There were real questions at points in the past as to how death metal would sound decades after its birth and if older musicians still would be able to pull of such savagery. We now know the answer is a definitive positive for both, and that the musicians who comprise this sub-genre are made up of stronger material than most.

Monstrosity is one of those bands that carried the banner from the early days right up to now on their latest record “Screams From Beneath the Surface,” their seventh and first in eight years. The band—vocalist Ed Webb, guitarist Matt Barnes, bassist Mark Van Erp, drummer Lee Harrison—is channeled, heavy, and destructive on these 10 tracks, sounding as thunderous as ever. Their debut album may have come out in 1992, but they show no wear and tear here, roaring like a death metal beast that has a belly full of fire.

“Banished to the Skies” gets the record off to a tempered start, though it’s still quite heavy. Guitars launch as the vocals boil, a classic metal-style assault launching in full. Strong soloing blazes as Webb’s growls feel raw and meaty, the playing echoing and dripping away. “The Colossal Rage” is a wrecking machine out of the gates, growls mauling as the leads surround you. The tempo pounds away as the guitars speed dangerously, the flames scorching flesh as Webb howls, “Colossal rage will end your life!” “The Atrophied” chugs, the vocals mashing and then morphing into screams. Leads sprawl as fists batter your gut, soloing twists brain wiring and bleeds with force, the playing carving away at your bones. “Spiral” has guitars attacking and screams lashing, the pace pulling back a bit but remaining devastating, the leads melting. “Now you have to die,” Webb declares, the guitars going off, speeding into the fog. “Fortunes Engraved in Blood” thrashes and mangles, the growls choke, and the leads jolt and warp. Dueling melodies storm harder, the growls claw at throats, and the channeled pace makes blood race through your veins.

“Vapors” is an onslaught, guitars chewing as growls curdle, the drums leaving everything in the dust. The simple chorus rips hard, infernal heat blasting with fury, the final moments piledriving through the earth’s crust. “The Thorns” heats up and lands stiff body blows, the growls spitting as if spraying poisoned words. The aura gets atmospheric as the soloing ratchets up the intensity, the growls wrestling you to the dirt. “Blood Works” opens with the drums mashing, speedy riffs blinding, the path going a little progressive. Speed ruptures as the thrashier charges challenge your muscles, stomping harder and leaving no skull unsquashed. “The Dark Aura” punches in, and then the pace gets more deliberate, bathing in flames as doomier colors dash across the sky. Howls stretch as dust coats lungs, Webb howling about the “demise of the universe” as the final moments bubble into time. Closer “Veil of Disillusion” engulfs as the growls rumble, the guitars turning nuclear as the surroundings get muggier. Leads swim as the howls retch, humidity continuing to skyrocket, the drums mounting one more assault and driving in the final nail.

Monstrosity survived a lot in their almost half a century as a band, and the fact that “Screams From Beneath the Surface” is this solid is a testament to them. Death metal has branched off in so many directions that playing it straight seems ill advised. But Monstrosity prove that isn’t true. This is as real as anything, and this record stands as evidence that sometimes the veterans actually know what’s best.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.monstrosity.us/

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/

I enjoy horror and scary movies a lot and always have, but they don’t usually leave me existentially moved. They do their job and make you sit on the edge of your seat for 90 minutes, but rarely am I ever spooked past the credits. But something like Jesse having to watch as Todd murders Angela in season 6 of “Breaking Bad?” That sticks you with me because there’s a human toll, and it could happen in real life. Ay any time.

Taking on Bosse-de-Nage’s music is much like the latter example, as it’s music that sticks with you and sits with you and slowly sinks into your brain. It doesn’t let go once the music ends. You live these records. Their latest is “Hidden Fires Burn Hottest,” their sixth and first in eight years, and like the ones the precede it, it is transformative psychologically, giving the impact of seeing axtual cataclysm that is real and tangible. The band—vocalist Bryan Manning, guitarist Michael Smith-Brenden, bassist Drew Bonel, drummer Harry Cantwell—continues to blend black metal, post-metal, noise, and other elements into these songs that have a way of gnawing into reality.

“Where to Now?” starts with guitars trampling and chugging, Manning’s unmistakable howl peeling back your psychic wall, the playing tangling brain fibers. Jazzy keys splash as whispers haunt, then everything comes unglued, chewing on muscle before fading. “Mementos” opens with light drumming, Manning’s speaking feeling plaintive but starkly emotional, dusty guitars tracing before the fuel ignites. Howls snap as the playing speeds up, daring through cloud coverage, moans and chortles paying the toll through the heart, the drumming igniting and driving into the ground. “In the Name of the Moth” floats on strums before the strikes enter, speaking warbling, and then the pace turning animalistic and feral. Melodies gush as the pace tears open limbs, the guitars warping and trembling, the wails attacking as if acting as an exorcism, zapping into a spiral vortex. “With a Shrug” is an interlude that turns down the heat just a bit, strings rising and quivering, an ominous tone driving a fear response. “No Such Place” opens in a translucent gaze, speed entering the fray, Manning’s voice picking you apart, glorious leads hypnotizing and leading into a pocket of warmth. Then the playing wrecks shop, wails plastering, effusive riffs making cortisol charge, the energy tidal waving inside of you, feeling catchy and electric as it fades.

“Triangular Dream” is a second interlude with guitars frying, vocals appearing to loop frontward and backward, static spitting and gnawing on your psyche. “Underwater” has more of a post-punk feel when it launches, the vocals choking while the playing cuts, speaking feeling like transported from a dream. Guitars glow and then combust, the vocals hit a fever pitch, in that it feels like you’re hallucinating this, plastering emotion raging to a finish. “Frenzy” brawls right out of the gate, a fast, rabid attack coming for you, the force sprawling into a fog, emerging on the other side of a soundscape. Veins explode as the vocals twist wills, penetrating your senses before finally recoiling. “Immortality Project” starts spaciously, the bass plodding, spacey strains and mind-numbing speaking making it feel like your consciousness is losing. Synth whirs as the playing works into cooler pockets, its purple hues blending with the night sky. “Leviathan” is the closer, trudging as the vocals wrench, guitars boiling to a manic ferocity, the playing gnawing and chipping away at your brain. The drums destroy as tornadic colors spew mental shrapnel, spiraling and melting as the strings glaze. Manning’s damaged wails rush back to the surface, then finally the power melts into a void, taking you with it.

Bosse-de-Nage have been sorely missed during their departure, and their return on “Hidden Fires Burn Hottest” shows a beast in relatively the same form at its center with all types of new tentacles jutting from its body. The band’s music always was heavy and metallic at its core, but the mental weight and scarred humanity that flowed generously always was more the point. This is a band that can batter you sonically, but if you’re not paying close attention, they can untangle and reform you spiritually in a way you won’t suspect until the deed has been done.

For more on the band, go here: https://bosse-de-nage.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://nowflensing.com/collections/bosse-de-nage

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

Having ADHD can be a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse though. As someone who has it, it often is very hard to stay on one track, as distractions are easy to come by and can take you from one task to another with neither getting done in linear fashion. It makes taking on challenging music a little easier to handle though, and there is our blessing.

“Overspace & Supertime” (totally read that as “suppertime” the first time) is the second full-length from UK progressive death metal crushers Cryptic Shift, and its five tracks and 79 goddamn minutes are exhilarating, wrenching, sometimes frustrating, always mind-blowingly creative. The band—vocalist/guitarist Alexander Bradley, guitarist Joss Farrington, bassist John Riley, drummer Ryan Sheperson—also comprises ¾ of death/doom power Slimelord, and here they push beyond that into the cosmos. They take the themes from debut “Visitations From Enceladus” and jettison their characters and themes into different dimensions. The songs, which are involved and long (two of the tracks put together are nearly an hour combined) never let you stay in one place long. When you feel like you’re on your way to one star pattern, they suddenly jerk somewhere else entirely. That’s why having ADHD makes listening to a record such as this palatable, but I also cat get overwhelmed by it. Even though I really like what I experience each time through with this mammoth.

“Cryogenically Frozen” opens and is the shortest track, clocking in at a puny 9:24. It takes some time to get going as the scene is set, the word of a craft in trouble crackling over airwaves, and then the track opens in full. Guitars ice through the swelling chaos before going off, the leads rocketing through the clouds. Hammers drop again before the playing moves into breezy, jazzy streams, then the fist clenches again, dissolving and flowing into timelessness. “Stratocumulus Evergaol” is the longest track, running a massive 29:25 spreading over six movements. It is a LOT to digest. Not a complaint, really. Just a note. Leads heat us as the growls crawl through mysterious mists, battling and trudging, pulling back and letting the temps drop. Guitars reemerge and the roars claw, the leads zapping and injecting strong riffs, storming with aplomb, delving into muddier waters that make tracking hard. Classic metallic riffs explode, which zips back through the ’80s, jolting and bouncing, making adrenaline flow, blasting into oblivion, space hypnosis flooding your mind. Colorful melodies rush through your mind, the leads extend their exploration, and cold makes your bones ache, a sheen blinding and disintegrating.

“Hyperspace Topography” dawns with psyche guitars erupting, the howls crackling, spacey voice effects turning. There’s a long section of playing that progresses through time, guitars striking as windy leads dazzle before the pace comes unglued, battering and bending around corners. Wails scorch as the guitars go acidic, everything slowly fading. “Hexagonal Eyes (Diverity Trepaphymphasyzm)” has melodies quivering, howls carving into bone as a mathy attack pulls you under, crushing as hypnosis overwhelms, the leads igniting before going dark. Sounds sizzle and bubble before the storm returns, guitars bucking into mystery. The closing title tracks runs 20:22 and snakes over four parts, starting clean before launching into a fury, cosmic sounds whirring and transitioning into a mind-bending section that spreads and intoxicates. The guitars maul and dissolve, speaking haunting over a cosmic gasp chilling and emphasizes the lack of light. Smoke rises as the guitars simmer, the fires stoked with power, everything ramping up as the wails choke, a dreamy glaze thickens, and everything slowly dissolves.

“Overspace & Supertime” is a massive, involved adventure that is jam packed with riffs, progressive chaos, and ambitious ideas that sprawl in front of you with little to no control. That’s mostly a good thing as this record is more than generous dealing comic-impacted death and thrash that batter your brain thoroughly. Cryptic Shift probably would benefit from tighter editing and a little less dazzle, as it would make a record such as this a little more impactful. That said, it’s an impressive piece that easily can topple with such a grandiose and explosive vision.

For more on the band, go here: https://cryptic-shift.bandcamp.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/

A comfort zone is an easy thing in which to slip. For example, I write the same basic review structure every time out and have done so for the 15 years this site has existed. I am bowing, and you just can’t see me. This year, I tried to do some different things, and while I have a format, I am trying to be less rigid to keep me (and you) engaged.

Temple of Void, who are infinitely more talented and relevant than I, have dragged their formidable sound through the death/doom paradigm ever since forming and on their powerful first four records. But on “The Crawl,” they changed things up a bit. The music remains heavy and gloomy, remaining mostly true to their sound, but they added different flourishes and moods that create depth and inject more character to what they do. The band—vocalist/guitarist Mike Erdody (previously he strictly was behind the mic), guitarist Alex Awn, bassist Justin Malek (who replaces Brent Satterly), drummer Jason Pearce—not only went through a lineup shift but also decided to eschew boundaries previously established and retooled their sound. It’s a success, and hopefully this path remains.

“Poison Icon” tears open, fiery and tempered, growls boiling as your extremities tingle from the force. Growls engorge as clean guitar lines slip into the picture, complementing the heaviness, burning as the final embers let smoke gradually rise. “Godless Cynic” opens with drums pushing, the bass trudging, and growls bathing in acid. Soot smears as the guitars spark flames, the chorus gurgles, and the playing bristles, increasing the intensity before doom clouds overtake the light and choke everything to the ground. The title track has riffs spiraling and lurching, growls dragging you through pits of glass, the battering picking up noticeably and raising the stakes. Then the pace gets slower and sludgier, mashing as clean guitars drip, the steam thickening and drifting into the clouds. To this point, the record is pretty solid stuff, but its true magic lies in the second half. 

“A Dead Issue” whirs with synth sheen, driving as the keys glow and organs rise, giving a vintage psyche finish to their thorns. Icy future emerges as the riffs soar, the growls snarl with the temperature decrease, then the guitars get catchier before everything boils away. My notes say, “More of this, please.” So… “Thy Mountain Eternal” starts clean before your visibility gets compromised, howls digging deep as the leads bask in sun-stained glory, bruising and battering as emotions fly. The track breaks open, letting flow colorful, shimmering guitars and strong synth beams that break through darkened skies. “Soulburn” is a killer, guitars burning brightly, growls gurgling as melodies gaze and synth drives ice daggers. The playing feels a bit more traditional metal, which they pull off well, the infectious strains entering your bloodstream, the soloing bending  as the band thrashes as hard as ever, Closer “The Twin Stranger” opens with guitars gliding, the pace drubbing and crushing, the vibe feeling grislier and bloodier. The leads unite and drive with triumphant effect, the growls boil in your guts, and psyche-heavy melodies rush, everything ending in a storm woosh that drenches.

“The Crawl” is a nice step forward for Temple of Void, giving them added nuances and an expanded sound that hopefully continues to blossom on future releases. Not that we were tiring of their death/doom approach, as it served them quite well, but this album, especially its second half, really shows the potential that lies here. I’m excited to hear what’s next, but this record and its advancements certainly will suffice for now.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/pages/temple-of-void-the-crawl

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

Loss is a son of a bitch, especially if we’re talking people or animals in your life that mean the world to you. The aftermath is a journey, and it isn’t exactly linear, nor do the stages of grief come in any order. It is one of the most profound experiences you’ll ever endure, and there is no clear finish line because there isn’t one.

“Memorial” is the seventh record from Russian force Olhava, and it centers on the emotional tumult, realizing it isn’t something from which you just recover, and it’s an entity that just kind of soaks into your blood. Its two members Andrey Novozhilov (vocalist/multi-instrumentalist) and Tim Yusupov (drums) spill all of their anguish, sorrow, and fury into these eight tracks and 78 minutes. Many of Olhava’s records are emotional marathons, and this is no exception, eating into your nervous system and brain.

“Ageless River X” opens, the continuation of a concept that first emerged on 2020’s “Ladoga,” and this is a tributary into ambience and immersion. Sounds bathe as the pressure mounts, pouring into “After I’m Gone” that runs a healthy 14:16 and absolutely erupts. Howls cascade as the playing gushes post-metal fury, the storms gazing and enveloping. The emotional pace continues its push and pull before calmer waters rinse wounds, the playing intoxicating and moving into an extended dream state that hangs over a significant portion of the middle section. The playing tears open again, shrieks melting through thick ice, lashing through the fog generated from the heat rising, working into a thunderous force that pummels to the end. “When the Ashes Grow Cold” is a monster at 20:21, and it starts with synth pulses, calls hissing, and the drums driving, a massive force enveloping everything. A spacey energy pushes through, melodies dancing among the stars, sounds blinking before the fires breathe new life, the playing compounding and jarring. The back end is awash in heart-wrenching emotion, engulfing with reddish hues, pounding and then easing back into the cosmos. 

“Ageless River XI” swims through interference and an industrial haze, buzzing and freezing, working into the title track that starts in a dream state, screams scalding as melodies add to the mirage. Drums pick up, and the senses flood with emotion, shrieks raining down as the intensity strikes and then pulls back, letting the bass plod and the fires blister. The powers gush as the playing glazes, rattling any sense of calm, shooting into the clouds. “Ageless River XII” arrives with birds chirping, atmosphere wafting as echoes knock, and an ageless, timeless energy harnesses new dreams. “The River Wakes” jolts hard as the pace immediately launches, a storming blast taking over the wheel, angling into a burst that scalds. Shrieks rain as the playing washes over, paving the way for a gargantuan force that rocks the earth, hurtling back into an ice age and toward closer “Ageless River XIII.” This final piece crackles with life, synth whirring calmly, your mind floating through time as the final embers flicker and fade into time. 

“Memorial” hits deeply not just from a musical standpoint but also lyrically, as reflection on what once was, is, and is still left to be collide and impact us on every level. This record is a total immersion into spirit and self, a dark journey that takes a you down many pathways, not all of them easy to confront. It leaves you battle tested and more in tune with yourself so the next pathway can reveal itself to you.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://avantgardemusic.bandcamp.com/album/memorial

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

So much black metal operates on a raw, primal level that allowing different colors and, god forbid, showmanship into the mix basically was blasphemous not all that long ago. Things changed, thank fuck, and black metal has bled into a variety of corners and caves, making the possibilities limitless.

Texas-based black metal machine Necrofier has plenty of traditional black metal tenets in their sound, and it can feel choked with coal. But there is an ambition and cinematic quality to their formula which never has been more pronounced as on their third album “Transcend Into Oblivion.” Over 12 tracks and 58 minutes, the band—vocalist/guitarist Bakka, guitarist Semir Özerkan, bassist Mat Aleman, drummer Dobber Beverly—centers on the Luciferian version of Dark Night of the Soul, a transformative experience that completely changes you mentally and spiritually. The album is broken up into three immersive, aggressive parts, and we present our look broken up into thirds. It’s even good for us to fuck up our patterns now and again.

“Fires of the Apocalypse, Light My Path I” opens the first triptych, with guitars firing, howls belting, and the pace drubbing, the heat and pressure taking hold. Fiery wails and layers of filth overwhelm as the leads scald and add to the temperatures rising, eerie calls mixing with exiting violins. “Fires of the Apocalypse, Light My Path II” jars, cleaner calls floating, then roars belting, dramatic dashes working into creakier passages. The playing wrenches and spirals and shrieks peel flesh, the viciousness increasing along with synth wafting and the drums mauling. “Fires of the Apocalypse, Light My Path III” blasts in, torment abound, mystifying moments leading you into thick fog. The direction changes on a dime, Bakka wailing, “I tempt my fate!” as the pace spatters, and raw cries carve into the night. “Behold, the Birth of Ascension” is the first interlude, music box notes spiraling, piano dripping, strange noises caught up in the aura, wild cries of anguish digging into your side.

“Servants of Darkness, Guide My Way I” starts the second portion, a savage riff combining with tornadic fury, bellowed calls bruising ribs, the playing digging in harder and racing. Vocals gurgle as a dark hypnosis takes over, Bakka howling, “Tear them down, let them burn, we rise.” The strangulation continues as everything dissolves into strangeness. “Servants of Darkness, Guide My Way II” wrecks right away, blinding playing igniting, keys dashing over vile guitar work. Fires rage and then calm for a spell, dusty acoustics land as angelic calls hypnotize, the gentler guitars reemerging on “Servants of Darkness, Guide My Way III” before the power ignites. Wails wrench as doom-infested black metal flows, blasts working into cascading guitars that flow freely. Leads bleed as the drums gut, hazy coverage thickens, and Bakka calls, “We are unholy fire, cannot be smothered.” “Mystical Creation of Enlightenment” follows as a second interlude, bringing cleaner playing, a dusty voice swirling out a dream, eeriness blending into warmth.

The final third starts with “Horns of Destruction, Lift My Blade I” that hits hard, drums swinging, the vocals destroying, the leads beginning to melt through steel. “To burn this time and rise, sacrifice dark, born from the flames,” Bakka cries, the soloing sprawling into madness, the back end dragging you to the finish. “Horns of Destruction, Lift My Blade II” has the drums crushing, the singing hovering overhead before wails tear flesh, a tornadic pace taking you into dramatic gusts that feel cinematic. The pace sweeps and then subsides, guitars rain down in sheets, and the final gashes leave a blur. “Horns of Destruction, Lift My Blade III” swirls and blisters, guitars generating thick mist, the drums engulfing in flames before film score-style dramatics flare. The playing races harder, growls decimating, wrecking any sense of security, Bakka declaring, “Souls on fire, reign high, at crossed roads we die.” Closer “Toward the Necrofier” is the final instrumental piece delivering weird synth, guitars tracing, and strange speaking boiling over. Darkness continues its descent, percussive elements rattling, inhuman cries of agony testing the limits of your already compromised psyche.

Necrofier deliver a meaty, full serving of black metal on “Transcend Into Oblivion,” a record that might go down easier digested in thirds. Not that a full listen isn’t ideal or even the preferred method, but it might be more approachable taking this part by part the first few times. The full experience takes you into the self-reflection and personal path one must take for perseverance, something that can hunt and illuminate at the same time.

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

I talk a lot, maybe too much, about wanting to float through space when I listen to specific records because I wish I could do that without dying. Or at all. Records that get me there always tend to land harder with me, though ones that also pierce the serenity are a different breed. You’re going to see some ungodly monsters along the way.

Italian black/doom/death beast Dwellnought easily can transport you beyond here, as their debut full-length “Monolith of Ephemerality” proves from front to back. But as hinted, it’s not a breezy meeting with the cosmos. In fact, the stars might be in your head. The band—vocalist/guitarist/synth player S, guitarist R, bassist/synth player T, drummer C—uses these five beastly tracks to twist you in blackness, wrench your mind, and hurtle you into the unknown, neck jerking you just when you feel comfortable, confronting you with chaos.

“Slumbering Through the Dream of Impermanence” bathes in noise and interference, feeling like its gravitational pull is dragging you into the stars and into 17:07-long “The Final Desire Is Unbeing.” It enters unassumingly until it rips apart, black, smeared guitars jamming fingers in your mouth, a thunderous gush with mauling howls, your limbs left tingling. The pressure returns and squeezes your brain, doomy fire spraying into a sheet of ambiance, trudging heavily through layers of soot. Guitars hang and then drill dangerously, the force then blazing into oblivion.

“Crystalized Flesh Identities Condensed Into Wombs of Matter” erupts with death gore, violent mangling working into the darkness, the demons burrowing their way into your chest. The pace guts anew, the pace jerking, growls gurgling, slipping into a hypnotic gaze. The melodies curve into a scratchy sample, continuing to haunt before subsiding. “III Whispers” is sludgy and battering, howls ripping as the tempo gets grislier, guitars grinding harder and tearing muscle. Muck bubbles as the guitars spatter, destroying brainwaves and causing confusion, slowly combusting and spitting ferocity. Closer “Beyond the Mind” dawns in spacey strangeness, a buzzing transmission hovering as static floods your mind. The walls crumble, bizarre feelings numbing your nerves, noise marring and flooding, a static onslaught devouring the light.

“Monolith of Ephemerality” is a hammering, bizarre jolt of chaos, something that arrives out of the void, attacks, then leaves you sprawling. Dwellnought’s first full foray feels like a beast forming its own existence, a spastic power that refuses to stay on the same path and drags you through the mental wilderness. It’s a debut that makes you wonder what this band and heavy music in general can accomplish, and hopefully this entity shows us the way to get there.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://caligarirecords.storenvy.com/

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

A civilization’s history being buried in the ruins as the new overlords try to warp the past. Can you imagine such a thing?! We really need a sarcasm font. Anyway, it’s nothing new, and it’s happening right now, and if there isn’t a serious move to stop such a thing, only people in the underground of societies truly will know what made us into who we are.

Dornenbahn’s debut EP tells a similar story, a past lying in ruins with only the people with strains of the real story left to fight and spread what actually happened. This is a project helmed by artist J. Füchslin, and the band’s name means “Path of Thorns.” On this five-track first offering, we hear of these tales dressed in raw black metal and rousing dungeon synth, a perfect melding of sounds to unearth history long since buried. And while the tales might reside in fantasy, the songs easily could be a metaphor to the age in which we’re living now, where our would-be overlords want to push us into the ground and silence us forever to prevent the truth from surviving. By the way, only a label link below as this project has no social media profile of which to speak.

“Hand of War” starts with a key blur, anguished cries, and growls that retch, the drums rattling. Keys glow as the power buckles, everything dropping away. “Morgen Fällt Der Schatten Nieder” attacks with shrieks that blend into pounding howls, the drums hammering into oblivion. Keys tingle as the pace jolts, vicious calls scarring the psyche, grim tidings sickening, and the synth melting into a different plane of existence. “All Flesh Rots the Same” has animals calling out, dark electricity bustling, and then fiery, demonic shrieks raining down like needles. The playing lashes harder as the synth clouds, bells warping through multiple dimensions, cold melodies stirring, fading into a whipping wind. “Auf Der Dornenbahn” has horns blaring as horses ride, wails stinging, choral dreams carrying you into a dreamland as fading guitars twist. Closer “Stillborn in Chaos” has keys slicing in as the vocals smear, strangling as the spirit moves into whirring synth. Darker melodies swell as the pace lashes back, the keys hypnotizing, the finals melodic twists blending in a reality warp.

Dornenbahn’s debut is enchanting and violent, a trip into a different reality, digging up new and tormenting tales of those who trampled underfoot. The fantasy-driven black metal is great Sunday afternoon listening, out in overgrown fields as you imagine battles overhead. Definitely looking for more of this project as it expands its music environment and what is possible inside.

To buy the album or for more on the label, go here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/

We are being ground to a pulp, surrounded by a world veering so far past humanity and respect for nature, that we are losing grasp of who we are. Industry owns us, and we’re pretty much at a point of no return unless some radical shit happens really fucking fast. No matter what we do, capitalistic endeavors envelop us.

On “State Dependent Memory,” London-based black metal power Unmother are steeped in industry and the urban concrete slabs, recognizing that while we might not all live in those types of areas, the businesses that operate there do. It’s all around us, these elements weighing on nerves and making mere survival a struggle. The band—vocalist V, guitarist Azoso, guitarist/bassist Declwa (drums were handled by Krzysztof Klingbein)—employs a nice share of experimentation and mesmerizing electronic pulse in their pounding black metal, adding an extra dash of color and intrigue to their music.

“My Armor” starts in eeriness, a voice talking, and then the pace melts, growls punishing as the guitars catch fire. There’s a progressive sense to what’s going on that’ll pay more dividends later, and the vocals turn into unhinged bursts, melodies veering into cosmic terrain, blasts snapping at flesh. Raw wails carve as melodies spill, everything coming to a desperate end. “Bear Hug” feels like one at first, tornadic playing going off, guitars spiraling manically, the vocals retching, mental combustion tearing down buildings, the playing dripping like syrup down a wall. The vocals punish at the temperatures spike, jarring loose the screws and flooding with riffs. “Modern Dystopia” has a similar vibe as Oranssi Pazuzu’s psychosis, and it opens in spacey whir, the vocals warbling into an acidic gurgle, a strange aura spilling into a dream state. Shrieks belt as the guitars grow colder, the drums rumbling as a mesmerizing fog envelopes, the guitars firing out of the other end, swimming through punches and stray rock flying past stars.

“Attiki Victoria” is a cover of a track by Greek synth/punk band ΟΔΟΣ 55, and they add more electricity but also maintain vocal melodies while also bristling. The playing gushes with color, the guitars giving off heat, synth piercing and sending chills down your spine, bleeding into the night sky. The title track opens in the throes of damage, speaking echoing before sinister howls cut into the skin, speed accompanying blistering drums. Guitars swim through a humid atmosphere, smearing psychedelic flames and delving deeper into sonic wonder, even if that has an edge of ugliness. Clean guitars penetrate the barriers, giving off drips of sound, and then everything explodes to life, howls rippling like lightning bolts, riffs spinning out dangerously. Instrumental closer “Magda” basks in swelling organs and guitar murmurs, reverberating and numbing frayed nerves. Speaking folds into time as the bass clouds darken, guitars enrapture, and the final sounds slip into desolation.

“State Dependent Memory” is a record that fills with excitement of new angles and sounds and colors but also reminds we are captured in a time that has become less human and even more about money over everything. Unmother’s direction toward increased experimentation and layering black metal with a plethora of sounds sometimes foreign to this style make for a record that stands apart from what will be thousands and thousands of other albums released in the sub-genre this year. This is both enthralling and sobering, a reminder of the trap we’re in but also a pathway to escape to our true roots.

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

To buy the album and for more on the label, go here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/

Converge owe nothing to anyone at this point, and they really have nothing further to prove. They’re one of the most important and influential heavy bands of the past three decades, and they remain one of the most intimidating yet volcanically loose and welcoming live acts going. So, when they release new music, you pause what you’re doing and listen.

“Love Is Not Enough” is the band’s 10^th record as a band (11^th if you count the amazing “Bloodmoon: I” collaborative project) and their first as a quartet since 2017’s “The Dusk in Us.” So, it’s been nearly a decade since we got new music from the core of vocalist Jacob Bannon, guitarist Kurt Ballou, bassist/vocalist Nate Newton, and drummer Ben Koller, and no one is getting any younger. Uh, this 10-track beast might prove that false and that they’re aging in reverse. Or just not aging. This album runs about 31 minutes, and the first handful of songs sound like a hungry band out for blood, refusing mercy, needing to prove themselves. The back end finds them exploring more, but with ferocity, showing just how far they’ve advanced.

The title track opens and wastes no time punching with grime and power, howls searing as a simple, but effective chorus lands hard. The vibe is raw and fiery, Bannon’s yelps sounding cleaner than before, the playing spiraling and brawling to the end. “Bad Faith” is another ripper, crunching and sludging, Bannon’s voice ratcheting up a level, lumbering as gang shouts dress the chorus. The playing then surges, wrecking and leaving destruction behind. “Distract and Divide” is one of the faster and most urgent songs in the band’s catalog, the title spat repeatedly, ferocious jackhammering overwhelming, guitars flexing. The bass coils and strikes, and everything blasts to a furious end. “To Feel Something” is gutting, howls wrecking shop, the playing engulfed in flames that grow rapidly and shockingly. The drumming turns everything to dust, guitars charring as the band thrashes with atomic force. “Beyond Repair” is an instrumental that basks in strange sounds, eerie guitars, and scrapes and echoes, industrial force grinding and marching into eternal gloom. The first half of this record blasts by in 11 minutes. 

“Amon Amok” opens the second half, which is twice the length and a different vibe in spots, this one hitting a slower, yet just as explosive pace, the heat hanging overhead as the roars crush. The playing is heavy and pounding, stretching its heat as the vocals batter. “Force Meets Presence” bludgeons and mashes, delivering metallic riffs that crawl up your spine, racing energetically. Newton’s unmistakable wail can be heard backing Bannon, the band nearing death metal territory in its assault. “Gilded Cage” has guitars plodding and the bass chugging, Bannon’s singing registering higher, the chorus hammering in the nails. Cloud coverage increases as humidity smears ash, roars hammer, and the last gusts level everything. “Make Me Forget You” opens with drums mauling, and the riffs feeling catchier, more of a rock feel injected into the formula. “I never said what I meant to,” Bannon laments, something he repeats, his talk-yelling overpowering, the anguish flooding. The intensity turns into a psychedelic burn, simmering into closer “We Were Never the Same” that Newton’s bass leads into the fray. Bannon’s screams belt as the playing trudges, a simple chorus blazing and feeling like something to scream back live. Guitars race as the band gets its final diatribe ready to spew, pressing on every nerve ending before the track comes to a blazing end.

“Love Is Not Enough” packs some early Converge manic energy and speed with their more experimental bends on an album that flies by like a lightning bolt. There is a menace, a passion, and an emotional tumult woven into these songs that feel like a legendary band making an urgent new statement in tumultuous times. This is heavier and more savage than most might expect, even based on their track record, and this is a raging fire feeding off a full fuel tank that never seems to lose a drop. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://converge.ffm.to/loveisnotenough

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