#usmetal — Public Fediverse posts

A year ago to the day, the metal community tragically lost Brent Hinds. Three weeks from now, metalheads can observe a joyous anniversary involving Hinds: Blood Mountain turns 20. The convergence of these anniversaries must be disorienting for the remaining members of Mastodon, who recently released a tribute to their fallen brother. In the video, Brann Dailor, Bill Kelliher, and Troy Sanders narrate the rise and fall of their camaraderie with Hinds, culminating in a public dispute after his dismissal from the band. Watching old studio footage of his deceased bandmate recording Blood Mountain, however, puts Dailor in a happier mood; he claims Hinds was reaching the height of his creative powers on album three.1 I snagged a copy of Blood Mountain from Best Buy the day it dropped, and it quickly presaged for me the metal giant Mastodon could become. Only now can I appreciate the giant within the giant.

Like most Mastodon fans, I eagerly anticipated Blood Mountain. The “March of the Fire Ants” video on Headbanger’s Ball introduced me to the band, and Leviathan convinced me that these Atlantans were running perpendicular to the New Wave of American Heavy Metal (NWOAHM) they were lumped into. Signing to Reprise Records put major pressure on the band, which they mitigated by keeping Matt Bayles behind the board.2 Mastodon ended up following Leviathan with another concept album, this time with originality: a protagonist ascends the titular mountain to crown its peak with a crystal skull, facing physical, psychological, and mythical tribulations along the way.3 Upon finally hearing it, Blood Mountain struck me as a step up for the band. Kelliher’s off-kilter guitar work felt more consistent, Sanders’s bass choices felt more impactful, and Dailor’s drum-kit clinic felt more purposive. But the album also struck me as structurally similar to Leviathan. An early lyric in “The Wolf is Loose”—when a screaming Hinds likens the protagonist’s predicament to ‘the belly of the whale’—seemed to confirm this similitude.

It was obvious, however, that Blood Mountain’s vocals separated it from previous outings. A making-of documentary shows Hinds exhausted by the lengthier recording process yet energized by the unique blending of his voice with Sanders’s.4 If “The Wolf is Loose” and “Crystal Skull” loosely mimic Leviathan’s raucous opening, Mastodon distinguish Blood Mountain’s one-two punch through Hinds’s voice, shifting between scathing snarls, creepy whispers, and soulful croons. On melodic centerpiece “Colony of Birchmen,” Hinds warbles eerie verses and belts a powerful post-chorus with posthumously poignant lyrics (‘Gone away / My heart’s gone away / Taking everything’). And “This Mortal Soil,” the prog-rock curveball, contains one of Hinds’s most moving choruses. The NWOAHM left me callous to the harsh/clean vocals formula, and Hinds himself jokes that Mastodon sold out with their singsongy major label premiere. Despite my NWOAHM skepticism, Blood Mountain didn’t strike me as vocally formulaic. Hinds’s voice in particular gave Mastodon a weirdo quality that had the band riding its own wave.

Hinds is primarily a guitarist, though, and Blood Mountain contains some of his most expressive playing. He does, of course, lay down tasty solos (“Crystal Skull,” “Colony of Birchmen”). But for my money, Blood Mountain soars when Hinds adds melodic color to kinetic jams with Kelliher, Sanders, and Dailor. The frenetic bridge in “Capillarian Crest” comes to mind, as does freak-out instrumental “Bladecatcher.” Closer “Pendulous Skin” shows Hinds at his most singular on Blood Mountain, guitar-wise. He cites Led Zeppelin as an influence, and it’s hard not to hear the song’s roving acoustic chords as Stairwavian, its solo as Pagean. With “Pendulous Skin,” it’s almost as if the rest of Mastodon handed off Blood Mountain to Hinds, confident he could craft a classic conclusion.5

Blood Mountain stands as a transition between the sludgsterpiece of Leviathan and the more palatable Mastodon to come. Calling it simply a ‘transition album,’ however, would be unjust. Standing tall on its own, Blood Mountain showed me something familiar yet new in 2006—in hindsight, Hinds was responsible for much of this invigorating novelty. Indeed, the album’s classic- and prog-rock flashes excited me for the band’s future. Speaking of the future, Mastodon will be releasing Marrow Deep, their first album without Hinds, a week from now. Today is the day to mourn the loss of a metal giant, and August 28th will be the day to see what Mastodon can create without this giant. September 12th, however, will be the day to celebrate Hinds’s giant contributions: to one of Mastodon’s finest albums and to metaldom more broadly.

Quite like its illustrious barbecue, North Carolina’s sludge offers a variety of flavors. Raleigh’s own COC serves the slow-smoked standard, Wilmington’s Weedeater plate a vinegary take on the subgenre, and even Asheville’s Bask season their heavy Americana with sludge. To stand out in this vibrant culinary scene, MAKE brand theirs as ‘thematic psychedelic noise-sludge.’ Formed in Raleigh in 2008 by Scott Endres (guitar, vocals) and Spencer Lee (bass, guitar, vocals), MAKE made waves in 2016 when they aligned with Accident Prone Records for their Pilgrimage of Loathing. Joining Endres and Lee for Exegesis at the End of Time, the band’s fourth full-length (and first in a decade), are drummer John Crouch and bassist/vocalist/synthesizer-ist Aaron Smithers.1 MAKE’s self-description suggests a whole-hog approach2 to extreme metal/rock, but branding is not execution—these ingredients must coalesce into a delicious, satisfying tray.

Exegesis at the End of Time amiably shares a table with formative noise-sludge outfits. Not just because their names rhyme, MAKE reminds me most of Rwake, insofar as a panoply of extreme vocal stylings—gutturals, anguished shrieks, shout-singing—dresses longish songs with a Southern flair (“The End of the Night”). The paradigmatic dynamism of Neurosis also makes appearances, with quiet, bass-driven incantations giving way to harsh punctuations of razor-wire riffing (“Forking Paths”). The frequent centrality of the bass also recalls Isis; MAKE similarly thrives when the low end establishes a melodic groove that opens the door to crushing dirges (“The Augur”). Though its production isn’t as thick n’ rich as I would like for a sludge record, Exegesis skillfully balances its ingredients, ensuring that riffs never get lost in the sauce.

Despite its branding, Exegesis at the End of Time doesn’t strike me as particularly ‘psychedelic.’ I think of psychedelic music as requiring acquiescence to agents of transcendence from below, so as to ascend to the noumenon. MAKE does make the effort to put listeners into a meditative headspace. “The End of the Night” opens the album with three minutes of rhythmless synth/guitar shimmering before a simple, bluesy bass line emerges. Mid-album track “Forking Path” and closer “The Augur” make similar moves: ritualistic bass sets a droning tone, an abrasive sludge-hammer responds. It is in moments like these that MAKE falters a bit as a purportedly ‘psychedelic’ act. The heavy responses frequently pulverize, but they don’t uplift to a new plane of existence. “Chimera,” one of the most straightforward songs on Exegesis, stands as something of an exception. Its chaotic ending, layering heavily-effected, high-register guitar noise over a stank-faced head-bobber, does induce a degree of transcendence.

On the ‘thematic’ side of its branding, Exegesis at the End of Time grows in enjoyment with knowledge of its lyrics, even as it feels thematically divided. In their promo materials, MAKE speaks of a singular ‘concept’: ‘[T]he order that rules our world represents a cosmic violence that will destroy us if we don’t conquer it.’3 The distorted, dissonant chords punctuating the chill spaciness of opener “The End of the Night” sonically establish earthly violence impinging upon a serene cosmos. But despite their singular concept, MAKE also outlines multiple literary influences: McCarthy, Pynchon, DeBord. The labyrinth adorning the cover suggests that “Forking Paths,” a song dramatizing the disorienting temporality of the Borgesian labyrinth, connects the album’s overarching concept to its particular literary allusions. As a retelling of “The Garden of Forking Paths,” though, the song removes [SPOILER ALERT] the climactic gunshot [END SPOILER ALERT]. In my deeper dive, the album felt like it forked between paths puzzling over possible futures (“The End of the Night”) and those explicating our destructive present (“Chimera,” “The Spectacle”). Still, the lyrics almost always enhance the tracks—the seemingly-endless tension chord in the middle of “The Augur,” for one, excellently captures Sisyphus futilely pushing the boulder up the hill.

More a conceptual record than a concept record, Exegesis at the End of Time nevertheless comprises a worthy tray. ‘Exegesis’ usually connotes long-windedness, but MAKE’s fourth album is relatively concise at 41 minutes, leaving me full but not overstuffed. It may imply a scope it doesn’t realize, but Exegesis delivers a well-sequenced smattering of thinking-man’s sludge brimming with potential. It’s not a spot to necessarily frequent, but it’s a spot that satisfies all the same.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Accident Prone Records
Websites: Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 12th, 2026