There are a lot of things in life you can be upset about on a daily basis. Most of them have existed for years. Decades, even. Centuries? Sure. The balance of power in the world never has been more lopsided, people are getting dumber and more ignorant to what’s going on around them, and the Internet has proven to be as much a tool of advancement as it is a way to see the really rotten, awful side of humanity. Sadly, that aspect outweighs the good.

This is why the world needs bands like Cult Leader. These guys don’t sugarcoat anything. Just putting on their records and indulging in a few minutes lets you now right away they are firing buckets of piss, vinegar, and blood, and if they happen to get any of that in an open sore, oh well. It just serves their greater good, which is exposing and eye raking the bullshit about life in general. Having formed from the ashes of Gaza, Cult Leader have gone onto greater heights, enjoyed a more prolific creative life, and have a stranglehold on the miserable, infuriating parts of life. Don’t sweep that shit under the rug, don’t ignore it hoping it’ll go away, and don’t take it. Poke it in the eye and expose those negative forces for the garbage that they are. The hope is other people will pay attention and react the same way.

Based in Salt Lake City, Utah, Cult Leader got started following Gaza’s dissolution (go ahead and Google it if you’d like…), with former member Antony Lucero (who put aside bass duties and took over on vocals for this band), Mike Mason (guitars), and Casey Hansen (drums) forming this new group. Sam Richards then joined the band on bass, and they were off and firing, putting out two EPs—“Nothing for Us Here” in 2014 and “Useless Animal” earlier this year—and now their debut full-length album “Lightless Walk” has arrived to level their listeners all over again. Basically, if you enjoyed the direction Cult Leader were headed on their EPs, you’re going to be right at home on this one, digging into their fury and spite all over again on this 11-track offering. Yet, there are surprising new shades that prove Cult Leader have plenty of tricks up their collective sleeves.

“Great I Am” gets the record off to a perfectly volatile start, with doomy, smeary playing causing great havoc, the song tearing apart and blistering, and scathing savagery taking over. It’s a purely brutal assault, one that feels immediate and bloodthirsty, and it whips by you and into “The Sorrower” with its bleeding noise and crunchy assault. It, too, blows past in no time, firing off savagery madness as it rams right into “Sympathetic.” That track boils and gives off steam, with the drums being plastered, Lucero’s vocals mangling, and the pace of the song leaving you beaten and bruised. “Suffer Louder” is fast and ferocious, with the music burning dangerously and Lucero howling, “The more I suffer, the more I made it.” “Broken Blade” continues the vibe of obliteration, with the song blown apart, causing shrapnel to fly, and the vocals are howled like Lucero is trying to destroy his throat. “A Good Life” is one of two pretty different songs for Cult Leader, with the track hammering slowly, setting up a dark vibe, as Lucero speaks his words, poking with, “My own mother won’t say my name,” as this scarred tale develops. The song bursts toward the end, with the band applying their trademark heaviness, but the first potion of the track and its disturbing themes are impossible to shake.

“Walking Wasteland” brings us back to punishment, as the band brutalizes your senses here, with muddy guitars cutting tributaries in your skin and Lucero wailing, “Time heals nothing!” “Gutter Gods” is over before you even know what hit you. It fires on all cylinders and leaves you dizzy and reeling into “Hate Offering,” which continues the clobbering. The track is thashy and devious, with some parts slowing down in order to stretch out the body blows. “How Deep It Runs” has a more calculated pace as well, with the growls coming harshly and the band hammering away. The guitars really heat up later on, scorching your flesh, as the band continues to double down on the crushing sentiments and push you right into the 7:18 closing title track. This is in a similar vein as “A Good Life,” with clean guitars trickling down and the vocals more spoken than anything. The ambiance is morose and utterly dark, with clean singing spilling in behind the fray and the feel that a complete breakdown is imminent. Yet that doesn’t arrive musically (it sure as hell does emotionally), as the pace remains somber, the vocals are filled with pain, and the track bleeds away, hitting ever harder than it would have had the expected explosion occurred. It’s a totally different side to Cult Leader, one that shows they have far more depth than most of us previously knew.

It’s OK to feel nasty and disappointed by your surroundings, and you don’t just have to stand there and get knocked to the ground. Cult Leader make that abundantly clear on “Lightless Walk,” a record that despite its quieter, more reflective moments, is an angry mouth going for the throat. It’s heavy, unforgiving, and channeled, making the most of their time to deliver a severe body blow to the forces that would hold us down and a message of hope that fighting back can be noble and satisfying.

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

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

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

When I was a kid, I was terrified of the concept of alien abduction, and to make matters worse, I’d purposely watch anything I could find on TV about aliens (which at the time wasn’t much) to the point where I’d have nightmares about encounters. Nights when I was tasked with taking out the trash, I’d walk the cans down our long driveway and run breathlessly through our woods-bordering yard fearing something was behind me and closing in. Something about the terror was exhilarating.

The first time I ever heard Pittsburgh’s Zombi many years ago and their cinematic space rock, it immediately made me think back to those days. There was something about how the synth struck me, the weirdness enveloped in their songs, and the feeling of something from another world permeating my senses that gave me that feeling again. It was terror combined with excitement, and with each subsequent release, I get another chance to relive those moments, nightmare-inducing as they were. On the band’s sixth record “Shape Shift,” there’s more of that eerie, murky stuff to make the blood go cold again. The other thing Zombi always made me think about were old 1980s B sci-fi and horror movies with their strange keyboard-laden soundtracks that made you feel like you were watching something made by people not of this planet. People who originated in a dream. That’s one of the reasons Zombi so often is compared to John Carpenter’s work. It feels like they operate in the same headspace.

One thing that does stand out as being a little different on “Shape Shift” as compared to their other work is it feels more live and spontaneous. The bio notes that accompany the record do point out that Steve Moore (synth, bass) and A.E. Paterra (drums) operated more in the vein of playing like a live band, having come off a successful run playing as support for Goblin and as a headline act at Roadburn. Listening to these nine songs play out, it feels like both guys are in the room playing off of one another, and making their strange music even more cohesive and vibrant.

“Pillars of Dawn” begins the record in a synth haze, with the melodies roaring, feeling like we’re kicking off the opening scene of an alien mission as we’re getting a fleet of ships prepared to go out into the unknown. Sounds pulsate, the keys bubble up, and the noise bleeds out and into “Total Breakthrough.” Here, the band comes off in a similar vein as early 1980s Rush (fun fact: I am listening to the new vinyl repress of “Signals” as I write this), with the bass plodding in, the drums keeping things steady, and mist rising. The intensity continues to build, with the synth lurking and a spirit of the song sweeping you away. “Mission Creep” has keys spiraling in, a thick melody being pushed by the bass, and a snakey rhythm that works its way around the track. “Interstellar Package” is one of the longer songs on here, at 8:34, and it feels like cosmic doom is pouring down on you. Strange spirits appear in the song, as it sets up its haunting mission. In fact, it makes it seem like a UFO is hovering overhead, disorienting and collecting information, before it sends a beam down and captures you. Struggling is useless, so you might as well just cooperate. “Diffraction Zone” has keys jutting to the surface, with the drums keeping us on pace and chilling synth seeming like a cold wind freezing your cells. The bass plods, the keys stay odd, and the whole thing comes to an abrupt end.

“Toroidal Vortices” is built on blipping keys and a melody that’s damn near danceable, if you’re inclined to that kind of thing. The track drives ahead nicely, again reminding of Rush, and as all the elements build to a high, they’re allowed to fade away. “Shadow Hand” gets going with churning bass work, smeared keyboards, and the drums thrashing away. The melodies all seem headed in one direction, but just as you get comfortable, the pace halts and takes a curve, with the keys penetrating and the rest of the song twisting your arms. “Metaverse” begins with keys raining down, a thick fog settling in, and the sensation that you’re traveling through the clouds, trying to find your way through the void. Each element boils, giving off steam, and then eventually fades away. Closer “Siberia II” (the first installment appeared on their 2007 “Digitalis” EP) is the longest cut at 14:40, and it’s in no real hurry to get from point A to point B. Winds pick up and blow through, while the track slowly unfurls and a wooshing, hypnotic display hits the ground. There is a psychedelic sheen to some of this cut, with the pace entering into a repetition designed to stymy. Sounds and layers keep folding on top of each other, as the band achieves a state of total hypnosis they spent nearly 15 minutes building. Just as you’re at your utmost state of mental submission, the sounds blast off into space, you’re deposited on the dewy ground, and you’re left to wonder what exactly happened to your body.

Zombi’s music isn’t exactly metal, but certainly their reach has spilled over in that territory during their time together. “Shape Shift” is another solid dose of cosmic glory, a record that gets better and spookier the closer you listen to sundown. Once the moon is in the sky, all bets are off. You might find me running down the street wailing, worrying I’m being taken away to a new world. Seriously, if you ever see me doing that, call someone. It might really be happening, and I could use your help.

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

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

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

Hey, guess what? I don’t have to work for the next two days. It’s fantastic. I am happy, and I plan to enjoy the autumn air, my time with my wife and animal family, and what the hell, I may have some beers and listen to records. But Monday, that all goes away. How imminently depressing that is, the end of all the fun times. At least for another week.

I’m never really one to bitch when Monday comes around, though. I’ve been unemployed twice for long stretches the past five years, through no fault of my own, and so I always try to remind myself that I could be asleep and wallowing in depression over the fact that my career is dead. When you really sit and think about that, though, that’s also is depressing. Our role here on the planet, through no choice of our own, is to toil endlessly in order to survive. We’re part of a cycle that most of us can’t just opt out of, and if we do, we struggle. Some of us even die. Our need for employment is something that hangs over our head (and causes me unneeded stress because after having two jobs dissolve, every mistake you make is coated in anxiety), and it’s the theme of “Grievances,” the new record from Kowloon Walled City. You can see from the drab, lit factory on the cover of the record that work and the need for gainful employment is an overriding theme, and then hearing these carefully meted-out, frustration-laced tracks hits you in the gut and gives you a major reality check.

KWC is one of those bands I never understood why they didn’t have a bigger following. Come to think of it, I got to know of the band’s music pretty much by chance. A package I received several years ago from the label Perpetual Motion Machine contained with it “Gambling on the Richter Scale,” the band’s second release (their first full-length), and a total revelation to me as a listener. Their sound isn’t easy to pin down, as there’s doom, hardcore, noise rock, post-rock, some metal, and plenty of other elements. Yet none of those things overpowers any other parts, and as time has gone on, they’ve perfected a sound that’s very much become theirs and is instantly recognizable. Now with “Grievances” out on Neurot (CD) and Gilead Media (vinyl), the band has the chance they deserve to align with like-minded drones, who work their weeks away for some relief on the brief weekend. If they’re lucky. Sometimes, work never really ends.

“Your Best Years” strikes you right away, if not from its title then from the presentation. Dry, slow-driving, and jabbing, with vocalist/guitarist Scott Evans howling, “Count off the days, write on the walls, who wants to live this way?” Guitars simmer under the currents (Jon Howell is your other guitarist), with a final burst striking and the song loosening its grip. The title track continues the darkness, with clean guitars flowing into Ian Miller’s thick bass, and Evans layering on the disgust as he prods, “Raise your glass and admit it. You’d draw those bridges, then forget the next minute.” The heaviness kicks in heavier, as does the ill intent and mistrust, as Evans pokes, “We can see your hands move,” another harsh, sobering reminder about who is really in charge. “Backlit” has a nice, drubbing pace, punchy and calculated before guitar wails bustle, strong riffs bubble over, with Jeff Fagundes’ steady drumming pacing the track. “The Grift” is heavier and burlier from the start, with Evans delivering his most forceful vocals on the record, the band thrashing and burning, and then a temporary calm blown apart with the soot spread on the walls.

“White Walls” has a drawn-out feel, but it’s deliberate and meaningful. The song chugs along, as guitar melodies snarl, the bass gets mud thick, and the band keeps pounding away at your will, with Evans howling, “Stay seated! Stay tense! Send a message!” as if he’s trying to rouse a society that has been lulled to sleep. “True Believer” is scathing and blistering, with the vocals coming out like desperate yells, and the music burning and smoking. The guitars spit sparks, while the ball is paced like a steamroller, with the finish triggering anxiety and mental wounds. Closer “Sons and Daughters” is a fitting end, with the guitars sounding more vibrant, a light in the murk that somehow cuts through it all. There’s more of a post-rock edge, with the band pounding rhythmically and Evans admitting, “We never wanted to be so cynical or fatalist.” The feeling is more reflective here, as the track finds its way along, with the band putting the final, trudging touches on a record that understands life a little too intimately.

Kowloon Walled City always have struck a nerve with me because, no matter what they’re writing about, they always find a way to relate their struggles and frustrations to everyday life. You don’t have to be them; you just have to be able to relate. “Grievances” pushes that even further, poking at something that involves all of us and gives everyone some level of stress. The fact that this music is as on-point and aggravated as anything else in their catalog also is a big help in case you don’t feel like playing along. KWC deserve your time, and they’ll pay you back tenfold with musical grit that will stick to your ribs.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://neurotrecordings.merchtable.com/?no_redirect

Or here: http://www.erodingwinds.com/

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

And here: http://www.gileadmedia.net/

How do you describe the indescribable? Giving up isn’t an answer, especially when there’s a record you need to talk about, so how do you go about putting into words the strange emanations that are torturing and blistering your hearing? I guess you just try really hard and hope for the best.

This certainly is not the first time we’ve encountered Ævangelist, the bizarre black metal force that hails from the United States but might as well originate in one of those weird Martian landscape boasting those strings of water. Every time I approached this band when they’ve released new music over the years, it’s always been a challenge. That’s not just from a writing standpoint but as a listener, as well. This band is anything but standard or formulaic, and each of their records finds different ways to baffle you. Their new fourth creation “Enthrall to the Void of Bliss” (released by rock-solid 20 Buck Spin) is as black, spellbinding, and confounding as anything they’ve released to date, and traveling with this album takes you into hellish tunnels and through portals that will leave you questioning whether you’re even alive. It’s an experience unlike any other metal band, merely because no one else of making these kinds of sounds.

While Ævangelist’s lineup is a fluid, ever-changing one in a live setting, the creators here are Matron Thorn, who handles guitars, drums, synth, and the mesmerizing, hallucinogenic harps that glaze the record, as well as Ascaris, who is on vocals, saxophone, piano, and other noises. As noted, describing this record is damn near impossible, as you really have to sit down with this and absorb the madness. I keep imagining I had been hypnotized by some magician of the dark arts, led into corners of existence normally not available to people on the normal planes, and left to stare at colors and images that don’t even have words attached. It’s a really odd adventure you’re on, and don’t be surprised if you find yourself a little overwhelmed as these demonic incantations sweep over you.

The record opens on the wings of “Arcanæ Manifestia,” where guitars sprawl all over, the melodies immediately leave you disoriented, and the growls begin to scatter and scathe. The pace later grows muddy, with maniacal hisses and shrieks pricking your skin, sick swirling threatening to leave the contents of your stomach on the floor, and the music stomping and fading. “Cloister of the Temple of Death” has a pretty great riff getting things going, eerie noises chilling, and echoing, disorienting sounds spilling out. It feels like being in the middle of a codeine syrup-laced dream, with the harps binding your brain, sung chants rising, and eventually heavy thrashing bloodying lips. The back end is plastered with blood-curdling shrieks and a spiral of hell. “Gatekeeper’s Scroll” has guitars marring, gurgling growls that sound like tar collecting in the back of Ascaris’ throat, and a slow-churning assault. Warped singing that feels like it’s coming from the middle of an out-of-body experience emerges, with death growls returning and melodies lapping over it all. “Alchemy” is the oddball, with atmospheric winds whipping, strange beats popping out, and spoken incantations boiling, with Ascaris murmuring, “Souls like water.”

“Levitating Stones” has riffs rushing, strange weeping that feels dark and disturbing, and choral parts coating the background, giving the song a haunting presence. Fierce growls then tear at you, with fucked up patterns stymying your senses, smeared shrieks and warbles adding to the horrors, and the darkness flowing into “Emanation.” There, moans sound like an injured soul, be it physically, mentally, or both, suffering, ending in wet chokes. A black riff starts boiling and tears into the track’s body, rampaging and destroying, eventually imploding and building itself back up again. Monstrous sounds drill you, with the guitars dizzying and hammering away, leaving your world spinning as you dig into 13:37 closer “Meditation of Transcendental Evil.” The harp staggers and strikes, with nearly inhuman cries reaching out and horns stinging your nerves. It’s a hellish display, like you’re in the middle of a dark nightmare from which you’ll emerge deep in fever. There are so many layers of insanity, it’s impossible to even reach a hand to the surface. Cool drum beats and scary ambiance mix and form a different type of a ghoulish being, with everything folding into a noise pit, with sparks flying at you, riffs forming a relentless vortex, and sanity finally emerging as the dark visions finally relent. How you feeling? Pretty discombobulated? Unaware of where or even who you are? Believe it or not, that’s normal.

Ævangelist continue to remain strange players in the metal world, a band that twists and warps sounds, making you wonder if what you’re hearing is music or some sort of transmission from beyond. “Enthrall to the Void of Bliss” is a step further into their vortex of madness and a creation even they won’t be able to repeat. With 20 Buck Spin behind them, hopefully “Enthrall to the Void of Bliss” can get even more traction in the States and find a larger helping of people to terrify.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.20buckspin.com/collections/music

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

Photo by Kathleen Kennedy

The world is not a very easy place in which to live. Shit, the United States can be the most frustrating, maddening, just-give-up plane of existence anywhere, despite our endless, somewhat hollow boasts about it being the greatest country in the world. Hardly a day goes by where I don’t want to place my head down and end up somewhere more peaceful and accepting, later realizing that would probably be somewhere not of this planet.

So we carry on, and despite the daily reminders of just how fucked we are in this existence, it’s not like life doesn’t also have its wonderful moments that align heart, mind, and spirit. You just have to find a sense of calm and understanding for yourself, a proverbial silver lining in a blackened sky that seems to offer no sense of hope. That is something that’s hit me pretty hard the past couple of weeks considering what’s been in the news as well as the comic coincidence that I had been listening pretty frequently to “Litany,” the second record from Texas-based septet Dead to a Dying World. The band’s new record, a follow-up to their 2011 self-titled debut, is comprised of six movements that struggle to find that positivity and hope in the middle of a dark sea in which it feels like the only thing surrounding is the lack of humanity and the death of compassion. They obviously feel this too, but instead of wallowing and dying in it, they push through and create a triumphant, Western-dusted dose of doom that feels expansive, wonderfully creative, and completely defiant of giving into hopelessness. It’s a perfect soundtrack for what I’d been feeling lately and never once failed to lift my spirit.

Anyone familiar with this band knows that a journey with them is not a simple one. There are many layers and twists and turns that keep you awake and alert. “Litany” is a record that, while quite lengthy, should be experienced beginning to end with no breather. It sweeps you up and lets you feel the hellish lows followed by the triumphant highs. The band—vocalists Mike Yeager (ex-Scavenger) and Heidi Moore (formerly of Ecocide), guitarists Sean Mehl and Greg Prickett, bassist James Magruder (ex-Embolization), viola player Eva Vonne (also of Sabbath Assembly), and drummer Cyrus Meyers (formerly of The Fear of the Sun)—weave amazing Apocalyptic tapestries on this record, their sound fairly indescribable but should appeal to fans of bands as varied as Across Tundras, ISIS, Murder By Death, and Neurosis. This feels like dusty doom theater, music that crushes and thrashes but also provides a nighttime desert-laced vibe, where you stare at the night sky wondering where you must go next just in order to survive mentally. This record is so gigantic, in fact, that three labels are dealing this thing, with Gilead Media, Tofu Carnage, and Alerta Antifascista all bringing this thing into the world.

“The Hunt Eternal” opens the record, a 16:44 journey that begins with noise and strings before it bursts. Harsh shrieks rain down, bringing the abrasion along with them, before calm settles and clean singing emerges. Obviously with a song this long, there are plenty of tempo changes, going from loud to soft, and moments even feel a little woodsy. Moore’s vocals then take over, as the serenity continues but a storm is on the horizon, and once it strikes, it brings energy and fury, with monstrous vocals poking at your raw wounds. A fog then rises, dark rumbling situates underground, and the strings drop a curtain over everything. “Cicatrix” has a quiet, murky opening, with group singing blending, and darkness settles in that’s both ghostly and theatrical. The song also has that aforementioned Western feel, making it seem like you’re on a chilly nighttime walk all alone. “Eventide” goes 14:23, and it trickles in slowly with strings and a moderate pace. The vocals then poke, feeling barked and brawny, as an Americana-style melody takes over. The song is sweeping and gripping, with the tale being roared, and the music causing the earth to quake. The track eventually works its way out of stormy waters, bouncing calmly and floating off into the darkness.

“Beneath the Loam” is the second-longest cut at 16:32, and light guitar and strings begin to soak the ground. The song bolts open, as every element rages with fire and the vocals feel like they’re pounding their way through your chest. Later, the track delves close to black metal terrain, and riffs surge in a flurry, coating you with chaos and making you fear for your well-being. Things then get morbid and morose, lurking along and making your bones ache. That flow remains calculated until things start to boil again, as the vocals are utterly savage, the strings cry out in pain, and the band hits a gazey rambling that’s ferocious and infectious. “Sick and Sunder” is another shorter song (then again, 5:52 is long for many other bands) that’s built on dusty, eerie sounds, guitars drizzling, Vonne’s viola moaning, and a deep cloud cover setting in and stretching into 14:33-long closer “Narcissus.” The start of the song is moody before sparks fly and the band hits full throttle. The band hammers heavily, laying waste to everything around them before settling into a peaceful stretch that’s incredibly atmospheric. More jolts strike, as clean singing leads the way and starts to paint a picture of defiant strength, as the line, “The blade is sharp against my throat,” insists the idea of flinching or blinking in the eye of death is unthinkable. The final moments are beautiful, glorious, and battle-worn, giving the sense that while some battles were lost, the long war can be won.

This record might not soothe everything that ails you all the time, but I’ll be damned if “Litany” hasn’t made a ton of sense at a time when stress with dealing with humanity has been at its highest. Dead to a Dying World’s mission is worthy and volcanic, one that fits into much of the metal landscape that inspired them but also stands atop as something totally different. There may not be a permanent solution to life’s ending frustrations, but having a band like Dead to a Dying World that understands and can translate your woes into music is a helpful thing to have when you feel like you’re the only person inhabiting a corner of the world flooded with hopelessness. They get it, and they just may have an answer for you.

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

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

Or here: http://www.erodingwinds.com/

Or here: http://www.doomrock.com/

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

And here: http://www.gileadmedia.net/

And here: https://www.facebook.com/Alerta-Antifascista-Records-official-128382047223480/timeline/

Photo by Invisible Hour

The more I hear music that makes me stop and pay attention, the happier I am. I know we’ve been over this ad nauseam, but being a writer who is inundated with releases on a daily basis, getting music to grab you is by no means automatic. In fact, it often falls into that “pleasant surprise” category.

Spending some time with “The Camel, The Lion, The Child” by He Whose Ox Is Gored was one of those experiences for me. That didn’t come as a surprise, really. So maybe I’m undoing my opening. Anyhow, poring through these eight tracks that spill over about an hour was a true pleasure, an experience with heavy music that will not be matched by any other band this year. That is so refreshing. I love a lot of the music I hear each week, hence even having this site, but this is one of those that made me think less like a critic and more like a person who enjoys music and a colorful journey. This record packs that, mixing death, doom, prog, and post-metal seamlessly and promising anyone who encounters it that they’re not in for the run-of-the-mill, hear-it-and-it’s-done release. You’ll come back, and when you do, you’ll notice plenty of things you didn’t the first time. Or the second. Or the third. Come to think of it, this can be a theme for this week’s writings, because the offerings are rich for this kind of thing.

He Whose Ox Is Gored hail from Seattle and boast one of those lineups that is not nearly as large as the expansive music hints it should be. Brian McClelland handles guitars and vocals; Lisa Mungo is on synth and vocals; Mike Sparks provides bass and vocals; while John O’Connell is behind the kit. They make a damn huge sound, the four of them, one that weaves in and out of peaks and valleys, coming off as something you can’t quite pinpoint. The band has been together since 2009, releasing their first EP “Op Amps” a year later and following that up with “Op Amps II: Into the Ether,” produced by Tad Doyle. Their “Nightshade” EP arrived after that, with their “Rumors” 7” coming out last year, paving the way for this gargantuan new full-length. Now you’re caught up.

“Oathbreaker” is your first taste of the record, combining spacey oddness with proggy riffs and rushing keys that churn and develop a nice, cool atmosphere. A quick burst of growls are the only words you hear, and then we head into “Omega.” This punchy, synth-swept piece starts paving its path, leading toward aggressiveness and crunch. By the way, speaking of the keys, they play a major role on this album. They provide texture, lush air, and a cosmic spirit that are crucial to making these songs what they are. Really nice touch. Anyhow, the back end of the song reminds a bit of Cult of Luna, as the throaty yells and exploratory riffs push their way and bleed into “Crusade.” The keys rise to the surface, while the song gets heavier and more aggressive, with singing and howls meeting up with wrenching growls. The pace calms, with strange keyboard woven in and Mungo singing, feeling something like a warped Yes song. This leads into “Zalatype” that has a carefully paced introduction, keys whirring, and the song opening up, with the vocals advising, “Raise the all-knowing eye!” The final moments are both heavy and gothically inspired, blasting its way to the finish.

“Alpha” swims in sounds at the start, with clean guitars trickling in and washed-out vocals that give the song an alien feel. Later the track blows up, as harsh growls rip into the scene, and prog-fueled riffs churn and spiral. Riffs erupt from “Magazina” right from the start, with howled vocals, synth bleeding heavily, and the playing getting tricky and crazed, making your mind spin and your body ache. It’s one of the most aggressive songs on the record, and gives you a good rumbling before the first of two epics, the 7:16 “Cairo.” The track slowly comes to life, with keys glimmering and creating an imaginative setting before the song blasts open, playing and toying with tempos and your mind. The tempo does a lot of switching back and forth, from flowing calm paths to volcanic highs, all the while building layers impossible to dig through to the bottom. The final moments go cold, as a sense of calm returns and slowly fades. The 9:12 finale “Weighted By Guilt, Crushed Into a Diamond” (and who can’t relate to that title?) has guitars dripping in, murky synth creating a haze, and Mungo’s moody vocals pushing the way, making you feel every ounce of the struggle. That cloudiness doesn’t last forever, as a lightning bolt of sound jolts the thing, with vocals turn to wild howls, and you feel like you’re being rolled over and over into mud and glass. While there are passages of serenity, most of the song’s final minutes are pounding and penetrating, with growls whipping at you and the sounds burning to the finish line.

He Whose Ox Is Gored not only have put together a great record with “The Camel, The Lion, The Child,” they’ve created something that truly stands out in a sea of albums released this year. There is heaviness, serenity, wildness, and restraint, and it’s an album that never feels the same way twice. Hopefully this record will open more people’s eyes to this band and swell their following.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://bleedinglightrecords.bigcartel.com/artist/he-whose-ox-is-gored

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

Some things come at you from out of nowhere, with no previous hype, no warning whatsoever, and not even a inkling at what’s about to be at your feet. It’s refreshing and a little bit scary to go into something with no background or idea of what’s ahead, but that also can be enthralling. Slate arrives clean.

Shrine of Insanabilis’ debut record “Disciples of the Void” was kind of like that. Sure, I’m used to getting promo material from WTC Productions, and generally it’s quality and completely terrifying. But this band was something a little different. They formed just this year, there is no lineup announced (only a photo of four shadowy figures), and nothing else to go on but the music contained inside. Imagine that: Forming an opinion on something purely out of what you hear and not based on what each member has done outside the band on in their private lives. The band apparently is obsessed with the concept of voids, itself a scary, mysterious subject matter, and funny enough, it’s like the band emerged from inside of such space.

The material here is ferocious and wonderfully in line with pure black metal. It has its strange, icy ways, no doubt, but if you’re a fan of just being bludgeoned by sound, you’re bound to be pleased by “Disciples of the Void.” The music is harsh, fast, violent, and twists and turns you in the nightmarish vortex they create. This record even has double coverage as far as labels go, with WTC (CD and digital) and awesome Stateside label Fallen Empire (vinyl) each working to get this German band’s horrors out into the world. That extra effort will be well worth it.

“End All” is the strange, ominous opening that swirls all over and eventually begins to blister, leading into “Ruina” that bursts open at the seams. The harsh vocals crush heavily, with the music coming off speedy and relentless, and everything is ripped apart. The vocals are ratcheted up a notch, as the band starts rumbling, the pace is wrenching, and the song comes to a dramatic conclusion, with blood rushing everywhere. “Acausal Paths” has riffs racing hard, with an infusion of melody adding color, and the vocals sounding like they’re mangling the messenger’s throat. The pace starts to settle, like a cloud cover is hanging overhead threatening downpour, and from there the soloing begins to rage, and the band clobbers everything in front of it. Strange instrumental “………..” is chilling and morbid, with a preacher howling over top, threatening damnation, and that sets up “Invocation,” which erupts totally from the word go. The growls are ferocious, which is no surprise, with melodies lapping up, feedback surging, and slow pounding suffocating. Guitars stretch out and scorch, with weird speaking growls lurching, the tempo blowing up, and the final moments torching the hairs on your arm.

“Still of This Earth” is a swelling, fiery epic at 9:44, and it launches with a slow open, with the band taking time to set the mood, boiling and stinging you with their playing. Then it rips open, with maddening growls scraping and the band stomping along with blood thirst. We later slip into cold, calculating waters, as the music rains down, the path suddenly swirls and sickens, and the band conjures a devastating ending that could end cities. “Cycles and Circles” keeps the vertigo in place, especially as the guitars take a tornadic path, and the vocals feel downright sinister. Again, there are colorful melodies to add different dashes to their horrific style, and the dark riffs that build up at the back end pile on the mud and death. “Acerbus” drills and penetrates, eating away at your psyche as the band packs on gruff growls, the mid-tempo pace burns, and a mystical sense gushes free, engulfing the song and washing out the insanity. Closer “Omega” is a quick conclusion built on noise zaps, solemn keys, and guitars blinding, as the track, and the entire document, echoes to a finish.

Shrine of Insanabilis is a breath of dank, dismal air, and their “Disciples of the Void” is a furious entrance into the world, where black metal could use a vicious wake-up call. While the band is transfixed with the concept of nothingness, their music is anything but that. It’s a towering inferno of passion, a collection of incantations that should haunt and leave you battered. The thick layer of mystery over the band only enhances the strangeness of their black mission.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://w-t-c.web-republic.de/store/

Or here: http://store.fallenempirerecords.com/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.w-t-c.org/

And here: http://www.fallenempirerecords.com/

This time of the year is peculiar for me. I love that the weather is hinting colder, that rains last longer and result in breezes rather than steam. I appreciate watching the warmest season of the year fade away and enter decay. It’s also a strange one for me because, as an active, practicing hypochondriac, I know the season of illness is approaching, which always makes me apprehensive of my surroundings.

That’s a weird one, if you can’t relate. The fear of the invisible that can attack your insides, leaving you vulnerable. Washing your hands to a bloody mess is not pleasing, and it’s not always fun to be me sometimes. Yet I try not to let that take away from the appreciation of the seasons and the colder months, when I often do my most intimate music listening. It’s an ideal time to peel away the layers and get more in touch with what’s inside you and that temporary nakedness of nature. Therefore, I always find myself poring through music, trying to find albums in which I can disappear and transform. It takes away from irrational fear, and it reminds me again why I devote so much of my time to metal and its surroundings. I had my first real, profound experience like that this part of the year with Blood of the Black Owl’s new record “WARmth,”one of the most intriguing in that project’s entire collection.

Over the course of five full-lengths and several smaller releases, Chet W. Scott has taken his Blood of the Black Owl project and made it one of the most interesting in all of music. Forget just metal. His canvas is much larger than what a genre or sub-genre provides, and he has expanded that thinking again with the 92-minute “WARmth,” a record that takes some time to fully expose itself. I’ve had the album since around its August release date, and while I like to get on the record closer to when music officially reaches the world, I decided to take my time here. That idea really paid off for me as a listener and a writer. Many may know BotBO for the wrenching, often bizarre-sounding black metal of albums past, and that’s very much a part of the DNA. What you hear continues a path set with “Spirit Canoe: Hailing Father Sky,” the companion EP to 2012’s “Light the Fires!” itself an evolutionary step forward for this project. The music also harkens back to Scott’s Ruhr Hunter (which became Cycle of the Raven Talons) and is music that is rooted in indigenous sounds, nature’s glory, medicinal chants, spiritual awakenings, and ritualistic incantations that will leave you both mesmerized and connected to something you perhaps never considered before. This record is lovely, enrapturing, and invigorating, and despite this project’s past, you cannot assign a label to what you hear on “WARmth.” It must be experienced, not described (even though I’m about to do just that).

“Two Feathers Become Nauthiz” opens the record, and at 16:08, it’s a very involved adventure. Joined by Rachel Boaz-Scott on vocals, the acoustic-led passage slowly makes its way along, with the two chanting, “Awaken,” before harsh cries ring out, woods ambiance makes it presence felt, and even some cosmic weirdness rears its head and smears the colors. The desperation builds, with Chet Scott wailing, “Your spirit comes to me through wood,” as the fires begin to burn anew, sounds churn, voices chant, and the plea, “I ask for your protection,” hangs in the air as the song fades. “Obsidian Clearing Through Dawn” plays a little louder, with whistles rumbling, acoustics rising, and droning voices harmonizing and buzzing through you. Melodies later emerge, as the sky grows cloudy, and then we’re off to “Rise: A Path Towards Seeing” that has shakers, whistles, and singing to rouse your soul. There are wails of, “Rise!” that come along with choral harmonies, making you feel as if you’re at the very foot of a ritual. “The Medicine Within” is a 13:17 sojourn that begins with hushed guitars, dueling layered vocals (clean struggling with gruff), and a haunting, emotional uprising, with horns leading the charge, and the declaration, “It’s time to live again,” followed by soft calls of, “It’s time to seek ourselves.” The tempo calms, knocks provoke, and we round back to an acoustic melody that takes the song to its end. “Hold Horizon Inside” has water trickling to start, with trippy vocal harmonies, droning noises coming from Scott’s throat, and a mesmerizing haze that feels comforting and mind-aligning.

“Shadow Vision: An Illumination of Black Fire!” follows, and its 10:10 trip starts in the arms of lush organs that spill into acoustics and cosmic eeriness. The singing is boisterous here, really pushing through and grabbing you, while much of the music is hushed and folky. Again we’re treated to clouds that seem to have swept in from the stars (a touch I really like), as more growling takes over, letting the feral intensity and calm mix together and fade away. “Solitude: Flame Rekindled Spirit” opens with more water rushing, with Scott noting, “Under the new moon, her senses fill my blood.” Horns blurt out, seeming to signal the arrival of another force, and then the track bursts to life. Acoustic guitars are strummed with might, whistles cry out, a sense of celebration is in the air, and gurgling howls lead the track to its final resting spot. “Luminous in WARmth” has a folk-infused start before it pushes ahead, with whistles firing, strange, psyched-out singing that feels trance-inducing, and chants rolling in again, with recitation of “burning is learning.” That heads into a dreamy sequence that brings a sense of tranquility, setting the stage for the finale “Totems of Transformation.” Acoustic picking rises while bells are struck, with Scott singing quietly, thoughtfully, “If you talk to the animals, they will talk with you,” giving you some insight into a profound connection with nature. Psyche bursts arrive, filling the sky with color and stars you want to stare at for hours. Noises build, growls return to the mix, and some of the words are barked harshly, as if Scott is getting in touch with his animalistic spirit as the track rumbles to its finish.

Unabashedly, I am a big fan of Scott’s music, and I appreciate that with every step in Blood of the Black Owl’s progression, we go somewhere different, unexplored, unimaginable. There are times when I listen to this record that I feel like the music is encircling me, like a restless spirit hoping to rustle me away so I can be enlightened or at least in touch with something more meaningful than the bulk of what makes up everyday life. Fears dissipate, I am awakened, and the primal energy that greets me with every visit to “WARmth” keeps me inspired as a listener and eager to keep taking this journey as the cold melts in warmth again.

For more on the band and to buy the album, go here: https://glassthroatrecordings.bandcamp.com/album/warmth

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