It’s as weird feeling having grown up largely a pacifist who doesn’t want to see people suffer and having a lot of yourself changed by a particularly horrific decade. It’s a lot to make peace with, knowing some of the thoughts that go through your head, some of the events you think about that could make everyone a lot safer. It feels unnatural but justified.

Burial Clouds’ new record “Burn Holy” isn’t about that very thing, but a quote in their bio made me think of my own journey. The band says every track is a meditation on what it means to live with a gentle, livid heart in an inhuman age, and that really hit center point for me. The music reflects that, ground-shaking doom that dumps truckloads of ash but also atmospheric passages that bask in beauty, paying off the horror and the heartbreak, navigating violent waves that nearly shake us the death. The band—vocalist Marina Lavelle, guitarists Matt Mitchell and Bryce Ramsey, bassist Flynn Hargreaves, drummer Tim Iserman—devastates over eight tracks and 40 minutes that dig deep into your tissue and leave a proper bruising on your body and soul.

“Burning the Olive Tree” bathes in hazy riffs as screams buckle, burly fury laying waste, moody singing following up with another perspective. The pace fires up as guitars speed, the rhythm section bashes with fervor, and then things go quiet and dreamy before floating away into the fog. “Windflower” opens with Lavelle’s singing moving like a ghost, static sludge adding ugliness, twisting bodies as roars level, squeezing blood vessels. Pianos cool as the singing glides and wild screams pierce the serenity, mangling flesh as everything comes to a throttling end. “Ashen Altar” attacks, screams battering, the heat surging as everything comes unglued, utterly ravaging. Cavernous hell consumes, the band battling hard as shrieks return and wipe glass shards over skin. “Negations” is a spacey interlude, synth and strings enveloping, sounds vibrating and settling in space dust.

“Be Not Afraid” has singing glowing, howls following through dreary passages, the playing then combusting, taking things apart with its teeth. The tempo becomes slower and moodier, darkness blending as the screams strike, soot spread generously on faces. Dual vocals rupture as the chaos thaws, hushed singing mixing into shadowy corners.  “Screaming, Drowning Pacified” rips immediately, shrill screams chewing on wounds, the playing trudging and spattering as blood boils over. The tone is fury, a doomy sprawl thickening, the brutality flattening until a urgent, violent end. “Forget Me Not” is a total change of pace, Lavelle’s singing soothing, a gentler, quivering journey opening, more folkish strains lightly raining, guitars draining. Darkness basks as Lavelle self-harmonizes, emotional wounds displayed for all to see. Closer “Eyes Without Light” starts shivering as cold pianos drain and soft vocals tease before Lavelle’s shrieks tear off your eyelids. The pace electrifies as howls wrench into a storm, violent jerks whiplashing, gushing as Lavelle’s cries smear guts on pavement. A muscular terror bristles as keys numb, letting your breathing return to normal, static and echoes rattling peace.

“Burn Holy” is more a psychological experience than a collection of songs, and taking on Burial Clouds’ strength is something to behold. The first journey should be in isolation, with no distractions, so the terror and beauty can melt and drizzle like a mind-altering syrup. This album is a fuller experience for this band, one that transforms them as a lineup and a creative entity, a journey that should cement them as one of doom’s most fearless.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://burialclouds.bandcamp.com/album/burn-holy

Extreme sounds do not require to be of the metal realm, though that’s surely where you will find the bulk of it. Music that’s challenging, can push your mental and physical boundaries, and that draws a little bit of blood does go well with distortion and aggressiveness, but when it weaves into something unexpected, it hits even harder.

Lane Shi Otayonii is no stranger to the metal world, having added her unique vocals to Elizabeth Colour Wheel and Førn, and outside of that, she is an incredibly accomplished musician, having done a residency at Roadburn and contributed to the opera “SANCTA.” Here, Otayonii debuts her new project Otay:Onii with “Love Is in the Shit,” a peculiar, playful, disarming, alarming, comical, punishing display that cannot fit into any genre at all. Definitely not metal, though her glass-shattering shrieks sound from there. The rest contains almost every style I can think of, none of them mainstream in any sense, and it feels like Otayonii is exploring numerous characters and life arcs within singles songs. Plus, her voice is diverse and properly menacing, something that lures you through the labyrinths contained within this vast creation.

“Have You Ever” buzzes, Otayonii’s singing gushing as the music is bouncy but dark, even weirdly jazzy. The keys pulse and swim into void, sending lasers across lightless nothing, the final moments feeling like a blur. “Love From Survivors” basks in a noise storm that’s almost visible, shrieks melting psyches as the singing floats beneath, the pathway heading into anguish. Beats echo as the singing moves through your brain, feeling like you’re half-consciously staring at the night sky, icing away your wounds. “World Class Citizen” is a warbling interlude, alien singing slicing through black holes, beeps piercing, bubbling. “No Talent” has pianos dripping and playful singing, the words drizzling, fuzzy weirdness building in veins. The playing seeps from cracks through time, zapping, feeling both bright and fucked, everything strangely alluring.

“The Plaice” has pianos glazing, taking on a Fiona Apple vibe, Otayonii calling, “Do not cast on me no more fears,” as screams disrupt the tension. The pace murmurs alongside pumping synth clouds, the heat scalding, liquifying and sinking into layers, the chorus repeating as airy melodies enrapture. “Underdog Bark” is a cacophony of chaos, nightmares spreading over worlds, voices swirling in horrors. Surreal energy rises as sounds lather, making the juices inside your body heat up. Closer “Tears Won’t Tell” runs 10:40, keys and beats uniting, darkness pumping like a diseased tributary. Wails penetrate the frost, the pace picking up as the vocals meander, storms hovering overhead, wrenching at nerves. Warbles strike as hand drumming encircles, cries swarming, a weird sawing noise slowly cutting through bones, the final strains fading into sleep.

“Love Is in the Shit” is a harrowing experience, an incredibly challenging first creation under the “Otay:Onii” banner for this artist who always finds way to surprise and sometimes terrify. These songs go from floods of positive light to the absolute depths of insanity, wrestling with the full gamut of human emotion. It’s the center of a horror show from which it’s impossible to turn away, and each listen provides a fresh perspective of scars that have been traced over millions of times.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://www.athousandarmsstore.com/collections/otay-onii

Or here: https://pelagic-records.com/home/

For more on the label, go here: https://pelagic-records.com/

Black metal has always been steeped in over-the-top drama, no matter how grim and  frostbitten some of the progenitors claimed to be. Even at its rawest, least polished, the music served to get one’s blood flowing, the adrenaline spiking, and the mind to wander elsewhere, even if that was simply a dank, pissy basement.

British force A Forest of Stars feels like a band that could have been relevant in the plague-filled Dark Ages, the pestilence in the air, no remedy anywhere in site, rats crawling over fallen bodies. Instead, they exist alongside of us, and their new record “Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface” is another extravagant, theatrical experience spread over six tracks and 74 minutes that are immersive, terrifying, often humorous, and mentally twisted. The band—Mister Curse (vocals), Katheryne “Queen of the Ghosts” (vocals, violin, flute), TS Kettleburner (guitars, vocals),  William Wight-Barrow (guitars, lap steel), Titus Lungbutter (bass), John “The Resurrectionist” Bishop (drums), The Gentleman (keyboards, percussion, samples)—isn’t cemented to black metal, as they offer folk, classical horrors, prog, and even modern rock strains to their bubbling cauldron that is overflowing but flavorful.

“Ascension of the Clowns” is moody, strings sweeping, surging as Mister Curse’s scalding words strike, urgency bathing in blood. The playing stirs harder as the vocals grow more manic, the intensity relenting, a lone flute haunting, the violin piercing. There’s a melody that sounds astoundingly like one at the tail end of SubRosa’s “Despair Is a Siren” that I kept thinking of that song. It’s assuredly a coincidence. “Street Level Vertigo” has a dizzying tone, Mister Curse sounding like a prisoner in a tower, his rants raining down on the village. Crazed playing heats and even sounds more like indie rock in spots, and then the vocals ripple with anger, Katheryne’s singing injecting further drama, her voice mixing with the fiery diatribes, the lead soaring into unhinged winds. “Mechanically Separated Logic” drips, psychotic liquids that thicken, and keys glaze as Mister Curse’s voice taunts, guitars pushing as sounds clash. The bass flexes as spirits rise, the vocals wrapping cords around their own neck, strings quivering and swooning, the melodies mesmerizing. The tempo relaunches, the vocals striking again, violins committing the final stab.

“Roots Circle Usurpers” starts folkishly, pedal steel weeping, the playing taking on a Midwestern vibe. The ferocity arrives as deranged vocals attack wildly, spellbinding playing makes the room spin, the guitars fire harder, and Katheryne’s singing soars through the streets as the energy digs deeper. “Ashes in the eye of the storm,” Mister Curse wails, storming harder and weirder, the final strains ringing out. “Sway, Draped in Vague” is the longest track, running 17:01, a jazzy feel cooling the air, Katheryne’s singing sending chills down your spine. A huge burst pushes you back, the emotion welling as Mister Curse emotes, hypnotic melodies locking their arms around you, settling into a breezier groove. The explosion blinds, Mister Curse howling as the rest of the band surrounds him, drums pummeling, fevers rising, Katheryne calling out, the cure never arriving. Closer “Not Drinking Water” has strings creating a strange cloud, the keys falling as Mister Curse speak sings, guitars bubbling as the tension builds. An elegant rupture spits colors, the chorus gushes before a brief pause arrives, and a blacker beast claws out from the other side. Mister Curse unleashes some Gollum-esque tirades, buzzing guitars gathering as the heat increases, keys and strings melding, a hearty stretch fading into centuries ago.

“Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface,” much like A Forest of Stars, is like nothing else you’re going to hear this year, a slab of gothic, black metal drama that never relents. This is more fitting on an old, elegant, mossy stage rather than a metal show, and everything on this album demands and captures your attention. It’s funny, disturbing, upsetting, and impossible to ignore, a creation that sounds and looks different every time.

For more on the band, go here: https://a-forest-of-stars.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://en.prophecy.de/en/Artists/A-Forest-Of-Stars/A-Forest-Of-Stars-Stack-Overflow-In-Corpse-Pile-Interface.html

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

As noted so many times here that even I’m bored of it, humans struggles are at an apex, at least as far as modern times are concerned, and dragging yourself through every day can be a hassle. Or, just quit social media. That has to help a little, right? But you can’t avoid everything, and having an extra shot to get motivation to fight is crucial.

That brings us to “No Place of Warmth,” the third record from Texas-based death metal crushers Frozen Soul, whose music is both scathing and infectious. On this record, the band—vocalist Chad Green, guitarists Michael Munday and Chris Bonner, bassist Samantha Mobley, drummer Matt Dennar—still centers the visual aspects on unforgiving frozen tundra, but the goals of these 11 tracks is to light a fire under those who need a push to battle back. That can be against whatever ails, and for sure the band takes aim at oppressive power structures trying to devour democracy. They also have some notable guests on this record, who we’ll discuss later, who might lure listeners from other camps.   

The title track opens with keys shimmering, leads opening, and the growls smearing, trudging with a calculated pace. Leads simmer and grow doomy, My Chemical Romance’s Gerard Way howling, sounding more like he did on that band’s earlier work, muddy power and doom bells ending. “Invoke War” features Rob Flynn from Machine Head, and roars and pummeling fury floods, deal leads burn, and the savagery mounts, words spat through gritted teeth. The playing takes on a hardcore feel, nasty and mean, the title wailed over and over again. “Absolute Zero” is a brief blast that lashes against ICE and authoritarianism, and you don’t have to waste much time burning those institutions when you have this 53-second destroyer that blazes with righteous anger. “Dreadnought” has an engine firing before thick bass work sprawls, driving through the mud, Green howling, “You can’t stop the dreadnought!” Atmospheric soloing emerges before mauling death reclaims the lead, battering to a finish. “Chaos Will Reign” fires with hardcore jolts, smothering with monstrous growls, thrashing into a thick fury. Fiery playing continues to char, Green belts the title over the chorus (always good for an easy live callback), and everything comes to a gurgling end.

“Eyes of Despair” has a fast start, the leads electrifying, the tempo punishing with little mercy. A sinewy breakdown mashes skulls as the bruising makes your face swell in horrifying fashion. “Ethereal Dreams” is eerie, drums encircling, the song breaking open as mashing drums and furious leads unite. The heat amplifies dangerously as the vocals hiss, guitars fire, and the tempo guts with violent intent. “Skinned by the Wind” opens with a quote from the film, “Lost in the Barrens” that pays off their frostbitten tendencies, and then it’s all-out war, brawling and dicing into “DEATHWEAVER” that also hangs in a doomy pall. The playing is heavy and sticky, guitars glistening before destroying, grisly growls sinking teeth into throats. The back half is scathing and brutal, down-tuned horrors suffocating, fading into dust. “Frost Forged” emerges from the void, feeling like water is draining from your ear canals, and then deep growls and ferocity pave the way for slow-driving death. Leads swarm as the power cuts through muscle, a beastly final push draining color from faces. Closer “Killin Time (Until it’s Time to Kill)” is a fun one, punchy playing leveling, Green wailing, “Born to chill but bred to kill.” The pace smokes as leads glimmer, the bass chugs hard, and the fiery chorus entangles, giving off one more blast for good, deadly measure.

“No Place of Warmth” is another solid entry in the Frozen Soul catalog, and while the numerous collaborators might make some worry about this band shedding identity, that never comes close to happening. The added faces help enhance what’s already a solid album by giving their own flourishes, but had they not appeared on this record, it wouldn’t suffer one bit. This is fun, furious, channeled death metal that wears brutality on its sleeve but isn’t afraid to function as an outlet for letting off a little steam. And fuck ICE. 

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://centurymedia.store/pages/frozen-soul-no-place-of-warmth

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

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

Thrash has a certain feel that, when it’s done right, hits you in the mid-section like no other form of metal. It’s the style that truly introduced brutality in large quantities to heavy metal, soon to be obscured by death and black metal and their savagery. While thrash may not be an endangered species, the style trails death and black in remaining a true force.

Scottish destroyers Tyrannus carry thrash metal like they were there in the early 1980s, forming the sound alongside the greats. Their ferocious second record “Mournhold” is a motherfucker, tearing limb from limb as they blaze through seven tracks and 40 minutes, absolutely crushing and leaving nothing but bones behind. They add some different elements to the pot this time, bringing gloomier tidings and some death notes that the band—recording lineup is vocalist/guitarist Callum John Cant, guitarist/vocalist Richard Codling, bassist/guitarist/vocalist Alistair Harley, keyboard/synth player Scott McLean, drummer/backing vocalist Alasdair Dunn—nails with electricity and bloody heart, making this a record that ravages and demands your return.

“Violent Inheritance” begins bludgeoning, fiery and violent pressure releasing fumes, the howls crushing. The pace continues storming before things go cold, the fog thickening, thunderous ferocity compounding as Cant wails, “Wake up!” “Orbus non sufficit” is murky before taking off, the melodies tidal waving as momentum builds, Cant lashing, “Where is your conscience?” The storm refuses to relent, clean notes bleeding through carnage, chants bellowing, the tempo shaking your bones. “Seize the Stars” is fiercely intense, galloping and attacking, the howls brawling as the leads liquify and scorch flesh. The playing pulls back a bit before reigniting the assault, Cant wailing the title, the devastation rocketing into the cosmos.

“Flesh Eternal” has the bass driving, post-punk sounds blackening, the cloudy singing sending chills down your spine. The playing mashes as the guitar glazes, fumes gather, and everything gradually fades into the sky. “Reignfall” delivers some meaty thrash, akin to heyday Metallica, and Cant’s words raid, the speed consuming, the simple chorus arresting. Things fire up as the soloing explodes, a sinister darkness following, absolutely laying waste. If your blood isn’t pumping, go to the hospital. The title track boils over, forceful carnage trampling, the growls creaking, start/stop chugs mauling, the leads jolting through veins. Neon soloing tingles as the pace hammers again, spilling into a strange, intoxicating heat. Closer “Back to Grey” fires up and batters, scuffing up the glorious leads, howls punching as things turn even thrashier. An exciting jolt mangles as things turn colder, moodier, chills rippling flesh. Things drive anew, the tempo savaging, fluid power electrifying your brain, the power bleeding away.

Tyrannus come at you with classic, destructive thrash on “Mournhold,” a record that should excite listeners, even the ones all the way back from the subgenre’s formative years. They blend plenty of other influences, and even take you into unexplored darker territories, making their punch even heftier. This band continues to build their foundation on this second record, and they’re on fire here, coming into their true form and leaving trails of ash behind them along the way.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://truecultrecords.bandcamp.com/album/mournhold

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

It would be nice if we had something positive to talk about for a change, and while it may be easy for some to look away from the horrors, but for many of us, it just isn’t a thing we can do. Clinging to something, anything, that provides a bit of hope is like thirsting for water after days and days of wandering the desert.

I’m not saying listening to “Legatum Mortuorum” is going to solve that which ails you, because it is a dense, macabre, interesting blend of doom and black metal that is well aware of which world it inhabits. But Desiccation—vocalist Soell Bratt, vocalist/guitarist/synth player James Bratt, drummer/bassist/synth player Patrick Hills—manages to find pinholes of light in a decaying society on these six tracks and 44 minutes. It’s an engaging, battering record that doesn’t follow well-beaten paths of sound and instead works to make each element that much more engaging and devastating, still reminding you to look for solace in a dead world.

“All Light Is Gone” rushes out, atmospheric black metal rising, howls lashing as the chorus lulls, deeper singing bathing in murk. The pace then blisters, beastly howls flattening, ramping up the temperature as the shrieks scorch, and a melodic rush seizes, the anguish disappearing into a cosmic void. “Cursed in Cold Silence” is foggy with growls snarling, screams belting, and swirling doom mashing you into gargantuan heaviness. Horror house keys immerse and hypnotize, the shadows growing more immersive, sweeping hard as the melodies freeze. Sooty playing flows into thick smoke, crumbling into sound. The title track gushes, savagery landing blows, keys pulsing as monstrous wails flatten landscapes. Guitars melt as the fumes subside, singing falls to the earth like thick raindrops, and ghouls haunt deep into the night.

“The Alchemy of Grief” delivers heated riffs, battering howls, and utter harshness, fantastical keys letting ice daggers fall. The brutality meets up with spacey strangeness, the singing rousing as guitars soar, washing over and mesmerizing ripe minds. “Ashes Unto the Abyss” folds in, howls battering, stomps leveling as grainy melodies trickle, guitars gusting into a gothy froth. Pained cries bruise as leads numb the senses, the drama encircling before dissolving in mist. Closer “Lamentations Beyond the Veil” runs 11:05, basking in dark energies, drubbing with doom as the wails strangle, a thick pall blocking out the sun. Howls scrape as the playing feels both beastly and adventurous, the calm stardust spreading through universes, washing into a long oblivion that stretches into the eons, only briefly resurfacing for alien zaps to leave some final scarring.

“Legatum Mortuorum” is an exciting, and immersive take on black metal-influenced doom (or is it doom-encrusted black metal?), and all of the strange twists and turns to which Desiccation commit. It feels like they’re branching beyond this world, further than their minds have before, and the results are physically and emotionally intense. This is not music to approach lightly; it must be considered with your full heart and mind because you will go on an excursion that will return you battered for the better.

For more on the band, go here: https://desiccation666.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://carbonizedrecords.merchtable.com/?

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

Band upheavals hardly are a new thing, and even the greatest bands in history have dealt with revolving doors. Maiden have navigated alterations that have either worked tremendously or very much haven’t. Same with Priest. Slayer never were the same again. It’s the nature of doing business, and it’s nothing new for Draconian.

The Swedish gothic doom band returns with “In Somnolent Ruin,” their eight and first in six years, and with it comes a shifted lineup. The biggest one is the return of vocalist Lisa Johansson, who left after 2011’s “A Rose for the Apocalypse”  and now replaces departed Heike Langhans, who more than held her own in the spot. The reunion feels seamless when she complements or tussles with Anders Jacobsson, both of them at the top of their game. The rest of the roster is rounded out by long-time members Johan Ericson (guitar, vocals, keys), new guitarist Niklas Nord, bassist Daniel Arvidsson (who shifted from guitar), and drummer Daniel Johansson (moving from session player to full member). It makes for a very complete, engaging form of Draconian, who are glimmering gold here.

“I Welcome Thy Arrow” opens in murk, Johansson calling, “You’re the hunter, I’m the haunted,” the pace tearing open as the melodies soak with melancholy, growls engorging as the gothic tones increase. Guitars glimmer, the soloing sweeping with power, Johansson singing, “I overcome the unwinnable war,” as everything fades. “The Monochrome Blade” has doom lurching and growls digging, the punchy tempo making water rockier, the singing adding beauty to the bruising. Blood surges as guitars burn, growls rippling through muscle, strings gliding as the melodies gush, the vocals later intertwining as the last notes freeze.  “Anima” starts cold, guest vocalist Daniel Änghede (Astroqueen, ex-Crippled Black Phoenix) urging, “Break me, defend me from the storm.” The atmosphere is moody, both voices paying the price, a shadowy chill increasing as the leads begin to scorch. Harsh wails sting as the energy pulses, the chorus bathing in darkness and blurring vision. “The Face of God” is intense and striking, Johansson warning of the subject, “It was weeping, the spirit of man.” Doomy fires lash as the intensity builds, spiking with lathering guitars and smeary emotions with Johansson calling, “Life is for the living, so don’t waste it on me,” as echoes fully consume.

“I Gave You Wings” has Johansson bellowing, a sinister spirit rising, the leads swelling before cooling, pianos dripping in the dark. Morbid speaking teases nerves as the bottom drops, the growls wrench, and the leads ache, Johansson singing, “For if you approach me, it is because I have approached you.” “Asteria Beneath the Tranquil Sea” is a shorter track, quivering beneath synth beams, the tension building as heavy mist obscures vision, Johansson guiding, “Breathe in, breathe out, and breathe no more.” “Cold Heavens” has a quaking pace and vocals that tear through nervous systems, howls erupting as the playing trudges, the pace eventually pulling back a bit. The fires explode again, growls crushing as Johansson’s singing absolutely explodes in the atmosphere, lashing and demanding your attention. “Misanthrope River” is eerie and chilling, the verses feeling adventurous and rich, the chorus dropping the hammers and disrupting serenity. “Where shall I go if one of us dies?” Johansson wonders, growls lashing anew, emotional leads digging deep into your chest, keys drizzling toward oblivion. Closer “Lethe” opens with breathy singing, hypnosis encircling, solemnity meeting with power jolts. Growls claw as the guitars melt, strings glaze over congealing wounds, mesmerizing passages illuminate with wonder, Jacobsson howling, “Oh restless soul, drown in me, drink, forget, repeat.”

Draconian’s doom can be overly dramatic and emotional for some who only seek the thorns, but “In Somnolent Ruin” is another masterful turn for their band that holds their style and approach in an iron grip. Johansson returning not only branches this album with their rich past, but she also adds even more regality to their morose, captivating sound. This is a new chapter for the band that keeps intact their long-forged spirit and rushes headlong into triumph and tragedy, life and death, and everything else in between.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://napalmrecords.us/collections/draconian

Or here (Europe): https://napalmrecords.com/english/draconian?product_list_dir=desc&product_list_order=release_date

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

I, too, love to put music on and just sink into the atmosphere and emotion, taking a well-deserved trip somewhere else of just getting an artistic reinvigoration. Taking on German power Junon, helmed by a single artist of the same moniker, is something altogether different. This is a mind fuck, a journey into the most bizarre sections of your psyche from which you stay away on purpose.

“The Golden Citadel of the Astral Sphere” is the project’s debut album, a four-track, 42-minute excursion that uses black metal as a base and then warps it into all kinds of strange configurations that could make you feel uneasy and anxious. All in good ways, actually. Junon’s vocals go from guttural shrieks to calls that reach up to the heavens with designs to poison them, and the end result of taking on this creation is a mental challenge that reshapes what you think of these dark arts. I’m not even sure these words do this thing justice.

“Propheten der blauen Flamme” attacks, but it’s noticeably lopsided melodically, in a really enticing way, warped fury burning through eerie strangeness, haunting as static spits. The playing bursts into agonized wails and pathways that’ll scramble your thinking, whispers swirling, moans falling like blood drops, weird warbles making skin crawl. The heat engulfs as screams torment and tear, the drama exploding before burning out. “Unterm Glutmond” brings melodic tidal waves, the vocals ravaging, eventually turning into an acidic rant, the tempo storming. The singing turns into a bellow, the pace mesmerizing and chilling, ugliness rushing through the seams, the energy tingling before expiration.

“Inanitas Cedit Profundo (Die Leere weicht der Tiefe)” is a bizarre form crawling through cracks in the earth, deep chants enthralling as creaking voices prod nerves. Cryptic horrors continue to spread, the coldness rising and enveloping. Closer “Dolorosa” is a force, running 21:08 and quivering and confounding, setting a soundscape over the first several minutes. Finally the growls claw, the sound morphing in front of you, guitars tangling as the pace lurches. The blows then come harder, faster, a corrosive, hazy pall swallowing the energies, the riffs melting metallic soup over rock. Grisly savagery sinks in its teeth, and then hypnosis spreads, the drums erupting out of that, morbid tendencies having their way. Howls lash as mystical beams jolt, the playing exploding into volcanic terror, rushing as Junon’s operatic calls squeeze the cosmos, the intensity spiking, guitars scraping glass as the pressure decreases, fading into a buzzing void.

“The Golden Citadel of the Astral Fear” is a bizarre, disturbing debut, one that takes black metal and turns it into black magic, the music not leaving your cells. Junon’s approach to this style is deranged, unsettling, and exciting, something that feels conjured from another plane. This is an album that doesn’t fit neatly on a playlist or in a subgenre shelf and really lives to embody and then consume this music’s morbid spirit.  

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://metalodyssey.8merch.us/

Or here (Europe): https://metalodyssey.8merch.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/

Metal and rebellion have run hand in hand for decades now, which is why it always makes me laugh when bands suck up to fascist ideas. Where the fuck did you lose the plot? Anyway this music was meant for the outcasts, the downtrodden, those ground in the gears of the power structure as a means to give inspiration to fight back.

Every ounce of “Gone With the Devil” sounds like a spirited battle against oppressive structures (be it political, societal, artistic), and Hellenic force Yoth Iria are holding aloft the torches for the march. On their third record and first for Metal Blade, the band—vocalist HE, guitarists Nikolas Perlepe and Naberius, bassist Jim Mutilator (formerly of Rotting Christ and Varathron), drummer Bill “Vongaar” Stavrianidis—immediately energizes with their punishing spirits and feel like they’re lathering up the masses to refuse any further bullshit. The music also gives a sense of personal power and ambition reminding that your heart is alive, as is your mind, and there is no reason to give up for anyone or anything.

“Dare to Rebel” starts with sweeping chants, and then growls lurch, the leads slowly catch fire, and then everything bursts, the vocals crushing. Singing bellows and bleeds defiance, the call of, “No fear, no shame!” feeling personal, the playing surging and then going spacious, ending in a blur. “Woven Spells of a Demon” has a fantastical essence at first, howls wrenching as the melodies swirl, the bustling pace trudging into the ground. The spirited aura turns mystical, dust kicked up into lungs, the call of, “We dare to dream,” striking. “The Blind Eye of Antichrist” starts with choral calls that rouse hearts, the leads bubble, and the whole vibe just feels huge. The guitars blaze as the song’s center reveals itself, the calls bellowing as the choruses return, alerting your animal spirit. “I, Totem” bruises, raspy howls lashing flesh, the playing accelerating, ripping into glorious power that rains down hard. The repeated call of, “Nature’s sacred magic,” works into your nervous system, weathered strains paying homage to nature, guitars circling before fading. “3am” is dark and jolting, the singing gushing, HE howling, “The doors are open, our demons are here, our freedom is near.” Melodic leads melt as the vocals claw back, savage fluidity captivates, and whispered calls conjure mystical spirits.

“Give ‘Em My Beautiful Hell” is vibrant and defiant, strings quivering as the melodies cascade, the howls gutting as the guitars flood and reach over dusty shelves. Glorious melodies halt as the drums rupture, soaring through fiery keys and a door slammed shut. “Once in a Blue Moon” basks in eerie sounds before igniting, tortured growls punishing, the guitars blazing with cosmic force. Both atmospheric and grisly, the howls scrape your psyche as infectious energy courses through your veins. “Blessed Be He Who Enters” has the drums coming to life and spitting cinders, warm, calculated melodies setting a foundation, a great chorus landing hard. The wails decimate as leads rush through and pull you under the surface, illuminating long, dark secrets before fading. “The End of the Known Civilization” starts ominously, howls creaking and then the playing mashing, the melodies sprawling with ferocity and intensity. Soloing sprawls as the mood grows decidedly sinister, striking hard as colors blaze, the drums tapping and delivering a burly end. “Harut, Government, Fallen” ends the record, blistering and stimulating, making adrenaline rush through your body, the singing driving as harsher cries salt wounds. Then things turn guttural as the leads smoke with power, and warbled cries spell an end to this attack.

“Gone With the Devil” is a record that should draw more attention to this band, as they have figured out a way to harness everything special about themselves and spill that all over these 10 tracks. This is a record that immediately grabbed my attention, and I have revisited it many times since the music arrived. This is a memorable album that fires the heart and spirit and reminds you of just how moving and motivating metal can be.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://metalblade.indiemerch.com/

Or here (Europe): https://shop.metalblade.de/

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

Had death metal not evolved over the years, it’s hard to imagine where the form might be right now. Granted, bands were contorting the form pretty much from the start, so it’s nice to see the evolution has continued to cross the earth and universe. One of the bands that helped move the horror are Lago, who return after eight years.

“Vigil” is the band’s third record and first since 2018’s “Sea of Duress,” and it continues to push them into the more progressive waters they’ve always embraced. The band—guitarist/vocalist Cole Jacobsen, bassist/vocalist Garrett Thomas, guitarist Gus Barr, drummer Brian Miller—decimates with technical prowess and stretchy connective tissue, punishing over seven tracks and 42 minutes. The band challenges on this record, slamming their hammers into the ground but also waylaying your psyche.

“Behold, Ruin” opens with guitars coiling and striking, the playing spreading psychological gore, and fluid leads flooding your senses. Growls batter heavily, guitars swelling and drubbing, the punishment twisting muscle. “Fodder” drills into your skull, vocals lurching, the vibrant pace making blood shoot through your veins, a growl/scream amalgamation loosening teeth. Leads squeeze before the soloing takes off, the pace shift smothers, and a beastly force takes you under. “Procession Into Slaughter” mauls, the growls welling, the guitars scorching flesh. The pace decimates, vicious power rushing to the surface like lava, the intensity tearing into bendy, dusty intensity.

“Initiation Rite” chugs, the growls gurgling, the leads heating up and melting rock. Snarling howls pull you into the darkness, the solo gusts with tornadic force, and a progressive feel takes over, sinking into a syrupy fury. “In a House of Ill Repute” lands with heavy humidity, tingling leads glistening, spilling over into spacious, flexible vibrations. Slick guitars turn into spiraling soloing, cascading with blood as wild howls strike. The pace storms again, a savage outburst destroying, leaving deep, thick scars. “Kingdom Without Pulse” trudges and crunches, the growls sneering, brawling into dust clouds. Dizzying madness makes the room spin, atmospheric surges turn darkly smothering, disappearing into ash. Closer “The Land Was a Desert” seers, tearing through flesh and bone, deep growls rumbling beneath the surface. Guitars race as clubbing force batters, the wails engorge and devour sanity, and the final moments spit shards of glass.

Lago’s brutality is as devastating and blinding as ever on “Vigil,” a dense and mesmerizing record that obliterates you from the beginning to the end. Their tools remain sharp, creating violent tension and death metal that strangles nerves. This is beefy but also brainy, an album that can be overwhelming but also crushing in all the right ways, leaving you exhausted mentally and physically.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://everlastingspew.com/search?controller=search&orderby=position&orderway=desc&search_query=LAGOVIGIL&submit_search=

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