#ukmetal — Public Fediverse posts

Got my fucking BEAUTIFUL red vinyl copy of Cryptworm's new masterpiece. Does NOT get much better than this. 2026 AOTY contender for me, of course.

#metal #DeathMetal #vinyl #Cryptworm #2026Albums #2026Records #Bristol #BristolMetal #UKMetal #UKBands @wendigo @HailsandAles

Void of Light – Asymmetries Review

Does Void of Light refer to a source of luminescence, or is it shorthand for its total absence?…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #4.0 #Apr26 #Asymmetries #DeadlyCarnage #Entertainment #LLNN #PostRock #Post-Black #Post-Metal #review #reviews #Sludge #TheOcean #UKMetal #VoidofLight
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/560750/

Void of Light – Asymmetries Review

Does Void of Light refer to a source of luminescence, or is it shorthand for its total absence?…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #4.0 #Apr26 #Asymmetries #DeadlyCarnage #Entertainment #LLNN #PostRock #Post-Black #Post-Metal #review #reviews #Sludge #TheOcean #UKMetal #VoidofLight
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/560750/

https://www.europesays.com/uk/867692/ Void of Light – Asymmetries Review #2026 #40 #Apr26 #Asymmetries #DeadlyCarnage #Entertainment #LLNN #music #PostRock #PostBlack #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #TheOcean #UK #UKMetal #UnitedKingdom #VoidOfLight

Does Void of Light refer to a source of luminescence, or is it shorthand for its total absence? The group might know something about the latter, hailing as they do from the northerly latitude of Glasgow, Scotland. Their musical medium—a sludgy, atmospheric post-metal—also reflects a dichotomous embodiment of light and dark: often crushingly heavy and thematically bleak, but also upliftingly melodic. Asymmetries—another nod to duality and imbalance—is a debut four years in the making, drawing together the fragments of brutality and reflective ambience from the preceding EPs into a bold statement on who Void of Light are. And decisive that statement certainly is.

Void of Light’s approach to post-metal is rich and dynamic, layering leaden riffing, melancholic melody, and flexible tempos around one another to augment the music’s ability to captivate. Strikingly, flatteringly akin to Deadly Carnage in the expert intermingling of delicacy and harshness (“Still the Night Skies”) and an ever-evolving rhythm, the album flows gracefully. Dips into The Ocean of steady, progressive builds, tangles with LLNN-levels of skull-bashing heaviness (“Mirrorings”), and even flirtation with black metal (“Ends,” “Mirrorings”) compliment a nuanced, emotional soundscape with heart and bite.

Asymmetries by Void of Light

The magnetism of Asymmetries is felt gradually and with progressive strength, like approaching a planet’s gravitational field. Things begin almost understatedly in “The Passing Hours,” with a loose, modulated melody and a steady onward crush that only hints at the depths to come. That is, before the final act gives the game away when soft singing gives way to a jubilant guitar solo over the rush of blackened percussion: a dramatic backdrop for the final reprise. These soaring, energetic guitar lines weave in and out across the record, communicating joy and bittersweet blueness as they variously dance (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and float (“The Passing Hours,” “Still the Night Skies”) over the comparative bluntness. Gentle (“The Passing Hours,” “Ends”) and impassioned (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”) cleans add still more layers of emotion as they move in pitch and volume with or in brilliant opposition to the instrumentation, and equally ardent screams (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies”). None of this would be half as stirring, however, were it not wrapped around the multidimensional rhythmic core that spills over from the percussion to riffs and vocals alike. Rippling fills and agile rolls thread texture upon which singing floats or screams rain down (“The Passing Hours,” “Mirrorings”). Frequent slides into snappy off-beats (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and impressively rich, cascading blackened tirades (“Ends,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”)—the kind you’d expect from Panopticon—intensify already incendiary peaks where aforementioned guitars dance or soar.

Asymmetries, as a name, can only be used complimentarily here; perhaps the worst that could be said is that the album might get even better as it progresses. If I had to be incredibly harsh, I would point to the oft-repeated pattern of songs lapsing midway into stripped-back plucking and singing before the reprise of heaviness. Even then, songs don’t sound the same, and the formula is an effective conduit for tension and emotion, formula though it may be. Really, though, Asymmetries feels ideally formed and structured to deliver the maximum impact as it is: the rhythms growing more fluid and restless, the layers of sung and screamed vocals more multiplicitous, and the returning spaces of poignant ambience serving to gradually dial up the pathos as well as the more tangible force of the riffs, drumbeats, and roars. If the ascendant singing in the final act of “Silver Mask” lifts you up, wait until “Still the Night Skies,” and the cascading multitracking on “Mirrorings”. If “The Passing Hours” jolts you into attention with its final forcefulness, wait until the sudden savagery that closes “Ends” and then how the following songs stack this ardour with that singing, and the consistently gorgeous waves of clear and hazy melody.

Asymmetries’ power was not instantly obvious, but with every listen its grip grew tighter and the sky around it lost its colours as they were drawn into the void. Void of Light effectively communicate a dichotomy between light and shadow in their sad, uplifting, harsh, fragile debut. And if this is where they’re starting from, then heads, hearts, and score-safety-counters everywhere will need to watch out in the future.

Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

Does Void of Light refer to a source of luminescence, or is it shorthand for its total absence? The group might know something about the latter, hailing as they do from the northerly latitude of Glasgow, Scotland. Their musical medium—a sludgy, atmospheric post-metal—also reflects a dichotomous embodiment of light and dark: often crushingly heavy and thematically bleak, but also upliftingly melodic. Asymmetries—another nod to duality and imbalance—is a debut four years in the making, drawing together the fragments of brutality and reflective ambience from the preceding EPs into a bold statement on who Void of Light are. And decisive that statement certainly is.

Void of Light’s approach to post-metal is rich and dynamic, layering leaden riffing, melancholic melody, and flexible tempos around one another to augment the music’s ability to captivate. Strikingly, flatteringly akin to Deadly Carnage in the expert intermingling of delicacy and harshness (“Still the Night Skies”) and an ever-evolving rhythm, the album flows gracefully. Dips into The Ocean of steady, progressive builds, tangles with LLNN-levels of skull-bashing heaviness (“Mirrorings”), and even flirtation with black metal (“Ends,” “Mirrorings”) compliment a nuanced, emotional soundscape with heart and bite.

Asymmetries by Void of Light

The magnetism of Asymmetries is felt gradually and with progressive strength, like approaching a planet’s gravitational field. Things begin almost understatedly in “The Passing Hours,” with a loose, modulated melody and a steady onward crush that only hints at the depths to come. That is, before the final act gives the game away when soft singing gives way to a jubilant guitar solo over the rush of blackened percussion: a dramatic backdrop for the final reprise. These soaring, energetic guitar lines weave in and out across the record, communicating joy and bittersweet blueness as they variously dance (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and float (“The Passing Hours,” “Still the Night Skies”) over the comparative bluntness. Gentle (“The Passing Hours,” “Ends”) and impassioned (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”) cleans add still more layers of emotion as they move in pitch and volume with or in brilliant opposition to the instrumentation, and equally ardent screams (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies”). None of this would be half as stirring, however, were it not wrapped around the multidimensional rhythmic core that spills over from the percussion to riffs and vocals alike. Rippling fills and agile rolls thread texture upon which singing floats or screams rain down (“The Passing Hours,” “Mirrorings”). Frequent slides into snappy off-beats (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and impressively rich, cascading blackened tirades (“Ends,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”)—the kind you’d expect from Panopticon—intensify already incendiary peaks where aforementioned guitars dance or soar.

Asymmetries, as a name, can only be used complimentarily here; perhaps the worst that could be said is that the album might get even better as it progresses. If I had to be incredibly harsh, I would point to the oft-repeated pattern of songs lapsing midway into stripped-back plucking and singing before the reprise of heaviness. Even then, songs don’t sound the same, and the formula is an effective conduit for tension and emotion, formula though it may be. Really, though, Asymmetries feels ideally formed and structured to deliver the maximum impact as it is: the rhythms growing more fluid and restless, the layers of sung and screamed vocals more multiplicitous, and the returning spaces of poignant ambience serving to gradually dial up the pathos as well as the more tangible force of the riffs, drumbeats, and roars. If the ascendant singing in the final act of “Silver Mask” lifts you up, wait until “Still the Night Skies,” and the cascading multitracking on “Mirrorings”. If “The Passing Hours” jolts you into attention with its final forcefulness, wait until the sudden savagery that closes “Ends” and then how the following songs stack this ardour with that singing, and the consistently gorgeous waves of clear and hazy melody.

Asymmetries’ power was not instantly obvious, but with every listen its grip grew tighter and the sky around it lost its colours as they were drawn into the void. Void of Light effectively communicate a dichotomy between light and shadow in their sad, uplifting, harsh, fragile debut. And if this is where they’re starting from, then heads, hearts, and score-safety-counters everywhere will need to watch out in the future.

Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

Does Void of Light refer to a source of luminescence, or is it shorthand for its total absence? The group might know something about the latter, hailing as they do from the northerly latitude of Glasgow, Scotland. Their musical medium—a sludgy, atmospheric post-metal—also reflects a dichotomous embodiment of light and dark: often crushingly heavy and thematically bleak, but also upliftingly melodic. Asymmetries—another nod to duality and imbalance—is a debut four years in the making, drawing together the fragments of brutality and reflective ambience from the preceding EPs into a bold statement on who Void of Light are. And decisive that statement certainly is.

Void of Light’s approach to post-metal is rich and dynamic, layering leaden riffing, melancholic melody, and flexible tempos around one another to augment the music’s ability to captivate. Strikingly, flatteringly akin to Deadly Carnage in the expert intermingling of delicacy and harshness (“Still the Night Skies”) and an ever-evolving rhythm, the album flows gracefully. Dips into The Ocean of steady, progressive builds, tangles with LLNN-levels of skull-bashing heaviness (“Mirrorings”), and even flirtation with black metal (“Ends,” “Mirrorings”) compliment a nuanced, emotional soundscape with heart and bite.

Asymmetries by Void of Light

The magnetism of Asymmetries is felt gradually and with progressive strength, like approaching a planet’s gravitational field. Things begin almost understatedly in “The Passing Hours,” with a loose, modulated melody and a steady onward crush that only hints at the depths to come. That is, before the final act gives the game away when soft singing gives way to a jubilant guitar solo over the rush of blackened percussion: a dramatic backdrop for the final reprise. These soaring, energetic guitar lines weave in and out across the record, communicating joy and bittersweet blueness as they variously dance (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and float (“The Passing Hours,” “Still the Night Skies”) over the comparative bluntness. Gentle (“The Passing Hours,” “Ends”) and impassioned (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”) cleans add still more layers of emotion as they move in pitch and volume with or in brilliant opposition to the instrumentation, and equally ardent screams (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies”). None of this would be half as stirring, however, were it not wrapped around the multidimensional rhythmic core that spills over from the percussion to riffs and vocals alike. Rippling fills and agile rolls thread texture upon which singing floats or screams rain down (“The Passing Hours,” “Mirrorings”). Frequent slides into snappy off-beats (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and impressively rich, cascading blackened tirades (“Ends,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”)—the kind you’d expect from Panopticon—intensify already incendiary peaks where aforementioned guitars dance or soar.

Asymmetries, as a name, can only be used complimentarily here; perhaps the worst that could be said is that the album might get even better as it progresses. If I had to be incredibly harsh, I would point to the oft-repeated pattern of songs lapsing midway into stripped-back plucking and singing before the reprise of heaviness. Even then, songs don’t sound the same, and the formula is an effective conduit for tension and emotion, formula though it may be. Really, though, Asymmetries feels ideally formed and structured to deliver the maximum impact as it is: the rhythms growing more fluid and restless, the layers of sung and screamed vocals more multiplicitous, and the returning spaces of poignant ambience serving to gradually dial up the pathos as well as the more tangible force of the riffs, drumbeats, and roars. If the ascendant singing in the final act of “Silver Mask” lifts you up, wait until “Still the Night Skies,” and the cascading multitracking on “Mirrorings”. If “The Passing Hours” jolts you into attention with its final forcefulness, wait until the sudden savagery that closes “Ends” and then how the following songs stack this ardour with that singing, and the consistently gorgeous waves of clear and hazy melody.

Asymmetries’ power was not instantly obvious, but with every listen its grip grew tighter and the sky around it lost its colours as they were drawn into the void. Void of Light effectively communicate a dichotomy between light and shadow in their sad, uplifting, harsh, fragile debut. And if this is where they’re starting from, then heads, hearts, and score-safety-counters everywhere will need to watch out in the future.

Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

Does Void of Light refer to a source of luminescence, or is it shorthand for its total absence? The group might know something about the latter, hailing as they do from the northerly latitude of Glasgow, Scotland. Their musical medium—a sludgy, atmospheric post-metal—also reflects a dichotomous embodiment of light and dark: often crushingly heavy and thematically bleak, but also upliftingly melodic. Asymmetries—another nod to duality and imbalance—is a debut four years in the making, drawing together the fragments of brutality and reflective ambience from the preceding EPs into a bold statement on who Void of Light are. And decisive that statement certainly is.

Void of Light’s approach to post-metal is rich and dynamic, layering leaden riffing, melancholic melody, and flexible tempos around one another to augment the music’s ability to captivate. Strikingly, flatteringly akin to Deadly Carnage in the expert intermingling of delicacy and harshness (“Still the Night Skies”) and an ever-evolving rhythm, the album flows gracefully. Dips into The Ocean of steady, progressive builds, tangles with LLNN-levels of skull-bashing heaviness (“Mirrorings”), and even flirtation with black metal (“Ends,” “Mirrorings”) compliment a nuanced, emotional soundscape with heart and bite.

Asymmetries by Void of Light

The magnetism of Asymmetries is felt gradually and with progressive strength, like approaching a planet’s gravitational field. Things begin almost understatedly in “The Passing Hours,” with a loose, modulated melody and a steady onward crush that only hints at the depths to come. That is, before the final act gives the game away when soft singing gives way to a jubilant guitar solo over the rush of blackened percussion: a dramatic backdrop for the final reprise. These soaring, energetic guitar lines weave in and out across the record, communicating joy and bittersweet blueness as they variously dance (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and float (“The Passing Hours,” “Still the Night Skies”) over the comparative bluntness. Gentle (“The Passing Hours,” “Ends”) and impassioned (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”) cleans add still more layers of emotion as they move in pitch and volume with or in brilliant opposition to the instrumentation, and equally ardent screams (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies”). None of this would be half as stirring, however, were it not wrapped around the multidimensional rhythmic core that spills over from the percussion to riffs and vocals alike. Rippling fills and agile rolls thread texture upon which singing floats or screams rain down (“The Passing Hours,” “Mirrorings”). Frequent slides into snappy off-beats (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and impressively rich, cascading blackened tirades (“Ends,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”)—the kind you’d expect from Panopticon—intensify already incendiary peaks where aforementioned guitars dance or soar.

Asymmetries, as a name, can only be used complimentarily here; perhaps the worst that could be said is that the album might get even better as it progresses. If I had to be incredibly harsh, I would point to the oft-repeated pattern of songs lapsing midway into stripped-back plucking and singing before the reprise of heaviness. Even then, songs don’t sound the same, and the formula is an effective conduit for tension and emotion, formula though it may be. Really, though, Asymmetries feels ideally formed and structured to deliver the maximum impact as it is: the rhythms growing more fluid and restless, the layers of sung and screamed vocals more multiplicitous, and the returning spaces of poignant ambience serving to gradually dial up the pathos as well as the more tangible force of the riffs, drumbeats, and roars. If the ascendant singing in the final act of “Silver Mask” lifts you up, wait until “Still the Night Skies,” and the cascading multitracking on “Mirrorings”. If “The Passing Hours” jolts you into attention with its final forcefulness, wait until the sudden savagery that closes “Ends” and then how the following songs stack this ardour with that singing, and the consistently gorgeous waves of clear and hazy melody.

Asymmetries’ power was not instantly obvious, but with every listen its grip grew tighter and the sky around it lost its colours as they were drawn into the void. Void of Light effectively communicate a dichotomy between light and shadow in their sad, uplifting, harsh, fragile debut. And if this is where they’re starting from, then heads, hearts, and score-safety-counters everywhere will need to watch out in the future.

Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

Does Void of Light refer to a source of luminescence, or is it shorthand for its total absence? The group might know something about the latter, hailing as they do from the northerly latitude of Glasgow, Scotland. Their musical medium—a sludgy, atmospheric post-metal—also reflects a dichotomous embodiment of light and dark: often crushingly heavy and thematically bleak, but also upliftingly melodic. Asymmetries—another nod to duality and imbalance—is a debut four years in the making, drawing together the fragments of brutality and reflective ambience from the preceding EPs into a bold statement on who Void of Light are. And decisive that statement certainly is.

Void of Light’s approach to post-metal is rich and dynamic, layering leaden riffing, melancholic melody, and flexible tempos around one another to augment the music’s ability to captivate. Strikingly, flatteringly akin to Deadly Carnage in the expert intermingling of delicacy and harshness (“Still the Night Skies”) and an ever-evolving rhythm, the album flows gracefully. Dips into The Ocean of steady, progressive builds, tangles with LLNN-levels of skull-bashing heaviness (“Mirrorings”), and even flirtation with black metal (“Ends,” “Mirrorings”) compliment a nuanced, emotional soundscape with heart and bite.

Asymmetries by Void of Light

The magnetism of Asymmetries is felt gradually and with progressive strength, like approaching a planet’s gravitational field. Things begin almost understatedly in “The Passing Hours,” with a loose, modulated melody and a steady onward crush that only hints at the depths to come. That is, before the final act gives the game away when soft singing gives way to a jubilant guitar solo over the rush of blackened percussion: a dramatic backdrop for the final reprise. These soaring, energetic guitar lines weave in and out across the record, communicating joy and bittersweet blueness as they variously dance (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and float (“The Passing Hours,” “Still the Night Skies”) over the comparative bluntness. Gentle (“The Passing Hours,” “Ends”) and impassioned (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”) cleans add still more layers of emotion as they move in pitch and volume with or in brilliant opposition to the instrumentation, and equally ardent screams (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies”). None of this would be half as stirring, however, were it not wrapped around the multidimensional rhythmic core that spills over from the percussion to riffs and vocals alike. Rippling fills and agile rolls thread texture upon which singing floats or screams rain down (“The Passing Hours,” “Mirrorings”). Frequent slides into snappy off-beats (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and impressively rich, cascading blackened tirades (“Ends,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”)—the kind you’d expect from Panopticon—intensify already incendiary peaks where aforementioned guitars dance or soar.

Asymmetries, as a name, can only be used complimentarily here; perhaps the worst that could be said is that the album might get even better as it progresses. If I had to be incredibly harsh, I would point to the oft-repeated pattern of songs lapsing midway into stripped-back plucking and singing before the reprise of heaviness. Even then, songs don’t sound the same, and the formula is an effective conduit for tension and emotion, formula though it may be. Really, though, Asymmetries feels ideally formed and structured to deliver the maximum impact as it is: the rhythms growing more fluid and restless, the layers of sung and screamed vocals more multiplicitous, and the returning spaces of poignant ambience serving to gradually dial up the pathos as well as the more tangible force of the riffs, drumbeats, and roars. If the ascendant singing in the final act of “Silver Mask” lifts you up, wait until “Still the Night Skies,” and the cascading multitracking on “Mirrorings”. If “The Passing Hours” jolts you into attention with its final forcefulness, wait until the sudden savagery that closes “Ends” and then how the following songs stack this ardour with that singing, and the consistently gorgeous waves of clear and hazy melody.

Asymmetries’ power was not instantly obvious, but with every listen its grip grew tighter and the sky around it lost its colours as they were drawn into the void. Void of Light effectively communicate a dichotomy between light and shadow in their sad, uplifting, harsh, fragile debut. And if this is where they’re starting from, then heads, hearts, and score-safety-counters everywhere will need to watch out in the future.

Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

#ThursDeath this week is new LP 'Infectious Pathological Waste' the almighty CRYPTWORM from Bristol, UK just released. The cover is gross/gory, so attached here is an image of the red vinyl that I have ordered and is on the way to me now. WHAT a record.

https://cryptworm.bandcamp.com/album/infectious-pathological-waste

Cryptworm are one of my favorite metal bands, and this is my AOTY for 2026 so far. Gonna be tough for something to beat it. Nasty, thick, killer production and riffs.

#metal #DeathMetal #Bristol #UKBands #UKMetal #Cryptworm #2026Albums #2026Records #riffs @HailsandAles @wendigo @guffo @rtw @swampgas @c0m4 @nnenov @AlfeeDee @pephorror @umrk @Kitty @flockofnazguls

UK disgusting death metal fiends Cryptworm have been quite prolific since 2022. Featuring members of Cryptic Shift and Rothadas, their Spewing Mephitic Putridity debut was a nauseating dose of raw sewagecore that made Autopsy seem hygienic by comparison. They followed that up barely a year later with Oozing Radioactive Vomition, and things felt a bit rushed and less impactful. They wisely took some time off thereafter, and now they return with third outing, Infectious Pathological Waste. While their overall approach hasn’t changed much from album to album, the quality of the writing has varied. This time, it feels like they put a bit more thought into the compositions, and some of the vile charm of the debut resurfaces through the slime and scuzz. Nothing does the heart good quite like seeing a happy Cryptworm!

Opener “Gallons of Molten Hominal Goo” greets you like a decaying old friend, and the gruesome, repulsive sounds contain the distinct aroma of early Carcass. This lump of excrement could have appeared on Symphonies of Sickness and fit like a maggot in a gunshot wound. The riffs are fairly rudimentary but have weight, and the vocals by Hanyi Tibor (Rothadas) are a cross between an industrial garbage disposal and a frat-house beer-belching contest. They are fucking disgusting, purulent, and utterly incomprehensible, but damn if they aren’t entertaining. “Maimed and Gutted” is a standout, going for a frantic thrashy panic attack with Cannibal Corpse-isms buried in the basement. It’s a road-grader of a brutal death song that veers into slam territory at times, and the riffs are greasy, sticky, and bellicose. My favorite macabre ditty is “Embedded with Parasitic Larvae,” where, intentionally or not, Tibor sounds like an undead version of the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. I cannot tell you why this enhances my enjoyment as much as it does, but fuck yes, Chef!

Infectious Pathological Waste by Cryptworm

On “Drowning in Purulent Excrementia,” they go extra slammy, and kitman Jamie Wintle starts to hit something that should be the pong snare, but it sounds like he’s beating on a skull or a femur. It’s weird, but I kinda like it, and it’s way better than that godawful PONG-PONG-PONG sound some tech and slam bands foist on you. Not every track is a sure-fire hit though, with “Gastrointestinal Seepage” feeling a bit too leaden and lethargic, though I appreciate Tibor’s extra nasty vocals where he seems to be coughing up a hairball full of razor blades and asbestos. I could complain that this feels like a very one-note album, but what death metal album isn’t really? At a tight 32 minutes, it goes by fast enough, though several tracks do have bloat issues that crimp enjoyment. The style Cryptworm opt to play necessitates keeping things in a 3-4 minute window, and when they push further, things get ropey and dopey.

Tibor does a tremendous, unpleasant job on vocals, sounding completely inhuman at all times. His unbelievably cartoonish subterranean croaks are a thing of hideous beauty, and I can’t get enough of them. His guitarwork is also to be applauded, borrowing the most objectionable bits of gristle from Autopsy, Cannibal Corpse, and Incantation to fuel the Cryptworm diet. Some of the leads are quite hooky, and I especially love the big beefy power chugs that dot the landscape. As on Oozing Radioactive Vomition, however, the songwriting can be inconsistent, and they don’t always know when enough is enough. There are some sick burners here to aggravate the savage altered beast, but a few tracks feel underbaked and deliver weaker tentacle slaps.

Cryptworm are a band I can’t help but root for as I root around in their repellant leavings, but I want them to be MOAR consistently deadly with their offal hammer. There’s plenty of fun stuff on Infectious Pathological Waste to marinate in, and it all reeks of the slaughterhouse. When it’s good, it’s rurl good. When it’s just okay, it’s still pretty fookin’ entertaining. Someday these chaps are gonna get their maggot larvae in a row and then, watch out! Until then, there are worse ways to kill brain cells than these odious odes to the grave.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo
Websites: cryptworm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cryptworm | instagram.com/cryptwormofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

UK disgusting death metal fiends Cryptworm have been quite prolific since 2022. Featuring members of Cryptic Shift and Rothadas, their Spewing Mephitic Putridity debut was a nauseating dose of raw sewagecore that made Autopsy seem hygienic by comparison. They followed that up barely a year later with Oozing Radioactive Vomition, and things felt a bit rushed and less impactful. They wisely took some time off thereafter, and now they return with third outing, Infectious Pathological Waste. While their overall approach hasn’t changed much from album to album, the quality of the writing has varied. This time, it feels like they put a bit more thought into the compositions, and some of the vile charm of the debut resurfaces through the slime and scuzz. Nothing does the heart good quite like seeing a happy Cryptworm!

Opener “Gallons of Molten Hominal Goo” greets you like a decaying old friend, and the gruesome, repulsive sounds contain the distinct aroma of early Carcass. This lump of excrement could have appeared on Symphonies of Sickness and fit like a maggot in a gunshot wound. The riffs are fairly rudimentary but have weight, and the vocals by Hanyi Tibor (Rothadas) are a cross between an industrial garbage disposal and a frat-house beer-belching contest. They are fucking disgusting, purulent, and utterly incomprehensible, but damn if they aren’t entertaining. “Maimed and Gutted” is a standout, going for a frantic thrashy panic attack with Cannibal Corpse-isms buried in the basement. It’s a road-grader of a brutal death song that veers into slam territory at times, and the riffs are greasy, sticky, and bellicose. My favorite macabre ditty is “Embedded with Parasitic Larvae,” where, intentionally or not, Tibor sounds like an undead version of the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. I cannot tell you why this enhances my enjoyment as much as it does, but fuck yes, Chef!

Infectious Pathological Waste by Cryptworm

On “Drowning in Purulent Excrementia,” they go extra slammy, and kitman Jamie Wintle starts to hit something that should be the pong snare, but it sounds like he’s beating on a skull or a femur. It’s weird, but I kinda like it, and it’s way better than that godawful PONG-PONG-PONG sound some tech and slam bands foist on you. Not every track is a sure-fire hit though, with “Gastrointestinal Seepage” feeling a bit too leaden and lethargic, though I appreciate Tibor’s extra nasty vocals where he seems to be coughing up a hairball full of razor blades and asbestos. I could complain that this feels like a very one-note album, but what death metal album isn’t really? At a tight 32 minutes, it goes by fast enough, though several tracks do have bloat issues that crimp enjoyment. The style Cryptworm opt to play necessitates keeping things in a 3-4 minute window, and when they push further, things get ropey and dopey.

Tibor does a tremendous, unpleasant job on vocals, sounding completely inhuman at all times. His unbelievably cartoonish subterranean croaks are a thing of hideous beauty, and I can’t get enough of them. His guitarwork is also to be applauded, borrowing the most objectionable bits of gristle from Autopsy, Cannibal Corpse, and Incantation to fuel the Cryptworm diet. Some of the leads are quite hooky, and I especially love the big beefy power chugs that dot the landscape. As on Oozing Radioactive Vomition, however, the songwriting can be inconsistent, and they don’t always know when enough is enough. There are some sick burners here to aggravate the savage altered beast, but a few tracks feel underbaked and deliver weaker tentacle slaps.

Cryptworm are a band I can’t help but root for as I root around in their repellant leavings, but I want them to be MOAR consistently deadly with their offal hammer. There’s plenty of fun stuff on Infectious Pathological Waste to marinate in, and it all reeks of the slaughterhouse. When it’s good, it’s rurl good. When it’s just okay, it’s still pretty fookin’ entertaining. Someday these chaps are gonna get their maggot larvae in a row and then, watch out! Until then, there are worse ways to kill brain cells than these odious odes to the grave.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo
Websites: cryptworm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cryptworm | instagram.com/cryptwormofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

UK disgusting death metal fiends Cryptworm have been quite prolific since 2022. Featuring members of Cryptic Shift and Rothadas, their Spewing Mephitic Putridity debut was a nauseating dose of raw sewagecore that made Autopsy seem hygienic by comparison. They followed that up barely a year later with Oozing Radioactive Vomition, and things felt a bit rushed and less impactful. They wisely took some time off thereafter, and now they return with third outing, Infectious Pathological Waste. While their overall approach hasn’t changed much from album to album, the quality of the writing has varied. This time, it feels like they put a bit more thought into the compositions, and some of the vile charm of the debut resurfaces through the slime and scuzz. Nothing does the heart good quite like seeing a happy Cryptworm!

Opener “Gallons of Molten Hominal Goo” greets you like a decaying old friend, and the gruesome, repulsive sounds contain the distinct aroma of early Carcass. This lump of excrement could have appeared on Symphonies of Sickness and fit like a maggot in a gunshot wound. The riffs are fairly rudimentary but have weight, and the vocals by Hanyi Tibor (Rothadas) are a cross between an industrial garbage disposal and a frat-house beer-belching contest. They are fucking disgusting, purulent, and utterly incomprehensible, but damn if they aren’t entertaining. “Maimed and Gutted” is a standout, going for a frantic thrashy panic attack with Cannibal Corpse-isms buried in the basement. It’s a road-grader of a brutal death song that veers into slam territory at times, and the riffs are greasy, sticky, and bellicose. My favorite macabre ditty is “Embedded with Parasitic Larvae,” where, intentionally or not, Tibor sounds like an undead version of the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. I cannot tell you why this enhances my enjoyment as much as it does, but fuck yes, Chef!

Infectious Pathological Waste by Cryptworm

On “Drowning in Purulent Excrementia,” they go extra slammy, and kitman Jamie Wintle starts to hit something that should be the pong snare, but it sounds like he’s beating on a skull or a femur. It’s weird, but I kinda like it, and it’s way better than that godawful PONG-PONG-PONG sound some tech and slam bands foist on you. Not every track is a sure-fire hit though, with “Gastrointestinal Seepage” feeling a bit too leaden and lethargic, though I appreciate Tibor’s extra nasty vocals where he seems to be coughing up a hairball full of razor blades and asbestos. I could complain that this feels like a very one-note album, but what death metal album isn’t really? At a tight 32 minutes, it goes by fast enough, though several tracks do have bloat issues that crimp enjoyment. The style Cryptworm opt to play necessitates keeping things in a 3-4 minute window, and when they push further, things get ropey and dopey.

Tibor does a tremendous, unpleasant job on vocals, sounding completely inhuman at all times. His unbelievably cartoonish subterranean croaks are a thing of hideous beauty, and I can’t get enough of them. His guitarwork is also to be applauded, borrowing the most objectionable bits of gristle from Autopsy, Cannibal Corpse, and Incantation to fuel the Cryptworm diet. Some of the leads are quite hooky, and I especially love the big beefy power chugs that dot the landscape. As on Oozing Radioactive Vomition, however, the songwriting can be inconsistent, and they don’t always know when enough is enough. There are some sick burners here to aggravate the savage altered beast, but a few tracks feel underbaked and deliver weaker tentacle slaps.

Cryptworm are a band I can’t help but root for as I root around in their repellant leavings, but I want them to be MOAR consistently deadly with their offal hammer. There’s plenty of fun stuff on Infectious Pathological Waste to marinate in, and it all reeks of the slaughterhouse. When it’s good, it’s rurl good. When it’s just okay, it’s still pretty fookin’ entertaining. Someday these chaps are gonna get their maggot larvae in a row and then, watch out! Until then, there are worse ways to kill brain cells than these odious odes to the grave.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo
Websites: cryptworm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cryptworm | instagram.com/cryptwormofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

UK disgusting death metal fiends Cryptworm have been quite prolific since 2022. Featuring members of Cryptic Shift and Rothadas, their Spewing Mephitic Putridity debut was a nauseating dose of raw sewagecore that made Autopsy seem hygienic by comparison. They followed that up barely a year later with Oozing Radioactive Vomition, and things felt a bit rushed and less impactful. They wisely took some time off thereafter, and now they return with third outing, Infectious Pathological Waste. While their overall approach hasn’t changed much from album to album, the quality of the writing has varied. This time, it feels like they put a bit more thought into the compositions, and some of the vile charm of the debut resurfaces through the slime and scuzz. Nothing does the heart good quite like seeing a happy Cryptworm!

Opener “Gallons of Molten Hominal Goo” greets you like a decaying old friend, and the gruesome, repulsive sounds contain the distinct aroma of early Carcass. This lump of excrement could have appeared on Symphonies of Sickness and fit like a maggot in a gunshot wound. The riffs are fairly rudimentary but have weight, and the vocals by Hanyi Tibor (Rothadas) are a cross between an industrial garbage disposal and a frat-house beer-belching contest. They are fucking disgusting, purulent, and utterly incomprehensible, but damn if they aren’t entertaining. “Maimed and Gutted” is a standout, going for a frantic thrashy panic attack with Cannibal Corpse-isms buried in the basement. It’s a road-grader of a brutal death song that veers into slam territory at times, and the riffs are greasy, sticky, and bellicose. My favorite macabre ditty is “Embedded with Parasitic Larvae,” where, intentionally or not, Tibor sounds like an undead version of the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. I cannot tell you why this enhances my enjoyment as much as it does, but fuck yes, Chef!

Infectious Pathological Waste by Cryptworm

On “Drowning in Purulent Excrementia,” they go extra slammy, and kitman Jamie Wintle starts to hit something that should be the pong snare, but it sounds like he’s beating on a skull or a femur. It’s weird, but I kinda like it, and it’s way better than that godawful PONG-PONG-PONG sound some tech and slam bands foist on you. Not every track is a sure-fire hit though, with “Gastrointestinal Seepage” feeling a bit too leaden and lethargic, though I appreciate Tibor’s extra nasty vocals where he seems to be coughing up a hairball full of razor blades and asbestos. I could complain that this feels like a very one-note album, but what death metal album isn’t really? At a tight 32 minutes, it goes by fast enough, though several tracks do have bloat issues that crimp enjoyment. The style Cryptworm opt to play necessitates keeping things in a 3-4 minute window, and when they push further, things get ropey and dopey.

Tibor does a tremendous, unpleasant job on vocals, sounding completely inhuman at all times. His unbelievably cartoonish subterranean croaks are a thing of hideous beauty, and I can’t get enough of them. His guitarwork is also to be applauded, borrowing the most objectionable bits of gristle from Autopsy, Cannibal Corpse, and Incantation to fuel the Cryptworm diet. Some of the leads are quite hooky, and I especially love the big beefy power chugs that dot the landscape. As on Oozing Radioactive Vomition, however, the songwriting can be inconsistent, and they don’t always know when enough is enough. There are some sick burners here to aggravate the savage altered beast, but a few tracks feel underbaked and deliver weaker tentacle slaps.

Cryptworm are a band I can’t help but root for as I root around in their repellant leavings, but I want them to be MOAR consistently deadly with their offal hammer. There’s plenty of fun stuff on Infectious Pathological Waste to marinate in, and it all reeks of the slaughterhouse. When it’s good, it’s rurl good. When it’s just okay, it’s still pretty fookin’ entertaining. Someday these chaps are gonna get their maggot larvae in a row and then, watch out! Until then, there are worse ways to kill brain cells than these odious odes to the grave.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo
Websites: cryptworm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cryptworm | instagram.com/cryptwormofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

UK disgusting death metal fiends Cryptworm have been quite prolific since 2022. Featuring members of Cryptic Shift and Rothadas, their Spewing Mephitic Putridity debut was a nauseating dose of raw sewagecore that made Autopsy seem hygienic by comparison. They followed that up barely a year later with Oozing Radioactive Vomition, and things felt a bit rushed and less impactful. They wisely took some time off thereafter, and now they return with third outing, Infectious Pathological Waste. While their overall approach hasn’t changed much from album to album, the quality of the writing has varied. This time, it feels like they put a bit more thought into the compositions, and some of the vile charm of the debut resurfaces through the slime and scuzz. Nothing does the heart good quite like seeing a happy Cryptworm!

Opener “Gallons of Molten Hominal Goo” greets you like a decaying old friend, and the gruesome, repulsive sounds contain the distinct aroma of early Carcass. This lump of excrement could have appeared on Symphonies of Sickness and fit like a maggot in a gunshot wound. The riffs are fairly rudimentary but have weight, and the vocals by Hanyi Tibor (Rothadas) are a cross between an industrial garbage disposal and a frat-house beer-belching contest. They are fucking disgusting, purulent, and utterly incomprehensible, but damn if they aren’t entertaining. “Maimed and Gutted” is a standout, going for a frantic thrashy panic attack with Cannibal Corpse-isms buried in the basement. It’s a road-grader of a brutal death song that veers into slam territory at times, and the riffs are greasy, sticky, and bellicose. My favorite macabre ditty is “Embedded with Parasitic Larvae,” where, intentionally or not, Tibor sounds like an undead version of the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. I cannot tell you why this enhances my enjoyment as much as it does, but fuck yes, Chef!

Infectious Pathological Waste by Cryptworm

On “Drowning in Purulent Excrementia,” they go extra slammy, and kitman Jamie Wintle starts to hit something that should be the pong snare, but it sounds like he’s beating on a skull or a femur. It’s weird, but I kinda like it, and it’s way better than that godawful PONG-PONG-PONG sound some tech and slam bands foist on you. Not every track is a sure-fire hit though, with “Gastrointestinal Seepage” feeling a bit too leaden and lethargic, though I appreciate Tibor’s extra nasty vocals where he seems to be coughing up a hairball full of razor blades and asbestos. I could complain that this feels like a very one-note album, but what death metal album isn’t really? At a tight 32 minutes, it goes by fast enough, though several tracks do have bloat issues that crimp enjoyment. The style Cryptworm opt to play necessitates keeping things in a 3-4 minute window, and when they push further, things get ropey and dopey.

Tibor does a tremendous, unpleasant job on vocals, sounding completely inhuman at all times. His unbelievably cartoonish subterranean croaks are a thing of hideous beauty, and I can’t get enough of them. His guitarwork is also to be applauded, borrowing the most objectionable bits of gristle from Autopsy, Cannibal Corpse, and Incantation to fuel the Cryptworm diet. Some of the leads are quite hooky, and I especially love the big beefy power chugs that dot the landscape. As on Oozing Radioactive Vomition, however, the songwriting can be inconsistent, and they don’t always know when enough is enough. There are some sick burners here to aggravate the savage altered beast, but a few tracks feel underbaked and deliver weaker tentacle slaps.

Cryptworm are a band I can’t help but root for as I root around in their repellant leavings, but I want them to be MOAR consistently deadly with their offal hammer. There’s plenty of fun stuff on Infectious Pathological Waste to marinate in, and it all reeks of the slaughterhouse. When it’s good, it’s rurl good. When it’s just okay, it’s still pretty fookin’ entertaining. Someday these chaps are gonna get their maggot larvae in a row and then, watch out! Until then, there are worse ways to kill brain cells than these odious odes to the grave.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo
Websites: cryptworm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cryptworm | instagram.com/cryptwormofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Aggressive Perfector – Come Creeping Fiends Review

In 2019, English retro metal maniacs Aggressive Perfector came out of nowhere to blindside me with a nasty…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.5 #AggressivePerfector #ComeCreepingFiends #deceased #Desaster #DyingVictimsProductions #Entertainment #HavocattheMidnightHour #HeavyMetal #Mar26 #MercyfulFate #Motörhead #review #reviews #UKMetal #Venom
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/547241/

Aggressive Perfector – Come Creeping Fiends Review

In 2019, English retro metal maniacs Aggressive Perfector came out of nowhere to blindside me with a nasty…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.5 #AggressivePerfector #ComeCreepingFiends #deceased #Desaster #DyingVictimsProductions #Entertainment #HavocattheMidnightHour #HeavyMetal #Mar26 #MercyfulFate #Motörhead #review #reviews #UKMetal #Venom
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/547241/

https://www.europesays.com/uk/852402/ Aggressive Perfector – Come Creeping Fiends Review #2026 #35 #AggressivePerfector #ComeCreepingFiends #deceased #Desaster #DyingVictimsProductions #Entertainment #HavocAtTheMidnightHour #HeavyMetal #Mar26 #MercyfulFate #Motörhead #music #Review #Reviews #UK #UKMetal #UnitedKingdom #venom

In 2019, English retro metal maniacs Aggressive Perfector came out of nowhere to blindside me with a nasty mash-up of classic 80s metal, speed, and quasi-blackened evil called Havoc at the Midnight Hour. It was an endearing nostalgia ride through the early days of extreme metal, stealing body parts from Venom, Mercyful Fate, and beef-brained thrashers like Rigor Mortis and Nasty Savage. It was rough around every single edge, but it packed the same kind of past-obsessed punch as Deceased and made me love it. It took these sonic miscreants some time to get back in the marketplace with new material, but Come Creeping Fiends promises to have everything from the debut turned up to 12.5 and then some. And in this, they aren’t fibbing. This is another slab of over-the-top excess in the name of unholy overkill, and it sounds like a bunch of local bar bands covering Venom’s early material after too many shots of Jägermeister. That’s a good thing, right? RIGHT??

If you like your metal loud, unhinged, but oddly melodic and catchy, you came to the right Satanic mass. Opener “Dead Undead” is a wild and woolly smush of Venom and early Mercyful Fate with some Desaster crammed in to see if the mixture explodes. It does. This thing is hairier than Yours Steely with a full midvinter pelt, and just as fragrant. It’s not far from the usual Deceased output, and frontman Dan Chainsaw (formerly Dan Holocausto) sounds a whole lot like the legendary King Fowley as he roars, rages, and retches against the dying of the light (and the closure of the All-You-Can-Eat $8 buffet at King Egg Dynasty Kitchen). His vocal excess is excessive, and it’s laid on top of a weird collection of traditional, thrash, and NWoBHM guitar segments without much thought given to how well it fits or doesn’t. You go from a Sodom or Desaster riff one minute to something from Motörhead’s Another Perfect Day era, and though this hodge-podge recipe seems ill-advised, it works, and the song is stupid, brainless fun. “Strange Companion” sounds like a lost hit from Deceased, and I loved it the moment it assaulted my ear sockets. It’s bombastic but melodic and memorable, though you should never try to sing along with it in public, ever. “Fiend in You” keeps the strange times rolling with a number that’s hooky and hard rocking but extremely confrontational vocally. It reminds me of the days I worked for my older brother doing construction during summers in High School, and basically just got screamed at for 10 hours a day. I like it anyway, though!

“Obscene Cult” robs Candlemass blind of the riff from “Bewitched” and repurposes it for much nastier deeds done way cheaper than dirt. You won’t be able to unhear “Bewitched,” so it sounds like some absolute nutter is screaming over the song about Satanic masses and corpse defilement. “Harlot’s Curse” is the most ambitious track in that it dumps the most 80s influences into the smoothie machine, hoping for a new taste sensation. You’ll hear about 20 bands you know by heart in the riffing and song structure, but somehow it all coagulates into a functional song of its own. Penultimate cut “Return of the Axe” deserves special praise as the most frenzied and unstable track, thrashing and bashing for all its worth. It’s a silly but captivating piece of caveman metal, and I can’t help but want to adopt and raise it as my offspring. At a tight, no-blubber-allowed 30 minutes, Come Creeping Fiends rip rides over you like a nitro-fueled earthmover. You will be flattened, and you will enjoy it.

Aggressive Perfector make a lunatic racket, and the best parts come from the guitarwork by Dan Chainsaw and drummer/guitarist/keyboardist, Intimidator. These goons are like a living codex of 80s metal riffs and harmonies, and they regurgitate the olden sounds in strange new patterns to craft wildly entertaining tunes. The thrash leads are nice, but it’s the classic metal lines that really shake my lizard brain. Every track has at least one riff that activates my inner teenage idiot, and I appreciate that. Vocally, Dan Chainsaw goes all in, getting himself committed to the nervous hospital with his insane screams, rasps, roars, and unusual attempts at “singing.” Medically speaking, the dude has some screws loose in his tonsils, but wow, is it fun to hear him come unglued.

Come Creeping Fiends takes the chassis of the debut and welds spikes, spears, and buzzsaw blades all over it. It will harm all who listen, but in productive, character-building ways. If you have non-metal-loving friends, trap them in an enclosed space and force this on them loudly as you watch their panic and terror. This is what is best in life! Let these creeping fiends in and see how it goes.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims
Websites: aggressiveperfector.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/aggressiveperfectorband | instagram.com/aggressiveperfector
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

In 2019, English retro metal maniacs Aggressive Perfector came out of nowhere to blindside me with a nasty mash-up of classic 80s metal, speed, and quasi-blackened evil called Havoc at the Midnight Hour. It was an endearing nostalgia ride through the early days of extreme metal, stealing body parts from Venom, Mercyful Fate, and beef-brained thrashers like Rigor Mortis and Nasty Savage. It was rough around every single edge, but it packed the same kind of past-obsessed punch as Deceased and made me love it. It took these sonic miscreants some time to get back in the marketplace with new material, but Come Creeping Fiends promises to have everything from the debut turned up to 12.5 and then some. And in this, they aren’t fibbing. This is another slab of over-the-top excess in the name of unholy overkill, and it sounds like a bunch of local bar bands covering Venom’s early material after too many shots of Jägermeister. That’s a good thing, right? RIGHT??

If you like your metal loud, unhinged, but oddly melodic and catchy, you came to the right Satanic mass. Opener “Dead Undead” is a wild and woolly smush of Venom and early Mercyful Fate with some Desaster crammed in to see if the mixture explodes. It does. This thing is hairier than Yours Steely with a full midvinter pelt, and just as fragrant. It’s not far from the usual Deceased output, and frontman Dan Chainsaw (formerly Dan Holocausto) sounds a whole lot like the legendary King Fowley as he roars, rages, and retches against the dying of the light (and the closure of the All-You-Can-Eat $8 buffet at King Egg Dynasty Kitchen). His vocal excess is excessive, and it’s laid on top of a weird collection of traditional, thrash, and NWoBHM guitar segments without much thought given to how well it fits or doesn’t. You go from a Sodom or Desaster riff one minute to something from Motörhead’s Another Perfect Day era, and though this hodge-podge recipe seems ill-advised, it works, and the song is stupid, brainless fun. “Strange Companion” sounds like a lost hit from Deceased, and I loved it the moment it assaulted my ear sockets. It’s bombastic but melodic and memorable, though you should never try to sing along with it in public, ever. “Fiend in You” keeps the strange times rolling with a number that’s hooky and hard rocking but extremely confrontational vocally. It reminds me of the days I worked for my older brother doing construction during summers in High School, and basically just got screamed at for 10 hours a day. I like it anyway, though!

“Obscene Cult” robs Candlemass blind of the riff from “Bewitched” and repurposes it for much nastier deeds done way cheaper than dirt. You won’t be able to unhear “Bewitched,” so it sounds like some absolute nutter is screaming over the song about Satanic masses and corpse defilement. “Harlot’s Curse” is the most ambitious track in that it dumps the most 80s influences into the smoothie machine, hoping for a new taste sensation. You’ll hear about 20 bands you know by heart in the riffing and song structure, but somehow it all coagulates into a functional song of its own. Penultimate cut “Return of the Axe” deserves special praise as the most frenzied and unstable track, thrashing and bashing for all its worth. It’s a silly but captivating piece of caveman metal, and I can’t help but want to adopt and raise it as my offspring. At a tight, no-blubber-allowed 30 minutes, Come Creeping Fiends rip rides over you like a nitro-fueled earthmover. You will be flattened, and you will enjoy it.

Aggressive Perfector make a lunatic racket, and the best parts come from the guitarwork by Dan Chainsaw and drummer/guitarist/keyboardist, Intimidator. These goons are like a living codex of 80s metal riffs and harmonies, and they regurgitate the olden sounds in strange new patterns to craft wildly entertaining tunes. The thrash leads are nice, but it’s the classic metal lines that really shake my lizard brain. Every track has at least one riff that activates my inner teenage idiot, and I appreciate that. Vocally, Dan Chainsaw goes all in, getting himself committed to the nervous hospital with his insane screams, rasps, roars, and unusual attempts at “singing.” Medically speaking, the dude has some screws loose in his tonsils, but wow, is it fun to hear him come unglued.

Come Creeping Fiends takes the chassis of the debut and welds spikes, spears, and buzzsaw blades all over it. It will harm all who listen, but in productive, character-building ways. If you have non-metal-loving friends, trap them in an enclosed space and force this on them loudly as you watch their panic and terror. This is what is best in life! Let these creeping fiends in and see how it goes.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims
Websites: aggressiveperfector.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/aggressiveperfectorband | instagram.com/aggressiveperfector
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

In 2019, English retro metal maniacs Aggressive Perfector came out of nowhere to blindside me with a nasty mash-up of classic 80s metal, speed, and quasi-blackened evil called Havoc at the Midnight Hour. It was an endearing nostalgia ride through the early days of extreme metal, stealing body parts from Venom, Mercyful Fate, and beef-brained thrashers like Rigor Mortis and Nasty Savage. It was rough around every single edge, but it packed the same kind of past-obsessed punch as Deceased and made me love it. It took these sonic miscreants some time to get back in the marketplace with new material, but Come Creeping Fiends promises to have everything from the debut turned up to 12.5 and then some. And in this, they aren’t fibbing. This is another slab of over-the-top excess in the name of unholy overkill, and it sounds like a bunch of local bar bands covering Venom’s early material after too many shots of Jägermeister. That’s a good thing, right? RIGHT??

If you like your metal loud, unhinged, but oddly melodic and catchy, you came to the right Satanic mass. Opener “Dead Undead” is a wild and woolly smush of Venom and early Mercyful Fate with some Desaster crammed in to see if the mixture explodes. It does. This thing is hairier than Yours Steely with a full midvinter pelt, and just as fragrant. It’s not far from the usual Deceased output, and frontman Dan Chainsaw (formerly Dan Holocausto) sounds a whole lot like the legendary King Fowley as he roars, rages, and retches against the dying of the light (and the closure of the All-You-Can-Eat $8 buffet at King Egg Dynasty Kitchen). His vocal excess is excessive, and it’s laid on top of a weird collection of traditional, thrash, and NWoBHM guitar segments without much thought given to how well it fits or doesn’t. You go from a Sodom or Desaster riff one minute to something from Motörhead’s Another Perfect Day era, and though this hodge-podge recipe seems ill-advised, it works, and the song is stupid, brainless fun. “Strange Companion” sounds like a lost hit from Deceased, and I loved it the moment it assaulted my ear sockets. It’s bombastic but melodic and memorable, though you should never try to sing along with it in public, ever. “Fiend in You” keeps the strange times rolling with a number that’s hooky and hard rocking but extremely confrontational vocally. It reminds me of the days I worked for my older brother doing construction during summers in High School, and basically just got screamed at for 10 hours a day. I like it anyway, though!

“Obscene Cult” robs Candlemass blind of the riff from “Bewitched” and repurposes it for much nastier deeds done way cheaper than dirt. You won’t be able to unhear “Bewitched,” so it sounds like some absolute nutter is screaming over the song about Satanic masses and corpse defilement. “Harlot’s Curse” is the most ambitious track in that it dumps the most 80s influences into the smoothie machine, hoping for a new taste sensation. You’ll hear about 20 bands you know by heart in the riffing and song structure, but somehow it all coagulates into a functional song of its own. Penultimate cut “Return of the Axe” deserves special praise as the most frenzied and unstable track, thrashing and bashing for all its worth. It’s a silly but captivating piece of caveman metal, and I can’t help but want to adopt and raise it as my offspring. At a tight, no-blubber-allowed 30 minutes, Come Creeping Fiends rip rides over you like a nitro-fueled earthmover. You will be flattened, and you will enjoy it.

Aggressive Perfector make a lunatic racket, and the best parts come from the guitarwork by Dan Chainsaw and drummer/guitarist/keyboardist, Intimidator. These goons are like a living codex of 80s metal riffs and harmonies, and they regurgitate the olden sounds in strange new patterns to craft wildly entertaining tunes. The thrash leads are nice, but it’s the classic metal lines that really shake my lizard brain. Every track has at least one riff that activates my inner teenage idiot, and I appreciate that. Vocally, Dan Chainsaw goes all in, getting himself committed to the nervous hospital with his insane screams, rasps, roars, and unusual attempts at “singing.” Medically speaking, the dude has some screws loose in his tonsils, but wow, is it fun to hear him come unglued.

Come Creeping Fiends takes the chassis of the debut and welds spikes, spears, and buzzsaw blades all over it. It will harm all who listen, but in productive, character-building ways. If you have non-metal-loving friends, trap them in an enclosed space and force this on them loudly as you watch their panic and terror. This is what is best in life! Let these creeping fiends in and see how it goes.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims
Websites: aggressiveperfector.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/aggressiveperfectorband | instagram.com/aggressiveperfector
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

In 2019, English retro metal maniacs Aggressive Perfector came out of nowhere to blindside me with a nasty mash-up of classic 80s metal, speed, and quasi-blackened evil called Havoc at the Midnight Hour. It was an endearing nostalgia ride through the early days of extreme metal, stealing body parts from Venom, Mercyful Fate, and beef-brained thrashers like Rigor Mortis and Nasty Savage. It was rough around every single edge, but it packed the same kind of past-obsessed punch as Deceased and made me love it. It took these sonic miscreants some time to get back in the marketplace with new material, but Come Creeping Fiends promises to have everything from the debut turned up to 12.5 and then some. And in this, they aren’t fibbing. This is another slab of over-the-top excess in the name of unholy overkill, and it sounds like a bunch of local bar bands covering Venom’s early material after too many shots of Jägermeister. That’s a good thing, right? RIGHT??

If you like your metal loud, unhinged, but oddly melodic and catchy, you came to the right Satanic mass. Opener “Dead Undead” is a wild and woolly smush of Venom and early Mercyful Fate with some Desaster crammed in to see if the mixture explodes. It does. This thing is hairier than Yours Steely with a full midvinter pelt, and just as fragrant. It’s not far from the usual Deceased output, and frontman Dan Chainsaw (formerly Dan Holocausto) sounds a whole lot like the legendary King Fowley as he roars, rages, and retches against the dying of the light (and the closure of the All-You-Can-Eat $8 buffet at King Egg Dynasty Kitchen). His vocal excess is excessive, and it’s laid on top of a weird collection of traditional, thrash, and NWoBHM guitar segments without much thought given to how well it fits or doesn’t. You go from a Sodom or Desaster riff one minute to something from Motörhead’s Another Perfect Day era, and though this hodge-podge recipe seems ill-advised, it works, and the song is stupid, brainless fun. “Strange Companion” sounds like a lost hit from Deceased, and I loved it the moment it assaulted my ear sockets. It’s bombastic but melodic and memorable, though you should never try to sing along with it in public, ever. “Fiend in You” keeps the strange times rolling with a number that’s hooky and hard rocking but extremely confrontational vocally. It reminds me of the days I worked for my older brother doing construction during summers in High School, and basically just got screamed at for 10 hours a day. I like it anyway, though!

“Obscene Cult” robs Candlemass blind of the riff from “Bewitched” and repurposes it for much nastier deeds done way cheaper than dirt. You won’t be able to unhear “Bewitched,” so it sounds like some absolute nutter is screaming over the song about Satanic masses and corpse defilement. “Harlot’s Curse” is the most ambitious track in that it dumps the most 80s influences into the smoothie machine, hoping for a new taste sensation. You’ll hear about 20 bands you know by heart in the riffing and song structure, but somehow it all coagulates into a functional song of its own. Penultimate cut “Return of the Axe” deserves special praise as the most frenzied and unstable track, thrashing and bashing for all its worth. It’s a silly but captivating piece of caveman metal, and I can’t help but want to adopt and raise it as my offspring. At a tight, no-blubber-allowed 30 minutes, Come Creeping Fiends rip rides over you like a nitro-fueled earthmover. You will be flattened, and you will enjoy it.

Aggressive Perfector make a lunatic racket, and the best parts come from the guitarwork by Dan Chainsaw and drummer/guitarist/keyboardist, Intimidator. These goons are like a living codex of 80s metal riffs and harmonies, and they regurgitate the olden sounds in strange new patterns to craft wildly entertaining tunes. The thrash leads are nice, but it’s the classic metal lines that really shake my lizard brain. Every track has at least one riff that activates my inner teenage idiot, and I appreciate that. Vocally, Dan Chainsaw goes all in, getting himself committed to the nervous hospital with his insane screams, rasps, roars, and unusual attempts at “singing.” Medically speaking, the dude has some screws loose in his tonsils, but wow, is it fun to hear him come unglued.

Come Creeping Fiends takes the chassis of the debut and welds spikes, spears, and buzzsaw blades all over it. It will harm all who listen, but in productive, character-building ways. If you have non-metal-loving friends, trap them in an enclosed space and force this on them loudly as you watch their panic and terror. This is what is best in life! Let these creeping fiends in and see how it goes.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims
Websites: aggressiveperfector.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/aggressiveperfectorband | instagram.com/aggressiveperfector
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

In 2019, English retro metal maniacs Aggressive Perfector came out of nowhere to blindside me with a nasty mash-up of classic 80s metal, speed, and quasi-blackened evil called Havoc at the Midnight Hour. It was an endearing nostalgia ride through the early days of extreme metal, stealing body parts from Venom, Mercyful Fate, and beef-brained thrashers like Rigor Mortis and Nasty Savage. It was rough around every single edge, but it packed the same kind of past-obsessed punch as Deceased and made me love it. It took these sonic miscreants some time to get back in the marketplace with new material, but Come Creeping Fiends promises to have everything from the debut turned up to 12.5 and then some. And in this, they aren’t fibbing. This is another slab of over-the-top excess in the name of unholy overkill, and it sounds like a bunch of local bar bands covering Venom’s early material after too many shots of Jägermeister. That’s a good thing, right? RIGHT??

If you like your metal loud, unhinged, but oddly melodic and catchy, you came to the right Satanic mass. Opener “Dead Undead” is a wild and woolly smush of Venom and early Mercyful Fate with some Desaster crammed in to see if the mixture explodes. It does. This thing is hairier than Yours Steely with a full midvinter pelt, and just as fragrant. It’s not far from the usual Deceased output, and frontman Dan Chainsaw (formerly Dan Holocausto) sounds a whole lot like the legendary King Fowley as he roars, rages, and retches against the dying of the light (and the closure of the All-You-Can-Eat $8 buffet at King Egg Dynasty Kitchen). His vocal excess is excessive, and it’s laid on top of a weird collection of traditional, thrash, and NWoBHM guitar segments without much thought given to how well it fits or doesn’t. You go from a Sodom or Desaster riff one minute to something from Motörhead’s Another Perfect Day era, and though this hodge-podge recipe seems ill-advised, it works, and the song is stupid, brainless fun. “Strange Companion” sounds like a lost hit from Deceased, and I loved it the moment it assaulted my ear sockets. It’s bombastic but melodic and memorable, though you should never try to sing along with it in public, ever. “Fiend in You” keeps the strange times rolling with a number that’s hooky and hard rocking but extremely confrontational vocally. It reminds me of the days I worked for my older brother doing construction during summers in High School, and basically just got screamed at for 10 hours a day. I like it anyway, though!

“Obscene Cult” robs Candlemass blind of the riff from “Bewitched” and repurposes it for much nastier deeds done way cheaper than dirt. You won’t be able to unhear “Bewitched,” so it sounds like some absolute nutter is screaming over the song about Satanic masses and corpse defilement. “Harlot’s Curse” is the most ambitious track in that it dumps the most 80s influences into the smoothie machine, hoping for a new taste sensation. You’ll hear about 20 bands you know by heart in the riffing and song structure, but somehow it all coagulates into a functional song of its own. Penultimate cut “Return of the Axe” deserves special praise as the most frenzied and unstable track, thrashing and bashing for all its worth. It’s a silly but captivating piece of caveman metal, and I can’t help but want to adopt and raise it as my offspring. At a tight, no-blubber-allowed 30 minutes, Come Creeping Fiends rip rides over you like a nitro-fueled earthmover. You will be flattened, and you will enjoy it.

Aggressive Perfector make a lunatic racket, and the best parts come from the guitarwork by Dan Chainsaw and drummer/guitarist/keyboardist, Intimidator. These goons are like a living codex of 80s metal riffs and harmonies, and they regurgitate the olden sounds in strange new patterns to craft wildly entertaining tunes. The thrash leads are nice, but it’s the classic metal lines that really shake my lizard brain. Every track has at least one riff that activates my inner teenage idiot, and I appreciate that. Vocally, Dan Chainsaw goes all in, getting himself committed to the nervous hospital with his insane screams, rasps, roars, and unusual attempts at “singing.” Medically speaking, the dude has some screws loose in his tonsils, but wow, is it fun to hear him come unglued.

Come Creeping Fiends takes the chassis of the debut and welds spikes, spears, and buzzsaw blades all over it. It will harm all who listen, but in productive, character-building ways. If you have non-metal-loving friends, trap them in an enclosed space and force this on them loudly as you watch their panic and terror. This is what is best in life! Let these creeping fiends in and see how it goes.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims
Websites: aggressiveperfector.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/aggressiveperfectorband | instagram.com/aggressiveperfector
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?

State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.

My Armor by Unmother

State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.

Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.

Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?

State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.

My Armor by Unmother

State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.

Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.

Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?

State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.

My Armor by Unmother

State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.

Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.

Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?

State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.

My Armor by Unmother

State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.

Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.

Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

In case you’re unfamiliar, The Epic of Gilgamesh is an ancient Mesopotamian poetic narrative, whose first complete form is dated to approximately 1800 BCE. It follows a story of King Gilgamesh and his dealings with gods and other mythic monsters, culminating in a journey for the secret of immortality.1 What better way could there be to consume this rich, literary epic than have it interpreted by the collection of artists behind From the Waters of Death? Obscure black/doom duo Swords of Dis; death metal veteran and experimenter Serpent Ascending; Neptunian Maximalism’s darker, heavier incarnation Ôros Kaù; and ambient-black dreamer Midnight Odyssey. All are infamous—if you know who they are—for their strange, unconventional styles and love for long-form expression that borders on the self-indulgent, which may make them ideally suited to a Gilgamesh retelling. You may already be experiencing a sinking feeling of dread at those name-drops. But together these artists achieve something that exceeded my expectations even as it met them squarely.

While appearing to be a split, Waters is more of a collaboration as each individual contributes vocal or instrumental talents across multiple songs, including on those they wrote and take the lead in themselves. Spearheading the whole thing are Richard and Alice Corvinus of Swords of Dis, who have a hand in all lyrics and appear on every track. These lyrics, inspired by the words of the epic itself, consist of narration interspersed with dialogue between the various characters, and the five musicians rotate and share roles depending on who is involved in the corresponding part of the story. 2 This improves the album’s internal coherence—which might otherwise be hindered in a split format—whilst also allowing each movement to take on the personality of its lead artist. As a form of adaptation, the five tracks of reverb-filled, noisy, strange, melodramatically or demoniacally vocally-led, black-adjacent fringe metal lean into the grand, frightening side to the tale whose gravity us modern-age folk probably can’t appreciate properly. And it’s that excessive, almost absurd commitment to being different, which—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—actually works.

From The Waters Of Death by SWORDS OF DIS

Drama is at the heart of oral poetic tradition, and it’s Waters’ drama that similarly grounds its best aspects. Utmost credit goes to Alice Corvinus and her fierce (“From Egalmah They Rode…”3, operatic (“Araru Births the Lord of the Wilderness,” “From Egalmah…,” “Blood Stains The Altar…”4), sometimes eerie (“Into the Wailing Darkness”5) vocal performance. Her presence dominates as she provides some narration in addition to voicing every female character (and there are a lot of goddesses involved). Dark, minor tremolo refrains and Middle-Eastern-inspired melodies support her delivery, and the theatrical, flowing style Swords of Dis employ lends itself to this expression perfectly. In a different vein, the inhumanly gurgling snarls of Guillaume Cazalet (Ôros Kaù) make for a barbed contrast to otherwise vague, even beautiful, passages (“Blood…”), and can be genuinely frightening (“Into The Wailing Darkness”). All vocals—clean or harsh—are odd to a degree, sometimes even off-putting (“Araru…”). Yet most breaches of the cringe line are brief, and ameliorated by interesting instrumentation (“Blood…,” “From the Setting…”6). Those totally averse to what we anaemically refer to as ‘avant-garde’ in extreme metal can beg to differ, but the back and forth between dissonance and harmony (“Araru…,” “Blood…”), and between uncomfortable slowness and sudden speed (“From the Setting…”), is not only well-performed, it makes sense for the record’s narrative concept. A journey represented through a monotonous pattern (“From Egalmah…,” “From the Setting…”), the fury of a deity by means of an operatic surge (“From Egalmah…”).

Waters embodies the manner of epic poetry so well, however, that its digestibility is harmed as well as helped. Whether appropriate or not, its near-90-minute runtime makes engaging with its entirety a daunting prospect, and this is a record that fares best when you do give it the time and space to immerse you.7 The very aptness of the compositional style—long repetitive sections on the one hand, and frequent switches between tempo, melody, and vocalist on the other—which mimics recitation amongst orators, can prove taxing. It creates a dynamic of brilliant moments and stand-out performances, scattered unevenly inside overextended filling. It’s perhaps not a coincidence that the album’s midsection—the two tracks led by masterminds Swords of Dis—is by far the best and most even in quality, whereas its final act—Midnight Odyssey’s—is the least engaging and unable to support its length.8

Though Waters cannot escape the idiosyncrasies of the artists behind it—and so inherently restricts its audience—as an expression of this epic poem, these approaches to black metal are surprisingly apt. If you have the time to go on this adventure with Serpent Ascending, Ôros Kaù, Swords of Dis, and Midnight Odyssey, there’s plenty to enjoy. But if nothing else, let it be an excuse to learn about the original myth that inspires such weird, sometimes wonderful music.

Rating: Good(!)
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Album BC | Serpent Ascending BC | Serpent Ascending FB | Ôros Kaù BC | Ôros Kaù FB | Swords of Dis BC | Swords of Dis FB | Midnight Odyssey BC | Midnight Odyssey FB
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Under – What Happened In Roundwood Review

There’s something tantalizing about the brand of metal-adjacent noise rock that’s experienced a renaissance in recent years. It’s…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.0 #APFRecords #ArtRock #ChatPile #CouchSlut #Entertainment #ExperimentalMetal #FreeJazz #Intercourse #Jan26 #Melvins #NoiseRock #PrimitiveMan #review #Reviews #SludgeMetal #Swans #UK #UKMetal #under #UnitedKingdom #WhatHappenedInRoundwood
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/398177/

Under – What Happened In Roundwood Review

There’s something tantalizing about the brand of metal-adjacent noise rock that’s experienced a renaissance in recent years. It’s…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.0 #APFRecords #ArtRock #CA #Canada #ChatPile #CouchSlut #Entertainment #ExperimentalMetal #FreeJazz #Intercourse #Jan26 #Melvins #NoiseRock #PrimitiveMan #review #reviews #SludgeMetal #swans #UKMetal #under #WhatHappenedInRoundwood
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/441843/

There’s something tantalizing about the brand of metal-adjacent noise rock that’s experienced a renaissance in recent years. It’s ugly, it’s loud, and it doesn’t give a damn if you’re comfortable. You’ve got breakout stars Chat Pile dragging nü-metal’s bloated corpse through the mud, Couch Slut dishing out dissonant, riff-heavy nightmare fuel, and Intercourse sounding like a feral animal tearing flesh for fun. This isn’t “revival” music; it’s bands weaponizing noise, smashing metal’s brute force into punk’s emotional hemorrhaging, and then deliberately breaking whatever’s left just to see it scream. Enter the UK’s Under, stepping into this mess with zero interest in playing nice. They fuse sludge metal’s suffocating weight, noise rock’s hostility, and art rock’s weird, confrontational instincts into something genuinely unhinged. Their third record, What Happened In Roundwood, doesn’t aim to be palatable. It aims to crush, mesmerize, and leave a dent. The question isn’t what they’re doing—it’s whether Under hit hard enough to leave permanent damage.

In the first half of What Happened In Roundwood, Under establishes their own distinct style that sits nicely in conversation with their American contemporaries. The foundations of these songs are built on angular sludge riffs over looping odd time signatures and off-kilter rhythmic patterns, like if a more avant-garde Melvins crashed into a version of Swans that was capable of editing. Bassist and vocalist Matt Franklin anchors the music with simple but weighty low-end riffs, locking tightly with drummer Andy Preece’s commanding, hypnotic grooves. Guitarist Simon Mayo fills in the gaps with jagged riffs and layers of dissonant, skronk-heavy leads. Franklin lends a sneering, British rasp to the endeavor, guiding the songs with an impassioned vocal performance that successfully conveys the aural depravity on display. This formula is deepened with the addition of menacing choral vocals and harmonies (“Ma,” “The Alchemist”), swirling guitar cacophonies (“Tantrum), and even Primitive Man-tinged, slow noise bursts (“Isaac”). It’s an effective and thoroughly unsettling display with just enough variety in its execution to keep things exciting until the B-side obliterates any sense of normalcy.

What Happened In Roundwood by Under

In the second half of What Happens In Roundwood, Under undergo a dramatic sonic shift, and the results are thrilling. The final stretch of the album leans heavily into exploratory, avant-garde jazz-influenced territory, with the tracks flowing seamlessly into one another like a three-part suite. These songs stand out as the album’s clear highlights. The sequence begins with “Rings,” which unfolds in a state of subdued horror, slowly building tension through sparse instrumentation before reaching a blissful climax. This transitions smoothly into “Roots and Limbs,” a jazzy, post-hardcore-like track that increases the tempo and intensity, providing a sense of release after several slower songs. All of this builds toward the closer, “Felling.” The final track plays out like a fever dream, reprising key moments from earlier in the album and reshaping them into a chaotic haze of noise. When the music finally collapses into rich choral vocals, it feels like the calm at the center of a storm. A perfect ending to a bold and striking second half.

This places What Happens in Roundwood in a peculiar position. The second half of the record explores markedly different sonic territory than the first, and is stronger for it. Under’s more standard sound, showcased on the first five tracks, is engaging, but compared to the highs of the final three, it falls a little short. Repeated listens leave me wanting just a bit more grit or memorability in the more straightforward sludge riffcraft before it gives way to the more exploratory material. I appreciate the band’s efforts to vary their noise-rock/sludge approach through vocal layers/embellishments or a Southern tinge (“Escape Roundwood”), but I find myself largely whelmed by the opening salvo. This isn’t a major mark against the record; the album is solid throughout. Still, it keeps the work from standing quite as tall alongside some of my favorites in the style.

With What Happens In Roundwood, Under have delivered a solid sludgy noise rock record with plenty of autre appeal. I wish the impressive oddity were distributed a bit more evenly throughout the album’s runtime, but it’s still an enjoyable listen that carves out its own unique niche within the broader style. The next time the UK group revisits their brand of sinister sludge, I’ll be excited to listen.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: APF Records
Websites: understockport.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/understockport
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

There’s something tantalizing about the brand of metal-adjacent noise rock that’s experienced a renaissance in recent years. It’s ugly, it’s loud, and it doesn’t give a damn if you’re comfortable. You’ve got breakout stars Chat Pile dragging nü-metal’s bloated corpse through the mud, Couch Slut dishing out dissonant, riff-heavy nightmare fuel, and Intercourse sounding like a feral animal tearing flesh for fun. This isn’t “revival” music; it’s bands weaponizing noise, smashing metal’s brute force into punk’s emotional hemorrhaging, and then deliberately breaking whatever’s left just to see it scream. Enter the UK’s Under, stepping into this mess with zero interest in playing nice. They fuse sludge metal’s suffocating weight, noise rock’s hostility, and art rock’s weird, confrontational instincts into something genuinely unhinged. Their third record, What Happened In Roundwood, doesn’t aim to be palatable. It aims to crush, mesmerize, and leave a dent. The question isn’t what they’re doing—it’s whether Under hit hard enough to leave permanent damage.

In the first half of What Happened In Roundwood, Under establishes their own distinct style that sits nicely in conversation with their American contemporaries. The foundations of these songs are built on angular sludge riffs over looping odd time signatures and off-kilter rhythmic patterns, like if a more avant-garde Melvins crashed into a version of Swans that was capable of editing. Bassist and vocalist Matt Franklin anchors the music with simple but weighty low-end riffs, locking tightly with drummer Andy Preece’s commanding, hypnotic grooves. Guitarist Simon Mayo fills in the gaps with jagged riffs and layers of dissonant, skronk-heavy leads. Franklin lends a sneering, British rasp to the endeavor, guiding the songs with an impassioned vocal performance that successfully conveys the aural depravity on display. This formula is deepened with the addition of menacing choral vocals and harmonies (“Ma,” “The Alchemist”), swirling guitar cacophonies (“Tantrum), and even Primitive Man-tinged, slow noise bursts (“Isaac”). It’s an effective and thoroughly unsettling display with just enough variety in its execution to keep things exciting until the B-side obliterates any sense of normalcy.

What Happened In Roundwood by Under

In the second half of What Happens In Roundwood, Under undergo a dramatic sonic shift, and the results are thrilling. The final stretch of the album leans heavily into exploratory, avant-garde jazz-influenced territory, with the tracks flowing seamlessly into one another like a three-part suite. These songs stand out as the album’s clear highlights. The sequence begins with “Rings,” which unfolds in a state of subdued horror, slowly building tension through sparse instrumentation before reaching a blissful climax. This transitions smoothly into “Roots and Limbs,” a jazzy, post-hardcore-like track that increases the tempo and intensity, providing a sense of release after several slower songs. All of this builds toward the closer, “Felling.” The final track plays out like a fever dream, reprising key moments from earlier in the album and reshaping them into a chaotic haze of noise. When the music finally collapses into rich choral vocals, it feels like the calm at the center of a storm. A perfect ending to a bold and striking second half.

This places What Happens in Roundwood in a peculiar position. The second half of the record explores markedly different sonic territory than the first, and is stronger for it. Under’s more standard sound, showcased on the first five tracks, is engaging, but compared to the highs of the final three, it falls a little short. Repeated listens leave me wanting just a bit more grit or memorability in the more straightforward sludge riffcraft before it gives way to the more exploratory material. I appreciate the band’s efforts to vary their noise-rock/sludge approach through vocal layers/embellishments or a Southern tinge (“Escape Roundwood”), but I find myself largely whelmed by the opening salvo. This isn’t a major mark against the record; the album is solid throughout. Still, it keeps the work from standing quite as tall alongside some of my favorites in the style.

With What Happens In Roundwood, Under have delivered a solid sludgy noise rock record with plenty of autre appeal. I wish the impressive oddity were distributed a bit more evenly throughout the album’s runtime, but it’s still an enjoyable listen that carves out its own unique niche within the broader style. The next time the UK group revisits their brand of sinister sludge, I’ll be excited to listen.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: APF Records
Websites: understockport.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/understockport
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

There’s something tantalizing about the brand of metal-adjacent noise rock that’s experienced a renaissance in recent years. It’s ugly, it’s loud, and it doesn’t give a damn if you’re comfortable. You’ve got breakout stars Chat Pile dragging nü-metal’s bloated corpse through the mud, Couch Slut dishing out dissonant, riff-heavy nightmare fuel, and Intercourse sounding like a feral animal tearing flesh for fun. This isn’t “revival” music; it’s bands weaponizing noise, smashing metal’s brute force into punk’s emotional hemorrhaging, and then deliberately breaking whatever’s left just to see it scream. Enter the UK’s Under, stepping into this mess with zero interest in playing nice. They fuse sludge metal’s suffocating weight, noise rock’s hostility, and art rock’s weird, confrontational instincts into something genuinely unhinged. Their third record, What Happened In Roundwood, doesn’t aim to be palatable. It aims to crush, mesmerize, and leave a dent. The question isn’t what they’re doing—it’s whether Under hit hard enough to leave permanent damage.

In the first half of What Happened In Roundwood, Under establishes their own distinct style that sits nicely in conversation with their American contemporaries. The foundations of these songs are built on angular sludge riffs over looping odd time signatures and off-kilter rhythmic patterns, like if a more avant-garde Melvins crashed into a version of Swans that was capable of editing. Bassist and vocalist Matt Franklin anchors the music with simple but weighty low-end riffs, locking tightly with drummer Andy Preece’s commanding, hypnotic grooves. Guitarist Simon Mayo fills in the gaps with jagged riffs and layers of dissonant, skronk-heavy leads. Franklin lends a sneering, British rasp to the endeavor, guiding the songs with an impassioned vocal performance that successfully conveys the aural depravity on display. This formula is deepened with the addition of menacing choral vocals and harmonies (“Ma,” “The Alchemist”), swirling guitar cacophonies (“Tantrum), and even Primitive Man-tinged, slow noise bursts (“Isaac”). It’s an effective and thoroughly unsettling display with just enough variety in its execution to keep things exciting until the B-side obliterates any sense of normalcy.

What Happened In Roundwood by Under

In the second half of What Happens In Roundwood, Under undergo a dramatic sonic shift, and the results are thrilling. The final stretch of the album leans heavily into exploratory, avant-garde jazz-influenced territory, with the tracks flowing seamlessly into one another like a three-part suite. These songs stand out as the album’s clear highlights. The sequence begins with “Rings,” which unfolds in a state of subdued horror, slowly building tension through sparse instrumentation before reaching a blissful climax. This transitions smoothly into “Roots and Limbs,” a jazzy, post-hardcore-like track that increases the tempo and intensity, providing a sense of release after several slower songs. All of this builds toward the closer, “Felling.” The final track plays out like a fever dream, reprising key moments from earlier in the album and reshaping them into a chaotic haze of noise. When the music finally collapses into rich choral vocals, it feels like the calm at the center of a storm. A perfect ending to a bold and striking second half.

This places What Happens in Roundwood in a peculiar position. The second half of the record explores markedly different sonic territory than the first, and is stronger for it. Under’s more standard sound, showcased on the first five tracks, is engaging, but compared to the highs of the final three, it falls a little short. Repeated listens leave me wanting just a bit more grit or memorability in the more straightforward sludge riffcraft before it gives way to the more exploratory material. I appreciate the band’s efforts to vary their noise-rock/sludge approach through vocal layers/embellishments or a Southern tinge (“Escape Roundwood”), but I find myself largely whelmed by the opening salvo. This isn’t a major mark against the record; the album is solid throughout. Still, it keeps the work from standing quite as tall alongside some of my favorites in the style.

With What Happens In Roundwood, Under have delivered a solid sludgy noise rock record with plenty of autre appeal. I wish the impressive oddity were distributed a bit more evenly throughout the album’s runtime, but it’s still an enjoyable listen that carves out its own unique niche within the broader style. The next time the UK group revisits their brand of sinister sludge, I’ll be excited to listen.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: APF Records
Websites: understockport.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/understockport
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

There’s something tantalizing about the brand of metal-adjacent noise rock that’s experienced a renaissance in recent years. It’s ugly, it’s loud, and it doesn’t give a damn if you’re comfortable. You’ve got breakout stars Chat Pile dragging nü-metal’s bloated corpse through the mud, Couch Slut dishing out dissonant, riff-heavy nightmare fuel, and Intercourse sounding like a feral animal tearing flesh for fun. This isn’t “revival” music; it’s bands weaponizing noise, smashing metal’s brute force into punk’s emotional hemorrhaging, and then deliberately breaking whatever’s left just to see it scream. Enter the UK’s Under, stepping into this mess with zero interest in playing nice. They fuse sludge metal’s suffocating weight, noise rock’s hostility, and art rock’s weird, confrontational instincts into something genuinely unhinged. Their third record, What Happened In Roundwood, doesn’t aim to be palatable. It aims to crush, mesmerize, and leave a dent. The question isn’t what they’re doing—it’s whether Under hit hard enough to leave permanent damage.

In the first half of What Happened In Roundwood, Under establishes their own distinct style that sits nicely in conversation with their American contemporaries. The foundations of these songs are built on angular sludge riffs over looping odd time signatures and off-kilter rhythmic patterns, like if a more avant-garde Melvins crashed into a version of Swans that was capable of editing. Bassist and vocalist Matt Franklin anchors the music with simple but weighty low-end riffs, locking tightly with drummer Andy Preece’s commanding, hypnotic grooves. Guitarist Simon Mayo fills in the gaps with jagged riffs and layers of dissonant, skronk-heavy leads. Franklin lends a sneering, British rasp to the endeavor, guiding the songs with an impassioned vocal performance that successfully conveys the aural depravity on display. This formula is deepened with the addition of menacing choral vocals and harmonies (“Ma,” “The Alchemist”), swirling guitar cacophonies (“Tantrum), and even Primitive Man-tinged, slow noise bursts (“Isaac”). It’s an effective and thoroughly unsettling display with just enough variety in its execution to keep things exciting until the B-side obliterates any sense of normalcy.

What Happened In Roundwood by Under

In the second half of What Happens In Roundwood, Under undergo a dramatic sonic shift, and the results are thrilling. The final stretch of the album leans heavily into exploratory, avant-garde jazz-influenced territory, with the tracks flowing seamlessly into one another like a three-part suite. These songs stand out as the album’s clear highlights. The sequence begins with “Rings,” which unfolds in a state of subdued horror, slowly building tension through sparse instrumentation before reaching a blissful climax. This transitions smoothly into “Roots and Limbs,” a jazzy, post-hardcore-like track that increases the tempo and intensity, providing a sense of release after several slower songs. All of this builds toward the closer, “Felling.” The final track plays out like a fever dream, reprising key moments from earlier in the album and reshaping them into a chaotic haze of noise. When the music finally collapses into rich choral vocals, it feels like the calm at the center of a storm. A perfect ending to a bold and striking second half.

This places What Happens in Roundwood in a peculiar position. The second half of the record explores markedly different sonic territory than the first, and is stronger for it. Under’s more standard sound, showcased on the first five tracks, is engaging, but compared to the highs of the final three, it falls a little short. Repeated listens leave me wanting just a bit more grit or memorability in the more straightforward sludge riffcraft before it gives way to the more exploratory material. I appreciate the band’s efforts to vary their noise-rock/sludge approach through vocal layers/embellishments or a Southern tinge (“Escape Roundwood”), but I find myself largely whelmed by the opening salvo. This isn’t a major mark against the record; the album is solid throughout. Still, it keeps the work from standing quite as tall alongside some of my favorites in the style.

With What Happens In Roundwood, Under have delivered a solid sludgy noise rock record with plenty of autre appeal. I wish the impressive oddity were distributed a bit more evenly throughout the album’s runtime, but it’s still an enjoyable listen that carves out its own unique niche within the broader style. The next time the UK group revisits their brand of sinister sludge, I’ll be excited to listen.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: APF Records
Websites: understockport.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/understockport
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

There’s something tantalizing about the brand of metal-adjacent noise rock that’s experienced a renaissance in recent years. It’s ugly, it’s loud, and it doesn’t give a damn if you’re comfortable. You’ve got breakout stars Chat Pile dragging nü-metal’s bloated corpse through the mud, Couch Slut dishing out dissonant, riff-heavy nightmare fuel, and Intercourse sounding like a feral animal tearing flesh for fun. This isn’t “revival” music; it’s bands weaponizing noise, smashing metal’s brute force into punk’s emotional hemorrhaging, and then deliberately breaking whatever’s left just to see it scream. Enter the UK’s Under, stepping into this mess with zero interest in playing nice. They fuse sludge metal’s suffocating weight, noise rock’s hostility, and art rock’s weird, confrontational instincts into something genuinely unhinged. Their third record, What Happened In Roundwood, doesn’t aim to be palatable. It aims to crush, mesmerize, and leave a dent. The question isn’t what they’re doing—it’s whether Under hit hard enough to leave permanent damage.

In the first half of What Happened In Roundwood, Under establishes their own distinct style that sits nicely in conversation with their American contemporaries. The foundations of these songs are built on angular sludge riffs over looping odd time signatures and off-kilter rhythmic patterns, like if a more avant-garde Melvins crashed into a version of Swans that was capable of editing. Bassist and vocalist Matt Franklin anchors the music with simple but weighty low-end riffs, locking tightly with drummer Andy Preece’s commanding, hypnotic grooves. Guitarist Simon Mayo fills in the gaps with jagged riffs and layers of dissonant, skronk-heavy leads. Franklin lends a sneering, British rasp to the endeavor, guiding the songs with an impassioned vocal performance that successfully conveys the aural depravity on display. This formula is deepened with the addition of menacing choral vocals and harmonies (“Ma,” “The Alchemist”), swirling guitar cacophonies (“Tantrum), and even Primitive Man-tinged, slow noise bursts (“Isaac”). It’s an effective and thoroughly unsettling display with just enough variety in its execution to keep things exciting until the B-side obliterates any sense of normalcy.

What Happened In Roundwood by Under

In the second half of What Happens In Roundwood, Under undergo a dramatic sonic shift, and the results are thrilling. The final stretch of the album leans heavily into exploratory, avant-garde jazz-influenced territory, with the tracks flowing seamlessly into one another like a three-part suite. These songs stand out as the album’s clear highlights. The sequence begins with “Rings,” which unfolds in a state of subdued horror, slowly building tension through sparse instrumentation before reaching a blissful climax. This transitions smoothly into “Roots and Limbs,” a jazzy, post-hardcore-like track that increases the tempo and intensity, providing a sense of release after several slower songs. All of this builds toward the closer, “Felling.” The final track plays out like a fever dream, reprising key moments from earlier in the album and reshaping them into a chaotic haze of noise. When the music finally collapses into rich choral vocals, it feels like the calm at the center of a storm. A perfect ending to a bold and striking second half.

This places What Happens in Roundwood in a peculiar position. The second half of the record explores markedly different sonic territory than the first, and is stronger for it. Under’s more standard sound, showcased on the first five tracks, is engaging, but compared to the highs of the final three, it falls a little short. Repeated listens leave me wanting just a bit more grit or memorability in the more straightforward sludge riffcraft before it gives way to the more exploratory material. I appreciate the band’s efforts to vary their noise-rock/sludge approach through vocal layers/embellishments or a Southern tinge (“Escape Roundwood”), but I find myself largely whelmed by the opening salvo. This isn’t a major mark against the record; the album is solid throughout. Still, it keeps the work from standing quite as tall alongside some of my favorites in the style.

With What Happens In Roundwood, Under have delivered a solid sludgy noise rock record with plenty of autre appeal. I wish the impressive oddity were distributed a bit more evenly throughout the album’s runtime, but it’s still an enjoyable listen that carves out its own unique niche within the broader style. The next time the UK group revisits their brand of sinister sludge, I’ll be excited to listen.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: APF Records
Websites: understockport.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/understockport
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

The evolution of a band is a fickle thing. Change too much, and you alienate those who started the journey with you; change too little and bore listeners over time, leaving only ardent fans of the sound. URNE, a London three-piece with close ties to Gojira and Mastodon, has already shown a surprising amount of reformation by their third release, Setting Fire to the Sky. The band’s debut, SERPENT & SPIRIT, was a hard-edged mix of post-hardcore, sweeping grooves, and raw vocals, with a little bit of sludge thrown into their clean-singing. Their sophomore album refined the sound and felt like a logical evolution, even with a few missteps (especially on the production side). Setting Fire to the Sky fixes some of these issues and sees the band streamline their songs, but not all change is good. Instead of crawling into a chrysalis and emerging as a flying beauty, they slither out as something more akin to a leech, spilling out of their cocoon and siphoning other bands’ sounds to a fault.

URNE serves up nearly fifty minutes of Mastodon-infused metalcore on Setting Fire to the Sky. Yes, you read that correctly. Nothing on their third album feels reminiscent of the classic-rock-infused, post-hardcore sludge on their debut, or the post-metal epics on A Feast on Sorrow. Instead, their latest is stuffed with songs that, while expertly played and produced, feel soulless. Joe Nally sounds like a different singer at this point. While his clean singing is infinitely more competent, it sounds too similar to Mastodon’s Troy Sanders. Nally’s basswork fares better, and he manhandles the frets along Angus Neyra’s thrashy riffs and James Cook’s punchy drumming. The trio sounds great, and their work has been honed like a razor, likely due to their time alongside massive acts like Gojira and Mastodon, but they lack the creative bend of either. Setting Fire to the Sky feels meant to cast a wide net, playing arenas and the radio, but leaving much of the spirit (heh) that was present on SPIRIT & SERPENT to wither.

Expectations hurt URNE on Setting Fire to the Sky. After A Feast on Sorrow, I saw a band poised for their best work yet. URNE’s latest shows a tighter band playing well, and the production is much better than their last outing, but nearly every other facet feels weaker. Songs quickly grow formulaic and repetitive, with “Be Not Dismayed,” “The Spirit, Alive,” and “Setting Fire to the Sky” starting with a chuggy opening riff (usually the best part) and slowly morphing into a generic metalcore song. Each features the typical swing back and forth between core-style screaming and harmonized clean choruses that feel hamfisted, with generically uplifting lyrics like “Be not dismayed and carry this torch forward.” The album lacks the flourishes of URNE’s past two releases, and rarely do songs deviate from their repetitive structures.

Setting Fire to the Sky isn’t all disappointing. As previously mentioned, the production is great, and James Cook’s snare sounds wonderful throughout. While formulaic, the album is full of riffs that will at least get you headbanging, even if they are without pathos. “The Ancient Horizon” is an album highlight, featuring a massive lead and a sound worthy of its title while avoiding the pitfalls of the metalcore hole URNE has crawled into. Album closer “Nocturnal Forms” falls on the good side of Mastodon worship, with a chorus that feels like something off Emperor of Sand. A few features appear on the album, like the aforementioned “Harken the Waves” with Troy Sanders. A song that feels somewhat comical given Joe Nally’s clear worship of Sander’s iconic style, making for a feature that feels obligatory but not complementary. The second, “Breathe” with Jo Quail, goes nowhere. An overly sappy tune with bland cleans and cringe lyrics like “I saw the world, before the world saw me.” Neither feature feels necessary, and with the latter, you have a track that could be cut altogether.

I had high expectations, but Setting Fire to the Sky failed to meet them at every turn. The band’s sound changed in a way that many metal fans are familiar with. More generic music, more radio-friendly songs, more clean singing, all the things that make longtime metal fans cringe and flip on a group. While I foresee this album ending up all over year-end lists on the normie sites, this record is a shadow of the band’s clear inspirations and shows a group that should return to what made them stand out in the first place. At least the album artwork is gorgeous.

Rating: Mixed
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream :(
Label: Spinefarm
Websites: urneofficial.com | instagram.com/urneband
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Been too long since I've listened to Cryptworm's masterpiece from 2023. Fixing that now.

https://cryptworm.bandcamp.com/album/oozing-radioactive-vomition

#metal #DeathMetal #NowPlaying #UKBands #UKMetal #Bristol #BristolBands #BristolMetal

Chairmaker – Leviathan Carcass Review

By Andy-War-Hall

Shit’s gone to the dogs, man. I don’t need to justify this claim. I know it, you know it, and multi-instrumentalist/university lecturer/UK extreme metal devotee Neil Erskine sure knows it, confirmed thoroughly by his new grind outfit Chairmaker and their debut record Leviathan Carcass. A solo effort outside of mixing and mastering,1 Chairmaker is Erskine’s newest conduit for the condemnation of malignant societal forces and the “reactionism and lack of critical thinking that occupies the online political landscape.” This is grind. This all checks out. Chairmaker’s blood is boiling on Leviathan Carcass, but can they get the listener’s boiling, too?

Leviathan Carcass is made of small pieces that all embody the grind spirit: nasty, brutish and short. Chairmaker rages with the pointed hostility of acts like Brutal Truth, describing extreme conditions via scathing lyrics and throat-eviscerating screams while prescribing extreme responses by way of belligerent speed and riffcraft. Songs like “Ratlicker” and “Good Art by Shit People” begin and end with little or no to-do, and every track hovers around a minute long except the two-and-a-half-minute “Dead Optimists.”2 Chairmaker are economic on Leviathan Carcass, filling every second with riffs and beats of deathly (“Making Nails”), scronky (“Leviathan Carcass”) and chugging natures (“Half a Puppy”), recorded with caustic tones and a suffocating production sure to sandpaper the sides of your brain smooth. The emotional needle of Leviathan Carcass sits motionless at the far end of pissed-off, reaching rancorous fever pitches on the blast beat bonanzas of “Pigfucker” and “Loud, Confident and Wrong.” For almost fifteen minutes, Chairmaker states in certain terms just how Erskine feels about our current socio-political landscape on Leviathan Carcass.

Amidst the flash-in-the-pan bursts of pure aggression, Chairmaker display sneaky depth in Leviathan Carcass. Despite the breakneck business of Leviathan Carcass, its riffs are discernible and technical. From the dissonant and squeal-filled “Dead Optimists,” to the one-string ascending “Powdered Nostalgia,” to the math-y chops of “Others’ Interest,” Leviathan Carcass lives in chaotic intentionality. Further, though Chairmaker’s songs flow together so seamlessly that it’s easy to miss where they start and end, Leviathan Carcass contains personality within individual tracks. Even in simple riffs there’s identity: “Making Nails” has a more vintage death metal sound, “Pigfucker” goes off with hammer-offs and “Hagiographers” sees Chairmaker make quick stops that gives the song a jerky, off-balance feel. Naturally, being grind, there are samples throughout Leviathan Carcass, and the ones here either introduce the songs effectively and amusingly (“Micron-Thick Skin,” “Half a Puppy”) or are incorporated in the middle of songs naturally and unobtrusively (“Leviathan Carcass,” “Dead Optimists”). Bundle it all with well-written, inflamed lyricism,3 and you got yourself an album with legs.

This being said, Chairmaker still don’t rise above some of the things that make grind a hard sell for many. For one, I wonder how effective Erskine’s lyrics can be to most listeners when delivered in such an indecipherable, monotonous manner. Whether railing against ideologically-driven historical revisionism on “Powdered Nostalgia,” the bottomless greed of the 1% on “Others’ Interest,” or any number of other topics on Leviathan Carcass, Chairmaker use the same language of relentless noise to communicate it vocally. I think some of the individual nuances of the messaging are lost as a result. Further, though many of its songs are fully baked despite their runtimes, some songs like “Ratlicker” or “Micron-Thick Skin” feel somewhat incomplete, like they’re missing a section or two needed to really bring it home. The relentless energy of Leviathan Carcass also means the album is mostly one-note, meaning it’s both easy to lose focus and hard to get in if you aren’t already bought in on grind. Chairmaker is a more than competent grind outfit, but Leviathan Carcass likely won’t change too many minds about the genre, either.

But Leviathan Carcass was not assembled while senselessly incensed, but instead incensed by senselessness, and that makes all the difference for Chairmaker’s success. Leviathan Carcass is a vicious record, and while specific details of its listening experience might not stick easily, the overall impact of it lasts well after its conclusion. At Leviathan Carcass’s worst, Chairmaker is still an entertaining and thoughtful entity. At its best, Leviathan Carcass is the kind of teeth-gritting, knuckle-whitening ragestorm everyone needs once in a while. I have no idea why he went with “Chairmaker,” though. It’s a bit befuddling.

Rating: Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: ~260 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: chairmakerblast.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #brutalTruth #chairmaker #deathMetal #grind #leviathanCarcass #nov25 #review #reviews #selfReleased #ukMetal

🔥 New Music Video Alert – No Worth Of Man“Mondo Decay”

💀 Watch: https://youtu.be/rKK865JRaAA

#NoWorthOfMan #MondoDecay #BrutalDeathMetal #UKMetal #BritishMetal #TheKillingStreets #MusicVideo #BrutalRecords #ExtremeMetal #MetalCommunity #MetalMusic

Qrixkuor – The Womb of the World Review

By Kenstrosity

Four and a half years ago, Qrixkuor’s debut LP Poison Palinopsia took me by complete surprise, shoving its way inexorably towards a #3 spot on my Top Ten(ish) of 2021. Merging elements of psychedelia, black-and-white horror/thriller OSTs, and cavernous death metal into one gnarled abomination, the UK duo evokes an ever-contorting grotesquery put to music. After 2022’s follow-up EP Zoetrope, which left me cold by comparison, I waited with bated, anxious breath for the next long-form opus. At long last it looms just over the horizon, The Womb of the World.

Two key differences distinguish The Womb of the World from Poison Palinopsia. Firstly, it consists of four epics instead of two, clocking in at a comparable net runtime of 50 minutes. Secondly, Qrixkuor’s trademark orchestrations are performed by The Orchestra of the Silent Stars, which means every instrument and voice you hear is the genuine article. From there, much of the sound and style you’ve heard from Qrixkuor before carries over to today. Cavernous, horrific, bizarre and beautiful, The Womb of the World splits open a cosmic gash from which endless unknowable terrors spill forth in uncontrolled hemorrhage. Head-spinning arpeggios, cascading chromatics, unrelenting riff barrages, and dramatic orchestral hysteria coalesce into a barely ordered chaos that tests my sanity with every phrase. A deformed maze of unhinged twangs, discordant choirs, and reckless blasts guides me but refuses to hold my hand, leaving me to get lost in a miasma of ghastly visions the likes of which only nightmares conjure. With this deeply disturbing methodology, Qrixkuor once again invokes a singular beauty from viscous tar most foul.

Just as was the case for Poison Palinopsia, The Womb of the World isn’t a record of immediacy, but rather one of tricky depth and exceptional layering. With every revisit, compelled as I am to return to something as disturbingly alluring as this, new petals unfurl, additional barbs prick the skin, and my mind falls further down Qrixkuor’s abyss. One example out of countless multitudes, epic 17-minute closer “The Womb of the World” disguises vampiric organs underneath glistening strings and serrated death metal riffs and rhythms. Eventually, those more dominant elements spread out, allowing dramatic pipes to fill the void left between; only to be once more superseded not only by a prolonged and intensely satisfying guitar solo that I’d sooner expect from a much sleazier act, but also the record’s most ascendant orchestral climax. In another case, a torturous chaos howling throughout “And You Shall Know Perdition as Your Shrine” obfuscates all forms that would dare stand behind it, but as the perilous brambles shift and writhe, I start to see an underlying order emanating from within. Suddenly, guest vocalist Jaded Lungs’ (Adorior) hellish utterances and S’s complex guitar work and lush orchestrations ring with a definition and clarity I couldn’t acquire before. That gentle order which Qrixkuor wields so well ensures that The Womb of the World twists and slides through such tumultuous environs as these with uncannily fluidity—act to act, song to song, verse to verse, measure to measure—leaving behind nary a single wasted second.

The Womb of the World is undeniably memorable in a way Poison Palinopsia never quite achieved. I am loath to call anything Qrixkuor pens accessible, but opener “So Spoke the Silent Stars” launches the record with such incredible power and propulsion—exhibiting, largely through D’s fantastic drum performance, a deathly muscularity fortified by the grace and flexibility of a far more lithe and lean figure—that it embeds deep within my psyche. “Slithering Serendipity” pulls off the same feat, albeit through a more emotional appeal. Emotive and exuberant soloing, inspired choir bursts, and deceptively simple lead-guitar/piano core melodies peel back the calloused flesh that shields The Womb of the World’s bleeding heart. Thus, it invites me to fall hopelessly in love with that which should revolt and repulse. Whatever flaws that seemed to exist up to that point fall away into nothingness, made meaningless by the passion and commitment Qrixkuor poured into every curled note.

But I must remember, flaws are the essence of true beauty. For The Womb of the World, those flaws are more often than not ones of production as opposed to performance. Most notably, the drums. D’s performance is nothing short of staggering, but his snare is muffled, his cymbals a touch glassy for my taste, and his bass drum just muddy enough to congeal in moments of extreme rapidity. Yet, it’s hard to imagine that The Womb of the World would sound the way it should if Qrixkuor erased those blemishes. In any case, it’s safe to say that Qrixkuor outdid themselves. Their sound and style won’t find fans in every corner. In fact, I’d go so far as to say The Womb of the World is liable to weed out prudish listeners more harshly than Poison Palinopsia already had. But it is an unqualified success all the same, a mastapeece for those to whom sanity is immaterial. Should you be of that sort, The Womb of the World is essential.

Rating: Excellent!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Invictus Productions
Websites: qrixkuordeath.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/qrixkuor
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #45 #Adorior #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #InvictusProductions #Nov25 #PsycheledicMetal #Qrixkuor #Review #Reviews #SymphonicDeathMetal #SymphonicMetal #TheOrchestraOfTheSilentStars #TheWombOfTheWorld #UKMetal

Qrixkuor – The Womb of the World Review

By Kenstrosity

Four and a half years ago, Qrixkuor’s debut LP Poison Palinopsia took me by complete surprise, shoving its way inexorably towards a #3 spot on my Top Ten(ish) of 2021. Merging elements of psychedelia, black-and-white horror/thriller OSTs, and cavernous death metal into one gnarled abomination, the UK duo evokes an ever-contorting grotesquery put to music. After 2022’s follow-up EP Zoetrope, which left me cold by comparison, I waited with bated, anxious breath for the next long-form opus. At long last it looms just over the horizon, The Womb of the World.

Two key differences distinguish The Womb of the World from Poison Palinopsia. Firstly, it consists of four epics instead of two, clocking in at a comparable net runtime of 50 minutes. Secondly, Qrixkuor’s trademark orchestrations are performed by The Orchestra of the Silent Stars, which means every instrument and voice you hear is the genuine article. From there, much of the sound and style you’ve heard from Qrixkuor before carries over to today. Cavernous, horrific, bizarre and beautiful, The Womb of the World splits open a cosmic gash from which endless unknowable terrors spill forth in uncontrolled hemorrhage. Head-spinning arpeggios, cascading chromatics, unrelenting riff barrages, and dramatic orchestral hysteria coalesce into a barely ordered chaos that tests my sanity with every phrase. A deformed maze of unhinged twangs, discordant choirs, and reckless blasts guides me but refuses to hold my hand, leaving me to get lost in a miasma of ghastly visions the likes of which only nightmares conjure. With this deeply disturbing methodology, Qrixkuor once again invokes a singular beauty from viscous tar most foul.

Just as was the case for Poison Palinopsia, The Womb of the World isn’t a record of immediacy, but rather one of tricky depth and exceptional layering. With every revisit, compelled as I am to return to something as disturbingly alluring as this, new petals unfurl, additional barbs prick the skin, and my mind falls further down Qrixkuor’s abyss. One example out of countless multitudes, epic 17-minute closer “The Womb of the World” disguises vampiric organs underneath glistening strings and serrated death metal riffs and rhythms. Eventually, those more dominant elements spread out, allowing dramatic pipes to fill the void left between; only to be once more superseded not only by a prolonged and intensely satisfying guitar solo that I’d sooner expect from a much sleazier act, but also the record’s most ascendant orchestral climax. In another case, a torturous chaos howling throughout “And You Shall Know Perdition as Your Shrine” obfuscates all forms that would dare stand behind it, but as the perilous brambles shift and writhe, I start to see an underlying order emanating from within. Suddenly, guest vocalist Jaded Lungs’ (Adorior) hellish utterances and S’s complex guitar work and lush orchestrations ring with a definition and clarity I couldn’t acquire before. That gentle order which Qrixkuor wields so well ensures that The Womb of the World twists and slides through such tumultuous environs as these with uncannily fluidity—act to act, song to song, verse to verse, measure to measure—leaving behind nary a single wasted second.

The Womb of the World is undeniably memorable in a way Poison Palinopsia never quite achieved. I am loath to call anything Qrixkuor pens accessible, but opener “So Spoke the Silent Stars” launches the record with such incredible power and propulsion—exhibiting, largely through D’s fantastic drum performance, a deathly muscularity fortified by the grace and flexibility of a far more lithe and lean figure—that it embeds deep within my psyche. “Slithering Serendipity” pulls off the same feat, albeit through a more emotional appeal. Emotive and exuberant soloing, inspired choir bursts, and deceptively simple lead-guitar/piano core melodies peel back the calloused flesh that shields The Womb of the World’s bleeding heart. Thus, it invites me to fall hopelessly in love with that which should revolt and repulse. Whatever flaws that seemed to exist up to that point fall away into nothingness, made meaningless by the passion and commitment Qrixkuor poured into every curled note.

But I must remember, flaws are the essence of true beauty. For The Womb of the World, those flaws are more often than not ones of production as opposed to performance. Most notably, the drums. D’s performance is nothing short of staggering, but his snare is muffled, his cymbals a touch glassy for my taste, and his bass drum just muddy enough to congeal in moments of extreme rapidity. Yet, it’s hard to imagine that The Womb of the World would sound the way it should if Qrixkuor erased those blemishes. In any case, it’s safe to say that Qrixkuor outdid themselves. Their sound and style won’t find fans in every corner. In fact, I’d go so far as to say The Womb of the World is liable to weed out prudish listeners more harshly than Poison Palinopsia already had. But it is an unqualified success all the same, a mastapeece for those to whom sanity is immaterial. Should you be of that sort, The Womb of the World is essential.

Rating: Excellent!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Invictus Productions
Websites: qrixkuordeath.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/qrixkuor
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #45 #Adorior #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #InvictusProductions #Nov25 #PsycheledicMetal #Qrixkuor #Review #Reviews #SymphonicDeathMetal #SymphonicMetal #TheOrchestraOfTheSilentStars #TheWombOfTheWorld #UKMetal

Qrixkuor – The Womb of the World Review

By Kenstrosity

Four and a half years ago, Qrixkuor’s debut LP Poison Palinopsia took me by complete surprise, shoving its way inexorably towards a #3 spot on my Top Ten(ish) of 2021. Merging elements of psychedelia, black-and-white horror/thriller OSTs, and cavernous death metal into one gnarled abomination, the UK duo evokes an ever-contorting grotesquery put to music. After 2022’s follow-up EP Zoetrope, which left me cold by comparison, I waited with bated, anxious breath for the next long-form opus. At long last it looms just over the horizon, The Womb of the World.

Two key differences distinguish The Womb of the World from Poison Palinopsia. Firstly, it consists of four epics instead of two, clocking in at a comparable net runtime of 50 minutes. Secondly, Qrixkuor’s trademark orchestrations are performed by The Orchestra of the Silent Stars, which means every instrument and voice you hear is the genuine article. From there, much of the sound and style you’ve heard from Qrixkuor before carries over to today. Cavernous, horrific, bizarre and beautiful, The Womb of the World splits open a cosmic gash from which endless unknowable terrors spill forth in uncontrolled hemorrhage. Head-spinning arpeggios, cascading chromatics, unrelenting riff barrages, and dramatic orchestral hysteria coalesce into a barely ordered chaos that tests my sanity with every phrase. A deformed maze of unhinged twangs, discordant choirs, and reckless blasts guides me but refuses to hold my hand, leaving me to get lost in a miasma of ghastly visions the likes of which only nightmares conjure. With this deeply disturbing methodology, Qrixkuor once again invokes a singular beauty from viscous tar most foul.

Just as was the case for Poison Palinopsia, The Womb of the World isn’t a record of immediacy, but rather one of tricky depth and exceptional layering. With every revisit, compelled as I am to return to something as disturbingly alluring as this, new petals unfurl, additional barbs prick the skin, and my mind falls further down Qrixkuor’s abyss. One example out of countless multitudes, epic 17-minute closer “The Womb of the World” disguises vampiric organs underneath glistening strings and serrated death metal riffs and rhythms. Eventually, those more dominant elements spread out, allowing dramatic pipes to fill the void left between; only to be once more superseded not only by a prolonged and intensely satisfying guitar solo that I’d sooner expect from a much sleazier act, but also the record’s most ascendant orchestral climax. In another case, a torturous chaos howling throughout “And You Shall Know Perdition as Your Shrine” obfuscates all forms that would dare stand behind it, but as the perilous brambles shift and writhe, I start to see an underlying order emanating from within. Suddenly, guest vocalist Jaded Lungs’ (Adorior) hellish utterances and S’s complex guitar work and lush orchestrations ring with a definition and clarity I couldn’t acquire before. That gentle order which Qrixkuor wields so well ensures that The Womb of the World twists and slides through such tumultuous environs as these with uncannily fluidity—act to act, song to song, verse to verse, measure to measure—leaving behind nary a single wasted second.

The Womb of the World is undeniably memorable in a way Poison Palinopsia never quite achieved. I am loath to call anything Qrixkuor pens accessible, but opener “So Spoke the Silent Stars” launches the record with such incredible power and propulsion—exhibiting, largely through D’s fantastic drum performance, a deathly muscularity fortified by the grace and flexibility of a far more lithe and lean figure—that it embeds deep within my psyche. “Slithering Serendipity” pulls off the same feat, albeit through a more emotional appeal. Emotive and exuberant soloing, inspired choir bursts, and deceptively simple lead-guitar/piano core melodies peel back the calloused flesh that shields The Womb of the World’s bleeding heart. Thus, it invites me to fall hopelessly in love with that which should revolt and repulse. Whatever flaws that seemed to exist up to that point fall away into nothingness, made meaningless by the passion and commitment Qrixkuor poured into every curled note.

But I must remember, flaws are the essence of true beauty. For The Womb of the World, those flaws are more often than not ones of production as opposed to performance. Most notably, the drums. D’s performance is nothing short of staggering, but his snare is muffled, his cymbals a touch glassy for my taste, and his bass drum just muddy enough to congeal in moments of extreme rapidity. Yet, it’s hard to imagine that The Womb of the World would sound the way it should if Qrixkuor erased those blemishes. In any case, it’s safe to say that Qrixkuor outdid themselves. Their sound and style won’t find fans in every corner. In fact, I’d go so far as to say The Womb of the World is liable to weed out prudish listeners more harshly than Poison Palinopsia already had. But it is an unqualified success all the same, a mastapeece for those to whom sanity is immaterial. Should you be of that sort, The Womb of the World is essential.

Rating: Excellent!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Invictus Productions
Websites: qrixkuordeath.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/qrixkuor
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #45 #Adorior #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #InvictusProductions #Nov25 #PsycheledicMetal #Qrixkuor #Review #Reviews #SymphonicDeathMetal #SymphonicMetal #TheOrchestraOfTheSilentStars #TheWombOfTheWorld #UKMetal

Qrixkuor – The Womb of the World Review

By Kenstrosity

Four and a half years ago, Qrixkuor’s debut LP Poison Palinopsia took me by complete surprise, shoving its way inexorably towards a #3 spot on my Top Ten(ish) of 2021. Merging elements of psychedelia, black-and-white horror/thriller OSTs, and cavernous death metal into one gnarled abomination, the UK duo evokes an ever-contorting grotesquery put to music. After 2022’s follow-up EP Zoetrope, which left me cold by comparison, I waited with bated, anxious breath for the next long-form opus. At long last it looms just over the horizon, The Womb of the World.

Two key differences distinguish The Womb of the World from Poison Palinopsia. Firstly, it consists of four epics instead of two, clocking in at a comparable net runtime of 50 minutes. Secondly, Qrixkuor’s trademark orchestrations are performed by The Orchestra of the Silent Stars, which means every instrument and voice you hear is the genuine article. From there, much of the sound and style you’ve heard from Qrixkuor before carries over to today. Cavernous, horrific, bizarre and beautiful, The Womb of the World splits open a cosmic gash from which endless unknowable terrors spill forth in uncontrolled hemorrhage. Head-spinning arpeggios, cascading chromatics, unrelenting riff barrages, and dramatic orchestral hysteria coalesce into a barely ordered chaos that tests my sanity with every phrase. A deformed maze of unhinged twangs, discordant choirs, and reckless blasts guides me but refuses to hold my hand, leaving me to get lost in a miasma of ghastly visions the likes of which only nightmares conjure. With this deeply disturbing methodology, Qrixkuor once again invokes a singular beauty from viscous tar most foul.

Just as was the case for Poison Palinopsia, The Womb of the World isn’t a record of immediacy, but rather one of tricky depth and exceptional layering. With every revisit, compelled as I am to return to something as disturbingly alluring as this, new petals unfurl, additional barbs prick the skin, and my mind falls further down Qrixkuor’s abyss. One example out of countless multitudes, epic 17-minute closer “The Womb of the World” disguises vampiric organs underneath glistening strings and serrated death metal riffs and rhythms. Eventually, those more dominant elements spread out, allowing dramatic pipes to fill the void left between; only to be once more superseded not only by a prolonged and intensely satisfying guitar solo that I’d sooner expect from a much sleazier act, but also the record’s most ascendant orchestral climax. In another case, a torturous chaos howling throughout “And You Shall Know Perdition as Your Shrine” obfuscates all forms that would dare stand behind it, but as the perilous brambles shift and writhe, I start to see an underlying order emanating from within. Suddenly, guest vocalist Jaded Lungs’ (Adorior) hellish utterances and S’s complex guitar work and lush orchestrations ring with a definition and clarity I couldn’t acquire before. That gentle order which Qrixkuor wields so well ensures that The Womb of the World twists and slides through such tumultuous environs as these with uncannily fluidity—act to act, song to song, verse to verse, measure to measure—leaving behind nary a single wasted second.

The Womb of the World is undeniably memorable in a way Poison Palinopsia never quite achieved. I am loath to call anything Qrixkuor pens accessible, but opener “So Spoke the Silent Stars” launches the record with such incredible power and propulsion—exhibiting, largely through D’s fantastic drum performance, a deathly muscularity fortified by the grace and flexibility of a far more lithe and lean figure—that it embeds deep within my psyche. “Slithering Serendipity” pulls off the same feat, albeit through a more emotional appeal. Emotive and exuberant soloing, inspired choir bursts, and deceptively simple lead-guitar/piano core melodies peel back the calloused flesh that shields The Womb of the World’s bleeding heart. Thus, it invites me to fall hopelessly in love with that which should revolt and repulse. Whatever flaws that seemed to exist up to that point fall away into nothingness, made meaningless by the passion and commitment Qrixkuor poured into every curled note.

But I must remember, flaws are the essence of true beauty. For The Womb of the World, those flaws are more often than not ones of production as opposed to performance. Most notably, the drums. D’s performance is nothing short of staggering, but his snare is muffled, his cymbals a touch glassy for my taste, and his bass drum just muddy enough to congeal in moments of extreme rapidity. Yet, it’s hard to imagine that The Womb of the World would sound the way it should if Qrixkuor erased those blemishes. In any case, it’s safe to say that Qrixkuor outdid themselves. Their sound and style won’t find fans in every corner. In fact, I’d go so far as to say The Womb of the World is liable to weed out prudish listeners more harshly than Poison Palinopsia already had. But it is an unqualified success all the same, a mastapeece for those to whom sanity is immaterial. Should you be of that sort, The Womb of the World is essential.

Rating: Excellent!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Invictus Productions
Websites: qrixkuordeath.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/qrixkuor
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #45 #Adorior #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #InvictusProductions #Nov25 #PsycheledicMetal #Qrixkuor #Review #Reviews #SymphonicDeathMetal #SymphonicMetal #TheOrchestraOfTheSilentStars #TheWombOfTheWorld #UKMetal

Qrixkuor – The Womb of the World Review

By Kenstrosity

Four and a half years ago, Qrixkuor’s debut LP Poison Palinopsia took me by complete surprise, shoving its way inexorably towards a #3 spot on my Top Ten(ish) of 2021. Merging elements of psychedelia, black-and-white horror/thriller OSTs, and cavernous death metal into one gnarled abomination, the UK duo evokes an ever-contorting grotesquery put to music. After 2022’s follow-up EP Zoetrope, which left me cold by comparison, I waited with bated, anxious breath for the next long-form opus. At long last it looms just over the horizon, The Womb of the World.

Two key differences distinguish The Womb of the World from Poison Palinopsia. Firstly, it consists of four epics instead of two, clocking in at a comparable net runtime of 50 minutes. Secondly, Qrixkuor’s trademark orchestrations are performed by The Orchestra of the Silent Stars, which means every instrument and voice you hear is the genuine article. From there, much of the sound and style you’ve heard from Qrixkuor before carries over to today. Cavernous, horrific, bizarre and beautiful, The Womb of the World splits open a cosmic gash from which endless unknowable terrors spill forth in uncontrolled hemorrhage. Head-spinning arpeggios, cascading chromatics, unrelenting riff barrages, and dramatic orchestral hysteria coalesce into a barely ordered chaos that tests my sanity with every phrase. A deformed maze of unhinged twangs, discordant choirs, and reckless blasts guides me but refuses to hold my hand, leaving me to get lost in a miasma of ghastly visions the likes of which only nightmares conjure. With this deeply disturbing methodology, Qrixkuor once again invokes a singular beauty from viscous tar most foul.

Just as was the case for Poison Palinopsia, The Womb of the World isn’t a record of immediacy, but rather one of tricky depth and exceptional layering. With every revisit, compelled as I am to return to something as disturbingly alluring as this, new petals unfurl, additional barbs prick the skin, and my mind falls further down Qrixkuor’s abyss. One example out of countless multitudes, epic 17-minute closer “The Womb of the World” disguises vampiric organs underneath glistening strings and serrated death metal riffs and rhythms. Eventually, those more dominant elements spread out, allowing dramatic pipes to fill the void left between; only to be once more superseded not only by a prolonged and intensely satisfying guitar solo that I’d sooner expect from a much sleazier act, but also the record’s most ascendant orchestral climax. In another case, a torturous chaos howling throughout “And You Shall Know Perdition as Your Shrine” obfuscates all forms that would dare stand behind it, but as the perilous brambles shift and writhe, I start to see an underlying order emanating from within. Suddenly, guest vocalist Jaded Lungs’ (Adorior) hellish utterances and S’s complex guitar work and lush orchestrations ring with a definition and clarity I couldn’t acquire before. That gentle order which Qrixkuor wields so well ensures that The Womb of the World twists and slides through such tumultuous environs as these with uncannily fluidity—act to act, song to song, verse to verse, measure to measure—leaving behind nary a single wasted second.

The Womb of the World is undeniably memorable in a way Poison Palinopsia never quite achieved. I am loath to call anything Qrixkuor pens accessible, but opener “So Spoke the Silent Stars” launches the record with such incredible power and propulsion—exhibiting, largely through D’s fantastic drum performance, a deathly muscularity fortified by the grace and flexibility of a far more lithe and lean figure—that it embeds deep within my psyche. “Slithering Serendipity” pulls off the same feat, albeit through a more emotional appeal. Emotive and exuberant soloing, inspired choir bursts, and deceptively simple lead-guitar/piano core melodies peel back the calloused flesh that shields The Womb of the World’s bleeding heart. Thus, it invites me to fall hopelessly in love with that which should revolt and repulse. Whatever flaws that seemed to exist up to that point fall away into nothingness, made meaningless by the passion and commitment Qrixkuor poured into every curled note.

But I must remember, flaws are the essence of true beauty. For The Womb of the World, those flaws are more often than not ones of production as opposed to performance. Most notably, the drums. D’s performance is nothing short of staggering, but his snare is muffled, his cymbals a touch glassy for my taste, and his bass drum just muddy enough to congeal in moments of extreme rapidity. Yet, it’s hard to imagine that The Womb of the World would sound the way it should if Qrixkuor erased those blemishes. In any case, it’s safe to say that Qrixkuor outdid themselves. Their sound and style won’t find fans in every corner. In fact, I’d go so far as to say The Womb of the World is liable to weed out prudish listeners more harshly than Poison Palinopsia already had. But it is an unqualified success all the same, a mastapeece for those to whom sanity is immaterial. Should you be of that sort, The Womb of the World is essential.

Rating: Excellent!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Invictus Productions
Websites: qrixkuordeath.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/qrixkuor
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #45 #Adorior #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #InvictusProductions #Nov25 #PsycheledicMetal #Qrixkuor #Review #Reviews #SymphonicDeathMetal #SymphonicMetal #TheOrchestraOfTheSilentStars #TheWombOfTheWorld #UKMetal

The UK's MASTIFF just put out a new EP today, 'For All the Dead Dreams', so I have that #NowPlaying, and it's a great one, of course. I've seen Mastiff described as sludge, doom, or hardcore, but they're a cool mix of.. something crossover-y and I dig it a lot. There's breakdowns. Now THIS is how you do some heavy, brutal (but still melodic, riffy) shit. Behold:

https://mastiffhchc.bandcamp.com/album/for-all-the-dead-dreams

#sludge #UKBands #UKMetal #metal #UKGrind #Mastiff #crossover #hardcore

Paradise Lost – Ascension Review

As a huge fan of the salad days of the “Peaceville Three,” I felt obliged to follow Paradise…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2025 #3.5 #4.0 #Ascension #DoomMetal #DraconianTimes #Entertainment #GothicDoom #Metallica #NuclearBlastRecords #Obsidian #ParadiseLost #review #Reviews #Sep25 #Strigoi #TypeONegative #UK #UKMetal #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/142452/

Paradise Lost – Ascension Review

By Steel Druhm

As a huge fan of the salad days of the “Peaceville Three,” I felt obliged to follow Paradise Lost’s career throughout the 90s as they shifted from their raw death-doom birth through the refined melancholic doom heard on Icon, the Metallica-adjacent, stadium doom of Draconian Times, and into their Depeche Mode fancier period with Host and Believe in Nothing. That last era was a bridge too far for me, and by the time they made their way back to doom on 2005s eponymous release, I had moved on. I only paid casual attention to their output thereafter until 2020s Obsidian. That one was solid enough to get me tentatively back on board, but I didn’t come into Ascension expecting big things, just a solid late-career outing by a group of seasoned gloom-mongers. Ascension functions as a guided tour through the various eras of the band’s 35 year career, and while that could make for a very disjointed listen given the amount of ground Paradise Lost covered over the decades, it feels like a well-catered reunion of dear olde friends. More importantly, it features some of the most consistently impressive songcraft the band’s mustered in years. Age brings a certain wisdom, but sometimes you just catch lightning in a bottle. I’m not looking to overanalyze which got us here, I’m just enjoying the hearse ride.

It doesn’t hurt that Paradise Lost kick things off with one of the most aggressive and heavy songs they’ve churned out in a long time. “Serpent on the Cross” is a massive, murderous slab of doom that kicks all the crypts and tickles the mortician. It’s got mournful harmonies, weighty doom riffs, and the right amount of despair, yet it still comes hard with burly riffs and knocks you upside the head with a memorable refrain. Nick Holmes sounds born again hard, and Greg Macintosh and Aaron Aedy bring tons of heft and emotion to the string bending. This is my favorite Paradise Lost song since their heyday and I can’t stop spinning it. In fact, as my beloved and perpetually hapless N.Y. Jets got pounded into assdust Sunday, they did so to the haunting leads of this charnel beast. This victory is followed by another in the form of “Tyrants Serenade” which hits at the perfect middle ground between their Draconian Times and One Second eras. It even conjures a bit of Type O Negative magic courtesy of Olde Nick’s baritone crooning. This one is an earworm infection waiting to happen, and you should catch it. “Salvation” is the big, epic doom set piece, and it doesn’t disappoint, plodding and heaving for 7 minutes of morose glory while raising the ghosts of vintage Paradise Lost along the way. It even reminds me of Fvneral Fvkk here and there.

With a front half this massive, it was almost inevitable that things would tail off as Ascension moved along, but Paradise Lost holds the slippage to a minimum. “Silence Like the Grave” and and “Diluvium” bring that Metallica-friendly Draconian Times sound back in force for inspired doom stomp and clompers, and even when they revisit their Depeche Mode as on “Sirens,” they keep things just heavy enough to bull through painlessly. What’s so impressive is that even though the band revisits all the familiar hollowed ground, things feel fresh and new rather than recycled. Somehow Ascension manages to avoid filler and there isn’t a track here I’d call weak, though “Sirens” is merely good. At 51 minutes, the album never feels too long or bogged down, and most songs sit in the 4-5 minute window and move along briskly.

I’m high on Nick Holmes’ performance here. He sounds great and as versatile as ever, ranging from sadboi Goth croons to brutal death croaks and all stops in-between. He really gets nasty at times, even sounding downright funeral doomish at points. He’s also got a great sense of where to put the melodic clean breaks for maximum impact. Greg Macintosh and Aaron Aedy outdo themselves with a high-quality collection of riffs that cover a range of moods and styles. They bring the doom hammer down hard on the maximalist cuts like “Serpent on the Cross” and “Salvation,” but also amplify the moody cuts to keep things pulsing with vitality. The subtly morose harmonies win me over, even on the more hard-charging numbers, and the level of writing remains strong with moments of greatness dotting the runtime.

It’s rare a band as long in the tooth as Paradise Lost uncorks a late career album that can stand among the giants in their catalog, but Ascension is one such slippery aberration. It’s the kind of release your brain tells you shouldn’t be as good as it is, but after a week-plus marinating in it, the quality cannot be denied. I’m happy to see a long-running institution like Paradise Lost get another win and show they still have ichor in their cold veins. Ascension indeed!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: paradiselost.co.uk | facebook.com/paradiselostofficial | instagram.com/officialparadiselost
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025

Grymm

So, question: say you’ve been a band for almost 40 years, and 80% of your line-up has remained completely unchanged, save for the near-Spinal Tapification that’s reserved for whoever happens to find themselves on the drum throne.1 You’ve gone from the slowest of death/doom, to near-Metallica heights of superstardom in your home country, to a severe Depeche Mode-influenced left turn, just to wrap yourselves back around through Gothic doom territory and back home to death-doom in the wildest “Peaceville Three” ouroboros ever. You’re also about to release your seventeenth album. With the exceptions of legendary acts, we’re usually lucky to see bands craft seven albums, let alone seventeen. So what do you do to keep yourselves fresh and motivated? What do you bring to the party that will not only excite your longtime fanbase, but also hopefully bring in some fresh faces to your music?

If you’re Paradise Lost, you simply condense all of your experiences into a singular vision, and write your best collection of songs to date. Ascension lives up to the promise of its name, given how much of this album soars above its peers in both heft and hook. From the opening riff of “Serpent of the Cross” to the fading of the closing guitar solo in “The Precipice,” 51 minutes of doom metal have never flown by so damn fast before, nor would it had the material been written by less experienced hands. Since a good portion of this album is DOOOOOOM (in all caps-locked letters, complete with at least 6 O’s), that’s no easy feat.

And how DOOOOOOM are we talking? Take third track (and album highlight) “Salvation.” Between the foreboding riffs of Gregor Mackintosh and Aaron Aedy, Mackintosh’s mournful melodies, and new/former drummer Guido Zima Montanarini guiding the back-end like a funeral march, “Salvation” could have easily fit in on Strigoi’s last album had it not been for Nick Holmes’ vocal performance, whether it’s in his cavernous growls, his anguished mid-range cleans during the chorus, or even the impressive higher-ranged singing towards the end. “Salvation” presents itself as a masterclass in epic doom/death musicianship and songwriting, and one that’s making a mad run for Song o’ the Year honors come December.

It’s not like there aren’t any other challengers for that spot on Ascension, either. Late album scorcher “Diluvium” starts off as a plodding, downtrodden number, before riffing up a storm towards the song’s latter half, with Mackintosh cutting loose with solo after solo. “Lay a Wreath Upon the World,” one of the few Paradise Lost numbers to feature an acoustic guitar, pulls you in with hypnotic female wailing and pensive atmosphere. “Silence Like the Grave” and “Tyrant’s Serenade” bring the speed up just enough, acting as energizing mood-setters for the album’s front half. And that’s the only qualm I really have with the album; the album feels front-loaded with the faster numbers, with the album’s second half being more moody and slower. There’s not a song on here I would consider to be “filler,” but it’s an observation that stuck around even after the album’s wrapped up.

Paradise Lost have every right to dial it in right now, having cemented themselves as legends of death/doom metal. Thank fuck they didn’t, though, as Ascension has comfortably nestled itself amongst my top five favorite Paradise Lost albums, acting as a strong thread between the unfuckwithable Draconian Times, their underrated dark horse Faith Divides Us – Death Unites Us, and their return to the grave in The Plague Within. Who would have thought that, by reaching into their vault of classic albums, they would not only put together something fresh and timeless, but also make a strong case for one of their best ever? Easily a Top Ten contender, and one of the year’s best doom metal albums, bar none.

Rating: 4.0/5.0

#2025 #35 #40 #Ascension #DoomMetal #DraconianTimes #GothicDoom #Metallica #NuclearBlastRecords #Obsidian #ParadiseLost #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #Strigoi #TypeONegative #UKMetal

Paradise Lost – Ascension Review

By Steel Druhm

As a huge fan of the salad days of the “Peaceville Three,” I felt obliged to follow Paradise Lost’s career throughout the 90s as they shifted from their raw death-doom birth through the refined melancholic doom heard on Icon, the Metallica-adjacent, stadium doom of Draconian Times, and into their Depeche Mode fancier period with Host and Believe in Nothing. That last era was a bridge too far for me, and by the time they made their way back to doom on 2005s eponymous release, I had moved on. I only paid casual attention to their output thereafter until 2020s Obsidian. That one was solid enough to get me tentatively back on board, but I didn’t come into Ascension expecting big things, just a solid late-career outing by a group of seasoned gloom-mongers. Ascension functions as a guided tour through the various eras of the band’s 35 year career, and while that could make for a very disjointed listen given the amount of ground Paradise Lost covered over the decades, it feels like a well-catered reunion of dear olde friends. More importantly, it features some of the most consistently impressive songcraft the band’s mustered in years. Age brings a certain wisdom, but sometimes you just catch lightning in a bottle. I’m not looking to overanalyze which got us here, I’m just enjoying the hearse ride.

It doesn’t hurt that Paradise Lost kick things off with one of the most aggressive and heavy songs they’ve churned out in a long time. “Serpent on the Cross” is a massive, murderous slab of doom that kicks all the crypts and tickles the mortician. It’s got mournful harmonies, weighty doom riffs, and the right amount of despair, yet it still comes hard with burly riffs and knocks you upside the head with a memorable refrain. Nick Holmes sounds born again hard, and Greg Macintosh and Aaron Aedy bring tons of heft and emotion to the string bending. This is my favorite Paradise Lost song since their heyday and I can’t stop spinning it. In fact, as my beloved and perpetually hapless N.Y. Jets got pounded into assdust Sunday, they did so to the haunting leads of this charnel beast. This victory is followed by another in the form of “Tyrants Serenade” which hits at the perfect middle ground between their Draconian Times and One Second eras. It even conjures a bit of Type O Negative magic courtesy of Olde Nick’s baritone crooning. This one is an earworm infection waiting to happen, and you should catch it. “Salvation” is the big, epic doom set piece, and it doesn’t disappoint, plodding and heaving for 7 minutes of morose glory while raising the ghosts of vintage Paradise Lost along the way. It even reminds me of Fvneral Fvkk here and there.

With a front half this massive, it was almost inevitable that things would tail off as Ascension moved along, but Paradise Lost holds the slippage to a minimum. “Silence Like the Grave” and and “Diluvium” bring that Metallica-friendly Draconian Times sound back in force for inspired doom stomp and clompers, and even when they revisit their Depeche Mode as on “Sirens,” they keep things just heavy enough to bull through painlessly. What’s so impressive is that even though the band revisits all the familiar hollowed ground, things feel fresh and new rather than recycled. Somehow Ascension manages to avoid filler and there isn’t a track here I’d call weak, though “Sirens” is merely good. At 51 minutes, the album never feels too long or bogged down, and most songs sit in the 4-5 minute window and move along briskly.

I’m high on Nick Holmes’ performance here. He sounds great and as versatile as ever, ranging from sadboi Goth croons to brutal death croaks and all stops in-between. He really gets nasty at times, even sounding downright funeral doomish at points. He’s also got a great sense of where to put the melodic clean breaks for maximum impact. Greg Macintosh and Aaron Aedy outdo themselves with a high-quality collection of riffs that cover a range of moods and styles. They bring the doom hammer down hard on the maximalist cuts like “Serpent on the Cross” and “Salvation,” but also amplify the moody cuts to keep things pulsing with vitality. The subtly morose harmonies win me over, even on the more hard-charging numbers, and the level of writing remains strong with moments of greatness dotting the runtime.

It’s rare a band as long in the tooth as Paradise Lost uncorks a late career album that can stand among the giants in their catalog, but Ascension is one such slippery aberration. It’s the kind of release your brain tells you shouldn’t be as good as it is, but after a week-plus marinating in it, the quality cannot be denied. I’m happy to see a long-running institution like Paradise Lost get another win and show they still have ichor in their cold veins. Ascension indeed!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: paradiselost.co.uk | facebook.com/paradiselostofficial | instagram.com/officialparadiselost
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025

Grymm

So, question: say you’ve been a band for almost 40 years, and 80% of your line-up has remained completely unchanged, save for the near-Spinal Tapification that’s reserved for whoever happens to find themselves on the drum throne.1 You’ve gone from the slowest of death/doom, to near-Metallica heights of superstardom in your home country, to a severe Depeche Mode-influenced left turn, just to wrap yourselves back around through Gothic doom territory and back home to death-doom in the wildest “Peaceville Three” ouroboros ever. You’re also about to release your seventeenth album. With the exceptions of legendary acts, we’re usually lucky to see bands craft seven albums, let alone seventeen. So what do you do to keep yourselves fresh and motivated? What do you bring to the party that will not only excite your longtime fanbase, but also hopefully bring in some fresh faces to your music?

If you’re Paradise Lost, you simply condense all of your experiences into a singular vision, and write your best collection of songs to date. Ascension lives up to the promise of its name, given how much of this album soars above its peers in both heft and hook. From the opening riff of “Serpent of the Cross” to the fading of the closing guitar solo in “The Precipice,” 51 minutes of doom metal have never flown by so damn fast before, nor would it had the material been written by less experienced hands. Since a good portion of this album is DOOOOOOM (in all caps-locked letters, complete with at least 6 O’s), that’s no easy feat.

And how DOOOOOOM are we talking? Take third track (and album highlight) “Salvation.” Between the foreboding riffs of Gregor Mackintosh and Aaron Aedy, Mackintosh’s mournful melodies, and new/former drummer Guido Zima Montanarini guiding the back-end like a funeral march, “Salvation” could have easily fit in on Strigoi’s last album had it not been for Nick Holmes’ vocal performance, whether it’s in his cavernous growls, his anguished mid-range cleans during the chorus, or even the impressive higher-ranged singing towards the end. “Salvation” presents itself as a masterclass in epic doom/death musicianship and songwriting, and one that’s making a mad run for Song o’ the Year honors come December.

It’s not like there aren’t any other challengers for that spot on Ascension, either. Late album scorcher “Diluvium” starts off as a plodding, downtrodden number, before riffing up a storm towards the song’s latter half, with Mackintosh cutting loose with solo after solo. “Lay a Wreath Upon the World,” one of the few Paradise Lost numbers to feature an acoustic guitar, pulls you in with hypnotic female wailing and pensive atmosphere. “Silence Like the Grave” and “Tyrant’s Serenade” bring the speed up just enough, acting as energizing mood-setters for the album’s front half. And that’s the only qualm I really have with the album; the album feels front-loaded with the faster numbers, with the album’s second half being more moody and slower. There’s not a song on here I would consider to be “filler,” but it’s an observation that stuck around even after the album’s wrapped up.

Paradise Lost have every right to dial it in right now, having cemented themselves as legends of death/doom metal. Thank fuck they didn’t, though, as Ascension has comfortably nestled itself amongst my top five favorite Paradise Lost albums, acting as a strong thread between the unfuckwithable Draconian Times, their underrated dark horse Faith Divides Us – Death Unites Us, and their return to the grave in The Plague Within. Who would have thought that, by reaching into their vault of classic albums, they would not only put together something fresh and timeless, but also make a strong case for one of their best ever? Easily a Top Ten contender, and one of the year’s best doom metal albums, bar none.

Rating: 4.0/5.0

#2025 #35 #40 #Ascension #DoomMetal #DraconianTimes #GothicDoom #Metallica #NuclearBlastRecords #Obsidian #ParadiseLost #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #Strigoi #TypeONegative #UKMetal

Paradise Lost – Ascension Review

By Steel Druhm

As a huge fan of the salad days of the “Peaceville Three,” I felt obliged to follow Paradise Lost’s career throughout the 90s as they shifted from their raw death-doom birth through the refined melancholic doom heard on Icon, the Metallica-adjacent, stadium doom of Draconian Times, and into their Depeche Mode fancier period with Host and Believe in Nothing. That last era was a bridge too far for me, and by the time they made their way back to doom on 2005s eponymous release, I had moved on. I only paid casual attention to their output thereafter until 2020s Obsidian. That one was solid enough to get me tentatively back on board, but I didn’t come into Ascension expecting big things, just a solid late-career outing by a group of seasoned gloom-mongers. Ascension functions as a guided tour through the various eras of the band’s 35 year career, and while that could make for a very disjointed listen given the amount of ground Paradise Lost covered over the decades, it feels like a well-catered reunion of dear olde friends. More importantly, it features some of the most consistently impressive songcraft the band’s mustered in years. Age brings a certain wisdom, but sometimes you just catch lightning in a bottle. I’m not looking to overanalyze which got us here, I’m just enjoying the hearse ride.

It doesn’t hurt that Paradise Lost kick things off with one of the most aggressive and heavy songs they’ve churned out in a long time. “Serpent on the Cross” is a massive, murderous slab of doom that kicks all the crypts and tickles the mortician. It’s got mournful harmonies, weighty doom riffs, and the right amount of despair, yet it still comes hard with burly riffs and knocks you upside the head with a memorable refrain. Nick Holmes sounds born again hard, and Greg Macintosh and Aaron Aedy bring tons of heft and emotion to the string bending. This is my favorite Paradise Lost song since their heyday and I can’t stop spinning it. In fact, as my beloved and perpetually hapless N.Y. Jets got pounded into assdust Sunday, they did so to the haunting leads of this charnel beast. This victory is followed by another in the form of “Tyrants Serenade” which hits at the perfect middle ground between their Draconian Times and One Second eras. It even conjures a bit of Type O Negative magic courtesy of Olde Nick’s baritone crooning. This one is an earworm infection waiting to happen, and you should catch it. “Salvation” is the big, epic doom set piece, and it doesn’t disappoint, plodding and heaving for 7 minutes of morose glory while raising the ghosts of vintage Paradise Lost along the way. It even reminds me of Fvneral Fvkk here and there.

With a front half this massive, it was almost inevitable that things would tail off as Ascension moved along, but Paradise Lost holds the slippage to a minimum. “Silence Like the Grave” and and “Diluvium” bring that Metallica-friendly Draconian Times sound back in force for inspired doom stomp and clompers, and even when they revisit their Depeche Mode as on “Sirens,” they keep things just heavy enough to bull through painlessly. What’s so impressive is that even though the band revisits all the familiar hollowed ground, things feel fresh and new rather than recycled. Somehow Ascension manages to avoid filler and there isn’t a track here I’d call weak, though “Sirens” is merely good. At 51 minutes, the album never feels too long or bogged down, and most songs sit in the 4-5 minute window and move along briskly.

I’m high on Nick Holmes’ performance here. He sounds great and as versatile as ever, ranging from sadboi Goth croons to brutal death croaks and all stops in-between. He really gets nasty at times, even sounding downright funeral doomish at points. He’s also got a great sense of where to put the melodic clean breaks for maximum impact. Greg Macintosh and Aaron Aedy outdo themselves with a high-quality collection of riffs that cover a range of moods and styles. They bring the doom hammer down hard on the maximalist cuts like “Serpent on the Cross” and “Salvation,” but also amplify the moody cuts to keep things pulsing with vitality. The subtly morose harmonies win me over, even on the more hard-charging numbers, and the level of writing remains strong with moments of greatness dotting the runtime.

It’s rare a band as long in the tooth as Paradise Lost uncorks a late career album that can stand among the giants in their catalog, but Ascension is one such slippery aberration. It’s the kind of release your brain tells you shouldn’t be as good as it is, but after a week-plus marinating in it, the quality cannot be denied. I’m happy to see a long-running institution like Paradise Lost get another win and show they still have ichor in their cold veins. Ascension indeed!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: paradiselost.co.uk | facebook.com/paradiselostofficial | instagram.com/officialparadiselost
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025

Grymm

So, question: say you’ve been a band for almost 40 years, and 80% of your line-up has remained completely unchanged, save for the near-Spinal Tapification that’s reserved for whoever happens to find themselves on the drum throne.1 You’ve gone from the slowest of death/doom, to near-Metallica heights of superstardom in your home country, to a severe Depeche Mode-influenced left turn, just to wrap yourselves back around through Gothic doom territory and back home to death-doom in the wildest “Peaceville Three” ouroboros ever. You’re also about to release your seventeenth album. With the exceptions of legendary acts, we’re usually lucky to see bands craft seven albums, let alone seventeen. So what do you do to keep yourselves fresh and motivated? What do you bring to the party that will not only excite your longtime fanbase, but also hopefully bring in some fresh faces to your music?

If you’re Paradise Lost, you simply condense all of your experiences into a singular vision, and write your best collection of songs to date. Ascension lives up to the promise of its name, given how much of this album soars above its peers in both heft and hook. From the opening riff of “Serpent of the Cross” to the fading of the closing guitar solo in “The Precipice,” 51 minutes of doom metal have never flown by so damn fast before, nor would it had the material been written by less experienced hands. Since a good portion of this album is DOOOOOOM (in all caps-locked letters, complete with at least 6 O’s), that’s no easy feat.

And how DOOOOOOM are we talking? Take third track (and album highlight) “Salvation.” Between the foreboding riffs of Gregor Mackintosh and Aaron Aedy, Mackintosh’s mournful melodies, and new/former drummer Guido Zima Montanarini guiding the back-end like a funeral march, “Salvation” could have easily fit in on Strigoi’s last album had it not been for Nick Holmes’ vocal performance, whether it’s in his cavernous growls, his anguished mid-range cleans during the chorus, or even the impressive higher-ranged singing towards the end. “Salvation” presents itself as a masterclass in epic doom/death musicianship and songwriting, and one that’s making a mad run for Song o’ the Year honors come December.

It’s not like there aren’t any other challengers for that spot on Ascension, either. Late album scorcher “Diluvium” starts off as a plodding, downtrodden number, before riffing up a storm towards the song’s latter half, with Mackintosh cutting loose with solo after solo. “Lay a Wreath Upon the World,” one of the few Paradise Lost numbers to feature an acoustic guitar, pulls you in with hypnotic female wailing and pensive atmosphere. “Silence Like the Grave” and “Tyrant’s Serenade” bring the speed up just enough, acting as energizing mood-setters for the album’s front half. And that’s the only qualm I really have with the album; the album feels front-loaded with the faster numbers, with the album’s second half being more moody and slower. There’s not a song on here I would consider to be “filler,” but it’s an observation that stuck around even after the album’s wrapped up.

Paradise Lost have every right to dial it in right now, having cemented themselves as legends of death/doom metal. Thank fuck they didn’t, though, as Ascension has comfortably nestled itself amongst my top five favorite Paradise Lost albums, acting as a strong thread between the unfuckwithable Draconian Times, their underrated dark horse Faith Divides Us – Death Unites Us, and their return to the grave in The Plague Within. Who would have thought that, by reaching into their vault of classic albums, they would not only put together something fresh and timeless, but also make a strong case for one of their best ever? Easily a Top Ten contender, and one of the year’s best doom metal albums, bar none.

Rating: 4.0/5.0

#2025 #35 #40 #Ascension #DoomMetal #DraconianTimes #GothicDoom #Metallica #NuclearBlastRecords #Obsidian #ParadiseLost #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #Strigoi #TypeONegative #UKMetal