Photo by Reid Haithcock

We are at a sort of crossroads as people. We’re dealing with the worst health crisis of most of our lives, and there is so much upheaval the world over, especially in the United States, that it feels like we’re building to some kind of awakening. Or an unmitigated disaster, but it depends on us to divert such a thing from happening.

Feel like I’ve said this about other records a million times, but there’s so way Sumac could have known just how profound their new album “May You Be Held” would be when it finally landed. But here we are, many of us trapped where we are, others having to make their way into the public like nothing ever happened, and we all have to make sense of it all. While in no way is this record a cure all, there’s a good chance if you immerse yourself into the chaotic world rumbling here, the music could take on a cathartic role. The band—guitarist/vocalist Aaron Turner, bassist Brian Cook, drummer Nick Yacyshyn—brings forth all the elements needed for a personal transformation including the chaos, the pain, the struggles, and the hope that might be at the end of the path. Bathing in the music could make it feel like the trauma we’re been facing is burning off our bodies as we regenerate into a newer, better form.

“A Prayer for Your Path” opens the record and is almost like a reflection piece, albeit in oceans of noise, that acts as a gateway into the body of the record. Sounds reverberate as calls enter into the mix and get swallowed, leading toward a feedback rise and right into the title track, the longest track here clocking in at 19:52. Guitars crunch as Turner’s wails begin to stick, growing more animalistic as the track gets meatier. Powerful lashes are followed by an atmospheric bend that is pierced by lion roars and a mashing tempo that’s eventually erased by a long period of music hanging in the air threateningly. Drums begin to crash to the ground as slow mauling is administered, then guitars spit static as the noises coil, smearing growls and heavy clobbering into piles of dust in the ground.

“The Iron Chair” also serves guitars piping hot and attacking as the volume bursts, and molten hell flows freely and thickly in front of you. Fierce howls pummel as a psyche haze is achieved, which hints at something later, and noise pressure rises until it bursts. “Consumed” is the second-longest cut, running 16:58 and starting with noise sparks that pierce flesh. The track chugs hard and stomps mud in place as Turner calls, “So slow, so tired.” The pace hypnotizes as serene waters flow and chill flesh before the body reopens, and the vocals split atoms. From there, the track begins to tear worlds apart, bashing away, firing up a million hornets nests as vile roars crunch bones, and the band flattens everything in its wake like a comet crushing earth. “Laughter and Silence” is the nine-minute closer and is like a sound bath designed to soothe the scorched flesh from your trip through the middle. Psychedelic fog slows as the band achieves an ambiance where your mind is put to rest, you see colors and planes before unexperienced, and everything settles itself into a soaking, soft rain that carries you on your way out.

It’s beating a dead horse to mention how we’re in an unprecedented situation with a deadly virus spreading and leadership continually showing its uncovered ass, but there’s a truth to the fact that we’ll get beyond this at some point, and we must be ready for that. Sumac have the very document that could help you with that mentally and cosmically with “May You Be Held.” This is not the first time we’ve faced adversity, but what we do now depends on what our future is like, and having music like this can help open the mind and make the journey a little less terrifying to tackle.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://thrilljockey.com/products/may-you-be-held

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

The U.S. isn’t alone in this category, but we’re not particularly welcoming to outsiders, and that has been fanned into a raging storm the past few years, accelerated by a certain person occupying a white house in DC. This is despite this whole nation always been touted as a melting pot of different types of people, and this whole land being built with folks from other places.

As noted, this country isn’t an isolated case, and UK-based grind/death/punk legends Napalm Death have seen it all themselves, and they unleash all of that on their amazing new record “Throes of Joy in the Jaws of Defeatism.” This record, their 16th, certainly has a modern Napalm touch, but there also are elements of many of their different past eras in a way that makes for one of their heaviest, most aggressive, and exciting albums they’ve ever done. The band—vocalist Barney Greenway, guitarist Mitch Harris, bassist Shane Embury, drummer Danny Herrera—always have posited their work as protest music, and here on this 12-track album, they’re lighting up some of the most ferocious fires they’ve sparked in a while looking at how people unlike those in the dominant quadrant are treated and how that affects them. It can be a heartbreaking picture, but the way the band tears through this material and exacts their own rage keeps the pressure on.

“Fuck the Factoid” rips the lid off the record as the pace stampedes hard, with Greenway’s vocals almost sounding death metal in tone. Guitars mangle as the drums turn bone to dust, while the bass drives home with Greenway wailing, “Filthy fucking factoid epidemic!” “Backlash Just Because” has guitars swaggering some musical weirdness, which is a nice recurring theme on this album. The pace blisters as fury and savagery meet and burn hellaciously. “That Curse of Being in Thrall” is speedy as hell as the vocals are spat out, and the tempo utterly clobbers. “One of many unwashed on your back, platitude-shitting amorphous mass,” Greenway howls as gang-shouted sections leave bruises, and the finish mangles. “Contagion” has riffs charging away as the track explodes from the inside. “Greed is a contagion refined with a soulless poison, they negotiate in innocence with a greed that’s infectious,” Greenway accuses as dizzying insanity is unleashed, and a slurry pace emerges to bring things to a numbing finish. “Joie De Ne Pas Vivre” has the bass rumbling and a sense of strangeness running through as the vocals grind along, and a sort of dream state hangs overhead. The track feels like it floats over your head, sucking you into the echoing finish. “Invigorating Clutch” has guitars that cause dizziness as its effects simmer and give off steam, churning through a chunky pace. The playing gives off a coolness that later is eaten by swaggering heat as the bizarre ending exits like a ghost.

“Zero Gravitas Chamber” delivers a strong riff that zips along, as the vocals explode past you, and the playing is a blast furnace. The approach is both violent and disorienting while the intensity never lets up for a second as Greenway wails, “Our armaments don’t slay, yes, we make them just to entertain, yes, food not bombs, please, food not bombs.” “Fluxing of the Muscle” has warped playing and the vocals melting through metal, as Greenway howls, “Throbbing muscle muscle muscle muscle!” to hammer home his point. The back end of the song has Greenway speaking his lines before exploding with screams as he repeats those words in the midst of chaos. “Amoral” feels different with brighter guitar work and more of a rock feel, with Greenway even singing gravelly, which is a nice change of pace. “In the end we’re just food for the worms, shit of the earth,” he concludes as the track bleeds out. The title track has Greenway wailing sans music before the track explodes into flames, flattening with a force, with the call of, “Expletive deleted defeated,” before the storm subsides. “Acting in Gouged Faith” is thrashy madness, with guitars twisting machines and the senses being warped. Drums crush skulls as cool riffs smother, with the track coming to a numbing end. “A Bellyful of Salt and Spleen” closes the album in a sludgy noise, vocals slurring, and the pace slicing into an alien haze. An industrial-style shift delivers jolts as Greenway wails, “Poke your corpse upon the golden sands, your day in the sun,” as the track comes to a nightmarish end.

Napalm Death have spent four decades now standing up for the downtrodden, fighting back against fascism, and being a raging beacon in a sometimes-unforgiving storm, and that continues on “Throes of Joy in the Jaws of Defeatism.” This is raging, blistering stuff, but there’s also some material here that’s a lot different from what we’re used to but also fits like a glove. This band never seems to run out of fuel, but living in this world and actually paying attention tends to keep the creative juice roaring ferociously.

For more on the band, go here: https://napalmdeath.org/scum/

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

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

We live in a strange time of delusions. You can sense that just by paying at attention to the current presidential race or, you know, to the guy in the White House and his strange band of followers who have fallen hard for an intense line of bullshit that’s ruining people’s mental states.

Much of what’s led to this has been people having a crisis of faith and falling in with an idea system that appears to promise salvation but really is flimsy fantasy with no one winning expect the people at the top. Cross Bringer hail from a world away from the American political system, as they reside in Russia, but they concentrate on similar ideas, or the theme of a prelest, on their great debut record “The Signs of Spiritual Delusion.” Trying to disassociate from delusion and lies presented to oneself and breaking the chains of dictatorship are things they’d know quite well living where they do, and the band—they are comrpised of members of Euglena and the Homeless Is Dead—channels their anger into their art and also tries to find new hope by spreading kindness, which the world needs in spades.

“Untitled (Prayer)” bleeds into the picture as sounds waft and whispers scurry, while the tide begins to rise. Shrieks rain down as the pounding is meted out slowly, pushing into “The Battle of the Weak” where Aleksandrov’s vocals rage into order, and the guitars rush into a crushing tempo. The playing is relentless and utterly shreds any sense of sanity while the drums pulverize brains, and a quick gear switch keeps things violent and blasting. “Supplication/Sacrament” is the longest track here, running 7:33, letting guitars emerge slowly before the playing it torn apart, the shrieks and guitars combine to maul serenity. Leads swirl and create a strange hell before the guitars divebomb, lighting up the room. The pace continues to pound away as the shrieks stun, the pacing brings humidity, and everything ends in scathing melodies.

“The Sun Ritual” is a quick instrumental that brings cool air and a feeling of basking in beams of light, steering into “Temptation of Naivety (Untamable Black Dog)” that opens up the record’s guts. Aleksandrov’s shrieks smear hell like piles of soot while vicious punishment is dealt, agitating the fires already set. From there, the drums explode, and the track ends in a pit of feedback. “Torture Incantation” is a healthy 6:51 and instantly delivers a burst of rage, bringing raucous fury and an increasingly rising temperature. “I hope you choke on your own choices,” Aleksandrov cries as the drums decimate, and the playing speeds and tangles. Shrieks pound flesh as a hellish fury boils over and bows out in a haze. Closer “Self-Inflicted Martyrdoma” is a massive as it begins, with guitars stabbing and shrieks stunning. “I want to disappear,” Aleksandrov calls as the anger and frustration mount a final offense, and the track smashes away, leaving a morbid blood smear.

Destroying controlling power structures and waking people up from fantasy existences may seem like an impossible mission, and for many, it actually will be a hard awakening the day reality returns. Cross Bringer shine a vicious light on that with “The Signs of Spiritual Delusion,” a great debut record that aligns black metal, hardcore, and post-rock quaking. There remains hope, hard as it may be to unearth, but finding that salvation can mean the difference between living in truth or lies.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://consouling.be/release/the-sign-of-spiritual-delusion

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

Photo by Ebru Yildiz

We live in a world utterly devoid of superheroes, despite there being thousands of movies about them that rake in a ton of cash. Oh, remember movies? Anyway, there’s something alluring about a character that isn’t a shining beacon of hope, that has flaws, that won’t always end up doing the right things. It’s the classic tweener in pro wrestling, someone neither heroic nor villainous.

That concept of antihero is what fuels “Shame,” the fourth record from Uniform, which is one of their most interesting pieces to date. Still immersed in noise-infested power (the band is ridiculously hard to pinpoint from a sound standpoint), though now with a live drummer, Uniform took a look at a character that’s just trying to get by, living through tumultuous times battling demons and issues just like any one of us would. There’s no big bad to defeat, no mountains to climb, no test to pass. There’s just the passage of time that the band—vocalist Michael Berdan, guitarist/production wizard Ben Greenberg, drummer Mike Sharp—weaves into these eight tracks that twist metal, electronics, hardcore, and punk that hammer home the monotony and droning of everyday life and endless tasks that never can be completed, all the while still giving into temptations.

“Delco” erupts right away with Berdan wailing, “You are what’s been done to you,” which is actually as perfect summation of the album’s title for a lot of people (your writer included). The song’s title is short for Delaware County, were Berdan grew up, and the track scuffs you up with noise-infested guitars, drums that bruise, and the end simmering in anguish. “The Shadow of God’s Hand” has gnarly riffs and a slow-driving pace that grinds its gears and smokes heavily before the track suddenly speeds up and goes for broke, with Berdan lightning the torches. The drums destroy and the pace is manic, finally burning out in madness. “Life in Remission” has a blinding tempo when it starts, spraying shrapnel and grease as the playing thrashes heavily while the vocals mar your psyche. Static fills your head before panic ensues and causes an uncomfortable head rush before the back end is blown out. The title cut feels like it’s being beamed off a humming generator as synth waves crash, and the beats carve a path. “No one can save me tonight,” Berdan calls matter of factly as he later admits, “I am everything they say I am,” also an incredibly heavy statement. The emotional pall is thick and weighty, with the track ends in a jolt of unsettling power.

“All We’ve Ever Wanted” spills feedback as Berdan wonders, “How far will I have to go to feel anything at all?” as noise just pierces the ears. The playing blasts heavily as the menace spreads slowly, utterly punishing right to the end. “Dispatches from the Gutter” deals deadly blows as it’s fast and destructive, ripping screws from metal sheets as the guitars chugs and blast away at the earth. The vocals feel like they’ve been processed through a blender while noise explodes and draws to an abrupt end. “This Won’t End Well” has the drums destroying everything in front of it, leading a death march without mercy, with Berdan’s vocals mauling you in its clutches. It feels like a storm blown apart as a heavy sludge beating emerges, while everything is swallowed into a halo of noise. Closer “I Am the Cancer” draws inspiration from Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridien, with Berdan singing as the character the judge. The 7:51-long track rips from the gates as the playing curves toward hell, and death-like riffs bring heavy pain. Synth strangeness mixes with a hornet swarm of an assault, as your head fills with war, the guitars work catches fire, and Berdan howls, “God will not love you forever,” repeatedly as the track convulses in an ocean of reverberations.

Uniform dig deep into the machination and psychological DNA of a person with both redeeming and damning qualities who is not concerned with saving the day or burning it down, simply looking to find a way to survive. If we’re being honest with ourselves, there are parts of “Shame” where we can find many hints of our makeup, and there’s really no reason to let that defeat us. Sometimes just living to the next day unscathed is triumph alone, and those people can find their stories right in these songs.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://geni.us/Uniform_Shame

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

We generally don’t do this type of thing, but today and this effort are completely different. Today is the first Friday of the month, which means Bandcamp is waiving its fees for all artists so the people who made the music can benefit. But this one is even bigger than that.

At 10 a.m. EST, or in an hour, there is a 46-track compilation going up called “Shut It Down – Benefit for the Movement for Black Lives” that’s going to cost you just $10 (you can preorder this right now). The money raised for this Bandcamp-issued release will go toward Movement for Black Lives, which I linked up below so you can learn more about them. The compilation is the brainchild of Mani Mostofi of Racetraitor and features metal, hardcore, punk, and many other types of heavy music from bands united on the cause that has truly rushed to the surface with the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Jacob Blake (my hometown of Pittsburgh is hardly unscathed with the deaths of Jonny Gammage and Antwon Rose Jr.), and all the other people of color who have died at the hands of those allegedly hired to protect.

On this collection, there are tracks from bands as wide ranging as Sunn 0))), Thou, Rwake (first new music in nine years!), Cloud Rat, Primitive Man, Amygdala, Minority Threat, Modern Life Is War, Jesus Piece, Xibalba, Dawn Ray’d, Redbait, Neckbeard Deathcamp, the aforementioned Racetraitor,  and so many more. The organization this benefits strives to end the criminalization and dehumanization of Black people in the United States, an effort that we here at Meat Mead Metal support completely and to the end.

Check the links below for more and to buy this great collection. I’ve already pre-purchased this record, and while this won’t solve all the problems, it is a further declaration that Black lives do matter, and we cannot stop saying it until they all truly do. Black Lives Matter.

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

For more on Movement for Black Lives, go here: https://m4bl.org/

I think we all miss live shows. For me, I had a huge year of shows planned from going to Maryland Deathfest basically just to see Dismember, to the 2020 installment of Migration Fest, to seeing bands such as Sheer Mag and Borknagar in my hometown, to finally getting to witness Faith No More in the flesh again. This virus ruined everything from that aspect.

So, all that taken into account, it probably sounds really strange and irresponsible as fuck to say there’s a live record coming out that was recorded during the pandemic, but there’s more to it than that. UK-based doom/sludge/hardcore mashers Allfather hardly seem the type to defy science and medical experts and produce a live recording in front of a packed audience, so they did the next best thing. The band—vocalist Tom Ballard, guitarist Alan Cordner, bassist Andrew Day, drummer Guy Smith—headed to Century Audio recording studio and blasted out a live EP “Century Sessions Vol. 1” that put no one in any danger, except for the psyche of those hammered by these songs. Included are three Allfather favorites, as well as two new cuts you get to hear for the first time, and it’s a raucous, satisfying collection that sort of ices over those wounds from not being able to see our favorite bands in the flesh.

We start with a rousing raw version of “Citadels” as everything feels lively when Ballard’s voice rushes in and leaves bruising. Growls and shrieks shatter glass while the soloing lights up, with Ballard declaring, “Once more we ride,” burning hopeful, determined torches when he ends with the familiar call, “We should be burning flags and raising hell.” “Raskolnikov” has drums rupturing as the track crushes open with gnarly wails and scorched guitar work, as the tempo boils. Ballard’s vicious, repeated shrieks of, “I, the murderer!” smashes senses, with the chaos bleeding into “Black Lungs,” a new track that feels like a riot approaching, with Ballard’s screams quaking the earth. The track is thrashy and aggressive, something that’ll fit alongside their other work very well but also entice appetites for what’s ahead. Soot is smeared as retribution is sought, with Ballard howling, “Put yourself in the ground,” as the song kicks up mud. “By Sword, By Famine, By Plague” is another crusher from their back catalog, namely 2018’s “And All Will Be Desolation.” This take is a little longer than the album version, erupting with vicious shrieks and some awesome bluesy swagger later on, as the track batters the senses, ending in a pit of smothering doom and violent sludge. We end with another new cut “Poison Soil” that lands punches early and opens the gates to domination. “Behold your extinction!” Ballard warns as heavy strikes rain down, the drums decimate, and the band opens a thrash clinic. From there, the doom center is punctured, guitars bubble up, and the band mashes bodies to the end.

It’s not easy to produce a live documented actually performed during the quarantine era without being an irresponsible asshole not caring about other people’s well-being. Allfather are not those assholes, as they found a safe, yet effective way to rip out some old favorites and give a quick taste of what’s to come. “Century Sessions Vol. 1” is that live recording you didn’t realize would make you desperate to experience live music again and satisfied to get this close.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://allfather1.bandcamp.com/

There aren’t very many good things you can say about the quarantine era we’re in, which pretty much goes without saying. In fact, one silver lining we can talk about is the country and the world have been able to pay more attention to injustices that have been plaguing the United States since so many have the time and fewer distractions.

That, of course, still means that many are hurting, and the fact that people of color in this country remain targets of the police, keep getting killed, continually are criticized for how they protest has reached a boil-over point. Progressive metal juggernaut Oceans of Slumber have their attention squarely on these issues on their excellent fourth record, a self-titled affair, and the fact they have singer Cammie Gilbert fronting the band hammers home these issues more. Gilbert says she took her position as a Black woman living in the south as well as what she sees people of color going through all over again and applied all of this to her words and stunning performance. Racism is a major topic of this 12-track, 77-minute beast, but there also are themes of loss and emotional turmoil that she and the band—guitarists/backing vocalists Jessie Santos and Alexander Lucian, bassist/guitarist Semir Ozerkan, drummer/piano player Dobber Beverly, synth player Mat Aleman—tackle. But it’s not all total darkness as hope and an injection of strength are woven deeply into this album.

“Soundtrack to My Last Day” is the 7:35 opener, and it immediately sets the stage for the entire record, blasting fully on fire, with Gilbert’s incredible voice leading the way. “I’m so far away, I’m so far from home,” she calls, as acoustics wash into the scene, and elegant darkness spreads before growls crush the mood. The journey remains incredibly compelling as the singing pours in, and the track has a calming end. “Pray for Fire” starts calmly in lush waters, leading in with acoustics as Gilbert levels, “Dying alone, and my roots are buried deep.” Synth washes in as the track opens harder, with Gilbert commanding, “No room for peaceful resolution,” while the soloing rips apart, and we’re trading off between crushing hell and angelic haze before the track comes to a vengeful end. “A Return to the Earth Below” is a tremendous cut with Gilbert’s soulful voice leading the way and a great chorus, where she sings, “When darkness gathers, we are falling.” Whirry synth settles in as the track bursts again, and the vocals soar as the song bows out. “Imperfect Divinity” is a quick instrumental cut with swelling organs and guitars swimming through dark waters toward “The Adorned Fathomless Creation” that starts with what sounds like backward growls. The insanity mixes with Gilbert’s singing, moving toward bruising as an emotional dark cloud crawls menacingly, while Gilbert calls, “They’re coming for you now … coming to collect what you’ve taken.” Guitars surge as doomy waters collect, and everything comes to a muddy end. “To the Sea” begins with bells chiming and synth chewing, as the deluge of emotion digs into your heart, with Gilbert demanding, “Say no more, let me go into the sea,” as the track rushes closed.

“The Colors of Grace” is a powerful ballad where Gilbert is joined by Mike Moss from Antimatter, as they trade lines amid a rising tide. “You saved me from myself,” Gilbert declares from deep within her, as the song keeps sweeping and collecting followers along the way, as the strive to be OK and just find some balance make their waves. “I Mourn These Yellow Leaves” starts with a synth gush as Gilbert’s vocals soar again, simmering in slow, collecting waters before the walls come down. Ugliness tears through as growls pound away, the drums are smashed, and the song heads back into full force. “Into the flames to be consumed,” Gilbert commands as the track sifts into a strange fog, moody guitars cut the tension, and the track comes to a heart-wrenching end. “September (Those Who Come Before)” is an instrumental with sifting keys and the melodies overwhelming, feeling like the perfect musical segue into “Total Failure Apparatus” that boils in synth strings before the bottom drops out hard. There is tidal-waving singing and blistering growls as Gilbert calls, “I know the road is treacherous … but it’s the only road I know,” acknowledging the danger ahead but knowing the rough terrain must be confronted. Creaky growls work through, which is honestly kind of too strange, but the song recovers and has a rousing finish. “The Red Flower” greets with striking synth and dramatic playing rolling in, as somber piano notes drip, and the heart quivers. “Unwanted seedlings, the soil takes your sins,” Gilbert bursts with reassuring, open arms as the blood surges, and the track ends pushes back into the ground. The final cut is a cover of Type O Negative’s “Wolf Moon” which they smartly given their own touch and they don’t try to do a faithful reading, which makes this even better. It’s both progressively alluring and gothy just enough to pay homage but also give their own DNA so it can have a boost of new life.

It goes without saying we live in times that are unkind to so many people, where justice only serves a select few, and where people are starting to wake up to what’s going on and refusing to accept these terms. Not that Oceans of Slumber are exclusively going at that on this record, but the strife and struggle is there, and the way they battle through musically, and especially with Gilbert’s vocals, should help be a beam of light to those in the midst of the fight. We need more records and bands like this in heavy music that can acknowledge the pain but also light a path toward righteousness.

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

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

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

I’ve been fairly lucky in my life when it comes to earthquakes. I’ve only been in a few of them so far, and none of them were devastating in the least, so I have no idea the trauma people who live in areas of great seismic waves have to deal with. I make references to them a lot when I write about particularly punishing music because I imagine these records making plates shift to rumble the earth.

Brazilian doom/sludge pounders Jupiterian more than live up to that billing on their crushing third record “Protosapien,” an album that feels like it pours on the trauma in such dangerous fashion, you want to start taking valuables down from the walls and lamps from their tables. Six tracks wrap over about 36 minutes, which is a nice-sized serving and just enough to leave bruising all over your body. The band—guitarist/vocalist/synth player V, guitarist A, bassist R, drummer G—has been creating forceful, clubbing art for the past seven years, but this record and this moment are where they are at their finest, and it also appears to hint that things are just getting started with this band.

“Homecoming” starts the record as an instrumental intro, feeling a little like a horror soundtrack as insects buzz and horns ache, trudging through the mud to “Mere Humans” that mashes open and powders bones. Guitars swirl into pockets of mucky doom while the growls collect, and the mind swims through psychosis. Noise wails as an ugly fury lands, then chants rattle while a humid pall drapes over everything, as the staggering heat burns away. “Voidborn” has guitars welling up and stomping before brighter tones emerge, and sludge brings on a hypnotic fog. Growls menace as the song weighs down as holes are torn into flesh, and then we’re back to sweltering temperatures when the sounds crumble, and everything turns to dust.

“Capricorn” has sounds spreading like a threatening storm as the riffs pile up, and things get strangely spacious before thick basslines coil, and vile growls bubble to the surface. Shrieks rain down as the playing swaggers, churning in place while the grinding gives off smoke like a mountain of tires on fire, and a hypnotic bend drives to the end. “Starless” punches open as guitars swirl, unleashing a gazey atmosphere that swallows you whole. Growls bubble as a cosmic vibe makes its way through, making everything go numb before the noise nest is struck again. Jolts of energy add to the power, while the leads spread, and the ending dissipates. “Earthling Bloodline” closes the record, starting with slow-driving doom as the pace lurches, and gargantuan growls penetrate worlds. The playing lumbers as the tempo hisses violently, cavernous hell erupts, and the track melts into the fog.

Jupiterian’s muddy, spacey doom feels like it’s intoxicating you with alien strains of DNA, making your brain go to liquid, your body spill into the ground. “Protosapien” is a massive collection that’s like a monster from whatever far-off planet they’re conjuring wrapping their tentacles and squeezing you to death. It’s muddy, violent, and warped, a great slab of doom that crushes the earth from within.

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

To buy the album (North America), go here: https://transcendingobscurity.aisamerch.com/

Or here (Europe): https://transcendingobscurity.aisamerch.de/shop-en

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