#ukmetal — Public Fediverse posts

#ThursDeath this week is 2019 LP 'At the Tomb of Sanity' by APOSTATE from Preston, UK.

https://apostateuk.bandcamp.com/album/at-the-tomb-of-sanity

Apostate have an LP from 2022, but I like this 2019 one more. Growly, chunky, riffy, dynamic, OSDM style- you can really hear the bass, too. Has a brief acoustic interlude. And even some quality screams among the growls. Masterful drums. Decent guitar solos. It's a ripping record. No frills or bullshit on this one, just killer death metal. Probably some Cannibal or Morbid Angel in there. Seriously, check the riffage on track 9. Insanely tight, ridiculous shit.

#metal #UK #DeathMetal #UKMetal #PrestonMetal #UKDeathMetal #Apostate #PrestonUK #OSDM @HailsandAles @wendigo @rtw @guffo @AlfeeDee @c0m4 @Kitty @umrk @flockofnazguls @swampgas @nnenov @ttntm @Affekt

#ThursDeath this week is 2019 LP 'At the Tomb of Sanity' by APOSTATE from Preston, UK.

https://apostateuk.bandcamp.com/album/at-the-tomb-of-sanity

Apostate have an LP from 2022, but I like this 2019 one more. Growly, chunky, riffy, dynamic, OSDM style- you can really hear the bass, too. Has a brief acoustic interlude. And even some quality screams among the growls. Masterful drums. Decent guitar solos. It's a ripping record. No frills or bullshit on this one, just killer death metal. Probably some Cannibal or Morbid Angel in there. Seriously, check the riffage on track 9. Insanely tight, ridiculous shit.

#metal #UK #DeathMetal #UKMetal #PrestonMetal #UKDeathMetal #Apostate #PrestonUK #OSDM @HailsandAles @wendigo @rtw @guffo @AlfeeDee @c0m4 @Kitty @umrk @flockofnazguls @swampgas @nnenov @ttntm @Affekt

#ThursDeath this week is 2019 LP 'At the Tomb of Sanity' by APOSTATE from Preston, UK.

https://apostateuk.bandcamp.com/album/at-the-tomb-of-sanity

Apostate have an LP from 2022, but I like this 2019 one more. Growly, chunky, riffy, dynamic, OSDM style- you can really hear the bass, too. Has a brief acoustic interlude. And even some quality screams among the growls. Masterful drums. Decent guitar solos. It's a ripping record. No frills or bullshit on this one, just killer death metal. Probably some Cannibal or Morbid Angel in there. Seriously, check the riffage on track 9. Insanely tight, ridiculous shit.

#metal #UK #DeathMetal #UKMetal #PrestonMetal #UKDeathMetal #Apostate #PrestonUK #OSDM @HailsandAles @wendigo @rtw @guffo @AlfeeDee @c0m4 @Kitty @umrk @flockofnazguls @swampgas @nnenov @ttntm @Affekt

#ThursDeath this week is 2019 LP 'At the Tomb of Sanity' by APOSTATE from Preston, UK.

https://apostateuk.bandcamp.com/album/at-the-tomb-of-sanity

Apostate have an LP from 2022, but I like this 2019 one more. Growly, chunky, riffy, dynamic, OSDM style- you can really hear the bass, too. Has a brief acoustic interlude. And even some quality screams among the growls. Masterful drums. Decent guitar solos. It's a ripping record. No frills or bullshit on this one, just killer death metal. Probably some Cannibal or Morbid Angel in there. Seriously, check the riffage on track 9. Insanely tight, ridiculous shit.

#metal #UK #DeathMetal #UKMetal #PrestonMetal #UKDeathMetal #Apostate #PrestonUK #OSDM @HailsandAles @wendigo @rtw @guffo @AlfeeDee @c0m4 @Kitty @umrk @flockofnazguls @swampgas @nnenov @ttntm @Affekt

#ThursDeath this week is 2019 LP 'At the Tomb of Sanity' by APOSTATE from Preston, UK.

https://apostateuk.bandcamp.com/album/at-the-tomb-of-sanity

Apostate have an LP from 2022, but I like this 2019 one more. Growly, chunky, riffy, dynamic, OSDM style- you can really hear the bass, too. Has a brief acoustic interlude. And even some quality screams among the growls. Masterful drums. Decent guitar solos. It's a ripping record. No frills or bullshit on this one, just killer death metal. Probably some Cannibal or Morbid Angel in there. Seriously, check the riffage on track 9. Insanely tight, ridiculous shit.

#metal #UK #DeathMetal #UKMetal #PrestonMetal #UKDeathMetal #Apostate #PrestonUK #OSDM @HailsandAles @wendigo @rtw @guffo @AlfeeDee @c0m4 @Kitty @umrk @flockofnazguls @swampgas @nnenov @ttntm @Affekt

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

#nowplaying

Dirty Habit by Nuns of the Tundra 🤘

#metal #ukmetal

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

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

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

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

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

Liminal Sky – All Tomorrow’s Darkness Review

Born of the ashes of former project Messenger, UK post-rock duo Liminal Sky, comprised of Jaime Gomez Arellano…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.5 #AllTomorrow'sDarkness #Årabrot #Beastmilk #Entertainment #Hexvessel #Jun26 #KarismaRecords #Latitudes #LiminalSky #Messenger #PostRock #ProgressiveRock #review #Reviews #UK #UKMetal #UnitedKingdom #WhiteWard
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/656932/

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

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

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

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

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

https://www.europesays.com/uk/1033391/ Warning – Rituals of Shame Review #2026 #40 #40WattSun #DoomMetal #Entertainment #Jun26 #music #MyDyingBride #RelapseRecords #Review #Reviews #RitualsOfShame #UKMetal #UK #UnitedKingdom #warning

Few luminaries in metal can suckerpunch you right in the feels quite like Patrick Walker of 40 Watt Sun and the legendary Warning. Seriously, he could be singing to you about proper chinchilla care, and many would be left a sobbing, blubbering mess as he caterwauls about what treats and bathing clay to get for your new furry little friend. If you need proof of this, go give 2006’s sorrowful masterpiece (and recent Yer Metal is Olde inductee) Watching from a Distance 45 minutes of your time, and when you’re done splashing cold water on your face to remove the tears and redness, you’ll be hard-pressed to disagree. No one could predict that Walker would resurrect the project, as he seemed happy(?!) and content to continue with 40WS, but with its 2016 resurrection and now new album Rituals of Shame, all eyes are on Walker and crew to deliver.

And deliver, they did. Just like its immediate and legendary predecessor, Rituals is 45 minutes of a band taking its dear, bittersweet time to wrest every milliliter of sadness out of you. From the opening seconds of the title track, Walker and 40WS bandmate Wayne Taylor smother you flat with subdued riffs and simplistic yet effective melodies, even before a single word is muttered. But once Walker begins singing, ho-boy, that familiar yearning ache returns in full depressing force. Weathered by years of life experiences, Walker’s bellowing vibrato haven’t lost an ounce of effectiveness. In fact, they’ve become more potent over time, channeling that feeling that can only be delivered by someone who’s been through various wringers and back through honest conviction. It feels like they never disbanded, only resting until the time is right.

The other four songs also ensure that no light escapes or gets in. Closer “Teacher” hits with the same level of effectiveness as “Bridges” and “Footprints” did on Watching, but not taking as long to do so. Returning bassist Marcus Hatfield and new drummer Andy Prestidge (also of 40WS) added just enough variations of fills, rhythms, and flourishes, but mostly kept to a simple, heavy, and driving sound, again amplifying the anguish conveyed by Walker, his lyrics, and voice. And that’s the key to the effectiveness of Rituals and Warning as a whole; you don’t need flashiness, technical proficiency, or tricks and studio wizardry to be effective. Sometimes, brutally transparent honesty, wide-open space for your instruments to breathe and reverberate, and your emotions in the here and now are more than enough to get your message across.

It doesn’t hurt that Rituals is a massive improvement in some areas in terms of mastering and production. You can hear and feel Hatfield’s bass, and Prestidge’s drums don’t have that annoying “My Dying Bride in an empty bathroom” sound1 that permeated on Watching, so kudos to Tom Dring for engineering the drums perfectly. Thankfully, Chris Fullard and Adam Gonsalves left the guitars and Walker’s voice alone, as what wasn’t broken sure as hell didn’t need fixing. The only drawback to Rituals is this isn’t something I could listen to all that much. Not because of the quality, which is stellar, but it hurts to listen to on an emotional level. If you were in a good mood before listening to this, you sure as shit won’t be when you’re done. That said, if you need to purge and get whatever the fuck is making you sad out, I can’t think of a better album to do so with.

And that’s the… I refuse to say “appeal,” but I’m at a loss for words otherwise, of Warning. You don’t go into their music for gains at the gym, to romance your significant other, or to bask in someone’s ability to up and down a fretboard as fast as humanly possible. You listen to Warning to reflect, to purge, and to feel. And if you’re anything at all like me, you’ve been waiting a damn long time for a worthy follow-up to Watching from a Distance. Thankfully, Warning gave us exactly that. Welcome back.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Relapse
Websites: warningdoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/warningdoom | instagram.com/warningdoom
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Few luminaries in metal can suckerpunch you right in the feels quite like Patrick Walker of 40 Watt Sun and the legendary Warning. Seriously, he could be singing to you about proper chinchilla care, and many would be left a sobbing, blubbering mess as he caterwauls about what treats and bathing clay to get for your new furry little friend. If you need proof of this, go give 2006’s sorrowful masterpiece (and recent Yer Metal is Olde inductee) Watching from a Distance 45 minutes of your time, and when you’re done splashing cold water on your face to remove the tears and redness, you’ll be hard-pressed to disagree. No one could predict that Walker would resurrect the project, as he seemed happy(?!) and content to continue with 40WS, but with its 2016 resurrection and now new album Rituals of Shame, all eyes are on Walker and crew to deliver.

And deliver, they did. Just like its immediate and legendary predecessor, Rituals is 45 minutes of a band taking its dear, bittersweet time to wrest every milliliter of sadness out of you. From the opening seconds of the title track, Walker and 40WS bandmate Wayne Taylor smother you flat with subdued riffs and simplistic yet effective melodies, even before a single word is muttered. But once Walker begins singing, ho-boy, that familiar yearning ache returns in full depressing force. Weathered by years of life experiences, Walker’s bellowing vibrato haven’t lost an ounce of effectiveness. In fact, they’ve become more potent over time, channeling that feeling that can only be delivered by someone who’s been through various wringers and back through honest conviction. It feels like they never disbanded, only resting until the time is right.

The other four songs also ensure that no light escapes or gets in. Closer “Teacher” hits with the same level of effectiveness as “Bridges” and “Footprints” did on Watching, but not taking as long to do so. Returning bassist Marcus Hatfield and new drummer Andy Prestidge (also of 40WS) added just enough variations of fills, rhythms, and flourishes, but mostly kept to a simple, heavy, and driving sound, again amplifying the anguish conveyed by Walker, his lyrics, and voice. And that’s the key to the effectiveness of Rituals and Warning as a whole; you don’t need flashiness, technical proficiency, or tricks and studio wizardry to be effective. Sometimes, brutally transparent honesty, wide-open space for your instruments to breathe and reverberate, and your emotions in the here and now are more than enough to get your message across.

It doesn’t hurt that Rituals is a massive improvement in some areas in terms of mastering and production. You can hear and feel Hatfield’s bass, and Prestidge’s drums don’t have that annoying “My Dying Bride in an empty bathroom” sound1 that permeated on Watching, so kudos to Tom Dring for engineering the drums perfectly. Thankfully, Chris Fullard and Adam Gonsalves left the guitars and Walker’s voice alone, as what wasn’t broken sure as hell didn’t need fixing. The only drawback to Rituals is this isn’t something I could listen to all that much. Not because of the quality, which is stellar, but it hurts to listen to on an emotional level. If you were in a good mood before listening to this, you sure as shit won’t be when you’re done. That said, if you need to purge and get whatever the fuck is making you sad out, I can’t think of a better album to do so with.

And that’s the… I refuse to say “appeal,” but I’m at a loss for words otherwise, of Warning. You don’t go into their music for gains at the gym, to romance your significant other, or to bask in someone’s ability to up and down a fretboard as fast as humanly possible. You listen to Warning to reflect, to purge, and to feel. And if you’re anything at all like me, you’ve been waiting a damn long time for a worthy follow-up to Watching from a Distance. Thankfully, Warning gave us exactly that. Welcome back.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Relapse
Websites: warningdoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/warningdoom | instagram.com/warningdoom
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Few luminaries in metal can suckerpunch you right in the feels quite like Patrick Walker of 40 Watt Sun and the legendary Warning. Seriously, he could be singing to you about proper chinchilla care, and many would be left a sobbing, blubbering mess as he caterwauls about what treats and bathing clay to get for your new furry little friend. If you need proof of this, go give 2006’s sorrowful masterpiece (and recent Yer Metal is Olde inductee) Watching from a Distance 45 minutes of your time, and when you’re done splashing cold water on your face to remove the tears and redness, you’ll be hard-pressed to disagree. No one could predict that Walker would resurrect the project, as he seemed happy(?!) and content to continue with 40WS, but with its 2016 resurrection and now new album Rituals of Shame, all eyes are on Walker and crew to deliver.

And deliver, they did. Just like its immediate and legendary predecessor, Rituals is 45 minutes of a band taking its dear, bittersweet time to wrest every milliliter of sadness out of you. From the opening seconds of the title track, Walker and 40WS bandmate Wayne Taylor smother you flat with subdued riffs and simplistic yet effective melodies, even before a single word is muttered. But once Walker begins singing, ho-boy, that familiar yearning ache returns in full depressing force. Weathered by years of life experiences, Walker’s bellowing vibrato haven’t lost an ounce of effectiveness. In fact, they’ve become more potent over time, channeling that feeling that can only be delivered by someone who’s been through various wringers and back through honest conviction. It feels like they never disbanded, only resting until the time is right.

The other four songs also ensure that no light escapes or gets in. Closer “Teacher” hits with the same level of effectiveness as “Bridges” and “Footprints” did on Watching, but not taking as long to do so. Returning bassist Marcus Hatfield and new drummer Andy Prestidge (also of 40WS) added just enough variations of fills, rhythms, and flourishes, but mostly kept to a simple, heavy, and driving sound, again amplifying the anguish conveyed by Walker, his lyrics, and voice. And that’s the key to the effectiveness of Rituals and Warning as a whole; you don’t need flashiness, technical proficiency, or tricks and studio wizardry to be effective. Sometimes, brutally transparent honesty, wide-open space for your instruments to breathe and reverberate, and your emotions in the here and now are more than enough to get your message across.

It doesn’t hurt that Rituals is a massive improvement in some areas in terms of mastering and production. You can hear and feel Hatfield’s bass, and Prestidge’s drums don’t have that annoying “My Dying Bride in an empty bathroom” sound1 that permeated on Watching, so kudos to Tom Dring for engineering the drums perfectly. Thankfully, Chris Fullard and Adam Gonsalves left the guitars and Walker’s voice alone, as what wasn’t broken sure as hell didn’t need fixing. The only drawback to Rituals is this isn’t something I could listen to all that much. Not because of the quality, which is stellar, but it hurts to listen to on an emotional level. If you were in a good mood before listening to this, you sure as shit won’t be when you’re done. That said, if you need to purge and get whatever the fuck is making you sad out, I can’t think of a better album to do so with.

And that’s the… I refuse to say “appeal,” but I’m at a loss for words otherwise, of Warning. You don’t go into their music for gains at the gym, to romance your significant other, or to bask in someone’s ability to up and down a fretboard as fast as humanly possible. You listen to Warning to reflect, to purge, and to feel. And if you’re anything at all like me, you’ve been waiting a damn long time for a worthy follow-up to Watching from a Distance. Thankfully, Warning gave us exactly that. Welcome back.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Relapse
Websites: warningdoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/warningdoom | instagram.com/warningdoom
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Show 1 footnote

1. Turn Loose the Swans, if anyone is wondering. ↩

Few luminaries in metal can suckerpunch you right in the feels quite like Patrick Walker of 40 Watt Sun and the legendary Warning. Seriously, he could be singing to you about proper chinchilla care, and many would be left a sobbing, blubbering mess as he caterwauls about what treats and bathing clay to get for your new furry little friend. If you need proof of this, go give 2006’s sorrowful masterpiece (and recent Yer Metal is Olde inductee) Watching from a Distance 45 minutes of your time, and when you’re done splashing cold water on your face to remove the tears and redness, you’ll be hard-pressed to disagree. No one could predict that Walker would resurrect the project, as he seemed happy(?!) and content to continue with 40WS, but with its 2016 resurrection and now new album Rituals of Shame, all eyes are on Walker and crew to deliver.

And deliver, they did. Just like its immediate and legendary predecessor, Rituals is 45 minutes of a band taking its dear, bittersweet time to wrest every milliliter of sadness out of you. From the opening seconds of the title track, Walker and 40WS bandmate Wayne Taylor smother you flat with subdued riffs and simplistic yet effective melodies, even before a single word is muttered. But once Walker begins singing, ho-boy, that familiar yearning ache returns in full depressing force. Weathered by years of life experiences, Walker’s bellowing vibrato haven’t lost an ounce of effectiveness. In fact, they’ve become more potent over time, channeling that feeling that can only be delivered by someone who’s been through various wringers and back through honest conviction. It feels like they never disbanded, only resting until the time is right.

The other four songs also ensure that no light escapes or gets in. Closer “Teacher” hits with the same level of effectiveness as “Bridges” and “Footprints” did on Watching, but not taking as long to do so. Returning bassist Marcus Hatfield and new drummer Andy Prestidge (also of 40WS) added just enough variations of fills, rhythms, and flourishes, but mostly kept to a simple, heavy, and driving sound, again amplifying the anguish conveyed by Walker, his lyrics, and voice. And that’s the key to the effectiveness of Rituals and Warning as a whole; you don’t need flashiness, technical proficiency, or tricks and studio wizardry to be effective. Sometimes, brutally transparent honesty, wide-open space for your instruments to breathe and reverberate, and your emotions in the here and now are more than enough to get your message across.

It doesn’t hurt that Rituals is a massive improvement in some areas in terms of mastering and production. You can hear and feel Hatfield’s bass, and Prestidge’s drums don’t have that annoying “My Dying Bride in an empty bathroom” sound1 that permeated on Watching, so kudos to Tom Dring for engineering the drums perfectly. Thankfully, Chris Fullard and Adam Gonsalves left the guitars and Walker’s voice alone, as what wasn’t broken sure as hell didn’t need fixing. The only drawback to Rituals is this isn’t something I could listen to all that much. Not because of the quality, which is stellar, but it hurts to listen to on an emotional level. If you were in a good mood before listening to this, you sure as shit won’t be when you’re done. That said, if you need to purge and get whatever the fuck is making you sad out, I can’t think of a better album to do so with.

And that’s the… I refuse to say “appeal,” but I’m at a loss for words otherwise, of Warning. You don’t go into their music for gains at the gym, to romance your significant other, or to bask in someone’s ability to up and down a fretboard as fast as humanly possible. You listen to Warning to reflect, to purge, and to feel. And if you’re anything at all like me, you’ve been waiting a damn long time for a worthy follow-up to Watching from a Distance. Thankfully, Warning gave us exactly that. Welcome back.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Relapse
Websites: warningdoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/warningdoom | instagram.com/warningdoom
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Few luminaries in metal can suckerpunch you right in the feels quite like Patrick Walker of 40 Watt Sun and the legendary Warning. Seriously, he could be singing to you about proper chinchilla care, and many would be left a sobbing, blubbering mess as he caterwauls about what treats and bathing clay to get for your new furry little friend. If you need proof of this, go give 2006’s sorrowful masterpiece (and recent Yer Metal is Olde inductee) Watching from a Distance 45 minutes of your time, and when you’re done splashing cold water on your face to remove the tears and redness, you’ll be hard-pressed to disagree. No one could predict that Walker would resurrect the project, as he seemed happy(?!) and content to continue with 40WS, but with its 2016 resurrection and now new album Rituals of Shame, all eyes are on Walker and crew to deliver.

And deliver, they did. Just like its immediate and legendary predecessor, Rituals is 45 minutes of a band taking its dear, bittersweet time to wrest every milliliter of sadness out of you. From the opening seconds of the title track, Walker and 40WS bandmate Wayne Taylor smother you flat with subdued riffs and simplistic yet effective melodies, even before a single word is muttered. But once Walker begins singing, ho-boy, that familiar yearning ache returns in full depressing force. Weathered by years of life experiences, Walker’s bellowing vibrato haven’t lost an ounce of effectiveness. In fact, they’ve become more potent over time, channeling that feeling that can only be delivered by someone who’s been through various wringers and back through honest conviction. It feels like they never disbanded, only resting until the time is right.

The other four songs also ensure that no light escapes or gets in. Closer “Teacher” hits with the same level of effectiveness as “Bridges” and “Footprints” did on Watching, but not taking as long to do so. Returning bassist Marcus Hatfield and new drummer Andy Prestidge (also of 40WS) added just enough variations of fills, rhythms, and flourishes, but mostly kept to a simple, heavy, and driving sound, again amplifying the anguish conveyed by Walker, his lyrics, and voice. And that’s the key to the effectiveness of Rituals and Warning as a whole; you don’t need flashiness, technical proficiency, or tricks and studio wizardry to be effective. Sometimes, brutally transparent honesty, wide-open space for your instruments to breathe and reverberate, and your emotions in the here and now are more than enough to get your message across.

It doesn’t hurt that Rituals is a massive improvement in some areas in terms of mastering and production. You can hear and feel Hatfield’s bass, and Prestidge’s drums don’t have that annoying “My Dying Bride in an empty bathroom” sound1 that permeated on Watching, so kudos to Tom Dring for engineering the drums perfectly. Thankfully, Chris Fullard and Adam Gonsalves left the guitars and Walker’s voice alone, as what wasn’t broken sure as hell didn’t need fixing. The only drawback to Rituals is this isn’t something I could listen to all that much. Not because of the quality, which is stellar, but it hurts to listen to on an emotional level. If you were in a good mood before listening to this, you sure as shit won’t be when you’re done. That said, if you need to purge and get whatever the fuck is making you sad out, I can’t think of a better album to do so with.

And that’s the… I refuse to say “appeal,” but I’m at a loss for words otherwise, of Warning. You don’t go into their music for gains at the gym, to romance your significant other, or to bask in someone’s ability to up and down a fretboard as fast as humanly possible. You listen to Warning to reflect, to purge, and to feel. And if you’re anything at all like me, you’ve been waiting a damn long time for a worthy follow-up to Watching from a Distance. Thankfully, Warning gave us exactly that. Welcome back.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Relapse
Websites: warningdoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/warningdoom | instagram.com/warningdoom
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

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

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

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

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

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/

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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

#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

#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

#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

#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…
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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