#ukmetal — Public Fediverse posts

Since the last Filter dropped, it still hasn’t stopped raining and storming in my neck of the woods. Consequently, my minions trudge evermore through the thin sheet metal of our ducts as the thunder rattles everything like so many dice in a tabletop nerd’s clutches.1 Yet I must press them and push them, for we have quotas to meet and ravenous appetites to sate.

So it is with shaky hands and discombobulated craniums that my grunts hand over the goods. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Thrashed Thrall

Ascended Master // Crepuscular Gloom [May 8th, 2026 – Self Released]

Death thrash is best thrash, if you ask this sponge. Something about this unholy combo really rustles my jimmies, especially when its executed with great speed and riff-centered fervor. Cincinnati’s Ascended Master nail that combination right into the grave, boasting a sound that’s three parts Death, one part Atheist, and a pinch of Blood Red Throne. With a sense of groove that gives barnburners “Blood Spilled Upon the Stars,” “Crepuscular Gloom,” and rabid closer “Xenopaleontology” a deadly swagger liable to cause fierce whiplash in all who would headbang to it, debut LP Crepuscular Gloom” is a record pumped full of testosterone and adrenaline. Speedy rippers like “Midnight Mother” and “Ghoul Queen” put the pedal to the metal with a ferocity more commonly associated with Kvaen or Hellripper in the modern pantheon, but the record’s natural engineering and coherent screams hark to earlier times where Death reigned supreme in the scene. However, it would be inaccurate to call it pure worship. Ascended Master have an intense personality and a particular ferocity that allows Crepuscular Gloom to integrate smoothly into their respective category without blending into the crowd. As their career develops from this point, I expect we’ll see their identity bloom and rise with greater distinction, further setting them apart and threatening year-end lists all around. Just wait, you’ll see!

ClarkKent’s Prehistoric Pulls

Ilienses Tree // Toward the Storm [May 1st, 2026 – Meuse Music Records]

Ilienses Tree sow their roots deep into the island the band originates from—Sardinia, just off the coast of Italy. Their name, Ilienses, refers to an ancient Nuragic civilization that, during the Bronze Age, built impressive stone tower structures that still stand today. While the band isn’t nearly so old, their second album, Toward the Storm, dabbles in the sort of slow, deliberate doom that speaks of the patience of those ancient ruins. They lean towards a style of funeral doom that has the brutal power of My Dying Bride, but their record also contains the unpredictable dynamic drumming of Oromet and sneaks into speedier death/doom territory akin to Paradise Lost and Novembers Doom. Ilienses Tree have a mastery over melancholic lead riffs, such as the one that opens “To Not Be Forgotten.” “Sudden Rain” flexes the band’s creative muscle most impressively. Beginning in a slow burn and anchored by a poignant guitar lead, the song has a sudden burst of energy, turns in a lovely duet between arpeggiated riffs and bass, and features several more memorable and distinct guitar leads. Though the songs average nine minutes, they fit neatly into a 38-minute record, and thanks to progressive structures, they never feel overlong. If you’d like some music that simultaneously hits you in the feels and provides a shot of adrenaline, then go towards, not away from, this storm.

Anna Fiori // Metztli [May 21st, 2026 – Self Released]

Sometimes symphonic metal bands grow a touch stale from a failure to innovate, relying too heavily on the gimmick of symphonic instruments. Anna Fiori, however, has created something pretty special, with a Mexican/Aztec twist on the genre. Her band mixes “pre-Hispanic instrumentation” with cinematic symphonics and heavy guitars to create thrilling high-energy music. While some songs hit a more poppy Beyond the Black mold (“En El Vacio”), others take a longer-form route. The nine-minute “Luna Llena (Xiki Noeso)” blends indigenous chants and flutes with orchestral elements that sometimes sound like an exciting score to a whimsical adventure film. The highlight, “Luna Menguante (Nimotemak),” contains a mix of cool riffs, flutes, and blast beats before taking us on a bonkers ride involving operatic singing, off-kilter pianos, a few solos, and perhaps the summoning of a demon or two. While the song compositions are tons of fun, Fiori’s performance ties it all together. She sings in the sweet poppy manner of Epica’s Simone Simons, the operatic style of many a Therion singer, and even some growls in the spirit of Seven Spires’s Adrienne Cowen, if not quite her power. Fiori even briefly raps on a couple of tracks, with a pretty impressive section on the outro track, “Tetzahuitl, Pt. 2: El Origen,” and goes off-script with an infectious laugh on “Entre Mil Voces.” Clearly she’s having a lot of fun. Metztli hits some of the familiar symphonic notes while injecting enough personality of its own to make for an entertaining, and sometimes wild, ride.

Grin Reaper’s Spring Fling

Beyond the Veil // Oblivion [May 1st, 2026 – Wormholedeath Records]

There’s little online information about Tokyo prog metallers Beyond the Veil,2 and while I don’t recall how I stumbled across debut Oblivion, I’m glad I did. Upon listening, I was immediately enamored by their familiar yet enchanting blend of drama and technicality. Fans of Opeth and Dream Theater will uncover a trove of unapologetic prog where Beyond the Veil weaves gorgeously conceived instrumentation into intricate compositions. Oblivion also embraces long-form arrangements, sporting six tracks ranging between seven-and-a-half and sixteen minutes each. Credit to Beyond the Veil, though, because even with such robust runtimes totaling over an hour, Oblivion never feels repetitive or bankrupt of ideas. Quite the opposite, in fact, as each listen reveals new knots to untangle and coils to unwind. Perhaps the facet I’ve come to appreciate the most as I revisit Oblivion is Beyond the Veil’s merger of piano, mellotron, and orchestrations with guitar, bass, and drums. They’re hardly the first band to do this, but each song sounds well-attuned to incorporating the right instrument for the right part rather than spotlighting heavy-handed wankery, allowing Oblivion to soar. While Beyond the Veil doesn’t break the mold with this one, getting lost in Oblivion never sounded so sweet.

Lago // Vigil [May 8th, 2026 – Everlasting Spew Records]

Vigil introduced me to Lago and their infectiously abrasive death metal, and this album is forty-two minutes of unhinged brutality flecked with melody. The blood of Immolation, Morbid Angel, and Incantation pumps through Lago’s veins, delivering unapologetic tangles of dissonant, jangling guitars, fuming blast beats, and murky bass runs beneath Cole Jacobsen’s devilishly demented gutturals. Lago’s brew is potent stuff, swirling and churning with caustic acid that will leave your eardrums scarred and cowed with nary a moment wasted. Complimenting the devastating filth Lago dredges is Gus Barr’s warbling lead guitar, which cuts through the grime with off-kilter shredding. “Behold, Ruin” and “Initiation Rite” hit with the immediacy and aplomb of Immolation, lurching onwards with Brian Miller’s timekeeping straight out of Close to a World Below’s playbook. Meanwhile, “Procession into Slaughter” and “The Land Was a Desert” launch into Azagthoth-tinged, otherworldly riffs. Everything about Lago screams danger, yet once the blood starts flowing it’s impossible to turn away from their murderously addictive violence. Once Vigil has its hooks in you, you won’t want them to Lago.

Redshift // Down the Wire [May 29th, 2026 – Pale Wizard Records]

As a massive Rush fan, Redshift’s Down the Wire immediately caught my attention with ample parallels. A power trio wielding buttery smooth bass lines, Lifeson-leaning chords, and Tiago Martins’ tender tenor call to mind Canada’s greatest export for all the right reasons. Yet Bath, England’s Redshift is more than a Rush clone, and on Down the Wire they bounce and whip in syncopated flurries and chromatic runs while dabbling with vocoded vocals and deathly roars. As the best prog does, Redshift explores vast territory in a commensurately brief runtime. Opener “The Routine” hits the Rush influence hard and early, but “The Clown” draws upon Synchestra-era Devin Townsend kookiness while “The Rogue” dabbles in Yesified eclecticism and even features guest keys from Derek Sherinian (ex-Dream Theater, ex-Yngwie Malmsteen). One thing Redshift steers away from is the self-seriousness associated with a lot of prog, and Down the Wire radiates a pervasive sense of fun. Trumpets and samba-coded melodies enliven “The Rogue” while “The Singer” assaults with fierce growls, wicked solos, and perfectly balanced instrumental interplay. Down the Wire fires on all cylinders, scorching with progressive songwriting and so much replayability that I regret not getting the chance to write a review in full. If you’re Down to the Wire and need a prog fix quickly, Redshift is a clever choice that won’t disappoint.

Spicie Forrest’s Nostalgic Nugget

Haste the Day // Dissenter [May 1st, 2026 – Solid State Records]

I haven’t heard the name Haste the Day since 2008. At the time, I was on the tail end of my metalcore phase and pushing into heavier styles, so while I recognized their quality, I didn’t latch on to them as I did other acts of their ilk. It’s a shame, because Dissenter is the sound of my adolescence. Slinging the same emo-flavored metalcore as early As I Lay Dying and August Burns Red, the Indianapolis-based six-piece offers 39 minutes of beautifully aching nostalgia. Stephen Keech’s lead vocals sound pushed and strained (complimentary), evoking the emotion of early Linkin Park (“Shallows,” “Grave”). Guitarists Scott Whelan, Brennan Chaulk, and Dave Krysl are so in sync, delivering stellar layered riffs and leads felt in the soul (“Burn”). When Michael Murphy’s bass comes to the fore, as on “Liminal,” he brings a heaviness and intensity that hurtles me back to middle school like it was just yesterday. Dissenter is a bit heavier and faster on the front end, but even the not-quite-overwrought power ballads of the back half maintain their drive and pacing thanks to Giuseppe Capolupo’s kit work (“Adrift,” “Escape”). For those of us who cut our teeth on acts like Haste the Day, late-career and comeback albums can be an anxious affair, but I’m happy to report that Dissenter is a worthy walk down memory lane.

When it comes to discerning the difference between doom and stoner metal, I subscribe to the Ned Flanders school of thought. While doom tends towards darker atmospheres at a slower pace, stoner metal generally grooves with a chiller vibe. Now, there are (at least two) exceptions, and it gets kind of tricky, one of which is the compound stoner-doom genre. This label nicely fits Druidess, who have become a staple of the UK doom and stoner scenes since the release of their 2024 EP, Hermits and Mandrakes. Two years later, this Newcastle upon Tyne quartet has finally dropped its independently-released debut LP, Trip Meadow. Whether a British stoner-doom scenester or a newcomer, you’re surely wondering whether Druidess’s musical trip feels like strolling through a meadow or slogging through a jungle.

Druidess travel through the crevices of Mount Doom and the streets of Stonerville, but they also haunt the alleys of Psychedelphia. Guitarist Daniel Downing powers this English engine, doling out an array of Sabbathian riffs that brood, gallop, and descend, often in the same song (“A Forest Witch’s Daughter”). Beneath Downing is drummer Sam Armstrong, who hits hard but sprinkles in peppery jazz accents, keeping things rhythmically dynamic (“Descended from Giants”). The highlight, however, is vocalist Shonagh Brown, who knows how to hold a straightforward verse and develop a sticky chorus (“Knightingales”). Brown claims Joan Jett (The Runaways) as a major influence, but I also hear Laura Donnelly (King Witch) in her penchant for effortless power.1 Draping Druidess’s stoner-doom core in a psychedelic haze is keyboardist James Hill, whose organ plinks owe a debt of gratitude to The Doors while recalling a contemporary band like Green Lung. If the presence of organ sounds insufficiently psychedelic, then you’ll be glad to hear that a saxophone occasionally moans melancholic melodies2 (“Trip Meadow,” “A Witches’ Sabbath”). Aesthetically and performance-wise, Trip Meadow brings home the goods.

The songwriting, however, sometimes sails the Inconsistent Sea. The songs hovering around 4 minutes deliver memorable jolts of Iommian riffs and Jettian choruses (“Mandragora,” “The Hermit of Druid’s Temple”). Even when Druidess expand to the 6–7 minute range, they usually do a good job balancing subdued excursions and tempo shifts with solid songcraft (“The Forest Witch’s Daughter,” “A Witches’ Sabbath”). A few tracks, however, could’ve definitely been pared down, the major example being the 10-minute title track. “Trip Meadow” opens with a sultry saxophone groove before reducing to an ominous organ line obliterated by a crushing doom riff. From there, it takes too long for the song to get to its good (not great) chorus. At around the 8-minute mark, however, Druidess goes off on gothic riff variations, variations that would’ve hit even harder were they to have come sooner.

I must also mention that Trip Meadow shares much in common with Druidess’s previous jaunt. Five of the album’s seven songs, in fact, appear on the Hermits and Mandrakes EP. Druidess does sonically improve these cuts for Trip Meadow, especially the vocal mix. Whereas Brown sits awkwardly atop the band on the EP, her voice feels prominent but porous on the LP, commingling with the fuzzy guitar tones while still carrying the tunes. It is disappointing, however, that roughly 70 percent of the material here exists on another release. The two new songs, though quite good, are not the strongest material on display. As discussed, “Trip Meadow” embodies enormous potential only partly realized. Meanwhile, “Descended from Giants” contains mighty fine bass-work, a neat pseudo-breakdown, and killer concluding wails, but it also retreads ground already covered.

Trip Meadow trips in a few ways, but ultimately, it’s a trip worth taking. If you’re already familiar with the Hermits and Mandrakes EP, the debut LP will probably feel like a tedious (albeit sonically improved) trek through well-worn terrain. If you’re like I was, however, ignorant of the EP and desiring of quality stoner-doom, then you should definitely take a stroll through Druidess’s comforting meadow of fuzzed-out riffs and fantastic vocals. At 41 minutes, Trip Meadow gets away with its redundancies because it sounds so good. If subsequent musical adventures tighten the songwriting while exploring experimentation under a cozy psych aesthetic, Druidess may find Greatness as a future destination.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Born of the ashes of former project Messenger, UK post-rock duo Liminal Sky, comprised of Jaime Gomez Arellano and Daniel Knight—and featuring Mat McNerney (Hexvessel, ex-Beastmilk), Kristoffer Rygg (Ulver), Anders Møller, Karin Park (Årabrot), Daniel O’Sullivan, Lars Horntveth, Alicia Nurho, Tore Ylwizaker, Ole Alexander Halstensgård, and Matt Rozeik—represents the next chapter in Arellano’s and Knight’s creative vision. Occupying a desolate space in the post realm that I haven’t covered in an official capacity since Latitudes dropped Part Island, upcoming debut All Tomorrow’s Darkness struck me in much the same way. Beautiful, inconsolable, tender, and graceful, Liminal Sky tugged at my heartstrings and called to my spirit.

An emotional and loving affair, All Tomorrow’s Darkness owes its gravity and poignancy to primary vocalist and lyricist Mat McNerney, impassioned by the recent loss of his mother. While it’s very clearly heard in McNerney’s vocal delivery across the record, Liminal Sky’s songwriting too reflects that heartbreak with crystalline clarity. Especially in their longer form compositions (“In Some Secret Universe,” “Algebra of Unknowing,” “All Tomorrow’s Darkness”), sweeping arcs and delicate plucked melodies inform the shape of mourning, of catharsis, of release, and of loss that All Tomorrow’s Darkness embodies. Its more energetic cuts (“A Solitary Future,” “Forget Me Not”) don’t disturb that shape, but rather recontextualize it as if to emphasize the unpredictable nature of grieving. As a whole, All Tomorrow’s Darkness represents a highly intelligent, deeply thoughtful, and highly resonant experience that offers its heart to those who would hear it, in the hopes that they would hold it with warmth and understanding.

Nowhere is this intimacy more effectively conjured than in centerpiece “Penance,” featuring Karin Park’s soothing croon. It is a stunning work, reminiscent of White Ward and Latitudes at their softest, but especially sorrowful, almost regretful. There’s a pain to this song which echoes some of the hardest processes that come with mourning the loss of a loved one, and it brings greater substance to its more energetic companion piece, “The Weight of Heaven.” In some strange alchemy, hookiness and subtle bounce fit “The Weight of Heaven” like a glove, almost as if the upshot of weathering the storm is clarity, acceptance, even hope. And yet, existential uncertainty and an ominous foreshadowing persist as undercurrent through songs like “Algebra of Unknowing” and “Oar on the Mooring” to remind the listener that clarity, that acceptance, and that hope is fragile. To further personify this message, All Tomorrow’s Darkness glides gently through all of these movements with a floatiness that belies its forlorn, heavy heart.

As a result of such fluidity, my perception of All Tomorrow’s Darkness’ hour-long expanse warps and shrinks. This, in turn, makes what should be a difficult, emotionally taxing experience remarkably easy to revisit. Its accessibility granted by direct, uncomplicated songwriting also affords a certain approachability that helps open up a listener not only to receive something so deeply steeped in pain and anguish, but also to respond in sympathetic release. That same simple songwriting, while effective and inviting, also results in some lightly recycled instrumental ideas. Across All Tomorrow’s Darkness, melodies, rhythms, and pacing occasionally reach a level of homogeneity and eerie familiarity such that every now and again I lose my place. I imagine that this might be on purpose, perhaps to reinforce an impression of liminal space and limbo that often manifests in the grieving process. If so, I’m not certain that Liminal Sky’s songwriting scaffolded that concept—outside of standout examples in “In Some Secret Universe” and “Algebra of Unknowing”—well enough to have the desired effect. Instead, and especially after multiple spins, it negatively impacts recall and weakens the album’s memorability.

Liminal Sky rekindled something inside me that I had forgotten after years apart from this little corner of the post world. In spite of its slow and soft approach, All Tomorrow’s Darkness strikes the spirit with accuracy and emotional heft. What few minor songwriting weaknesses it displays on occasion constitute an easily overcome obstacle to my appreciation of the experience. If anything, those very flaws help showcase how well-conceived and thoughtfully executed Liminal Sky’s debut is everywhere else. Imperfect, but easy to listen to and devastating to hear, All Tomorrow’s Darkness bears the soul of its creators with a candid vulnerability worth taking to heart.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Karisma Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Slomatics – Atomicult Review

By Alekhines Gun

Arguably more than any other subgenre, doom metal is as much about aesthetic as it is raw substance. The meshing of tone with riffs of tectonic heft to compensate the substitution of speed with glacial pace is key to the formula, with many a genre great being defined by the two elements in equal measure. Long running doom outfit Slowmatics, first founded in 2004, are here to drop their eighth LP Atomicult, and have opted to modify this approach a little by making a cosmic themed album. Being a sucker for space and all its aural manifestations, I was intrigued to see whether such a relatively rare framework could mesh well with the force and requisite black-hole summoning doom is known for. Strap on your jet packs and pack extra oxygen, and let’s take a quick dip through the cosmos!

Atomicult is an album of two blended flavors. The first is the doom traditional, with slow-moving riffs coated in meteor debris. Not quite as outlandishly bass-shaking as the best of Electric Wizard nor as immediately in your face as Weedeater, the tone offers adequate fuzz to carry the plodding tempo with enough depth to qualify for dooms requisite heaviness. The vocals of Marty (who also serves on drums) have a positive, uplifting quality to them, all cleans with a solid timbre, making them somewhat comparable to more simplistic power metal in their positivity and charm. “Relics” offers a break from the doom proper for a Panopticon-esque strummed and plucked interlude where guitarists David and Chris show off some different songwriting chops while Marty gets to drop an octave and show off a little more of his range. Anyone looking for a more oppressive or depressive quality won’t find such things here, as Atomicult reaches out for a much more celestial approach.

The second flavor helps in this presentation by drenching the majority of the album in synthscapes. If you were a stan for the last Blood Incantation release there’s a lot for you to enjoy here, with tracks like “Night Grief” and “Physical Witching” slathering the guitars in all kinds of electronic leads and ambient fillings. These elements are no mere flourish, but a main staple of the album (only missing in a handful of songs) emphasizing the attempt at a genuinely ethereal journey. Atomicult isn’t an album for you to wallow in your sorrow or declare war on your enemies, but instead sounds in theme like it would be a blast to hear live if you were baked off your biscuit at a laser light show.

The problem is I am neither baked off my biscuit1 nor at a laser light show, and stripped of its contextual placements Atomicult has absolutely nothing to recommend it over its peers. Riffs are boring, meandering, and far from catchy, with nothing to justify their repetition. The tone lacks the violence to carry the minimalism, and the synths only work to serve as a saccharine distraction rather than imbibe a true sense of heavenly beauty in the void, both guitar rooted and otherwise. It doesn’t help that Marty has a nice set of pipes but keeps his vocals constrained to the limited spaces of the riffs instead of carving out melodies for counterpoint or emphasis, with only his oft-repeated lyrical refrain of “Behold the moon, the sun, the stars, the sky”2 hitting a melody anyone could call sing-along inducing. Literally everything across this offering hits the target of “Just enough”. The tone is just heavy enough, the riffs just heavy enough, the synths just colorful enough, the vocals just pretty enough to prevent me from declaring anything bad, but absolutely nothing here is engaging enough for me to call anything good.

In the end, Slowmatics have presented an album of all aesthetic and very little of substance. It’s clearly doom, it’s clearly space themed, and it’s clearly pretty, but it doesn’t captivate, stimulate, or in any way command attention from song to song and nothing sticks to the listener when the album ceases to play. This is disappointing, as I like doom, space themes, and pretty things, but Atomicult manages to aspire to check off the labels in name only. If you’re still on the prowl for extraterrestrial music or need more doom in your life in general, there’s certainly more unlistenable out there, but nothing here to make me recommend it as anything worthy of attention but for the deepest of the genre aficionados.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Majestic Mountain Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: September 12th, 2025

#20 #2025 #Atomicult #BloodIncantation #DoomMetal #ElectricWizard #MajesticMountainRecords #Panopticon #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #Slomatics #UKMetal #Weedeater

We enter January under the impression that our underpowered filtration system couldn’t possibly get any more clogged up. Those blistering winds that overwhelm the vents with an even greater portion of debris and detritus pose a great challenge and a grave danger to my minions. Crawling through the refuse as more flies in all william-nilliam, my faithful lackeys brave the perils of the job and return, as they always do, with solid chunks of semi-precious ore.

And so I stand before you, my greedy little gremlins, in a freshly pressed flesh suit that only the elite like myself adorn, and present January 2025’s Filter finds. REJOICE!

Kenstrosity’s Fresh(ish) Finds

Bloodcrusher // Voidseeker [January 9th, 2025 – Barf Bag Records]

The sun rises on a new year, and most are angrier than ever. What’s a better way to process that anger than jamming a phat slab of brutal slamming deathcore into your gob, right? Oregon one-man-slammajamma Bloodcrusher understand this, and so sophomore outburst Voidseeker provides the goods. These are tunes meant not for musicality or delicacy but for brute-force face-caving. Ignorant stomps and trunk-rattling slams trade blows with serrated tremolo slides and a dry pong snare with a level of ferocity uncommon even in this unforgiving field (“Agonal Cherubim ft. Jack Christensen”). Feel the blistering heat of choice cuts “Serpents Circle ft. Azerate Nakamura” or “Death Battalion: Blood Company ft. The Gore Corps” and you have no choice but to submit to their immense heft. Prime lifting material, Voidseeker’s most straightforward cuts guarantee shattered PRs and spontaneous combustion of your favorite gym shorts as your musculature explodes in volume (“Slave Cult,” “Sanguis Aeternus,” “Blood Frenzy”). If you ask me, that sounds like a wonderful problem to have. As they pummel your cranium into dust with deadly slam riffs (“Malus et Mortis ft. Ryan Sporer,” “Seeker of the Void,” “Earthcrusher”) or hack and slash your bones with serrated tremolos (“Razors of Anguish,” “Methmouth PSA”), remember that Bloodcrusher is only trying to help.

Skaldr // Saṃsṛ [January 31st, 2025 – Avantgarde Music]

Virginia’s black metal upstarts Skaldr don’t do anything new. If you’ve heard any of black metal’s second wave, or even more melodic fare by some of my favorite meloblack bands like Oubliette, Stormkeep, and Vorga, Skaldr’s material feels like a cozy blanket of fresh snow. Kicking off their second record, Saṃsṛ, in epic fashion, “The Sum of All Loss” evokes a swaying dance that lulls me into its otherwordly arms. As Saṃsṛ progresses through its seven movements, tracks like the gorgeous “Storms Collide” and the lively “The Crossing” strike true every synapse in my brain, flooding my system with a goosebump-inducing fervor quelled solely by the burden of knowing it must end. Indeed, these short 43 minutes leave me ravenous for more, as Skaldr’s lead-focused wiles charm me over and over again without excess repetition of motifs or homogenization of tones and textures (“From Depth to Dark,” “The Cinder, The Flame, The Sun”). Some of its best moments eclipse its weakest, but weak moments are thankfully few and far between. In reality, Skaldr‘s most serious flaw is that they align so closely with their influences, thereby limiting Saṃsṛ‘s potential to stand out. Nonetheless, it represents one of the more engaging and well-realized examples of the style. Hear it!

Subterranean Lava Dragon // The Great Architect [January 23rd, 2025 – Self Release]

Formed from members of Black Crown Initiate and Minarchist, Pennsylvania’s Subterranean Lava Dragon take the successful parts of their pedigree’s progressive death metal history and transplant them into epic, fantastical soundscapes on their debut LP The Great Architect. Despite the riff-focused, off-kilter nature of The Great Architect, there lies a mystical, mythical backbone behind everything Subterranean Lava Dragon do (“The Great Architect,” “Bleed the Throne”). Delicate strums of the guitar, multifaceted percussion, and noodly soloing provide a thoughtful thread behind the heaviest crush of prog-death riffs and rabid roars, a combination that favorably recalls Blind the Huntsmen (“The Silent Kin,” “A Dream of Drowning”). In a tight 42 minutes, Subterranean Lava Dragon approaches progressive metal with a beastly heft and a compelling set of teeth—largely driven by the expert swing and swagger of the bass guitar—that differentiates The Great Architect from the greater pool of current prog. Yet, its pursuit of creative song structure, reminiscent of Obsidious at times, allows textured gradations and nuanced layers to elevate the final product (“A Question of Eris,” “Ov Ritual Matricide”). It is for these reasons that I heartily recommend The Great Architect to anyone who appreciates smart, but still dangerous and deadly, metal.

Thus Spoke’s Likeable Leftovers

Besna // Krásno [January 16th, 2025 – Self Release]

It was the esteemed Doom et Al who first made me aware of Slovakia’s post-black group Besna. 2022’s Zverstvá was charming and moving in equal respects, with its folky vibe amplifying the punch of blackened atmosphere and epicness. With Krásno, the group take things in a sharper, more refined, and still more compelling direction, showing real evolution and improvement. The vague leanings towards the electronic play a larger role (“Zmráka sa,” “Hranice”), but songs also make use of snappier, and stronger emotional surges (“Krásno,” “Mesto spí”), the polished production to the atmospherics counterbalanced sleekly by the rough, ardent screams and pleasingly prominent percussion. Krásno literally translates as ‘beautiful,’ and Besna get away with titling their sophomore so bluntly because it is accurate. Melodies are more sweeping and stirring (“Krásno,” “Oceán prachu,” “Meso spí”), and the integration of the harsh amidst the mellow is executed more affectively (“Hranice,” “Bezhviezdna obloha”) than in the band’s previous work. Particularly potent are Krásno’s subtle nods and reprises of harmonic themes spanning the record (“Krásno,” “Oceán prachu,” “Mesto spí”), recurring like waves in an uplifting way that reminds me of Deadly Carnage’s Through the Void, Above the Suns. Barely scraping past half an hour, the beautiful Krásno can be experienced repeatedly in short succession; which is the very least this little gem deserves.

Tyme’s Ticking Bomb

Trauma Bond // Summer Ends. Some Are Long Gone [January 12, 2025 – Self-Released]

Conceptualized by multi-instrumentalist Tom Mitchell1 and vocalist Eloise Chong-Gargette, London, England’s Trauma Bond plays grindcore with a twist. Formed in 2020 and on the heels of two other EPs—’21’s The Violence of Spring and ’22’s Winter’s Light—January 2025 sees Trauma Bond release its first proper album, Summer Ends. Some Are Long Gone, the third in a seasonally themed quadrilogy. Twisting and reshaping the boundaries of grindcore, not unlike Beaten to Death or Big Chef, Trauma Bond douses its grind with a gravy boat full of sludge. Past the moodily tribal and convincing intro “Brushed by the Storm” lies fourteen minutes of grindy goodness (“Regards,” “Repulsion”), sludgian skullduggery (“Chewing Fat”), and caustic cantankerousness (“Thumb Skin for Dinner”). You’ll feel violated and breathless even before staring down the barrel of nine-and-a-half minute closer “Dissonance,” a gargantuanly heavy ear-fuck that will liquefy what’s left of the organs inside your worthless skin with its slow, creeping sludgeastation. I was not expecting to hear what Trauma Bond served up, as the minimalist cover art drew me in initially, but I’m digging it muchly. Independently released, Summer Ends. Some Are Long Gone is a hell of an experience and should garner Trauma Bond a label partner. I’ll be hoping for that, continuing to support them, and looking forward to whatever autumn brings.

Iceberg’s Bleak Bygones

Barshasketh // Antinomian Asceticsm [January 9th, 2025 – W.T.C Productions]

My taste for black metal runs a narrow, anti-secondwave path. I want oppressive, nightmarish atmosphere, sure, but I also crave rich, modern production and technically proficient instrumental performances. Blending the fury of early Behemoth, the cinematic scope of Deathspell Omega, and the backbeat-supported drones of Panzerfaust, Barshasketh’s latest fell square in my target area. The pealing bells of “Radiant Aperture” beckoned me into Antinomian Asceticsm’s sacred space, a dark world populated with rippling drum fills, surprisingly melodic guitar work, and a varied vocal attack that consistently keeps things fresh. With the average track length in the 6-minute territory, repeat listens are necessary to reveal layers of rhythm and synth atmosphere that give the album its complexity. A throwaway interlude (“Phaneron Engulf”) and a drop in energy in the second and third tracks stop this from being a TYMHM entry, but anyone with a passing interest in technical black metal with lots of atmosphere should check this out.

GardensTale’s Tab of Acid

I Don’t Do Drugs, I Am Drugs // I Don’t Do Drugs, I Am Drugs [January 27th, 2025 – Self-released]

When you name yourself after a famous Salvador Dalí quote, you better be prepared to back it up with an appropriate amount of weird shit. Thankfully, I Don’t Do Drugs, I Am Drugs strives to be worthy of the moniker. The band’s self-titled debut is a psychedelic prog-death nightmare of off-kilter riffs, structures that seem built upon dream logic, layers of ethereal synths and bizarre mixtures of vocal styles. The project was founded by Scott Hogg, guitarist for Cyclops Cataract, who is responsible for everything but the vocals. That includes all the songwriting. Hogg throws the listener off with an ever-shifting array of Gojira-esque plodding syncopation and thick, throbbing layers of harmonics that lean discordant without fully shifting into dissonance. But the songs float as easily into other-worldly soundscapes (“The Tree that Died in it’s[sic] Sleep”) or off-putting balladry (“Confierous”). BP of Madder Mortem handles vocals, and he displays an aptitude for the many facets required to buoy the intriguing but unintuitive music, his shouts and screams and cleans and hushes often layered together in strange strata either more or less than human. The combined result resembles a nightmare Devin may have had around 2005 after listening too much Ephel Duath. It’s not yet perfected; the ballad doesn’t quite work, and the compositions are sometimes a bit too dedicated to their lack of handholds. But it’s a hell of a trip, and a very convincing mission statement. A band to keep an eye on!

Dear Hollow’s Gunk Behooval

Bloodbark // Sacred Sound of Solitude [January 3rd, 2025 – Northern Silence Productions]

Bloodbark’s debut Bonebranches offered atmospheric black metal a minimalist spin, as cold and relentless as Paysage d’Hiver, as textured as Fen, and as barren as the mountains it depicts, exuding a natural crispness that recalls Falls of Rauros. Seven years later, we are graced with its follow-up, the majestic Sacred Sound of Solitude. Like its predecessor, the classic atmoblack template is cut with post-black to create an immensely rich and dynamic tapestry, lending all the hallmarks of frostbitten blackened sound (shrieks, blastbeats, tremolo) with the depth of a more modern approach. Twinkling leads, frosty synths, and forlorn piano survey the frigid vistas, while the more furious blackened portions scale snowbound peaks, utilized with the utmost restraint and bound by yearning chord progressions (“Glacial Respite,” “Griever’s Domain”). A new element in the act’s sound is clean vocals (“Time is Nothing,” “Augury of Snow”), which lend a far more melancholy vibe alongside trademark shrieking. Bloodbark offers top-tier atmospheric black metal, a reminder of the always-looming winter.

Great American Ghost // Tragedy of the Commons [January 31st, 2025 – SharpTone Records]

Boston’s Great American Ghost used to be extremely one-note, a coattail-rider of the likes of Kublai Khan and Knocked Loose. Deathcore muscles whose veins pulse to the beat of a hardcore heart, you’d be forgiven to see opener “Kerosene” as a sign of stagnation – chunky breakdowns and punk beats, feral barks and callouts, and a hardcore frowny face sported throughout. But Tragedy of the Commons is a far more layered affair, with echoes of metalcore past (“Ghost in Flesh,” “Hymns of Decay”), pronounced and tasteful nu-metal influence a la Deftones (“Genocide,” “Reality/Relapse”), and more variety in their rhythms and tempos, reflecting a Fit for an Autopsy-esque cutthroat intensity and ominous crescendos alongside a more pronounced influence of melody and manic dissonance (“Echoes of War,” “Forsaken”). Is it still meatheaded? Absolutely. Are its more “experimental” pieces in just well-trodden paths of metalcore bands past? Oh definitely. But gracing Great American Ghost a voice beyond the hardcore beatdowns does Tragedy of the Commons good and gives this one-trick pony another trail to wander.

Steel Druhm’s Detestible Digestibles

Guts // Nightmare Fuel [January 31st, 2025 – Self-Release]

Finland’s Guts play a weird “caveman on a Zamboni” variant of groove-heavy death metal that mixes OSDM with sludge and stoner elements for something uniquely sticky and pulversizing. On Nightmare Fuel, the material keeps grinding forward at a universal mid-tempo pace powered by phat, crushing grooves. “571” sounds like a Melvins song turned into a death metal assault, and it shouldn’t work, but it very much does. The blueprint for what Guts do is so basic, but they manage to keep cracking skulls on track after track as you remain locked in place helplessly. Nightmare Fuel is a case study into how less can be MOAR, as Guts staunchly adhere to their uncomplicated approach and make it work so well. Each track introduces a rudimentary riff and beats you savagely with it for 3-4 minutes with little variation. Things reset for the next track, and a new riff comes out to pound you into schnitzel all over again. This is the Guts experience, and you will be utterly mulched by massive prime movers like “Mortar” and “Ravenous Leech,” the latter of which sounds like an old Kyuss song refitted with death vocals and unleashed upon mankind. The relentlessly monochromatic riffs are things of minimalist elegance that you need to experience. Nightmare Fuel is a slow-motion ride straight into a brick wall, so brace for a concrete facial.