Photo by Mike Petzinger

We cover pure metal, in all its forms, just about every day on this site. So, the opportunities we get to branch a little beyond that (and we’re going to do it a couple times this week) always are worthwhile. There’s a nice bit of music out there that, while not necessarily 100 percent metal in formula can appeal to this audience as well as many others.

I was intrigued with Philly-based Ruby the Hatchet pretty much from the first time I was introduced to them. Their doomy rock and psychedelic fire definitely fit in with what we do here, but it can reach out and pull in plenty of other types of music fans. That was proved when the band had road stints with artists as varied as Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats and Black Mountain, two bands that stand apart sonically but also have a lot in common. Just like Ruby and the Hatchet. The band ups its game significantly on their new record “Planetary Space Child,” the follow-up to 2015’s rock-solid “Valley of the Snake” and an album that finds them soaring musically and mentally into the cosmos. You can turn on this record late at night—strong libations encouraged but not necessary—and take an amazing journey in your mind along with the music. The band—vocalist Jillian Taylor, guitarist Johnny Scarps, bassist Lake Muir, organist Sean Hur, and drummer Owen Stewart—sounds stronger than ever on this collection, and what they achieve in their powerful live shows, they transfer to this album.

The title track gets the record going, as weird cosmic sounds bleed in, and the first three minutes are dedicated to building the mood. Taylor finally begins her part of the tale, pointing, “Your mind has a weakness,” as she really begins to take off. The track soars, the music turns into a psyche jam out, and the whole thing comes to a stomping end. “Killer” adds menace, as the riffs and devious organ form to make something that would make Deep Purple proud. “Voices tell me where to go,” Taylor wails, finally admitting, “I’m a killer,” amid eeriness and crunch. “Pagan Ritual” starts with mesmerizing playing that topples the mind, while the song finally kick starts and gets the juices flowing. The band changes pace on you a few times, keeping things interesting, while the guitars are trippy and fiery over an extended section of playing. Out of that, the music keeps bubbling and eventually flows over the rim.

“The Feel” is the oddball of the bunch, as haunting organs and steamy guitars join up, and once Taylor unloads, the whole thing takes on a Fleetwood Mac vibe. The guitars cut through, as the band goes on another jam session, and the final moments add fuel to the blinding fire. “Symphony of the Night” is the longest track at 7:09, and it has a clean, almost gentle start. Powerful singing is layered over top, as the organ infects, and the band heads toward a doomy, mind-altering sound cave. The guitars begin to gain steam, as a massive solo rips out of that, and Taylor’s powerful pipes add extra bits of power as the song reaches its finish. “Gemini” feels like a road burner, one you’d blast in the midday sun while heading off to nowhere down a desolate highway. The organs drive, as psychedelic smoke rises, and Taylor adds the exclamation point, wailing, “They’re telling me it’s time to die!” Closer “Lightning Comes Again” is a seven-minute ballad that pours steam and intensity. The track emerges from the fog, as the song builds its intensity slowly until its eventual bursting point. “You’re living with the dead,” Taylor prods, as guitars well up and apply pressure, the vocals continue to swelter, and the entire band brings the song to a fire-breathing crescendo.

Ruby the Hatchet slowly have been making their name and turning heads, and “Planetary Space Child” should cause a ton of neck jerks in their direction. This is a thunderous, psyche-drenched adventure from front to back, and each song stands on its own but also adds to solidifying the record as a whole. Everything about this music works on every level, and it’s the finest achievement in this band’s young career.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://teepeerecords.com/collections/frontpage

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

The presence of great adventures is something that has made heavy metal a great form of music for decades. Consider bands such as Iron Maiden, Helloween, Mercyful Fate, Bathory, and those who like to weave tales and revisit history, and you have some of the genre’s best storytellers ever. Metal doesn’t have quite as many of these bands at the forefront now, but they’re out there.

One such band is Sons of Crom, the Finnish duo that’s near the beginning of its run but that already has created some compelling, adventure-soaked metal. They’re back with their excellent second record “The Black Tower,” their first for the two-headed beasts of Bindrune Recordings and Nordvis Produktion, where they could not possibly be more at home. Vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Janne Posti and drummer/vocalist Iiro Sarkki follow up their tremendous debut effort “Riddle of Steel” with an eight-track record that’s compelling and gripping right from the start. The band pushes past the narrative of “Steel” to this tale, where our protagonist is on a quest to find truth beyond the mortal realm, a place of no time, space, life, or death. It’s a mysterious, enthralling journey, and every moment drips with metallic wonder splashed with bits of classic, black, death, and folk styles of metal.

“Steps of Doom” starts the record in ominous fashion, as the music sounds like it’s the opening theme for a film about great, time-altering battles and history-honored warriors fighting for everything they hold dear. Thick synth and stirring strings pulsate, as deep, Viking-style singing blend into “In Fire Reborn,” a rousing song that has a glorious pace and a fantastic flow. We start with Enslaved-style verses, with shrieked vocals and jarring melodies, and then it’s on to the soaring chorus. They follow that path, later delivering one of the most rousing sections of singing on the entire record, a passage that will make your blood surge. Folk-style strings arrive and add texture, and a calm path with echoing chants conjure spirits. Later, guitars intermingle and create blinding lights, and the track ends on a gigantic, mountain-toppling note. “Fall of Pandemonium” mixes strings and classic-style guitar riffs, feeling like the ghost of every era of metal combining. Strong singing drives the pace, while fiery soloing, storming melodies, and a death-defying tempo bring the song to an end. “Legacy” calms things a bit, as acoustic guitars march in, and lush strings sweep over everything. Rousing folkish singing emerges, making the heart race, and the urging of, “Dark mother, let your banners fly,” feels both liberating and galvanizing.

“Black Wings Up High” has vocals bellowing and the band pounding through, with a heavy prog edge to the whole thing. The chorus is one that’ll etch itself in your brain and play over and over after you’ve finished listening, while a voice speaks asking its followers to spread wisdom before the track comes to a gushing finish. “Summoning the Starborn” has majestic synth blowing in at the start, before the song gets punchy and direct. “Time, we meet again,” is called over a base built with a tempered pace, deep crooning, and some tremendous soloing that should fan classic fires. Later, keys glaze again before the track is gutted, grim growls lay waste, and the song ends in the eye of a storm. “Viimeinen Laki” has a melodic burst before the singing goes cold, only to be met with terrifying howls. Those grim growls echo in the wind, while quiet acoustics later mix into the pattern before the song is engulfed in flames again. The leads cut through, while the soloing burns, leaving a tall plume of smoke in the dark night, and then its essence is sucked into space for good. Closer “Rebirth of the Sun” is a rustic instrumental, a calming curtain dropper on our tale complete with swollen strings, heartfelt melodies, and a thunderstorm arriving and soaking the ground.

Sons of Crom have a firm grasp of what made metal such a fun escape in the first place, and “The Black Tower” is another chapter into the band’s sojourn. With two great records under their belt and a solid footing in storytelling and fantastical image conjuration, these guys can help be that thing that carries you away from what ails you and transports you elsewhere. This band is both heavy and creative, and their commitment to soaring epics should carve them a permanent place in metal lore.

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

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

Or here: https://www.nordvis.com/sons-of-crom-a-21

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

And here: https://www.nordvis.com/

There aren’t a whole lot of homecoming stories when it comes to the metal world. It’s a scene that just doesn’t lend itself to that kind of thing a whole lot. Yeah, we had Dickinson rejoin Maiden and Halford back with Priest, but those stories are ages old now that they’re distant history.

After years away from their primary home, Incantation have found their way back to Relapse as vicious and devastating as ever with their new record “Profane Nexus.” Having delivered their first three genre-toppling death platters on Relapse, including all-time classic “Onward to Golgotha” in 1992, Incantation return a different, yet no less violent machine. The band has shed band members like some people shed cells, but guitarist/vocalist John McEntee (a goddamn fixture in the crowd at any metal show in Pittsburgh worth its salt) remains from the original lineup, and around him are beasts including longtime drummer Kyle Severn, guitarist Sonny Lombardozzi, and bassist Chuck Sherwood. This unholy quartet bursts with hellish life on these 11 tracks, spreading their brand of doom-encrusted death metal chaos over nearly 43 minutes of punishment.

“Muse” is a mauling, gurgling opener, with McEntee growling infernally along with guitars that make you go dizzy, and eventually a pace that feels like a zombie walk. Later, the track ignites again, as the band tears at the flesh and prepares you for “Rites of the Locust.” There, the track stomps through the mud while guitars spill over the chorus, guttural, ugly vocals spit blood, and the track comes to a mad, thrashing end. “Visceral Hexahedron” is ominous from the start and pours doom tar, as the tempo grinds slowly, and the rhythm section bashes your skull. Brief ignitions always lead back to the painful dragging over cinders, as mean growls and disorientation bring things to a merciful end. “The Horns of Gefrin” has guitars spiraling and a manic assault delivered, as the vocals strangle, and the song chugs heavily. The music simmers in carnage before the hammers are dropped on skulls. “Incorporeal Despair” churns and squeezes, with eerie guitars dripping, gritty growling, and what feels like a true horror soundtrack reaching out its arms and pulling you into hell.

“Xipe Totec” is shockingly short at 1:08, but it blasts its way in and does ample damage while it lasts. The track is an explosive gasp, as guitars squeal in pain, and the band lets out total demolition. “Lus Sepulcri” trudges and blazes at the same time, as tormenting vocals and a war-torn approach level you. The soloing melts all over, burning flesh, while the back end has a thrashy, animalistic vibe. “Stormgate Convulsions From the Thunderous Shores of Infernal Realms Beyond the Grace of God” takes a long time to say but not as much to absorb, as it’s a short instrumental built on weird space fuzz and sci-fi-style noise, and that leads into “Messiah Nostrum” that mixes doom and psychedelics, a strong outburst that has twisted growls and guitars giving off amazing heat. The song stomps over its final minutes, ending in a lake of mud. “Omens to the Altar of Onyx” lands heavy lefts and rights, a chewy as fuck track that again takes you down doomy passages. Growls choke, while the guitars work together to sicken, with the track coming to a crushing finish. “Ancients Arise” finishes the album on a slow-rolling, eerie assault, with the bulk of the song pulverizing the senses, and the marching done with cement shoes. The track is meaty and thrashy for the bulk of it, giving this record a drubbing end.

Incantation prove on their 11th record that the death flames still rage within their hearts, and they aren’t anywhere near being extinguished. “Profane Nexus” is a satisfying, blistering record from one of death’s all-time greats, a band that has set the pace for the genre the past 30 years and continue to be worthy contributors. We must hold these bands close while we have them with us, and the fact Incantation is back to their original spawning point only serves to make this opus that much bloodier and fitting.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.relapse.com/incantation-profane-nexus/

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

Photo by Rock and Roll Socialite (http://www.rocknrollsocialite.com/)

Feeling miserable has become a theme as of late. Things feel like they’re on a malaise autopilot as the news keeps getting worse, and the worst people of all time continue to rear their disgusting little heads. Has there ever been a better time for angry music that hits the nail right on its rusty head?

So, it’s a perfect opening for new music from Baltimore hardcore/thrash unit Lifetime Shitlist, and they’re back with their pummeling new EP “Slow March.” From the grim cover art to the songs that greet you on this seven-track basher, you can feel their frustration and nausea as well, and they make for good company during these lousy times. Ever since their last release “Pneumaticon,” Lifetime Shitlist have retooled their lineup, adding a second guitarist Corey Fleming and replacing Dave Pennington on vocals with the mighty Ned Westrick. Guitarist Matt Crocco, bassist Ryan Larkin, and drummer Bryan Glaeser remain the round out what’s now a more formidable version of the band, one that sounds like it’s ready to spread its mission to even more people.

“Cabal” tears the lid off the record as noise waves pave the path for chunky guitar chugs and disorienting melodies before the tempo starts to destroy, and gruff wails from Westrick settle into the mix. The track is crunchy and mean, with the band mixing thrash and hardcore seamlessly, and a final dose of sound slips over a diatribe about domestic counterterror policies. “Beach of Death” bashes its way open, with gruff vocals and thickening guitars threatening. Menacing shouts and a bludgeoning pace leaves everything in the dust. “Infestation” has thick basslines and riffs chewing at raw meat, while Westrick howls about removing one’s head from the sand and taking up torches. Southern-style guitars thicken the soloing, while Westrick howls about being “alive for the very first time.”

“Death Rattle” begins with guitars that give off a rad ’80s vibe, only to have thrashy riffs punch gigantic holes in the wall and barge into the scene. Some wah pedal damage curves the melodies, and then the guitars take on a thick, smoky stoner vibe. For the back end of the song, the band goes back to bristling crunching, doing some miserable bruising. “Heavy Gravitation” is fast, grimy, and gruff, with the guitar work turning everything to splinters, and the band splattering chaos. “Slow March” is calculated and rough, with barked vocals and cold harshness. As the story goes on, the heaviness continues to multiply, and the track has a fiery finish. “God of Storms” brings the record to an end, as bass and guitars circle and clash, and a nasty hardcore vibe is achieved. The low end is forceful and devastating, while the roars are menacing, and the song has an unforgiving end.

Lifetime Shitlist are compiling an impressive resume over their relatively short run together, and “Slow March” is a collection showing a band that is realizing its powers. These songs are urgent, angry, and volatile, and this is one record where fans of metallic and hardcore circles should be able to come together for a bloody night. This is heavy, violent stuff, and it’ll leave you good and maimed.

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

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

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

Metal is the music of great beasts, and I don’t think there is anyone who could deny that. We have Behemoths and Mastodons making music, the devil’s shit is all over this stuff, and any type of overgrown, disgusting giant is easy fodder for fantasy-style lyrics or for colorful album artwork that, if displayed in a store, should stand out.

But what about music that sounds like it was made by beasts? Edmonton death/thrash unit Phylactery has that element covered on their devastating debut record “Necromancy Enthroned.” If I was told that this music was made by four creatures with hooved feet and horns protruding from their skulls, I wouldn’t exactly bat an eye. These 11 songs are punishing and deadly, easily stuff that could be deemed beyond the reach of mortal men and into the world of monsters. Alas, it’s but three guys—vocalist/drummer K.T., guitarist T.G., and bassist J.M.—making this hellacious noise, and their riff-heavy, nasty approach makes these things sometimes feel like it’s all flowing into one bloody stew. It’s easy to lose track over this nearly 35-minute punishment session, as your skull is bounced from wall to floor, like you’re being attacked by Skeletor during one of his more potent assaults. Not that it’s a bad thing.

“Risen Restless Dead” kicks off the madness with charging riffs and menacing growls, as K.T. demands his minions to, “Rise!” Clean playing streams in momentarily before everything fires up again suddenly and then heads toward “Wisdom of Heretics,” where strong guitars and thrash violence meet you and head right for the throat. The vocals sound delivered by a manic goblin out for blood, as the words are spat with venom, as K.T. demands you, “Die!” “Fulminations” has a satisfying, almost nostalgic old school thrash bend to it, as the song speeds ahead, and K.T. howls, “We will devour your name!” The basslines give black eyes, as the track comes to a furious end. “Morbid Existence” pulls no punches, as it’s a fast blast complete with raspy growls and chugging riffs. The assault remains mean and channeled throughout, as K.T. wails, “Die and die again!” to hammer home their ill intent. “King of Ruin” is another blistering attack, where nasty growls rip at the flesh, and guitars stab every vulnerable spot.

“Where I Dwell” has drums rumbling through the gates, guitars chewing muscle, and growls lurking mysteriously under the surface. “Enslaved by the Dawn” is calculated and vicious, as the bass rollicks underneath the din, the growls threaten lives, and a sudden shift change toward the end sends the song into a mad gallop. “Eyes of Fear and Flame” has drums rolling in and clobbering bodies, while the riffs send blinding lightning, and K.T.’s growls sound delivered from a throat lacerated by war cries. Every bit of this is fast and aiming to take your breath from your lungs. “Bubonic Undeath” fades in from the darkness before exploding outright. From there, it’s a death march, as the growls sound like they’re gurgling through blood, and some classic metal flourishes are tacked on for good measure. “Unholy Empire” rips apart, as it’s fast and gnarly, with the vocals unleashing grit. Their thrashing is well meted out, reddening the skin, and some evil-sounding chuckles and a bashing finish add pain and take you into closing cut “Eat of My Disease.” As you can deduce from the title, things are misery inducing and disgusting, as the vocals scrape along and the guitars trudge heavily. “Humankind is made in our image, born just to die!” K.T. growls as the song rounds it way to its mashing finish.

Phylactery’s music is made by monsters for people who want to be terrified of what’s coming out of their speakers. These guys give you exactly that on “Necromancy Enthroned,” an ugly, devastating platter of songs that fly by in an instant but still leave ample bruising. Nothing here is pretty. It’s all blood, puss, and broken bones, just the way thrash and death are meant to be.

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

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

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

A few years ago, the universe George Lucas created with “Star Wars” essentially was wrestled away from him and placed in what most hoped would be better hands. Still, it was strange to accept this ongoing story without its primary creative visionary at the helm, and happy as many people were, it wasn’t until we saw the final product on screen that people let loose a sigh of relief.

It’s been five years since Arthur von Nagel left Cormorant, and the band now is on their second release without him in the fold. Honestly, it was weird at first when the group carried on, releasing 2014’s “Earth Diver” to an audience of people who didn’t know what would greet them. The results were pretty good, but now that they have returned with massive “Diaspora,” Cormorant have rounded into the ideal post-von Nagel band. This unit truly is the transformed body created by its members—bassist/vocalist Marcus Luscombe, guitarists Matt Solis and Nick Cohon, and drummer Brennan Kunkel (the latter three also member of Ursa)—and this new effort, a four-track, 61-minute record, is their statement that Cormorant is theirs alone now. The album is challenging and enthralling, and with some epic run times, you’re given no choice but to plug in and take this journey every step of the way with them. This is Cormorant’s true show of force.

“Preserved in Ash” is the 10:41 opener, and it rumbles open, kicking up dust and getting your heart in gear for the long trip ahead. Luscombe’s growls penetrate, while the melodies swell and take you with them, deep into the heat. “Head to the sea, on this volatile path, follow the sun, through the cracks in the ash,” Luscombe calls while the band swings out of a proggy cloud and into power. The guitars feel like they’re wind cracked and burnt, and everything comes to a pummeling end. “Sentinel” runs 15:52, and it fades in from the clouds. The first bit is slurry and hypnotic, but it’s not long until the thing chugs harder, and creaky growls lead into a section of spirited singing. The track goes from tricky to heated to hazy to cold, with guest Jackie Perez Gratz’s (Grayceon, Giant Squid) unmistakable cello work filling in even more texture. The cut goes clean, as Luscombe pleads, “Gods above, forgive me! Let them find their own way and release me to my dreams,” and the song tears apart again. The growls gnaw away, the guitars give off wilting steam, and the track fades away like a memory.

“The Devourer” is the shortest cut at 7:51, and its blasts open with grime and violence. The verses are filthy and delivered with crusty abandon, while the choruses have a huge, glorious feel to them, adding light to the murky dark. The track has its moments where it gets tricky and seems to feed off sci-fi tendencies, while the soloing is powerful before giving way to some serenity. Luscombe pushes his voice into the stratosphere again before the song turns burly again, and its body disintegrates into a pocket of noise. “Migration” is the 26:15 closer, a song that breathes even more life to the record’s multi-panel packaging by essentially telling its story. Spending time with the lyrics alone is enough to compel and get the bloodstream surging, but applying it to the music compounds the experience. Out of mystical winds, the band drives slowly, with Luscombe calling, “Lex Sempronia Agraria, we migrate to find it.” Strong melodies and a sense of traversing the land and finding new prosperity bubble to the surface, while the guitar interplay brings a sense of glory. About halfway through, a feeling of desolation and loneliness arrives, as the music gets spacious and strange, and then the music begins a rapid ascension. The music keeps burning off layers, as the finality comes into focus. As Luscombe wails, “The mission embellished, charged ‘from above,’ the promise of virtue, contrived imperialist lie,” puts a dagger in that hope, and like those dreams, the final moments bleed off and dry in the dirt.

Fully in control of their plotlines, both creatively and from a band perspective, Cormorant deliver a rousing, devastating journey on “Diaspora.” The band has made an aggressive journey of their own from their early years to where they stand now, and they are reaching the height of their creativity. This remains one of the most stimulating bands in all extreme music, and with this album, we are witnessing a galvanized force ready to tear its way forward.

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

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

Over the past decade, death metal has gotten kind of weird in sections. Bands have been taking the brutality and disgusting blends created by the pioneers of the genre and turned it something that seems to have originated in deep space. Perhaps it has infected the entire bloodstream, because as things go on, we get more and more artists twisting the music to obscene levels.

One of the groups that have been in on this run the past several years are Brooklyn-based beasts Pyrrhon, who have done their fair share to shake the body to its core and leave only strange scraps behind. The band has returned with their mind-liquifying third record “What Passes for Survival,” released on Willowtip Records and Throatruiner Records, two places where their challenging art is right at home. The follow-up to 2014’s “The Mother of Virtues,” the band tackles abuse, the soul-grinding workforce, and even ridiculous war bros who go to stupid lengths to prove their truth. Essentially, you get a lot of dark dashed with some light, and holding that all together is some of the most intricate, busy, soul-bruising death metal alive on Earth. The band—vocalist Doug Moore, guitarist Dylan DiLella, bassist Erik Malave, and drummer Steve Schwegler—punish your senses and insert their own warped reality into their art, resulting in one of the strangest death metal records you’re bound to hear.

The record starts with a noise burst before the band chews you up and spits you out on “The Happy Victim’s Creed.” Here, they lambaste the mindless drones in the workforce as growls mix with shrieks, guitars drill into your skull, and the band sets a path to devastation. “Make me the servant I was born to be!” Moore howls as the track reaches its end. “The Invisible Hand Holds a Whip” is deranged and furious, as Moore’s voice hits monstrous chaos, and the guitars go on an exploration mission. Strange effects coat the growls, while the noises pile up, and Moore wails, “Our number’s up, we all got to pay!” “Goat Mockery Ritual” is a poke at those dudes (let’s face it, it’s almost all dudes) who cry about the metal scene and go a little overboard proving their kvltness. “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing you saps that ‘observe the dress code’ shall be the whole of the law,” Moore howls sarcastically, as the band backs him with twisting punishment, guitars that swing into space, and a slow-mauling finish. “Tennessee” turns things serious again, as the song focuses on a friend who suffered abuse while incarcerated. Ominous bass tones start the song, as the dizzying, sprawling damage sinks its teeth, and the punishment fits the theme of the song. The shrieks unleashed remind of Mike Patton at his most unhinged, as the song hammers home the torment and injustice served.

“Trash Talk Landfill” opens with satirist/musician Tom Lehrer’s 1959 line that, “Life is like a sewer, what you get out of it depends on what you put into it.” It’s a hilarious line, but then the track becomes unglued, as the band grinds away, and the growls blister the ribcage. Part of the playing is rubbery as fuck, as the soloing goes nuts and confounds reality, the pace crunches, and the back end is packed with death-style lunacy. That leads nicely into the three-part “The Unraveling” triptych, with the whole thing cemented together nicely, and the only real way to keep the parts separate is to follow the track listing. “Hegemony of Grasping Fears” is the first part, unleashing total insanity, as everything hits the fan. The tempo is crunchy and mathy, reminding a bit of Dillinger Escape Plan, and that all bleeds into the second portion, “Free at Last.” “This is a first-hand account of a culture committing suicide,” Moore cries, as this middle section is disorienting and peels the paint off the walls, while the last bit, “Live From the Fresh Corpse,” is more straight-forward … when considering what preceded it. We’re back into a death march, with terrifying growls and an assault that ends abruptly. “Empty” closes the record, a 12:03 pounder that brings soupy guitars, coarse growls, and a thick haze. The pace calms some in the middle, letting the humidity in, but then we’re back into bludgeoning death that drops a million hammers. The band slips into a free-form section where they noodle in outer space. Then we’re back to slowly meted out torture, vocals scraping skin, and the band delivering a final beating.

Pyrrhon remain disinterested in doing things the conventional way, as “What Passes for Survival” proves repeatedly. Their brand of death is not here for brutality’s sake; it’s here to push your brain and alter what you expect from heavy music. Their style, as it’s always been, likely won’t be everyone’s tastes, but for those who are aligned, Pyrrhon have more concoctions to destroy your perception of reality.

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

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

Or here: https://deathwishinc.eu/collections/throatruiner-records

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

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

Photo by James Rexroad

Being able to turn torment and psychological pain into music that drips black with those awful things if a gift, albeit a terrifying one. Many artists over the years have traveled dark paths and led listeners into harrowing corners where sadness and torture lurk. Few have been able to make music that literally sounds like it’s constructed of those things.

Atriarch lurked out of the shadows years ago from their home base in Portland, Ore., and their deathrock-infused doom always has felt overwhelming and sinister. The band’s new, fourth record “Dead as Truth” is near, and it’s another punishing display that could carve away at your body and mind. Everything they create feels like it has been lurking in the bleakest caverns of their mind, letting you taste the depression, anger, and frustration welling inside. It doesn’t take long into their new album to express that, especially when the acidic words drop from vocalist Lenny Smith’s mouth, tearing their way into your heart. His singing is one of the most effective elements this band has, as it’s impossible to avoid or deflect. But let’s not discount the rest of the group—guitarist Joshua Dark, bassist Andy Savage, and drummer Maxamillion—who help create those thick curtains of sorrow that drape you skin and bone and leave you shivering in tears.

“Inferno” starts the record and immediately thrusts you into the madness. Synth slowly unfurls, as Smith’s singing starts cutting into the skin, as he pokes, “Regret what you cannot change,” an instant tributary into guilt complex, before leveling with, “This is hell, we’re in hell!” Depression is thick and impossible to shake, while the fear of death stomps, hammered home with Smith’s ungodly shrieks and the band’s pummeling power. “Dead” is dripping with deathrock-style bass and guitars charging, as Smith manages to find a way to make things ever sootier. “All is lost!” he yelps at one points, taking you into his downward spiral, but it’s the gunshot blasting chorus of, “Su-i-cide!” where the despair gets to be too much. The final moments dissolve into rage, with Smith wailing, “Dead and gone and dead and gone!” “Devolver” has grimy growls and guitar sludge, as the vocals dig into your veins, and the pain is spread thick right up to the end.

“Void” runs 7:15 and rides in on the wings of charnel keys. The bass rolls while the singing warbles underneath it all, rising to the surface long enough for Smith to demand, “Stop saying words!” From there are shrieks, anguish, and self-loathing, as the vocals pierce the ear drums, the guitars rise and slay, and the track bleeds away. “Repent” has a strong doom charge right out of the gates, letting things lightly boil before rage pours over on the chorus. The song digs into class warfare and the plight of those who must struggle every day, as Smith ups the ante, screaming, “Annihilation, time to die!” as the song comes to a bruising end. Closer “Hopeless” has a clean run for a while, as emotion cascades, and Smith slurs and stalks from behind. The cut crumbles with Smith’s psyche, as he wails, “There is no love, there is no life!” The track’s tempo leans toward carnage, as the fires are stoked, giving off heat. Later, it’s back to ink-filled seas, misery-soaked singing, and the song disappearing into a static void.

Atriarch’s music isn’t for sunny days or for summer fun or for friendly gatherings. “Dead as Truth,” like all their records, is for deep reflection, personal bloodletting, and confronting any lingering psychological demons. This music isn’t here for anything else but taking part in the band’s suffering and figuring out how that overlaps to your own scarred existence.

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

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

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

Two major forces coming together for the betterment (or at least the appreciation) of black metal sounds like a welcome proposition, especially when both of those behemoths have very impressive resumes between them. Their debut EP is nearly upon us, and that effort is one that could crash the walls surrounding your already fragile psyche (well, at least mine is shaky).

Poison Blood is the new union combining Neill Jameson of Krieg and Jenks Miller of Horseback, two musicians who approach their art from very different perspectives and who do not, at least on the surface, seem like artists who’d naturally work well together. Yet, the band’s 8-track, 19-minute scorcher of a self-titled debut entry makes perfect sense once it’s upon you and gnawing the flesh. Jameson and Miller sink into their love of early black metal, as well as deathrock, doom, and synth rock, to create an EP that’s thunderous and savage, but also a really interesting trip. The guys also cite their shared appreciation of bands such as Beherit and Rudimentary Peni (there’s some Christian Death in here as well) as other touch points of inspiration for them, and elements of those groups also are well represented in the sound.

“The Scourge and the Gestalt” gets things going with strange noises flooding and a doomy riff suddenly turning to full swagger. Jameson’s monstrous growls burst through the gates, as the melodies show off attitude, guitars unleash hell, and the track comes to a ferocious end. “Deformed Lights” tramples and kills, as vicious vocals lead the way, and the tempo mauls. The vocals sound massive and crazed, as the guitar soloing takes on a Southern drawl (no doubt a Miller trait), as synth swells and fades away. “Myths From the Desert” blasts apart, with Jameson unleashing his throaty best, which sound painfully emitted, and synth barrels into the bombast. The back end of the track has a unique, war-ravaged feel, with these guys tacking on a huge finish. “A Cracked and Desolate Sky” thrashes massively, with the vocals echoing off walls and the riffs dominating. The pace chugs from there, with synth drizzling over top, and the final moments just killing you.

“The Flower of Serpents” is a nice dose of castle synth, with the music feeling like it should have sound-tracked an old NES game in the mid-1980s. “Shelter Beneath the Sea” is an unforgiving, strangulating push of black metal chaos, as the band unloads all its artillery in order to do as much mental and physical abuse as humanly possible. “From the Lash” brings cement truck-heavy guitar riffs that blacken the eyes, as the vocals kill and cause you mentally to spiral into space. The song keeps storming until calm settles over the scene, strange synth glimmers, and bass work helps the song roll away. Closer “Circles of Salt” settles into a synth bed, feeling like it jettisoned in from the ’80s. That coldness works with the warm guitars and the drums disrupting the picture, and out of that, voices swirl as if trapped in a tornado. The final moments are strange and trance-inducing, putting an interesting finish on a massive mind trick.

Jameson and Miller have a vicious, blood-thirsty effort on their hands with this massive self-titled EP, and where they go from this point is anyone’s guess. Poison Blood are not reinventing the wheel or anything on these eight songs, but that’s not the point. This is a fiery torch held aloft to the black metal gods of old and pushing that sound into the future, where they look to keep the heathen spirit alive.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/Poison-Blood-115522469047123/

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

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