#ukmetal — Public Fediverse posts

Chairmaker – Leviathan Carcass Review

By Andy-War-Hall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Qrixkuor – The Womb of the World Review

By Kenstrosity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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