I was fortunate enough to grow up at the tail end of metal’s formative years, so I remember when bands like Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, and Metallica were at their apex and some of the most powerful forces in music. Having taken that decades-long adventure also means I’ve heard sounds and styles come, change, and sometimes go, as well as the genre getting reborn when newer bands try their hands at things.

French force Meurtrieres sound like a band that easily could have been at home in the end of the 1970s and early 1980s and not seemed out of place at all. Their throwback style sounds inspired by the New Wave of British Heavy Metal and the followers of that movement, almost as if no time had passed since that era. Their killer first full-length record “Ronde De Nuit” (translates to “night watch”) is arriving, and it’s a blast for someone like me who has experienced so much metal history. The band—vocalist Fiona (she’s a newcomer and a fucking awesome force, replacing Fleur who sang on their self-titled debut EP), guitarists Flo Spector and Olivier, bassist Xavier, drummer Thomas—delves into medieval stories and inspiration taken from classical paintings, making those iconic scenes come to life. The lyrics are in French, so I can’t tell you much about the content, but that language barrier wasn’t a blocker from fully engaging and being ignited by this great piece of classic-style heavy metal.  

“Rubicon” surges open, feeling stylistically like pre-Bruce Maiden, galloping hard as Fiona’s singing takes hold. The playing is spirited and strong, and even when the pace slows, the water still sits at a low boil until the intensity climbs again, ending in a halo of fire. “Aucun Homme, Aucun Dogme, Aucune Croix” brings vintage-style riffs and the playing slinking, Fiona out front in total command. The whole thing is punchy and infectious, bringing power kicking hard, guitars heating up and rushing, and a spirit that feels as old as metal itself reborn in 2023. “Tempête & Naufrage” has bubbling leads as the signing crushes, zapping hard past you, robbing you of breath. Fiery melody grips like a stranglehold, the soloing then explodes and spills colors, blasting back with fervor, bringing everything to a massive end.

The title track keeps pouring the fuel on the fire, the verses surging with explosive energy, and then the playing hits a tornadic force. Fiona’s singing hits a higher register, and the playing backs her with more bravado, making your blood zip through your veins. “Alma Mater” takes off, the verses spiked with power, the drums pulsing, the chorus letting loose. Later, the playing chugs, and a fluid solo follows, enveloping everything in glory before the final jolts loosen teeth. “Chevaleresses Du Chaos” takes its time coming to life, but once it does, it swaggers with authority, bringing smoke and blanketing everything with its charring heat. Fiona’s singing goes a little raspier in spots, and then the dual leads flex and rip through a growing fog, steamrolling to a dominant finish. Closer “La Revenante” charges through the gates, boasting an animalistic fury, Fiona’s singing trudging over your heart. Again, the band channels early Maiden, only edgier, all of the elements belting out and nailing souls to the floor.

As a sucker for the NWOBHM sound and the forces that came after that, Meurtrieres easily nail that sweet spot in my brain for this type of sound. “Ronde De Nuit” is a total force, one that’s a step up from where the band operated previously, and having Fiona out front elevates everything to a really special place. This is a fun, rollicking record, one that’ll make you want a sword in hand, ready for battle.

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

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

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

Death cannot be avoided, which is an unfortunate fact of our existence. We ourselves only have a limited stay on this planet, and as our time goes on, we also watch loved ones pass, both human and animal, and it can have a profound impact that lingers forever. Yet, spirits can live on in our lives and hearts, and the emotions we feel can be interwoven into the beings we no longer can see and feel physically.

On “Ghost at the Gallows,” the tremendous fifth full-length effort from Spirit Adrift, death is around every corner. Having had it as a theme in longtime band leader Nate Garrett’s life, the eight songs that make up this latest creation do bask in the loss but also triumph. The vocalist/guitarist stitched together a world where we’re surrounded by ghosts that bring on trauma and loss, but there’s also strength and triumph to be experienced, and these songs can be downright uplifting. On this record, Garrett is joined by guitarist Tom Draper (also of Pounder), bassist Sonny DeCarlo (Goya), and drummer Mike Arellano (Disfigured, Indisgust) to help flesh out this dynamic journey. We’ve long been fans of the band at this site, but this might be their best work. Each visit, these tracks grow and consume your mind, the roots growing into your mind and heart as the music connects, and the themes solidify.  

“Give Her to the River” has a tempered open, setting the stage for what’s to come, and then the energy comes. “In the fire we transform,” Garrett howls, “in the water we’re reborn,” as the chorus gets lodged in your brain. Fires are set as the soloing takes over and lathers, a spirited corkscrew that energizes as the calm waters at the end soothe. “Barn Burner” lets the riffs ignite on a punchier track that also is the album’s first single. “Light your torches, just remember you’ll be the next to burn,” Garrett calls over the sticky chorus, and then the guitar work takes over and stretches its wings. The playing mashes hard as the chorus loops back again, leaving you with a stark reminder. “Hanged Man’s Revenge” jolts, the drums crushing, a fiery, heavy pace taking hold and pulling you with it. The soloing picks up and carries the fire, sizzling before doomy strains add thick coats of soot, everything fading into a sound warp. “These Two Hands” is softer to start, acoustic strains raining down, reflective tones pulling the shadows over your eyes. Guitars open up as a sunburnt effect warms the flesh, and the emotions rise, turning more hopeful and immersed in glory. “All that I am changed forever, I have to believe it gets better,” Garrett urges, the playing slowly fading into time.

“Death Won’t Stop Me” brings swelling guitars and a swampy vibe, mashing with defiance as the screws are turned. “There’s an anger that’ll never go away,” Garrett jolts, the playing both heated and catchy, blaring into your eardrums before silence consumes everything. “I Shall Return” is a gem in the back half of the record, sounding a bit like “Crazy Train” as it starts, treating tragedy with triumph. “If I leave I shall return,” Garrett calls, paying mind to presence of souls we have lost and their continual existence in our hearts and minds. The soloing lights up and scorches, bringing a snap of power, finally ending in a smashing blaze. “Siren of the South” is thrashy as hell when it starts, and then it goes more mystical, chugging and trucking as the pace delivers twisting changes. “She speaks through me trying to get to you,” Garrett wails as a medium, stop/start mangling adds to the heaviness, and the final moments laser across the night sky. The stunning title track ends the album by mashing right away, the verses melting and flowing like lava, ominous visions imparted as Garrett insists, “I’ll never break free.” The guitar work gets warmer, exhaling ashy, bluesy smoke, going cold for a stretch, and returning to haunt again. Things then turn properly psychedelic, Garrett making spiritual connections to those who have passed on, and the energy crescendos, fading into a cloud of mystery.

We’ve all been touched by loss and grief, and trying to build back from that and live meaningful lives can lead to guilt and the feeling that we’ve somehow let down those we love. “Ghost at the Gallows” addresses that anxiety, pain, fear, and sadness and, in turn, reminds us those relationships don’t have to end, and we can find solace in power in the times we have spent together. Spirit Adrift always deliver their style of fiery heavy metal with emotion, but this might be their most impactful record and statement yet, proving the lessons taught here were taken to heart and can make us feel alive again even in our darkest times.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://centurymedia.store/dept/spirit-adrift

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

Getting older is really strange, and as a person who has definitely passed some time, I can attest that it’s a regular occurrence when you look back and wonder how it’s been like 30 years since you graduated high school. For example, obviously. But for me, there are times in my life where I wish I could lock myself, and funny enough, it’s not when I was appreciably younger. But that’s not possible.

Metallic destroyers Nott consists of just two members—vocalist/guitarist/bassist Tyler Campbell and drummer Julia Geaman—and both have had uprooting sojourns to where they are now. Their incredible new record is called “Hiraeth,” a Welsh word with no direct meaning but that the band posits as standing for the longing for what once was and to which one cannot go back. That’s a devastating idea, but it’s not foreign to most people. We all long for a time when meanings for certain things were imprinted in our brains and that probably seems like the best times we ever had. Accompanying that thinking is a record that is impossibly heavy, sometimes in ways that you’d think humans couldn’t realize, but here we are. It’s a monster of a record, and it both kills with force and draws you into the theme.

“Torn” starts atmospherically, but it doesn’t take long to turn ugly as beastly playing and deep, engorging growls begin to do ample damage. The playing gets fiery and savage, pulling you under without mercy, the growls corroding flesh, growing staggeringly heavy as the slow torture finally releases its grip.  “Stasis” is gargantuan, a total monster scraping across the earth, Campbell somehow sounding even more inhuman. The aura is muddy and gashing, the drums let loose and completely destroy, and the growls sicken, making the contents of your stomach thrash wildly, the final blasts pushing the bile and acid to burst onto the pavement. “Null” is a brief breather, but it also lends no rest as the weird transmission makes everything feel unsettling, the eerie guitars summoning a fog that blasts into “Rend” that completely envelopes. Wild howls slash as the bass flexes its muscles, massive jarring heavily taxing your nervous system. Snarling energy splashes with muddy waves, and the guitars truck hard, sludging and marring, decimating until the playing finally drops its last.

“Stare” is fiery and deadly, a pulverizing experience that leans heavily into your psyche and refuses to pull back. Mechanical terror opens its steely jaws, and an infernal implosion rampages, spilling outright ferocity and brutality and amplifying them to a ridiculous degree. “Writhe” lets sounds swirl and your imagination travel, and then the track fully tears open, the shrieks raining down poison and chaos. The clobbering madness is suffocating, and then the sounds ease, unleashing steam that wilts flesh. The power corrupts all over with a barreling assault, the growls hammer, and everything feels like it’s boiling in acid, flesh falling from bone. The title track ends the proceedings, and it’s an instant assault, a blinding serving of hell that slaughters souls. Slashing and urgent, the stomping almost feels personal as the power runs amok, and even a brief respite is enough to promote healing as the senses are smashed, and aggressive fury buries faces in the dirt.

Nott is impossibly heavy, which always sound ridiculous to say on a metal site, but this band knows another level many other bands do not. “Hiraeth” has emotional undertones from its title and the intent the band puts behind it, but taking on the music feels like mental and physical tumult, a struggle to survive where the surroundings feel uninhabitable. This is a weighty experience, a record that takes its toll on you and leaves a battered, stretched human behind.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://silentpendulumrecords.com/products/nott-hiraeth

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

To struggle is human, though everyone who does have a battle to wage has different levels of adversity staring them back. It’s easy to go down a destructive path, wounding and punishing ourselves, wallowing in seas of negativity that make self-healing a tougher thing to accomplish. Hope isn’t lost, but it’s often very difficult to find, and that alone can be a mighty mountain to conquer.

German trio The Circle makes that the focus of their stunning second record “Of Awakening,” an incredible mix of heavy emotion and doom metal awash in blackness. Treading amid these five powerful songs means facing your own shadows, the ones it sometimes seem like you wear like a cape, or perhaps more fittingly, a butcher’s apron. The band—vocalist Asim Searah, guitarist Stanley Robertson, drummer Philipp Wende—are joined by guests Jaakko Nikko (of Damnation Plan, Essence of Sorrow and many others, who provides bass) and Lisa Wende (viola and violin) to flesh out this heavily emotional creation, one that bends but never breaks under the weight of psychological torment and tries in earnest to find beams of catharsis underneath a mountain of pain.

“Ruins, My Dying World” dawns as a severe rupture of the heart, gruff singing and nasty growls retching and wailing. The murk continually gets thicker and more impossible to tread, and after a full sonic immersion, the strings ache, and creaky speaking chills your bones. Suddenly, you’re chest deep in a deluge, the shrieks spatter blood, and the gloom pushes even harder, sending prog-fed guitars into the atmosphere and finally going permanently cold. “Of Awakening” features Tim Charles of Ne Obliviscaris on violin, and the track itself jolts open, quickly getting blood racing through veins. Growls lurch as the pace quickens and toughens, powerful singing also playing a major role, the harshness picking up and becoming more oppressive. The bass plods as Charles’ playing sends chills, turning cinematic and leaving a semisweet glaze behind.

“Afflux” is reflective, solemn singing helping lead the way, the emotional power becoming richer as it grows. Growls erupt as the harsher elements dig deeper, morose melodies linger, and the slow-driving misery ensures you soak in the dark waters until you’re pickled. “Reign of the Black Sun” begins with drums crushing, guitars digging into the molten rock, and a burly push sinking in alongside the hearty singing that reaches the stratosphere. Gloomy strings smear as the dreariness increases, the singing sweeps, and the drums rumble with fervor. The emotional swell builds as blasts destroy steel, growls mash psyches, and the strings increase their hold, ending things hypnotically. Closer “Ashes and Fading Tides” has a hazy opening, clean calls swimming in the air, sweeping open before melodies tidal wave, and growls begin to kill. Great clean singing surges as the doom swells, and a massive rush of power draws near. Strong leads emerge and scorch, and a glorious surge pushes everything into the heavens.

The darkness and woe on “Of Awakening” is thick and apparent, and the anguish and sadness packed into this record by the Circle takes some time to digest before its message becomes fully apparent. This is a stunning, heavy record, one that leaves a massive toll on you mentally and physically when this record comes to an end. Yes, there is beauty and delicacy woven in as well, but that’s almost as a salve to help dress wounds this record leaves that are a challenge from which to fully heal.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.aoprecords.de/gb/

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

We’re thrashing a dead horse here, but the world surrounding us is not a welcoming and healthy place, and there’s no trajectory in a few years that makes this look any better. Lies, deceit, mismanaged power, corruption, racism, sexism, hatred, xenophobia, you name it make up social conversations and public policy, and it gets more difficult to live through this every second of the day.

“From the Wound Spilled Forth Fire” is a noble effort to try to break free from this hell and find a semblance of peace and catharsis within oneself. Nixil do that with furnace-furious black metal that, unlike a large swath of artists in the subgenre, stands in defiance of fascism and isn’t afraid to attack it with poison. The band—vocalist CC, guitarist/backing vocalist Alden, guitarist Shane, bassist/backing vocalist Aurora, drummer Key—spreads the vitriol over six harrowing, corrosive tracks that aim to engulf the power structure in unforgiving, certain flames. This is a record full of rebellion anthems, and anyone who finds themselves in Nixil’s path would do well to stay away from this cauldron of chaos.

“Collapsing the Poles” opens ominously, with darkness spreading and shrieks gnawing into flesh, your ears ringing and making your balance a challenge. “The flame is within us,” CC howls with scathing intent, the guitars snarling and smoking, utter destruction spreading generously over the land. “In Thrall” crumbles sonically, and then the knives come out, punishing with utter blackness, twisting nerve endings as the growls lay waste. Searching leads add a more introspective element, but moments later they’re splattering you all over again, spinning tires over your neck as the destruction hits its highest point. Total devastation follows as a black metal assault is mounted, finally angling out into noise. “A Door Never Closed” liquifies and lets in dark secrets, the guitars slice, and the walls begin to melt, causing blood to trickle and pool. Howls echo as the feeling turns more portentous, hypnotizing melodies backing the ferocious pace, unsettling calls burning into your flesh as the final scalding moments torch wills.

The title track opens with grimacing guitars, dark rumbling, and a tempo that continually gets more dangerous. There are tempered moments, but that doesn’t last long as ugly howls slather, and spindly guitars make things feel mystical. The heat increases out of that, and then sounds warp and disappear into a fog. “Abyss Unto Abyss” erupts, taking its pound of flesh early, racing and mashing as the temperatures increase. Melodic guitars work laces with growls and strange speaking, the twisted path getting more intense as the track goes on, every element zipping and thrashing over the final minute. Closer “The Way Is the Grave” starts with a tribal-style spirit, weird vocals warbling, and then growls crushing as the humidity climbs. Shadowy and spellbinding, the growls slither through filth, psyche-heavy guitars glaze like a mind-altering syrup, and your cells are left tingling as the final shrieks crush and help usher in a retching ending.

Surviving the cesspool of a world in which we all tread takes determination, guts, and the refusal to accept that this is a normal way to live. Nixil torch any idea of existing with this system on “From the Wound Spilled Forth Fire,” and the takeaway is the will to treat the source of oppression with flames and no servings of mercy. This record stands as a defiant battle effort to prevent those who wish to exercise their harmful will on others from enjoying any power and ever living peacefully.  

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

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

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

Metal lore is rich with mythology and history, stories that have become a part of humanity, no matter where you hail, and it’ll always be there to act as fodder for musicians looking to come up with the heaviest possible concepts and sounds. It also provides listeners with a chance to dig into some of this material that previously might have been unfamiliar, helping swell one’s brain with new knowledge.

Digging into “Beyond Acheron,” the fourth record from German death metal crushers Temple of Dread, it’s clear we’re in for another album full of ideas and stories that make metallic roots that much more nutritious. Just look at the cover art by Italian artist Paolo Girardi of Charon, the ferryman who leads the dead across the River Styx to Hades, and you see a story that’s long dotted metal, but maybe you never saw it depicted it quite that way before. The band—vocalist Jens Finger, guitarist/bassist Markus Bünnemeyer, drummer/keyboard player Jörg Uken—is assisted by friend and psychologist Frank Albers who provides the gore-splashed and cinematic lyrics that make this record that much more engaging and full of folklore that will keep you engaged in the brutality from front to back.

“Charon’s Call (Intro)” has water rushing, the drums awakening, and guitars swimming, heading downstream into the title track that explodes with strong riffs and raspy howls. The melodies jolt as soloing rips in and glows, giving a mystical feel to the carnage. The growls gut as the playing gets more ferocious, landing heavy blows and pouring salt into wounds, paving the way for “World Below” that drubs from the word go. Menace is heavy as the riffs drill into bones, the playing encircles dangerously, and the synth playing thickens the ominous cloud cover. A fantastical bend takes over, making your mind tingle, and then the pace fires up again, Finger howling, “I am free, I rule the world below!” “Damnation” mixes sick drumming and wafting synth, the tempo burning slowly and dangerously, the humidity mixing with fire. The leads swarm as the playing gets more intense, melodies simmering, the keys and carnage mixing in the sky. The heaviness gets more oppressive as the growls eat away like acid, increasing the misery crashing down like nails as the track comes to a regal end. “Dance of Decay” is sinister as the growls go for your throat, the death assault becoming an earth-crushing force. The guitars unload, sweeping over rock and lava, the growls get burlier, and viciousness drags this into the earth’s core.

“All-Consuming Fire” drives and drubs, turning into a speedy and mean assault, delivering a flurry of crushing blows. Hazy leads make the atmosphere thicker and hotter, and then the tempo explodes, thrashing with ugly defiance, stomping joints, and stretching you mentally and physically. “The Plague” is chunky as hell with the guitars encircling its prey, a mucky and mangling force with which to be reckoned. “The plague will hit us all,” Finger wails as the heat makes breathing difficult, shrieks pack sinister deadliness, and the final moments powder bones and teeth. “Carnality Device” unfurls with manic terror, twisting with metallic precision and even making minds warp with alien effects. Steamy melodies wilt flesh as hypnotic surges ice your brain impulses before the guitars catch new fire, and the drumming even ups the ante further, coating lungs with soot. “Asebeia” is a blink-and-miss-it blaster, bringing corrosive growls, premium levels of speed, and a thunderous push that makes it feel like a storm you didn’t know was coming to level your town. Closer “Hades” dawns with a slow burn, the guitars channeling blood, morbid tidings making everything feel even more severe. The playing keeps building momentum, glorious guitar work feels like thick light beams pounding your eyelids, and everything crescendos, the final waves crashing monstrously to earth.

Strangeness, unspeakable horror, and death metal brutality run amok on “Beyond Acheron,” a record that is both enthralling and unforgivingly destructive. Temple of Dread continue to build their massive canon with this impressive album, one that should open any ears just coming into contact with this splattering force. This is death metal full of all the good stuff longtime fans want from the subgenre, and every visit with this thing will wreck you and demand your fealty all over again.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://testimonyrecords.de/artists/temple-of-dread/

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

Death metal has become a much smarter subgenre, not necessarily having to give way to knuckle-dragging antics or approaches that make you feel like you didn’t really need your brain while listening. Honestly, even the most ham-fisted of death metal still takes at least a modicum of talent and ability, so let’s not totally count it out. But sometimes the most ridiculous approaches are the most satisfying.

That leads us into Aussie death metal stranglers Werewolves, a band that never really spent a lot of time trying to get high marks from tastemakers and instead have gone full-bore into chaos and insanity. Their new record “My Enemies Look and Sound Like Me” continues to avoid being scholarly and instead goes sharpened-teeth-first for your throat, unleashing complete insanity and a level of terroristic fun that completely takes over your brain. The band—vocalist/bassist Sam Bean, guitarist Matt Wilcock, drummer David Haley—pours all their adrenaline, emotions, fire, and slathering venom into this fourth record in four years, and it’s not here to make you smarter. It’s here to make sure you have a good time, as it sounds like they did making it, and never fails on that end. It’s a fucking animal.

“Under The Ground” explodes with black metal fury, a snarling animal out of the gate, warping and sending fire screaming. Molten hell is launched as the attack gets more and more insane, leaving blood and bone behind. The title track is a berserker, bringing swampy guitars, contorting terror, and absolute ferocity that’s impossible to shake. Massive thrashing mounts a huge comeback, splattering as echoed howls singe nerve endings. “Bring to Me the Kill” stomps and encircles like a beast cornering its victim, savage and animalistic shouts increasing the anxiety even further. Black metal-style melodies fire as a break-neck pace is achieved, gurgly growls sounding like Beam is foaming at the mouth. “Brace for Impact” goes for the jugular, the guitars hitting the gas pedal and leaving it locked into place. Fast and violent, there are some mucky bodies of water encountered, and the guitars manage to hit a strange and complicated angle that fries your brain in your skull.

“Destroyer of Worlds” is steamy at first, and then the guitars add some chill, but not enough to avoid burning. The playing is mean and monstrous, the power fully hitting an apex as Bean wails, “I cannot make it clearer, I am not a hero,” as the track slams shut. “Neanderhell” slaughters as the growls are spat like poison, the savagery almost becoming too much to take. Deep growls curdle in your belly, and blind mangling increases your blood pressure before everything ends abruptly. “I Hate Therefore I Am” clobbers, stomps, grounds, and pounds, tricking you with violent thrashing that shakes your insides. Things gets uglier as the track goes on, the band seeking nothing but torment and pain to bring unconsciousness. “I Knew Nothing Then and I Know Less Now” erupts with growls strangling and an unforgiving pace that forces air from your lungs. Things turn uncharacteristically moody for a turn, disorienting and numbing before the punishment valve turns back on, knifing to a psychologically bloody end. “Do Not Hold Me Back” mercilessly ends things but not before the violence escalates yet again, scathing growls and electric horrors flowing freely. Racing and rampaging, the playing chugs with sinister fury, mashing bone and leaving only bile and piss behind.

“My Enemies Look and Sound Like Me” is a runaway car crash into a nuclear reactor into a shark into a volcano, and that’s probably putting it lightly. Werewolves say themselves they’re not here to deliver some cerebral vision and instead just want to piledrive you face-first into glass. This is a record that delivers just that, and when it’s over, you’ll need an extended mental break before taking another trip.

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

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

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

Have you ever sat back and actively thought about the most horrific and perverse things that could cross your mind and reflect in satisfaction over what you imagined? Me, neither. I have enough manic bullshit from everyday life and current events to keep me occupied with terrible visions that I don’t need an extra exercise in that type of thing. Also, I don’t have a productive outlet to release the trauma.

It’s safe to say the two blokes who inhabit Blight House—vocalist Frank Lloyd Blight and multi-instrumentalist Frank Owen Gorey, most likely not their birth names, but who knows?—have participated in that very thing, and from the sounds of their new record “Blight the Way,” they’re more likely to handle such insanity than someone like me. The band’s second record and follow-up to 2018’s maniacally titled “Summer Camp Sex Party Massacre,” the duo uses 10 insane tracks to plaster you with their brand of death metal and grind that’s gruesome, utterly ridiculous, sometimes hilarious, and always devastating. They aligned with Syrup Moose Records, a relatively new label that is steadfastly anti-fascist and is putting out a lot of tremendous records and bands we hope to feature here regularly from this point forward. But let’s start here.

“Dismembers Only” rips open with gruesome growls, the playing slithering and waylaying, sooty and doomy visions clouding your mind. Ugly and beastly power erupts, the muck collects, and everything comes to a fittingly ugly end. “Cryptid Cutie” mauls as the growls sicken, the playing trudging and making your footing impossible. The splattering continues as a manic pace cuts through as whispery growls send chills. “Florida Man Hails Satan” lands with retching growls and swampy, steamy guitars that make you feel gross inside. “The devil went down to Florida looking for a soul to steal,” Blight howls, slightly changing the lyrics to a relatively well-known country song, guitars go off, and guts are strewn about the place. “Too Ugly to Live, Too Dumb to Die” just trucks, howls punishing, the snarling playing twisting your brain. Glumi UwUhammer’s dream-state calls elevates strangeness, then the pace slows, but the heaviness doesn’t calm, growls crackle in mud, and everything sifts off into the clouds. “Moms Away II – Dad’s Bod” opens with a goddamn Family Feud clip, and from there everything smashes and spatters, growls curdle, and the blood flows freely.

“Bible-Belt Baby Buffet” unloads with buzzing guitars and growls slathering, the repeated cries of, “Baby buffet!” chewing into your psyche. Religious ranting samples slide behind the coiling bass and the muscular mashing, ending in complete psychosis. “Death Will Not Be Enough” mangles with deathly strikes, slowly scarring, then igniting and destroying. Growls gurgle as the guitars smear, exploding and fading into a total hellscape. “Grassquatch” is fucking ridiculous in the best way. Bugs chirp as we head into crushing force, thick bass lines, and repeated cries of, “Grassquatch!” Guitars heat up and the force bludgeons, the sooty assault making things feel grimy and creepy. “Walpurgis Date-Night” twists spinal cords, delivering humid violence and disorientation. Guitars smoke as the pace trudges, slowly fading into madness. “Acephalophilia III – Hopelessly Headless for You” closes the record by crushing with merciless devastation, the drums turning rock into dust. UwUhammer’s wail returns and sends chills down your spine, hypnotic jolts loosen screws, and everything is swallowed into a strange echo.

Blight House embody the idea that there are some things you have to hear to believe, and “Blight the Way” is a record that’s plenty brutal but also delightfully bizarre. The music on its own would be enough to merit recommendation, but the batshit insane horror elements and spastic psychosis takes it to a completely different level. This is a great time, a brutal band and album that can turn your stomach and punish you mentally and physically at the same time.

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

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

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

I am not able to ingest caffeinated coffee, which hasn’t been the best development in my life. I mean, physically, yes, I can drink it, but the mental result won’t be fun, and there’s a good chance I’d need to immediately enjoy a Xanax in order to avoid a trip to the ER. Brains. Why do we have them? So, it takes other means to get the blood flowing, and luckily there are plenty of things that work the same way.

Take, for instance, Mutoid Man, the frenetic metallic trio that’s spent the last decade indulging in sugary and bombastic riffs and pure firepower that might not work as well as a coffee for some people but sure gives me the same boost. Just without the anxiety attack! The band is back with another powder keg of insanity with “Mutants,” their third LP overall and another that will rewire your brain with total insanity. Mutoid Man is a supergroup of sorts—vocalist/guitarist Stephen Brodsky is well known for his work with Cave In and multiple other projects; longtime drummer Ben Koller bashes away for Converge; and new bassist Jeff Matz makes up half of the rhythm section for High on Fire. Here, the band launches 10 new tracks that blaze, defy gravity, and make your muscles shake, but in a way that’ll make you feel alive.

“Call of the Void” opens with the guitars just smoking, which is hardly a surprise with Mutoid Man or anything involving Brodsky. The pace is frantic and gutting, the bass thickens and create a steel beam of a spinal cord, and the underneath gets nasty, blasting through and coming to a zany end. “Frozen Hearts” pulls back just a bit, but there’s still massive amounts of intensity. The playing turns sludgy, and then the pace gallops, driving up dust and choking you senseless. “Broken Glass Ceiling” is properly defiant, bringing filthy riffs, Brodsky toggling between his trademark clean calls and blunt barks. “I’ve got to beat this thing to be free at last,” Brodsky howls as the mashing gets more aggressive, leading everything into hell. “Siren Song” fully swaggers, feeling dirty and menacing, pumping blood through tar-caked veins. Brodsky’s yelp of, “Go!” signals the attack going even faster, the playing getting more slashing and fluid, the strength building and flexing its brawn. “Graveyard Love” is pleasingly creepy, longing for the one who puts you in the ground. The bass is sinewy, there is a mystical edge to the guitars, and Brodsky pokes, “Everyone can see she fucking buried me.” The soloing is spacey and fun, exploding as the shrieks are buried with dirt and soot.

“Unborn” explodes with molten guitars, a drilling, intense pace, and Brodsky again mixing singing and growling, giving you smooth edges with blood inside. The playing is catchy and brutal, the heat blasts through the mud, and the final surges melt the doors shut. “Siphon” begins with an insane Tom and Jerry chase-style riff, making the room spin with ludicrous energy. Shrieks menace as the leads zap, grim turns are carried on the shoulders of great melodies, and the final moments come off like a really wild car crash. “Demons” opens with the drubbing tearing open ribcages, blazing through colorful guitar work, and then the momentum zaps into a deep cavern of mud. The playing is fast and catchy, while the bass takes a grungy edge, the playing combusting as Brodsky jolts, “I’ve got my demons under control!” “Memory Hole” mauls immediately as the strong singing makes the push more palpable, the carnage pulled back a bit but not entirely. Shrieks pummel, the leads snake through blood, and the energy fully ignites, the vocals and rising smoke pushing your face in the ground. “Setting Son” ends the album with a cooling agent before the guitars scorch your full face. There’s also a bluesy edge to this thing, the smog allowed to rise, the seriousness taking over from a record that spits at monsters. “Baby we don’t have much time ‘cause I’m like a setting sun,” Brodsky repeats as the song closes, his voices going higher, the playing around him letting the storm clouds darken before slipping behind the curtain.

It’s impossible to hear a Mutoid Man record and not be overcome by total mania and energy, and “Mutants” is no exception to that thinking. This album is a total blast, an incredibly fun explosion of neon riffs, staggering power, and metallic adrenaline, something you can put on your turntable and let destroy you. This album is perfect for jarring you awake by force and filling your body and blood with maniacal spirit no human can possibly overcome.

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

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