There is such thing as an end-of-week record, something you put on to burn off steam and release the frustrations from the previous days. 1349’s “Hellfire” is one of those for me. If you hear that playing in my office late on a Friday afternoon (last week was like this), then you know it’s a frustrating stretch that needs to fuck off.

We’ve long been a fan of Boise, Idaho, crushers Ghorot, but their third and latest record “Obsidian” is something that takes their bruising, electrified doom and stretches it into pure agitation. The band—vocalist/bassist/guitarist Carson Russell, guitarist/vocalist Chad Remains, drummer/vocalist Brandon Walker—sounds channeled and pissed to no end. You can hear it in the guitars that sound like they’re heating the gold to pour over Viserys Targaryen’s head. Everything here chokes and inflames, feeling like they are pouring every ounce of their frustration and fury in these smothering six tracks.   

“Void Drinker” rushes in, howls piercing, the playing blistering and melting bone. Sludge collects and chokes, the soloing burning through a doomy fury, wrecking as the drums do further damage. Shrieks rip as the pace swaggers, psyche heat amplifying the damage.  “Lascaux” is beastly, growls tearing at muscle, the riffs smoking before unhinged shrieks peel flesh. The pace takes a filthier turn, the intensity sparking as the wrecking machine swings into high gear, the bass flexing as the playing pulls everything into a noise pit. “A Seeping Infinitude” scrapes, mystical sounds enrapturing, harsh calls clouding your brain, a sudden hypnosis going into full effect. Guitars warp as the pace feels tortured, speeding as the energy stirs hard, wild leads circling and leaving ash.

“Beneath the Soil” vibrates, the tempo slowly battering, wails striking as the band chugs hard, chewing cinders. Screams retch as the pace combusts, guitars wrench as the torment gets thicker, a strange fury permeating before a final gust melts and fades into exhaust. “Lafayette” is a quick bruiser, guitars staggering as a mauling power hits low, the leads scorching as the roars punish. Noise spits and torments, humid leads poison the air, the howls strangling what’s left. Closer “Deluge” opens with rain falling, psychedelic fumes entering, hypnosis mixing with gentler strains. The path gets tougher and meaner, emotional leads gushing blood, a thick grime making the footing volatile. Heat builds as screams bubble, and the band lays waste once more before heading into a black hole.

Ghorot manage to ramp up the doom sludge torment even further on “Obsidian,” a record that sounds out of control at times, but always in a way where they know exactly how to direct their fire. This is their most volcanic, agitated record of their three, and this is music that makes you concerned for your own safety if you’re in the same room with these sounds. This will shred you mentally and physically, making it feel like you were in all-out hand-to-hand combat when it finally relents.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://laybarerecordings.com/release/obsidian-by-ghorot-lbr071

Or here: https://ghorot.bandcamp.com/album/obsidian

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

I’m suddenly finding death metal legends Immolation absolutely infuriating and frustrating. Most of them are older than I am, and to hear them still making art as good as their latest album “Descent” makes me insane. I think the only thing I do better in my advanced age is take naps. Pretty great at that.

Their twelfth album since their formation in 1988 is a crusher, another entry into a masterful catalog that sounds as sinister as ever. First listen, I loved it, but it also just might be because I like Immolation. But every listen after got even better, and there might be no end in sight for this band—vocalist/bassist Ross Dolan, guitarists Robert Vigna and Alex Bouks, drummer Steve Shalaty. Normally, the bad aims its ire toward Catholicism and its many documented scourges throughout the years. But on “Descent,” they view where we are as a possible hell, watching humankind burn itself to the ground, maybe forever.

“These Vengeful Winds” starts ominously with clean guitars, and then the riffs cut in with precision, harsh growls pummeling, chillingly evil melodies striking. The playing then just flat out smokes, the lead exploring, howls choking, spacious sounds encircling. “The Ephemeral Curse” opens with the drums wrecking and the playing smothering, Dolan’s growls tightening, the guitars spindling into explosive heat. The soloing ignites, the pace bustling as guitars race, ominous clouds thickening. “God’s Last Breath” clashes, fiery gusts driving, growls curdling as the tempo does a slow burn. The energy then trucks harder, ferocity ravaging as the fires spread rapidly, growls dusting as everything ends as crushingly as possible. “Adversary” explodes, spitting hammers, the pace destroying, the guitars sounding like sirens calling over a battle. Leads swim through bloody waters as channeled fury blisters, melodies snarling, corrosion eating through bone. “Attrition” has guitars bending and sooty growls, the leads churning and send back heat. The drums gut as the soloing soars, the tempo gushing and fading into a thick smoke blanket.

“Bend Towards the Dark” ignites, brutal growls laying waste, the leads twisting and snarling, the soloing bubbling and spilling overboard. Growls boil as the humidity thickens, a brief calm is pierced by drubbing growls, and the playing combusts, leaving behind shrapnel. “Host” has the drums exploding, growls engorging, the guitars hanging overhead before a trudging force touches down. The playing gets hazy and sinewy, growls smoking as the leads explore, sharp shrieks sinking in the blade. “False Ascent” ravages, the drums totally destroying, mauling growls turning things beastly. The leads soar as the burly underbelly shows infection, the attack totally obliterating and stabbing toward a trucking finish. “Banished” is an eerie, mystical instrumental, one that emerges from the shadows with clean guitars and moody strings. Electric leads slice from the shadows, slipping into oblivion. The title track closes, savagery plastering at every turn, a controlled pace taking its time delivering punishment. Leads erupt as the intensity spikes, Dolan howling, “We’ve reached the point of no return,” a soberingly accurate statement followed by mashing playing, foggy leads, and an all-consuming blaze at the end.

It’s infuriating Immolation still are making records as good as “Descent.” How fucking dare they? It’s evident from the beginning of this record how fucking on they are, and the savagery feels more sudden and violent than usual. Their disgust with the path humanity is on is easy understand, and the vitriol they deliver should be bottled so that people who have trailed off can wake up and care again.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.nuclearblast.com/collections/immolation

The past can be something that holds onto us and refuses to release its grip, especially if we have things we did as younger versions that haunt us, or at least bother us, today. For example, I hated my 20s, and I am not thrilled about who I was and what I did. I wasn’t introspective enough, I paid attention to the wrong things. I wouldn’t hang with that guy.

Luckily, the time since has changed a lot of my perspectives, and I can make amends with those years because they helped me change and become a different person. On their thunderous debut record “Asymmetries,” Void of Light examine similar territories, being able to bridge different versions of yourself into what you have become. The band—vocalist   Ali Lauder, guitarists Nick Collins, Simon Mather, and Marc Carey (who also contributes vocals), bassist Dan Irving, drummer Stephen Wilkinson—uses their atmospheric doom to blister with volume and drama as they tie together emotional eras.

“The Passing Hours” opens gently, even dreamy, and then the jolts happen, melodies swarming, the energy charring the edges. Guitars soar as the howls snarl, the playing cutting and gushing, light rushing to the surface. Gruff singing rumbles as the guitars lap, flying and lashing, howls hammering as everything fades into smoke. “Silver Mask” charges and mashes from the start, roars mixing with singing, activity punching as the melodies loops into time. Atmosphere levels and smothers, moodiness thickening as throaty howls hammer, cleaner singing entering to add some relief, all the elements pulling, spiriting into distant folds of outer space.

“Ends” drops the hammer, howls cutting as the playing goes faster, pummeling as clean calls rain down. A fiery pace launches, guitars swelling before the pace pulls back, singing swells, and a brief lull calms. Then, a black metal-style assault destroys, the speed toppling as guitars encircle, driving everything into the dark. “Still the Night Skies” has the bass driving and leads burning, the singing luring you into the center where you’re met by a psyche dream. Lauder’s vocals are almost like David Gilmour’s here, guitars firing on all cylinders as the pressure grows heavier. Screams and roars buckle as echoey, lonesome guitars cry, giving off a Western vibe, gazey fire leaving ash. Closer “Mirrorings” is sludgy, wails bruising, howls smashing as rubbery guitars flex, a gazey stream gushing. The tempo launches as Lauder’s singing bellows, other voices swirling into the mix, the playing turning calm. Guitars flow and entrance, notes chiming as the energy blasts back, howls smearing as the last passages spiral into the distance.

Void of Light make an impressive first impression on “Asymmetries,” a more than worthy entry into the atmospheric sludge doom universe. The band delivers on emotion, power, and precision, always adding different elements into the chaos to keep things interesting. Plus, it’s a quaking look within, with our own history interwoven and giving us a glimpse into ways that can make us stronger.  

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

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

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

The epitome of misery, which feels like a daily visitor, isn’t always easy to get across when making music. Dour and doomy fury can be meted out with devastating (and quality) results without the true essence of the shadows sinking in. But you know when you hear something that digs beneath your ribcage.

Canadian duo Funelore (vocalist/bassist A.E., guitarist, synth player, drum programmer M.B.) mine the bottom of the barrel of misery and lather that over creaky horrors on “The Dissolution of Consciousness.” This, their first EP and release at all, feels like a horror-filled storm that aligns with the wretchedness inside our hearts and minds. It makes it a little easier to digest knowing these sounds can see the same madness as you.

“Tides in Agony” opens with waves crashing, keys opening, and a mauling pace taking over, the grounds swelling with power. The playing is murky and heavy, melodies tingling as the growls curdle, mystical winds melding with might. Calm pushes in as the keys drip, adding a gothic feel, and the playing lurches, the growls bubbling into a thick mist. The title track closes, entering a penetrating fog, guitars icing with a deep freeze, howls scraping at the earth. Slow, eerie playing clouds your brain, the playing smolders, and the guitars engulf, trudging harder as light beams cut to the surface. Colder guitars spread, dizzying as it sweeps up everything in front of it, melodies melting as the darkness takes over and pulls you entirely into the void.

Funelore’s “The Dissolution of Consciousness” is a foreboding, churning experience, an introduction into a sweltering world of doom that grows more populated by the second. They prove to have the tools and the misery to make a difference, and even though it’s two songs, they are mammoths with a lot of promise. This is a punishing, destructive first blast, and wherever they go from here is bound to be morbid.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/funelore-dissolution-of-consciousness-12/

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

Fuck, sorry for always talking about this, but we are where we are, you know? It’s a shit era, a horrifying timeline, the most frustrating and infuriating time to be alive, and what outlet do we really have to release all of that tension? Hey, I have a blog where most of my intros are about how awful it is to be alive right now, so I guess it helps.

California-based crushers Mordeo say on their Bandcamp that they’re here to “present the ugliness of the present moment” by turning their anger into a force of artistic destruction and a communal experience among creators. The band—vocalist/noise maker Brandon, guitarists Colby and Bryan, bassist Jake, drummer Dave—delivers a self-titled debut record that feels like a mammoth stomping across the land. It’s sludgy, fiery, and quaking, as the eight tracks and 42 minutes of chaos tear through with a reckless abandon, trying to help us forget where we are with maximum, devastating power.

“Bring Back the Fear” is a barnstorming open, burying with a heavy stoner vibe, pouring lava over mountains. Shrieks rip as the playing barrels at you like a train, simmering and mashing, guitars flowing into 9:22-long “Fight Your Friends,” as good a song title as you’re bound to find this year. It mauls, blinding wails hammering, drums slamming into your skull, then turning spacey before … Western?! Yeah. The leads intensify the vibes from there, fast and relentless attacks dizzying, beastly growls flattening, the echo flowing directly into “The Narcissist.” Noise spreads like wildfire, blistering as the howls crush, blowing and digging into the earth. Shrieks clobber as the terrain gets muddier, frying as sounds gurgle and fade into the shadows. “No More Chances” has guitars burning, grisly growls, and a slow-driving tempo that still feels forceful as hell. Then the track opens and explodes, the vocals menacing, the tempo piledriving, mud caking as anguished sentiment and metallic strangulation wrestle.

“Interlude” provides a breather, noise glowing as grains of sand scrape on glass, bleeding into oblivion. “Betrayal” burns in place, teasing a full detonation before delivering one. Yells and shrieks take turn peeling away strips of your psyche while the ferocious pace keeps picking up steam. Scream boil as the intensity crests, moving into “Coward” where the bass openly clobbers. The playing rips, pressure building slowly before exploding at its center point. Howls smear over thick humidity, the blows raining down unmercifully, finally giving way to piercing interference. Closer “Profit for Prophets (Swamp Justice)” starts with guitars slinking, the power pummeling, and screams bursting into the night. The rampage strikes with ferocity as the guitars scald, leaving your flesh exposed and stinging as acoustics wash in and spread the proverbial salve.

Mordeo’s self-titled debut is a motherfucker of an album, a brawler that breaks through the door, swinging wildly before considering who’s standing in the way. This sludgy beast lets you have a breather between protracted beatings, but it’s only to let you feel how sore your chest and lungs are when gasping. That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much.

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

To buy the album go here: https://hypaethralrecords.bandcamp.com/album/mordeo

Or here: https://foreverneverends.bigcartel.com/product/mordeo-lp-pre-order

Or here: https://shoverec.bandcamp.com/album/s-t-16

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

And here: https://foreverneverendsrecords.bandcamp.com/

And here: https://shoverec.bandcamp.com/

Staying put is an easy decision to make, and someone like me who relies heavily, almost desperately, on routine, making a big change can feel like anaphylactic shock (a sensation I have felt before). But most people aren’t Stephen O’Malley and Greg Anderson, who have done anything but stay within the lines and always have pushed expectations.

That applies both musically and collaboratively for Sunn O))), as they’ve been known to invite all sorts of guests from Ulver to Boris to Scott Walker into their fold to create music. But on their self-titled 10^th record, they did something radical even for them: releasing this album on legendary Sub Pop instead of their own Southern Lord imprint. They also decided to create music solely as a duo for this record (mirroring their two-track single released last year on Sub Pop), and the result is six tracks and nearly 80 minutes of doom/drone labyrinth that invites you into the strangest folds of their creativity. Yes, the work here is a little more traditional Sunn O))) than even “Life Metal” or “Pyroclasts,” their last two full-lengths, digging back into their earlier days. But they have some interesting new wrinkles and impulses that remind you that as much as their core hasn’t changed, what influences it and turns it into sound has. It’s immersive and may take a bit to stick, but it will.

Mammoth 18:21-long “XXANN” opens with the trademark drone snarl, swelling as all elements rumble, noise spits, and burly fumes choke relentlessly. The playing pierces as the guitars align, sweltering as smoke rises, soaring over top of the din as the pressure buzzes. Guitars fatten as the noise cuts, staggering as vibrations snake through the earth. “Does Anyone Hear Like Venom?” murmurs, the pace building slowly, guitars jarring and smoldering and numbing, squeezing your temples. Everything angles into blackness, stinging as the guitars angle, emitting impenetrable fumes, volume screaming before disappearing into the mist. “Butch’s Guns” chars, halts, floods, pulls back again, and then the drone waves begin to lap, darkness wafting as the fumes rise from a tire fire, the playing actually glowing through the murk. Noise builds as your eardrums shake, the power landing harder, bubbling beneath the surface.

“Mindrolling” is the second-longest track at 18:12, water trickling, simmering, the notes sneering, a laser-like force cutting through the madness. The sounds crumble as a jet-engine feel hovers, melting over your mind as feedback whirs, licking the electricity flow. The energy rises and falls, crumbling and knifing through the earth’s crust, scalding as waters return for relief. “Everett Moses” has notes bending, trembling, and quivering, doom lapping and feeling like melted iron poured over your head. A leak of black oil babbles as the pace chugs, crushing as hard as anywhere else on this record, ending in noise panic. Closer “Glory Black” has notes shifting, a hint of a melody you can catch, the slightest pinpoint of hope shining through. Drone scrapes and fades, a singular piano key echoing and signaling change. From there, the temperatures cool, piano drips ice pellets, and the ambiance feels like something out of a dream. The distortion slowly mounts a comeback, clawing to the surface, the guitars unleashing sunbeams, ringing out into oblivion and finally settling several planets away.

For their first full-length release for Sub Pop, this is pretty much the quintessential Sunn O))) experience, a total sonic bath of doom drone that might make smoke come out of your ears. With just O’Malley and Anderson here and no other players, this is as boiled down as you’re going to find, with some cool sonic dashes and bends thrown in to keep you guessing. This band epitomizes the “not for everyone” line of thinking, but for those who are down and especially the ones who have been, this is another excursion into the pitch black, with volume your mightiest ally.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://megamart.subpop.com/products/sunn-o_sunn-o

Or here (Europe): https://europe.subpop.com/release/564613-sunn-o-sunn-o

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

It’s strange how companies make stands and then lose their nerve when an oppressive regime makes them turn back on what obviously were decisions they made for disingenuous reasons. Fucking capitalism, man. People with no knowledge of other systems serve the boot, and only a certain type of people are allowed to get by.

Finnish crushers Unearthly Rites have been standing up against abusive power structures (which definitely sounds redundant) and the victims they leave behind. On their thunderous second record “Tortural Symphony of the Flesh,” the band—vocalist Sisli, guitarists Simo and Santtu, bassist Jennika, drummer Tapio—again takes aim at tyranny, vowing to protect the various minority groups that always end up in the gears. They do so with a punishing mix of death, crust, hardcore, and doom, delivering 10 blasts back at a system that never cared about us and doesn’t deserve our empathy.

“Tuonen tulijat, manan menijät” opens and immediately goes burly, Sisli’s howls crushing wills, sweltering and stirring in infernal heat. Guitars swell as the pace kicks harder, trudging as gargantuan fury combusts. “Sokli Fields Forever / A Radiative Picnic” starts with wails gurgling, stomping with a tortured pace, the energy going off as the leads ignite. The attack smothers, guitars choking with exhaust, the vocals letting loose as everything fades in strange noise. “Solstice” destroys as the bass wraps like cords around your limbs, growls spattering soot, the riffs spiraling as clouds thicken. The band then thrashes harder, the guitars staggering and hypnotizing before sprawling away. “A Stygian Winterscape” is an icy terrain, a warped interlude that crawls into your psyche. The title track batters, the leads boiling, the lurching pace tightening its grip as doomy waters begin to flow. The clubbing continues with animalistic wails and a bruising assault that knocks you to the pavement.

“Ignis fatuus” is the longest track at 7:20, the guitars staggering as the heat increases, the ground rumbles, and shrieks burn, the intensity turned up all the way. The atmosphere feels feral and mucky, psyche thunder echoing, destroying as the guitars dizzy. The tempo boils as guitars bend into madness, drilling into the ground. “Metalli, liha, kone” crushes, the vocals hissing, hellish torment meted out in generous portions. Again, doom enters into the mix, blackening skies, testing muscle and putting those in their way to the test. “Absurd Transgression” is trucking, sinewy guitars working with brass-knuckled fists, the chorus smoking as screams mash. The pace goes back and forth, the guitars lighting up, blistering with violent intent. “Not for the Weak” is a final interlude, strings scraping as whispers stir, setting the stage for closer “The Notion of Emerging Totalitarianism” that enters with explosive might and screams tangling. The pace chars as the guitars mount their offensive, sending tornadic waves and adding tons of sludge. The playing continues unloading, Sisli’s vocals punch through chest cavities, and the pressure increases before slowly fading.

“Tortural Symphony of the Flesh” is a record that echoes its time and attempts to lay waste to an oppressive ruling class that is trying to strangle freedom from the world. Unearthly Rites have been warriors against capitalist society ever since they started, and as we’ve seen the bullshit rise, the band meets it with a renewed vitriol. This is metallic defiance that offers some solace and solutions for those who are suffering through this hellscape, and we could use anything tangible like this right now.

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

To buy the album go here: https://www.svartrecords.com/en/product/unearthly-rites-tortural-symphony-of-the-flesh/14138

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

Heavy metal always has been a form of escapism, both with its glorious sound and tendency to delve in the fantastical. No other form of music is this well-equipped to tell huge stories through music, whether it’s ancient poetic epics, sword-clashing legends involving dragons, or takes about a great metallic liberator soaring through the skies.

Ever since their inception, Eternal Champion have created classic-style metal that sounds huge and tells tales that go beyond our world. The band—vocalist Jason Tarpey, guitarist John Powers, guitarist/bassist/synth player Arthur Rizk, drummer/synth player Connor Doneghan—returns with a new two-song EP “Friend of War,” a collection inspired by Karl Edward Wagner’s character Kane, whose battle-tested adventures and challenging character arc have dotted novels (this EP is based on Dark Crusade) and short stories.  Here you get two much larger tracks than we expect from the band—one that is classic Eternal Champion and an instrumental that suggests more is going on than suspected.  

The title track is the 13:09-long opener, the dramatic start feeling like credits crawling over the beginning scene, guitars trickling before the gates are kicked down. Tarpey’s singing swells, “Once more I’ve thrown my soul, this evil I sought, in secret fanes and dark crusades, I’ll fight them all.” Howls dig as the leads go off, the repeated cries of, “Dark crusade,” spilling into classic acoustic washes, giving off a sense of elegance. Guitars flow again as the soloing soars, the drumming pounding away before a new sense of fantasy opens and chills. The playing feels like a hallucination after taking serious damage, organs glazing, Tarpey howling, “I am the friend of war,” the melodies fading into time. “YSLSL” follows, a fever-dream instrumental that rumbles, a passage about Kane recited as sound swells in your ears. The whole thing feels like the score to a violent epic, beats pulsing, iron clanging, harps chiming, giving off noxious fumes. A spacey ambiance lands, sounds vibrating and swelling, keys murmuring, speaking echoing off into the distance.

Eternal Champion’s commitment to Kane’s tale and their epic brand of heavy metal sounds great in longer form, and whether or not this is just an experiment, it’s an exciting leap forward for the band. Plus, the instrumental piece adds nuance and mystery to what the band already does so well. This is a nice appetizer (granted a hefty one) before their next album, and every moment makes your blood pulse.

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

To buy the album go here: https://eternalchampion.bandcamp.com/album/friend-of-war

The words “legend” and “legendary” get thrown around way too much. I just saw an ad on NFL Network that referred to Victor Cruz as legendary. A legendary catch? Most definitely. But otherwise he was a decent receiver who had a knack for big plays during big games who had one big moment. Didn’t mean to torch Victor Cruz like that.

 Maybe you’d say the same about long-running death/thrash power Intoxicated as I did about Cruz, but I’d say you’d be wrong. This band dates back to when the late Chuck Schuldiner produced their demo “Drain” and that led to their 1997 debut album “Metalneck.” The band then took a long break when vocalist/guitarist Erik Payne joined Andrew WK’s band (along with Obituary drummer Donald Tardy), then returned with 2022’s “Watch You Burn,” a destructive, blood-gushing destroyer that ripped this band back into people’s minds. Now they respond with “The Dome,” a 10-track crusher that blasts by in just under 30 minutes. Along with guitarist John Sutton, bassist/vocalist Shawn Clarson, and drummer Colin Vaccaro, this revamped lineup ravages, injecting energy, power, and grisly fury into an album that should further solidify their standing.

“Carved in Stone” tears open, completely ravaging in no time, the vocals muscling their way through the chaos. The leads heat up before the pace turns beastly, beating you into the ground. “Sever the Strings” has riffs twisting and the yells wrenching, battling through with a rowdy tempo. Riffs swelter before the soloing takes off, bubbling and sticking to skin. The title track is punchy and sweltering, gruff growls leaving bruising as the guitars blaze and then visit the stars. The pace shifts and the leads slice, smashing with relentless power. “War Club” has strong riffs engulfing, a punishing pace dislodging rocks, the vocals crushing wills to survive. The playing then decimates, turning every element up to its highest level, aiming to take off your head. “Tighten Your Eyes” is grimy and doomy, the vocals snarling as the guitars swing, the tempo slowing but still killing. The direction toys with your mind and drives harder to the edge, the guitars stretching before melting.

“Unescaped” tramples, the thrashiness pressing harder, the vocals snarling as everything trails into the muck. The drums ignite as balmy leads extend their arms, a crunchy path breaking through the center, ending in lava pools. “It’s Dead” churns, throwing haymakers, the guitars bubbling before turning hazy. “Everything you know will be dead,” Payne wails as the heat smears sweat, the final moments absolutely unloading. “Shifted Cross” is fast as hell, riffs angling, the vocals sounding even more acidic. The ground quakes as the soloing comes to life, jarring with shock before ending abruptly. “Rake the Grate” is speedy and urgent, the guitars dashing around corners, spitting dangerous pockets of lightning. Melodies erupt as the energy ripples, driving you chest first into the ground. Closer “Drowning the Weak” is tornadic and mashing, giving a little bit of hardcore muscle. “Burn it down! To the ground!” is gang shouted, the playing pulverizes, exploding with manic storming that drives the final nails.

With nearly four decades under their belts, Intoxicated still bring it and prove that over and over on “The Dome.” Their death-infested thrash still feels like an iron fist to your chest, and the band delivers a fun record that still manages to release a wealth of frustrations. This is a monster that barely asks 30 minutes of your time and brings an assault that you’ll still be feeling days later.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: 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/

Having somehow existed on this planet for half a century, it’s weird to think my fullest and best self is the one living right now. You have a chance to learn from your past and find what inside of you really makes you go. You give less of a fuck what other people think. You’re the only person who can actually hurt you. It’s pretty great, actually.

Reading about how “Morning Star,” the latest and third record from black metal adventurers Këkht Aräkh, made me think about this and this effort is said to be their creation closest to the preferred form. Sole creator Dmitry (known here as Crying Orc) said the on this record, “I feel more like myself than ever before,” and you can hear it in these 17 songs and 50 minutes that play out like an ancient tale you’re reading. Crying Orc is joined by myriad guests here to realize the vision which still is thorny, and metallic, and lo-fi but also infuses more folk tendencies into the sound. Oh, and 17 songs might seem like a lot, but the record flows really well, just kind of flying past you.

“Wänderer” starts with guitars melting into time, howls erupting, melodies rushing over raw, unpolished grounds. The electricity has a dreamier edge, the leads welling, cleaner notes dripping over your brain. “Castle” opens in whispers before gutting cries erupt, guitars charging as rich leads take control. The tone is both grisly and infectious, Crying Orc wailing, “I stay in my castle!” as the temperatures drop, leaving you shivering. “Lament” fires up, the vocals clawing into flesh, the playing buzzing before darkening. Folkish singing spreads, guitars gashing, slowly fading away. “Genom sorgen” features VS—55, acoustics fluttering, rustic singing adding spark to this rustic folk piece. Sounds smear as accordions echo, ghosts fleeing the room. “Angest” fires up, ravaging with force, growls calls cloud as hypnotic vibrations ripple your spine, guitars fading in a hush. “Mörker över mörker” tears in, black metal waves crushing, glorious leads knifing through the smoke. Howls crackle as mystical forces steamroll, blowing right into “Three winters away” that continues to amplify the fury. Howls retch as clean calls unfurl, guitars catching speed. Fire blasts, spitting nails, anguish squeezed from swollen hearts. “Drömsång” is softer, clean singing wafting, sometimes harmonizing, the dreaminess floating into your mind, easing into the void. “Raven king” returns to folkish terrain, the song then kicking in and destroying with power. The vocals ice your psyche as ashen black metal returns, solemn melodies darkening.

“Vigil” shifts, Crying Ork calling, “I let the night die,” tornadic fire breathing heavily. Howls bristle as the singing lures, acoustics sweeping away. “Eternal martyr” features Bladee offering vocals, a devastating pace exploding into the sky. Whispers fall as guitars fire up, the vocals jolting with emotion, higher lines making your psyche sting. “Trollsång” has Spöke as a guest, keys dripping as flutes take to the air, the singing tapping into your subconscious, blending into the atmosphere. “Land av evig natt l” enters with daring acoustics, singing layering through a woodsy, dew-splashed wilderness, vocals blending into each other. “Land av evig natt ll” is the bloodier half, guitars firing as the vocals maul, the pace stirring so hard, it feels like you’re locked in vertigo. Howls buzz as the drums mash, acoustics joining the fray, clean calls ringing as the colors blur wildly. “Gates” attacks and bustles, guitars sending icy tributaries, the heat suddenly rising. The thorniness wraps around bone as guitars dash, speak-singing drives, as the final moments of calm encircle your mind. The title track is almost a ballad, clean and solemn, accordion echoing, atmospheric darkness draining. Strings glide, and the melody gives more of an early aughts indie vibe, flushing your heart with tenderness. Closing “Outro” features Varg2™, spacey waves causing your energies to fade, the cosmic energy cresting.

This record, as seemingly overstuffed as it may appear when just looking at the track listing, moves nicely, with “Morning Star” flowing by and filling your mind with chaos and wonder. Këkht Aräkh have provoked and enraptured listeners ever since the project’s start, and if this is the band coming closer to its real form, then we are in some exciting times. This is an album that weirdly can be a companion for days outside, personal reflection, and still allowing sections of darkness into the room.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.sacredbonesrecords.com/products/sbr-377-kekht-arakh-morning-star

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