Still, the last few minutes bring a deadly Celtic Frost / Triptykon element to the riffs that turns the brain into bug jelly. At just under 50 minutes, Echoes is a very tolerable length, and though every track could be trimmed, this is funeral doom, and the dour duo make good use of the elongated run times.

Anthony Copertino Jr. (Goatwitch) handles everything except vocals and does a great job across the board. His guitar work sticks closely to the original Book ov Funeral Doom, with two-ton riffs coming down hard and weepy melodic trills resounding near and far. Importantly, he knows when to drone and when to shift to a new riff, which aids the ebb and flow of the lengthy compositions. His keyboard/synth work functions as a rounding agent to smooth down the extreme edges, and he never allows them to interfere with the guitars or vocals. Drum-wise, he delivers a satisfyingly heavy, resonant thudding with dramatic cymbal work throughout.2 Meanwhile, John Suffering offers an everflowing stream of mega-deep, monstrous death roars that call to mind the immortal diSEMBOWELMENT. He doesn’t change things up much, but he’s effectively inhuman and anchors the miserable sound palette.

Echoes of Eternal Night is a very successful debut with moments of top-tier funeral doom, and no track turns into a grave collapse. The twosome behind An Tóramh know how to make this oh-so-niche genre compelling and unexpectedly listenable. If you need more unhappiness in your life, this is an album you can wallow in like a doom hog in the tears of the crestfallen. Wrestle that sadpig, poser!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion
Websites: antoramhblacklion.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/antoramh
Releases Worldwide: May 9th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #AnTóramh #Ataraxia #BlackLionRecords #CelticFrost #ChaliceOfSuffering #diSEMBOWELMENT #DoomMetal #EchoesOfEternalNight #Evoken #FuneralDoomMetal #Loss #May25 #Review #Reviews #Triptykon

Chile TerrorFest 2025: El festival que revive el oscuro legado de Hellhammer y Celtic Frost | vía #NaciónRock

https://www.nacionrock.com/chile-terrorfest-2025-el-festival-que-revive-el-oscuro-legado-de-hellhammer-y-celtic-frost/

#agenda #celticfrost #deathmetal #hellhammer #thrashmetal #tomgwarrior #triptykon #triumphofdeath

Chile TerrorFest 2025: El festival que revive el oscuro legado de Hellhammer y Celtic Frost | vía #NaciónRock

https://www.nacionrock.com/chile-terrorfest-2025-el-festival-que-revive-el-oscuro-legado-de-hellhammer-y-celtic-frost/

#agenda #celticfrost #deathmetal #hellhammer #thrashmetal #tomgwarrior #triptykon #triumphofdeath

Bunsenburner – Reverie Review

By Dear Hollow

My relationship with Germany’s Bunsenburner grows with each release, and you could say it’s getting pretty serious, like a dark romantasy. I completely ripped third full-length Poise a new one which garnered the ire of mastermind Ben Krahl. But like any hate relationship that borders on masochistic, he saw the light and sent in follow-up Rituals – and our love blossomed. The act’s backbone lies in the fuzz and jam-sesh vibes of stoner metal, but with enough free jazz and crystalline ambiance to kill a full-grown elephant, it embraces the psychedelia in tasteful ways with instrumental prowess.

Reverie, then, is a continued honing of Bunsenburner’s seemingly scattershot influences, reflecting the pedigree of its contributors.1 While the free jazz of Rituals is certainly present, it is anchored by much-improved fuzzy stoner riffage a la Poise, owing a certain “thinking man’s jam sesh” vibe – oxymoronic or not. Reverie simply feels like a better form of Poise altogether, that the riffs are in the spotlight, but all atmospheric elements shine in enacting a psychedelic shimmer that adds to the weight and teleports it otherworldly planes. It’s the best album Bunsenburner has made, but then again, they made a song named after me. So.

Reverie’s best qualities amp the accessibility. The grooves are tighter, the songs shorter to enhance the effect, and there are still riffs I can’t get out of my head since. There are covers aboard Reverie,2 but Bunsenburner’s sound is so organic it could as easily have been original. As always, Bunsenburner has never felt lacking in its entirely instrumental approach, and with a better track formula focusing on organic movements from riff to riff, the stoner-focused track shine (“Gleam of the Goddess,” “Trigger,” “Catfight,” “Bagbak”) with a renewed urgency that hits hard and fast and doesn’t overstay its welcome, not to mention its trademark atmospheric tricks (e.g. flute in “TORO,” nintendocore synth in “Bagbak”). The jam sesh chemistry feels more palpable here, owing to a fuzz that doesn’t overwhelm and a rich rhythmic tapestry that adds to the replay factor. The album is forty-four minutes, with thirteen tracks to its name – only a handful of songs exceed the three-minute mark, which adds to the conciseness and punch.

A stark departure from Poise, Bunsenburner isn’t all ballsy riffs. Experimental moments abound, like the two part “Letting Go (softly)” and “Letting Go (hardly),” which are in essence the same song with all its melodies and motifs but one feels like a crystalline post-rock song and the other a stoner metal riff-fest. Slower chuggy passages abound that add a sludgy swampiness to the sound (“Golden Shower,” “Triskaidekaphobie”), without dragging the sound into stagnancy. Longer tracks (“Ballade Four,” “Triskaidekaphobie”) balance the two approaches in thick stoner riffs that move smoothly into gentle plucking and back again, in places feeling a tad like a more stoner-oriented Hex-era Earth. The influences of classic guitar abuse reminiscent of psychedelic Jimi Hendrix is felt throughout (“Zodiac Shit,” “Golden Shower”), while bluesy southern rock melodic sensibilities rear Gothic and mysterious heads (“Waltz, alone,” “Ballade Four”). The most obvious remnant of Rituals’ free jazz is track eight, “Dear Hollow,” a minute-long gush of wailing noise, warbling synth, and punky blastbeats – obviously and objectively the best track Bunsenburner has ever released and likely ever will.

Bunsenburner continues to hone its skills. While it sacrifices a bit of the holistic cohesion of Rituals with its more riff-centric attack, Reverie feels more a redemption arc of Poise – its pieces, however disjointed they can feel, are done with stunning clarity, organicity, and power. The grooves hit harder, the atmosphere is more complementary, and the experimental flare is palpable without sacrificing the album cohesion. Its cover’s cuddly black metal kitten is playful homage to the act’s jam-seshing chemistry, although its experimental and atmospheric elements are more than meets the ear. Next time, make the song about me a little longer for a higher score, okay? Kisses!

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 17th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmbientMetal #Bunsenburner #DoomMetal #Earth #FearMyThoughts #FreeJazz #GermanMetal #Jan25 #JimiHendrix #LongDistanceCalling #PostRock #Reverie #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #SludgeMetal #SouthernRock #StonerMetal #Triptykon

Bunsenburner – Reverie Review

By Dear Hollow

My relationship with Germany’s Bunsenburner grows with each release, and you could say it’s getting pretty serious, like a dark romantasy. I completely ripped third full-length Poise a new one which garnered the ire of mastermind Ben Krahl. But like any hate relationship that borders on masochistic, he saw the light and sent in follow-up Rituals – and our love blossomed. The act’s backbone lies in the fuzz and jam-sesh vibes of stoner metal, but with enough free jazz and crystalline ambiance to kill a full-grown elephant, it embraces the psychedelia in tasteful ways with instrumental prowess.

Reverie, then, is a continued honing of Bunsenburner’s seemingly scattershot influences, reflecting the pedigree of its contributors.1 While the free jazz of Rituals is certainly present, it is anchored by much-improved fuzzy stoner riffage a la Poise, owing a certain “thinking man’s jam sesh” vibe – oxymoronic or not. Reverie simply feels like a better form of Poise altogether, that the riffs are in the spotlight, but all atmospheric elements shine in enacting a psychedelic shimmer that adds to the weight and teleports it otherworldly planes. It’s the best album Bunsenburner has made, but then again, they made a song named after me. So.

Reverie’s best qualities amp the accessibility. The grooves are tighter, the songs shorter to enhance the effect, and there are still riffs I can’t get out of my head since. There are covers aboard Reverie,2 but Bunsenburner’s sound is so organic it could as easily have been original. As always, Bunsenburner has never felt lacking in its entirely instrumental approach, and with a better track formula focusing on organic movements from riff to riff, the stoner-focused track shine (“Gleam of the Goddess,” “Trigger,” “Catfight,” “Bagbak”) with a renewed urgency that hits hard and fast and doesn’t overstay its welcome, not to mention its trademark atmospheric tricks (e.g. flute in “TORO,” nintendocore synth in “Bagbak”). The jam sesh chemistry feels more palpable here, owing to a fuzz that doesn’t overwhelm and a rich rhythmic tapestry that adds to the replay factor. The album is forty-four minutes, with thirteen tracks to its name – only a handful of songs exceed the three-minute mark, which adds to the conciseness and punch.

A stark departure from Poise, Bunsenburner isn’t all ballsy riffs. Experimental moments abound, like the two part “Letting Go (softly)” and “Letting Go (hardly),” which are in essence the same song with all its melodies and motifs but one feels like a crystalline post-rock song and the other a stoner metal riff-fest. Slower chuggy passages abound that add a sludgy swampiness to the sound (“Golden Shower,” “Triskaidekaphobie”), without dragging the sound into stagnancy. Longer tracks (“Ballade Four,” “Triskaidekaphobie”) balance the two approaches in thick stoner riffs that move smoothly into gentle plucking and back again, in places feeling a tad like a more stoner-oriented Hex-era Earth. The influences of classic guitar abuse reminiscent of psychedelic Jimi Hendrix is felt throughout (“Zodiac Shit,” “Golden Shower”), while bluesy southern rock melodic sensibilities rear Gothic and mysterious heads (“Waltz, alone,” “Ballade Four”). The most obvious remnant of Rituals’ free jazz is track eight, “Dear Hollow,” a minute-long gush of wailing noise, warbling synth, and punky blastbeats – obviously and objectively the best track Bunsenburner has ever released and likely ever will.

Bunsenburner continues to hone its skills. While it sacrifices a bit of the holistic cohesion of Rituals with its more riff-centric attack, Reverie feels more a redemption arc of Poise – its pieces, however disjointed they can feel, are done with stunning clarity, organicity, and power. The grooves hit harder, the atmosphere is more complementary, and the experimental flare is palpable without sacrificing the album cohesion. Its cover’s cuddly black metal kitten is playful homage to the act’s jam-seshing chemistry, although its experimental and atmospheric elements are more than meets the ear. Next time, make the song about me a little longer for a higher score, okay? Kisses!

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 17th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmbientMetal #Bunsenburner #DoomMetal #Earth #FearMyThoughts #FreeJazz #GermanMetal #Jan25 #JimiHendrix #LongDistanceCalling #PostRock #Reverie #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #SludgeMetal #SouthernRock #StonerMetal #Triptykon

Bunsenburner – Reverie Review

By Dear Hollow

My relationship with Germany’s Bunsenburner grows with each release, and you could say it’s getting pretty serious, like a dark romantasy. I completely ripped third full-length Poise a new one which garnered the ire of mastermind Ben Krahl. But like any hate relationship that borders on masochistic, he saw the light and sent in follow-up Rituals – and our love blossomed. The act’s backbone lies in the fuzz and jam-sesh vibes of stoner metal, but with enough free jazz and crystalline ambiance to kill a full-grown elephant, it embraces the psychedelia in tasteful ways with instrumental prowess.

Reverie, then, is a continued honing of Bunsenburner’s seemingly scattershot influences, reflecting the pedigree of its contributors.1 While the free jazz of Rituals is certainly present, it is anchored by much-improved fuzzy stoner riffage a la Poise, owing a certain “thinking man’s jam sesh” vibe – oxymoronic or not. Reverie simply feels like a better form of Poise altogether, that the riffs are in the spotlight, but all atmospheric elements shine in enacting a psychedelic shimmer that adds to the weight and teleports it otherworldly planes. It’s the best album Bunsenburner has made, but then again, they made a song named after me. So.

Reverie’s best qualities amp the accessibility. The grooves are tighter, the songs shorter to enhance the effect, and there are still riffs I can’t get out of my head since. There are covers aboard Reverie,2 but Bunsenburner’s sound is so organic it could as easily have been original. As always, Bunsenburner has never felt lacking in its entirely instrumental approach, and with a better track formula focusing on organic movements from riff to riff, the stoner-focused track shine (“Gleam of the Goddess,” “Trigger,” “Catfight,” “Bagbak”) with a renewed urgency that hits hard and fast and doesn’t overstay its welcome, not to mention its trademark atmospheric tricks (e.g. flute in “TORO,” nintendocore synth in “Bagbak”). The jam sesh chemistry feels more palpable here, owing to a fuzz that doesn’t overwhelm and a rich rhythmic tapestry that adds to the replay factor. The album is forty-four minutes, with thirteen tracks to its name – only a handful of songs exceed the three-minute mark, which adds to the conciseness and punch.

A stark departure from Poise, Bunsenburner isn’t all ballsy riffs. Experimental moments abound, like the two part “Letting Go (softly)” and “Letting Go (hardly),” which are in essence the same song with all its melodies and motifs but one feels like a crystalline post-rock song and the other a stoner metal riff-fest. Slower chuggy passages abound that add a sludgy swampiness to the sound (“Golden Shower,” “Triskaidekaphobie”), without dragging the sound into stagnancy. Longer tracks (“Ballade Four,” “Triskaidekaphobie”) balance the two approaches in thick stoner riffs that move smoothly into gentle plucking and back again, in places feeling a tad like a more stoner-oriented Hex-era Earth. The influences of classic guitar abuse reminiscent of psychedelic Jimi Hendrix is felt throughout (“Zodiac Shit,” “Golden Shower”), while bluesy southern rock melodic sensibilities rear Gothic and mysterious heads (“Waltz, alone,” “Ballade Four”). The most obvious remnant of Rituals’ free jazz is track eight, “Dear Hollow,” a minute-long gush of wailing noise, warbling synth, and punky blastbeats – obviously and objectively the best track Bunsenburner has ever released and likely ever will.

Bunsenburner continues to hone its skills. While it sacrifices a bit of the holistic cohesion of Rituals with its more riff-centric attack, Reverie feels more a redemption arc of Poise – its pieces, however disjointed they can feel, are done with stunning clarity, organicity, and power. The grooves hit harder, the atmosphere is more complementary, and the experimental flare is palpable without sacrificing the album cohesion. Its cover’s cuddly black metal kitten is playful homage to the act’s jam-seshing chemistry, although its experimental and atmospheric elements are more than meets the ear. Next time, make the song about me a little longer for a higher score, okay? Kisses!

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 17th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmbientMetal #Bunsenburner #DoomMetal #Earth #FearMyThoughts #FreeJazz #GermanMetal #Jan25 #JimiHendrix #LongDistanceCalling #PostRock #Reverie #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #SludgeMetal #SouthernRock #StonerMetal #Triptykon

Bunsenburner – Reverie Review

By Dear Hollow

My relationship with Germany’s Bunsenburner grows with each release, and you could say it’s getting pretty serious, like a dark romantasy. I completely ripped third full-length Poise a new one which garnered the ire of mastermind Ben Krahl. But like any hate relationship that borders on masochistic, he saw the light and sent in follow-up Rituals – and our love blossomed. The act’s backbone lies in the fuzz and jam-sesh vibes of stoner metal, but with enough free jazz and crystalline ambiance to kill a full-grown elephant, it embraces the psychedelia in tasteful ways with instrumental prowess.

Reverie, then, is a continued honing of Bunsenburner’s seemingly scattershot influences, reflecting the pedigree of its contributors.1 While the free jazz of Rituals is certainly present, it is anchored by much-improved fuzzy stoner riffage a la Poise, owing a certain “thinking man’s jam sesh” vibe – oxymoronic or not. Reverie simply feels like a better form of Poise altogether, that the riffs are in the spotlight, but all atmospheric elements shine in enacting a psychedelic shimmer that adds to the weight and teleports it otherworldly planes. It’s the best album Bunsenburner has made, but then again, they made a song named after me. So.

Reverie’s best qualities amp the accessibility. The grooves are tighter, the songs shorter to enhance the effect, and there are still riffs I can’t get out of my head since. There are covers aboard Reverie,2 but Bunsenburner’s sound is so organic it could as easily have been original. As always, Bunsenburner has never felt lacking in its entirely instrumental approach, and with a better track formula focusing on organic movements from riff to riff, the stoner-focused track shine (“Gleam of the Goddess,” “Trigger,” “Catfight,” “Bagbak”) with a renewed urgency that hits hard and fast and doesn’t overstay its welcome, not to mention its trademark atmospheric tricks (e.g. flute in “TORO,” nintendocore synth in “Bagbak”). The jam sesh chemistry feels more palpable here, owing to a fuzz that doesn’t overwhelm and a rich rhythmic tapestry that adds to the replay factor. The album is forty-four minutes, with thirteen tracks to its name – only a handful of songs exceed the three-minute mark, which adds to the conciseness and punch.

A stark departure from Poise, Bunsenburner isn’t all ballsy riffs. Experimental moments abound, like the two part “Letting Go (softly)” and “Letting Go (hardly),” which are in essence the same song with all its melodies and motifs but one feels like a crystalline post-rock song and the other a stoner metal riff-fest. Slower chuggy passages abound that add a sludgy swampiness to the sound (“Golden Shower,” “Triskaidekaphobie”), without dragging the sound into stagnancy. Longer tracks (“Ballade Four,” “Triskaidekaphobie”) balance the two approaches in thick stoner riffs that move smoothly into gentle plucking and back again, in places feeling a tad like a more stoner-oriented Hex-era Earth. The influences of classic guitar abuse reminiscent of psychedelic Jimi Hendrix is felt throughout (“Zodiac Shit,” “Golden Shower”), while bluesy southern rock melodic sensibilities rear Gothic and mysterious heads (“Waltz, alone,” “Ballade Four”). The most obvious remnant of Rituals’ free jazz is track eight, “Dear Hollow,” a minute-long gush of wailing noise, warbling synth, and punky blastbeats – obviously and objectively the best track Bunsenburner has ever released and likely ever will.

Bunsenburner continues to hone its skills. While it sacrifices a bit of the holistic cohesion of Rituals with its more riff-centric attack, Reverie feels more a redemption arc of Poise – its pieces, however disjointed they can feel, are done with stunning clarity, organicity, and power. The grooves hit harder, the atmosphere is more complementary, and the experimental flare is palpable without sacrificing the album cohesion. Its cover’s cuddly black metal kitten is playful homage to the act’s jam-seshing chemistry, although its experimental and atmospheric elements are more than meets the ear. Next time, make the song about me a little longer for a higher score, okay? Kisses!

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 17th, 2025

Show 2 footnotes

1. Norman Lonhard of Triptykon and guitarist Martin Fischer of Fear My Thoughts and Long Distance Calling, as well as jazz guitarist Flo Möbes and avant-garde guitarist Philipp Schlotter. ↩
2. “Ballade Four” by Tosco Tango Quartet, “Zodiac Shit” by Flying Lotus. ↩

#2025 #30 #AmbientMetal #Bunsenburner #DoomMetal #Earth #FearMyThoughts #FreeJazz #GermanMetal #Jan25 #JimiHendrix #LongDistanceCalling #PostRock #Reverie #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #SludgeMetal #SouthernRock #StonerMetal #Triptykon

#TheMetalDogArticleList
#BLABBERMOUTH
TOM GABRIEL FISCHER Says He Has Talked To Ex-CELTIC FROST Drummer REED ST. MARK About Playing Together Again

https://blabbermouth.net/news/tom-gabriel-fischer-says-he-has-talked-to-ex-celtic-frost-drummer-reed-st-mark-about-playing-together-again

#TOMGABRIELFISCHER #REEDSTMARK #CELTICFROST #TRIPTYKON #HELLHAMMER

#TheMetalDogArticleList
#MetalInjection
ALKALOID (OBSCURA, TRIPTYKON, Etc.) Goes Full Tilt On Technical New Single "The Cambrian Explosion"
There are some pretty insane tonal shifts, too.

https://metalinjection.net/new-music/alkaloid-obscura-triptykon-etc-goes-full-tilt-on-technical-new-single-the-cambrian-explosion

#Alkaloid
#Obscura
#Triptykon
#TheCambrianExplosion
#TechnicalDeathMetal
#FulTilt
#NewSingle

#NowPlaying #TheMetalDogIsNowPlaying
#Triptykon
Melana Chasmata
Aurorae

YouTube Search:
https://youtube.com/results?search_query=Triptykon+Melana+Chasmata+Aurorae

Lyrics:
https://genius.com/Triptykon-aurorae-lyrics

Song Link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmyWeOvF_Sg

#doommetal #metal #GothicMetal #heavymetal #Progressivemetal

#NowPlaying #TheMetalDogIsNowPlaying
#Triptykon
Melana Chasmata
Aurorae
https://youtube.com/results?search_query=Triptykon+Melana+Chasmata+Aurorae
https://genius.com/Triptykon-aurorae-lyrics
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmyWeOvF_Sg
#doommetal #metal #GothicMetal #heavymetal #Progressivemetal

Tom Gabriel Warrior lauréat du prix suisse de la culture! :blobcheerbounce: 🤘 #celticfrost #triptykon #metal #suisse
https://schweizerkulturpreise.ch/awards/fr/home/musik/musik-archiv/musik-2021/tom-gabriel-fischer.html