Whether or not you believe in the concept of a devil, you can’t deny there is evil, unease, and diabolical intent in so many of the things that surround us. Be that the government, grifters, liars, cheats, what have you, you always have to peel back the layers to find the true underpinnings. But that doesn’t mean there also can’t be pleasure in the darkness.

“The Devil and All His Works” is the new record from long-running UK doom outfit Witchsorrow, and if you’ve been along for the ride since their inception or at some point along the way, you’ll find a lot with which to identify on these seven tracks and 48 minutes. The album title is inspired by the Dennis Wheatley’s 1971 book of the same name, and the band—vocalist/guitarist Nick “Necroskull” Ruskell, bassist Emily “Witch” Ruskell, drummer Scott Taylor (David Wilbraham played drums on the album)—delves into deep, smoking doom metal that feels foreboding and dangerous but also revels in heathenism and decadence, showing two signs of the coin of darkness.

“Omnia Finiuntur” opens, an 11:30-long opus that dawns with doom bells chiming, organs swelling, and the charred playing adding pressure, Necroskull’s vocals flexing and smearing. The aura immediately is sinister, buzzing and twisting, driving even harder as the playing toys with your psych as the heaviness and smoke coverage expand. Fuzz accumulates as organs spill, and the doom mass peaks, the fog subsiding as keys usher us away. “Bacchus” has guitars sweltering and a burly heat, the singing darkening as the playing pummels, the soloing heating up and testing wills. The humidity spikes as the singing echoes, visions swimming in your head, guitars scorching madly. “Hades Chains” punches in, spewing ash, blistering as washed-out vocals give off a dreamy effect. Howls then mangle as the punishment scathes, Serena Cherry (Svalbard/Noctule) adds thorns via her fiery screams, the muck chugging through mud, thrashing as the vocals strangle, and the fires finally go out.

“Altar” brings darkness as the ball coils, the playing waylays, and the singing hypnotizes, echoes rippling through the clouds. Gloom and heaviness collide as the guitars add muscle, Nick’s wails sending coarse waves. The soloing catches fire and swelters, making you sweat out all your toxins. “In Triumph We Rot!!!” is thrashy and direct, coming at you with blades windmilling, Necroskull wailing, “Rise from the grave, forever doomed!” Bells echo as the soloing floods your senses, landing heavy blows, the electricity darting through your bloodstream. “Lamentation” is a quick interlude, doom slithering over, guitars jarring with filth, a Hamlet quote playing that ends with, “And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” That leads to closer … “A Quintessence of Dust.” Slow-driving power bruises as the singing lashes, the playing eating away at you, drubbing as the pace catches fire. “Bring out your dead!” Necroskull howls, the soloing exploding with lava, the playing getting fiery and faster, slipping back into pace, the doom bells that greeted us leading us to the grave.

“The Devil and All His Works” is pretty quintessential Witchsorrow, and if you’ve been on their journey alongside them, the surroundings will be familiar, if a little more charred around the edges. Their yarns about the devil and his intertwining into every aspect of life is both a celebration of heathen behavior and a cautionary tale served with white-hot doom that aims to draw blood. This is another strong building block on Witchsorrow’s wicked foundation that they treat with chaos and soot.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://deathwishinc.com/collections/church-road/products/witchsorrow-the-devil-and-all-his-works

Or here (Europe): https://churchroadrecords.com/collections/church-road-releases/products/witchsorrow-the-devil-and-all-his-works-pre-order

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

While metal and heavy music both have gone through major changes and advancements over the decades, emotional nakedness only has a constant home when it comes to anger, frustration, and death. Bands and artists that aren’t afraid to tell you how they feel and how that tests their will aren’t plentiful enough, and for that, thankfully we have Warning.

Having disappeared after 2006’s “Watching From a Distance” and a 2010 EP, the band returns here with “Rituals of Shame,” a title that basically acts as a summary for this band’s and vocalist/guitarist Patrick Walker’s life work. In fact, a lot of this new 5-track, 45-minute record shines deeply from the 40 Watt Sun oeuvre with slower tracks and Walker’s voice drizzling over with lyrics centered on a particularly tough stretch of life. Pain, guilt, doubt, sorrow, and love and in abundance, and that ability to show that unabashedly should inspire others to do the same. Walker, joined by longtime members Wayne Taylor (guitar) and Marcus Hatfield (bass), as well as Andrew Prestidge (drums, also from 40 Watt Sun), never shies away from his wounds and presents them here in as transparent a manner as possible, with the band providing the proper black drapery. It’s moving and unforgettable.

The title track opens, a 12:49-long epic that is the longest track here, unleashing the band’s trademark sorrow with rich singing from Walker, who always finds a way to jab under your ribs into your heart. Leads sweep as the pace continues its gradual pathway, slithering as Walker calls, ” I must watch in petrified silence, and I can’t close my eyes to it,” the playing burning and smoking. Guitars lull you into spacious melodies, pure emotion chilling your guts, the final lines tracking into darkness, blurring into mystery. “Stations” has guitars churning and the singing coasting, Walker lamenting, ” Holding on, cradled to the bruise-black sky, swollen with the secrets of a living lie, pour me out like silver in a common world.” Easy to create that broken photo in your mind. Darkness laps as the singing glides, Walker leveling, “It’s just another vast, aching hunger; an emptiness of another kind.” The playing wrenches as the blood drips slowly, hanging in the air as doom waves lap, crushing as colors mar, sadness flowing like an everlasting tributary into oblivion.

“Night Comes Down” enters amid gushing guitars and energy sweltering, Walker wondering, “You learn to live with it, but how did ever I believe it so long as the whole and total expression of love?” Drums tease as the high hat grazes, folding in further melodies and faint light ripples, pummeling psyches, ashen leads dragging trails across the ground. “Landing Lights” is the shortest song at 6:28, drums spitting gravel, the singing clouding as Walker sings, “But I never gave that light away, I hold it to my heart, it’s always there, but how would you know, when I’ve been away so long?” That’s a crusher of a sequence. Guitars fire up and get muddier, the pace later numbing, dripping gently into a pool of glimmering doom. Closer “Teacher” gushes in, Walker taking reins and leveling with, “I will not be unafraid; time will turn to me.” The leads inject grays and blues, continuing to pull back the tempo as everything sinks into your bloodstream. The playing goes cold and teases fading before the guitars carve an icy pathway, the singing bursts anew, and the heat leaves lightly scorched flesh, Walker ending with, “But I can’t see beyond you, and I can’t count to the ways I love you.”

“Rituals of Shame” has as much Warning DNA as it has strains from 40 Watt Sun, and it makes for a gentler, darker, and even more emotionally vulnerable record that will take multiple visits to fully digest. Walker never has hidden his bloody heart nor his pain, and the band stretches out these confessions and devotions with a steady hand and a doom power that makes a home for dealing with your own woes. It’s great to have this band back, as many of us could use an outlet to unleash what’s been burdening us for so long.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/pages/warning-rituals-of-shame

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

Every time someone waves off the horrific state in which we find our nation, and seeing that spill out into other parts of the world, I wonder if they’re just an awful fuck who gets off on human suffering or if they have no interest in anything that goes on beyond their boundaries. People rising up here and elsewhere is heartwarming, but it’s only as start.

“Exegesis at the End of Time” is the fourth long-player from Make, who combine doom, sludge, noise rock, and several other dark elements to make their music as punishing as it is. They see the struggle, one that encompasses us all, and if we’re not prepared to resist power structures, we cannot survive. This is the fourth record for the band—guitarist/vocalist Scott Endres, bassist/guitarist/vocalist Spencer Lee, bassist/synth player/vocalist Aaron Smithers, drummer John Crouch—and their first as a four piece, and every moment on this album stretches you mentally. There are volcanic gusts, depressing doses of reality, and existential struggle baked into these six tracks, and the entire album agitates and motivates, reminding you darkness hovers.

“The End of the Night” is the longest track here, running 11:10 and quivering and tingling, guitars picking up, the bass leading, pathways traced before the detonation sends bodies flying. The fury melts as noises dashes, roars cave in buildings, and the brutality serves the scathing, acidic leads. Yells peel back eyelids as the bass flexes, the playing pummeling one more time before landing in clouds. “The Judge” is burly with howls punching, guitars storming, and the pace stomping out guts. Barks tear new wounds as muscular playing quakes the ground, meaty guitars land blows, and sounds spread, vibrating before expiring. “Forking Paths” glows, clean singing soothing, the bass humming in the darkness. The singing turns to shrieks and back again, whirry keys swimming among the stars, the playing lulling you into a false sense of safety. Screams ignite as the guitars burn even brighter, sweltering and crushing until a sudden end.

“Chimera” has a doomy burn, the yells scald, and the playing drives hard, the bass dropping cement blocks on your chest. Screams erupt and scorch flesh, the pressure builds along with the heaviness, and a blazing fury rockets everything into the sun. “The Spectacle” has a tricky, post-punk feel for the first stretch, guitars fogging as howls scar, the tempo smothering as guitars ooze a sticky glaze. The heat climbs as the guitars dizzy, staggering back out into the dark. Closer “The Augur” slithers in, melodies collecting, the bass stomping as monstrous shouts emerge. It feels like the room is spinning as heated playing surrounds, savagery tearing away as screams ripple. The pace stomps and shakes foundations, crushing and grinding boulders as if they are nothing.

“Exegesis at the End of Time” feels like your world falling apart, and for too many people, theirs just happens to be doing that right now. Make refuse to make a habit of hiding the vitriol or pain, and even when there’s a glimmer of hope, you know a gray cloud is a day away. This is a frustrated, agitated beast, a product of its times, and the perfect elixir for relief from the constant barrage of madness.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://accidentprone.com/product/exegesis-at-the-end-of-time-ap044/

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

Death metal long ago passed by the graveyards and swamps and went interstellar and psychological, yet that hasn’t fully sunken until the past decade or so when bands such as Tomb Mold and Blood Incantation stretched the boundaries further. They weren’t the only ones, obviously, just the most recently effective, and it’s helped broaden perspectives.

Costa Rican force Astriferous arrived three years ago with an ambitious debut “Pulsations From the Black Orb,” initially revealing their colors, and they double down on “Atavistic Unraveling,” their sophomore record that continues to reach past expectations. Over six tracks and 36 minutes, the band—guitarist/vocalist Federico Gutiérrez, guitarist/vocalist Felipe Tencio, bassist/vocalist José Pablo Phillips, drummer José María Arrea—economically spreads their fury and imagination yet still manages to maintain a vicious, barbaric edge. It’s like a dream where you bleed out in space.

“Carriers of the Curse” bursts with guitars chugging, a sooty fury spreading its reach, howls clawing as the temperatures scorch. Hellish chaos destroys, shrieks frying as synth beams crash through clouds, bristling as smoke spreads, reaching into “The Floating Catacombs” that mauls right away. Howls combust as the playing dusts, the synth cooling the waters, guitars snaking into a fast, dizzying thrust. Soloing stretches as the humidity climbs, the drums mash, and the guitars collect into a hellish storm cloud. “Dissolution of Eternity” mangles and strangles, the growls engorging and blinding, the playing unloading layers of sludge. Guitars cloud as the band thrashes, growls lurching through devastation, fury racing, and the last gasps spitting exhaust.

“Proto Embryo (The Third Tribulation)” has a techy, blazing start, the power decimating as guitars strangle, the pace ignites, and the leads trample. The soloing stuns as the rhythmic pulses wrench, the growls punish, and the drumming powders skulls. “Arcane Demonomania” has the drums encircling, the speed blasting, rubbery leads grasping necks, ferocious howls exploding through walls. Guitars chew muscle as the growls lash against bone and muscle, churning to an end. “Mnemonic Phenomena” has the guitars hurtling into the cosmos, manic calls stirring psychosis, devastating as the guitars race around new angles. Drums pound as grinding hell opens around you, and then things turn into slower, doomier waters, darkening before spiraling away. Closer “Resonance Cascade” blares with synth beams, a deliberate pace shaking walls, drums kicking in as things gradually get faster. The pace shifts and wrecks, murk spreading through your bloodstream, howls retching as the gloom collects. Keys float above the chaos, guitars channel psychosis, and then everything burns into a dreamy, cosmic synth glow. 

“Atavistic Unraveling” swallows you whole with aggressive, yet immersive death metal that feels like it sweeps you into another dimension, or at least another world. This is battering, psychologically challenging fury, death that isn’t as interested in blood as it is in taking you on an adventure that will scar your psyche. There are a lot of bands doing similar things at the moment, and Astriferous are hellbent on making their trip a more violent one that leaves abrasions on your skin and mind.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/astriferous-atavistic-unraveling-lp/

O here: https://store.pulverised.net/

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

And here: https://www.pulverised.net/

Doing a site like this one, I get asked for recommendations of bands and or records to seek out. People hilariously think I know shit. Anyway, I usually can rattle a few off the top of my head of metal or heavy music I think might resonate with them. A few questions later, I can determine whether or not I want to freak them out.

French black metal confounders Non Serviam very likely would not be a name that comes out of my mouth, a strange thing to say about a band I’m about to praise. Calling them black metal isn’t even entirely right as they blend so many elements from other sub-genres, but it’s closest I can get. On their mind-shredding new record “La Lune Dont Mon Âme Est Pleine” (roughly translates to “The Moon That Fills My Soul”), the duo of Void and Moon gain inspiration from the tale of Diana and Actaeon, covering attraction, violence, and sorrow, the aftermath often too bloody to handle. As for this record, every track is its own beast, entirely different from what surrounds it, making each demon its own entity. It easily can terrify and send less delicate ears fleeing. The rest of us will be happy to indulge.

“La Lune dont mon âme est pleine – Part II” burns in, electro pulses frying brainwaves, howls gurgling as noise corrodes. Sound clips warp as howls spatter, the strangeness ending in acid. “Déesse morte” has a strange guitar wash and an almost chambery approach, the singing numbing as keys flutter and chime. The fog thickens as the swirling attack dizzies, calm gives may to mania, and an eruption leaves bodily gashes no salve can sooth. “Emile Henry” is about the French anarchist, and the track rains blades in a mechanical black metal storm, blistering as the hellish attack keeps growing more intense. Sounds infect and swirl as keys murmur, and the chaos spits nails again, choking and blazing as mental fry sets in deeply. “Victory To Kali” features vocals from M. Kawashima of the legendary Sigh, and it’s a battle with a monster, shrieks peeling paint off walls, mangling with crazed ferocity. The playing drives harder as the cries feel like they’re coming from a person in a boiling cauldron, a sense of calm injected suddenly.

“La Valse des enfants morts” enters amid cooling keys, and then the howls erupt, sending everything into a tizzy, mystical notes chilling, murderous screams taunting. Keys add an odd bit of humidity as clouds warp, everything slowing to a frigid end. “Everything About You” dawns, and instantly it’s vicious, clawing at eyes, the keys dancing in rain clouds, the guitars teasing before ratcheting up the tense vibes, making everything very uncomfortable, zapping into oblivion. “Actéon” opens with a clip from “Gen V,” specifically from Marie Moreau (“You’re fucked up … I’m fucked up …”) and it basks in haze as howls and whispers team up, your head feeling like it’s swimming in Vaseline. The vocals sicken as the guitars soar, ending in a buzzing flood. “Abject sacrifice” sinks into melting guitars, a female voice haunting, the weather worsening as screams erupt. The pace is blistering, voices spiraling as guitars trickle down your back, throbbing as the savagery peaks, slipping into a frosty sheath. Closer “La Lune dont mon âme est pleine – Part III” builds off the opener, chilling, a female voice soothing nerves, howls crumbling over top that, melodies obscured in filth. There is a stretch that is moody and gothy, the drums plaster as screams waylay, bleeding blackness and, all of a sudden, horns attack and instantly leave. The filth thickens as the torment mounts, dissolving into a dreamy void.

Non Serviam are tough to classify and just as difficult to feel comfort around, but that undoubtedly is the point. “La Lune Dont Mon Âme Est Pleine” covers the ideas of desire, violence, and its aftermath, and it makes for a pretty heavy statement on these times, which are eating away at us. This record and band are not for listeners who don’t desire a challenge. It’s not easy to digest, it confounds, and it poisons, with the band’s refusal to submit to any rigid standards only adding to the psychological wounds.   

For more on the band, go here: https://non-serviam.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://laybarerecordings.com/release/la-lune-dont-mon-ame-est-pleine-lbr074

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

It’s like a fucking hundred degrees outside in early June (OK, with humidity it feels like 95) and I’d be excited for any hint of arctic weather if only to be able to get my dog properly exercised. But we’re a long way away from that, so we’re going to have to take the mental route of imagining frosty tundra and snowstorms with no relent.

Icelandic black metal force Forsmán are going to get us about as close as we need with their ripping debut record “Brenndar Rústir & Fuðrandi Fjörur” (“Burnt Ruins and Blazing Shores,” roughly translated in English). It’s frosty and violent from beginning to end, giving very few chances to take a breath, and when you can, your lungs choke with campfire smoke. The band—bassist/vocalist V., guitarist H., guitarist/vocalist O., drummer M.—spills ferocity and emotion into these seven tracks and 40 minutes of torment. It’s an album that doesn’t fear sub-zero temps but also could thrive in the opposite environment, putting you to the test. By the way, while signed to German label Vesperian, Metal Blade will distribute their record worldwide, which is big boost for this promising young band.

“Drottinn Fyrirgefur Allt” opens in feedback before its destruction mars, storming as howls crush, guitars truck, and the general vibe releases a bloody snarl. The pressure builds as the playing gets monstrous, speeding as shrieks gut, boiling out into a fury. “Svartir Svanir” gushes as the vocals batter, the playing floods, and melodic waves crash as the swarming intensifies. Colors gush as battle horns cry, and spirited group calls get your adrenaline pumping all over again. “Andvan” is blinding, raw growls gnawing at bone, grisly melodies mounting an attack as the leads zap and sprawl. Emotions run high as the power devastates, the force cascading as the bass bends around corners, guitars ringing in your ears as everything fades. “Valdníðsla” thumps and thunders, howls scarring as the pace gets tougher, ravaging group calls taking off heads. Guitars tangle as the pace hulks ferociously, the leads spindling before fading in flames.

“Kynjamyndir” attacks with rousing drums, humid guitars, and the vocals menacing, the intensity engulfing into a mammoth force. The tempo combusts as the yells reach for the stars, a passionate burst sending rock and light rocketing, wrecking before ending suddenly. “Hræ Hins Almáttuga” rumbles, the playing pulling limbs from bodies, the vocals wrenching as the leads dive into a pit of fire. Roars dust as the guitars ramp up the pace dangerously, colors wash through progressive tones, and everything rides on a storm into closer “Barmafylltar Fjöldagrafir.” Guitars drive as the vocals slash, the temperatures blazing and jolting violently. Vocals strangle as dazzling leads send electricity down your spine, fluttering and flooding as your blood races. Growls curdle as every element gets noticeably more agitated, blasting as sounds scrape, everything ending cinematically.  

“Brenndar Rústir & Fuðrandi Fjörur” is an exciting, frosty, turbulent dose of black metal from Forsmán, a record that should reach more ears with Metal Blade behind it. They’re not reinventing the wheel or anything here, nor do they need to, but their passion and heart give them an edge over a lot of other bands playing a similar style. Listening to this feels like what it might if you were to see lava burst spontaneously from the earth’s crust where you’re likely to get burnt to a crisp, but it’s pretty exciting while it’s happening.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://linktr.ee/vesperian#549446188

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

And here: https://www.vesperian.world/

Summer is supposed to be the time when major blockbuster movies choke theaters to death, and the big blood-racing adventures rake in hundreds of millions of dollars. Stormkeep and their medieval dungeon black metal likely won’t draw millions of people to their shows, but they have enough energy packed into their music to explode worlds.

Their second full-length is “The Nocturnes of Iswylm,” another spectacular, violent, ice-packed crusher that visits the adventure world they’ve conjured on these seven tracks and 45 rousing minutes. The band members—vocalist/guitarist/drummer/keyboard player Otheyn Vermithrax, guitarist Apokteino, bassist Nebula Husk, keyboard player Lord Dahthar—hail from other noteworthy forces such as Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, but this is something entirely different. This is like these four musicians transformed into different characters, drawing upon something only they can summon.

“The Taste of Immortal Blood” dawns in synth beams before the pace tears open, shrieks marring as fantastical zaps make your blood race. The chorus is melodic and rousing, ravaging with pure electricity, creaky speaking jabbing, keys dancing over the bloody ground. The leads explode as the tempo turns more violent, the final moments gushing away. “The Black Dragons of Iswylm” crushes, mangling howls driving, keys blasting as the atmosphere grows balmy. Speed explodes and rips, the howls choking, the playing dashing to a finish. “Saccharine Subjugation” is delirious, the vocals smearing as the playing punishes, a force taking hold and aggravating the weather. Screams blister as clean calls bellow, moody guitars extend their reach, and the murk darkens, coming to a cloudy end.

“Imperious Sanguine Eroticism” basks in chilling synth, clean singing sweeping through, the gothy elements swelling, scratchy vocals bruising as sounds blur. Singing bellows as organs pump, guitars flutter, and an elegance glimmers in the sky, classical acoustics taking you home. “Echoes in the Vasts of Sequestration” is clean and surging at the start, the frostiness increasing as howls crackle and guitars hit the gas pedal. The terror and savagery multiply as the speed tangles, group chants rouse, and the vocals quake before zapping out. “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh” is thunderous, synth scorching, guitars racing as the punishment continues. Growls punish as the playing both fires up and freezes over, a cinematic burst glows, and the keys flush before fading. Closer “Ballad of a Fallen Star” runs 9:28, entering into the fog, the guitars igniting, a melodic storm frothing and spilling over. The excitement jolts and clean singing warps, the guitars layering with warmth, a calm arriving on the back of acoustics. Power soars again as the leads go off, the singing belts and flexes, and the synth elevates the drama, your senses flood a final time.

“The Nocturnes of Iswylm” provides plenty of adventures and a total blizzard of black metal, Stormkeep totally upping the ante from their full-length debut that was a force to behold. Whether or not you’re into the happenings of their fantasy world, you can’t avoid getting swept up by their thunderous energy that easily can capture you. This is a frigid crusher at the start of the hotter months, a strange time to land but perhaps a fitting one when the need for distraction increases every day.      

For more on the band, go here: https://stormkeep-odl.bandcamp.com/music

To buy the album, go here: https://linktr.ee/vesperian#548877761

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

And here: https://www.vesperian.world/

There are people who die on this earth and still walk among us. No, not zombies. They live and breathe and go about their day, but inside, they’re in a nightmare from which they can’t seem to wake, and the existence they once knew is over. There is no overcoming or finding strength or catharsis. It just feels like the past is extinguished.

Connecticut-based death metal force Fires in the Distance is more introspective than most of the bands that do what they do, and their third record “Circadian Promise” is further proof of this. On these six tracks and nearly 50 minutes, the band—vocalist/guitarist Brendan Hayter, guitarist Yegor Savonin, bassist/vocalist Craig Breitsprecher, drummer Jordan Rippe—explores the concept of existential death, taking on the misery and anguish of a life torn asunder. It’s also a manner of accepting aging and the inevitability of dying, embracing darkness and bleak realities and trying to accept that in order to be alive, both physically and spiritually.

“Of Radiance and Levitation” bathes in strings, the drums opening the fray, a melodic gush as howls mar the senses. Guitars burst and chug, elevating the excitement, shimmering as clean singing bellows, the playing deep and rich with emotion, spilling into further aggression. Howls jar as the guitars slash, giving one last thrust before fading into a synth bed. “To You, Author of My Fade” has the drums rousing and the vocals crashing, the aura feeling gothy and burly at the same time, the singing glazing as a hearty fog rolls in. Growls ravage as the clean singing adds some cool air into the firestorm, the temperatures dropping as progressive-style leads energize cells. Colors rush as guitars char, growls smash, and keys glisten, sending the storm coverage into the distance. “Lightless Days of a Songless Bird” mashes as the key swell, growls gut, and ice pellets drop, mist glowing before the band wrecks shop again. Howls bustle as the guitars lather, Hayter wailing, “Why can’t I remember how I lost it all?” as melodies light brightly, burning away.

“By This Time Tomorrow” grapples you to the ground, howls crushing as breezy guitars chill, the tempo trudging with great might. Grisly vocals mix with spacey keys, an Alan Watts quote chilling as the music grows more cinematic, guitars firing up with gusto, bursting with blazing energy. “Once the Silence Takes Your Place” opens with murky keys, the playing electrifying, shadowy pressure darkening as the singing bellows, the emotion crashing through walls. Keys flutter, giving off an illuminating sci-fi feel, guitars hitting the gas pedal, lathering as screaming belts. Singing floods as the keys blind, flowing into the bitter cold. Closer “Agonal Dreaming” lumbers, howls slashing as glorious leads generate lightning, a melodic chorus making hearts race, blackening skies and increasing the horrors. Guitars crush, viciousness stabbing, a brief calming settling, synth strings generating deep textures. Guitars dart again as the vocals get uglier, the keys rain down, and a dramatic, sweeping finish drives the final nails into the ground.

“Circadian Promise” is a morose, yet ravaging record that has Fires in the Distance slathering everything inside of them into these songs. This creation permeates the darkness and the despair and transforms that into a glimmer of hope amid catastrophe. This is a record that can find you when you’re at a low point and reengage the chaos in your heart to rise up and make the most of the time you have.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.prostheticrecords.com/collections/fires-in-the-distance

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

Patton Oswalt has a bit about not being interested in where the things he love came from, specifically speaking of the “Star Wars” films. He makes good points. Did we need to see Darth Vader as a blonde-haired boy? Boba Fett as a child? I mean, any of the Gungans? Perhaps not, though the films can help you make connections, strange as they may be.

“All Gates Open” isn’t exactly that for Blood Incantation—vocalist/guitarist Paul Riedl, guitarist Morris Kolontyrsky, fretless bassist Jeff Barrett, drummer Isaac Faulk—but it does give you a lot of hints as to why their amazing third LP “Absolute Elsewhere” turned out the way it did, as this music was composed before that record even came to be. And the four ambient, synth-rich, cosmos-fueled tracks and an hour of music act as a soundtrack for the documentary of the same name, detailing the genesis of “Elsewhere.” Weidl calls it a “yang” to “Timewave Zero,” their first fully instrumental release, and there’s a lot of logic there. It’s a different pathway into their brains fully devoid of brutality and death metal.   

“Balance” opens calmly, space passing by your window, icy keys plinking as the atmosphere grows more immersive. The dreaminess thickens accompanied by fluttering notes and breezy bolts of imagination, the fog building to an unmanageable level, thoughts spilling through the mind. Sounds ring as a new reality dawns, keys lull then zap, a rubbery strangeness forms and sweeps at the stars. “Flight” emits a sci-fi glow, rises and pumps, the song’s heart swelling, a gentle foray into New Age magic opening. Keys swirl and swim through star belts, melodies glisten, and the edges of dreams pull you back, glistening as clicks echo and drum beats rattle. The added percussion elements drive as everything takes on a lab aura, blending into celestial light, gushing and fading.

“Dawn” is the shortest track by far at 5:43, and organs rise, lighting with a 1970s prog sheen, warming up as the synth laps and simmers, blurring your sight. Deeper sounds surface and sink again, keys murmur and vibrate, and everything returns to dust. Closer “Rain” starts with keys trancing, soothing as they awaken, sounds tingling as the mists thicken. Guitars break and give off a summery vibe, and then sounds blur as the acoustics gush, everything swirling through your mind as the elements give off an engine-like moan. A synth string blends new colors, mixing light and dark, encircling as the pressure releases.

As a film soundtrack, “All Gates Open” certainly sounds like a moving and hypnotic way to view their documentary, though having not see it yet I cannot fully understand its impact there. As a collection that shows the bridge between “Timewave Zero” and “Absolute Elsewhere,” it does act as connective tissue that shows another progression for this band’s creative and artistic process. It shouldn’t shock anyone who has been on the entire journey with this band, but it also stands as evidence as to where their heads where at before they created a  modern death metal masterpiece.    

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

To buy the album, go here: https://centurymedia.store/

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

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

Matriarchal ideas and philosophies are under attack, which is hardly new from a world dominated by men in leadership (or maniacal control), who feel the need to stamp out anything they deem a threat. Which is a sign of weakness, but I guess don’t tell them. The arts is an area where femininity and the idea of a goddess thrives, which we visit today.

Downfall of Nur is helmed by sole creator Antonio Sanna, and the project’s new record … take a breath… “And the Firmament Will Burn to Quench the Pain of This Earth.” This is the long-awaited follow-up to 2015’s “Umbras de Barbagia,” and it proves more than worth the way. The record and the band itself centers on Sardinian folklore and the concept of the Mother Goddess juxtaposed with human motherhood, dealing with fertility, loss, hostility, and hope. The record centers on a human who merges his spirit with the Mother Goddess and goes on a journey to help end the constant suffering. You feel every wave and earth pulse crackle over these seven tracks and 80 minutes of thunderous drama dressed in black metal, folk, and doom fury. It asks a lot of your time but rewards in full.

“Disamistade I” opens with sounds floating, voices warbling in the wind, eerie dustiness passing as a bell chimes, crumbling into space. “Beyond The Transcendent Darkness” runs 16:40 and takes a stretch to hover and create an aura, gushing with funereal energy, wails bleeding in the background, the track bursting open fully about six minutes into the mist. Atmospheric black metal hammers, ferocity lapping at wounds, the energy blazing out of control, suddenly calming as strings glaze. The drums then blast as guitars soar, the power combusts, and the earth quakes, the madness subsiding and melting away. “Disamistade II” enters amid piano drizzling, strings chilling, and a female voice calling, folkish elements dusting, fading into the distance. “Underground Halls of the Oldest Goddess Stronghold” runs a healthy 14:40, flooding as drums pelt, guitars glowing as black metal chaos explodes, the shrieks destroying the senses. The playing is fiery and mangling, a misty cold front briefly interjecting, the guitars scorching as anguished cries grab you by the neck, absolutely decimating. The drums punish as the playing spatters blood, a speaking voice rises from the din, the devastation ending in ash.

“The Great Escape” simmers before the steam rises, a mystical reach grazing your shoulder, turning your guts to ice, sounds hypnotizing before blending into the horizon. The title track runs 14:06, punching in and guiding a warm tributary, the moodiness thickening as growls wrench, unleashing viciousness. The leads light as drums ignite, tidal waving energy lapping, shrieks sending jolts of energy down your spine, the volcanic pressure pulling back and allowing calmer winds to take hold. Strings layer as growls choke, the playing upping the ante and peaking with power, bowing in reverence to the clouds. Closer “Deliverance” is the 21:13-long closer, an immersive instrumental that expands the eerie cosmic state, synth boiling as sounds warp as if under gravity from another world. The atmosphere blackens as sounds pulse and murmur, hypnotic waves sizzling your nerve endings. The playing swims through star formations, growing stranger and more electric, the sense of dread getting more profound, the final moments blurring into the sky.

“And the Firmament Will Burn to Quench the Pain of This Earth” not only is a tribute to Sardinia and its mythological history but also a take on our relationship to Mother Earth as relevant  now as it ever has been as we carve away at the planet. Downfall of Nur put so much emotion and heart into this 80-minute creation that it is worth digesting in one sitting to let it fully capture your mind and attention. This is a stunning record that challenges but gives you so much back that it’ll be living in your head and driving your brainwaves.

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

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

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