How desperate is Nuclear Blast? Are they bleeding money? Are they destitute and absolutely had to sign one of the most reprehensible artists in music in order to save a sinking ship?

Yet here we are, just a few years after signing Tim Lambesis (and As I Lay Dying) after he got out of prison for serving a paltry three years for a murder-for-hire scheme intended to kill his then wife. He was sentenced to six years after pleading guilty on a solicitation of murder charge. Sure, one can point that he did his time, and he has expressed remorse for what he did. But it was two years after his release, basically handing him and his band a deal and not making Lambesis prove anything. He walked back into his career on one of metal’s biggest labels. There was no prove-it period. Here’s your job back. Cool. I do believe in second chances; trying to murder your wife should require a lot more work and time before that second chance is offered.

Now, the label announced the signing of Marilyn Manson (born Brian Warner) whose heyday is so far in the rearview mirror it’s almost comical. But labels sign legacy artists all the time. Most don’t have the sexual assault/harassment accusation storm that Manson has, and it’s such a bad look to be doing business with this guy. Except Nuclear Blast doesn’t seem to mind.

I don’t care to recount all of the accusations because there are so goddamn many that it’s hard to keep a handle on it all. The Vulture did a pretty good job summarizing all of this, which you can read here. It’s long and it’s ugly and if he wasn’t a famous person, there’s a good chance he’d be rotting in jail. Instead, he’s releasing music through Nuclear Blast Records. A total of 16 people have made a wide range of claims against Manson, with five people claiming sexual assault. Five people. One should be disqualifying. He’s on five. Loma Vista dropped him in 2021 once abuse allegations were made by former fiancée Evan Rachel Wood, and Manson obviously has denied all charges. In every case. Try not to be surprised. Some of the cases have been dismissed (statute of limitations in some cases, one because the complainant didn’t hire new legal representation, and one person did recant her story altogether). Manson settled cases with one Jane Doe on a rape case and with actress Esme Bianco, who detailed a hellish and controlling relationship.

Manson has a history you can’t hand waive away. It’s not one or two people making claims. It’s clear this is not a stable person, not a good person, and there’s no purpose of doing business with someone who very easily could have more skeletons ready to climb from his closet. But we live in a capitalistic society, money is all that matters, and sadly, there are going to be people who will lap this shit up. Fuck doing the right thing. There are dollars to be made. Probably not as many as Manson would have made a few decades ago, but I’m sure they think they benefit from name recognition alone.

Oh, and Nuclear Blast had to know the shit storm was coming as they’ve disabled the comments section on all of the Manson announcements so far. Almost like they know this is a bad call. And they’re too cowardly to let their audience have their say.

I doubt this will hurt Nuclear Blast, and I’m sure they don’t give a fuck what someone like me and this site has to say. He’ll keep playing shows to people who also don’t give a fuck what he did and will probably mumble some mummified line about cancel culture (which I think we can lay to rest as something that even exists) or woke culture or whatever allows them not to feel guilty about supporting an alleged serial abuser.

Hopefully nothing else is out there that will make this signing even worse of an idea. I say that not because it’ll be beneficial to Nuclear Blast but because if nothing else comes out it means there aren’t other voiceless victims out there. This is a gross business move. It makes me not want to cover their artists though, if I’m being honest, they don’t have many bands these days that I care about, and stories I write about their roster don’t perform terribly well as it is. Lose/lose, I guess. This site is a microscopic being in an ocean, I realize, so I’m sure they’re sweating this out. I just can’t sit back and not say anything after they’ve done this yet again.

Quit platforming accused sexual abusers, especially when they have a laundry list of accusers. Stop giving them power and money. Let Manson suffer like his alleged victims have.

People unfamiliar with the ins and outs of metal’s countless subgenres probably find death metal ridiculous. You can hear jabs people make about it, the vocals especially, and whatever, man. People who love it revel in the blood-soaked gore, the over-the-top horrors, and the violent sounds that somehow calm the terror in us all.

New York was one of the hotbeds of death metal originally, boasting Cannibal Corpse, Suffocation, Immolation and others, and over the past few years, Undeath have done a smashing job learning from the masters and creating a world their own. On their great third record “More Insane,” the band—vocalist Alexander Jones, guitarists Kyle Beam and Jared Welch, bassist Tommy Wall, drummer Matt Browning—ups the ante from their previous work (2020 debut “Lesions of a Different Kind” and 2022 breakthrough “It’s Time … to Rise From the Grave”)  by delivering an even more refined vision with equal amounts bloodshed and relentless melody. Listeners wanting all-out brutality can find that here for sure, but there’s also an accessibility that can let in those who are curious but don’t want their heads removed right away. That lets them take a beating, develop some calluses, and indoctrinate themselves into the most vicious form of heavy metal.

“Dead From Beyond” opens with militaristic drumming before it tears apart, drubbing as the leads electrify. Riffs sweep over the chorus, the harsh growls adding to the punishment, speed then exploding as soloing rockets through the skies, everything coming to a crushing end. The title track blisters, crushing force coming your way, snarling drums combining with prog-infested bass that slithers at will. Brutality spurts as the vocals clutch throats, crazed riffs going wild as the final gusts blacken eyes. “Brandish the Blade” fires up as strong riffs and inescapable melodies combine, making for something that’s a little sugary on the surface but deadly at its heart. “We know! The time is now!” Jones howls, the playing gradually slowing and pulverizing, fluid soloing working through the murk as the chorus eats into ribcages. “Disputatious Malignancy” is thick and engorging, burly at its core, and then things  turn ugly and savage. The attack is jarring and quaking in a hurry, roars crushing wills, and the guitars zapping into oblivion. “Sutured for War” feels glorious when it dawns, growls snaking, guttural playing heading into lumbering mud. Growls maul as it feels like skulls are being buried beneath pavement, crushing until the final second.

“Cramped Caskets (Necrology)” bludgeons and thrashes, heading full force through soot, riffs crawling and gliding through the dirt, darkness dropping and blanketing the earth. “Bodies mashed together,” Jones wails, a hilarious yet morbid vision of way too many corpse locked into the same casket, and the drums round back and give this an even deadlier aura. “Bounty Hunter” returns to the mud, mucking up the gears and filling your veins with sludge. The vocals punch as the brutality thickens, the riffs smearing, Jones vowing, “I will claim your bounty,” before the band ends it with a blunt hammer shot. “Wailing Cadavers” actually swings a bit and also blisters, stomping and darting through the darkness, leaving flesh charred. Growls seethe as the pace gets slower and more brutal, fading into the deepest reaches of hell. “Disattachment of a Prophylactic in the Brain” is a goddamn mouthful, and it enters with the drumming driving with attitude, the guitars lighting up, and Jones spitting out his words like they’re poisoning him. The band slips into thrashy waters, and then a blindingly fast gust knifes toward prone victims, the guitars going off and blistering out of control. Closer “Bones Clattering in the Cave” smashes and slays, the boiling temperatures leaving sweat and grit on your brow, throaty vocals scraping flesh. The playing turns seething and insane, the pace blasting in a renewed burst, heaviness raining down mercilessly, Jones’ final screams rippling into time.

The gore and horror on “More Insane” burst out of every crevice as Undeath continue their upward trajectory with bludgeoning power on this third record. If you’re one of those people so serious about death metal that you can’t have any fun, then this likely isn’t the record for you. For the rest of us, this is another generous serving of the grossest, catchiest death metal you’re bound to hear this autumn, and each visit with this record unlocks more ghouls, demons, and blood that keep you disgustingly nourished.

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

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

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

Grieving is a really strange thing. You hear about the five stages people experiencing this must go through, but it’s not until you’re in its clutches that you realize that experience is not linear and you face each phase often at the same time. That hurt often can expose other feelings, most notably anger, and it can make healing that much harder to achieve.

Maul’s second record “In the Jaws of Bereavement” drives to the heart of the grieving process, and over 10 tracks and 39 minutes, the band—vocalist Garrett Alvarado, triple-guitars attack Anthony Lamb, Alex Nikolas, and Josh Sanborn, bassist/vocalist Mike Griggs, drummer Robby Anderson—addresses the issues of dealing with loss and its aftermath with the proper amounts of frustration, chaos, and destruction, informing their pounding death metal with a hardcore edge and relentless misery. It’s an album that’s heavy in more ways than one, and the journey through it can leave you sore and breathless.

The title track opens with muddy, beastly power, barked vocals ripping through you, the pummeling taking on a hardcore feel. Haze wraps over the chorus, and then the band slays again, dragging a filthy, gutting pace toward “Blood Quantum” that slashes upon contact and unleashes beastly growls. The playing trudges, vicious leads opening and pouring lava, the pace slowing but not sacrificing a sliver of heaviness. Growls boil and retch as the pressure scrambles brains, dissolving into strange ambiance. “Weaving Cerebral Horrors” is burly and bruising, the chugging pace chewing flesh, the leads stirring the humidity that becomes nearly uninhabitable. Guitars boil in blood as the growls lather with foamy plasma, the massacre ripping to an abrupt end. “Spontaneous Stigmata” is heated as the guitars blister, again gnawing on hardcore veins, gruff howls leaving ample bruising. The heat gets more intense as the mercury crashes through glass tubes, the growls engorging as leads flutter, burying bodies deep in the soil. “Alluring Deceit” opens amid cold guitars, the growls letting the ice thicken, the force burying bodies beneath pounds of sludge. The playing leans into a strange storm of sounds, disorienting before everything fades.

“Midwest Death” brings scuffing howls, a driving and punchy pace, and then things calm, giving a slight reprieve before the next serving of brutality. Growls menace as the pace kicks up, mud caking veins, a suddenly calculated tempo spiraling into a vortex. “Unbridled Delusions” opens with a solid riff that stings and dizzies, the playing getting faster and seemingly promising carnage. It delivers just that, the pace getting steamy and thick like a stew, speak singing wailing away and causing contusions, guitars spiraling into a lightless pit. “Stuck Stomped and Smeared” has grinding riffs, a force that feel like it’s trying to piledrive you into a hill of nails, the bass so thick it feels like it’s tunneling through the earth. Agony strikes harder as the guitars smoke and make breathing a task, never relenting on the misery that pulls you all the way under. “With Each Voracious Lick” is a fast one, a filthy, punishing piece that pulverizes from the word go, coating lungs with coal residue, the guitars driving a wedge right through your chest. Closer “Drawn to Drowning” emerges from strange noise, and then techy leads attack, screams ripping as the playing clouds the senses. Guitars pick up the pace all over, roars spreading and amplifying the horrors, everything driving to a finish as menacingly as possible.

As its title indicates, “In the Jaws of Bereavement” is a dark, emotionally taxing record that delivers destruction in ample servings musically and adds an extra dagger thematically. Maul’s mix of death metal and hardcore continues to develop and wallop, putting you to the test repeatedly over these 10 tracks and refusing to give you room the breathe. This record is a wrecking machine in more than one way, and it’s one that will reward you over repeated listens as its layers of fury slowly reveal themselves to you.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/collections/maul

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

It’s about to get dark earlier, and the weather is supposed to take a nosedive, or at least that’s what the calendar would lead you to believe. As I write this, autumn has arrived, and it was hot enough here on the East Coast of the United States that my dog tapped out on a walk. And she never does that. But one of these days, it will be time for scares and chills.

While I’m sure Light of the Morning Star didn’t create their new EP “Wings in the Night Sky” specifically to act as a partner for this time of the year, these four tracks fit these months like a blood-soaked glove. This project that pairs vocalist/multi-instrumentalist O-A and drummer JSM (who also crushes worlds in Ulcerate) ended their three-year silence with this brooding, alluring collection that sinks even deeper into the oceans of despair. The music centers on the grave, which might seem obvious simply from the haunting nature of the music. But they throw in elements of discovering strange pathways and “ghostly vampirism,” and you have something that will shake you to the bone.

“Night Falls” plays with elements of dark and light right away, melodies seeping in as O-A ‘s deep singing adds a thickness to their gothic drama. Creaky speaking sends chills, and total darkness is conjured, the chorus digging into your psyche before this phantom fades away. “Burial Chamber Cold” is doomy, breathy singing setting the aura, keys washing over as the fog in the distance begins to accumulate. Guitars hang in the air as the pace picks up, drilling through cold, dreary evening, winds chilling before an abrupt end. “Phantomlights” is faster, whispers whipping through the air, guitars spiraling as O-A’s singing rushes to the surface. Icy waters gush and soak, leaving you quaking, then the chorus hits back again, flowing into a fluid end. Closer “Aura” is melodic and stimulating, synth building as voices turn cataclysmic, keys creating a miasmal atmosphere that causes psychic confusion. The singing turns more sinister, guitars stinging as whispers slip back in, sounds melting into oblivion, bowing to eternal lightlessness.

With the spookiest of times just about upon us, it’s perfect listening atmosphere with Light of the Morning Star and this great EP “Wings in the Night Sky.” Their blend of gothic, chilling metal and dark rock swells and creates a disarming storm that obscures light and should perfectly soundtrack the coming chills in the air. This is a nice appetizer and a solid building block to their next full-length, which will be another attempt for them to sink their teeth deep into your neck.

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

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

Or here (Europe): https://www.debemur-morti.com/en/12-eshop

For more on the label, go here: https://www.debemur-morti.com/en/

Thrash metal hasn’t aged or developed nearly as well as death, doom, and black metal, and finding impactful bands and records in that subgenre has been a little tougher to accomplish. For every band such as, say, Midnight that has made a true mark over the last decade, there are plenty more that didn’t have what it takes to make people stand up and take notice.

Luckily, we in Pittsburgh have a gift to share with everyone else, that being Vicious Blade, whose debut record “Relentless Force” is about to land with the impact of an asteroid knifing through the earth. This nine-track, 28-minute pounder is an ideal follow-up to their 2022 EP “Siege of Cruelty, that was released by Steel City stronghold Our Ancient Future, and it shows even more confidence and tenacity from a band that wasn’t exactly bereft of those qualities. Redefining Darkness Records obviously took notice and brought Vicious Blade—vocalist Clarissa Badini (also of Castrator), guitarists Jeff Ellsworth and Erik Wynn, bassist Justin Pelissero, drummer Kevin Parent—into the fold to give them and this smothering record the added exposure they both richly deserve. As a lifelong fan of thrash, I’ve been excited about this band from the start, and it’s awesome to watch them climb to new heights and conquer fresh worlds.

The title track opens and burns its way in, the band setting up shop early with Badini’s wild howls ripping down your spine. The playing bruises hard, the guitars charging, a commanding storm collecting and blasting with defiance. “Lunacy” cuts open and moves forward with commanding speed and beasty calls, Badini wailing, “Lunacy is in control!” The pace gets deadlier as the soloing scorches, delivering great energy and meaty thrash that pulverizes bones. “Mistress of Death” crunches, Badini’s scathing voice peeling the whites from your eyes. Guttural and charging, the playing pushes you down as melodic leads explode and lather with power, and the attack continues to get more animalistic, guitars blazing to an abrupt end. “Visceral Weakness” brings added guitar sizzle, a direct and violent approach that leaves ample bruising. Things get wilder as the speed pedal is pushed through the floor, racing and tangling, leaving everything in a smoldering ash pile.

“Forged Steel” fires up with yelled vocals and guitars matching that venom, shrieks later adding a sharp edge to the proceedings. There’s a bit of a punk feel injected into the mix, scathing and melting as Badini declares, “We are forged steel.” “Blasphemous Conjuring” takes time to build its pressure, the playing eventually dashing and racing, devouring everything whole. Badini’s words paint a ritualistic picture, the guitars chugging along with her to further blacken skies, the leads catching fire and choking everything with smoke. “Nocturnal Slaughter” explodes out of the gates, throaty howls from Badini driving through your chest, fluid playing combining with audio violence that promises no mercy. As the track develops, so does the ferocity, becoming an even bigger factor, grinding bodies all the way to the finish. “Scorched” basks in corrosive growls and guitars that tease hyper speed, the charging making it tough to gain your footing, things even turning a little brighter amid all of the carnage. The pace gets chunkier and bloodier, going head first into the furnace, refusing to take any safety precautions. Closer “Death Blow” actually opens with cleaner guitars, letting the humidity become a factor, eventually ripping through guts as the madness comes to life. Throaty howls blacken eyes, airy melodies add new texture to the thrash brutality, darkness enveloping as everything comes to a morbid end.

Vicious Blade not only keeps their thrash metal sword dangerously sharp and bloody, but they also prove their meddle is solid as hell on “Relentless Force.” The band continues to build on their already powerful foundation with this first full serving that should announce their arrival with an impact that will knock people on their asses. We in Pittsburgh already know what this band brings to the table, and with Redefining Darkness behind them, the rest of the world is about to learn thrash is alive, well, and dripping with blood.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://redefiningdarkness.8merch.us/

Or here (rest of the world): https://redefiningdarkness.8merch.com/

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

Not all death metal was created equal, which is a pretty obvious statement on the surface, even more so when you dig through all the new music that gets released each week. There are plenty of really good bands pooling and giving listeners a treasure trove of art on which to feast, and then there are the masters that continually rise above and decimate.

Ripped to Shreds undoubtedly exist in the upper echelon of death metal bands, and their mind-bending fourth record “Sanshi” is another example of why this force exists in rarified air. Over 10 manic tracks, the band—vocalist/guitarist Andrew Lee, guitarist Michael Chavez, bassist Ryan Cavaleras, drummer Brian Do—attacks with an urgency, mixed with gnarly grind tendencies and a violent cohesion that is the result of a full band effort for the first time in RTS history. Thematically, the band unleashes ancient Chinese traditions, including morbid death rituals that include the use of exotic dancers for twisted funeral ceremonies. This band never goes the conventional route and always leans toward their ancestors folklore and history, presented in a convulsive, violent package.

“Into the Court of Yanluowang” rips open, vile howls retching, guitars going off as the nastiness is amplified. The playing absolutely steamrolls, great guitar interplay exploding and making adrenaline spike, the aura going from spacious to blazing. “Force Fed” revels in speed, shrieks and grunts trading off to add to the ugliness, bruising jolts mixing with the dashes of lightning. Everything then crunches harder, mauling and buzz sawing, the chants of, “Die! Die!” rippling down your spine. “燒冥紙 (Sacrificial Fire)” clobbers from the start, guitars snaking through rivers of blood, a gnarly chorus eating into muscle. The pace then slows and revels in smoke, the atmosphere exploding as guitars soar, and then the sudden combustion rubs your face in the dust. “孽鏡臺 (Visions of Sin, Mirror of Darkness)” has guitars lighting up, glazing, and then stabbing, the vocals trading off from guttural growls to manic shrieks. The parts keep piling up, sickening with sinewy madness, Lee wailing, “Escape! Escape! No escape!” as the last strains burn off. “Feast of the Deceased” is dizzying and spindly, a thrashy onslaught making its force felt, churning into unforgiving fire. Leads melt as fluid soloing gushes with power, a classic metal feel working through hungry veins, even bending progressive as the path drives into the side of a mountain.

“殭屍復活 (Horrendous Corpse Resurrection)” chugs with commanding guitars and battering lava, shrieks coupling with death growls to make a savage union, a punkish vibe suddenly exploding into the music. Things gets even faster and more daring, barreling toward a violent conclusion. “Living in Effigy” delivers a punch right to the throat, thrashy quaking making the room shake, throaty howls rocketing toward chest cavities. Guitars tear open, guts exploding from the seams, zapping through piles of prone bodies, the drums suddenly combusting and blasting through the crust of the earth. “冥婚 (Corpse Betrothal)” delivers riffs that chew through gristle, growls scorching as the tempo makes it feel like the room is spinning out of control. The drums blister as scathing screams amplify nightmares, fiery screams tearing through time, slowly burning down along with the planet. “Cultivating Towards Ascension” is unhinged and grinding, calling to mind some of Lee’s other projects, as does the closer. We’ll get there. Flesh is torn, brains tangled as the drums explode and spit rocks, the guitars engulfing with pressure, decimating to the end. The closer is “Perverting the Funeral Rites, Stripping for the Dead,” a track as insane as its title indicates, sickening with brutality, vocals spat out as Lee demands, “Strip for the dead!” Fluid leads turn hyper as faces are smashed, the dead teased with strange dances from the cult assembled, blasting into the land of the souls.

“Sanshi” is an exotic, violent record, as well as one of Ripped to Shreds’ most insane recordings to date. It feels like there is no downtime whatsoever, no chance to take a breath amid these tracks that call back to traditions that might be new to a wide swath of their audience. This band never fails to deliver death metal that pushes you in directions you never expected and into terrain you never thought you’d visit. The end result is physical and mental brutality that leave you gasping for breath.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/collections/ripped-to-shreds-sanshi

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

When Trevor Strnad died in 2022, the very existence of the Black Dahlia Murder was thrust into mystery, and rightfully so. Strnad not only was one of the unique voices in death metal, he was believer, a man who held aloft the banner of his chosen style and worked to help younger bands he felt had what it takes. His loss was devastating. It remains that way.

When the band decided to forge ahead, with long-time guitarist and founding member Brian Eschbach as vocalist, it remained to be seen if that was the right call. Live shows happened, and the enthusiasm started to build. The band—rounded out by guitarists Brandon Ellis and the returning Ryan Knight, bassist Max Lavelle, and drummer—stood to pay tribute to their fallen friend, which they did with those first performances, but the real evidence came in form of their 10^th record “Servitude,” an album that seemed unlikely a couple years ago. To the band’s credit, it feels like they never left, and even the mammoth void Strnad left behind is filled capably by Eschbach. Never does he try to ape his friend’s work, but his vocals bear some resemblance, which makes his voice fit even better, and this is more than a worthy addition to a revered collection and surely would make Strnad proud with how his friends carried on.

“Evening Ephemeral” starts with waves crashing and what sounds like dulcimer passages before we head into terror, jarring open as Eschbach roars for the first time, keeping up a very similar clip as Strnad showed but with his own attitude and approach. It more than fits. Guitars open and swallow whole as the pressure gets gnarlier, the words mangling with blades, airy leads taking everything home. “Panic Hysteric” starts like classic TBDM, attacking as the vocals spiral with an endless fury, tricky hooks flooding and playing games with your mind. The path then gets more manic, matching its title, the growls smothering through a fire storm. “Aftermath” explodes,  Eschbach going for the throat with his animalistic growls, speed and savagery uniting to make a formidable pair. Leads soar as we head into a bendier attack, blows administered generously, bursting to a spirited finish. “Cursed Creator” is darker when it dawns, the vocals feeling a little grittier, humid guitars swelling and adding a near-lush quality to the melodies. Well, as lush as death metal can be. Guttural growls strike as the guitars crawl, the playing sprawling before coming to a properly metallic end. “An Intermission” is aptly named, a quick acoustic cut that’s awash with serenity that soon will be undone.

“Asserting Dominion” punishes, the screams strangling, melodies mixing in with a death crush that disorients and then picks up speed suddenly. The intensity is heavy as riffs zap, the howls encircle almost like the death drain on the cover, guitars glistening as the final veins rupture. The title track is punishing and relentless, ripping as Eschbach’s screams come at you like a mouthful of spat glass, even leaning a bit into black metal territory. The leads gash as the nastiness spikes, guitars crushing as everything succumbs to a dark exhaust. “Mammoth’s Hand” opens with gutting growls, trudging horror, and layered guitars that add layers of vicious power. Moody leads arrive and spread gloom, a reflective haze letting you bask in the bloodshed, curdling howls bringing everything to a weighty conclusion. “Transcosmic Blueprint” is another that feels right out of the classic TBDM playbook, the attack coming with a ferocity and tenacity that pack a jolting blow. The growls lay waste while the guitar interplay is infectious and burly, borderline playful, and the back end of the track storms and slashes its way through. Closer “Utopia Black” feels dark and doomy when it starts, the guitars chugging and then racing, the bubbling menace becoming incredibly morbid. Howls splatter, digging deep into the guts for pools of gastric acid, and the final gasps of carnage disappear back into the whirlpool claiming souls into the abyss.

Replacing a longtime member, especially one as beloved as Strnad, is not easy task, but TBDM knock this out of the park on “Servitude.” If anything, this record and this path with Eschbach singing was an even bigger undertaking because, if done wrong, could have destroyed a lot of good will. But you can tell this record was created with their hearts in the right place, with blades held in tribute to their fallen friend, and with a blaze burning onward to the future in this new era for the Black Dahlia Murder.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://metalblade.indiemerch.com/

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

As I sit here, schools are being evacuated in Ohio over a fucking bullshit story a vice presidential candidate spread. We could be months from a dictatorship that could lead to the end of democracy, something one party doesn’t even think exists. People still believe diseases aren’t real. Every day is hotter than the one before. Other than that, shit rules.

Out of the blue at the start of September, death freak show Pyrrhon crept back out of the ashes with their maniacal fifth record “Exhaust,” a 10-track, 38-minute destroyer that manages to up the band’s already insane ante. To create this album, the band—vocalist Doug Moore, guitarist Dylan DiLella, bassist Erik Malave, drummer Steve Schwegler—retreated to cabin in rural Northeastern Pennsylvania to let their unhinged creative process flow freely. The band confronted our decaying society and political framework that even would make a fascist leader possible as well as contending with the constant presence of social media, the burgeoning AI industry, and other elements that try to claim our sanity and peace on a daily basis. Yes, all Pyrrhon records are a challenge musically and psychologically, but “Exhaust” takes things even further into the void. By the way, unlike a lot of surprise releases, the physical copies already exist. I got my record like 3 days after I ordered on release date, though I like like 20 miles from the label home. Still, a nice touch to already have this in hand.

“Not Going to Mars” rumbles in manic fire, which is no surprise on the surface, but locking into this is like a panic attack. Shrieks rain down as the guitars decimate, and violent, dizzying heat become formidable factors. Things pull back for a moment, then it’s back to the feast, drowning out in spacious weirdness. “First as Tragedy, Then as Farce” boils with deranged shrieks and blinding speed, the lower end lumbering, cortisol raging through veins. The assault increases the psychological violence, pushing it to emergency levels, raging to a raucous end. “The Greatest City on Earth” mounts a massive guitar attack, dizzying with zany and spacey devastation, pushing sanity to the limit. Coarse howls meet with spattering speed, trucking and thrashing into the grave. “Strange Pains” begins with a forceful drums-bass pathway, setting the stage for a mathy electricity storm that reminds of vintage Dillinger Escape Plan. That energy continues to warp, bloodthirst turning into a mission, thick oil slicks causing you to lose control and succumb to power. “Out of Gas” opens amid a deathrock-style spiral, darkening the mood, speak-singing poking congealing wounds. Bass clogs as the noises echo, Moore warbling, “It’s just me and the concrete now,” before shrieks slash, anguish turning into a mechanical nightmare.

“Luck of the Draw” trucks, howls strangling, the thrashiness increasing its stranglehold and making the road even bumpier. Guitars numb as the shrieks peel flesh, tingling tension increasing and slugging to a slaughtering finish. “Concrete Charlie” spits an off-kilter melody, which seems silly to say considering what’s transpired already, but this push is a brain melter. Growls rumble as rubbery melodies bounce off skulls, blood spiking, animalistic cries rippling through skeletal structures, ending in a tornadic blister. “Stress Fractures” is an immediate assault, sickening and creating a nauseating mental breakdown, scrambling brains inside skulls. The elements feel like they’re poured into a hellish blender, howls lurching, guitars sending bizarre signals, a maniacal finish seemingly the only sane way to end this. “Last Gasp” is steamy and humid, a bizarre darkness unfurling and sending listeners on a cold journey though psychosis. Sounds scuff and then take off toward the sky, power jolting as the shrieks rip, the playing melting away as we end with a clip from “Mad Max 2.” Closer “Hell Medicine” smashes outright, growls engorging as the playing creates an aura you didn’t know was possible, surging with disarming ferocity. Torment is unleashed to a greater degree, guitars sweeping, growls corroding as your damaged mind finally is given peace, though at what cost?

“Exhaust” is an aptly titled, timely record especially in the madness in which we’re ensconced, and while it might have been a slog initially to put together, Pyrrhon pulled together and created an insane album for unsettling times. It feels like the entire country, likely the world, could use a similar retreat just to recalibrate and get a fucking hold of ourselves. That’s not going to happen, everything is going to continue to burn, we’re going to have to fight would-be dictators to the death, and music like this will be perfect for fueling that never-ending struggle.

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

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

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

It feels like forever ago, but it only was a few years ago that most of us were huddled at home, unable to do the normal things we would do, isolated from loved ones and friends as a global pandemic took hold. We’re largely back to normal now, though nowhere near out of the woods, and those times we endured can feel like an extended mental torture session where we were pushed to our psychological limits.

The birth of Dreamless Veil came out of that time, a musical project that started as a sort of solo project for Psycroptic drummer Dave Haley as he endured the same dismal times as we all did without his normal creative outlet. He recruited Inter Arma/Artificial Brain vocalist Mike Paparo to write lyrics and lay down his unmistakable pipes and brought in  Dan Gargiulo, also of Artificial Brain and late of Revocation, to contribute guitars, bass, synth, and vocals to what turned into a thunder-storming project. The result is “Every Limb of the Flood,” a concept piece that centers on a character named Grief who takes this journey only to discover he’s poisonous to himself and other people. Each track and all 36 minutes are spent telling the being’s volatile tale as the decision to potentially end his suffering looms large.

“Dim Golden Rave” starts wonderfully off kilter, guitars spiraling as anguished cries emerge, the heat giving off a late-summer vibe, which is fitting. Leads swirl as the vocals echo, a melodic gust and spacious melodies churning into space. “A Generation of Eyes” stirs in black metal heat, punishing as the reverbed vocals spin in your head, lush, yet speedy dashes making blood race. Guitars bleed and gust as blasts crush bones, hitting a tornadic force that disappears into sound. “Saturnism” has a savage start, fiery punches thrown, strangeness tearing into the cosmos, the storm growing and suddenly consuming everything whole. Howls crush as cold winds emerge, the power rattling to a smearing finish. “The Stirring of Flies” is dizzying as guitars tangle, throaty growls create a gale force wind, the playing then warps brains. Guitars go off as a cavernous spaciousness is achieved, the terror firing, fading.

“Cyanide Mine” has guitars carving and melodies gusting, shrieks aching before a mammoth riff sends you for a loop. The vocals continue to retch, charging with vicious intent, suddenly halting and letting guitars drip like a psychedelic syrup. The title track assaults with animalistic violence, crushing wills, the growls tunneling into the sides of skulls. An atmospheric push pulls back on the force but not the intensity, melodies flood generously, and wild cries slide into a diabolical fade. “Glossolalia” is ominous, Paparo’s cries wrenching, eerie streams making your flesh crawl. The playing floods the senses and stimulates nerve endings, chilling before dumping molten rock, barreling into a mind-altering reality. Closer “Dreamless” arrives amid crashing drums, progressive black metal prowess, and growls ripping at exposed wounds. Howls gurgle as the room begins to spin, the warmth increasing and growing increasingly volatile, sizzling and boiling, the guitars rushing off the edges before a serenity claims the final moments as its own.

At the end of “Every Limb of the Flood,” Grief becomes one of us, tired of having had to endure a string of hardships and just wanting to fade away forever. The timeframe in which Dreamless Veil created this music was during a span when it seemed like our lives never would return to normal, and in a way they haven’t. This album pulls from one of the darkest periods of recent memory and helps us relive those days over eight thunderous, thought-provoking crushers that reminds us we survived somehow, some way.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.instagram.com/dreamlessveil

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/collections/dreamless-veil-every-limb-of-the-flood

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

Very often when I try to sleep at night, I’ll use a wraparound headband with speakers built in and put on a cosmic black metal playlist. It just so happens the sounds of the stars mixed with the most unforgiving art form on the planet soothes me and helps inform my dreams, as I often go places in my mind I don’t at other times. I’ll likely do that tonight.

One of the regular artists that comprise that list is Esoctrilihum, the one-man project long helmed by sole creator Asthâghul, who has given us 11 full-length records since this banner’s debut eight years ago. The latest is “Döth-Derniàlh,” a seven-track, 78-minute adventure that sounds very much like the band’s previous output in spirit and adds a 12-string acoustic guitar to add extra texture, as well as a nyckelharpa. It’s an exciting new chapter from an artist who has given us five albums the last two years alone and continually finds new ways to keep the creative flow raging throughout the universe, the deepest, darkest regions that always have informed Asthâghul’s music.

“Atüs Liberüs (Black Realms of Prisymiush’tarlh)” is the 10:13-long opener, leaning in eerily as keys glow and strings pulsate, Asthâghul’s unmistakable cries wreaking havoc. The playing grows more propulsive, the vocals strangling as acoustics wash in, sounds bouncing and penetrating wounds, ending in a storm cloud hanging everlasting. “Turiälh (The Gloomy Wheel of Confusion)” is immersive, throaty howls doing damage, a cosmic wind shaking the trees. The playing turns blunt and then tornadic, gothy beams making everything blacker, strangeness surging into a new acoustic gasp. Beastly madness strikes as growls lumber, gurgles bubbling to an ominous close. “Dy’th Eternalhys (The Mortuary Renewal)” is the longest track, running 15:53 and stomping through time, mystical powers flowing into your blood. Synth darts have impact as grim wails choke with force, spiraling black metal increasing the impact, guitars chiming as chants paint the air. Coarse growls and jangling guitars mix, sending the energy into the skies.

“Lüthirkys Spasmuldis (Near Death Experience)” opens in acoustics, wild shrieks bending minds, a trancey vision taking hold. The vocals crush as sorrowful melodies create a sullen atmosphere, speed and ferocity uniting as lush strings flood, panicked screams disappearing into the shadows. “Zilthuryth (Void of Zeraphaël)” dawns with folkish strings, breezes causing your flesh to rise, drums tapping as if off the side of your skull. Wondrous playing fills your chest with emotion, acoustics building as the vocals gets nastier, chants swirling amid chambery sounds and spirits. “Murzaithas (Celestial Voices)” blends quiet guitars and singing echoing and swimming, digging in as the playing gets more vicious. The harshness multiplies, guitars soaring and stretching imaginations, a strange haze sinking into the developing drama, smoke choking lungs. Sounds rise as an explosion tears off doors, mashing and mangling, slowing fading away. Closer “Özhirialh (The Mystical Radiance of the Eternal Path)” runs 11:13, the singing mixing with metallic riffs, sounds crashing off walls. An easier glide makes it feel like serenity has arrived, but it’s not long until blood flows again, acoustics brushing as the singing turns savage. Strings gust as the drums mash, guitars light up and increase the temperature, and one last taste of viciousness ends everything in complete disorientation.

Asthâghul’s creative vision appears to know no bounds, and with the addition of acoustic instruments and other weapons, he manages to add new ghoulish energy to “Döth-Derniàlh.” Esoctrilihum is a project that certainly has demanded a lot of its audience but also has rewarded it with a flood of releases, each a step ahead from the ones before it, taking your mind and Asthâghul’s into new corners. This is another daring mission into metal’s sun, charring its edges and forging new pathways other artists fear to tread.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://metalodyssey.8merch.us/

Or here (Europe): https://metalodyssey.8merch.com/record-label/i-voidhanger-records/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.facebook.com/i.voidhanger.records/