What better way to start another Monday, another grueling week than with some pure death metal that’ll make your soul feel black and rotting inside. That’s likely how you feel anyway, as you look to another week at the grind, so why not have some music that’ll match your disgust?

French death duo Skelethal could be exactly what you need about now. It comes to you by way of Iron Bonehead, one of the most reliable labels when it comes to unearthing the finest, most miserable underground death metal available on the planet. Name one time when they steered you wrong. Right, you can’t, so pay attention. The band’s first EP “Deathmanicvs Revelation” has everything that old-school death metal fans generally demand in their bands: raw power, skull-crushing death, production that sounds like it took place underground, and general ugliness that all the mainstream, polished-to-hell death metal bands have no grasp of whatsoever. This will bust you up and leave you for dead.

The two fellows behind Skelethal are guitarist/vocalist Gui Haunting and drummer/bassist Jon Whiplash, who both play in the band Infinite Translation, a thrash-oriented group that also pays homage pretty directly to that genre. So these two guys know a thing or two about what makes their chosen sub-genre pure and destructive, and they bring all of that to the seven-cut, 23-minute “Deathmanicvs Revelation.” The recording will surround you in fire, death, and destruction, and it doesn’t emulate the forces that preceded this band nearly three decades ago, but it shows a reverence for the pioneers of the genre. They sound like they’re eager to take the roots and carry them forward in their own way, and that’s part of what makes “Deathmanicvs Revelation” such a pleasure, even if it’s ugly as hell.

After a creaky, stormy intro piece that lets piano drip like blood, the guys tear into “Macabre Oblivion” that erupts with death glory, furious growls, and raw energy that gallops forward and mauls. Some awesome, doomy guitar riffs sprawl forth as if they’re mid-Black Sabbath worship and the last couple minutes of the song find the band grinding to a halt, blowing up again, and corroding. “Putrefaction” is up next, setting off an obliterating first minute, with gruff vocals, a fast and charging pace, filthy punishment, and some razor-sharp lead guitar work that could char you. The title track comes sweeping in from there, with gut-wrenching death, a punchy, thrash-ridden groove that’s as violent as it is glorious, more strong leads, speed, and vocals that practically are spat on the floor.

“Curse of the Neverending” is burly and mean, and though it’s only 1:51 long, making it the shortest track on the record, it does make the most of its time. Throaty growls, clobbering guitars, and the right levels of intensity make this both fun and bruising. “Death Returns” brings doom back into the picture again, but then it blasts open and starts the mauling all over again. There are some great speedy sections in this song, awesome soloing, and more thrashing that tips a cap a bit to their other band. The final minutes are full of pure devastation, and then it all dissolves into murky synth that sounds like it could soundtrack a B-level sci-fi movie. Closer “A Violation of Something Sacred” lets loose from the start, offering no mercy and providing none, and there even is a section that sounds a bit influenced by American hardcore. Or maybe that’s just me hearing that. The riffs are mean, the vocals go for the kill, and the finish is total demolition that leaves everything in soot.

Skelethal is another great find by Iron Bonehead, a duo that has plenty of admiration for the roots of death metal but has their own ideas for how to carry it into the future. “Deathmanicvs Revelation” is an incredibly positive and brutal start for the band, and anyone who still holds dear the blood and violence on which death metal was built will find a ton to like about this band. Hey, look, a lot of us death metal fans are a little judgmental and defensive, so it’s nice to have a new band like Skelethal to tout with no worries, knowing people like us will feast upon these French monsters’ work.

For more on the band, go here: http://skelethal.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://ironbonehead.de/shop/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.ironbonehead.de/

We as metal fans are lucky to be living in a time when we still have a nice collection of living legends still making music and playing before our very eyes. I’m talking people like Lemmy Kilmister, the members of Iron Maiden and Judas Priest, Ozzy Osbourne and the remaining members of Black Sabbath, Doro Pesch, and even Metallica, despite the strange last two decades. We should be thankful and embrace this.

Another man who has meant a gigantic deal to the world of heavy metal and the many, many bands and artists that followed in his footsteps is Tom G. Warrior, who fronted and created with legendary bands such as Hellhammer and Celtic Frost and rose from his own ashes so many times that he has to be on his fourth or fifth life. He is revered, respected, worshipped, and seen as an idol of heavy metal, and no matter how many people tried to follow him and emulate what he does as a musician, none ever have come close to matching his dark magic. Simply, he is one of the genre’s most unique, raw, and troubled souls, and the art he creates are of his heart and soul, as black as those may be.

When Celtic Frost dissolved in 2008 after their cataclysmic and astonishing comeback record “Monotheist” dropped like an anvil in 2006, it was disheartening to so many fans because, here was this band that survived so many downs that followed incredible highs that it seemed cosmically unfair that the group was not going to see another day. They created an untouchable triptych of releases in the 1980s that started with 1984’s eye-opening EP “Into the Pandemonium,” (the first song is “Into the Crypt of Rays,” an all-time classic!) continued into debut LP “To Mega Therion” the following year, and flowed into the strange and glorious “Into the Pandemonium” in 1987. Yeah, they fell apart not long afterward, and yeah, Warrior and a new lineup made “Cold Lake,” one of the weirdest disappointments of all time, but this story needed to end the right way. They seemed to light fire to their entire history with “Monotheist,” a record as great as their classics, but after their breakup, Warrior declared he would see his mission into the future with the new band Triptykon.

The band debuted with the thunderous and maliciously glorious “Eparistera Daimones” in 2010, and it instantly wiped away any disappointment of Celtic Frost’s demise. Along with guitarist/backing vocalist V. Santura (Dark Fortress, Noneuclid), bassist Vanja Šlajh, and drummer Norman Lonhard, Warrior had explosive new life with a lineup he has repeatedly said is the most familial and healthy of his entire career, and just from seeing them play live, you could sense something was different in a good way. A great EP “Shatter” followed that same year and now, four years later and after more tumult for Warrior, we have the gargantuan new “Melana Chasmata,” a record that not only meets the mountain of expectations but goes so far over the top. It’s another devastating step forward for this band, but it also has Warrior especially reaching back a little bit musically to his roots, mixing the best of all of his worlds.

“Tree of Suffering” opens the record, and right away, longtime Warrior fans will feel right at home with the downtuned, burly riffs, his trademark “ooh!” that we only get a couple times here, and his commanding howl as he shouts, “Speak to me, my master!” The rest of the band mauls along with him beautifully, with Warrior yowling on the chorus, “I am your life!” with Santura following him up properly with savage growls. The pace keeps sweltering, eventually a Middle Eastern feel is injected into the song, and the track bows out with fiery soloing and one final charge. “Boleskine House” is eerie and cold, with Šlajh providing dreamy vocals to go along with Warrior’s purposely detached singing. Then his growls erupt, a sludgy dose of hammering sets in, and it’s off into the fire. The song balances dark and light perfectly, and it’s one of the most textured tracks on the record. “Altar of Deceit” is one of the more approachable songs, and if there’s a gateway track for newcomers, this one’s it. The chorus itself is one of the catchier in the band’s short history, and it’s just bludgeoning enough. “Breathing” takes some time to settle in, and once it does, the ignition goes off in full. It’s thrashy, doom-laden, impossibly dark, and one of the best tracks on this incredible record. I keep going back to this one a lot, and it never ceases to knock me on my ass. The pace is faster than usual, Warrior’s growled words are spat out at a quick clip, and the menacing thrashing should get your blood surging in no time. This one will kill live. “Aurorae” properly brings you back down again and is the ideal antidote to what you just heard. The song is murky and gothy, it has a nice, damp, rainy feel to it, and when you hear Warrior call, “Spirit wasting away,” you know those aren’t just mere words.

“Demon Pact” is properly strange, with striking synth, sounds that could soundtrack a proper horror film, and a slurry pace that takes its time freezing your cells. Warrior warbles like a beast, unleashes more of his clean vocals, and the rest of the band gives him the proper backdrop for his bloodletting. “In the Sleep of Death” is a total showstopper, and for those who clamor for some classic Celtic Frost-painted work, you’ll feast on this. Warrior returns to his moan-like, tortured singing, calling out to a lost, dead love Emily (could it be Emily Bronte, a regular muse of his?). The song and the passion both quiver throughout, the horror and sorrow mix ideally, and Warrior laments, “You were the blood in my veins,” as he shovels final scoops of dirt over a long-ago-dug grave. This song is amazing. The 12:25 epic “Black Snow” follows, and it makes the best of its running time. The band isn’t in a hurry at all, instead settling into a muddy pace highlighted by Warrior going from whisper to shout, guitars swelling and boiling over, filthy grime, and deliberately meted out punishment. Closer “Waiting” is a sobering, reflective, dreamy song, with Šlajh again providing her hazy singing, repeating the line, “We are the same,” with Warrior later joining her on that refrain. Keys trickle into the mix, the band sounds like they are achieving a trance state musically, and the final moments send the record off into a space that is both cosmically energetic and uncomfortable lovely. What a final gasp this is.

Thankfully, wonderfully, Tom G. Warriors lives and prevails, remaining as vital a voice that we have in metal. He is on his third landmark band, and Triptykon sound like they have plenty of life to have a dark, bountiful future. “Melana Chasmata” may have drained Warrior of his life at times and likely was a mental struggle, but what he and his band created is one of the most important documents for metal fans in 2014. It’s a fire-breathing, lumbering monster that is truly terrifying, wholly inspiring, and looking to destroy whatever is in front of us. The world needs more Warriors and more groups like Triptykon to keep metal going in the coming decades, and there’s no doubt this record will be a template for those in coming generations who follow the band’s charred path.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.triptykon.net/

To buy the album, go here: http://www.cmdistro.com/

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

We often describe records as journeys people can take when they listen to the music. But bands also can be looked at as sojourns, with members coming and going, ideas changing, sounds going through a metamorphosis, and the purpose switching faces.

German black metal entity Infestus actually can claim their records and their band both serve as adventures in their own right. Ever since the dissolution of Dunkelfront in 2003, Infestus rose from the ashes and started making righteous noise. The band was comprised of multi-instrumentalist Andras (he was known as Moloc in Dunkelfront and played drums), guitarist Harbarth, and vocalist Dagon, and they released a 2003 demo and a debut full-length record “Worshipping Times of Old” in 2004. Soon thereafter, Harbarth left the fold, and Andras took over all instrumentation, with Dagon remaining the vocalist. The duo released one more record, 2008’s “Chroniken des Ablebens” before Dagon also dropped out of the project. That left Andras on his own, which is how he remains, creating 2011’s incredible, landmark “E x | I s t” and now returning three years later with “The Reflecting Void,” an even more realized record musically and philosophically. Andras seems to be at his high point creatively.

As noted, Infestus’ records always have been compelling documents, where it’s tough to pull out a song here or there and instead standing as albums that need to be digested in full. Maybe that’s frustrating to the Spotify audience that likes to jump back and forth from song to song, band to band, but Infestus requires a commitment. And if you are along for the ride and choose to be enraptured by the band’s brand of darkness, you are rewarded handsomely. “The Reflecting Void” is a great example of that, and along with the idea of your devotion to the record paying off, anyone who has followed Infestus throughout the years is certain to be fulfilled as the music never has sounded this huge, ambitious, and stimulating. The record goes far beyond black metal into the atmosphere, with thought-provoking melodies, moments of eerie darkness, and even some vocals that get away from the creaky shrieks, though just in doses.

“A Dying Dream” opens the record with noise humming before guitars rise up into a doomy lather, and sorrowful lead lines support the song’s dark essence. The drama builds along with the song, as Andras growls his words, and the final moments of the song bleed out into silence. “Spiegel der Steele” follows with charged-up guitars, mean and harsh playing, and some clean melodies trickling underneath the chaos. The pace goes back and forth, from tranquil to tumultuous, with the end leaving a mist of strangeness. “Constant Soul Corrosion” has a clean, watery intro, with Andras whispering over the dreamy sequence, but just when it seems it’ll stay along this pace, the song explodes, igniting the fury and unleashing compelling anguish that is thick and real. Andras returns to his quiet vocals as the song winds down, with one last blast of power left to finish off the piece. “Cortical Spreading Darkness” explodes out of the gates, with violence and savagery, cascading melodies, and tons of shifts from atmospheric back to volcanic. The song slips into heavy chugging, with Andras desperately calling, “Save me!” with the last bit of the track being treating with noise whir and spacey transmissions.

“Fractal Rise of the Fall” is a thrashy, cosmic-minded instrumental track, the shortest of the bunch at 2:35, and then it’s on to “Innere Reflexion,” a song that opens with punishing galloping, a serious mean streak, and drums that sound like they are programmed to kill. The music becomes exploratory at points, with the song sprawling and searching in the shadows, with everything fading out into the night. “Devouring Darkness” wastes no time showing its intentions, going right for the throat with crushing blasts, devastating howls, and then a classically played part that brings the temperature back down. There is clean singing at some points, whispered growls at others, and rich, textured guitar work that is flush with bleeding emotion. Closer “Origin” has a prog-fueled first few minutes before it launches into a sinister section containing bloodthirsty playing and growling, more tempo changes that dip and boil back up again several times, and everything leading to an abrupt ending that sucks the air right out of the room, leaving you wondering what the hell happened. It’s a bit of a letdown, the way it just ends like that, but perhaps that’s by design to get you off the track one final time.

Andras is operating at a high level with Infestus, and “The Reflecting Void” is the most immersive of all of the records in the band’s catalog. While “E x | I s t” may have gripped harder and been edgier and darker, this record expands that thinking and goes for more colors and shapes, more ways to get your brain working. It’s an album to which you should devote your time and energy so you can understand its mission completely. It might help you see into worlds and planes of existence you didn’t know exist, even if that discovery happens only in your imagination.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.infestus.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://www.debemur-morti.com/en/12-eshop

For more on the label, go here: http://www.debemur-morti.com/en/

The utterly bizarre in heavy metal can make spending time with a band something other than just putting on a record, absorbing the music, and walking away with an opinion. There’s an experience with a strange band like a Portal or Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats or Brujeria where you also get to use your imagination to figure out what’s really going on behind their shadows and music (even if it’s just a lot of tongue-in-cheek, murderous fun).

The latest in the line of truly strange metal bands has bubbled out of Toronto in the form of Thantifaxath, a shrouded, mysterious trio whose identities remain unknown and, if they performed with completely different people every show, hardly anyone would be able to know that definitively. You want names? We don’t have them. You want to know if they have prior experience in any other bands? We also cannot answer that for you. But that all feeds nicely into their music, which is just as bizarre as this band is. It’s even tough to put a finger on what the group’s brand of metal sounds like. There is black metal, death metal, prog, and all kinds of weird zapping all over the metallic universe, often all in the same few seconds of music. They’re clearly not comfortable staying in one zone, and that pays off in great dividends on their incredible debut record “Sacred White Noise.”

The band’s name also has eerie origins of ceremonial magick and the Qlippoth tunnels and a bunch of things I have really cursory knowledge about, so I won’t try to fool you. But just doing some mild research on the matter adds to the band’s aura, and hearing the music on the six-track, 44-minute “Sacred White Noise” adds deep levels of nightmarish energy. This is a different experience, one you don’t get from all death and black metal bands, and Thantifaxath even stand apart on the Dark Descent roster, which is made up of some pretty diverse and interesting groups. These guys or girls could be demons themselves. Hell, how do we know? And again, spending time digesting the music over and over again still makes me feel odd and like I’m going through a record that never fully presents all of its deep, soil-ridden secrets to me.

The record begins with “The Bright White Nothing at the End of the Tunnel,” a title that’s maybe as revealing as anything on the record, if you take the words literally. Organs spill in at the start before guitars erupt and bleed all over, smearing everything with muck, and the playing goes from completely brutal to tricky, infernally mathematical, and strange, with the vocals sounding harsh and icy. “Where I End and the Hemlock Begins” has a frosty intro than then spills into a cascade of sounds and mystical chaos that meets up with violent, inventive guitars that spiral all over and drums that devastate the sense. But the music also gets dreamy, and not in a comforting sense, as you float through the madness and slurry wildness. Toward the end of the song, the punishment wells up again and weaves together a compelling finish that arrests the senses. “Gasping Into Darkness” has strange liturgical-style chants at the start that give way to lightning-intense guitar work and furious thrashing that make it easy to imagine fire engulfing everything around you. There are more inventive melodies, dizzying compositions, and waves of crazed fury that can overtake and overwhelm you.

Instrumental “Eternally Falling” is murky, with dark keys rolling in, setting up cosmic, psychedelic fog. You want to feel uncomfortable, like you are about to leave your body? These first few moments will do that. Eventually noise pierces that illusion, guitars trickle in, and the band opens up its strange visions a little bit for closer examination. None of it will make you feel even remotely human. “Panic Becomes Despair” begins churning from the start, with guitars creating a spinning vortex of terror and the vocals feeling nothing short of vicious. There is a pure blackness to the guitar melodies, and eventually things slow down a bit to achieve a death march tempo designed to stomp you. The final moments let static hiss and sting, with the dark energy carrying everything to its muddy grave. Epic closer “Lost in Static Between World” leads you into a room filled with evil ambiance and thick violins playing like they are leading you to your eternal place of suffering. Then the song opens up horrifically, with the band settling into a prog-doom pace, and the vocals barking out like one final warning to avoid the abyss. The song sprawls and pull, with cries of, “Where are you?” that sound desperate and frustrated, with the music providing ample moments for sorrow and anger. Pockets of speed arrive and blend into the final moments of horrific nightmares, where all the sounds blend together and cause your stomach to wrench and your brain to beg for a drop of mercy. It doesn’t come until Thantifaxath decide you’ve heard enough, 11:16 after this sickness started.

You’re not likely to find another band with the sense of mystery and ambitious metallic chops possessed by Thantifaxath. “Sacred White Noise” is an album that should compel you to take adventures that could result in your demise, expand your thinking on what metal is really capable of doing, and immerse you in an unknown realm that promises no answers and likely won’t provide any. This is a chance to take a journey with a record that isn’t dictating to you what you should think and feel and what you should experience along the way. That’s up to you, and the next time you encounter these frosty figures for another sojourn, you might end up meeting blank souls different from the ones that greeted you here.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.metal-archives.com/bands/Thantifaxath/3540326043

To buy the album, go here: http://www.darkdescentrecords.com/store/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.darkdescentrecords.com/

Darkness is a common theme in metal. From the sound, to the imagery, to the artwork, to the words either bellowed or growled, you can’t escape the feeling that something creepy and evil might be making its way up your spine, into your mouth, and into your bloodstream. In fact, that very thing allures so many of us to this music and keeps us forever.

Not every band pulls this off with great skill, mind you, but when one comes along that has the thing down pat, it’s time to bow your head, raise a glass of dark libations, and salute the sooty souls responsible for creating what’s setting up shop inside your head. We have that very thing today with German/Swedish duo The Oath, the latest signing by the powerful Rise Above, the practical go-to source for great, true doom metal. Simply, The Oath are one of the most compelling new bands of the year so far. What they do isn’t exactly breaking the mold, and there are a lot of other bands out there–Blood Ceremony, Mount Salem, Witch Mountain–that do similar things. But that makes those bands I used as comparison touchpoints is their special approach to their music, and The Oath have that very same thing. You feel and believe every drop of their music, and if you’re like me, you’ll be surprised when halfway through their tremendous self-titled debut record, that you’re utterly intoxicated and lost somewhere in time.

Now, there’s a full group of people responsible for the playing of the music on The Oath’s debut record, but the band itself is comprised of two core members in vocalist Johanna Sadonis and guitarist Linnea Olsson. They declare they always will be the only full-time members of The Oath, and with the magic they conjure together, there’s no reason at all to question that thinking. Both are incredible performers, full of special skill that easily makes you open your eyes and pay attention when you hear them play, and they have those extra gears not everyone has. They have a really awesome take on old-style metal and doom in the vein of pre-Dickinson Iron Maiden, Mercyful Fate, and even modern warriors In Solitude, and it’s so easy to get caught up in what they do. Joining them on this record are bassist Simon Bouteloup and drummer Andrew Prestidge, and they do a whale of a job hammering home these songs.

I cited the evil and darkness afoot on this album, and you get a healthy dose on opener “All Must Die,” a strong, catchy song where Sadonis calls, “Satan come to me,” paying homage to the underground forces and later howling, “Rise like the morning light.” I was instantly hooked with this song, and things just go up from here. “Silk Road” has strong, smoky singing, fluid guitar work, and compelling drama and passion that are hallmarks of this band’s songs. “Night Child” is built on great, charging riffs and more dark, infectious singing, with Sadonis observing, “I hear my father calling,” as if her eyes are rolling into the back of her head in midst of a trance. “Leaving Together” is more mid-paced but also very mesmerizing, with a slow-burn melody treatment and a feeling like you’re in the middle of a hallucination-filled fever dream.

“Black Rainbow” kicks the pace back up again, with those In Solitude comparisons coming on strong (in a good way), and the band settles into a great, doomy shuffle where Sadonis takes command by calling, “We were the ones that were born to die.” Great song. “Silver and Dust” flows nicely, with more chugging melodies, some great soloing, and, of course, tremendous vocals that soar and enrapture. “Death Delight” is packed with evil temptation, more rock-solid darkness, and Sadonis referencing the shadowy figure again by poking, “He is the devil coming for you.” And it should be pointed out that when this band brings up the devil, it’s not some horned creature with a pitchfork. It’s black essence literally here to devour your soul. “In Dream” is an acoustic-based instrumental that leads into the finale “Psalm 9,” a seven-minute closer that begins with an eerie, trickling pace that eases you into a deep slumber, as they rock you with spooky dreams when Sadonis warns, “Fall onto your knees, I’m not praying for your soul.” And then the world ignites, as the band starts clubbing you heavily, kicking up a spectacular gallop that fills your lungs with dust and lights the world on fire. “Seven is my name!” Sadonis howls, as the band burns everything to the ground, giving one final salvo to make your heart race and for you to give yourselves over fully to The Oath.

I never doubt Rise Above and the talent they spread to the world, and The Oath are another incredible building block for that label. Hell, this band is so powerful, they could become the label’s go-to group in short time, as long as they continue to build on what they do here and remain true to their mission. The Oath’s debut is a keeper, one every fan of classic metal and doom should track down and absorb in full. You won’t be sorry, and you might even find that your nightmares will become a little more interesting from here on out.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.theoathisdead.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://www.riseaboverecords.com/store/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.riseaboverecords.com/

Lineup changes are not rare events in the world of metal. They happen all the time, and with the wear and tear that bands on the underground scene have to go through, the unforgiving means of travel, the surviving day by day, it’s no surprise band rosters are so volatile. But even major metal bands are not immune, as all of the big ones have had personnel shifts.

It’s the major, band-altering changes that really shake us up and, as a result, the band itself. You know, the Bruce Dickinsons, the Rob Halfords, the Ozzy Osbournes, the Ronnie James Dios, the Dave Lombardos. Yeah, sorry Slayer. Nothing against Paul Bostaph, but get your heads out of your asses already. While they may not be on the same level as those giant bands from a recognition standpoint, what’s gone on with Cormorant the last couple years really worried me as a listener alone. When it was announced Arthur von Nagel, the band’s vocalist/lyricist/bassist announced he was leaving the group to get on with his life’s work, it seemed a catastrophic shift that couldn’t be covered. Who was going to step in and not just make good for von Nagel’s powerful, charismatic voice, but who would write up such deep, studied, imaginative words that made Cormorant so special? How could this band truly go on? I admit, I was really skeptical.

The band’s third release “Earth Diver” finally has arrived, the follow-up to 2011’s unbelievable “Dwellings,” and immediately I was full of butterflies over what I’d hear. That probably sounds over the top, but that’s how much I have enjoyed Cormorant’s music in the past, and anything damaging to their reputation would be tough to bear. But quite literally, five minutes into the record, all of my fears and doubts were squashed. The band feels completely alive, and while von Nagel always will be missed from the group, these guys are carrying on in the true spirit and ethos of the band, and they remain as majestic, thought-provoking, and huge as ever before.

Obviously von Nagel needed to be replaced, and filling his giant shoes (uh, figuratively … no idea what size he wears) is Marcus Luscombe, who handles bass and vocals and whose death growls are savage and devastating, ensuring you from the moment he opens his mouth that you’re going to get plenty of brutality even at his most imaginative. The rest of the lineup remains intact, and I certainly don’t want to take away from what they’ve always brought to the band because they’re also incredibly vital to Cormorant’s power. On guitar and vocals is Matt Solis, on guitars and other instruments is Nick Cohon, and on drums and vocals is Brennan Kunkel. They sound ferocious and adventurous on this record, delivering eight tracks that should thrill the band’s fans everywhere and erase any doubt anyone had about their survival.

The record opens with a quietly strummed, drama-building instrumental “Eris” that spills right into “Daughter of Void,” the first proper song on the record and one hell of a quaking statement. It takes a few moments to build before it blows open, with Luscombe unleashing his first hellacious growls and the band hitting a prog-fueled stride that matches the sentiment of the song perfectly. There are cleaner sections (including melodic singing that returns quite often on this album) that sound like classic Opeth, and the grisly meets the glorious as the song winds to a close. “Sold As a Crow” is up next, and it continues to swirl in the air, with aggressive guitar picking, punchy blasts of death, and vicious growls. As they are wont to do, Cormorant switch back and forth from destructive to openly melodic, never afraid to show all sides and colors of their personality, and the guitar playing does a nice job pushing the song forward. “Waking Sleep” is a stunning, history-laced storyteller set in Belarus that begins with quiet, reflective tones and singing before it opens into rougher terrain suited for the tale’s increasing danger. The drama pushes you and pulls you with its tides, dishing out heavy thrashing and pockets of tranquility, and the final minute clubs you slowly as the song bleeds out.

“The Pythia” opens sludgy and doomy, with tales of priestesses of Apollo, situated in Mount Parnassus and who were ancient soothsayers. Kunkel’s drumming is a highlight of this song, with his playing driving and keeping your blood pumping, and eventually the band hits on a heavy groove that could cause a rash of headbanging as people listen at home, in the car, wherever. “Broken Circle” has a long, drawn-out opening where the band takes its time conjuring a mood and getting your head into their psyches before they drop the bag of hammers on your head. The vocals are grisly and growl-filled, with the band hitting on a lightning-fast black metal pace that sizzles and fades into a new acoustic passage that allows the smoke to clear. The scene is bathed in cosmos, and as it stretches, the band builds layer upon layer, giving way to one final burst of energy before the song ends abruptly. “Mark the Trail” is the most unique track on here, giving off a Medieval feel (or maybe that’s just something I’m sensing) as they work their way through searing, triumphant guitar leads, surging punishment, and a feeling that might make you want to grab a sword and wield it against your enemies. Even if that’s just in your mind. Closer “A Sovereign Act” is an 11:39 epic that sludges and even trickles into funeral doom-style area both musically and vocally, and there even are times when the band breaks loose, kicks up the pace, and brings back the black metal effect one more time. Luscombe lets out some lurching growls, the song feels heavy as a truck full of cement as it reaches its finale, and the band lets the track bleed out into the night, leaving you enthralled but still dreaming.

So, I’m thrilled to have had my worries dashes pretty much immediately by this new era of Cormorant, and even losing such a vital piece of their legacy wasn’t enough to rob the guys of their energy and intensity. I feel pretty foolish to have fretted in the first place. Cormorant remain one of the best-kept secrets in all of heavy metal, a true DIY success story when really any label should be salivating to have them, and one of the most imaginative forces anywhere. “Earth Diver” not only is a worthy addition to Cormorant’s catalog, but it just might end up one of the most original, alluring metal records of the entire year.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.cormorantmusic.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://cormorant.bandcamp.com/album/earth-diver

Not all music was designed with the intent to be instantly approachable for all listeners. It would be a pitifully boring world if every piece of music that came out was easily absorbed, processed, and filed away in the mind in an instant. Imagine if there were no records or bands that took time to understand and get behind. I’d want no part of that.

Luckily, the world is not that way, and thankfully we have bands such as French black metal aliens Neige Morte that exist to make us question what we understand music to be. They don’t follow easy formulas. Hell, they don’t follow formulas at all, unless you consider ones that blow up in the laboratory and poison all of those around. Pretty sure they’d grasp those ones pretty hard. This band needs time to set up in your head, and don’t be surprised if you’re a little off put by Neige Morte if this is your first experience with them. They’re not easy to get,and it might seem like their strange, cosmic, sprawling black metal is coming off the rails from time to time. Sometimes it feels like they’re feeling their way as they go. But they always have an idea of their purpose and a reckless intent that make their music so bloody good.

The band has their second full-length “Bicephaale” ready for human consumption, and as you might have gathered from what’s been said so far, it’s a mind-altering slab of weirdness. The album title means having both male and female traits (also means “double-headed,” which makes some sense), and the record spits out dark, menacing, icy sounds that could freeze your blood cells and screw with your mind. The group is comprised of three hellish souls who go by mysterious initials, instead of their full names. On vocals is XT, whose work goes from violent and destructive to just deranged and psychologically off center. It can be scary at times. On guitars is SA and on drums is XT (formerly of Overmars), who combine to create a cacophony of horrors and blazing tyranny that is oppressive and shockingly impressive.

The record opens with the fittingly named “500 Jours de Haine” (meaning 500 days of hatred), that has guitars hanging in the air like a swarm of nasty hornets, and the whole thing rips open with wild, inhuman shrieks, sickeningly grinding guitars, and weird melodies that lurk underneath and disarm you. The song teases a halt, but the bubbling continues, with monstrous belched growls, ominous guitar work, and noise that pulls the track to its conclusion. “Death Shall Have No Domain” starts with echoed drums and grunted vocals that spill into mucky guitars that deliberately drag things through the mud. The song eventually spills into a strange composition that might make more conservative listeners shake their heads in confusion, drunken, sludgy playing, and eventually some destructive speed to change paces. The guitar work is even really jazzy at one point, with the soloing sounding like Steely Dan, which is impressive and pretty damn cool. “Eaters of Worlds” is up next and begins fast and bizarre, like they do so often, and the ferocious growling and razor-sharp soloing really let the track catch fire. The band’s experimentation really hits a high point in this song toward the end, which is both breath-taking and terrifying. You don’t quite know where these guys are going, as they seem to be reaching their way through the darkness, but it’s exhilarating.

“Eater of Soul” is treated both with explosive power and dissonance, bringing to mind Blut Aus Nord and Deathspell Omega, but the guitars then grow muddy and and begin ringing out in piercing noise. XT begins to speak, though it sounds as if his voice is coming to you backward, and from there the song kicks back into high gear with static-filled chugging and fury. “…Et Vacuité du Combat” (combat of emptiness) begins with swirling feedback, warbly music, and vocals that come out like madness and chokes, like blood is welling in the back of XT’s throat. He sounds like he needs medical attention, and maybe he did. The song seems as if it originated from suffering in a dark, damp basement somewhere, as the song is full of torture, drawn-out damage, and crazed shrieks. The cut is tricky and bizarre, lets some melody into the room, but gets ugly again before the whole thing signs off. Closer “Plenitude…” lurches ahead into the darkness, with clean guitars haunting and trickling over everything before it again returns to the more beastly side of Neige Morte, as they hulk and blast their way through this final track that lets them push off one last blast of sickness and horror and leave you with your head spinning.

Neige Morte are an abrasive, corrosive, divisive band that certainly won’t rub off on everyone the same way. And that’s a great thing, because they provide a mysterious, deadly element to black metal, a genre that could use more purely dangerous bands such as this one. “Bicephaale” is a sobering document that brings the mystery back to metal, and I’m sure the fact they’ll repulse as many as they attract will thrill these dark souls to their core.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.neigemorte.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://store.consouling.be/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.consouling.be/

Not all bands get a chance at new life. Most have whatever run they’re on before they disintegrate, fade into existence, or simply lose it completely. For a band to have a chance to move from one plane of existence to another is a special thing reserved for very few.

Iron Maiden, the mighty and hallowed, were able to do it by bringing back members of their classic lineup and getting their creative juices flowing again. That new run has last more than a decade now, and it’s been amazingly fruitful. You also can look at a different kind of example like Triptykon, that grew out of the ashes of Celtic Frost and gave Tom G. Warrior another chance to spread his reignited fire to the rest of the metal world. The spirit has carried from band to the next, and now Warrior’s already revered name has taken on more meaning and weightier importance. Now we can add Cult Leader to that list of bands that saw one era of their existence come to an end only to find them rising out of the ashes and breathing new life.

You probably remember Gaza, the physically imposing, supremely heavy band from Salt Lake City that released three volatile full-lengths and an EP, none of which pulled any punches either musically or lyrically. But after they put out their third record “No Absolutes in Human Suffering,” the band hit trouble spots (most notably a controversy surrounding Gaza vocalist Jon Parkin), and eventually the group was brought to an end. It seemed kind of premature since the band was gaining momentum and didn’t seem to hit their peak yet, but that worry didn’t last long. Out of the chaos rose Cult Leader, combining the remaining three members of Gaza–Anthony Lucero (moving from bass to vocals, and more than capably, might I add), guitarist Michael Mason, and drummer Casey Hansen–along with bassist Sam Richards, with the same levels of black violence, hardcore-style chaos, and blunt force trauma. Really, if you already liked Gaza, you’ll be pretty at home with Cult Leader’s ferocious debut “Nothing for Us Here,” as the colors and shades are pretty similar. But it isn’t a copy of what they did as Gaza by any means, and Lucero adds his own personality and power to the vocals, so it’s a way for these guys to experience that new life on their own terms. The only direction for this band is up.

The album opens with “God’s Lonely Children,” giving you the sense that this band will carry over some of the same lyrical positions Gaza held. The song boils in lava, heavy but formless, as Lucero howls over the cauldron, “Nothing for us here! Move on!” That spills into “Flightless Birds,” where the band hits on all cylinders, clubbing and smashing with a frenetic pace, vicious vocals spilling out and punishing, and thick feedback swelling over and stinging the senses. The music is thick and muddy, and the vocals are gruff with pain and anger. “Mongrel” follows, with some of the darkest, bruised lyrics on the record, with Lucero howling, “I am a loyal dog/My name is sorrow.” His point is that, like a dependable dog, sorrow is the thing nipping at his ankles, constantly behind him, just not in the loving, giving way as a beloved pup. The riffs are grimey, the pace is slow-paced and killing, and the entire thing feels horribly menacing.

“The Indoctrinator’s Deathbed” is fast and thick, with guitars trudging through like a runaway freight train, with vocals that sound like they’re trying to burn your skin, and pelting drums that not only damages Hansen’s kit but could put welts on your chest. “Skin Crawler” is doomy and mucky, with Lucero unleashing screamier vocals and the rest of the band settling into a thrashing pattern complete with gut-wrenching drumming and burly guitar work. Closer “Driftwood” is the longest cut on the record by far at 6:06, and it’s the most varied track of the group. The band plays a little slower and adds reflective textures to the mix, while the vocals remain harsh and bloody, with Lucero wailing tortured lines such as, “How could I have known?” in the middle of what’s a thorny diatribe. The song stretches out and lets the band experiment a little bit, proving they’re capable of doing more than just demolishing your senses, and once the track fades into space, you’ll feel like you took a trip with the band you might not have expected.

Cult Leader certainly have picked up where Gaza left off momentum-wise, and with this new formation and their fiery ambition, the sky’s the limit for the band. This EP is a great first step, a perfect serving size for those who missed what these guys bring to the table and a promise that they just might go in some unexpected directions in the future, if the final song isn’t a red herring. It’s great to see these guys thriving in their new existence, and hope springs eternal for what they will bring on their debut full-length, no matter how much it’ll bloody our lips.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/CultLeaderMusic?filter=1

To buy the album, go here: http://store.deathwishinc.com/category/new.html

For more on the label, go here: http://www.deathwishinc.com/

Sometimes you have to relax and have patience for good things. You can’t really rush a creative process if the creators behind it don’t want to match your push to have something new in your ears. Sorry about that. But even if you’re left waiting and wanting for a long time, once you get the thing and you’re happy with it, then wasn’t it all worth it? Let creators create.

Power, strength, and tenacity are three qualities you’ll find in Nux Vomica. The band doesn’t have the deepest catalog of all time, with just three full-length records to their name, and we haven’t gotten a new platter from the band since 2009’s excellent “Asleep in the Ashes” (their 2011 EP “Embrace the Cycles” aside). So maybe that’s caused a little itching amongst their fan base that their new self-titled record has taken so damn long to get into our grubby little hands, but relax. It’s finally here, and it’s a gargantuan stomper that’ll make you think and probably hurt a lot. It’s massive, it’s destructive, it’s filthy, it sounds really mean, and it goes to show that sometimes you have to wait a little bit to get great music from a punishing band.

Nux Vomica’s sludge-based doom and death and whatever you want to call it started to bubble to the surface a little more than a decade ago, with their first full-length “A Civilized World” following in 2007. The band kept growing on what they had, continued to build their sound, and knocked people on their asses when 2009’s explosive “Asleep” arrived. It’s funny, but that record still sounds fresh to me, probably because it’s such a different animal from their debut and everything else around it. The record always feels like it has something new to offer me, a twist or nuance I never noticed before. It’s an underappreciated gem, and their new record takes things even further. The fact the band is now on Relapse should raise their profile and have more people paying attention, and if you’re new to Nux Vomica, get ready to have your head caved in by the band’s massive sound.

The band’s ranks consist of three former members of Wake Up on Fire, including guitarist/vocalist Tim Messing, guitarist/vocalist Chris Control, and vocalist/programmer Just Dave. Along with them are bassist Danny and craftily named drummer Zacrilege. On this record, the band delves even deeper into the epic terrain. There are but three tracks on the album, all of them mammoths, and it’ll take a serious commitment to tackle the whole thing in one listen. But that’s how this record should be experienced, as a whole. And like “Asleep,” you’ll find new doors opening, things hidden in strange places, and monsters lurking behind you that you don’t know are there until you’re in their grasp.

“Sanity Is for the Passive,” all 19:48 of it, gets the record off to a powerful start, with feedback swelling, the band mauling you with mud, crust, and death, and a strangely catchy melody lurking under all of that madness. That part of it sneaks up on you, and just when you’re hooked, they take you back underwater again, dashing you with black metal-style guitar work, some well-placed weirdness, and a creaky monologue that’s unsettling. The song finally lets you back up to the surface for its final moments of devastating slathering. “Reeling” is the baby of the group at a mere 11:53, and again, it lets melody and brutality play off of one another. The vocals are savage and fiery, with the band pounding on all cylinders, but then the pace slows and atmosphere enters the room. Clean guitars trickle, shoegazey guitars gets worked into a lather, and dreamy effects give the thing a cloudy ambiance. Before the song draws to its end, the band powers back up again and starts to wail with speed and power, eventually going for a post-punk-style sound as the song reaches its conclusion.

Closer “Choked at the Roots” runs 12:40, seven minutes shorter than the album opener, but in some ways it feels like the most massive track of the trio. Danny’s bass picks up and starts to rumble at the start, as mystical-style guitars create a thick fog through which you must explore the unknown. The song then explodes, with devastating thrashing, wild screams driving into you full force, a black metal feel returning to the melodies, and a sense of unease. The guitars then pick up on a classic heavy metal path, simmering in time-traveled riffs that push you face first into tribal drumming that sounds spiritual and furious at the same time. The final minutes of the song give the band time to do their final bits of pure damage, as they kick up the speed again, slip into a hardcore sense of demolition, blister you with throaty growls and shouts, and eventually let the song burn off as corrosively as possible. It’ll rob you of your breath and your mind, but lucky for your psyche, you’re at the end of the journey.

It took a while for Nux Vomica to get their third album to us, but I doubt they were worried about our patience levels. They took their time, built up their vitriol, and delivered one hell of a record that should get them increased levels of attention and destroy audiences everywhere. This is one mighty force and one of the more punishing records of the year so far. It’s worth your time to lock yourself away and take on this record from front to back as many times as you need it. You’ll be rewarded and damaged more with each listen, which is something you can’t say about every album released these days.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.relapse.com/store.html

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