#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.

Metal is filled with reluctant vocalists. Whether it’s Dave Mustaine ultimately deciding to front Megadeth, or Mikael Åkerfeldt hesitantly filling the void in Opeth, or Troy Sanders and Brent Hinds eventually co-voicing Mastodon,1 vocals often exist in the genre as an afterthought. But what happens when there’s no after to the afterthought? You get something like Only Echoes, an instrumental post-metal quartet from Denver, CO. In their promo materials, Only Echoes explain that they formed expecting vocals to play a part in their music, but ‘when the time came to decide who would sing, no one raised a hand.’ This lack of vocals, however, became a staple of the band’s identity, fueling their self-titled EP (2018) and debut LP Sunsickness (2022), both of which were independently released. Arriving via Braeburn Records, sophomore album Born Adrift promises ‘an internal narrative without relying on lyrics to explain it.’ Said promo materials do, however, sketch the narrative: the album charts ‘a journey through survival, uncertainty, and the strange momentum that keeps a person moving through hostile waters.’

Without a vocalist, Only Echoes rely on the versatile arsenals of their instrumentalists to convey Born Adrift’s arc. The band references several acts one would expect as influences on an (instrumental) post-metal album: Russian Circles, Pelican, Isis.2 On the guitar front, Austin Minney and Dustin Yourishin combine for a menagerie of flickering melodies, glimmering clean chords, and chunky chugs. Drummer Zach Sirotkin lays down a bevy of blast beats, d-beats, and double-bass thunder. Meanwhile, bassist Ben Rosenberg periodically pokes through the mix with some upper-fret flourishes. As some elements of this description of Only Echoes hint at, Born Adrift doesn’t quite channel the spirit of the bands cited above. Yes, there are some well-earned quiet-to-heavy, heavy-to-quiet transitions across the album. But by and large, Only Echoes play far less patiently than these groups, swiftly shuffling between blissed-out breathers, punk-rock paces, and core-ish chuggery. Despite their mostly 6–8 minute lengths, the songs tend to sound like bursts of metal grab bag.

Because all but one song on Born Adrift briskly bounces between styles, any sense of album-spanning narrative is hard to detect. My criticism of the grab-bag songwriting notwithstanding, “Born Adrift” and “Tempest” do open the record with excitement, showcasing a band capable of moving melodies and infectious tempos. “So Tightly Bound” seems like it will be compositionally different; it develops an enchanting vibe across three minutes. But then the song quickly jumps into a d-beat-driven punk part, capped off with some obligatory chugging. It’s as if there’s a missing middle between the beginning and the punky outburst. After the aptly titled interlude (“Inter”), the album closes by showing some signs of patient development (“Steps Ahead of Drowning”). But then Only Echoes revert back to their familiar mode, jarringly contrasting serene buildups with breakneck speed (“Shimmering Death”). At 35 minutes, Born Adrift isn’t exactly a chore to get through, but it often feels longer than it is. I almost get the sense that Only Echoes tried to cram an album’s worth of material into nearly every song.

Unfortunately, sonic missteps also become a barrier to enjoying Only Echoes’s sophomore outing. On the production end of things, Born Adrift does seem cognizant of intentional mixing: the drums and bass grow more present in sections where the guitars are textural and ambient. The guitars, however, unpleasantly dominate the mix when Minney and Yourishin turn towards chugging rhythms. The bass, when it sticks to lower registers, gets lost and feels inessential. The big issue, however, concerns the low bitrate of Born Adrift’s audio files (128 kbps). At lower volumes, the album sounds compressed and mushy; at higher volumes, it’s clippy and grating. As a metal album in want of blasting, this latter fact is quite unfortunate.

Born Adrift ultimately disappoints, but not for its lack of vocals per se. As instrumentalists, Only Echoes clearly possess chops, and they show a knack for crafting and connecting affecting passages (“Born Adrift,” “Tempest”). Too often, however, these passages are disrupted by abrupt stylistic changes that come off as contrived. Additionally, the sonic flaws sadly hamper an album that does, at times, sound massive and powerful. In my view, Only Echoes don’t necessarily need someone to step up and command the microphone. They might, however, exercise the kind of restrained patience that, for me at least, tends to make for notable instrumental metal/rock.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Braeburn Records
Websites: Official | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 14th, 2026

Show 2 footnotes

1. Yes, Brann Dailor also sings for Mastodon, but not at the outset. ↩
2. The band also cite Deafheaven and God Is an Astronaut as influences. ↩

Seeking revenge for her son’s death, Grendel’s mother thrusts her sword at Beowulf. ‘Him on eaxle læg / breostnet broden,’ the Beowulf poet pens,1 ‘þæt gebearh feore, / wið ord ond wið ecge ingang forstod.’ For those unfluent in Old English: Beowulf’s chainmail saved his life, withstanding both the edge and ‘ord’ (tip/spear) of the vengeful matriarch’s sword. From this archaic term for the spear of a sword, Ordh derives its appellation, which may suggest to readers an Anglo-Saxon-themed war metal outfit. That (killer) Paolo Girardi artwork, however, screams cosmic-prog death,2 with Blind in Abyssal Realms being the Vermont quartet’s first full-length lunge at the metal community. Ordh will need to be sharper than the sword of Grendel’s mother, though, for the generic chainmail of progressive death metal is more tightly braided than that adorned by the King of the Geats.3

The cosmic-prog death of Blind in Abyssal Realms claims roots in an earthier subgenre. After the dissolution of progressive sludgers Barishi, guitarist Graham Brooks joined forces with vocalist Jonathan Hébert of sludge-doomers Come to Grief to form a new band. In shifting from the slurry of sludge to the heft of death metal while retaining progressive and doom elements, Ordh ends up sounding like an atmospheric Mortiferum. Brooks’s riffs, whether on low or high strings, always possess grandeur, and his solos splotch like Jackson Pollock splashing paint across a canvas. Brooks also engineered the album’s synths, which are noticeable but never overpower the guitarwork. Hébert’s gutturals keep things terrestrial, hollering at the heavens from his earth-bound cave. Joining Brooks and Hébert are rhythm section Josh Smith (bass) and Dylan Blake (drums, ex-Barishi). Blake especially shines, mixing typical death-metal pounding with jazzy roving and glorious rototom runs. Given Ordh’s previous experience in sludge, it’s impressive how sharp their first attempt at cosmic-prog death is, standing toe to toe with the likes of Cosmic Putrefaction and Blood Incantation.

Blind in Abyssal Realms by Ordh

What makes Blind in Abyssal Realms cut deep is its balancing of atmosphere with instantly memorable riffs. Opener “Apis Bull” perfectly demonstrates this dichotomy; its big, bendy Oldpeth figure alternates with a spacey, higher-register version of itself before exploring new terrain. Similarly, “Moon of Urd” rises with a delightfully demented earworm that reveals a lush blanket of pure psych twilight. “Phlegraean Fields,” the most adventurous song on here, builds an ever-morphing, synth-laden melody, capturing a stranger surveying a mythical landscape with terror-tinged curiosity.4 Right out the gate, Ordh understands that the ‘cosmic’ in ‘cosmic-prog death’ should not be cosmetic. Indeed, the synths support consistently superb riffs on this debut, imbuing them with enriching depth.

Some aspects of Blind in Abyssal Realms dull its attack. Production-wise, the record sounds good but lacks a bit of low end. The caveman parts don’t hit as hard as they should; Blake’s kick drum could use more oomph, and Smith’s bass is frequently hard to detect in anything other than clean sections. Concerning the album’s pacing, the last two tracks don’t quite measure up to the ascending quality of the opening trio. “Blind in Abyssal Realms” is a strong song that, at over 12 minutes, could use editing. “Hierothesion” refreshingly closes out the record as its most straightforward pummeler, but similarly, some concision would amplify its effect. And as for originality, Ordh mostly sounds like itself, though occasionally, combinations of blast beats, dive bombs, and ‘aaaghs!’ are a bit too on the Blood Incantation nose.

Nitpicks aside, Ordh drives home its point with Blind in Abyssal Realms. This is an impressive debut that makes a mark on progressive death metal. Comprised of five tracks at just under 45 minutes, Blind in Abyssal Realms advances as a filler-free affair, trading violent slashes with chilled-out parries in a manner inviting repeat engagements. Fans of the genre should definitely spar with this sonic sword. Swīðe gōd weorc, Ordh!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pulverised Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 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