I have friends who don’t really pay close attention to the news and societal occurrences, and I envy them very often because that dissociation would be a relief pretty much every day when I wake up. I don’t know how much longer I can watch the climate being battered by idiots, most of the same people excusing away the obvious crimes of a buffoon, and the horrible treatment left untreated toward marginalized people in our community. Burn it the down.

I would not necessarily think of English atmospheric black metal band Fen as one that can unite with such feelings, but on their stunning new record “Monuments to Absence,” their rage and vitriol is palpable and flows freely. Look no further than the red-splashed artwork on the cover, then hear these eight searing songs that this band—vocalist/guitarist/synth player Frank “The Watcher” Allain, bassist/vocalist Adam “Grungyn” Allain, drummer J.G—commits to their seventh album, and you’ll still feel generous gusts of wind but also the bloody fury existing in their hearts as they look upon the same world. Watching humanity on the path to willing self-destruction and the hopelessness that results can be enough to get your own juices going, wondering how long it will take for humanity to wake up, if that possibility even remains.

“Scouring Ignorance” opens ominously before the heaviness arrives, slashing and rushing, coming with fiery passion. Clean calls mix in with gargantuan shrieks, the dizzying pace makes the room move, and growls devastate, bringing a spirited burst that makes blood rush freely. The title track has sounds hanging in the air and mixing with a penetrating fog, clean singing bellowing, shrieks following up as the intensity increases. Guitars spiral as gut-wrenching playing flexes, storming with pressure as it moves and soaks the land, bringing an incredible infusion of energy. Power chugs, guitars soar, and a synth cloud thickens and adds a mystical sense that lingers. “Thrall” drips in with dreary guitars before things light up, and the ground rumbles with power. Growls punch as the leads mount an offensive, everything whipping with cyclone force, “oh-oh” calls getting into your bloodstream. Things get dreamy before jolts light the sky, guitars burn, and a moody haze swallows everything. “To Silence and Abyss We Reach” erupts with jarring guitars and a great scorching push, clean singing numbing, electric ferocity elevating the excitement. The playing engulfs, splattering and adding to the raucous pace, trudging and slashing at will. The blistering continues as rousing group singing makes hairs stands on flesh, the chaos spills over, and everything returns to oblivion.

“Truth Is Futility” emerges from a thick fog, strong singing comes along with it, and the melodies get even heartier and earthier before destruction comes calling. Vicious howls knife through flesh, and then a strange aura arrives, bringing a cosmic woosh, letting the drums open and bleed freely, growls clobbering on top of everything. Heat scrapes, a daring path is forged, and a melodic infusion floods the ground. “Eschaton’s Gift” glimmers as guitars travel through mud, growls spill blood in the dirt, and the immersive playing flows with great strength. Thing get grisly and punchy, drubbing energy jolting muscle. A prog rush increases the energy, slashing with vigor, flowing out into mystery. “Wracked” lets melodies wash all over, the guitars following suit and creating something hypnotic as clean calls add a cooler breeze. Then the belly is opened with violence, shrieks gut, and while some of the playing gives off a cloudy blue-sky vibe, and there’s sinister intent buried. The foundation crumbles as metallic intensity surfaces, a colorful splurge adds new textures, and the playing slowly liquefies and soaks into the ground. Closer “All Is Lost” flows calmly, letting the atmosphere develop, finally bringing lightning charges that singe flesh. Shrieks crush as the speed increases, fiery stomping amplifying the damage, the guitars adding a sheen that blinds your eyes. Growls wrench, clean calls dig deep within you, and an emotional high peaks right as the record gasps its final charges.

The rage and blazing passion in Fen is evident on “Monuments to Absence,” as direct and furious a record as this band’s ever created. Through these eight tracks and 67 minutes, Fen unleash some of their most intense and bloodiest feelings, making what was already a heavily emotional mental makeup even more explosive. This is a band with so much more left to say, and this go around, they rightfully take us all to task for what we’ve become and the improvements we seem hellbent not to make.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://lnk.spkr.media/fen-monuments

For more on the label, go here: https://en.prophecy.de/

We all get a little too comfortable sometimes both with what we do and what we consume. For the most part there is nothing wrong with that because most of us have a lot of other things occupying our minds, so it’s not always easy to push ourselves. Bands and records that do that for us can be a gift as we just need to let those forces into our minds and have them begin to stretch us.

“Caverns of Occultic Hatred” is the first full-length record from Liam McMahon-helmed Vile Ritual, and if you’re willing to leave your comfort zone when it comes to death metal, this might be the perfect journey for you. With eight tracks spread over 40 minutes, McMahon makes the most of the time here, creating a cavernous, at times unsettling journey through your psychosis and deep into your guts. Following on what was built with this project’s smaller, introductory releases, Vile Ritual dig deeper into your brain, scooping out the cobwebs from your skull and making you see this twisted art form in a way most other acts don’t tread. It’s an experience, and a scarring one.

“Formless” opens in a low rumble and moves into cavernous noise as burly death begins to rain down, battering as guitars just go off. Sludgy tracking and steamy air help wilt while disorienting playing makes heads spin as riffs zap, and everything is swallowed in miasmal echo. “Aimless” brings welling guitars before growls slide under and are buried by force, the playing acting as a battering ram. Ferocity becomes a greater factor as monstrous jaws open, the guitars grind hard, and minds melt, the battering working away until everything is overcome by noise. “Gyromancy” is clobbering and devastating, a properly dizzying experience that whips heavily as the pressure builds. The power continues to sweep as the playing mauls, growls smear, and a vicious streak robs you of breath and leaves you heaving. “Chapel” is humid as it starts, growls echoing and marring, the riffs attacking with great power. There’s a strange sense of mysticism that unfolds as the guitars numb, everything slipping into eeriness.

“Manifestation” feels strange and disorienting, the synth cloud spreading and infecting before the power truly kicks in and unloads damage. Growls slither before whispering haunts, and the playing slowly torches, making the burning sink in deeply. Sounds reverberate and hang in the air, everything fading into a halo of buzzing. “Black Chrism” assaults with swirling guitars and oppressive heat, totally battering your psyche. The filth increases and eats into your brain, ripping muscle from bone, overcoming with a short burst of devastation that buries hope in the dirt. “Living Hell” just bludgeons, the growls engorging, bashing away and sizzling with static. After basking in mud, the track tears apart, cavernous blazing spilling blood, the growls laying down burly punishment and laying waste in pain and power. Closer “Void” instantly goes for broke, the playing openly burning, growls adding to festering wounds. The growls menace as the drumming completely explodes, laying waste and picking bodies apart, cosmic keys dawning and dragging everything into the cosmos.

Vile Ritual have that rare ability to expose minds to new possibilities while also dousing psyches with acid, eating away at vital impulses. “Caverns of Occultic Hatred” is a force with which to content both mentally and physically, a chaotic challenge that leaves you vulnerable and soaking with pain. This is music that rises above the mere metallic strains it unleashes on an unsuspecting world; it’s a mental beast that knows how to take you apart and does it unapologetically.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://sentientruin.com/releases/vile-ritual-caverns-of-occultic-hatred

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

Death metal can be fun, right? I know there are all sets of unwritten rules for the harshest brands of heavy metal, and I’m pretty sure I’m always violating them. But I’ve always found easy ways to enjoy death metal and, like, feel good at the same time. Can you really listen to, say, Carcass and Cannibal Corpse and not also feel some joy? Should I turn in my website?

I got to thinking of this when taking on “Spectral Intercession,” the debut full-length from Scottish death squad Coffin Mulch and … hold on. You can’t listen to a band called Coffin Mulch and not also feel a big sense of fun. Yeah, this is deadly shit, cut right from the heart of the ’90s, brimming with wicked power. It’s a monster of a record that this band—vocalist Al, guitarist Derek Milne, bassist Rich, drummer Fraser—throws every ounce of themselves into, as you can feel their energy and dedication to the cause. And yeah, it’s a fucking good time, and it also will pulverize you, so be aware of that strength.

The title track opens with crazed howls and complete mania, giving off an old-school death vibe, creaky and crawling with cobwebs. The scathing force continues, taking on a filthy low-end rumble, spiraling guitars, and a strange alien force, pushing toward an infernal stomp that smashes guts. “Into the Blood” is sooty and grimy, the wild howls eating into your flesh and muscle, the bass clubbing as slow-meting menace melts flesh. A fiery rampage takes off as howls echo, and the jolting electricity drives through veins. “Mental Suicide” is doomy when it drops, the steam making the stench grow more immersive, the heaviness working into skulls. The misery drags as the force blows apart, ending in a pit of misery. “In the Grip of Death” is mucky and mauling, a calculated attacker that brings threatening growls and slashing speed. The fury crushes without letting you breathe, this short burst moving in and back out.

“Fall of Gaia” is muddy and has raspy wails and a crushing ferocity, the soloing erupting from the carnage, sounding swaggering and bluesy. The pace turns back and clobbers, bringing a vicious, dirty finish to a deadly beast. “Gateway to the Unseen” continues with the peril, Al’s vocals sounding like they’re coming for your sanity. The playing slips into a dirty groove, feeling catchy but also gritty, rampaging with fury until it finally splatters closed. “Infernal Mass” brings doomy fumes, thorny vocals, and a thrashing intensity that builds as the song goes on. The leads heat up as the muck increases, bursts club with horrific power, and everything ends as brutally as possible. Closer “Eternal Enslavement” blasts open with driving drums, bass slithering, and a scathing, almost drunken tear through your psyche. The playing carves at your sanity as the bass chugs, horror collects, and scorching howls eat into guts, dripping out into warped psychosis.

There are pounds of filth and fun on “Spectral Intercession,” and even though one of those words can be offensive by some people when describing death metal, it’s a total benefit to this album. Coffin Mulch also provide brutality and violence, bloodshed and horror, and over these eight tracks, it feels like a complete serving of chaos that leaves you full and satisfied. This is just this band’s first full foray into destruction, and they do so with gusto and force that can leave you overwhelmed.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.memento-mori.es/store.php

For more on the label, go here: https://www.memento-mori.es/

True Norwegian black metal is a term that brings a lot of feelings, images, and ideas, a force in a sub-genre that already was shrouded with plenty of darkness before the progenitors of this sound came along. While black metal has shifted and evolved as time has gone on, there’s still a hunger for the raw, deadly stuff, something we don’t get enough of in this era.

Luckily, a band that takes on that Nordic mantle and celebrates it with passion and fire is Tsjuder, and they’re back with “Helvegr,” a bloody, maniacal album that reminds just what those formative years wrought and continue to provide. It’s been eight years since their last record “Antiliv,” and on this album, the band—vocalist/bassist Nag, guitarist/vocalist Draugluin, drummer Jon Rice—take up those old torches that burn again and as brightly as ever. Despite parting ways with long-time drummer Anti-Christian, the band forged ahead and made one of the rawest, harshest records on their resume, but one that also packs a ton of melody and infectious power. They’re also joined by guests Pål Emanuelsen (guitar) of Krypt and Seidemann (vocals) of 1349 to flesh out this nine-track collection that opens ugly new wounds.

“Iron Beast” erupts in full as it delivers crazed shrieks and a metallic menace that moves dangerously toward you. The rushing chaos speeds and torments, whipping through with force, the guitar work bringing melody and savagery in equal portions. “Prestehammeren” opens sounding like a jet engine soaring, and then speed and power ignite, destroying the senses and setting fires there is no chance of controlling. Riffs chug as some doomy shades slip in, darkened guitar work leading out into the shadows. “Surtr” runs seven minutes and soaks in humidity at first before the skies pour, and ferocity opens its jaws. The pace remains steady and punchy, manic energy spilling and making adrenaline run, slipping away on tornadic madness. “Gamle-Erik” is blinding, coming at you with violent intensity that feels threatening, the vocals shredding as the heat spikes. Total destruction mounts an assault as the maniacal energy spreads, tearing away and bringing your sanity with it.

“Chaos Fiend” splits open with shrieks scorching, and a mangling attack pushes into a wilting steam. The fury hangs in the air as growls rumble, then the playing numbs the senses before one more vicious front smashes and scrapes at bone. “Gods of Black Blood” dawns and suddenly brings a strangulating force, the shrieks curdling as the riffs gain enveloping strength. Shrieks curdle as the guitars spindle and challenge psyches, and howls echo and eat into your brain wiring. The title track runs 7:36 and takes its time opening, the fires started and slowly fanned, shrieks bubbling as the thrashy tones start to gain traction. The tempo gets gritty, and some goddamn tasty riffs unfurl, adding meat to ribcages and making things catchier and deadlier. Leads catch fire as the intensity explodes, Nag wailing, “Die! You are burning,” as things grow ominous in tone, everything fading into creaky fire. “Faenskap og Død” immediately comes unglued, the guitars speeding and splattering, scorching howls blackening flesh. Fast and ferocious power explodes and injects barbaric drama, the playing hurtling toward the earth’s crust and smashing into hell. Closer “Hvit Død” is an eerie, instrumental piece built with chilling noises, guitars creating a fog, and electrifying impulses numbing your nerves from the pain.

After an eight-year layoff and roster shuffling, Tsjuder slip back into their black metal throne like they never left in the first place. “Helvegr” is a crushing trip back into black metal’s second-wave heart, a time when this style of music was feared and at its bloodiest, something this band never lost. This sub-genre has changed a lot over the decades, and there are all kinds of way to express this dark art, but Tsjuder remain true to their mission, delivering savagery that feels like it feeds right from the roots.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/band/tsjuder

Or here (International): https://shop.season-of-mist.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.season-of-mist.com/

Black metal has changed and expanded so much over the past three decades (the last 10 years the most of all), that this style of music can barely resemble how it felt when Norway’s fiery revolt got under way and shaped the sound. More experimentation arrived, and bands took more chances, which made the style more unpredictable, but it still strikes hard when the roots are unearthed.

Mysterious U.S. black metal force Lucifixion could have been right at home in the early 1990s, and their debut full-length “Trisect Joys of Pierced Hearts” is one that could unite younger fans with those who have long complained about the rulebook being torched. Technically branded as raw black metal, these nameless ghouls add a dynamic element to that, which gives it a freshness and jolting electricity. This is a great sounding record, not one that comes off like it was recorded on cheap equipment and stereo microphones, which makes it more evident how violently devastating they are as musicians. It’s dark, imposing, and fiery, and every second of this thing rips with sadistic intent.

“Hammer of Fevered Lights” opens with tornadic guitars that mix up brains, and then the shrieks strike hard and shockingly, the maniacal energy coming off as both violent and disorienting. A tremendous section of guitar work rampages, something that’s a major factor on this record, and that fiery assault gasps its last and leaves you buried. “Howl, Thy Desolate Sound” unleashes punk-bloodied guitars and a sweltering energy, the playing decimating the senses and eventually turning dangerously fluid. Shrieks rip as the guitars bubble, the trudging pressure becoming a devastating creature, plastering you with nails and shrapnel, the fumes soaring into eternal flames. “Feral Mass” opens in noise before it begins a full decimation, the aggravated power turning into a devious force. Hellish intensity spikes as the humidity builds and makes breathing a challenge, the shrieks injecting its claws and reaching for organs. Channeled chaos punishes as savagery splatters, slowly slipping into the earth.

“Agony Fugue” is an instrumental piece with sounds welling, chilling synth making your flesh crawl, and unexpected serenity creeping before entering into “O, To Strike One Great and Final Wound on Thee Sum of Thee Earthe” that immediately combusts. Flames climb as hell enters earth, black metal ferocity unhinges its jaws and begins relentless consumption, and the pace continues to rampage. Howls curse as the tempo builds, making your blood race as you desperately cling to sanity. “Iron Outer Midnyghte” is the longest track, running 15:11 and immediately engulfing everything in its reach. Blistering speed tangles as the vocals blister and guitars rise, the bass plodding forcefully. The heat spreads and overcomes, dizzying power makes your anxiety spike, and the pressure hangs in the air, numbing before the playing crashes anew. Soloing blazes as noise bubbles, the chaos ignites, and the crazed force eventually cascades, washing into instrumental closer “Trisect Joys.” Thirsty rains, synth steam, and hypnosis combine, the guitars creating a thick steam that practically makes you lose consciousness.

Lucifixion’s primitive, barbaric black metal has far more flashes of glory than expected, and while they go for the raw aesthetic, they are far more dynamic than that on “Trisect Joy of Pierced Hearts.” The music has tenets of black metal’s feral heart and roots but also rises above that and creates something smothering and exciting. Our serving of black metal is overly generous as a whole, and bands such as Lucifixion find ways to add slashing fury and chaos to remind that this style can be a ferocious, mentally shocking art form when it’s done with this much focus and bloodlust.

For more on the band, go here: https://lucifixion666.bandcamp.com/album/feral-mass

To buy the album, go here: http://sentientruin.com/releases/lucifixion-trisect-joy-of-pierced-hearts

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

Trying to communicate with one another, especially with someone with which you have strife, is never an easy thing to do. To clarify, I don’t mean internet numbskulls who spew misinformation and debunked conspiracy bullshit. Don’t even try to talk to them. Instead, these relationships can be ones that matter most in your life, or that at least hold meaning, and the gulf between you can be tough to bridge.

Pittsburgh noise mashers Mirakler tackle that subject on “How I Became the Devil,” the band’s debut full-length record. Grasping the energies spewed forth by bands such as Unsane, Nirvana, the Melvins, Helmet, and others of that ilk, this unit—vocalist/guitarist Daniel Gene, bassist Will Novalis, drummer Matt Langille (John Kerr of Pyrithe played drums on the album)—used to make these 15 tracks as volatile and striking as they are. This also is a record that changes its shape with each listen. My feelings transformed with each trip, and the more I thought about the connection issues in my life, these songs became more embedded in my psyche.

“The Good Thief” is a quick intro bathing in feedback, mauling drums, and scorching misery, pouring right into “Ecstatic Fields of Love and Grace” that’s jarring and abrasive. The wild howls jerk as the bludgeoning thickens, trudging into detached singing that melts brains before draining away. “Egg” tears in as the bass drives hard, yowled vocals making your nerve endings tingle. Grungy bass drags, the playing pounds with feral fury, and we’re on to “I Am Violence” that attacks with muscular riffs. The vocals warble as a calculated attack gets under way, bringing smearing force and gutting shrieks. Sludge compounds as noise spits, crazed howls scramble brains, and the playing slowly spreads into the fog. “The Bad Thief” unloads scraping guitars and mangling force, the playing stinging flesh and clobbering, the instrumental piece wounding already vulnerable flesh. “Instant Drugs” chars and jolts as the bass slinks, everything else thrashing relentlessly. Howls crush as the guitars strike, the fervor bubbles as the menace looks you in the eye as it takes you under. “This Is Brit Pop” is slightly less approachable than its title hints, menacing riffs coming down with clobbering force. Wails reverberate on their own before the attack rejoins the fray, the rage boiling over, the thrashing madness opening up wounds that are anything but superficial. Rampaging snarls strike and create psychosis in which you’re entranced.

“Wet Ground Brings Rain” is a quick interlude with guitars glowing, sticks tapping, and the bass lurking, leading into “The Fireworks and the Stars” that snakes with ominous intent. The playing turns into a buzzsaw as the force smashes away, the howls leaving brush burns. The bass solidifies and gets muscular, the fires spread, and only spare parts are left behind. “Kenny” brings start/stop blasting, the guitars glimmer, and slurry growls play games with your psyche. Spiraling and muddy playing chews into bone, the vocals warble, and the punishing final bursts take off heads. “How Many More Will Die” is an interlude with the bass sneaking up on you, noise rising, and strings recoiling, feeling like a loose screw rolling around in a dryer. “Exodus (A Continuous Mutation)” slaughters souls, the bass work leaving oil slicks behind, the heat rising dangerously. The battering increases and becomes an even more terrifying force, molten hell pours lava into every passageway, and the tourniquet is turned, choking out all forces of life. “My Battery Is Low and It’s Getting Dark” is the final interlude with noises vibrating, calls reaching out over desolation, and a strange cloud hovering, slipping into “Christ B.C.” that jars shockingly from the start. Abrasive force and crazed cries land hard, the guitars melting and gutting. The insanity suddenly multiplies as the shrieks return and torment, stabbing with horrific intent. Closer “The Hill” ramps up and openly stampedes, the grunge energy spreading its filthy wings, the guitars jabbing with insult. Rolling darkness makes safety impossible as the playing mauls in place, leaving every escape blocked, percussive chiming tingling your spine, and final gasps coating your lungs with soot.

While the struggle to communicate is at the heart of “How I Became the Devil,”  Mirakler have no problem getting their point across with the force of a sledgehammer on this record. The bloody husks of the ’90s breathe wicked new life, and their modern fingerprints all over this thing make this album feel like a runaway steel beam looking to smash your skull. This is an electric, agitated document that is impossible to digest without taking on a good bit of its mental damage.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.reptilianrecords.com/products/743259-mirakler-how-i-became-the-devil-lp

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

Death metal is an easy art form from a presentation standpoint. Not from a musical angle, because that shit is fucking hard to do. But with the right name and violently crafted album and song titles, you should be able to find your audience fairly easily, as long as you get enough exposure. Are you going to be confused at all when you see music by a band called Grotesqueries? No, you’re not.

The Boston-based death metal crushers are arriving with their vicious debut full-length offering “Vile Crematory,” yet another box checked by these guys when crafting their sub-genre aesthetic. I don’t mean to suggest as cheekily as I did that there was some think tank involved or something. Instead, this band—vocalist Mike Buonomo, guitarists Brendan O’Hare and Connor Thompson, bassist John Rainis, drummer Yianni Tranxidis—just knows what they’re doing and are coming at you with vitriol and chaos, making their first major statement something that leaves no doubt. This is vicious, ugly death metal, and if you appreciate its bloodiest forms, you’ll be right at home here.

“Hypnagogic Transmutation” opens with strange sounds and warbling weirdness, spreading for the first couple minutes before things are torn open and begin to stomp guts. Guttural growls kill as the fast, snarling playing wraps like a constrictor, death warping as gurgling panic lashes bones. “Corpsejuice” ignites and crushes, brutal growls leave bruising on your trunk, and the mangling power begins to flex its muscles. Ugliness continues to build as the growls engorge, whipping by and leaving you retching.  “Gorrified (The Ageless Malignancy)” brings bass buzzing like an overflowing hornet nest, the playing unloading and overwhelming. Growls mash as sinewy playing punishes, then the guitars go off and set fires, spreading sludge and torching faces, dealing final blows of pulverizing pain.

“Meat You With Chain” clobbers right away, steering through fast, grim hell, the menacing blows crushing viciously. The leads build steam as the guitars bubble over, adding putridity and chaos to the festering wounds. “The Dweller’s Threnody” is doomy as it lurches through the mud, becoming a battering force that destroys bones. The guitars angle and chew, feeling mucky and grimy, the howls scraping flesh from bone, rampaging into the arms of total slaughter. “Madness Breed” is gutting as it trudges through, the growls making your stomach contents churn. The playing turns fast and slashing, melody simmers and changes the colors, and strong leads devastate, ending everything in a bone-crushing blast. Closer “Dismembered Fears” is thunderous and storming, bringing delirium and slashing force, the skies darkening as howls crush. Speed becomes a factor as the guitars burst into hyper speed, the playing sinks into the muck, and then the heat returns, drubbing and scorching to the end.

Death and its stench are in the air and poison your lungs on “Vile Crematory,” a record that sounds like the soundtrack to your worst nightmare. Grotesqueries ply you with enough stomach-turning chaos and massive force to leave you sore for weeks, and when your experience is over, you are strangely satisfied, even if it’s in the most warped possible way. This is a punishing first full-length from a band that is just getting their claws into death metal’s corpse, and they seem far from ending their feeding.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://caligarirecords.storenvy.com/

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

There are records that are like comfort food for me in that the music hits the right spot no matter what, and the caloric content doesn’t matter because sometimes it’s OK to just indulge in good shit. I’m not going to go on a run of albums I classify in this category because I don’t feel like it, but I think we all have these, and any visit with them is fulfilling in ways maybe others don’t understand.

“Blood Sabbath” is the first full-length from Serpent Corpse, and from the first time I heard it, it filled me up with what I need from a metal band. It’s doomy, there are death vibes, and there’s a punk bravado that is impossible to miss. It’s music to soundtrack your mania or a healthy sojourn into madness that this band (a lineup is hard to find, some folks may have left, but this is the best one I can find)—guitarists Adam Breault, Chris Lecroix, vocalist/bassist Andrew Haddad, drummer Zachariah Su—committed to tape and unleashed upon an unsuspecting world. It’s a good, smearing time you won’t forget.

“Spell of the Eternal Serpent” is a quick intro cut that collects noise, zaps, and a synth haze, the guitars dripping and bleeding into “Electric Eye” that’s thrashy and fiery. The vocals are more like a monstrous yell, Haddad howling, “With a metal fist, we shall crush,” as the leads swell, and burnt offerings are left behind. “Nemesis” chars as drums hammer, the playing trudges, and the vocals echo, sending shivers down the spine. Guitars fire up and scorch as the driving power pushes into your chest, the darkness swelling and weighing down on your soul. “Let the Rats Feed” brings explosive guitars and raw howls, the humidity increasing dangerously and pushing into your psyche. Bruising thrashing makes its way through as the tension builds dangerously, the howls lurching through suddenly jarring speed before blasting out. “Land of Rot and Misfortune” is a mind fucker from the start, opening a hole in your belly and tunneling through, calculated hell making the blows rain down with precision. The guitars creep before taking on a Slayer feel, storming with fire before fading into madness.

“Crucifixion Shrine” is an all-out brawl, dealing decimating punishment as the guitars spiral and aggravate your balance. The track takes on a dark punk energy as the playing barrels through barriers, landing huge blows before ending with jolting energy. “Swallowed Whole By the Abyss” brings welling guitars that eventually burst into a gutting explosion, howls absolutely destroying whatever’s in front of it. The playing chugs massively and begins to feel more dangerous, the strange vocals melting your brain and letting it drip from your ears. “Dreams of Crows” is hazy and doomy when it dawns, the guitars eventually speeding up and trampling with precision. The pall of torment returns as the knives are driven hard, the mashing energy teaming with curdling wails to end everything in muck. The closing title track arrives with acidic vocals, and a catchy but heavy attack that gets blood flowing. The playing keeps gaining speed and wilting heat, blistering savagely, letting the blood boil in your veins. The noise picks up as the guitars melt, echoes hypnotizes, and the insanity drains into the dark.

“Blood Sabbath” is a record that you don’t have to think about too hard for it to hit you like a ton of bricks, and that’s not to suggest the album isn’t packed with smart content. It’s just that Serpent Corpse have a power and allure that pulls you in, no matter what section of the dark metallic arts you call your favorite. This is vicious, a blast of fun, and a record that’ll keep your adrenaline flowing with carnage.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://serpentcorpse.bandcamp.com/album/blood-sabbath

Or here: https://templeofmystery.ca/product-category/serpent-corpse/

For more on the label, go here: https://templeofmystery.ca/

If you even partially follow current events and things going on in society, it can be a lot to handle and definitely not something great for our mental health. Getting lost in that chaos is very easy to do, and I’m sure we’ve all fallen victim to it in some form, but that isn’t a portrait of reality. There remain good, bright things that exist in the mire, and finding those glimmers can be what pulls us through.

“Fires in the Fall” might sound like an album title that has destruction at its heart, and in some ways it does (it comes from a Robert Louis Stevenson poem). But Texan black metal/doom trio Krigsgrav weave in the reminder that even at the worst of times, we can find ways to discover hope. The fact that this band—vocalist/guitarist/synth player J. Coleman, guitarist/bassist C. Daniels, drummer/bassist/clean vocalist D. Sikora—enshrouds those ideas in music that sounds like a raging storm pouring ferocity onto the earth is what makes the record so profound. It’s an album that I have been playing on repeat lately (much like I did with 2021’s eye-opening “The Sundering”), and anyone with even a fleeting interest in atmospheric black metal and swarming doom will find so much to capture their imagination. This is a band that needs to be in more people’s awareness, and hopefully this album, their seventh, is what gets them there.  

“An Everflowing Vessel” opens the record with sweeping power, stomping and crushing, glorious black metal and doom melding and creating something mighty. The track is a total rush in the dark, bringing melodic fury as Coleman howls, “But this vessel is ever-flowing, the suffering is all but inevitable, ever-looming, ever-present in this place of impossible darkness,” before everything fades into acoustics. “The Black Oak” begins with tornadic force, a thunderous tear ripping into the place, growls wrenching as the energy spits out fire. Dark energy swirls and mars, guitars cut in and destroy hearts, and the blazing weight beneath this song is meaty and crushing. “The World We Leave Behind” heats up as the playing swells, the growls menace, and the coldness becomes a greater factor, chilling bones. “For I have lost the humanity I had, and now I shall be one with the earth,” Coleman howls, clobbering hell trudging and chewing, your senses flooded with chaotic blood. Everything then hovers as the band hits a slower pace, sorrow floods, and the final blasts bury you in unshakable darkness. “In Seas of Perdition” just crushes as the guitar playing leaves welts, absolutely decimating and playing tricks on your central nervous system. Destruction hammers away as the fires get hungrier and closer, lurching mashing destroying before disorienting playing slips out into fog.

“When I’m Gone, Let the Wolves Come” is an exclusive bonus track for the CD version, and it rampages before you know what hit you, bringing flooding melodies and scraping howls. Layered guitars lead into a massive engulfing of flames, the drama increases, and clobbering forces rush for the gates. “Shadowlands” begins ominously before the fuel spills and aggravates a blaze, down-tuned mashing making your bruising feel more pronounced. “Ravens circle above as rain begins, calling the words, speak the meaning, iron and absolute, howling beasts,” Coleman wails, feeling full of venom, increasing the ferocity that eventually slips into muddy terrain, retching until the agony finally fades. “Journeyman” blisters as the shrieks rush, and infectious playing gets your blood racing, the moodiness helping cut some of that adrenaline so your brain doesn’t freak out. Crushing force becomes an even greater factor, the fluid and punchy assault tearing through your ribcage, the monstrous push making itself an immovable object that only pulls back once it spirals away. Closer “Alone With the Setting Sun” dawns with acoustics, the solemnity increasing before the force chugs, and the band flexes. Everything continues to get more harrowing, the drums explode with delirium, and the wrenching growls pull your guts from your body. “Burning fire in my heart, burning fire in my eyes, the darkness I embrace, strength and fire my guide,” Coleman howls as the final build happens, the tension in your chest rises, and then acoustics release the pressure, leaving you in mist-drenched acoustics.

Krigsgrav star long has been rising, and it just burst into the sky on “Fires in the Fall,” their most explosive and complete record to date. This is an album that grows on you with each listen, its power unquestioned, the emotional journey you’re on turning into something you’ve never experienced before. This is a triumph of an album, music that illuminates the skies and fills your heart with an energy not encountered before that stays in every one of your cells.   

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://wisebloodrecords.8merch.us/

Or here (international): https://wisebloodrecords.8merch.com/

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

Heavy metal didn’t always sound the way it does now, and there used to be a time when the only people arguably growling their vocals were Lemmy and Brian Johnson. But things have progressed and times have changed (all for the better), and bands that were the difference makers years ago might not be deemed heavy enough today. I had someone tell me Iron Maiden sounded weak. He’s dead now.

I say that as I’m about to discuss doomy traditional metal force High Priest and their awesome debut record “Invocation.” These guys sound like they’ve mainlined the vein into metal’s past, darkened it a bit, and came up with a stunning result on this eight-track, 45-minute-long power. There’s glory, darkness, and infectious energy that this band—vocalist/bassist Justin Valentino, guitarists Pete Grossmann and John Regan, drummer Dan Polak—jams into this album. This is a promising debut from a band that already sounds pretty dialed into their thing, and they should only get more intense from here.

The title track opens with stinging guitars and excellent singing from Valentino, who is a force on this album. “Forgiveness, calling from the sacred, I am,” he calls as the track speeds up, dual guitars glimmer, and sounds are sucked into the cosmos. “Divinity” chugs in with great energy, pounding away and layering a doom glaze from one end to the next. The leads charge and swelter, things get faster and steamier, and Valentino calls, “Resonate, heart open, feel alive,” as the final moments burn away. “Ceremony” drips in darkness, the playing slowly unloading and boiling, wooshing past the stars and gradually gaining heat. The swagger kicks in as psychedelic colors flow, the playing begins to burn in calculated fashion, and the final blows melt into “Cosmic Key” that continues the mind-tingling push, layered singing leaving the hairs raised on your flesh. Heavy, bluesy guitar work trudges as the heat builds and blisters, strong soloing making sparks fly, everything resting on a torched earth.

“Down in the Dark” opens sludgy, feeling a little like Alice in Chains, breezy singing icing over your brain. Smoggy and melodic, the guitars buzz harder, great singing keeps pushing the heat, and the murk emerges, clouding your brain with a grungy edge. “Universe” opens with the bass pulling up, dual vocals entering the mix, and energy pulsating. “You remind me of the universe,” Valentino calls, “You’re designed to be the first,” as the track takes off, and things begin to charge up, blistering and leaving flesh absolutely scorched. “Conjure” feels Sabbathy as hell at the front, softer, but forceful singing pushing as Valentino urges, “Reveal yourself.” Guitars hit a boil as the pace jostles and then gallops, creating a smoking force that rips you apart and buries everything in rubble. Closer “Heaven” is fuzzy at first as the leads begin to liquify, the vocals floating and leading to a harmonized chorus. Things pick up and pump strength, and parts of this song would not sound out of place on rock radio a few decades ago. The mood darkens as Valentino calls, “I refuse to know heaven,” repeatedly as the bass drives harder, the guitars begin to blaze, and the energy cascades and soaks the ground with sweat.

High Priest harken back to an era when metal could be both doomy and rock radio friendly without sacrificing an inch of their power or integrity. “Invocation” is a sweeping, substantive document that arrives right at the height of summer, the period when this style of music always sounds the best. This brims with power and grit, hopefully making High Priest’s reach expand to greater heights.

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

‘To buy the album, go here: https://us.merhq.net/us/Artists/High-Priest/

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