#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.

Houston’s Necrofier first came on my radar when they played the 2024 Decibel Magazine Tour with Hulder, Devil Master, and Worm. Sadly, I missed their opening set, but gladly, I caught a recording of it on YouTube.1 Their raucous, crowd-pleasing performance compelled me to check out their recordings. At 36 minutes, debut Prophecies of Eternal Darkness (2021) is a lean, mean barrage of melodic black metal, while Burning Shadows in the Southern Night (2023) ups the ante with 47 minutes of stronger, more polished material. Necrofier’s (lone?) star seems to be on the rise since Decibel 2024, as their third album arrives on the mighty Metal Blade Records. Also on the rise are the band’s ambitions; Transcend into Oblivion spreads three three-songs suites and an eponymous closing track across a hefty 59 minutes. Everything is bigger in Texas, sure, but bigger doesn’t always mean better (or good).

Perhaps due to their sweltering abode, Necrofier draws black metal sustenance from the shivering environs of Scandinavia. Dissection is certainly an immediate reference point, if they excised the excursions into folky melodeath. Necrofier’s preferred melodicism swirls as a maelstrom of mobile power chords by guitarists Bakka and Semir Özerkan, propelled by the dexterous drumming of Dobber Beverly.2 The influence of Watain also feels present, especially since Bakka’s rasp sounds quite a bit like E. And early Emperor reigns here as well, before they fully unbound Prometheus. Violins, synthesizers, and harpsichords are felt more than heard outright, balancing a sweet spot production-wise à la Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk. On the unfortunate side of the production is bassist Mat Valentine, who gets lost in the shuffle. Nevertheless, Transcend into Oblivion consistently delivers quality black metal that is melodic but dangerous.

Transcend into Oblivion by Necrofier

Transcend into Oblivion progresses as three suites, each comprised of three songs. Together, they narrate a ‘Luciferian Night of the Dark Soul’: a spiritual awakening incites torment that ultimately engenders rebirth. Individually, they mostly play out as a collection of thematically-linked songs. “Fires of the Apocalypse, Light My Path” immediately kicks the door in (“Fires…I”) before kicking the door in again (“Fires…II”) and again—”Fires…III” is the strongest of the trio, but the listener begins wondering why these songs are presented as holistic units. The “Servants of Darkness, Guide My Way” trilogy comes closest to reaching suiteness. “Servants…I” starts with one of the album’s gnarliest trem riffs, “Servants…II” cools things down with an extended acoustic passage, and “Servants III” delightfully dips into doomy Middle-Eastern territory before black-metal blastoff. As for the “Horns of Destruction, Lift My Blade” triumvirate, it adds variety with d-beats, chunkier riffs, and a gong, but it feels like more of the same this deep into the album. There’s no real filler amongst the suites, but there aren’t any thrilling peaks either.

Keeping with their spiritualism, Necrofier nests numerology into Transcend into Oblivion, punctuating its three-song threesome with three instrumentals. For the most part, they effectively break up the black metal action. On the heels of the opening “Fires” suite, “Behold, the Birth of Ascension” conveys the onset of (re)birth pangs. Repurposing a melody from “Fires…III” with creepy bells and macabre piano, it cleverly inverts the typical function of an interlude, segueing out of a song rather than into one. More in the typical interlude camp is “Mystical Creation of Enlightenment.” Its Spanish-sounding acoustic plucks make for a soothing shift out of the savage “Servants” suite, while its ending modulation prefigures the ornery onset of the “Horns” suite. Oddly enough, it’s the eponymous instrumental that feels superfluous. “Toward the Necrofier” concludes the album with ominous space synths, incantatory spoken word, and tribal rhythms. “Horns…III,” however, ends with its own climax and a piano denouement, which makes the final instrumental feel like a coda to an album that doesn’t need more closure.

“Toward the Necrofier” does function as a serviceable springboard for a second spin of Transcend into Oblivion, an album which I ultimately recommend. It makes sense that Necrofier would cap off a work about rebirth with an eponymous song distilling the more unique elements of their sound. While Necrofier don’t fully realize their conceptual ambition, Transcend into Oblivion is sweet stuff regardless, demonstrating lots of promise for future outings. Black metal zealots of all stripes should strongly consider messing with these Texans.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed:256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025