Life has its way or carving away at you, leaving you a husk of your former self if you’re not careful. For some of us, misery always seems around the bend, haunting, waiting, lurking only too lustfully to peel back anything that makes existence worthwhile. How many times must one get up off the ground, dust off, and expect to proceed forward with hope?

Brazilian duo Litosth—multi-instrumentalist Maicon Ristow and bassist Wendel Siota—have abandoned silver linings and gone all in on skullduggery and misery with “Dreaming,” their fourth record. The title is misleading, as you will find exploring these eight tracks and 46 minutes is not going to whisk you away on a wondrous excursion, even when their music leans more melodic and pulsing. Instead, this is an unraveling, a mental breakdown after one too many gashes that leaves nothing but darkness and pain behind.

“Defy” gets off to an eerie start, guitars opening as the synth swirls, howls storming from the outer edges. Majestic fury releases its spirit, synth gliding along jagged edges, melodic grimness exiting. “Ruin” starts with keys dripping, and then guitars storming, viciousness crumbling your mental state. Icy leads take off, bells chime to usher in the end, and a beastly gush brings the monster back to life. “Eclipse” enters darkness before the playing rips, monstrous howls arresting, a path into wonder making the fury that much heavier. Keys rain as shrieks rip, a even-tempered pace cooling before keys plink like glass.  “Abyss” rises as organs swell, the pace ravages, and synth swirls in your mind. The drums stampede as dramatic strikes send electricity, and smothering blows end the misery,

“Monolith” starts as a cold, clean ghoul, driving through searing howls, storming with great energy that jabs. The playing is catchy and thorny, beastly and spacious, a massive finish pinning you to the earth. “Iconoclast” unfurls in battery, the soundwaves ripple, and the vocals ravage, smoking and choking out lungs. The force pounds away, spacey keys work through the stars, the leads spiral as the vocals emit heat. “Nadir” basks in a synth cloud before blood pours from the cloud, a vicious attack stabbing toward you, melodies sweeping as the growls sicken. The pressure scrapes flesh as dramatic gusts pummel, the howls carve at muscle, and the final strains inebriate. Closer “Gólgota” has leads lightning the way, growls snarling, and colors zapping, synth lathering and creeping toward a blistering force. The guitars tangle as the playing makes blood race through veins, the howls lashing as everything washes away.

“Dreaming” is a sinister yet adventurous record, a darker turn from Litosth than we’ve previously heard. The lack of hope and the callouses that experience builds make it impossible for light to get through in any way, and that’s what this album sounds like it’s conveying. This is music that won’t make you feel better when it’s done. If anything, it’ll leave your insides a little blacker.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.personal-records.com/product-category/our-releases/

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

As our personal and societal darkness thicken, one should not be surprised that bands and records will follow that and wallow in the misery. It’s not that our current environment never has happened before, but it’s the first time it’s happened to a lot of us. The downward slopes in our lives, as a result, feel more pronounced, and recovery comes much slower.

Death/doom hybrid Solystalgia emerge with a self-titled debut record that dig into loss, atrocities and the weight we carry from these things, and that power spreads over 37 economical minutes like a heavy gloom blanket. We said doom/death, and while your mind might wander to My Dying Bride or Paradise Lost, this band is doing something much different with similar elements. This is even darker stuff, heavier, tilting more toward the death aspect, which only makes sense considering we’re mining morose territory. The band—vocalist Paul Black, guitarist/bassist Wilco, drummer Austin Wheeler (Tanner Anderson joins on guest vocals)—never pulls back on their expressions, both musically and emotionally, and everything that you hear makes you pay a toll that could help alleviate the emotions inside of you that have left existential bruising.

“Procession”  is an orchestral, moody opening, a quick introduction to set the scene, moving into “Funeral”  that instantly pours doom smoke. Howls wrench as the sooty underbelly spreads, the playing slipping into a frozen gaze, the guitars spiraling and attacking. The pace trudges as the growls bury, and then everything explodes into dust, the energy moving into the clouds. “Wake” is an instrumental bridge, the atmosphere swelling, stars mixing into the clouds, fading into “Conflagration” that’s instantly dour. The guitars attack as the chugging pace crushes rock, a gasp of calm gushing as the soloing catches fire. The guitars turn into isolated sorrow, and then the howls crash, the pace picking up and unleashing electricity, the playing cascading into a tingling end. “Reflection” is a third, final instrumental with sounds basking in light, echoes shattering, voices warbling in your mind, clouds spreading through the skies.

“Collapse” opens with the drums rousing, guitars flooding, howls wrenching as your skeletal structure ruptures. The vision crystalizes and moves into black metal territory, creaky howls lash, and tornadic forces uproot trees, the drums mashing and a metallic glow warming. “Entropic” is the longest track, running 10:25, turning up the heat, howls crushing and smearing, the guitars circling as they swim through psychological pain. Ashen guitars spread as melodies flood, the force leaves you dizzy, and the screams lash from the shadows. Doom spills guts as dual guitars melt, psychedelic waters trickle, and the mood drains stars. Closer “Acceptance” opens with acoustics and softer singing, the guitars beginning to buzz, a folkish surge dousing with rustic spirits. Leads burn brightly as the guitars simmer, voices murmur as the growls mix with clean singing. Guitars cut as chatter settles, outdoor noises bleeding through the speakers, fading into time.

Solystalgia are off to a promising start with their stunning self-titled debut record, and adventure that rouses and carries you through the woods and streams, fresh, cold air in your lungs. The dark subject matter is woven generously into these songs, helping you feel every bit of what went into creating these eight songs. This has power you can feel in your mind and body, and it has a lot of offer emotionally that it could help release the pressure valve inside of you.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://namelessgraverecords.com/collections/nameless-grave-records-releases

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

From the beginning, Belgian force Emptiness has been an enigma. There are bands that change their stripes now and again, adding parts or influences long lingering. It’s not uncommon. But this entity is different, adhering to no set structure, operating without any boundaries, and refusing apologies along the way for anyone they isolated.

“Nowhere Speaks,” their seventh album, is about as close as one can get to Emptiness’ earlier years, when there was more of a black metal bend and unforgiving distortion that always bent a little awkwardly. It’s a very major departure from 2021’s “Vide,” their most polarizing record to date, but it also isn’t a return to anything really. The band—vocalist/bassist Jeremie Bezier, guitarist/synth player Olivier J.L.W., guitarist Simon L., synth player Dea Hydra, drummer Laye Louhenapessy—basically punches holes through eras and tunnels to wherever it takes them, and this record, while more in line with, say, “Error” or “Nothing But the Whole,” isn’t wholly familiar. It might seem that way on the surface, but digging deeper reveals that DNA has completely changed. Again.

“Nothing But the Whole (Part 2)” warbles in noise and slow-driving crumbling, falling into “The Threat” that hammers right away, Bezier’s speak-growling pressing. Darkness spreads generously, washed-out worlds spiraling, strange echoes meeting up with charnel winds that smear grease. “Nowhere Speaks” is punchy, the vocals snarling as the playing spellbinds, raining down as Bezier’s howls dig under the skin. Guitars veer off and paint outside the lines, sounds briefly calm before reengaging, and the drums hammer, voices chilling and trailing off. “Darkness Commands” is an interlude with guitars gathering into a sound halo, sprawling toward “Words to Wind,” the longest track, running 8:24. The atmosphere is stormy and impossible to navigate, hiss vocals washing over, an elegance spreading that rolls in soot. The playing blackens minds, cluttering and adding commotion, guitars rising as the gloom settles. Smothering growls call as the guitars scorch, slipping into eternity and letting its ghost expire.

“One Must See All” is a final interlude, sounds gushing, guitars gazing, and a lifeless sky opening, lathering your brain. “When the Whole Arrives” has the bass striking, whispers sending chills down the spine, the pace bursting open and reveling in its thickness. Warbled words spread as the guitars boil, the drums send spatter flying, and the final moments melt away everything. “The Clash of Forces” basks in synth beams before clobbering, the vocals pressing on your carotid artery, the guitars charring. An entrancing fog spreads, chilling the air, the riffs trudging out. “Next in Line” feels bizarre when it starts, unsettling even, gentle guitars luring you in, voices making your mind flip. Things pick up as whispers creep, the drums drive through your chest cavity, and the doom pall leans into closer  “All for Nothing” that hangs in pulsing guitars. Warped vocals make things nausea-inducing, the drums pounding as the guitars sting. Balmy air and mysterious shadows unite, melody floods through corroded gaps, and everything piles on top for suffocation.

“Nowhere Speaks” is another curveball from Emptiness, and the only reason it is one is because the music stretches back closer to the band’s origins. These are the sounds that helped put them on the map, but with strains of their experimentation threaded into the whole. This is another new era for these beasts, albeit one that’s a bit familiar, even if the surroundings are warped in a way on which you can’t place your finger.

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

To buy the album (North America), go here: https://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/list/emptiness-nowhere-speaks

Or here (Worldwide): https://shop.season-of-mist.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.season-of-mist.com/home/

There is evil among us that deserves to experience a devastating end, a humiliating demise that could spread some semblance of joy among so many people who have been hurt. But reality rarely seems to punish the unjust—it always seems the opposite is true—so we have to delve into fantasy sometimes to get a modicum of satisfaction.

Dustin Cleary helms blackened doom project Blackstaff, and on the EP “Drowner,” he imagines a tale where night travelers follow a light path into the swamp, either reaching their demise or finding their parts resurfaced for a greater beast. He’s purposely vague about the inspiration though does say the concept piece is inspired by a major news story about a helper for the rich and famous who “met a conveniently untimely demise before his day in court.”  Pretty sure I know who he means. Anyway, the piece itself is raucous, atmospheric, and adventurous, a thunderous new curve in Cleary’s path.

“Swamp Lights/Drowner” runs a little over 10 minutes, and sounds ring out and sting ears, trudging and smothering, the guitars taking on a Celtic Frost feel. Shrieks mar as the ferocity spikes, slowly adding pressure and spilling into an atmospheric gush, choked with clouds. The bottom gets torn out as the playing thrashes harder, screams ripple as the heat melts metal, the energy warbles and bleeds into “Godlike” that sickens with moaning doom. Guitars smoke and chug as the aura gets gnarlier, the darkness contorting into ashen devastation, masking bones. Guitars spit and make your ears ring, drums kick harder, and we push into closer “Flesh Golem” that basks in wilting heat. The playing jars as eeriness spreads, haunting as the ground quakes, growls menacing, synth leaving strange scars. Screams boil in acid, and the pace comes unglued, crushing with mangling force, combusting as the growls bury teeth in muscle, the final moments bleeding away.

“Drowner” is a powerful EP from Blackstaff that also has strange storytelling that lurks beneath the chaos. This is an adventure that, while appetizer sized, pulls you through the darkness and into the swamps to figure out what fate awaits. And let’s be honest: What’s on the other side likely isn’t welcoming, this metallic beast luring you to the end.   

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

To buy the album, go here: https://blackstaff.bandcamp.com/album/drowner-ep

It’s going to be 97 degrees tomorrow (which apparently will feel like 106), and the air conditioning just died. At 9 p.m. When it’s really easy to get service to come out, especially when your neighborhood is considered dangerous because non-whites live around here. I am baking alive in a house with poor air circulation, sweating out each minute.

Wailin Storms’ fifth record “The Arsonist” certainly delivers similar physical heat, but it also grinds your mind down into sweat and grit. The band’s doomy, thunderous, fiery rock is dragged through Southern dust, tossed with Gothic colors, and spit back out as ready-to-use fuel. The band—vocalist/guitarist Justin Storms, guitarist/Rhodes organist/piano player/vocalist Ben Melton, bassist Steve Stanczyk, drummer Mark Oates—dashes through tales, confessions, and diatribe dripping with gas, ready for a spark to send it blazing into the night sky. It’ll make you sweat mind and body.

“Dead End” starts with the guitars smoking, the singing clouding, a dusty, driving pace kicking things into high gear. The intensity peaks as screams ripple, coldness sneaking up on you, the guitars flexing as the power feels like a lather strap across your back. “Heart of Mine” quivers as it emerges, feeling like a rattlesnake sending warning, clawing as Storms calls, “Can’t we understand that all the problems start with man?” No arguments there. The playing unleashes sunburst, keys melt as the guitars char, striking until the bitter end. “You Never Answered” punches in, howled words bruising with balled fists, Storms declaring, “I’m not dead … yet!” On/off thrashing makes blood race, Storms insisting, “I tried to call, but you never answer,” acoustics adding texture to the volatility. The title track starts with Storms howling, “Lover, you’ve got me shaking,” moodiness sweeping into guitar echo, the playing weeping through static-filled punches. The calm rebounds as slide guitar glistens, the calls reaching out desperately, Storms leveling, “You always had a hold on me.”

“Never Rest” has the guitars agitating and chugging, a Zeppelin-style stomp leaving boot marks, drawing blood and choking on mud. “I get no rest ever,” Storms sings, “please give me peace,” as the playing ignites, the volume doing ample damage. “I’ve seen it all before, fuck your fucking war,” Storms stings before repeatedly yelling, “Die! Die! Die!” as molten anger flows like a river. “Saved” steams, a calculated pace pushing, the singing prodding as the guitar work gets thicker. Things get burlier as the vocals spit nails, the energy stretches, and everything melts in the hot sun. “Patient Night” has guitars striking and the bass coiling, the playing feeling blistering and then pillowy. The chorus rouses and washes over you, the pace pummels, and the fluid chaos pools like blood. “The Wind” is swampy and heavy, trudging over hot pavement, Storms calling, “Shame shame, see your eyes start to change, shame shame, how our mind starts to fade.” The playing rips apart, slide guitars heating up, the playing trucking before hitting a brief bit of calm. The mood feels like it’s locked in the desert, howls rising as the darkness bends, bleeding into silence. Closer “It’s All Dark Now Where Your Eyes Used to Be” lets piano drip, the discomfort sprawl, and tensions rise. Apocalyptic visions ooze, foreboding spirits make your muscles shake, and Storms calls, “Your reflection only says one thing, there’s a hole where your heart’s supposed to be,” as everything washes into the horizon.

Wailin Storms have a heaviness that’s both physical and psychological on “The Arsonist,” a record that’ll choke your lungs with dust and thick blankets of smoke. This is very human music, the type that results from heartbreak, anger, and frustration, sending warning that the emotions have coiled and are ready to strike. This music weighs on you, it batters more than just your ears, and it leaves you buried in the dirt, heaving.

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

To buy the album, go here (U.S.): https://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/list/wailin-storms-the-arsonist

Or here (International): https://shop.season-of-mist.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.season-of-mist.com/home/

I’m not sure that the organized Christian religion has been more laughable than it is right about now, what with it being used to justify atrocities against pretty much anyone who isn’t white male. Not that THAT is a new trait. It also makes for fertile soil for artists who want to torch such hypocrisy and bastardization, likely making them a new target for the alleged “pious.”

Greek spirits Jehovah on Death arrive with their first full-length “Lágrimas de Oro” (which translates to “Tears of Gold”), and their power and bombast both lashes out at such obscene public worship (something Jesus taught should be avoided) and swords being taken up in the name of any god. Powerhouse vocalist Señora Dolorosa joins an unnamed band of fellow heathens to create a form of occult rock and metal similar to Jex Thoth, the Devil’s Blood, and Blood Ceremony (without the flutes) that stands in defiance of these actions. This doesn’t reinvent the wheel or anything, but it’s catchy and vibrant in a morbid way, with the band taking from Spanish Catholicism as well as medieval beliefs and suspicions to power their engine. Next time around, pulling even more from these places, adding more rustic strings could go a long way toward setting them apart.

The title track starts with guitars driving, the leads smearing as the singing jolts adrenaline. The pace haunts as acoustics mix into the fire, adding a Spanish flavor and gusting like as storm, rich singing rousing as the dust settles. “Sacerdotal Fire” is spacey and catchy, fires exploding from corners, Dolorosa singing, “Rising up ever higher, let us go up in smoke.” Group yells power as the guitars come to life, the soloing ripping a hole in your psyche. “Para Tu Sagrada Angustia” is a quick instrumental with enchanting guitars that eventually are whipped into a frenzy, opening a portal toward “Catherine Wheel” that unleashes vintage guitars. The verses are sung almost exactly like “Stranglehold” to the point where there’s a “baby” sung in the middle of each line. It’s hard to shake, honestly. The guitar work is fiery, the bass flexes, and the heated momentum carries you over the finish line. “Suspiria (Diableria)” fades in, the embers coming to life, Dolorosa wailing, “You call to me,” as leads glimmer. Energy pulses as classic metal guitars explode, lava bubbling over.

“Blood Madonna” has riffs steaming and chugging, the singing soaring, and a summer heathen vibe making your brain find an odd section of comfort. “Oh scarlet mother, forever in our hearts, we are bound to drown,” Dolorosa howls, fiery guitars go off, and the blood in your veins bubbles and fades. “Por Quien Marchan Las Velas” is a second instrumental, drums echoing and tapping, a rattling sprint darting into “Ride on Ye Furious Host” that instantly ignites. The singing muscles as the adrenaline courses through veins, the low end chopping and quaking, soloing exploding with power. The chorus tears back in as spirits are roused from rest, the playing spellbinding and numbing. Closer “Lord, Let Me Be Your Instrument of Pain” has a thick 1980s jolt that feels about right, the singing immerses you in magic, and the guitars swelter. Dolorosa explodes, calling the song’s title over the chorus, pleading for the honor, fading just as the song was gaining momentum.

Jehovah on Death are the latest in the line of bands mining occult riches for their sound and inspiration, and “Lágrimas de Oro” is a promising first full-length effort. The fire is there, especially in the stunning vocals and muscular guitar work, but they could stand to add some more of their own personalities into the music in order to stand out. They clearly have the tools. From there, they need to find their chemistry and magic to elevate themselves to the next level of their game.

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

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

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

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

I went to see the “Masters of the Universe” movie the afternoon it came out, and it strangely was a revelation to me. There’s a point here. It allowed me to dissolve into a fantasy tale that also connects to my formative years and let me kind of forget everything going on outside the theater doors if only for two hours. Speaking of swords.

“Gateways,” the fourth full-length from international force Sojourn, has a similar effect. Their fantastical black metal mixed with folk always resonated, yet there’s something about this record that stands apart from their others. It feels bigger, more dramatic, and more urgent, not that their previous work lacked any of those qualities. It also marks the arrival of co-vocalist Heike Langhans, formerly of Draconian, whose pipes elevate everything and feel locked into what this band does so well. The rest of the unit—vocalist Emilio Crespo, multi-instrumentalist Mike Lamb, bassist Mike Wilson, drummer Riccardo Floridia—are in fine form, sweeping you up and dragging you along with them on a 47-minute adventure that might help you escape into something that makes your blood race.

“Dawnrays” opens with keys raining, the playing jolting, and the leads fluttering, shrieks belting flesh as the energy surges. Langhans’ singing then soars, the atmosphere going back and forth from breezy to fiery, everything turning cold. Keys and strings rouse as a dramatic gust pulls wind from lungs, the shrieking/singing combination pulls, and the atmosphere fades. “And the Paintings Fall” opens with rustic whistles, Langhans’ singing igniting as Crespo’s howls leave bruising, a gothy power settling and enrapturing. Dueling vocals ravage as the pace storms, deep growls pound, the tempo kicks up and thunders, and string ache as tornadic force flexes. Langhans and Crespo again tangle, crushing with power, shimmering away. “Lunar Tear” opens amid darkness, strings cooling as Langhans’ vocals fill chests with emotion, viciousness lurking around the corner as the clouds get darker. The temperature drops gradually, singing making blood flow, everything combusting as feral shrieks punish, leaning into chilling keys to soothe reddened flesh.

“Occultation” basks in keys and strings, violent jolts arriving, Langhans’ heartfelt singing reaching over mountaintops, fluid leads adding to the moment. The playing turns grittier as growls gut, the singing offers a counterbalance, and the power explodes, pulling you along for the ride. “Epitaphs” brings softer keys, and then the pace trudges, guitars glowing as the dual vocals offer glimpses of light and dark. Glorious melodies take over as Crespo’s monstrous howls shake the ground, keys dripping like melting icicles, Langhans’ singing opening up the center and letting blood course from exposed hearts. Both voices combine and rush, the playing haunts and rivets, and everything drives to its finish. “Vvardenfell” has keys echoing, horns ringing out, and folkish melodies entrancing even as wild howls warp minds. The pace erupts and bustles, while screams rage as Langhans brings a dose of delicacy, Celtic-style melodies flourish, and all elements spiral into time. Closer “The Road Ahead” is foggy at first, Langhans urging, “Shed your earthly skin,” as the leads flood around her. Guitars open wider, sunlight speeding through pinholes that are not gaping, as she wails, “Cross the oceans to find safer harbors,” as the emotion swells, screams leave welts on skin, and everything unites as one before taking final flight.

“Gateways” is a stunning display by Sojourner, a record that fills every pore with majesty and chaos. Having Langhans on board adds another element to what this band does so well, and she really shines the brightest on this album. The band’s epic black metal sounds as sharp and channeled as ever, and this might be the deadliest version of the band yet.

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

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

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

How would you like to have your face pounded into the pavement and then dragged a couple hundred yards while you gasp for air? Not interested? OK, let’s pretend that experience is proverbial and that it’s how you’ll feel once Haserot have finished with you, force feeding a diet of classic death metal.

Their debut full-length is “Advent of Suffering,” and the title tells you everything you need to know about this band that bows in the halls of early ’90s death metal and stretches those into modern graveyards. This is a beating from beginning to end, an album that longtime death metal fans likely will digest greedily and those who have come along since should find just as appetizing. Like, in a gross way. The band—vocalist Justin McKittrick, guitarists Maurice Eggenschwiler and Brandon Johnson, bassist Garrick Smith (Keegan Kelly handles live duties), drummer Cryptos Grimm—brings tons of heaviness and heat, burying you under an inhumane mountain of filth that is impossible to escape.

“Advent of Suffering” enters amid glowing leads that burst, a dose of speed, and howls ripping through your nervous system. Leads spill over as the crushing force overwhelms, the guitars swim through undercurrents, and everything reignites at the end and burns away. “Poverty of Thought” explodes with grimy guitars, and a true old-school death metal vibe, roars pounding as the humidity builds. The playing ramps up and tangles muscles, channeled chaos breaks through walls, and the momentum drives into a hurricane. “Apophis” wrecks as the growls trudge, and a thrashing abandon takes over, wicked cackles adding insult to injury. The playing sprawls for a moment before hitting the gas pedal, screams ravage, and violent, yet warm leads grasp your neck. “Tears in Bethlehem” delivers a gut punch, howls snarling as the guitars glide, growls scraping flesh, dual leads flexing. Strong soloing buckles, taking on a classic feel, harsh calls batter, and the final retches blurt stomach acid. “Cruentis Omega” is a brief instrumental built with classical-style guitars playing, bleeding clean, fluid energies.

“Khlyst” dawns with thawing leads, gutting growls, and a gasp of atmosphere, soaring into the clouds. There’s a slight progressive taste added, howls bristling as guitars layer, the last jolts fading out. “Beneath the Cairn” batters as a total onslaught takes over, the growls bury as the intensity spikes, creating a blistering tempo that causes blood pooling, erupting into noxious fumes. “Madness and the Void” has guitars encircling and growls clawing, a melodic and airy infusion making breathing a little easier, the savageness notwithstanding. Guitars emerge from the muck as raw howls hammer, the playing torching and leaving blisters. “The Tenth Circle” pummels, screams raining down as teeth shake from skulls, the guitars feeling active and fluid. Guitars slither as the growls sink in sharp teeth, crashing harder into the earth as darkness smothers. “Curse of Haserot” closes things, warm leads making things feel swampier, growls directing their disgust, scorching as tension rises. The guitars erupt and send lava curls threatening (guitar legends James Murphy and Andy Laroque both guesting here), the madness fills your head, and the final moments dive through fury before evaporating.

“Advent of Suffering” is a tried-and-true death metal serving from Haserot, a record that isn’t reinventing the sub-genre but adds generously to its grit. This is fiery death with an appreciation for melody, and it gets in, does its damage, and leaves, blood and bodies trailing behind. This is muscular, faithful carnage done in an old-school manner with a modern taste for bloodshed.

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

To buy the album, go here (U.S.): https://tornfromthegrave.us/collections/redefining-darkness-records

Or here (Europe): https://tornfromthegrave.com/collections/redefining-darkness-records

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

Anger and frustration over where we are in 2026 is palpable as we watch things erode around us, including any semblance of a government that has the plight of the people in mind. Why worry about the downtrodden (or anyone else not in the elite class) when there is money to make and people to exploit?

Long-running doom machine Solace are marking three decades as a band with “Fading Failing Ruin,” an aptly named record that drips with venom and annoyance as we try to exist in an increasingly more hostile world. The band—vocalist/keyboardist Justin Goins, guitarists Justin Skyler Daniels and Tommy Southard, bassist Mike Sica, drummer Tim Schoenleber—smokes and pummels over nine tracks and more than an hour of heat that also visits ’90s-style rock and psychedelic strains as they make their case that things are coming apart, and we should be angrier about it.

“Spiral Will” powers open, Goins singing taking command, the chorus binding as keys glaze. This has a great throwback doom feel, the solo lathering as energy combusts, and every element blends into a smokescreen. “Fettered to a Stone” fires up, cold singing swaggering, Goins prodding, “We’re declining!” Obviously he means we as a society and not the band. The playing darkens as the soloing muscles, bubbling with heart and dual leads, Goins lashes out over surviving “in a world that lives to see you burn in hell.” “A God Changes His Plans” sounds like early 90s heavy rock, sort of like Warrior Soul, as an example. The pace drives hard, with emotions seething, a dirtier, grungier approach poking wounds. “A future born of a dope-sick mother,” Goins jabs, the playing landing some final blows. “Wrath’s Object (The Big Fall)” is the longest track here, running a healthy 14:45, a slow-melting, scene-setting first half of the song mainly letting the fog spread. About seven minutes in, the guitars strike, the leads add smoke, the emotion spikes as Goins calls, “Last look before the stitches close.” The soloing boils as the song snarls with anger, trudging and churning, coming to a fiery end. Not sure this song had to be quite this long, but the second half really hammers.

“Culling the Herd” is a quicker gust, guitars speeding and mounting  spiral attack, the singing washed out. The playing stomps harder, landing blunt strikes, Goins calling, “To envy the free means bending the knee.”  “Beyond Below” has heated riffs, a punchy pace, and a powerful chorus. “And the world fell away, our hearts filled with nothing,” Goins lashes, the words spat, the dirtier pace digging in as playing lights up, strong soloing spilling lava, heat rippling as the noise pierces. “Malengine (The Scaffold)” starts with a Rush-like riff, clean guitars releasing heat, thorny singing dragging you over the ground. The guitars add sinew as the leads glimmer before turning tougher again, creating blisters. The emotion floods with electricity as the guitars swim through a minefield.  “Every Day Is a Loaded Gun” chugs and thrashes, a confrontational tone setting the key, keys glazing through the turbulence. The playing swells into a psyche wash, the singing numbing, acoustics joining the fray to add more texture. The playing picks up the pace and lumbers, organs gushing as the final punches land. Closer “Ridden” runs 10:23 and explodes with hearty singing, a bluesy swagger, and the leads firing up and smudging. The soloing takes off and crashes, balmy melodies repeating, and almost ritualistic bloodletting tracing over old scars. “What the hell would you crawl through if you thought you could change that broken part of you for something even you could not degrade?” Goins repeats, boiling through reflection, anger, and frustration, the finality crushing.

“Fading Failing Ruin” once again has Solace offering a beefy, generously served slab of music that is overflowing with emotion and pain, something no listener could deny. A bit of editing and some brevity really could make this band a lot meaner, as they clearly have the tools to be one of doom’s deadlier acts. Less—and just a little less—could go a long way for Solace, though this still is a mighty, effective album with plenty of high points.

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

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

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

There are records that, when you put them on, you can tell this isn’t just a collection of songs, but a lived experience. You can tell from the grit, the humanity, the shed blood, the intensity, and indication that every ounce of the musicians poured guts into the songs. These aren’t records you put on and forget. They linger in your mind like a ghost.

Irish doom/sludge pounders Soothsayer deliver that kind of experience on “The Unbinding,” their second record and first for Apocalyptic Witchcraft. Over five tracks and 45 minutes, the band—vocalist Liam Hughes, guitarists Marc O’Grady and Con Doyle, bassist Pavol Rosa, drummer Gerard O’ Callaghan—delivers darkened hell, informed by grief and rage but also delving into the essence of their home country. This is a record that weighs more than it seems on the surface. It will batter you to your core but also might carve a pathway to confronting your own chaos.

“Eroding the Sky” opens mystically before driving down the hammer, ripping with throaty howls, slowing just to snarl at you, sorrow boiling your blood. Yells barrel as the tone darkens, lurching playing grows muscular, and Hughes wails, “Move past the barriers!” Leads stretch as the heat spits sparks, driving harder and punishing, melting into strangeness. “Sooner Acceptance” drips as the singing delivers pain, trudging as the growls bury, the leads increasing the steam’s stickiness. Guitars cloud as the speed triumphs, ravaging and unloading, meaty blows breaking jaws, the energy spiking. Guitars swim as the drums rumble, sounds simmering as the cloud coverage blocks the sun.

“Endless Shesha” is doomy and sullen, growls menacing, pounding away as the guitars flex muscle. “Chaos inside me!” Hughes howls as the playing pulls back a bit before blowing up all over, storming with furious tension, dropping the final hammers. “The Vine” is eerie and chilling before howls erupt, and the playing sinks in its teeth. Guitars well and smear as desperation fills the air, the bass leading as cloudy melodies increase, growls decimate, and a sinister laugh sends gasps under water. Closer “A Vague Shimmer” is the longest track, running 12:54, throat buzzing haunts as bellowing singing swells, doom crawling over bloodied rock. The singing grips as the guitars moan, yells echoing in the building storm, emotions flooding. Vocals slash as the band delves slightly into progressive territory, growls marring as clean singing warbles, whirry strangeness swallowing.

“The Unbinding” is a fully encompassing experience, one that further establishes Soothsayer’s standing in the doom world and trumpets them as a band that deserves and demands your attention. This record is both brutal and breathtaking, a journey that pulls you through their homeland and into frustration and anger burning in their hearts. This whole thing smokes and dominates, shaking you to your skeletal structure.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://orcd.co/apw066

For more on the label, go here: https://apocalypticwitchcraft.co.uk/