#whiteward — Public Fediverse posts

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

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

Stuck in the Filter: January’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

March is but a few days away (at the time of writing), so, naturally, we at AMG and Sons feel it’s finally time to leave 2023 behind. Entering 2024 with a fresh vat of anger juice to fuel our findings, we trudge through the thin metal walls of our ever-taxed filtration system. And boy howdy did we get lucky this month!

January’s Filter is stuffed to the gills with great options, sure to find a home in the arms of one of you despicable rascals lovely readers. If there was ever a Filter stocked enough to feed an entire readership in one fell swoop, it’s this one. Now, go! Feast!

Kenstrosity’s Scuzzy Slags

Dark Oath // Ages of Man [January 18th, 2024 – Self Release]

Portuguese symphonic, melodic death metal five-piece1 Dark Oath quietly dropped its sophomore effort Ages of Man to an unsuspecting public midway through January. After a whopping eight years since their debut When Fire Engulfs the Earth released, surely expectations for fans run high. As for me, this is my first foray, and this follow-up is nothing short of striking. Immediately recalling Aephanemer’s excellent Prokopton and Aether’s In Embers, riffs aren’t Ages of Man’s focus. Rather, epic guitar licks and leads command the charge with a cavalcade of orchestral layers forming an army of triumphant melodies and counterpoint just behind (“Gold I” and “Gold II”). Prominently featured and wonderfully effective, acoustic plucking from what sounds like a bouzouki evokes the magnificence and reverent tones of Gorgon’s Elegy, creating another core character for this epic journey that deepens the experience further (“Silver I,” “Bronze I,” “Bronze II”). While I occasionally pine for more engaging, groovy riffs to provide greater dynamics than the chugging gallops utilized instead, there’s no denying that Dark Oath’s infectious melodies and danceable rhythms punch far above the weight of forty-two minutes of lush, epic material (“Silver II,” “Heroic I,” “Iron”). At the end of the day, if you wanna go on cinematic adventures in the near future, queue up Ages of Man. It will be your guide.

Rhûn // Conveyance in Death [January 26th, 2024 – I.K. Productions]

Falls of Rauros’ founding member Aaron Charles, known for his emotive and vicious howls and creative guitar work, established solo act Rhûn back in 2021. Over the past year, a set of singles hinted at what debut full-length Conveyance in Death might hold for the Portland, Maine multi-instrumentalist. Now that it’s unleashed upon the world, this record proves to be a compelling amalgam of atmospheric black metal, post-black, and death metal. Opener “Morningstar” showcases all of these facets with aplomb, shifting from crushing riffs to a gorgeous trem-based ascension in the final third. Further down the line, Song o’ the Year contender “Bone Ornament” suitably shatters my bones with its awesome main riff, swaggering groove, and vicarious pacing. Other interesting forays into multifaceted modality and doom-laden marches help define the darker “Tomb of Andesite” and “Citadels in Ruins.” At a tight thirty-seven minutes of quality material, there’s little here that needs editing, although some lengthier passages in “Howl of Gleaming Swords” and closer “Night’s Glacial Passing” could stand a thirty-second trim here or there. Nonetheless, this is a strong launch for the fledgling project, and I can’t wait to hear how Aaron develops it in the future.

Niemaracz // The Tales of the Dense Forest [January 31st, 2024 – Self Release]

Hailing from Almaty, Kazakhstan, uber-obscure stoner doom black metal band Niemaracz doesn’t even have a date of establishment listed on Metallum. Pulling from fuzzy doom metal, languid stoner rock, folk-tinged heavy metal, and witchy black metal, debut record The Tales of the Dense Forest ushers in a sound I can’t say I’ve ever heard before. Icy and warm, rich and sharp, relaxed and blistering, these sprawling soundscapes challenge every preconception I held for not one, but four distinct styles. Yet, coming in at just under thirty minutes, this record marries them all as fluidly as a babbling brook glides over stone. With the immersive opener, “The Experiment,” Niemaracz’s high-fantasy fueled melodies and classic riffs impress with their uncanny synchronicity, while the fuzzy and warm production deepens the music’s cohesion. Album highlight, “The Faithful Horse,” manages to blend classic Iron Maiden gallops with the sort of furious black metal I’d sooner expect from Emperor, all wrapped up in stoned fuzz, and it’s fascinating. Sometimes, the clean baritones are far too forward in the mix, throwing that delicate balance of tones and textures way off. Thankfully, the consistently entertaining and novel songwriting makes it all worthwhile (“The Secret of Longevity”). Go check them out, and give their lone Bandcamp supporter a new friend!

Tales From the Garden

Slift // Ilion [January 19th, 2024 – Sub Pop Records]

I am going to preface this glowing recommendation by saying that this fucking behemoth is far too long. It’s nigh-on 80 minutes of dense, twisting, and very French psychedelic madness, and the brain can only contain so much of that for so long. The reason I am posting it here anyway is that it is really good dense twisting French psychedelic madness. Slift became an underground darling after 2020’s Ummon, which got them enough acclaim to be Artist in Residence at the 2022 edition of Roadburn, where I first became acquainted with the Toulouse formation. Ilion is a feverish album, a chase through winding soundscapes that always change but never end, layers of vocals and synths passing in and out of view, the hefty riffs hammering your back and Frenchmen hollering at you from behind. Slift has been getting heavier with each release and now firmly finds itself in sludge territory. The phenomenal drums are the tone, the pace, and the foundation here, a colossal presence even if their sound isn’t massive per se. They remind most of the climactic sequences Dvne so excels at, a bludgeoning dynamic shuffle that feels like getting caught in an avalanche, but retaining their old-school jam-band roots. Thankfully there’s enough variation to mitigate the bloat a bit, from left-field saxophone intermissions to more mid-paced material like the excellent atmospheric doom of “Weavers’ Weft.” Ilion is a deep, deep well, but a richly rewarding one for fans of heavy psych.

Carcharodon’s Fanged Fancies

Ὁπλίτης // Παραμαινομένη [January 12th, 2024 – Self-released]

At this point, I am almost relieved that the Chinese black metal-making machine known as Ὁπλίτης (Hoplites, for those of us not well versed in Ancient Greek) resolutely continues to not send us promo. Such is his level of productivity and, crucially, consistency, that I fear I would spend a fair chunk of my time just writing >3.0 reviews for his various projects (Vitriolic Sage being another good one). A case in point, his latest offering, Ὁπλίτης, is another absolute banger. Π​α​ρ​α​μ​α​ι​ν​ο​μ​έ​ν​η actually offers something slightly different from previous outings. While still very much playing in the almost clinically harsh black metal space, there is a more present and more vicious bass groove to this (fifth track “Συμμιαινόμεναι Διονύσῳ Ἐλευθέριῳ”), as well as, more surprisingly, a lot of freeform jazz elements. Screaming sax and trumpets are a big component, particularly in the first half of the record, giving the whole a feeling of White Ward and John Zorn having a particularly raucous threesome with Vredehammer. There is nothing tender about what’s happening though; it’s furious, pummelling, experimental… at least one of which is a thing that a threesome should be. A punishing, relentless listen, with unexpected twists, Ὁπλίτης has once again cranked out a fascinating record, and in record time.

Infant Island // Obsidian Wreath [January 12th, 2024 – Secret Voice]

Infant Island is new to me but, apparently, not to all—I’ve seen a fair bit of buzz around these guys—and Obsidian Wreath is the Virginians’ third record. Probably best tagged as blackened screamo, this record has contradictory feelings of warmth and utterly despairing rage. The band themselves cite Panopticon and Deafheaven as influences. I can hear both in their sound, the melodic complexity of the former, and the atmospheric wall-of-sound style of the latter. However, there are a few other things going on in the mix, with something of the frantic, chaotic precision of Pupil Slicer (“Fulfilled”), as well as the haunted and melodic deathgaze of Kardashev (“Amaranthine” and “Kindling”). Guitarists Alexander Rudenshiold and Winston Givler create such a dense morass of sound, that it often feels like there are more than two guitar lines in play, while Kyle Guerra’s bass adds something faintly grindcore-esque to the mix. All five members are credited with the vocals, which are throat-shredding and packed with pain, mourning, and frustration. Obsidian Wreath is a brutal, percussive listen, that feels like it’s tearing open your ears so that it can scream directly into your brain. At the same time, dark and unsettling electronica and arrangements (“Found Hand”) play a part in lulling the battered listener, preparing you for the next assault, as does the mix, which is surprisingly rich for all the pummelling. Although Infant Island is a screamo band, they reach with confidence into other genres for inspiration, making for a much more interesting proposition.

Thus Spoke’s Reviled Ramblings

Cognizance // Phantazein [January 26th, 2024 – Willowtip]

As most of them are from Leeds, I would have expected Cognizance to know that the objectively correct, British spelling is Cognisance, actually.2 But what the Loiners3 might lack in grammatical precision, they more than makeup for in musical style. Finessing their brand of tech-death, which falls somewhere between The Faceless and Allegaeon, Phantazein realizes the convergence of grooviness, melodic catchiness, and technicality with panache. Stomping, neck-snapping, and irresistibly foot-tapping rhythms tumble over one another with precise eagerness (“Ceremonial Vigour,” “Futureless Horizon,” “The Towering Monument”). Punchy, satisfyingly urgent melodies lead the way in chunky, groovy guitar dances (“A Brain Dead Memoir,” “Shock Heuristics,” “Shadowgraph”). With the exception of the (unnecessary) echoing interlude “Alferov,” this thing wrestles and roils its way into and around your general head area. It’s snappy, slick, and smooth. Phantazein (I think) comes from the Greek meaning “to appear,” as in, to seem a certain way. It seems to me, at least, that Phantazein is a banger.

Resin Tomb // Cerebral Purgatory [January 19th, 2024 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Having stolen this from Ferox‘s rightful hands due to his punishing work schedule, I find myself, not for the first, or the last time this year I’m sure, singing the praises of a Transcending Obscurity release. But Cerebral Purgatory deserves praise in its own right. Punishingly heavy, yet remarkably listenable, it sees Resin Tomb filter grindy percussive assaults and dissonant death metal through a hard/grind-core medium. Barking screams breaking across ringing, tremolo-ing descending scales and tempos from charge to crushing, headbanging groove. Clanging, twanging guitar beats aggressive and menacing patterns (“Flesh Brick,” “Scalded,” “Putrescence”). Sometimes, this makes for pleasingly slick, melancholic melodies, that play out with stalking grace (title track, “Human Confetti,” “Concrete Crypt”). Other times, relentless blastbeating or chonky bass chugging provides the background for the axe’s more dissonant angularity (“Dysphoria,” “Purge Fluid,” “Flesh Brick”). Like “a more hardcore-y Nightmarer,”4 or perhaps even an extreme metal Knocked Loose mixed with Nothingness. Seriously, just listen to it.

Mystikus Hugebeards’s Stupendous Scrolls

Albion // Lakesongs of Elbid [January 27th, 2024 – Self-Release]

I’ve been on a folk metal streak of late, yet I’ve struggled to find something that really gripped me the way I wanted. Thus did fate decree that some watery tart hangin’ about in ponds would lob a sword at me in the form of Lakesongs of Elbid, the debut album by the British folk band Albion. This album transposes Celtic folklore into lush, lightly proggy folk metal in the vein of Big Big Train, and is written like the music you hear in your head when you picture a grand quest to Camelot or the Isles of Avalon. “Arthurian Overture” begins the journey in earnest, the music cresting triumphant, orchestral hills and striding through valleys of flute passages, all to the rhythmic footsteps of the guitars. From there, Lakesongs of Elbid explores a wide array of musical locales that can range from direct, determined metal riffs (“Finding Avalon”), traces of British tavern rock (“Barret’s Privateers,” “Silvaplana Rock”), or somber, acoustic folk (“Camlann”). The quest is spearheaded by Joe Parrish-James, whose vocals effortlessly merge the buttery smooth cadence of a seasoned storyteller with a youthful yearning for adventure. That idea of adventure is the beating heart of Lakesongs of Elbid; I can think of a few bands that so easily transport the listener to a new world of vibrant color and sound. Adventurous, enchanting, tons of fun, and extraordinarily British.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Slippery Sermon

Cancer Christ // God Is Violence [January 5th, 2024 – Seeing Red Records]

HAIL CHRIST! HAIL CHRIST!! DO YOU SEE THE LIGHT? DO YOU SEE IT?? IT’S AT THE END OF A TUNNEL FILLED WITH RAPISTS, SATANISTS, PEOPLE WHO DON’T BELIEVE IN GOD’S LOVE. “SATAN IS A BITCH.” SEE THE LIGHT. SEE JESUS CHRIST. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD CAN BE A BETTER PLACE. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD NEEDS RIFFS. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD DOESN’T NEED COPS. “GOD HATES COPS.” THEY STAND IN THE WAY OF GOD’S POWER. HUBRIS! JESUS KNOWS THAT WE’RE ALL BETTER DEAD THAN ALIVE. JESUS CAN KILL US ALL JUST FINE HE DOESN’T NEED COPS. DID YOU HEAR? DID YOU HEAR JESUS’ WORD?? WE NEED TO “BRING BACK THE GUILLOTINE” — WE NEED TO CIRCLE PIT AROUND THE SINNERS AND CHOP THEIR HEADS OFF. CHOP THEIR HEADS OFF!! THE ONLY WAY THEY’LL SEE GOD’S LOVE IS IF THEY’RE DEAD. DO YOU HEAR THE SCREECHING? THAT HIGH-PITCHED SQUIRMING? THAT THRASHY RHYTHMIC PULSE? THAT’S THE ONLY WAY WE’LL GET THESE SINNERS WHO HAVE BEEN “BAPTIZED IN PISS AND SHIT.” HAIL CHRIST! HAIL CHRIST!! WE HAVE SKANKS (BEATS)! WE HAVE MENTAL BREAKDOWNS! “JESUS GOT A BIG OL’ COCK” TOO! IF YOU DESIRE SALVATION YOU’LL WORSHIP CHRIST IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU. SPREAD JESUS’ LOVE LIKE HE’S SPREAD HIS SEED ACROSS THE WORLD. CANCER CHRIST HAS LAID THE PATH BEFORE YOU. DON’T LISTEN TO LESSER GOSPELS EVEN IF THEY SOUND SIMILAR. DEAD KENNEDYS ARE OLD BUT NOT AS OLD AS HIS WISDOM. CHILD BITE HAS NO CLUE OF THE PATH OF GOD. TRAP THEM DOESN’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO BUILD A CROSS LET ALONE HOW TO NAIL JESUS SINNERS TO ONE. COVER YOURSELF IN “THE BLOOD OF JESUS” TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM THESE DIRECTIONLESS GOSPELS WHO KNOW NOTHING OF THE LOVE OF GOD. FILL YOUR LIFE WITH MEANING. FILL YOUR LIFE WITH JESUS’ CUM. “GOD BLESS THE RAPISTS.” GOD IS THRASH. GOD IS NOISE. GOD IS LOVE. GOD IS VIOLENCE. HAIL CHRIST!!! HAIL!!!! CHRIST!!!!!5

Dear Hollow’s Magnanimous Muddle

Her Last Sight // Picture Perfect [January 19th, 2024 – Liron Avital Productions / Self-Released]

You see metalcore, you run? Well run, bitch, run. Cuz Her Last Sight is bringing back the 2000s metalcore that made Hot Topic-obsessed millennials go absolutely bananas. Being that this was my well-trod path to the harsher realities of metal’s more textured offerings, I was all for giving Picture Perfect after seeing the Israelis’ incredibly accomplished guitarist Ofek Asulin’s insane licks on TikTok. While completely acknowledging that this bad boy is not going to change your mind on metalcore, Picture Perfect is core nostalgia through and through. Parkway Drive’s fist-pumping brutality collides with As I Lay Dying’s wild technicality, fed through the riff-happy arpeggio machines of Killswitch Engage or Trivium with clean choruses and heart-wrenching melodies straight outta In Hearts Wake or The Amity Affliction. Breakdowns and wild riffs dominate tracks like “In Dying Light,” “Horizons,” and “R.I.P.”, while the soaring choruses of “Paralyzed,” “Careless,” and “Heart // Mind” remain seared in the mind. While the too-loud and frail clean vocals are too often a weak link, the album is overlong, and the sparse electronic trip-hop influence feels largely unnecessary, the formidable technicality and solid songwriting grant Her Last Sight a relatively guilt-free nostalgia trip with Picture Perfect.

Hyloxalus // Make Me the Heart of the Black Hole [January 26th, 2024 – Self-Release]

For those of you who have read my reviews before, you know how much I am not a power metal guy. I reviewed Moonlight Haze twice to make myself more marketable when I first joined these halls, but it is far and away not my cup of tea. Thus, I was cautiously intrigued by the “dark power metal” tag of the Edmonton trio Hyloxalus. How this translates is that we are graced with the powerful operatic vocals of Nina Laderoute while instrumentalists Danial “AniMal” Devost and Mike Bell offer a noisy and relentless thrash riff-forwardness that feels both kickass and cold. Channeling Nightwish’s weirder and heavier moments, the trio rockets its sound to the cosmos, where we’re granted sounds expansive, exploratory, and epic (“Undead in Ward 6,” “Sailors Underneath the Waves”), while unforgiving coldness and isolation are constant reminders of the darkness (“He Dies in the Swamp,” “Severed from the Reborn Sun”). Don’t get me wrong, Hyloxalus is far from perfect in a tinny production and wonky mixing, while slower tracks like “Dream Chasm” and “Beyond the Soil” get bogged down by sluggish tempos. However, Make Me the Heart of the Black Hole is a ton of fun from a young band with a unique and weirdass sound that may just capture your heart.

#Aephanemer #Aether #AgesOfMan #Albion #AmericanMetal #AsILayDying #AustralianMetal #BigBigTrain #CancerChrist #CerebralPurgatory #ChildBite #ChineseMetal #Cognizance #ConveyanceInDeath #DarkOath #DeadKennedys #Deafheaven #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DoomMetal #Dvne #Emperor #FallsOfRauros #FolkMetal #FrenchMetal #GodIsViolence #Gorgon #Grindcore #Hardcore #HeavyMetal #HerLastSight #Hoplites #Hyolaxus #IKProductions #Ilion #InHeartsWake #InfantIsland #IronMaiden #JohnZorn #Kardashev #KazakhstaniMetal #KillswitchEngage #KnockedLoose #LakesongsOfElbid #LironAvitalProductions #MakeMeTheHeartOfTheBlackHole #MelodicBlackMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #Metalcore #MoonlightHaze #Niemaracz #Nightmarer #Nightwish #Nothingness #ObsidianWreath #Panopticon #ParkwayDrive #Phantazein #PicturePerfect #PortugueseMetal #PowerMetal #ProgressiveBlackMetal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychedelicMetal #PupilSlicer #ResinTomb #Review #Reviews #Rhûn #Screamo #SecretVoids #SeeingRedRecords #SelfRelease #Slift #Sludge #StonerDoom #StonerMetal #StuckInTheFilter #SubPopRecords #SymphonicMetal #SymphonicPowerMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal #TheAmityAffliction #TheTalesOfTheDeepForest #TranscendingObscurityRecords #TrapThem #Trivium #UKMetal #VitriolicSage #Vredehammer #WhiteWard #WillowtipRecords #Ὁπλίτης #Παραμαινομένη

Stuck in the Filter: January’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

March is but a few days away (at the time of writing), so, naturally, we at AMG and Sons feel it’s finally time to leave 2023 behind. Entering 2024 with a fresh vat of anger juice to fuel our findings, we trudge through the thin metal walls of our ever-taxed filtration system. And boy howdy did we get lucky this month!

January’s Filter is stuffed to the gills with great options, sure to find a home in the arms of one of you despicable rascals lovely readers. If there was ever a Filter stocked enough to feed an entire readership in one fell swoop, it’s this one. Now, go! Feast!

Kenstrosity’s Scuzzy Slags

Dark Oath // Ages of Man [January 18th, 2024 – Self Release]

Portuguese symphonic, melodic death metal five-piece1 Dark Oath quietly dropped its sophomore effort Ages of Man to an unsuspecting public midway through January. After a whopping eight years since their debut When Fire Engulfs the Earth released, surely expectations for fans run high. As for me, this is my first foray, and this follow-up is nothing short of striking. Immediately recalling Aephanemer’s excellent Prokopton and Aether’s In Embers, riffs aren’t Ages of Man’s focus. Rather, epic guitar licks and leads command the charge with a cavalcade of orchestral layers forming an army of triumphant melodies and counterpoint just behind (“Gold I” and “Gold II”). Prominently featured and wonderfully effective, acoustic plucking from what sounds like a bouzouki evokes the magnificence and reverent tones of Gorgon’s Elegy, creating another core character for this epic journey that deepens the experience further (“Silver I,” “Bronze I,” “Bronze II”). While I occasionally pine for more engaging, groovy riffs to provide greater dynamics than the chugging gallops utilized instead, there’s no denying that Dark Oath’s infectious melodies and danceable rhythms punch far above the weight of forty-two minutes of lush, epic material (“Silver II,” “Heroic I,” “Iron”). At the end of the day, if you wanna go on cinematic adventures in the near future, queue up Ages of Man. It will be your guide.

Rhûn // Conveyance in Death [January 26th, 2024 – I.K. Productions]

Falls of Rauros’ founding member Aaron Charles, known for his emotive and vicious howls and creative guitar work, established solo act Rhûn back in 2021. Over the past year, a set of singles hinted at what debut full-length Conveyance in Death might hold for the Portland, Maine multi-instrumentalist. Now that it’s unleashed upon the world, this record proves to be a compelling amalgam of atmospheric black metal, post-black, and death metal. Opener “Morningstar” showcases all of these facets with aplomb, shifting from crushing riffs to a gorgeous trem-based ascension in the final third. Further down the line, Song o’ the Year contender “Bone Ornament” suitably shatters my bones with its awesome main riff, swaggering groove, and vicarious pacing. Other interesting forays into multifaceted modality and doom-laden marches help define the darker “Tomb of Andesite” and “Citadels in Ruins.” At a tight thirty-seven minutes of quality material, there’s little here that needs editing, although some lengthier passages in “Howl of Gleaming Swords” and closer “Night’s Glacial Passing” could stand a thirty-second trim here or there. Nonetheless, this is a strong launch for the fledgling project, and I can’t wait to hear how Aaron develops it in the future.

Niemaracz // The Tales of the Dense Forest [January 31st, 2024 – Self Release]

Hailing from Almaty, Kazakhstan, uber-obscure stoner doom black metal band Niemaracz doesn’t even have a date of establishment listed on Metallum. Pulling from fuzzy doom metal, languid stoner rock, folk-tinged heavy metal, and witchy black metal, debut record The Tales of the Dense Forest ushers in a sound I can’t say I’ve ever heard before. Icy and warm, rich and sharp, relaxed and blistering, these sprawling soundscapes challenge every preconception I held for not one, but four distinct styles. Yet, coming in at just under thirty minutes, this record marries them all as fluidly as a babbling brook glides over stone. With the immersive opener, “The Experiment,” Niemaracz’s high-fantasy fueled melodies and classic riffs impress with their uncanny synchronicity, while the fuzzy and warm production deepens the music’s cohesion. Album highlight, “The Faithful Horse,” manages to blend classic Iron Maiden gallops with the sort of furious black metal I’d sooner expect from Emperor, all wrapped up in stoned fuzz, and it’s fascinating. Sometimes, the clean baritones are far too forward in the mix, throwing that delicate balance of tones and textures way off. Thankfully, the consistently entertaining and novel songwriting makes it all worthwhile (“The Secret of Longevity”). Go check them out, and give their lone Bandcamp supporter a new friend!

Tales From the Garden

Slift // Ilion [January 19th, 2024 – Sub Pop Records]

I am going to preface this glowing recommendation by saying that this fucking behemoth is far too long. It’s nigh-on 80 minutes of dense, twisting, and very French psychedelic madness, and the brain can only contain so much of that for so long. The reason I am posting it here anyway is that it is really good dense twisting French psychedelic madness. Slift became an underground darling after 2020’s Ummon, which got them enough acclaim to be Artist in Residence at the 2022 edition of Roadburn, where I first became acquainted with the Toulouse formation. Ilion is a feverish album, a chase through winding soundscapes that always change but never end, layers of vocals and synths passing in and out of view, the hefty riffs hammering your back and Frenchmen hollering at you from behind. Slift has been getting heavier with each release and now firmly finds itself in sludge territory. The phenomenal drums are the tone, the pace, and the foundation here, a colossal presence even if their sound isn’t massive per se. They remind most of the climactic sequences Dvne so excels at, a bludgeoning dynamic shuffle that feels like getting caught in an avalanche, but retaining their old-school jam-band roots. Thankfully there’s enough variation to mitigate the bloat a bit, from left-field saxophone intermissions to more mid-paced material like the excellent atmospheric doom of “Weavers’ Weft.” Ilion is a deep, deep well, but a richly rewarding one for fans of heavy psych.

Carcharodon’s Fanged Fancies

Ὁπλίτης // Παραμαινομένη [January 12th, 2024 – Self-released]

At this point, I am almost relieved that the Chinese black metal-making machine known as Ὁπλίτης (Hoplites, for those of us not well versed in Ancient Greek) resolutely continues to not send us promo. Such is his level of productivity and, crucially, consistency, that I fear I would spend a fair chunk of my time just writing >3.0 reviews for his various projects (Vitriolic Sage being another good one). A case in point, his latest offering, Ὁπλίτης, is another absolute banger. Π​α​ρ​α​μ​α​ι​ν​ο​μ​έ​ν​η actually offers something slightly different from previous outings. While still very much playing in the almost clinically harsh black metal space, there is a more present and more vicious bass groove to this (fifth track “Συμμιαινόμεναι Διονύσῳ Ἐλευθέριῳ”), as well as, more surprisingly, a lot of freeform jazz elements. Screaming sax and trumpets are a big component, particularly in the first half of the record, giving the whole a feeling of White Ward and John Zorn having a particularly raucous threesome with Vredehammer. There is nothing tender about what’s happening though; it’s furious, pummelling, experimental… at least one of which is a thing that a threesome should be. A punishing, relentless listen, with unexpected twists, Ὁπλίτης has once again cranked out a fascinating record, and in record time.

Infant Island // Obsidian Wreath [January 12th, 2024 – Secret Voice]

Infant Island is new to me but, apparently, not to all—I’ve seen a fair bit of buzz around these guys—and Obsidian Wreath is the Virginians’ third record. Probably best tagged as blackened screamo, this record has contradictory feelings of warmth and utterly despairing rage. The band themselves cite Panopticon and Deafheaven as influences. I can hear both in their sound, the melodic complexity of the former, and the atmospheric wall-of-sound style of the latter. However, there are a few other things going on in the mix, with something of the frantic, chaotic precision of Pupil Slicer (“Fulfilled”), as well as the haunted and melodic deathgaze of Kardashev (“Amaranthine” and “Kindling”). Guitarists Alexander Rudenshiold and Winston Givler create such a dense morass of sound, that it often feels like there are more than two guitar lines in play, while Kyle Guerra’s bass adds something faintly grindcore-esque to the mix. All five members are credited with the vocals, which are throat-shredding and packed with pain, mourning, and frustration. Obsidian Wreath is a brutal, percussive listen, that feels like it’s tearing open your ears so that it can scream directly into your brain. At the same time, dark and unsettling electronica and arrangements (“Found Hand”) play a part in lulling the battered listener, preparing you for the next assault, as does the mix, which is surprisingly rich for all the pummelling. Although Infant Island is a screamo band, they reach with confidence into other genres for inspiration, making for a much more interesting proposition.

Thus Spoke’s Reviled Ramblings

Cognizance // Phantazein [January 26th, 2024 – Willowtip]

As most of them are from Leeds, I would have expected Cognizance to know that the objectively correct, British spelling is Cognisance, actually.2 But what the Loiners3 might lack in grammatical precision, they more than makeup for in musical style. Finessing their brand of tech-death, which falls somewhere between The Faceless and Allegaeon, Phantazein realizes the convergence of grooviness, melodic catchiness, and technicality with panache. Stomping, neck-snapping, and irresistibly foot-tapping rhythms tumble over one another with precise eagerness (“Ceremonial Vigour,” “Futureless Horizon,” “The Towering Monument”). Punchy, satisfyingly urgent melodies lead the way in chunky, groovy guitar dances (“A Brain Dead Memoir,” “Shock Heuristics,” “Shadowgraph”). With the exception of the (unnecessary) echoing interlude “Alferov,” this thing wrestles and roils its way into and around your general head area. It’s snappy, slick, and smooth. Phantazein (I think) comes from the Greek meaning “to appear,” as in, to seem a certain way. It seems to me, at least, that Phantazein is a banger.

Resin Tomb // Cerebral Purgatory [January 19th, 2024 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Having stolen this from Ferox‘s rightful hands due to his punishing work schedule, I find myself, not for the first, or the last time this year I’m sure, singing the praises of a Transcending Obscurity release. But Cerebral Purgatory deserves praise in its own right. Punishingly heavy, yet remarkably listenable, it sees Resin Tomb filter grindy percussive assaults and dissonant death metal through a hard/grind-core medium. Barking screams breaking across ringing, tremolo-ing descending scales and tempos from charge to crushing, headbanging groove. Clanging, twanging guitar beats aggressive and menacing patterns (“Flesh Brick,” “Scalded,” “Putrescence”). Sometimes, this makes for pleasingly slick, melancholic melodies, that play out with stalking grace (title track, “Human Confetti,” “Concrete Crypt”). Other times, relentless blastbeating or chonky bass chugging provides the background for the axe’s more dissonant angularity (“Dysphoria,” “Purge Fluid,” “Flesh Brick”). Like “a more hardcore-y Nightmarer,”4 or perhaps even an extreme metal Knocked Loose mixed with Nothingness. Seriously, just listen to it.

Mystikus Hugebeards’s Stupendous Scrolls

Albion // Lakesongs of Elbid [January 27th, 2024 – Self-Release]

I’ve been on a folk metal streak of late, yet I’ve struggled to find something that really gripped me the way I wanted. Thus did fate decree that some watery tart hangin’ about in ponds would lob a sword at me in the form of Lakesongs of Elbid, the debut album by the British folk band Albion. This album transposes Celtic folklore into lush, lightly proggy folk metal in the vein of Big Big Train, and is written like the music you hear in your head when you picture a grand quest to Camelot or the Isles of Avalon. “Arthurian Overture” begins the journey in earnest, the music cresting triumphant, orchestral hills and striding through valleys of flute passages, all to the rhythmic footsteps of the guitars. From there, Lakesongs of Elbid explores a wide array of musical locales that can range from direct, determined metal riffs (“Finding Avalon”), traces of British tavern rock (“Barret’s Privateers,” “Silvaplana Rock”), or somber, acoustic folk (“Camlann”). The quest is spearheaded by Joe Parrish-James, whose vocals effortlessly merge the buttery smooth cadence of a seasoned storyteller with a youthful yearning for adventure. That idea of adventure is the beating heart of Lakesongs of Elbid; I can think of a few bands that so easily transport the listener to a new world of vibrant color and sound. Adventurous, enchanting, tons of fun, and extraordinarily British.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Slippery Sermon

Cancer Christ // God Is Violence [January 5th, 2024 – Seeing Red Records]

HAIL CHRIST! HAIL CHRIST!! DO YOU SEE THE LIGHT? DO YOU SEE IT?? IT’S AT THE END OF A TUNNEL FILLED WITH RAPISTS, SATANISTS, PEOPLE WHO DON’T BELIEVE IN GOD’S LOVE. “SATAN IS A BITCH.” SEE THE LIGHT. SEE JESUS CHRIST. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD CAN BE A BETTER PLACE. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD NEEDS RIFFS. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD DOESN’T NEED COPS. “GOD HATES COPS.” THEY STAND IN THE WAY OF GOD’S POWER. HUBRIS! JESUS KNOWS THAT WE’RE ALL BETTER DEAD THAN ALIVE. JESUS CAN KILL US ALL JUST FINE HE DOESN’T NEED COPS. DID YOU HEAR? DID YOU HEAR JESUS’ WORD?? WE NEED TO “BRING BACK THE GUILLOTINE” — WE NEED TO CIRCLE PIT AROUND THE SINNERS AND CHOP THEIR HEADS OFF. CHOP THEIR HEADS OFF!! THE ONLY WAY THEY’LL SEE GOD’S LOVE IS IF THEY’RE DEAD. DO YOU HEAR THE SCREECHING? THAT HIGH-PITCHED SQUIRMING? THAT THRASHY RHYTHMIC PULSE? THAT’S THE ONLY WAY WE’LL GET THESE SINNERS WHO HAVE BEEN “BAPTIZED IN PISS AND SHIT.” HAIL CHRIST! HAIL CHRIST!! WE HAVE SKANKS (BEATS)! WE HAVE MENTAL BREAKDOWNS! “JESUS GOT A BIG OL’ COCK” TOO! IF YOU DESIRE SALVATION YOU’LL WORSHIP CHRIST IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU. SPREAD JESUS’ LOVE LIKE HE’S SPREAD HIS SEED ACROSS THE WORLD. CANCER CHRIST HAS LAID THE PATH BEFORE YOU. DON’T LISTEN TO LESSER GOSPELS EVEN IF THEY SOUND SIMILAR. DEAD KENNEDYS ARE OLD BUT NOT AS OLD AS HIS WISDOM. CHILD BITE HAS NO CLUE OF THE PATH OF GOD. TRAP THEM DOESN’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO BUILD A CROSS LET ALONE HOW TO NAIL JESUS SINNERS TO ONE. COVER YOURSELF IN “THE BLOOD OF JESUS” TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM THESE DIRECTIONLESS GOSPELS WHO KNOW NOTHING OF THE LOVE OF GOD. FILL YOUR LIFE WITH MEANING. FILL YOUR LIFE WITH JESUS’ CUM. “GOD BLESS THE RAPISTS.” GOD IS THRASH. GOD IS NOISE. GOD IS LOVE. GOD IS VIOLENCE. HAIL CHRIST!!! HAIL!!!! CHRIST!!!!!5

Dear Hollow’s Magnanimous Muddle

Her Last Sight // Picture Perfect [January 19th, 2024 – Liron Avital Productions / Self-Released]

You see metalcore, you run? Well run, bitch, run. Cuz Her Last Sight is bringing back the 2000s metalcore that made Hot Topic-obsessed millennials go absolutely bananas. Being that this was my well-trod path to the harsher realities of metal’s more textured offerings, I was all for giving Picture Perfect after seeing the Israelis’ incredibly accomplished guitarist Ofek Asulin’s insane licks on TikTok. While completely acknowledging that this bad boy is not going to change your mind on metalcore, Picture Perfect is core nostalgia through and through. Parkway Drive’s fist-pumping brutality collides with As I Lay Dying’s wild technicality, fed through the riff-happy arpeggio machines of Killswitch Engage or Trivium with clean choruses and heart-wrenching melodies straight outta In Hearts Wake or The Amity Affliction. Breakdowns and wild riffs dominate tracks like “In Dying Light,” “Horizons,” and “R.I.P.”, while the soaring choruses of “Paralyzed,” “Careless,” and “Heart // Mind” remain seared in the mind. While the too-loud and frail clean vocals are too often a weak link, the album is overlong, and the sparse electronic trip-hop influence feels largely unnecessary, the formidable technicality and solid songwriting grant Her Last Sight a relatively guilt-free nostalgia trip with Picture Perfect.

Hyloxalus // Make Me the Heart of the Black Hole [January 26th, 2024 – Self-Release]

For those of you who have read my reviews before, you know how much I am not a power metal guy. I reviewed Moonlight Haze twice to make myself more marketable when I first joined these halls, but it is far and away not my cup of tea. Thus, I was cautiously intrigued by the “dark power metal” tag of the Edmonton trio Hyloxalus. How this translates is that we are graced with the powerful operatic vocals of Nina Laderoute while instrumentalists Danial “AniMal” Devost and Mike Bell offer a noisy and relentless thrash riff-forwardness that feels both kickass and cold. Channeling Nightwish’s weirder and heavier moments, the trio rockets its sound to the cosmos, where we’re granted sounds expansive, exploratory, and epic (“Undead in Ward 6,” “Sailors Underneath the Waves”), while unforgiving coldness and isolation are constant reminders of the darkness (“He Dies in the Swamp,” “Severed from the Reborn Sun”). Don’t get me wrong, Hyloxalus is far from perfect in a tinny production and wonky mixing, while slower tracks like “Dream Chasm” and “Beyond the Soil” get bogged down by sluggish tempos. However, Make Me the Heart of the Black Hole is a ton of fun from a young band with a unique and weirdass sound that may just capture your heart.

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