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 “iin 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/

If metal has a master of reinvention, it’s Kristian Eivind Espedal, better known as Gaahl. When we talk reinvention, it’s not to make more money or to grab onto a trend. It’s because as an artist, he evolves, from the barbaric black metal of his earlier years to the more avant-garde creativity more recently, making him one of the more honest figures in metal.

“…By the Word…” is his latest with Trelldom, the former black metal project that has been warped into a different form. Following their 2024 mind-eraser “…By the Shadows…” (our no. 1 record of that year), the band—rounded out by guitarist/electronics force Stian Kårstad, bassist Eirik Øien, drummer Kenneth Kapstad, multi-instrumentalist (saxophones, clarinet, organ & electronics) Kjetil Møster—takes a similar path as last record but with an entirely different adventure awaiting, one that can stab and pound one second, crawl into the vast portions of your psyche the next. It’s an experience you need to take over and over again before everything really settles into your bones,

“When This Was Young” opens whirring, guitars hanging in the balance, gushing as Espedal’s vocals warble, sax fuming as thick exhaust rises. The pace then pummels, streams, Espedal, almost in trance, calling, “Dripping into the open hand,” as a strange aura clashes and fades. “I Speak Forgotten Voices” is a title that feels like a band statement, riffs lighting and sax blaring, Espedal murmuring, “I rest my head,” before noting, “The dreams that dream,” repeatedly. The playing rumbles as the sax spreads, heat gasping, rhythmic blistering shimmering before fading. “This Moment the Life of a Memory” has the drums attacking, the pace bubbling, sax wafting, speak singing pattering on flesh, swirling into madness. The temp is noticeably cool, but that gradually changes as melodies swim through strange waters, haunting sounds echo, and the end burns out of existence.

“By the Word”  churns and swarms, the singing warbles, and everything crumbles, guitars spitting nails as the sax glistens. The singing swells as your mind is encapsulated in ice, Espedal clawing, “Take me by the word.” “Folding the Mind” has the drums rounding and dusting, Espedal singing, “I rest my head within these dreams.” Riffs fire as the pace tears apart, the sax scorching as raucous playing dusts, pounding away into oblivion. “The Word – Choose to Vanish” is calm and dusky, crawling before the playing ruptures, the vocals hissing, melodies twisting and hurtling into dark. Howls sneer as a cacophony of racket rattles, spilling chaos as guitars spill, giving off steam as the drums crumble, and moodiness envelopes. Closer “In There Outside” has guitars scuffing, sax peeling metal from planets, the singing sneaking though a bristling attack. The pace tramples, burying layers of dreams, noise chafing, storming into the afterworld.

“…By the Word…” feels like a richer, fuller step from 2024’s “…By the Shadows…” in that the band sounds even more confident, and the picture is developing further. This is a spellbinding listen, one that feels muscular and thought provoking, crawling through your mind as the tentacles embrace you. This obviously exists on a physical plane, but this music takes you somewhere else, mostly in your mind, that lets doors previously locked open wide for your exploration.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.trelldom.no/

To buy the album, go here: https://spkr.store/collections/trelldom

For more on the label, go here: https://en.prophecy.de/

Going out on the open road and taking on a grueling road trip is a massive undertaking despite how simple it may seen to get behind the wheel and drive. Dealing with other drivers, experiencing monotony, and keeping your mind engaged are obstacles along the way, so having something to keep your mind stimulated is crucial.

I’ve always consider Elder road music, which might seem strange to some people, but we’re all different. Yes, there are plenty of other great settings to take on the band’s adventurous, spacious prog metal, but I’ve always found their records make time go soaring when I’m travelling. Their latest record is “Through Zero,” their seventh and follow-up to criminally underappreciated “Innate Passage,” and this one feels like the band—vocalist/guitarist Nick DiSalvo, guitarist/keyboard player Mike Risberg, bassist Jack Donovan, drummer Georg Edert—is breathing new life, exploding with expanded energy. Not that they were lacking any of that ever, but it feels like they have amped up their power and passion on these six tracks and 54 minutes. 

“Sigil to Ruin” opens with guitars soaring, airy passes soothing, and the bass plodding, DiSalvo opening the lyrical portion of your program singing, “Awake again before the sun.” That’s how this song feels. The tempo gets punchier, guitars buzzing, the tension growing thicker, the darkness lowering as keys pulse. A nighttime vibe cools as the playing bathes in stars, calls circle, and guitars sketch a new path. “Capture/Release” quiets nerves, keys circling like clouds, the pace boiling while guitars are smearing. The singing takes off, guitars engulfing, the pace charring as melodies deepen, a prog-fueled storm battering the land below. The catchiness gets stickier, synth wails zapping through the universe, the riffs sending off beams of fire. The title track is hazy, guitars chugging, calm spreading before guitars begin to snarl. Glistening keys rush across space, the singing layering emotion, the melodies bursting and flooding, sounds washing out as guitars snake through time. The pace trudges and scorches, triumphant playing exploding with light.

Strains bleed into “Strata,” a fluttering, airy release with the singing easing nerves, the keys then blazing and the guitars tackling. Guitars burn and ignite, the band taking on an active tempo, the bass chugging, and atmospheric flourishes adding brighter colors. Synth blows open as the riffs cut, the leads buzz with energy, sweeping into an alien whir that blends into instrumental “Sight Unseen.” Keys release some pressure, guitars icing wounds through a dreamy haze, synth pulsing like pinpoints of light in a storm cloud, the pace breathing before actively burning. The band returns with volcanic force, the heaviest sequence of this record shaking the earth, the doomy ferocity slowly subsiding, glimmering into the cosmos. Closer “Blighted Age” melts, guitars trickling, the singing blooming as the melodies trace patterns in the sky. Sounds swarm and murmur, the psychedelic warmth spreading feeling like a salve, everything gradually rising toward the sun.

“Through Zero” is a rush of an experience, a record that gets inside your head and has you making up your own visuals for a journey inside your mind. Elder always created music that fills your heart and soul and reminds you that heavy vibes can serve more purposes than brutality and can pay off true cinematic dreams. This is another fantastic record from a band that’s never steered us wrong, and these songs can fuel your own physical adventures or give you a boost of creativity that your brain has been craving.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.bluesfuneral.com/products/us-orders-elder-through-zero-vinyl-editions

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

I’m going to say something potentially stupid, so here goes: Darkthrone doesn’t get enough credit. Yes, incomprehensibly silly thing to say as they’re one of the most important parts of black metal’s second wave, and Fenriz basically is everyone’s heavy metal uncle. But what they’ve done over their past few albums deserves way more love than they get.

They’re back with the expertly titled “Pre-Historic Metal,” their 22^nd album and follow-up to 2024’s like-minded “It Beckons Us All…….” that continues their homage to late ’70s and early ’80s metal, and not the kind that was playing hockey arenas. Fenriz and longtime cohort Nocturno Culto long left black metal behind and have done their damnest to conjure the sounds that made them fall in love with this music in the first place. From the first riff to the last, these two eschew trends, fashions, and pretty much anything current and just pound of what makes them happy. And fuck if it won’t make you happy too.

“They Found One of My Graves” unleashes a killer, smoking riff, howls creaking as the leads add color, unloading a thrashy attack before the pace resets. Guitars storm, bringing a rare summer vibe from the ice, smearing as cosmic wooshes discolor, burning away. The title track fires up, vocals echoing, guitars ravaging as Fenriz’s howls bellow, causing your bones to rattle. Sooty riffs attack as feral grunts echo, the guitars firing up and glowing, the playing stomping and quaking. “Siberian Thaw” is slow driving and slurry, the wails hulking as the leads smoke, the title repeated over and over again. Eeriness settles in as the swell erupts, savagely taking down bodies, “Siberian thaw,” practically chanted ad nauseam. “Deeply Rooted” has another strong riff, vocals that scrape the ground, the crunching leaving a litany of bruises. “The silent treatment of the forest,” Fenriz howls, the playing smudging as fires spread, the tempo galloping hard as more bellowing singing fills your chest with the bravado of heavy metal.

“The Dry Wells of Hell” is spacious, the vocals striking as the singing swarms, the pace feeling guttural and raw. The pace punches as the guitars give off light, letting muscular riffs buckle the floor, trudging into hell. “So I Marched to the Sunken Empire” is an instrumental piece that builds interest from the first moment, soundscapes developing before your eyes, fantastical melodies creating streaks in the sky. The weird vibes give off a dreamlike haze, drawing you deeper into your own unconsciousness. “Eat Eat Eat Your Pride” takes charge immediately, howls beckoning as the riffs bend corners, punishing and blistering with newfound speed. True black metal-style guitars generate fog as the drums rattle and crush, mangling and delivering a dusty finish. Closer “Eon 4” (the first “Eon” track dates back to their debut “Soulside Journey”) simmers in muck, hazy leads wafting as calls reverberate, traditional riffing sinking in its teeth. Singing wails as the drumming hammers, voices obscured in the rubble, the pace then trucking all over again, guitars circling and menacing before dashing off into the frost.

It’s fucking Darkthrone. Yeah, I know there are people who still cling a little too hard to their ’90s work, but these two have been on a goddamn roll the last several years, paying home to metal’s roots and their commitment to the lifeblood. “Pre-Historic Metal” is an absolute blast of label-free metal that goes for blood and delivers chaos from their relentless hearts.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://usa-peaceville.myshopify.com/collections/darkthrone

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