Patton Oswalt has a bit about not being interested in where the things he love came from, specifically speaking of the “Star Wars” films. He makes good points. Did we need to see Darth Vader as a blonde-haired boy? Boba Fett as a child? I mean, any of the Gungans? Perhaps not, though the films can help you make connections, strange as they may be.

“All Gates Open” isn’t exactly that for Blood Incantation—vocalist/guitarist Paul Riedl, guitarist Morris Kolontyrsky, fretless bassist Jeff Barrett, drummer Isaac Faulk—but it does give you a lot of hints as to why their amazing third LP “Absolute Elsewhere” turned out the way it did, as this music was composed before that record even came to be. And the four ambient, synth-rich, cosmos-fueled tracks and an hour of music act as a soundtrack for the documentary of the same name, detailing the genesis of “Elsewhere.” Weidl calls it a “yang” to “Timewave Zero,” their first fully instrumental release, and there’s a lot of logic there. It’s a different pathway into their brains fully devoid of brutality and death metal.   

“Balance” opens calmly, space passing by your window, icy keys plinking as the atmosphere grows more immersive. The dreaminess thickens accompanied by fluttering notes and breezy bolts of imagination, the fog building to an unmanageable level, thoughts spilling through the mind. Sounds ring as a new reality dawns, keys lull then zap, a rubbery strangeness forms and sweeps at the stars. “Flight” emits a sci-fi glow, rises and pumps, the song’s heart swelling, a gentle foray into New Age magic opening. Keys swirl and swim through star belts, melodies glisten, and the edges of dreams pull you back, glistening as clicks echo and drum beats rattle. The added percussion elements drive as everything takes on a lab aura, blending into celestial light, gushing and fading.

“Dawn” is the shortest track by far at 5:43, and organs rise, lighting with a 1970s prog sheen, warming up as the synth laps and simmers, blurring your sight. Deeper sounds surface and sink again, keys murmur and vibrate, and everything returns to dust. Closer “Rain” starts with keys trancing, soothing as they awaken, sounds tingling as the mists thicken. Guitars break and give off a summery vibe, and then sounds blur as the acoustics gush, everything swirling through your mind as the elements give off an engine-like moan. A synth string blends new colors, mixing light and dark, encircling as the pressure releases.

As a film soundtrack, “All Gates Open” certainly sounds like a moving and hypnotic way to view their documentary, though having not see it yet I cannot fully understand its impact there. As a collection that shows the bridge between “Timewave Zero” and “Absolute Elsewhere,” it does act as connective tissue that shows another progression for this band’s creative and artistic process. It shouldn’t shock anyone who has been on the entire journey with this band, but it also stands as evidence as to where their heads where at before they created a  modern death metal masterpiece.    

For more on the band, go here: https://bloodincantation.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://centurymedia.store/

Or here (Europe): https://www.cmdistro.de/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.centurymedia.com/

Matriarchal ideas and philosophies are under attack, which is hardly new from a world dominated by men in leadership (or maniacal control), who feel the need to stamp out anything they deem a threat. Which is a sign of weakness, but I guess don’t tell them. The arts is an area where femininity and the idea of a goddess thrives, which we visit today.

Downfall of Nur is helmed by sole creator Antonio Sanna, and the project’s new record … take a breath… “And the Firmament Will Burn to Quench the Pain of This Earth.” This is the long-awaited follow-up to 2015’s “Umbras de Barbagia,” and it proves more than worth the way. The record and the band itself centers on Sardinian folklore and the concept of the Mother Goddess juxtaposed with human motherhood, dealing with fertility, loss, hostility, and hope. The record centers on a human who merges his spirit with the Mother Goddess and goes on a journey to help end the constant suffering. You feel every wave and earth pulse crackle over these seven tracks and 80 minutes of thunderous drama dressed in black metal, folk, and doom fury. It asks a lot of your time but rewards in full.

“Disamistade I” opens with sounds floating, voices warbling in the wind, eerie dustiness passing as a bell chimes, crumbling into space. “Beyond The Transcendent Darkness” runs 16:40 and takes a stretch to hover and create an aura, gushing with funereal energy, wails bleeding in the background, the track bursting open fully about six minutes into the mist. Atmospheric black metal hammers, ferocity lapping at wounds, the energy blazing out of control, suddenly calming as strings glaze. The drums then blast as guitars soar, the power combusts, and the earth quakes, the madness subsiding and melting away. “Disamistade II” enters amid piano drizzling, strings chilling, and a female voice calling, folkish elements dusting, fading into the distance. “Underground Halls of the Oldest Goddess Stronghold” runs a healthy 14:40, flooding as drums pelt, guitars glowing as black metal chaos explodes, the shrieks destroying the senses. The playing is fiery and mangling, a misty cold front briefly interjecting, the guitars scorching as anguished cries grab you by the neck, absolutely decimating. The drums punish as the playing spatters blood, a speaking voice rises from the din, the devastation ending in ash.

“The Great Escape” simmers before the steam rises, a mystical reach grazing your shoulder, turning your guts to ice, sounds hypnotizing before blending into the horizon. The title track runs 14:06, punching in and guiding a warm tributary, the moodiness thickening as growls wrench, unleashing viciousness. The leads light as drums ignite, tidal waving energy lapping, shrieks sending jolts of energy down your spine, the volcanic pressure pulling back and allowing calmer winds to take hold. Strings layer as growls choke, the playing upping the ante and peaking with power, bowing in reverence to the clouds. Closer “Deliverance” is the 21:13-long closer, an immersive instrumental that expands the eerie cosmic state, synth boiling as sounds warp as if under gravity from another world. The atmosphere blackens as sounds pulse and murmur, hypnotic waves sizzling your nerve endings. The playing swims through star formations, growing stranger and more electric, the sense of dread getting more profound, the final moments blurring into the sky.

“And the Firmament Will Burn to Quench the Pain of This Earth” not only is a tribute to Sardinia and its mythological history but also a take on our relationship to Mother Earth as relevant  now as it ever has been as we carve away at the planet. Downfall of Nur put so much emotion and heart into this 80-minute creation that it is worth digesting in one sitting to let it fully capture your mind and attention. This is a stunning record that challenges but gives you so much back that it’ll be living in your head and driving your brainwaves.

For more on the band, go here: https://downfallofnur.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.sound-cave.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://avantgardemusic.com/

I have been compiling a Qobuz list of classic heavy metal songs that I love for a soundtrack for evenings of beer and trying to get a chance to settle down after a constant bombardment of shitty news. The more I’ve made my way into more modern acts to add, I’ve realized just how much Khemmis fit across all eras, as their songs blend seamlessly.

The band’s new, fifth record is a self-titled affair, and it’s a pretty damn Khemmis record if we’re being honest. Which is good, by the way. Building off what they created on “Deceiver” (that was FIVE YEARS AGO?!) and adding more thorny moments more reminiscent of their first two records, the band—vocalist/guitarist Phil Pendergast, guitarist/vocalist Ben Hutcherson, bassist David Small, drummer Zach Coleman—keeps their machine running smoothly and efficiently, creating sounds that burst with classic metal flavor, doomy clouds, and glorious power, making it something you can put on and get lost inside of while you take this journey with them.

“Invocation of the Dreamer” opens with guitars on fire, a glorious metallic blaze with Pendergast’s clean calls soaring. The chorus is a warmer, overtaking you, and the excitement takes a  moment to exhale before Pendergast urges, “Breathe onto me, pull the tether from my neck,” before the swarm fades. “Corpsebloom Garden” is punchy as hell, the singing jolting, another sticky chorus flooding your senses. Leads encircle as Hutcherson’s growls wrench, adding ugliness to the proceedings, the battle against vile creatures spilling over, guitars burning into the night. “Grief’s Reverie” is punchy and burly, balmier than what preceded it, a slower, moodier pace digging in its claws. “Written on my lips is the invocation,” Pendergast calls, growls battering, warm leads pushing before the guitars glimmer into the distance. “Beneath the Scythe” has leads twisting and the pace galloping, the verses surging before the chorus rushes. The pace electrifies and then slips into a spacey, airy section, gliding as smoke builds before blanketing everything.

“Gilded Chambers” begins with hammering drumming, guitars catching fire, and a spirited rush, harmonized singing layering. Growls punish as the guitars flex, cool bursts sending ice daggers, the singing gripping as the final moments fade. “Tomb of Roses” dawns in acoustics before the pace ignites, Pendergast wailing, “Find the courage and strength to break these chains.” A thick fog hovers as the soloing cuts out of that, melting through the chaos, the moonlit chorus bathing in a fresh glow, the leads blazing to the stars. “Carrion King” is instantly crushing, growls punching as the intensity spikes, ugliness and light continually doing battle. “Behind the shame that binds me, no one can save me from myself,” Pendergast sings, the pace trudging, growls gutting, a slow-driving assault ending in echo. Closer “Benediction Tones” is a mauler with the singing rousing, growls smearing, and the pace smoldering dangerously. The chorus squeezes emotion as the band settles into a tasty classic rock groove, the guitars whipping a frenzy before going to the cosmos.

Khemmis always find a way to deliver like they do on this new self-titled creation, which is another sturdy volume in their growing library of classic metal and doom. There’s something from every era of the band on this record, and getting more grisly vocals from Hutcherson makes this a little thornier. This is a tried-and-true Khemmis record, an album that feels electric and adventurous from beginning to end.

For more on the band, go here: https://khemmisdoom.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://khemmis.bandcamp.com/album/khemmis-2

Most bands, when you get a new record from them, are fairly easy to predict, and that’s not a negative at all. Groups spend years crafting a sound and direction, and it would be silly for some to continue taking different paths, leaving your audience scurrying. For others, there is freshness in taking new avenues, which keeps them a bleeding, breathing animal.

Big|Brave is not like most entities, and their great 10^th album “in grief or in hope” is another evolutionary step for this trio—guitarist/vocalist Robin Wattie, guitarist Mat Ball, and bassist Liam Andrews, the newcomer to the band. On these eight songs, the band takes a more liquid journey, melting into new forms, guitars taking the lead and creating abnormal soundscapes that set up visions you couldn’t before imagine. Wattie’s singing is a voice working through the webs, often delicate, sometimes piercing, always grabbing your attention. It’s a record that, if you have an open mind, can be as sticky as anything with hooks and sugar splattered all over it.

“what may be the kindest way to leave” opens with singing swelling, an electric pall spreading quickly, a steely echo scraping wounds, feedback lapping over walls. Deeper vocals ice, a sonic bubble growing, throbbing as guitars glow, words humming before fading. “a shape of shame” enters in a sound maw, Wattie’s singing poking, glazing as the spirit haunts, noise spitting and scraping. Wattie shrieks as things grow moodier, darkness gathering, noises hanging in the air as the scene fades. “the ineptitude for mutual discernment” scuffles as the singing stings, sounds swirling through what feels like a burgundy-shaded dream. The jolts soothe as the volume calms, the embers flickering off black walls, slowly going to sleep. “holding tongue” murmurs, guitars awakening, gently lulling through a sunless afternoon. Suddenly the cosmos surrounds you, echoes ricocheting inside your head, machines seemingly breathing.

The title track has the volume building slowly, the singing emerging, slowly spilling shadows as pressure builds. Guitars jolts jar as Wattie’s voice warps and slows behind her own, sounds gaining strength before subsiding. “verdure” has energy rippling, sounds blurring, and the sense that physical weight is piling on top of you. Seismic interference shakes foundations, a current spitting, tearing through the center of the earth. “skin ripper” has guitars swelling, singing numbing, the playing carrying on through the wind, hazy meandering feeling through the fog. Waves lap as Wattie’s singing lathers, the final moments sinking into the dirt. Closer “an uttering of antipathy” both glows and bruises, Wattie’s singing arriving more directly, the playing numbing deeply. “God only blames me,” Wattie repeats, later changing to, “You only blame me,” her voice quivering. Gray cloud coverage spreads wildly, the guitars spiking and tangling before cutting out.

“in grief or in hope” is a record that basks in colorless landscapes and stark skies, which is a strange way to praise a really inventive album. Big|Brave never come back in the same form, and while this may be their most approachable record, that still will be an at-arms-length situation to many. But not everyone needs to be invited inside to scan the scars and songs that continue to morph into different things, but those allowed in are bound to chang psychologically and existentially.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.bigbrave.ca/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.thrilljockey.com/products/in-grief-or-in-hope

For more on the label, go here: https://www.thrilljockey.com/

It’s close to summer here on the East Coast of the U.S. (and elsewhere…), and the days of stomping through graveyards is about to reach its apex, with Halloween and the autumn  months the peak. Who doesn’t have a story about drinking or doing other substances where the dead lie, having strange experiences, and wondering what reality is?

D.C.’s Goetia arrive with their debut full-length “Mortuary Cult,” 10 tracks of smothering, guttural death metal inspired by stories from their own sojourns through cemeteries in their own stomping grounds. It’s a morbid, dark experience that drags you over gravel and roots, leaving you bruised and bloodied as you struggle to stay in one piece. The band—vocalist/bassist Matt Scott, guitarist Demir Soyer, drummer Nadia Tydings-Lynch—brings merciless destruction that haunts deeply and completely assaults your sense, the bodies buried beneath the dirt thirsting for your flesh and blood.

“At Eternity’s Gate” is a quick intro piece with swirling sounds and drums echoing, blurring into “Lanterns of the Dead” that tears open from the start. Growls ravage as the vicious pace batters flesh, scorching leads doing further damage. Leads boil before the soloing sprawls, thrashing hard as the drums pelt, and the final blast leaves dust behind. “Posthumous Execution” is a quick assault that’s doesn’t even reach two minutes but does its best to abuse you. Demonic howls and destructive speed team up to lay down a massive beating, soloing blinding before everything is gone in a flash. The title track lands punches, using a mangling tempo to create a feral atmosphere, snarling vocals going for blood. The machine-gun pace makes your cortisol race, violent trudging grinding you in the gears, clubbing as the exhaust stretches into “Corpse Candle” that enters amid a scuffing pace. Doomy tiding create a pall, the vocals scorching as the guitars increase the heat, a brawling dose of energy rampaging. The playing utterly destroys as the leads scream, and a thrashy attack smears ashes into mouths.

“Earth Inferno” is balmy and then explodes, guitars firing up, becoming a molten force that flows toward you. The soloing bubbles before the pace races again, plastering with devastating force, leaving cinders in your teeth. “Bestial Tomb” is muddy and then storming, shrieks rippling as if spitting nails and Slayer-like leads cutting through bone. A monstrous fury rocks the earth, quaking the ground, the sounds of birds and animals raising their voices as if warning something is afoot. “Excarnation” attacks, dragging you through an oil slick, combusting as the power grinds with heavy gears. The playing rips hard as everything ramps up, the tempo flattening, the soloing exploding, getting even more insane and bleeding into “Tortures in Time” that has guitars firing and electrifying, growls hammering as the playing tears open ribcages, stomping guts and choking with dust. Howls blast as vicious pathways carve into the ground, leaving everything in ashes. Closer “Eternal Samhain” delivers a doomy blow, the leads stretching and mashing, a battering ram-style force driving air from your lungs. The pace then goes off, howls slashing and rupturing, the guitars ringing in your ears, shaking your balance before burning away.

“Mortuary Cult” is a haunting, yet destructive record that aims to take off heads and put more bodies in the cemetery that inspired them. Goetia bring hideous intensity and muscular fury to their death metal, making for more of a bruising experience. This record is perfect now for midnight missions or even in the colder, spookier months when your boots can crunch death leaves in the graveyard.

For more on the band, go here: http://instagram.com/goetia_death_cult

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://carbonizedrecords.merchtable.com/?

Or here (Europe): https://carbonizedrecords.bandcamp.com/album/mortuary-cult

Or here (International): https://carbonizedrecordseu.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://carbonizedrecords.bandcamp.com/

There is a mental balancing we must do where we hope for a future where we won’t be ground in the gears of capitalism and also recognize that the combine is riding toward us, a little faster than we’d hoped. The post-apocalyptic wastelands that used to be relegated to books and films seems all the more imminent, with very little out there to protect us.

Long-running electronic-based grind (which is a really limiting description) band Genghis Tron see it too, and they smear ash from the lingering embers of our existence all over their fourth record “Signal Fire.” These 10 tracks envision a time after our reality is leveled, and human extinction has come to pass, the world left to recover from our lack of stewardship. The band—vocalist Tony Wolski, keyboardist/programmer Michael Sochynsky, guitarist Hamilton Jordan, bassist Kenny Szymanski (The Armed), and drummer Nick Yacyshyn (Sumac, Yautja)—finds a strange labyrinth of sounds that feel like they emanate from a mysterious lab and also find the metallic fire of their earlier work to make for an experience that feels like slipping in and out of a nightmare.

“I Am All” bathes in synth, Wolski singing, “So out of touch, almost obscene,” which could be seen as a biting criticism of society in 2026. Screams then explodes as the sounds swim and clash, balmy passages thicken the air, and then thorny cries ripple again, peeling back flesh and gutting. The title cut is a brief blast, guitars tangling as the singing drips, screams penetrating as the playing gets punchier, succumbing to corrosion. “Future Worship” basks in sci-fi keys as the singing floats in on a dream, and the keys flood, creating a sort of neon vibe. The chorus glides, and the tension feels very NIN-ish, beats scurrying and guitars scuffing. “Like Fotocrom” is another quick one, keys plinking as echoey singing reverberates in your mind, a thick haze covering everything. The melodies grow increasingly dreamier as the final gasps spill into the dark. “Tomorrow Mirage” begins to turn back toward more classic GT territory, howls slashing, the pace creating a trance-like state, beats confounding as the horrific elements rise. Shrieks crush as the playing blisters, beats crackling over a synth light show, bouncing off the inside of skulls, synth melting into afternoon clouds.

“Nothing Blooms in the Hollow” is ferocious as well, driving into madness, screams leaving brush burns, the energy swirling in a cyclone. The singing evens out as guitars invade and electrify, spilling fluid colors and ending in a gasp. “Without Form” is a strange, yet atmospherically fitting interlude, dark keys pulsing and creating a spacey vibe, moodiness increasing and bouncing off with laser points. “Born Prey” tears apart, the shrieks stomping animalistically, the pace utterly wrecking shop, the vocals somewhat icing over the viciousness. Keys glimmer and hover as humid melodies trickle, feeling poppy and weird, whirring into a supernova. “A Love So Pure” could be a radio hit if strange music still was permitted to operate in that space. The keys soothe as pristine singing creates an ear worm, flowing before tearing out its guts, screams blasting with acidic intent. Despite the savagery, the hooks are unavoidable and pull you in, the aura growing more immersive, the synth dropping temps as we segue into closer “New Gods” that melts into washed-out singing and vibrant pockets of colors emerging from the grey. Beats surge as the howls lash, swirling through dark tunnels that could lead anywhere, balancing serenity and madness. The playing jars and stabs, shrieks slashing sides, the final battering disappearing into a vapor cloud.

“Signal Fire” is both an apocalyptic fever dream and a distant early warning as to where humanity might unravel in fairly short order. Genghis Tron’s sound still has a few mighty tentacles sonically in where the band originally operated, with some timely electronic dreams that take us into a wasteland in which we have yet to step. It’s probably too late to hope for the best, and this record should be a salve for the future wounds.

For more on the band, go here: https://genghistron.bandcamp.com/music

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/collections/genghis-tron-signal-fire

For more on the label, go here: https://www.relapse.com/

Heaviness and darkness are not solely of the metal world, though they do exist in generous portions in that territory. London-based artist A.A. Williams has brushed elbows with more metallic-oriented artists, touring with Cult of Luna and Russian Circles, playing Roadburn, and recording with cinematic juggernauts MONO. But she is morbidity of a different type.

Williams definitely delves into thorny territory, but her vibe and sound is more diverse and delicate, evidence of which is on her third record “Solstice,” her first for Reigning Phoenix. These 11 songs and nearly an hour of material is vulnerable, bleeding, defiant, and yes, heavy, but not just sonically. There’s a true weight to this material that feels thick and foreboding, but it also draws you into its center and keeps you there, acting as a means of strength you can draw on when your own torment comes calling again. If you can envision something like Emma Rith Rundle, Marissa Nadler, and Tori Amos painting walls pitch black, you have a good idea of what’s ahead.

“Poison” starts with piano dripping and then grungy guitars cutting, Williams’ singing swelling as she pleads, “Be my savior from myself.” The drama builds and sweeps, Williams calling, “With you, I am born again,” as guitars lather and scorch, the last notes melting away. “Wolves” has a guitar lull heating up, darkness swelling as the chorus rises, Williams singing, “No matter what you are, no matter what you believe,” a mantra that repeats later. The playing glazes and digs into wounds, bowing out to the shadows. “Little By Little” buzzes with a nighttime vibe, Williams admitting, “I want nothing more than to disconnect.” The playing then gusts open, the chorus sweeping back, Williams lamenting, “You’re the only reason I can’t feel anything,” as everything fades into mystery. “Hold It Together” has keys brushing, the vocals more hushed before blooming, pained and broken feelings coloring the edges, guitars bringing light that swims along with the pace. Leads layer as the vocals turn more vulnerable, letting a storm settle overheard that brings cooling relief. “Outlines” has steely guitars, strings that glaze, and dark melodies boiling, leaving hearts heaving for a meaningful touch. Williams’ singing pushes the momentum, the pace taking on water, going quiet as words pierce wounds, gradually blending with the horizon.

“I’ve Seen Enough” has the piano guiding through fog, the singing leading into a frosty gaze, pained feelings grasping for relief, guitars scraping over the hovering atmosphere. “I should have known no one would save me sinking down,” Williams sings as the tumult brings added pressure. “The Veil” opens with piano splashing, Williams’ singing fluttering as she levels, “Wasting away like the longest day, I can’t keep this flame alive on my own.” The playing is slow and drizzling, making you feel the full weight of the price. “Just a Shadow” is more direct, guitars bustling, the keys buzzing as the chorus punches through. The tempo shifts as things grow more spacious, sun bursting through with fuzzy guitars and a gentle disappearance. “It Won’t Rain Forever” pulses, keys trickling, the singing icing bruising, a sense of calm achieved as the strings slowly rise. The mood turns gloomy as synth pulses, sounds glimmer, and the final notes slip under the waves. “Breathe” opens with Williams pleading, “Give me peace, give me hope,” guitars turning on and brushing skin. “I must breathe and carry on,” she urges herself, strings gusting as the guitars expose thorns, entering into an electrically charged atmosphere that sinks in its teeth. Closer “The Gentle Harm” bubbles as hushed singing flexes, keys swirl, and a sense of defiance strikes. “I did not for a second on my misery dwell,” Williams jolts, guitars foaming and flowing over, piano swirling in tornadic winds, the final embers turning out for good.

“Solstice” is a dark, enveloping record that reflects A.A. Williams’ enrapturing spirit that can encircle and capture your mind. Her music is best absorbed during stormy nights when lights are low and the windows rattle, kind of reflecting the tumult inside you. She leaves nothing inside her heart, instead flooding your and her senses with raw feelings and understandings, hopefully making for a harder outer shell for your next brush with chaos.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.aawilliamsmusic.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://aawilliams.rpm.link/solsticeWB

For more on the label, go here: https://reigningphoenixmusic.com/

It’s been a pretty goddamn despicable, awful, torturous year out there, and there’s no real sugar coating it. We also aren’t terribly close to an end. Luckily, the heavy music world has provided a LOT of solace with new music from Panopticon, Neurosis (WHAT?!), Sunn 0))), Immolation, At the Gates, and Converge. Now we have more. From … Converge?

Correct. A second Converge record has hit the shelves in the form of “Hum of Hurt,” 10 more tracks and 34 minutes that follow up February’s thunderous “Love Is Not Enough.” Somewhat in the same vein of “Love,” this record is a barnstormer with fewer of the sludgier, lengthier pounders and more straight-up firebreathers. Not that the band—vocalist Jacob Bannon, guitarist Kurt Ballou, bassist/vocalist Nate Newton, and drummer Ben Koller—isn’t chock full of ideas, as there are plenty  here. It’s heavier on the smothering side, which makes for a fuck of a lot of songs that’ll hurt savagely live.

“Slip the Noose” opens feeling like some of the more violent cuts on “Love,” the drums ripping, howls mashing, the guitars glistening and mangling before zany leads drive home.  “Doom in Bloom” has guitars sliding and screams slashing, Bannon howling, “No one has the right to judge me!” Guitars twist and dust as the pace pounds, ravaging fully. “It Only Gets Worse” strikes, guitars racing as the pace crushes, steely fury exploding as the vocals slash. There’s a heavy metallic push that gallops, the pressure mounting as the title is shouted, Bannon’s and Newton’s voices combining into a maelstrom. “Detonator” eases in, the vocals scalding, guitars snaking around corners, the tempered pace taking its time shaking the foundation. Bannon’s speak singing stings as the band hits harder, delving into chunky thrash. “I Won’t Let You Go” has guitars poking before lighting up, and then the storm arrives, clashing and blistering, Bannon calling, “I want to be the better me that you deserve.” The tempo charges harder, intensifying and blazing, burning everything to a crisp.

“It’s Not Up to Us” has the bass flexing and spacey guitar work, and then everything goes off. Howls torch as a tornadic gust explodes, the low end chugging, the energy snarling and wrecking. “Dream Debris” is the longest track, running 6:01 and slipping into trancey drumming, a Western vibe coloring skies, the noise spreading dangerously toward your psyche. Bannon’s cries then rip as the energy pummels, Newton’s raspy screams join the fray, and the battle flattens ribcages, diving into the rubble. “It Used to Matter” is a strange instrumental that feels like it comes from the traces of a dream, guitars smearing through fog, clouds gathering and numbing before melting into the horizon. The title track opens with the bass and drums uniting, metallic teeth chewing rock, Bannon yelling over the din as the leads spurt. Newton screams as the playing fires up again, the guitars destroy, and the bass tramples until everything fades into closer “Nothing Is Over” that rises on sound hums before everything tears apart. The madness turns airy for a stretch, feedback swelling and pulling back into the madness. Howls batter as the intensity thickens, a brief cosmic respite brings the stars into our atmosphere, and a last gasp delivers a violent finish.

Most bands are hard pressed to put out one strong record a year much less two, but most bands aren’t Converge. “Hum of Hurt” is a barnburner, not quite to the level of “Love Is Not Enough” but still pretty goddamn powerful. We’ve been spoiled by this band to a ridiculous level, with 2026 being their most giving time of delivering the earth-shaking goods.

For more on the band, go here: https://convergecult.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.epitaph.com/products/hum-of-hurt-lp-night-terror

Or here: https://deathwishinc.com/collections/converge

For more on the label, go here: https://www.epitaph.com/

And here: https://deathwishinc.com/

Misery is commonplace in our world and has been as long as humans have been alive, and hearing that compacted into a serving of doom-encrusted death metal can be a weird salve for your wounds. Buried beneath the decibels and terror can be a strange but timely companion that can show you that you aren’t alone, and the fury can be managed.

Danish crushers Dead Void embody the destruction you feel in your innards, and “Cranial Devastation,” their second full-length, not only is named perfectly but also buries you under its gravity. Over five tracks and a tick under 35 minutes, the band—A. (drums, bass, vocals), K. (guitars, bass, vocals)—waylays with a stockpile of chaos and mental horrors, delivering just enough punishment to keep you off balance but also twist your psyche into a pretzel.

“Regurgitation of Ancient Manifestations” simmer in doom buzz, the playing bashing away as the growls lurch, the guitars turning ablaze and illuminating the darkness. Death growls bury as the playing trudges, anguish and torture served in equal portions, the leads exploding before a mangling end. “Isolation’s Hold” ravages, throaty howls destroying, the intensity scarring permanently. “There’s no escape, accept this fate,” bubbles from hell, guitars roasting and blistering, the pace turning back to muddy terror. Howls sicken as the drums rumble, some final madness torching, screams rippling down your spinal column.

“Phantosmial Stench of Decay” dawns with growls gurgling, a doomy pall stretching over everything, the force grabbing you by the throat and squeezing. Quaking blasts loosen ribs as the guitars scorch, and the crippling doom waves take you under. The title track is the longest song, running 9:49 and pummeling with a glacial pace. The vocals scowl as the tempo destroys, burly hell and a mammoth attack combining, guttural filth smeared down throats. The playing slowly twists necks, aggressive shouts melting, a brief respite giving relief before delirious blazing returns, melting into the dark. Closer “Jeg kan ikke flygte fra mig selv” is a cover of a track from post-punk band the Sound from their 1980 debut “Jeopardy” (originally titled “I Can’t Escape Myself”). This version is monstrous and beefy, growls crumbling as a calculated pace damages flesh. The playing is lumbering and ugly, jabbing as guitars bubble, the drums topple mountains, and the screams feel like glass shards stuck in your palm.

Dead Void deliver doomy chaos that scars you emotionally as it is taking you apart limb from limb on “Cranial Devastation.” This is a massive experience that feels as heavy from the mental strain as it does from the pummeling you take after digesting these five tracks. This smolders and sends seismic energy that tears through the earth and brings down endless piles of rubble on top of you from which you’ll struggle to escape.

For more on the band, go here: https://deadvoid.bandcamp.com/music

To buy the album, go here: https://www.darkdescentrecords.com/shop/

Or here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/dead-void-cranial-devastation-lp/

For more on the label, go here: https://darkdescentrecords.bandcamp.com/

And here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/

Being that I’m allergic to the fuckers, a single wasp flying in my vicinity is not my favorite thing of all time. I wish them the best in the future endeavors and all, but I would like them nowhere near me. If I encountered a swarm of wasps, I likely would just have a panic attack and fall prone, and I can’t imagine that sound. Or maybe I can.

Diabolic Oath is a lot to handle on any level, and on their new EP “Unholy Barbaric Hymns,” they come across like enough wasps to blacken the sky. The unholy trio of bassist/vocalist Ominous Void, drummer/vocalist Chthonic Conqueror, and guitarist/vocalist The Temple blisters with four tracks and 24 minutes the spread charnel black metal death in a merciless manner. It’s the ideal setting for anyone who’s ever wanted to be piledriven into a thick, uncompromising board of nails.

“Emblazoned Upon Ebony Winds” blows in and obscures, dizzying as howls snarl, sooty ferocity caking your lungs. The pace twists and bludgeons, growing rubbery and strange, nasty wails decimating, heated fury and bizarre melodies fully warping. “Radiant Mars, Reveal the Spear of War” opens with war march drumming, darkness swirling, growls mangling as the echoes thicken. Dramatic torture ripples as guitars slide into humidity, the stomping feeling like it’s squashing your guts. The pace blazes as a confounding aura dawns, blurring into oblivion. “Within the Jaws of Lecherous Fire” crunches as growls smear, the playing scorching as spiral madness makes the room spin violently. Guitars warp and melt brains, laying waste as fires burn and crackle, choking you out with ash. Closer “Vomiting Flames in Rapturous Conflagration” opens with drums encircling, the playing grinding as the tempo mauls slowly, the growls engorging and choking on blood. The playing drills as guitars stretch and stagger, everything thickening into a black goo, darkening as the vocals hollow eyes.

“Unholy Barbaric Hymns” is a title that perfectly encapsulates this vicious new EP from Diabolic Oath that continues their litany of profane creations. Their brand of black metal feels like being locked in a void, your mind bombarded with inhuman sounds that eat away at your bruised psyche. This is a beast with which to contend, and there is no way to take on this music without sustaining a few wounds yourself.

For more on the band, go here: https://diabolicoath.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://sentientruin.com/releases/diabolic-oath-unholy-barbaric-hymns

For more on the label, go here: https://sentientruin.com/