Photo by by Suren Karapetyan

Classic, blood-soaked fury should be enough of a descriptor to lure anyone with metallic tastes to the band Mutilation Rites. They’ve spent the past several years slowly building their violent empire, going from the underground to a stint with Prosthetic Records and back to their skull-crushing roots, all the while compromising absolutely nothing.

The band has returned with the filthy third record “Chasm,” a collection that veers far closer to the charred fields of death metal that dabbles in black metal, all the while practically suffocating the listener. This is the first record we’ve gotten from the band since 2014’s savage “Empyrean,” jointly released by Prosthetic and their long-time label home Gilead Media, and it’s an album that never relents for a second. The band—guitarist/vocalist George Paul, bassist/vocalist Ryan Jones, guitarist Michael Dimmitt, and drummer Emmett Ceglia (Tyler Coburn of Yautja handled drums on the recording)—sound like a hellish, evil horde here, imagining torture and death and lathering their music with that madness. It took a few listens for the thing to really set up its terrors fully, but each subsequent visit has opened up bloody guitar routes not realized before and devastating assaults that make themselves clearer, right before they take off your head.

“Pierced Larynx” starts this destruction rightfully with feedback scorching and the guitars trudging to life. The growls scrape viciously, barely able to be deciphered, while the violence rumbles over and through the chorus. The track hits a spot where it boils and gives off steam before bursting again and mangling at the final gates. “Axion Destroyer” is dangerous from the start, burning a path of savagery and unleashing hellacious growls about watching the torture of a loved one. The track thrashes and makes you choke on mud before coming to a blistering end. “Ominous Rituals” soaks in darkness at the start, as guitars swirl and bring chaos, and then the bombs drop. The riffs rip a hole in the goddamn universe before they settle into a killer section that’s even a little proggy. Death growls melt while the pace heats up, punishing and bruising as it drags you to the end.

“Post-Mortem Obsession” has drums bustling to life as a killer riffs meets up with it, and then we’re into furious speed. The death growls are hellish and bloody, and later on, the song adopts some rock n roll swagger, adding attitude to your bloody wounds. Things then get disorienting before the band outright mauls you again before roaring to its end. The title track has delirious, dizzying guitar work, as well as raw, razor-delivered growls that hurt to absorb. The band bashes with reckless abandon, with the vocals clashing with your psyche, and the song coming to a destructive end. Closer “Putrid Decomposition” is the longest cut, a 10:59-long monster that has black metal strains at its front end before it blends into tricky and melodic waters. Again, the vocals are delivered with rusty saw carnage, while the drumming devastates, and the punishment builds. The guitars hang like a poisonous cloud, threatening a heavy storm, and once the clouds break, raspy wails are spat like nails, the pace is hammering, and the unforgiving beating fades along with your consciousness.

Mutilation Rites’ reign has been rock-solid throughout their three records and nearly a decade together, and “Chasm” continues to up the ante as to what these guys are capable of conjuring. Every inch of this record is coated in filth, and you might find yourself gasping and choking through tears as you take this trip. This band never had a concern about your physical or mental well-being before, and they sure as hell are not about the start now.

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

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

For more on the label, go here: https://gileadmedia.net/

Photo by Nico Poalillo

If you were to make two lists, one with bands that never had issues or turnover and one with bands that did, the one with constant issues would be way, way longer. Sometimes that’s for the better. Trimming the bad influences or members whose hearts aren’t in it can be good for creativity, and it could mean new life for the music.

For Athens, Ohio, natives Skeletonwitch, the upheaval they experienced a few years back was for the better. Skeptical? OK, so take on “Devouring Radiant Light,” the best goddamn album this band ever released, and tell me I’m wrong. Guitarist Nate Garnette had to push his brother Chance out of the band after an incident we don’t care to detail here, and that could have meant death for the band. Instead, five years after “Serpents Unleashed,” and with new vocalist Adam Clemans (Wolvhammer) in tow, they put out their defining album, a record that restarts the entire machine and delivers a classic record into their arsenal. They’ve put out good records before. This band is no slouch. But the material they—the band is rounded out by guitarist Scott Hendrick, bassist Evan Linger—deliver here is unstoppable, undeniable, and that of a band that looked its demise right in the eye and spat in it. This is a tremendous record, and, despite the seriousness of what pushed Chance from the band, they’re better off now.

“Fen of Shadows” starts the record in the arms of classic-style guitars before the track launches in full. Clemans’ corrosive growls rip open healed scabs, while a punchy/melodic chorus injects energy. A moment of calm breezes in before the leads catch fire, and everything resolves in the eye of a storm. “When Paradise Fades” begins with Judas Priest-style glory, speedy playing, and a punk-fueled tempo. The vocals burn, while the bulk of the track surges your blood, with even some tasty spurts of black metal. “Temple of the Sun” has a blistering start, as the growls maul, the playing floods the senses, and melody and savagery duel it out for supremacy. A killer solo kicks in later, giving off a trad metal vibe, and some strong clean singing adds a lighter nuance that leads into a halo of chaos. The title cut starts with serene guitars before things trickle open, and the guitars begin to shred. Clemans’ vocals are in full command, especially over the punchy chorus, while the riffs deliver battle blows, and things bleed away emotionally.

“The Luminous Sky” stampedes open, with the growls mangling, and the band jamming the speed pedal. Clemans’ delivery turns guttural and ugly, while the pace punishes all the way to its finish. “The Vault” is the longest song, clocking in at 8:52, and it starts on a somber note, setting its atmosphere before lightning strikes. The song floods the gates, with the vocals crushing and the band delivering utter mayhem designed to tear you apart. Black metal-style melodies take hold, as the intensity builds, sending blood and guts rushing everywhere. “Carnarium Eternal” is a total assault, with Clemans wailing, “Rise! Rise! Rise!” and the guitars going into battle mode. “I will consume all that’s inside,” Clemans vows, as the song is consumed by war. Closer “Sacred Soil” has guitars spinning, black metal-style gusts, and the vocals wrenching. The tide subsides for as bit, letting some warmer guitars into the room, but then it’s back to a full darkness blitz. The melodies race, there is a deluge of power, and finally the song is swallowed into the abyss, left to float in an endless haze.

Whatever you thought of Skeletonwitch before now, rethink it. This is a new band with a new lease on life, and they put their hearts, souls, and guts into “Devouring Radiant Light.” This is a record that should solidify their stronghold and even bring in skeptics watching from the outside. This band always has been for real, and they have a bloody, punishing new record to again prove their prowess.

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

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

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

Photo by Aloysius V. Cummings

There is something great about blood-and-guts death metal that’s just here to devastate, test wills, and bring about the ugliest possible sounds one can muster. It doesn’t always happen that way anymore, as the borders of death’s kingdom expand musically and philosophically. But when a band can make it seem like you’re drinking from the early ’90s swamps, there’s something fun about that.

We were introduced Extremity last year on their appetizer “Extremely Fucking Dead” EP, an effort that was brought to you from metallic veterans who know a thing or a million about this type of thing. Now, a little more than a year later, we have their full-length debut “Coffin Birth,” a record that sounds like what its title implies. It’s ugly and violent, it’ll make you think of the vilest of horror movies you’ve ever absorbed, and it is, yes, extremely fucking death metal. The trio involved—guitarist/vocalist Marissa Martinez-Hoadley (Cretin), bassist/guitarist/vocalist Shelby Lermo (Vastum, Ulthar), drummer Aesop Dekker (Khôrada, Vhöl, and formerly of Agalloch)—wastes no time trying to be pretty or polished and instead soaks your head right into a sticky bucket of blood and innards on this eight-cut, 40-minute pounder that can act as a template to how this shit is done.

“Coffin Birth/A Million Witches” starts on an eerie note, as organs swell, old haunted house screams chill your blood, and then the demolition arrives, with guitars chewing toward your neck. Vicious growls punish, while the thrashy pace adds ample bruising, and a burst of speed strikes before the cut settles into filth. “Where Evil Dwells” has burly riffs and growls that hammer your fingers, as the tempo delivers punishment and decay. The bulk of this is grisly and mean, as the guitars chug and cut through to the song’s core. “Grave Mistake” has a properly ugly start, as twin guitars unite, and then they go right for the guts. Martinez-Hoadley and Lermo battle back and firth with their guttural growls, while the guitar work takes off later in the song, smothering you with a coat of ash. An angry-mob chorus riles dead minions before the song ends in a blaze. “Umbiculus” has a savage start, as the vocals are spat out, and the attitude is fast and nasty. Chewy riffs punch, while the track gets more aggressive, the growls are dually delivered, and everything ends viciously.

“For Want of a Nail” has warbled words at the start, coming in like a hazy nightmare, before the track kicks up and dumps particularly gross growling. Amid the sinewy guitars come flushes of acoustics, while the final minute ups the ante of pain, as weird voices echo, and things come to a massive finish. “Occision” erupts, as the verses speed past, stopping by for wrenching growls and total chaos. The leads blur and bleed, mixing violence with confusion, leading you face first into a bludgeoning. “Like Father Like Son” has strong riffs at the front end, meeting up with some mystical strangeness that arrives after the verses. The band slows it down at times, still delivering a hell of a beating, twisting and warping while you seek a modicum of mercy that never arrives. The record ends with “Misbegotten/Coffin Death” an ideal bookend with the opener. It opens acoustically, sounding like the start of a classic old ’80s thrash album, and then the power comes. It’s heavy and commanding, a track that feels like a battle cry, with a chorus that just rules. Martinez-Hoadley and Lermo again combine forces, and the song absolutely punishes. This is legit save-the-best-for-last territory, as this track slays, and this band is the old school death metal you didn’t realize you needed this badly. Oh, and the ending is fucking creepy and may keep you up at night.

Extremity’s well-traveled members sure as shit had nothing to prove to anyone, but that didn’t stop them from making “Coffin Birth,” a 15-round battle with death and horrors. The music is like taking a claw hammer to the back of the head and, perversely, really enjoying it. This record is a punishing display of death metal the way it’s meant to be played, which should be enough of a selling point alone.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/search?type=product&q=EXTREMITY

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

There used to be a time bands loved to get their music into big-box retailers in order to have their records accessible to more people. With that came compromise, be it censored album art, “clean versions” of albums sold a stone’s throw from DVDs containing murders and graphic sex scenes, and what have you. Then, there were bands whose very names pretty much disqualified them.

I’m assuming, if they give a fuck at all about their music being sold in Walmart, that you’d never find a Bongripper album next to whatever shitty pop country albums they’re shilling. Though it would be amazing. Instead, they have to make their way selling records the “hard way,” whether that’s in a record shop or at their shows on from their website. Lucky for all of us, they have new product in the form of “Terminal,” a two-track, 43:25-long ripper that’s going to tear off your goddamn head, but in the chilliest way possible. This, their seventh full-length in 13 years as a band, is more of the smoking good stuff from the Chicago-based instrumental quartet (guitarists Nick Dellacroce and Dennis Pleckham, bassist Ronald Petzke, and drummer Daniel O’Connor). You don’t necessarily have to drop out of life, bong in hand, to get with these songs, but I’m assuming it makes this beast even more enjoyable. Oh, and if you’re headed to Migration Fest later this month, these guys will be there to melt away your pain.

“Slow” kicks off the record, a 25:10-long behemoth that arrives out of a cloud of dust and unleashes burly, muscular riffs. The track is slow moving and heavy, sometimes channeling proper Sabbath worship along the way and often getting muddy and ugly. The track goes dreamy for a second, with sunburnt melodies finding their way to the surface, before steely guitars take over and ease things in a gazey haze. That builds and grows louder, while the band starts to hammer away, with the riffs utterly destroying. Devastation reigns, while sludgy playing clogs arteries, and a relentless barrage of damage lays waste. The guitars lather, while the sound cloud spreads, and everything comes to a simmering, which naturally spills its way into 20:06 “Death.”

Pushing through a noise tunnel, the song boils while cosmic gusts float overhead, and it sounds as if the machine comes to a slow, painful demise. But then the riffs tear into you like a sudden burst of thunder, crashing and thrashing, rumbling over everything that stands before it, burning toward its core while riffs kick everything into high gear. The music tramples over your prone body, chugging heavily while noise screeches peel your flesh from the bone. The path is beaten forward, with the drubbing feeling like it’s chewing away at an already prone wound, and sounds strike to add to that aggravation. The guitars flood the scene, noise clashes and disorients, and everything bleeds away into a black hole of confusion, leaving you there to succumb to force.

The four years since “Miserable” that we waited for “Terminal” sure feels worth it after indulging in this blazing instrumental exercise. Bongripper remain at the top of their game, smoking you out with their powerful ways and torching the hairs on your arm when you get too close. Whether you’re looking to zone out and get your nose bloodied, these guys keep providing ample opportunity to do one or both.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://bongripper.bigcartel.com/

Or here: https://bongripper.bandcamp.com/

Photo by Alex Krause

The world feels filthy, not that it ever was truly clean before. The problems seem like they’ve been amplified to deafening levels, as the power structure is trying to be wrestled away from people and put on a pedestal that only certain dignitaries would be able to reach. It’s heartening that people are fighting back against that, but things just feel dirty and raw.

NYC-based avant-garde black metal experimenters Imperial Triumphant see that in their very city. They see a place crumbling under the weight of corruption and madness, and they translate those feelings in a way only this band is capable of doing. All of this is found on their impressive and sonically baffling new record “Vile Luxury,” a collection that tramples through urban decay and the people under the boot of high society trying to battle back against absolute power. Anyone who’s familiar with the band knows their music has grown increasingly more complex and frightening, and on this album, they delve further into jazz, almost as if they’re reporting on the crumbling of society from an old speakeasy. There’s a class and elegance woven into the manic outbursts and brain-mangling playing, as they convey beauty and utter disgust equally. The gold-masked trio—Zachary Ilya Ezrin (vocals, guitars), Steve Blanco (bass, backing vocals), and Kenny Grohowski (drums)—are joined by a number of special guests on the record including Will Smith (Artificial Brain), Yoshiko Ohara (Bloody Panda), and singers Andromeda Anarchia (Dark Matters) and Sarai Chrzanowski, as well as a cast of brass players, in order to bring this ambitious, troubling story to life. Every time I hear it, I notice crazy shit I didn’t hear the first time, which is part of the immersive experience.

“Swarming Opulence” opens with a skronk of horns (fun fact: First time I listened to this song, my dog was next to me, and she tilted her head all the way to the side at the sound) before the song rips to life. Ezrin growls nastily over the warped pace, as jazzy heat ensues. The track gets disorienting, as chants erupt, dramatic surges strike, the bass swells, and the strange outro leaves you in the dust. “Lower World” soaks in feedback before the drums rustle, the tempo smothers, and brain-numbing violence meets up with odd chants. The track sludges along, eventually fading into an eerie dream that takes over your senses. From there, we’re trampling into a muddy hell, as the relentless thrashing promises no chance at peace. “Gotham Luxe” is disorienting from the start, with hellish growls from Smith added to the mix, and a bizarre, flattening display. The lurching death growls mix with sweltering soloing, as the humidity gains thickness, bleeding into steamy playing and neck-jerking trauma. Deranged howls chew at sanity before calming piano drips like cold rain. Out of that rises “Chernobyl Blues” that has a weird hue about it, as cosmic noise spreads into the recesses of the inner city. Growled Russian warbles over the calm, which is so weird but effective, and later Yoshiko unleashes her banshee wail that could frighten the dead in their graves. That terror meets up with splattered chaos that explodes with volume before falling out into an acid bath.

“Cosmopolis” is elegant and slinking as it starts, as muted trumpets push in like morose sirens signaling the end, and rubbery guitars emerge like a clawed beast. Monstrous hell is unleashed, as piano dances through the fires, as the demolition gets purposely repetitive. The guitars both chug and jangle, as the song twists your brain stem one last time. “Mother Machine” is gentle and dreamy at the start, as horns spread pestilence, and the band gets free form and lets the horror flow. The track turns slurry and boozy, with horns blurting, and intoxication setting in. “The Filth” has an ominous start, with machine gun riffs chewing up bone, and the mud getting thicker and more suffocating. Anarchia’s singing floats into the scene, as operatic wails and grisly growls twist, heightening the sense of dread. That ugliness doesn’t dissipate, with the music drilling relentlessly and off the rails, the storm hanging overhead and never giving mercy, and the intensity finally letting up once everything is hopelessly flooded. The record ends with “Luxury in Death,” as guitars cry out, a dusty desert feel chokes throats, and Yoshiko’s wild shrieks slice your sanity apart. Noise continues to build up like a refuse pile, while the pained screams and bloody haze part, leaving only the blunt cries holding your hand at the end.

Who knows if society can ever right itself, or if this situation is terminal, but having the likes of Imperial Triumphant as observers underground ensures we’ll always have an honest portrayal of this horrifying struggle. “Vile Luxury” depicts a reality people don’t want to acknowledge but cannot honestly deny any longer. This is a portrait of panic and chaos that will wash over you and prevent you from ever forgetting this terrifying experience, even as real life plays out before your eyes.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://gileadmedia.bandcamp.com/album/vile-luxury

Or here: https://throatruinerrecords.com/imperial-triumphant

For more on the label, go here: https://gileadmedia.net/

And here: https://throatruinerrecords.com/

As I write this piece, it’s 98 degrees outside. I’m in Pittsburgh, which only sees temperatures like this a couple days a year, if that, and it’s the third day in a row of its kind. I’m pretty much melting away, and taking a long walk about lunchtime definitely wasn’t a wise choice, as I have been completely dead ever since that senseless venture.

So, it’s weird to be talking about a band named Hoth, which is the name if the ice planet on which Luke Skywalker is trapped at the start of “Empire Strikes Back,” the greatest movie of all time. You know, I thought these things smelled bad on the outside? But this duo’s approach has nothing to do with Star Wars at the moment, though the cosmos plays a part, and what’s on their killer third full-length “Astral Necromancy” definitely is steeped in drama and havoc. Contained on this 11-track, 50-minute album, the follow-up to 2014’s “Oathbreaker,” is melodic, compelling black metal that’s devastating and catchy at the same time. The riffs envelop you like a Tauntaun’s guts, while the non-linear storyline about hidden knowledge and spiritual transcendence keeps you looped into the magic that these guys—Eric Peters and David Dees—conjure on this tremendous collection.

The record starts with killer “Vengeance,” as speedy riffs and creaky growls power the front end, before a blast-furnace chorus strikes, with howls of, “Vengeance against time! Vengeance against memory!” I can’t get it out of my head. Glorious leads spiral and pummel, leading to the end and toward “The Living Dreams of a Dead God” that unloads classic metallic fury. The track chugs along, with the vocals scraping, strong leads dizzying, and more traditional-style playing kicking up dust. “The Horrid Truth” has a fluid opening, with synth flushing and the vocals piercing the flesh. The guitar work shines again, with the track coming to a punishing end. “Passage Into Entropy” bleeds in, with organs flooding, and the band hitting a rock n roll-style vibe as their blackness is unleashed. The track is punchy and rousing, with a killer chorus and the track bleeding out into a haze of keys. “Citadel of the Necromancer” is the scene of a great battle, with riffs chewing, the vocals telling the volatile tale, and some of the melodies feeling folkish, though they remain heavy as hell. The track keeps piling on, as the track ends with defeat, with the howl of, “The necromancer’s apprentice is defeated, left to die in the wood,” though vowing the person will return again. “Ad Inane Precatio” is a quick interlude with operatic-style singing, a passage with a pastoral feel, lending an essence of dark spirituality.

“The Gathering of the Accursed Artifacts” has guitars gently trickling before the gates are blown down, and the playing starts mauling. The guitars mix and leave dizzying ripples, while the vocals are beastly, and the ambiance is cold as deep winter. “Ascension” bursts to life, with the guitars ripping flesh, and the melodic verses amplifying the track’s power. The intensity continues to grow, fed by the fiery riffs, charring before it fades away. “Journey Into Eternal Winter” has a rock-style start, with energetic singing over the chorus, giving it a European beer hall-style vibe as they bellow, “Journey into eternal winter, through white frost and endless cold, in a forsaken place of sorrow, time stands still and silence reigns.” The tempo is bludgeoning but also highly energetic, another example of how Hoth can mix punishment and catchiness into the same package. “The Void Between the Stars” unloads colorful riffs, another dose of classic metal, and the vocals scratching out the story, as the aforementioned vengeance is unleashed. The track eventually goes cold and serene, teasing you with calm as a sweltering solo strikes, and as everything charges ahead, we come to a stunning finish. Closer “Solitude” is a raging fire when it starts, with the guitars punishing, and the creaking vocals flooding. The track gets spacious, as a penetrating pace shakes the earth, the guitars conjure blinding light, and the final lines, “Feeding upon the light of stars, rending all life to empty husks,” drops a final curtain of darkness.

Hoth’s music isn’t making it any cooler around here, but the music on “Astral Necromancy” at least is taking our minds off this as they deliver icy riffs and mysterious storytelling. These guys prove you can do the melodic black metal thing and not sound over-processed nor lack an edge, as their power and fury help them do over the course of this whole record. This is a band that’s been floating under the ground for quite some time, and this record is the one that might help them smash through the surface.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://hothmusic.bandcamp.com/album/astral-necromancy

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

Doing this site isn’t a terribly difficult endeavor, to be honest, and the fun I get bringing to readers music I personally enjoy and in which I find merit has been my way of paying back the tons of ways metal has given to me. But that doesn’t mean finding the right words and ways of description always are a breeze, hence what I’m about to do today.

See, Canadian terror unit Malsanctum are here with their stirring, divisive debut effort, and holy shit if I didn’t have a hard time taking notes on this thing. There’s no quick way to explain this band and their music to people easily and quickly. The best I can do is say it’s a buzzard’s nest of noise, black metal, and funeral doom, as well as some other shit we likely don’t have a name for quite yet. It’s made by a mysterious entity that has no names or number of members or anything else that they’re sharing with the public. No social media presence. Nothing. What we get are three songs, all of them lengthy, that are scary and nightmare-inducing, a black maze of horrors that you can’t see coming until they’re right up on you, chewing at your bones. Much of this feels like basement torture, as you choke on bile, piss, and dirt, and the person in charge of your pain does nothing but laugh and growl unintelligible words that essentially mean you’re doomed. Not sure if any of that helps at all, but just know you’ll be shaken.

“The Father” starts the record, a 10:17-long battle that begins with eerie noises, blurry, demonic lurches, and deranged howls that chew the nerve endings. Feedback blurs, while strange transmissions muddy the waters, and deliberate pounding is enough to bring pain and extreme confusion. From there, the playing lulls you into a trance, with the percussion dizzying, and a strange outro causing head tilts. “The Son” runs 9:47, and it begins with a clip about serial killers and their marriage to torture. Reminded me a bit of Dragged Into Sunlight. Grisly growls and deranged music pick up, as the playing drubs, and sludgy riffs mix blood with mud. A horrific wave of noises arrives, sickening the mind, and strange whispering sends chills down your spine, as the band goes into Portal-style death madness. Weirdness floods again, with wild cries and terror dissolving into noise acid.

“The Shattered Spirit” ends the record on a 23:49-long run that challenges you and continually rubs your face in filth. Grisly playing bubbles, with loud clangs, doomy riffs, and slow-crawling insanity chewing up the earth. The track goes cold and serene, which is almost panic inducing in its calm, and the guitars trickle over several minutes before a “True Detective” clips runs, the one where Rust painfully recounts his daughter’s death in a car accident. Out of that, drums echo, the music hits like a pained caterwaul, and cavernous pounding has its way, as anguished wails peel away at your face, and the destruction is then slowly dealt. Then, the drums ignite, a killer speaks about the opening of his victims’ throats, and a weird cosmic transmission takes over and drags us off to alien terrain.

Malsanctum’s first full foray into the world, this morbid self-titled record, is the stuff that leaves permanent psychological scarring if you’re not prepared for what you’re about to hear. This is pure audio chaos, a damned mix of different forms of noise and metal that never were meant to mix and can only be called abomination. You can hope for mercy once you’re in this band’s grasp, and you can know your mind’s chemical makeup is forever compromised.

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

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

Photo by Peter Beste

Life, apparently, was not meant to be easy. That’s a statement that can stand before we even dig up the roots of filthy politics and the way people treat one another, especially those different from them. Anything worth doing is meant to have its share of hard times, and those who see them through have a better chance of ending up satisfied at the end.

It’s no secret that the creative life of Johanna Sadonis hasn’t been the smoothest of rides lately. Her incredibly promising union with Linnea Olsson in The Oath disintegrated after only two years together and a great debut record in 2014 that seemed to signal the beginning of a band that would twist heads into the future. Afterward, she formed Lucifer alongside Andy Prestidge, though he would exit the band in 2017. She teamed up with guitarist Gaz Jennings (formerly of legendary Cathedral, now of Death Penalty and Septic Tank) to create their debut effort “I,” but he also left in 2017, leaving Sadonis to pick up the pieces again. However, into the fold came Nicke Andersson (Entombed, Hellacopters, Death Breath) to work with Sadonis, and fucking magic formed. The resulting LP “II” sounds far more like music Sadonis was made to make. No offense to “I,” but it was lacking and didn’t seem to match Sadonis’ great power. On “II,” the music is more psychedelic, bluesier, and has a dusty, vintage evil essence. Filling out the remainder of the outfit are guitarists Robin Tidebrink (he played on the record as well) and Martin Nordin, as well as bassist Alexander Mayr, who, hopefully, are the spine of the band for the foreseeable future.

“California Son” is an absolutely ass-kicking opener, the ideal introduction to this band for any newcomers. Sadonis is in complete command, while the music swaggers and she calls, “You’re only an ocean away.” Tremendous track and catchy as hell. “Dreamer” gets more mystical, and it’s a song I could imagine if Ronnie James Dio still walked among us, he may wonder if this hadn’t been pulled from his storybook. “What have you done with your life?” Sadonis prods, while mid-tempo pace begins to crunch as the song closes. “Phoenix” has a tasty psyche-washed start, with classic metal riffs cutting in, and a super catchy chorus where she demands, “You’ve got the stand up to your fire.” I think. I don’t have the lyrics, but that’s how it sounds. “Dancing With Mr. D” is a terrible song, a huge misstep, and it could have totally derailed this record. The band sounds like they’re having fun with it, but it’s just not good. So, let’s move to “Reaper on Your Heels” that steadies the course with attitude-splashed rock n roll and great singing, as Sadonis sees the end, noting, “When you used up all your time, and the flame in you is gone,” before blasting to the grave.

“Eyes in the Sky” has burly riffs, great leads, and psyche-drenched vocals that power the way. The track rips into a shuffle and then hits the gas pedal, punching harder and faster, with an electric solo blazing toward the song’s end. “Before the Sun” is a dose of ’70s-style folk rock, as Sadonis foresees people approaching their fall and misfortune. The song has a “Remember Tomorrow” vibe to it, as it sends chills to the more nostalgic cells in your body. “Aton” is crunchy as hell, with a sweltering pace to match these hot summer days, and steamy singing. More great soloing emerges before the whole thing bleeds into the night. “Faux Pharaoh” has doomy riffs, Sadonis singing about “paranoia and decay,” and the atmosphere taking on more pressure. The guitars gain intensity, strings rise up, and the track comes to a raucous end. Closer “Evening Wind” pushes through, bringing psychedelic dreams, bluesy bits, and a pace that goes from haunting ballad to scorcher. The guitars are thick and rich, setting fires, though that eases back, as the track closes with spirited “ah-ah-ah” calls and a disappearance into mystery.

This record sounds like Lucifer at its ultimate state, save for that one track, and hopefully whatever magic needs to be conjured to keep the “II” lineup together can be drawn to this Earth. This is a fun record, a perfect collection for the summertime when things are hot and sticky, and music like this goes down easily. This rivals that Oath debut for the best work Sadonis has done so far, a record very much brimming with her occult charisma and power.

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

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

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