I appreciate being surprised by bands that I have followed for a long period of time. Sure, it’s always haywire when a band changes too much or throws curveballs that don’t work (Sleater Kinney still haven’t recovered from that St Vincent record), but you still can admire the refusal to stand pat to see where their talents take them. Some people are better at this than others.

There are no Baroness records that sound the same or even close. The long-running band started at the throne of sludge and doom and slowly morphed into something different each album, yet always maintaining a very recognizable DNA. That’s never been more apparent than on their sixth record “Stone,” the second with their currently and arguably best lineup—vocalist/guitarist John Baizley, guitarist/vocalist Gina Gleason, bassist Nick Jost, and drummer Sebastian Thomson. It also features some of their grittier, heavier material since 2007’s “Red Album,” and there’s an anger and anxiety that rips through the center of a lot of these songs. But there’s also beauty, triumph, and a creative and spiritual rebirth you can hear in these triumphant songs. It’s also notable Gleason takes a much bigger role here both with her guitar work and singing, and it helps this version of the band truly develop into what it is now, which is Baroness’ finest form.

“Embers” is a rustic and colorful intro track where nature meets psychedelic wonders, acoustics and soft singing bridging the gap, moving onto “Last Word” that chugs with power. The playing is burly and electric, the chorus simple but incredibly impactful, the magic amplifying and powering your blood. “When I am wired to oblivion, I’m closer to the end, we all become the setting sun, we have nowhere left to run,” Baizley calls as the soloing launches and burns, he and Gleason’s voices uniting, the first of many times this happens on the record. The pace gets more propulsive, guitars build, and the end chars.  “Beneath the Rose” delivers jolts and iron-sharp riffs, punchy talk singing, and a mood that’s decidedly more sinister and bloody than we expect from Baroness. “When you’re hanging from the rafters in my attic, you know I’ll never let you down,” Baizley seethes, a burly push making the pressure mount, a fucking fantastic chorus kicking your ass as everything ends in sludgy hammering. “Choir” trudges as the vocals burn like a tattoo gun, howls scathing as the guitars drip mind-altering syrups. “I know they’re out to get me, but they haven’t gotten me yet,” Baizley jabs, the darkness increasing and feeling like meaty midsection of a horror film. “The Dirge” is a short, folkish piece where Baizley and Gleason blend their voices, bringing down your blood pressure from what preceded it, as they unite to call out, “I know my breath is failing, now my time is up.”

“Anodyne” slides in with a filthy riff, your mind boiling as Baizley howls, “Take me to the ocean, lead me through the waves, hold me underwater,” as the psyche heaviness becomes a factor. The riffs mangle as the power consolidates, group “ah-ah” calls making the torment seem breezier, the playing ending abruptly with electric surges. “Shine” is moody and simmering, a more introspective track that bleeds vulnerability. “Did I go too far soaring higher and higher? If I touch the sun, will I shine forever?” Baizley posits as the guitars spread their wings, and the playing begins to thrash with energy. Dual vocals make the surge even more impressive, the playing continues to sink in its teeth, the steely bassline acting as a paved highway into oblivion. “Magnolia” drips in, Gleason singing lead and bringing a totally different vibe to the record. The playing moves softly, but you know the jabs are coming, and when they do, things get properly heated. “Now that you’re falling, I know I was wrong to let you go,” Baizley calls, the guitars beginning to lather as the blade penetrates flesh and muscle under your ribcage, the messages bleeding into the sea. “Under the Wheel” starts with strings and then a solid post-punk vibe, the vocals pulled back as the darkness is allowed to flourish. “Burning, I’m on fire, when we’re gone, what will remain?” Baizley wails, the playing trudging, the expression feeling raw and bruised. The guitar work turns more somber, feeling like a dirge to the late evening as oranges and purples wash the sky. “Bloom” closes the album and enters amid acoustics, slurry melodies, Baizley and Gleason singing as if on a back porch as the world burns around us all. “I wouldn’t stay here if I could leave,” they call, feeling like a noiry fever dream. “Home, where we go, will you bury me back home?” is a sentiment that stabs the heart, bleeding down exposed flesh and dripping onto the floor.

Baroness have a rich, varied catalog leading up to “Stone,” yet this might be their most surprising and rewarding record among them. This current lineup seems to have jelled, as they show their power and dexterity throughout this record, proving what time, pain, patience, and the bravery of creativity with no fear can bring to a band. I liked this record from listen one, but every time I go back, I sink deeper into its clutches, each song taking a piece of my heart and mind, making me thankful yet again that I was lucky enough to exist at the same time as Baroness.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://baroness.lnk.to/STONE

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

One does not just shake the tension, pain, and total upheaval that the global pandemic forced us all to experience. Lives changed, some ended, the world was torn apart even further, and people’s purposeful stupidity made matters even worse and put others in jeopardy. We can’t just shake those times. They’re a part of us, and our recovery will last far into the future.

Canadian metallic noise veterans KEN mode have been dealing with that time period over the course of their art, and we get a second serving of that with “Void.” A companion piece to last year’s stunning “Null,” this eight-track bruiser isn’t a retread of that album at all. It’s very different sonically and personality wise, and its songs are the result of the sadness and disappointment that resulted from dealing with the height of the pandemic. The band—vocalist/guitarist/synth player Jesse Matthewson, bassist/backing vocalist Skot Hamilton, saxophone/synth and piano player, backing vocalist Kathryn Kerr, drummer Shane Matthewson—created this album at the same time as “Null,” and they make for an excellent one-two punch that features some of the band’s most inspired work to date.

“The Shrike” opens and slowly builds, but before you know it, the intensity has spiked. “There’s no escape from our mistakes,” Jesse seethes, the steam rising and aggravating wounds, a muddy haze suddenly developing hanging over as the drumming mashes its body into the dirt. “Painless” prowls with a thick bassline, flexing muscle as the drums drive the verses, the sax playing bringing equal measures of calm and panic. “You are all alone,” Jesse pokes, “Most wish you were never here,” as the heat wilts, blurring your vision. “These Wires” is an incredible piece, a 7:54 slow burner that’s the most different thing on either of their most recent two records. The guitars are moody, keys dripping, and Jesse speak singing, unloading the burden with, “I do not feel like this will ever end.” Things ignite as Jesse howls, “Why would anything feel right again?” a sentiment that weighs down hard, the ominous tones making it clear that things are not comfortable. “I can’t feel like this much longer,” Jesse admits, seeming on the verge of defeat, slowly draining into the ground. “We’re Small Enough” is a strange one, a track that slips into sci-fi synth fog, the band feeling as proggy as they ever have. The alien terrain sucks blood from your veins, sweltering in the thick air, slipping out into darkness.

“I Cannot” is sinewy and wastes no time doling out punishment, the shrieks blasting away, guitars catching fire and amplifying the heaviness. Scathing pressure adds to the torment, Kerr’s sax crawls in and adds noise squalls, chewing at your nerve endings as it makes your brain sizzle. “A Reluctance of Being” is impossibly dark, Jesse dourly admitting, “I’m never going to be OK,” a sentiment he repeats as the playing sinks deeper into the soot. Noise kicks up as the sludge factor becomes more pronounced, the howls carving away at you. The pace picks up as the bass thickens, Jesse changing the thought to, “I’ll never let you be OK,” as sounds sizzle, sax swings hard toward the unsteady, and the final stab of, “We’re never going to be OK,” uniting us in misery. “He Was A Good Man, He Was A Taxpayer” brings stinging guitars and an overcast pall, the track slowly battering as you fall apart. “We will never learn,” Jesse levels, synth wafting into a ’70s style vibe, fire finally raining down as everything ends with the pronouncement, “Now that I’m gone, you’re free.” “Not Today, Old Friend” brings the record to an end by toying with your emotions, speak singing jabbing, the darkness thickening as the sax wafts like a ghoul. Isolation builds as the walls close in, Jesse biting back with, “And isn’t that what matters? That you’ve been thanked? Whether or not I even remember your name?” as sadness pulls us under forever.

“Void” finishes off an incredible two-album trip that has given us some of the most combustible, memorable songs on their entire run, which is saying something considering the weight of their catalog. This record is even more indicative of what they can accomplish in this form, Kerr really leaning into the record and dashing it with some of her own colors. Every moment of KEN mode’s music is deep and personal, and records like these linger, sticking in your mind for days on end.

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

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

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

Christianity is a weird thing. It has a much darker side than its followers are willing or maybe even are able to admit, and its claws are in everything. For example, in this country, more and more public policy is using the Bible as a guiding force, despite its tenets not applying to all of the people it would govern. This is hardly a new phenomenon, as we’ve seen this same thing repeatedly for centuries.

Roots of the Old Oak aren’t explicitly pasting that message all over their thunderous debut full-length “The Devil and His Wicked Ways,” but those lessons sure are baked into the DNA. Over eight doom-drenched, death-driven pounders-, the band—vocalist/guitarist Pete Rowland, bassist Mike Rowland,
drummer/vocalist Stuart R. Brogan—pay homage to the old gods, to whom their reverence remains, and stand in defiance with those who fought the arrival of Christianity so many years ago and had it rammed down their throats. The music here is powered by the refusal to give in and is painted generously by metal’s great history and the sounds that made it a force with which to fight back.

“I Defy Thee” opens with wind whipping, whispers riding the waves, and the power crashing down, a doomy and dark storm making the beginning foreboding. The playing feels ceremonial at times, regal at others, always devastating as the funereal pace storms and dissolves into the earth. “Cheating the Hangman” brings buzzing riffs and muscular growls, the playing even leaning toward gothy at times. “I will not beg, I will not scream,” Rowland howls rebelliously, the drubbing and lurching fire eating away at your physical well-being. “Forest Dweller” has the bass crawling through fire, the growls churning, and the melodies brawling with precision. The pressure builds as the playing hisses, snarling over churning guitars and a battering ram force that can knock down walls. “A Ballad of Two Ravens” is a quick instrumental piece with birds cawing, clean guitars feeling like ice melting in early spring, spilling back in time to a place you feel like you’ve visited before.

The title track has keys draining, doomy death growls crawling through the puddles that are increasingly growing larger. The guitars slur as organs disorient, the mucky pace bleeding from wounds that won’t congeal. The growls add menace, the title is howled and chews on bone, and everything drains into “Cosmic Dark Age” that mangles and crushes from the start. Muscular and steely, the playing adds to the ferocity, a wicked dialog gives a nightmare vibe, and the wail of, “No light, a starless void,” pays even more respect to the horrors over the horizon. “Allfather (A Wanderers Tale)” just smokes, the guitars adding to the heat, a swampy vibe making your body quickly lose all strength from your muscles. The misery always seems to be over your shoulder, spreading as the cloud cover increases, keys glaze, and thunder pummels as this instrumental piece boils under the emerging sun. Closer “Take the Throne” is trudging and hot, retching growls spilling stomach acid on the ground. Persistent blasts make for a muscular display as ominous winds begin to blow, the guitar work turns warmer, and the final embers glimmer and succumb to the storm.

“The Devil and His Wicked Ways” is a record that might delve into history but feels awfully relevant today as the intrusion of religion never seems to lose its fire. Roots of the Old Oak spend their meaty, driving debut record reliving the scourge and treating it with doomy, drubbing power that refuses to give an inch and is hungry for the battle that’s to come. This is a punishing record with a warning about events that took place in the past that can rebound and attack us any time, any place if we’re not ready and willing to confront that oppression.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://napalmrecords.com/hammerheart

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

Holding anger inside for a long time is a bad way to go through life. It’s awful for your mental health, and it’s likely to push some people to unthinkable acts because they have no way to release such energy. You need an outlet for something like that, and if it’s productive, it could actually have net positive results when all is said and done.

It’s been nine long years since we heard from Gridlink, and it sounds like in that time they’ve built up enough aggression and negativity that it had to come out again. On “Coronet Juniper,” their first record since 2014’s “Longhena,” we’re waylayed by 11 tracks spread over a bit more than 19 minutes, and everything here is molten and pissed. The band—vocalist Jon Chang, guitarist Takafumi Matsubara, bassist Mauro Cordoba, drummer Bryan Fajardo—is as vicious and frightening as they’ve ever been, blending your brain and guts in such a manner that you’re feeling like the contents of your body are dripping through your cells. And if you can connect your own venom with the band’s, this record also can be a productive outlet to exorcise what haunts you.

“Silk Ash Cascade” begins manically, instantly grabbing you by the throat and mercilessly squeezing. The vocals choke and shriek while the playing maims, spattering blood and heading into “Anhalter Bahnhof” that thrashes right off the bat. It’s a blast that doesn’t stay long but makes its impact felt, shrieks dusting, the playing rattling, the force coming at you and twisting you into something unidentifiable. “Pitch Black Resolve” opens in a melodic haze before forcefully unloading, the screams working their way down your spine. The playing zaps and dashes, strong riffs flexing their muscles and scrambling your brains like a milkshake. “Nickel Grass Mosaic” attacks with mammoth riffs, approaching you angularly, stabbing with fire as all of the playing tangles, blasting before choking with pulverizing smoke. “Ocean Vertigo” has the heat rising dangerously, hanging before the track busts open, the shrieks killing your entire cell structure. The chaos slaughters as the playing makes your insides quakes, blasting into a weird deep haze.

“Octave Serpent” is the first of a four-track assault that drives in, devastates, and leaves. Shrieks mangle along with shocking speed that ravages your body and leaves you heaving. The title track is an urgent crush of fast riffs, panicked screams, and mashing horrors that feel like all of your veins are being pressed together. “Zygomatic” feels like it has somewhere to be very soon, and before that appointment, the band chews with metal teeth, the guitars race with scorching tenacity, and at the end, it feels like your flesh has been pulled from muscle and bone. “Refrain” is calm at first, disarmingly so, and then we’re suddenly in full speed, making it impossible to catch a breath. The viciousness smokes as shrieks smash, and the exclamation point is stabbed home. “The Forgers Secade” starts with the drums slaying, vicious shrieks falling like acid rain, the guitars lathering with lava. The menace multiplies, the guitars toy with your mentality, and the track exits in a strange fog. Closer “Revenant Orchard” is tornadic and slashing, the pace knifing its way through your ribcage, the drumming turning rock into dust. A dreamier sequence sets in, only to be disrupted by horrifying shrieks, the last gasps melting planets.

For those times when our frustration gets to be too much, when we want to physically take something apart but know we can’t, there’s always Gridlink to help us get out that pain. “Coronet Juniper” is almost comically heavy and angry, something that seems like it’s having a hard time dealing with what is chewing at the nerves yet finding a way to contain the violence into something constructive. This band always finds a way to shock your system, and this record, as brief as it may be, never fails to dig into your brain and pull out all of the negative energy.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/GridLink512

To buy the album, go here: https://www.willowtip.com/bands/details/gridlink.aspx

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

I went outside today, and the heat and humidity were just uncompromising. Walking any length made the lightheadedness strike hard, as I was trying to find a place to catch balance. Nothing felt good about it, and considering we’d just come out of the nicest temperatures all summer, this was almost an insult. The earth is beginning to lay waste to us for our sins.

Brazilian death metal crushers Fossilization discovered a way to make that oppressive temperature come through in their music. The band’s debut record “Leprous Daylight” is a filthy, sludging, and violent, an eight-track pounder that this band—vocalist/guitarist/bassist V, drummer P—builds off the strength of their debut EP “He Whose Name Was Long Forgotten” and split with Ritual Necromancy to make things more viscous, more unforgiving, and more intense. These 37 minutes might feel like they blast back in no time, but once the music is done, you’ll realize you’re paying a dear price that won’t resolve easily.

“Archæan Gateway” is a doomy, sweltering intro track that trudges its way into “Once Was God” that is ominous and dark as it arrives. Murky, burly hell unloads, the guitars catching fire even amid all the soot. Massive heat exhales, the fuzzy guitars engorge, and things manage to get even more sinister before bowing out to the finish. “Oracle of Reversion” is thick as hell as the growls land like blades, the guitars scorching as a death metal assault gets fully under way. Growls curdle as the tempo digs in its heels a little, grinding you down with power instead of speed. The exhaust coming off the guitars weighs down on you, the snarls twist your muscles, and the mashing pace ends in suffocation. “At the Heart of the Nest” brings spiraling guitars and rumbling growls, the heat penetrating as the smoking pace turns molten. The growls manage to get even dirtier, the pace bleeding over, trucking over plasma, bone, and nails before fading into the soil.

The title track ignites with vile howls, a heavy haze hanging over everything, jolting with ugly and immoral intent. Melodies tidal wave and unite with the infernal assault that chokes out all oxygen, the track burning to its finish. “The Night Spoke the Tongue of Flames” splatters as the chaos builds, the slow-driving madness leaning into steamy, stewy chaos. The guitars explode all over, blistering with lurching growls and blasting wills. “Eon” slowly catches fire and hangs overhead like a poisonous cloud. The deathly assault staggers and keeps landing bigger blows, and the guitars start a hypnotic push that brings thing to a boil. The drums kick hard, and the elements totally fucking destroy until everything is dust. Closer “Wrought in the Abyss” is nasty and scarring, the humidity spreading, warping and piling on the ugliness. The pressure mounts and the leads scorch and spread, savaging with a calculated pace and a sinister intent that goes out in smoke.

Fossilization certainly create doomy death metal that feels like being stuck inside a loaf of hot bread, just gasping steam while you strive for some sort of vision. “Leprous Daylight” is a mangling, disgusting slab of death that makes it impossible to feel comfortable and always make it feel like you’re face first in the mud. This is a pulverizing debut, one that promises only broken bones and blood to its victims.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://everlastingspew.com/21-everlasting-spew-releases

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

Taking a journey within one’s mind to get a greater understanding of who we are can be an incredibly rewarding experience but also a stressful one. As many things we can learn about ourselves and our journeys that gives us what we need to have a fuller existence, the exploration and the path can be strenuous both mentally and physically, leasing to exhaustion. Even if the effort is a fruitful one.

Taking on “Evolvement,” the debut full-length from progressive death metal force Tegmentum, lets you take that trip and also levels you with their creative powers. Progressive death metal is a section of extreme music that has exploded well beyond its bounds, and honestly, it’s a style of music that wears on me and rarely gives me something for which to be excited. But then there are bands like this one where its members—vocalist Chelsea Murphy, guitarist Michael Ball, bassist Kenji Tsunami, drummer Andrew Baird—obviously are incredibly capable players but never just lean into that alone. There’s a lot of heart and soul woven into this intergalactic sojourn, so you actually feel the music rather than absorb the virtuosity. These four bring experience from other forces such as Worm of Ouroboros, Ontogeny, Fallujah, Cailleach Calling, and plenty of others, and they use those skills they sharpened there to make Tegmentum an even more intense beast.

“Innocuous” features Yvette Young of Covet and cellist Jerry Liu, so we’re already neck-deep in a lot of great players combining for what’s essentially an intro track, and an immersive one. The track is breezy and spacey, gently spilling as the clouds part, strings ache, and we’re headed into “Moments Ago” that surges and explodes with shrieks from Murphy. The playing is monstrous and crushing, guitars swelling as giant melodies swallow you up, and scorching heat comes on the back-end, crushing and then bleeding away. “Accolades” features Young again, and the track lands punches, the leads taking off for the stars. Roars destroy as the base rumbles and scathes, mauling as molten chaos feels like it bleeds from your pores. The track turns muddy and jarring, the strings pull at your guts, and clean singing jars muscles, everything ending in a burly blast. “Amygdala” (side note: mine is commonly not my friend) twists with anxious tension, the raw howls bruising, down-tuned power spitting mud and drubbing brains. Clean guitars drip as the playing smooshes, the menace creeping down your spine, howls piling up, the guitars then going off. The track goes on a prog-infested zap into the cosmos, tangling and speeding, the calm then coming in doses, crushing out into a haze of sound.

“Emergent Properties” is a jolting, manic display, stretching and retching, a violent interlude that turns into “Genetic Assimilation” that includes Nik Sampson (of Devilment and also the current bassist for the legendary Benediction), and it dawns with beastly howls, crushing with power, the sounds twisting and contorting as your own mental edge is frayed. The leads take off and coil around your brain, the pace steamrolling and electrifying, exploding with brutality that’s doubled by Murphy’s ferocious vocals, everything ending in universal panic. “I Remain” contains contributions from Noah Frank and opens in blistering fire, the growls snarling in your belly, tricky and furious playing having its way with your mind. The heat doubles and becomes impossible to handle, and then Frank’s horns wash in and add a sense of calm, adding a sultry element to twisted devastation. The pace completely darkens, the playing turns grisly, and hellish howls round out into terror. Closer “Gospel of Sand” is an interesting one, beginning tricky and proggy, spiraling and slaying as vile intentions become apparent. The playing mauls as the soloing chars, leading into colder waters that bring down the temperature, but that’s a trick as madness is waiting behind the door. The playing comes unglued and manages to scramble your senses even further, and the final stretch sounds like an unsettling and freezing horror soundscape, the one that makes you feel like danger is nipping at your security.

Tegmentum’s impressive debut “Evolvement” rises many levels above many of the other gray, faceless bands that have tried this same style and don’t resonate much beyond the impressive playing. This band has a creative, fiery heart that keeps you tuned into everything going on, and Murphy has proved time and again to be a compelling, dexterous vocalist capable of many twists and turns. This is a firebreather of an album that hints that as good as this is, the future might be even more exciting.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.m-theoryaudio.com/store

For more on the label, go here: https://www.m-theoryaudio.com/

It’s the middle of the night, total darkness, and your body is resting, trying to recharge from the day you just finished. But something grabs you out of the slumber and you awaken, only you can’t move. At all. You’re perfectly aware you’re awake and this isn’t a dream, and your anxiety suddenly begins to thunderstorm through your system, crippling you with fear.

Sleep paralysis is a horrifying trauma, an event that only lasts a minute or two, but if you don’t know what’s happening, it can be a petrifying event that scars you horribly. It’s a real-life incident that’s scarier than demons and devils and blood, and it’s the theme of “Zmora,” the new full-length album (his second overall) from black metal force Bialywilk. The project is solely helmed by Marek Cimochowicz (formerly of Vukari), and his dive into this phenomenon is oddly serene at times even when it’s raining down with nails. But for the rest, the intensity squeezes and storms, making you try to grip to your remaining psychological wellness, hanging on just so you can move and speak again when consciousness returns.

“NDE” starts feeling like it’s floating in space, synth surrounding you and immersing your mind in a dream land that’s about to become a terror. The title track awakens with guitars driving and swelling as the growls flex and merge into a strange transmission. Howls barrel out of that as the force stings flesh, melody builds and glazes, and everything boils with ferocity, the atmosphere thickening and adding pressure to your skull. “Fever Dreams” is punchy and aggressive as growls emerge, melodies release smoke, and the wildness triples and echoes. The vocals wrench as the playing increases its grip, slashing away as the sonic violence buries you in power. A gusty surge breaks as vile growls reemerge and challenge your physical and mental well-being before disappearing into a fog.

“Nine of Swords” has a massive open as the melodies barge their way through the doors, and the pace is plastering, making it impossible to find steady footing. The playing has great, even infectious energy, punishing and pulsating, the drums laying waste to everything laid before it. The beast turns and gushes with power, the growls hammer anew, and a gigantic avalanche crushes bones before fading away. “The Apical Drive” has growls bursting from the seams, tornadic forces sending shrapnel flying, and a storming, blistering pace that becomes a force with which to be reckoned. The drums send pulses rippling through your veins, a heavy melodic surge tears through the fabric of time, and the guitars sting, leaving flesh prone and writhing. “NDE II” closes the album with synth enveloping, the stars coming back and chilling your brain, bleeding and blurring into time, your body releasing you from your prison.

The thematic elements of “Zmora” is more terrifying than what is on so many other black metal records because waking in the middle of the night, crippled, panic racing through your body is about as horrifying a concept as anything. The fact that Cimochowicz makes this music so captivating and even exciting is a credit to creating something so horrible yet believably palpable. Bialywilk’s journey has just gotten started, and with records as strong and emotionally provoking as this one, we’re merely on the precipice of what Cimochowicz is capable with in this project.

For more on the band, go here: https://bialywilk.bandcamp.com/track/nine-of-swords

To buy the album, go here: https://vendettarecords.bigcartel.com/category/vendetta-records-releases

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

For more on the label, go here: https://vendetta-records.com/

And here: https://www.facebook.com/vitadetestabilisrecords