Pretty sure I said this before, but it’s not like you’ve read every story on here. Anyway, technical death metal often isn’t totally my thing, because so much of it sounds antiseptic, robotic. Very well-rehearsed and stunningly well-played, it often forgets to add the heart and the blood and the imagination. But not always.

Leeds, England, death metal power Cognizance very obviously have impressive chops, but they also make records that feel like an adventure, keeping your brain moving and your ideas smashing into synapses. Their great fifth record “In Light, No Shape” bombards you with strength and challenges your will to adventure in your brain, even as you take on heavy bruising. That’s especially since the band—vocalist/guitarist Alex Baillie, guitarist Apostolis Karydis, bassist Chris Binns, drummer David Diepold—sustained a loss in ranks with the departure of vocalist Henry “Big Mac” Pryce, yet they turned this around two years after “Phantazein,” and they sound no worse for wear. They destroy here.

“Transient Fixations” starts clean before the cleaver drops, guitars gutting as the growls bury, proggy turns cutting into your psyche, draining brain chemicals. The playing drives as fluid guitars ice wounds, gliding through a wall of blades. “Inflection Chants” is melodic, clobbering hard, the growls churning as the guitars torch, the notes bubbling over. Soloing goes off and electrifies, an airy, yet techy attack jolting, everything disappearing in spacious skies. “A Game of Proliferation” is reflective at first, kinetic jarring shaking bones, snarling growls crawling underneath a blanket of smoke. Howls tangle as the muddiness increases, everything coming to a gritty end. “Chasm” bludgeons, the leads barnstorming, the choppy waters evening, the vocals deepening and getting ugly. The guitars brighten, drubbing with calculating power, an atmospheric gush flattening. “Vertical Illusion” trickles over torn flesh, thrashing as the howls scrape, a beastly attack taking you to the ground. The pace flurries as the leads tangle, the solo swells, and the battle mangles to the end.

“A Reconfiguration” has guitars stretching, smoke rising, and strange playing making your flesh crawl. The playing swelters as the atmosphere increases, the fury multiplying and melting into cosmic dust. “Witness Marks” dawns morbidly, monstrous growls choking, churning in brutality as blood dots the ground. A spacey feel settles in as the riffs spiral, speed becomes a greater factor, and throaty wells battle into a synth cloud. “Subterranean Incantation” has a strange alien feel before it begins bruising, aching growls punishing, feeling infernal. Guitars blow up and gush light, raucous energy charging and melting into the night. “Induced Contortions” wages war, flattening as the guitars sprawl, the vocals battering and leaving brush burns. The leads spiral as the drums spatter, tricky guitars taking unconventional angles and bending steel. Closer “The Zone” lands punches, the abrasive nature multiplying, the playing gutting with ferocity. Leads light up and spread as the tempo spasms, guitars blurring and fading.

Cognizance prove, again, that it is possible to make technically proficient music with character and charisma, and “In Light, No Shape” has all the evidence you’ll ever need. Both sonically violent and creatively impressive, this album can leave you mangled but also strangely reinvented psychologically. Turning around something this good shortly after a major lineup shift couldn’t have been easy, but here we are with this monster on our hands.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.willowtip.com/store/default.aspx

For more on the label, go here: https://www.willowtip.com/home.aspx

The year 2010 seems like a million fucking years ago. We lost Ronnie James Dio that year. “The Walking Dead” premiered. A pair of devastating earthquakes ravaged Haiti. Viktor Orbán took control of Hungary for a second time, something that he would not lose until like 5 minutes ago. It also was the last time we got a full-length from Lair of the Minotaur.  

All this time later, the world has completed changed, mostly for the worse, but Lair are back in action with “I HAIL I,” their fifth album and fitting successor to 2010’s “Evil Power.” The band—guitarist/vocalist/synth player Steven Rathbone, bassist Sanford Parker, drummer Chris Wozniak—unleashes 10 tracks over 30 minutes that dig back into Greek mythology (with one notable exception) and their cauldron of bubbling black doom that leaves massive abrasions. It’s a much welcome comeback for a band that made its mark in a different era but has plenty of firepower to amass a new legion of followers.

“Emperor of Dis” opens and immediately attacks, wasting no time as doom and hardcore fumes mix, trudging as the shouts punish. The energy increases as screams batter, everything coming to a smothering end. The title track is urgent and bloody, mauling through a gritty pace, the simple, yet barbaric chorus landing blows. Layers of chaos envelope as the drums melt down, and forceful barks gurgle blood. “Enthroned in Violence” opens amid a great, sinister riff that sticks in your brain, and thick thrashing mounts an attack that is barbaric. Guitars scorch as the vocals are more like a scream/yell hybrid, smearing and mashing as the guitars chug. “Fucked Inside Out” is fast and ferocious, a relentless pace spiraling and making the room spin out of control. Ugliness compounds and forces soot into your mouth, decimating and coating with noxious fumes. “Deepest Hell” also is a quick, yet muscular blast, the howls gutting over a rubbery pace, the guitars staggering as if having ingested whiskey, acidic wails peeling rust from metal.

“Saturnus Reign” is enthroned in chrome, blistering as the bass chugs, bathing everything in heat and might that chews at flesh. Wails slither as the grime thickens, the pace drubbing as wails boil, and the final moments bludgeon anew. “Prowler Twin Sister” is sludgy and muscular, barked howls causing the ground beneath you to shift, the easy chorus doing its damage and infecting your mind. The fury continues to burn as it stomps through the mud, sending cinders flying. The most unexpected moment of the record is the cover of Ethel Cain’s “Family Tree” from her album “Preacher’s Daughter” (which is incredible, by the way). They take a track that’s awash in tragedy, bloodshed, and secrets and turn it into a metallic punk anthem, delving just a bit into black metal. It’s interesting.  “Vulture Worship” basks in weird synth and echoed growls, weirdness seeping out of every crevice, an immersive bridge to closer “Tartarus Apocalypse,” the longest track, running 7:23. It’s doomy and slow driving at first, the growls dragging, the guitars increasing the heat in what’s an already sweltering space. The playing even feels glorious in spots, adding some glimmer through the filth, the last part hitting harder and heftier, deliberate fires allowed to burn until they consume every element.

While it’s been a long while since we had a visit from Lair of the Minotaur, “I HAIL I” is an ideal way for them to re-burn their mark on the metal world as well as their campaign to conjure abject heaviness. The album is lean and mean, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fill you to the brim with ferocity. This jam-packed half hour likely is to result in even more volatile live shows and their reclaiming their spot among doom’s bloodiest.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://lairoftheminotaur.bandcamp.com/album/i-hail-i-2

For more on the label, go here: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100070415107918#

About a decade and a half ago, I left a job I adored in an industry I (at the time) loved at a place I revered. It was overtaken by some humans and a philosophy that are diametrically opposed to me, and one of the best things I ever did was leave. It changed my life for the better even though it hurt me deeply to do what was so obvious.

“Infinite Illuminastion” is the final record from Spirit Adrift, something that actually made all the sense in the world to me. Band creator Nate Garrett spawned this project after he left Take Over and Destroy, got clean, and reimagined his thrust into metal. But the music business, like most, fucks you in the end. Something from your heart is turned into a “product” and commodified. Which defies true, genuine art. So Spirit Adrift, rounded out by guitarist Jason Dahlke, bassist Sonny DeCarlo, drummer Mike Arellano, deliver this final opus, an eight-track, 46-minute display that nicely ties together the band’s early, epic days with what followed, which was shorter, tighter writing. It’s a really fitting conclusion.

The title track opens, acoustics brushing before everything comes to life, Garrett calling, “Open my eyes so I may see.” The chorus brings calm before psyche warmth energizes your system, the leads lather, and moody, humid winds soothe before everything blasts back to life. “Window Within” is punchy and stirring, the heat rising, the singing bursting with energy as the soloing catches fire. The pace gets muddier, leads churning as its electric chorus glimmers and powers. “You Will Never Hold the Key” sparks with acoustics, the tempo picking up and driving, Garrett calling, “Your great reward will never be,” over the chorus. The playing heats as twin guitars glow, the track taking on an epic feel, the melting leads bringing illumination. The singing stretches as the dramatic synth reminds of “Seventh Son” fantasies, trickling slowly before pumping again, burning into oblivion. “Born in a Bad Way” is a total change of pace, going heavier and filthier, burly doom flexing sinew as the guitars smoke. The pace toughens further, menacing riffs churning as the final moments bleed out.

“Buried in the Shadow of the Cross” has a spacey start, guitars menacing, rich singing snarling as the riffs encircle. The aura gets tense, guitars fire and give off exhaust, and bluesy licks explode with attitude as Garrett’s laughs echo. “White Death” stomps, the vocals powering, riffs slipping and sneering, the guitars melting into Sabbath territory. The soloing melts as the playing pummels, shifting cosmically and growing frigid as doom marches away. “I Am Sustained” brawls, the slower, mid-paced beating unfurling, the playing eventually ramping up and glimmering. The guitars burst as the colors rush, injecting spirit into veins, everything coming to a burly end. Closer “Where Once There Was an Ocean” feels fantastical as it starts, leads dawning and storming, the vocals muscling through a psychedelic finish. The pace stomps harder as the leads slide into a washed-out haze, the imagery conjuring something just like the album’s cover art. The pace toughens and mashes, releasing thrashy fire, punching out into eternal blackness.

“Infinite Illumination” is a triumphant final chapter for this band, one that spent its six-album run gradually morphing into their ultimate version. It’s sad to lose a band as powerful and consistent as Spirit Adrift, whose music always was strong and honest, and their last record is a testament to that strength. We’re lucky to have the music Garrett and his co-conspirators have made over the years, and hopefully what lies ahead in the future is positive and fulfilling, something the music business rarely offers.   

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/collections/spirit-adrift

For more on the label, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/

Saying farewell to a metal institution isn’t something easy to do whether it’s the members of the band or a person writing about their final output. There is no question heavy metal changed fundamentally and positively when At the Gates arrived 36 years ago and released their debut “The Red in the Sky Is Ours” two years later. They’re pioneers, trailblazers, standard bearers, you name it.

The passing of legendary vocalist Tomas Lindberg last September after a battle with adenoid cystic carcinoma, a rare cancer, devastated the metal world that adored the fiery maned frontman whose charisma was infectious. But his story and that of his bandmates—guitarist Anders Björler (who returned in 2022 after a five-year absence) and Martin Larsson, bassist Jonas Björler, and drummer Adrian Erlandsson—wasn’t totally over. They had one more album up their sleeve with “The Ghost of a Future Dead,” containing Lindberg’s final recordings. And for a man who was suffering from an illness that impacted his very instrument, his voice sounds alive, forceful, and with all the character and fire we’re come to expect from him. The band also sounds channeled and passionate on these 12 tracks, some of which add some murkier twists and turns, and I can’t imagine a better way for this band to go out. Nor can I think of a more fitting way to pay tribute to Lindberg and his unmistakable voice.

“The Fever Mask” dawns in a strange haze before tearing open, Lingberg’s trademark howl only slightly weathered but as stirring as can be. Fluid leads stretch as colorful blistering bruises, the simple, but effective chorus ruling. “The Dissonant Void” has tingling leads and a melodic rush, the vocals attacking as the emotion lashes. The guitars turn sorrowful while torching, the chorus echoing in your ears. “Det Oerhörda” basks in static before the guitars cut, the pace trudging as melodies twist muscle. Murk settles into the fires, interesting bends turning heads, the raspy wails carrying the torch. “A Ritual of Waste” opens with drums tackling, smoking leads doing damage as the crazed howls torch. The chorus snarls as the pace rips hard, mashing as guitars claw, and the final moments scar. “In Dark Distortion” blazes with colors, wails caning flesh before atmosphere gusts into the room. The chorus mashes as the soloing ramps up the intensity, the guitars exploding and spiraling into orchestral synth. “Of Interstellar Death” begins with a drum attack, savagery scarring, Lindberg’s screams peeling flesh from bone. Dual leads glimmer as everything blasts explosively, the last gasps jolting away.

“Tomb of Heaven” swims in strange synth before knifing through guts, the leads blazing with energy and brighter shades. The chorus burns as the tempo thrashes, strong soloing crashes down, and everything dissolves into dirt. “Parasitical Hive” is a driving force, howls decimating, thick and burly playing making you pay the price. Leads gush, and then everything turns calmer before your senses flood again, going cold before melting into the ground. “The Unfathomable” explodes, screams barreling forward, the playing mashing as the leads go off in a frenzy. Fluid and ferocious riffing batters, heaviness flexing, a streak of darkness slipping into the bloodstream. “The Phantom Gospel” starts with guitars prodding before a devious spirit enters the room, the wails torching as the energy wrestles you to the ground. The pace melts as the leads light up the sky, Lindberg’s calls spitting cinders that get lodged in your teeth. “Förgängligheten” is an instrumental piece that dawns with bright acoustics before electricity rivets, warm sun streaks warming your face. Closer “Black Hole Emission” is our final dose of new ATG, which is something you shouldn’t let slip by you. Lindberg’s howls scorch, the pace rumbling, the playing setting nerve endings on fire. Energy surges along with fresh floods of melody, vicious thrashing works over your ribcage, Lindberg’s final howls reverberating as everything slowly fades.

At the Gates’ final chapter sounds like a celebration of the hellish path they trailblazed, “The Ghost of a Future Dead” standing as a fine testament to their legacy and Tomas Lingberg. You always want records such as these to be good and not feel rushed based on circumstances, but none of those worries ever come close to surfacing. This is a firebreather, a last blast into the night that will be visible across the night sky for eons.  

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://centurymedia.store/pages/at-the-gates-the-ghost-of-a-future-dead

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

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

When you see the name Pig’s Blood, you probably have an idea of the direction in which their music goes. I assume you’re not expecting something that goes well with a white wine or a night out, and if you did think that way, maybe music isn’t for you. I expected terror and firestorming chaos, and if that isn’t exactly what I got.

That carries over to their ferocious third album “Destroying the Spirit,” a slab of death metal so heavy and blinding it might be a little too war-ravaged for some listeners. Over 10 tracks and 33 minutes, the band—vocalist Chris Ellis, guitarists Mike Gamm and Paul Mirenda, bassist Bubba Nitz, drummer Brian Serzynski—immediately removes any sense of safety or calm you might feel and replaces that with madness that boils dangerously in your belly. It feels like fire ants crawling through your veins, devouring you mentally and physically as you writhe along to every savage beating you sustain.

“Standing in Depravity” grinds, the howls murdering, ugliness rising and flooding, the ferocity going off the charts. The pace crushes as blinding madness takes over, the heat exploding and fading. The title track engulfs, the leads soar, and the howls batter, swimming through your head and mangling limbs. The pace liquifies as deep growls scar, electrifying and snarling with ill intent. “Tartarean Infection” is hellish, riffs entangling, the vocals curding as the guitars encircle. The hammers drop and soot flies, burying with force, the growls bringing everything to a gruesome end. “Power to Stop It” is tempered at first, the vocals choking as the lead dizzy, the humidity thickening dangerously. The guitars hang overhead as the pace fully unloads, flattening and chewing into the ground. “Rabid Dogs” attacks, naturally, as a delirious pace melts, thrashing and devastating, furious growls sinking teeth into muscle. The leads smoke and feedback rings in your ears, bludgeoning as demonic shrieks rub glass in your face.

“Satanic Hammer of Justice” has leads swirling, the vocals attacking, and the tension rapidly increasing, chugging with fury. The temperature elevates as gnarly mashing draws blood, ending in pain. “Aftermath” detonates from the start, riffs wrestling, a storming, jolting attack knocking screws loose. The howls torch as the guitars catch speed, everything falling after an adrenaline spike. “Commitment to Death” tears open with the guitars trampling, the pace divebombing, and a thrashy tempo lashing before taking a brief breather. Guitars begin to bubble before boiling over, the blasts hit even harder, and the growls sicken before the volume subsides. “Ravenous Hellslaught” chokes you out with intensity, the band opening the blast furnace as the guitars thunder in, clawing at you with violent intent. A hellish fury swallows you whole, bloody handprints left from where you tried to crawl away. “Strikeforce of Isolate Will” closes the record, guitars launching as a wrecking pace levels, the grime thickens, and the playing slays. Wild cries attack as playing continues to rain down blows, the guitars chug, and the final moments flatten.

“Destroying the Spirit” is a savage monster here to do maximum damage, which should be no surprise to anyone who had encountered Pig’s Blood prior to this album. It just flattens you, squeezing out all your juice and guts in front of you, paying no mind to the concept of mercy. You’re going to get flattened, and live it’s likely to be an even more bruising experience, so prepare yourself or else.  

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

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

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

There’s a lot of doom metal. A LOT. Well, there’s probably more black metal right now, and a lot of that sounds remarkably the same. Luckily for doom, even though there are a slew of artists making these sounds, there basically are sub-genres within the sub-genre to keep it interesting, so people keep figuring out how to keep it on fire.

Pittsburgh-based doom crushers Stalemate of Wills are doing their mightiest to keep the sludgy doom alive, going more the Crowbar route dashed with some hardcore. Their debut album “Existence Denied” sends a jolt of electricity toward doom that dabbles as much in classic sounds as it does the mud, and the band—vocalist/guitarist Derek Kovcas, bassist
Jake Morris, drummer Bob McSherry—hammers with confidence and power that’s infectious. Over eight tracks and 28 well-spent minutes, it’s easy to hear how much of their hearts are in this, and that translates into the music, that stays a blistering course but takes a few bends when it’s needed.

“Visibility” opens and trudges heavily, barked vocals grabbing your attention by force, grisly mangling taking you under the waves. The riffs turn bluesy and sweltering, the chorus hammers, and psyche effects fade away. “Maximum Amounts of Woe” has throaty wails, a battering pace, and guitars that aim to mash digits in trunk doors. Beastly roars pump as the leads swelter, smoke rising and choking you out. The title track enters amid howls carving and then a sudden turn toward calm, cleaner playing icing before the temperatures rise again. Hardcore-style shouts drill you in the chest, the pace picks up, and Kovacs howls, “Extinguish the fire inside,” before everything melts away. “Two Worlds” has strong riffs that create a haze, stomping through mud, blistering as the humidity increases. Acidic wails scorch flesh, guitars spill before growing colder, and the final moments bring eternal numbing.

“Let It Be Known” opens with the drums driving, howls snarling, and the guitars swarming, pushing into a chugging pace. Riffs snake as the tempo gets more muscular, the heated attack continuing to make everything more uncomfortable on purpose. “High Above” is a nice change of pace, Kovacs unleashing raspier singing that honestly doesn’t get enough time to shine on this record. He has pipes and should use them more! Psyche colors flush as tougher wails return, adding thorns into the song, the guitars giving off fumes, everything spiraling into a strange vortex. “Unusual Character Profile” has guitars sweltering, the vocals lashing, the punishment welling up and laying waste. Leads smear, the growls do ample damage, and the melodies slither into the dark. Closer “Light the Way” has steely guitars, a solid assault, and additional hardcore jolts, the rhythm section showing its power. Guitars mount a final push, the vocals bring down the hammers, and the final moments succumb to echo.

Stalemate of Wills make a strong, measured debut on “Existence Denied,” a record that makes its point with force without overstaying its welcome. Lots of bands of this ilk feel the need to ramble on for minutes on end, which sometimes works, but this band delivers the goods and leaves the fat in the trash cans. This is a promising record that provides the band room for growth and also stands as an impactful first entry into doom’s crowded population.

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

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

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

I’m so tired of writing about how every week is more fucked than the week before it, no matter how it might seem to be a convenient crutch for opening these. I really want to be able to stop doing that. But wars, religious oppression, rising prices, political figures that better be in fucking comas for their lack of effort makes everything that much worse.

“Toward Dead Temples” is a split effort from Baltimore black metal crushers Nixil and Portland (West Coast version) black/death metal beasts Drouth that aims to flatten your mind for a while as you struggle with all of this. Imagine me waving my hands around. Anyway, Nixil—vocalist A., guitarists S.G. and A.B., bassist A.R., drummer M.T.—lash out of Christofascism and resulting dictatorships, torching a warped world that grows more poisonous by the day. Drouth—vocalist/guitarist Matt Stikker, guitarist/vocalist John Edwards, bassist/vocalist Matt Solis, drummer Patrick Fiorentino—rumble with force, crawling over a decaying land as they help spill cauldrons of lava to burn everything away.

“Never Rise Again” starts the Nixil section, and it is particularly agitated, active guitars drawing blood, yells echoing and bouncing off walls. A melodic charge opens and lathers, bringing total darkness as an alien, detached voice warbles, “INRI to never rise again,” howls claw, and hypnosis prevails. “Bloody Footprints on the Path of Bones” charges and chugs, howls scarring as the pace goes into atmospheric form. The singing staggers as guitars lurch, hurtling into a fiery flash point, the playing slowing to draw out the torture, the heat smearing soot. “I Am Not Here” is slower to start, strange singing drizzling, sounding inspired by Tom G. Warrior. The strange aura increases its reach, piercing as the calculated pace begins to thrash, tornadic dust chokes, and feral intensity strikes. Lead spill as the tempo punishes, melodies flooding and delivering a tingling finish.

“Cathartes Aura” begins Drouth’s portion, and it’s speedy and vicious, guitars attacking as punishing howls rain down, wrecking and ripping its way into you. The storm picks up strength, terrifying cries chewing nerve endings, a melodic surge arriving and pulling you under, colorful electricity cresting and burning off. “The Outer Church” mashes with maniacal force, blazing and tearing flesh from bone, the soloing erupting and spitting lava from its core. The playing flattens and thrashes, somehow figuring out a way to truck even harder, melodies providing the fuel, catapulting into a violent finish as Stikker howls, “I feel my breath claw at my throat as it is parted by a monstrous hand.”

Pairing Nixil and Drouth made sense on the surface and proves even more so on “Toward Dead Temples,” a split effort that feels perfectly timed. The world rarely has felt this volatile and also just filled with the dumbest fucking shit, so music aiming to take a torch to everything just might be the remedy. This is unforgiving stuff from two bands that are about as ugly and punishing as they come, with this an ideal one-two punch.  

For more on Nixil, go here: https://nixil.bandcamp.com/

For more on Drouth, go here: https://drouth.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://nixil.bandcamp.com/album/toward-dead-temples-nixil-drouth

Or here: https://drouth.bandcamp.com/album/toward-dead-temples

Can you imagine what you’d say to yourself if you could transport back to 2019? I know me, personally, probably would be writhing in panic over what was coming, including the loss of several close family members. Add that to the numerous horrible events that face people every day, leaving a lot of broken hearts and souls to crawl to the finish line.

“Scarabaeus” is the debut record from Lividus, a Portland, Ore., band that creates a sound that is pretty impossible to describe in person, though a  valiant effort will be made below. This record combines forces that played in other mammoth projects such as Witch Mountain, Ludicra, Dark Castle, and plenty of others, and nothing that they created here resembles any of those entities. Which makes this even more exciting. Focusing on trauma and its aftermath, the band— vocalist/viola player Uta Plotkin, guitarists Rob Shaffer and Christy Cather, bassist/backing vocalist Connie Wang, drummer Pierce Williams—warps metal and all of its various sounds, sometimes sounding like multiple different bands in one song. It’s a tremendous, exciting first step for a beast bound to melt boundaries.

The title track is an intro piece, guitars echoing, obscured calls ringing out, pushing into “Jettatori” that stirs and crushes, Plotkin’s dexterous voice snarling with shrieks and then belting out high notes. The playing sprawls and crushes, the singing swelters, the leads burst, and everything comes to a sinewy end. “Amphisbaena” corkscrews with the drums leading, howls battering and mangling, the rhythmic backbone contorting further. Singing wells as the leads energize, power bursting as Plotkin’s vocals  emit split personalities. “Viaticum” reveals glowing guitars and singing that leaves welts, the menace rising as the clean parts dart, and the leads dizzy. Guitars spill as the pace stuns, the singing encompassing all colors of spirit, the volume powdering bone. “The Empty Circle” has the singing driving, the guitars working up a lather, the colors going from light to dark and back. Plotkin goes from aggressive wail to banshee shriek, strings weeping over the carnage, demonic cries tangling with operatic ascent. “they blew the flies from their lips before they spoke” is an instrumental piece, guitars dripping as strings give a dreamy glaze, speaking echoing and snarling, the fantasy fading into ash.

“Sealing the Wound” has howls punishing, the leads exploring different layers as the singing takes a brighter turn. The pace compels and breaks out of its comfort zone, growls crawling down walls, the drums plastering, clean singing returning and wrapping itself around warm leads. “Make No Mark” features Quinton Gardner on guest vocals and has a progressive feel, guitars swimming as howls lash, the bass gripping, Plotkin calling, “Locked inside, never again to feel the pain.” Harsh cries and jolting calls mix, liquifying and ending in a heart flutter. “Sulphur” mashes, the singing guiding across the thorny regions before growls emerge and clutch with all their might. Tornadic gusts pound as the song grows more sinister and agitated, Plotkin wailing, “You burn me like sulphur,” as basslines bubble, and the final moments uncoil. “The Aftermath of the Flood” blisters, screaming slashing, guitars racing over sharp crags of rock as Plotkin’s voice continues to wear many faces. The playing builds momentum as blood rushes, the singing dominates, and the drums leave everything in the dust. Closer “A Reminder Of” bathes in strange synth, strings echoing and a cosmic gait trampling, ending with psychedelic strangeness.

Lividus’ emergence is one of the more exciting things that have happened in metal this year, and while they’re still a little rough around the edges, I think that adds to their appeal. “Scarabaeus” is a volcanically promising start, one that bends heavy sounds in new directions and lets metallic elements melt and bubble into new creations. As much as I love this record, I’m just as excited and curious about where they go next.

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

Feeling eternal darkness in your body and mind is not a rare commodity. In fact, about 720,000 globally choose to end their life annually, according to the WHO, so there are so many among us suffering and dealing with by sorrow. Being able to work your way out of that and find a different inner strength can mean control we wrest back.

Despite being a morbid, destructive black metal band, Dutch power Doodswens (whose name means death wish), seeks to stoke the flames of personal and mental strength, which powers their fiery new self-titled album. The band—vocalist/drummer I, guitarist P, bassist R (sorry that my site style broke up the RIP lineup)—isn’t trying to be warm and soft about this either. These songs are a flaming blade hoisted in the face of death, proving we can control our lives by fighting harder against that which seeks to destroy us.

“Driven by Death” opens with a voice warbling and then guitars driving, the playing lashing as it chars your flesh. Blistering screams piece as the leads spill, delirium and harshness hammering and fading. “Verrot” has guitars surging, wails crushing as speed becomes a factor, smearing into an atomic burst. The pace destroys before wrenching to a halt, igniting with ferocity for a final dash. “The Black Flame” enters amid echoing bells, then terrifying screams merge with the storm. Ferocity hits a tornadic level, black metal melodies flowing over, noise melting as melodies glimmer, dissolving into sound.

“These Wounds Never Healed” has slow-melting heat, howls scraping before the seams burst, with punishment doled out by feral forces. Guitars rain down as the melodies tremble, energy cresting and fading. “She Carries the Curse” opens with guitars draining, moody coldness thickening, howls wrenching as the atmosphere rumbles. Guitar bends send chills as everything cascades, and melodies glisten over a total assault. “Devils Stone” unloads with color, racing and bleeding, glorious black metal-style rivers gushing with intensity. Howls and shrieks smoke, the heat rising dangerously, blasting toward a heated end. Closer “Vlaamse Vloek” ravages,  melodic madness tripling, strangling with spastic force, riffs bouncing and tearing, obliterating the senses.

Doodswens are tackling dark spirits, trying to find weaponry for a battle against death that controls so many people’s live. Their fiery, labyrinth-bent black metal stays in your system, rocketing through your mind and through your bloodstream as you gather strength. It’s a record that impacts more than just brutally and ignites your darkest senses to survive without fear.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.svartrecords.com/en/product/doodswens-doodswens/14147

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

The universe is strange, and so is the metal inspired by the vast darkness, which only makes sense. I mean, we know what’s out there, but do we really? What if there is shit that we just can’t see? What if there is another self-destructive world on the other side of the universe? It gives you a lot of weird shit to think about.

Canadian metal wanderers Egregore dig into the more bizarre stretches of the cosmos, and on their second record “It Echoes in the Wild,” things push to expansive new territories both musically and thematically. Comprised of formers member of Auroch and Mitochondrion, the band—Shawn Haché aka Essentia Collapse (drums, vocals, acoustic guitars), Sebastian Montesi aka Catastrophe Saturna (lead guitars, acoustic guitars, vocals, synth),  Phil Fiess aka Helios Thread (bass, vocals)—combines death and black metal in a way that sounds much different than other bands doing similar things. This is an album that sounds good on first listen but only expands its reach on subsequent visits.

“Cast Adrift” is a strange opener that happens to be an ideal scene-setter that has guitars dawning, synth pumping, and warbling moving into “Voice on the West Wind.” Riffs tear as beastly howls smother, charging through speed and insanity. Whispers swirl as manic wails corkscrew, and the leads soar through magickal fire and into “Stair Into the Vortex” that exudes  brutality. The playing shifts as the shrieks tear away at the senses, the walls feeling like they’re coming down. The fury turns more urgent, mangling highs wrestling with wails echoing into the void. “Craven Acts of Desperate Men” is thrashy, shrieks and wails tangling, tricky playing twisting your brain, high-pitched singing feeling a bit like King Diamond. The leads go off, melodic soloing flooding over, the pace ravaging as the earth feels like it’s opening beneath you. “From the Yawning Crevasse Shrieks a Transmorphic Gale” explodes, the wails lashing, a delirious pace making your safety feel anything but secure. The vocals carve as the playing reverses track, thrashing through humid guitar playing and mystical keys that cool flesh.

“Corsairs of the Daath Gulf” opens the second half with strange vibes, voices warbling as sci-fi fantasy spreads its wings, glorious lava leads spilling into time. “Nightmare Cartographer” smears, death growls pummel, and the punishment crests and swims into spacey terrain. Clean calls stagger as the heat increases, shouts and growls do battle, and the pace smashes, flowing seamlessly into “Six Doors Guard the Original Knowledges” that feels techy and muscular. Leads drill as the playing mashes, screams melting, prodding into open-mouthed electricity. The guitars remind a lot of the main melody line to “Ride the Lightning,” and that mixes with anguished cries and jolts that jet into the distance. “Servants of the Second Death” grinds, the vocals spat like poison, relentless energy mixing with warm leads. The tempo wrenches, whispers sprawling through the air, fiery calls destroying before everything comes to a massive finish. The closing title track runs 9:54, blowing into eeriness, the song splitting open as the howls mangle, the aggressive push getting nicely zany. The drums smash before calm arrives, basslines washing over the stars, exploring far-off stretches. Leads flutter as group singing combusts, massive colors dashing by, everything endings in explosive power.

“It Echoes in the Wild” is a daring step ahead for Egregore, whose creativity and manic expression are equally brutal and dream-inducing. This blast of sci-fi-led death metal goes down a different path than a lot of like-minded bands have the past few years, making this one feel stranger and bloodier. This album is a neck-jerking turn into imaginative and cosmic expanse, proving this band has deeper levels of psychotic terror.

For more on the band, go here: https://egregore137.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/egregore

For more on the label, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/