This week of nasty, horrific displays just rambles on as we now have the idea of bodies piled to the sky, the stench choking out everything under the sun. Not that we ever expected death metal to let us down easily, but when it piles on with unthinkable horrors and hellish intentions, it just feels deadlier.

Canadian beasts Prophetic Suffering deliver terrifying doses of the filthiest and most depraved death possible on “Rivalry of Thyself,” their first full-length creation. It’s dastardly, mangling, and blood infested, death metal that’s intertwined with black metal that drips with disgusting power and force, trying to turn your stomach. Over eight tracks and 25 minutes, it takes no time for the band—vocalist/guitarist D.H., guitarist T.G., bassist C.E., drummer M.M.—to bring devastation that sounds like it’s hinting toward a smothering end times. Their stew of extreme metal’s most dangerous forms make this feel like an even more harrowing experience, threatening to pile you on that corpse tower.

“Holy Death, Sacred Rot” opens already fully warped, taking its time to set up its miasmal surroundings and then digging in the knife. This is terrorizing and bludgeoning, a description that applies to every second of this thing, and hulking terror squeezes out of every corner, goring and scorching before a bizarre finish. “Foul” is a quick one filled with utter destruction and ferocious growls strangling, momentum building to a crazed, belching end. “Refuge in Libations” attacks as howls snarl, and a gutting pace easily has its way with you. Growls sicken as the playing spirals, heading up a total death assault that grinds the earth and ends in pastoral chants. “Empire of Filth” is channeled with riffs stomping, sinewy playing stretching muscle, and inhuman wails cutting off your capacity to deal mentally. The madness drives to a halt, but that’s temporary as the reignition quakes the ground, rattling loose screws in your skulls that smash against your struggling brain.

“Easy Prey (Weakness Defined)” erupts with growls corroding and a fury that is overwhelming to say the least. Burly howls do ample damage as a storm of chaos dusts up and suffocates, bells chiming and giving off the stench of Armageddon. “Gift of Decay” is a total onslaught with gross vocals, a demonic terror, and a ripping conclusion that unloads your guts before you know what hit you. The title cut blasts through like a tornado already filled to the top with shrapnel and who knows what else? The pace spatters and consumes, blazing with fully engulfed guitars and a final gust that loosens ribs. Closer “Oppressor Beheaded” is a blinding attack with engorged growls, fires rampaging, and the guitar work charring easily. The playing can be disorienting, bruising and landing blows from every angle, melting into static before taking its rightful place in hell.

Prophetic Suffering have no qualms about lathering the listen with blood and refuse on their first full-length “Rivalry of Thyself,” a record that maximizes its time by delivering punishment that wrecks psyches. Death metal wasn’t originally intended to be a place of solace or peace, and this band ensures you find none of that here. This is the first full glimpse of a band bathed in complete bloodshed aiming to bring your misery levels up to theirs, which is practically torturous.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://sentientruin.com/releases/prophetic-suffering-rivalry-of-thyself

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

Apocalyptic visions are becoming more commonplace, likely because even if we don’t have an imminent comeuppance, we seem keep getting closer every day until the end. Fun times! But the planet is suffering, our society is collapsing, and an oligarchy practically has its fingers in our collective mouths. So yeah. The end.

Namebearer’s new EP “Industries of the Fading Sun” pushes that destruction to the forefront. The title sounds like a dream of burning skies, while the foreboding cover art also makes it feel like you’re finally losing it completely. This five-track, 28-and-a-half-minutes of darkness comes to you from guitarist/bassist/vocalist Brian Tenison (this band originally was his solo project) and drummer/synth player/vocalist Brendan Hayter, both members of Obsidian Tongue. They mix black metal with some unexpected melody turns, baking synth, and a variation of vocal approaches. Yeah, it’s brutal, and its subject matter should make that clear, but it’s not wall-to-wall aggression, and the EP is better for it.

The title track opens and bludgeons right away, howls sizzling amid spoken lines that try to ice your brain wiring. Clean singing bellows as the moodiness expands, shrieks returning and slicing under the skin, harshness expanding rapidly, ending with a final hammering. “Black Vein, Atom Drum” has screams whipping at you, darkness hanging overheard as clean singing sends morose notes, haze and melody combining and clouding vision. The playing encircles as furious howls take over, the more gentler vocals haunting, everything coming to a jarring end. “Jäätyneen Järven Uumenissa” starts in an insane pace, smoking as the shrieks slash, blasting through strangeness and drama. The playing swirls tornadically, buzzing as the speaking echoes through your brain, a synth blaze illuminating the ending. “Lumivyöry” smears with aggressive vocals, swelling clean calls slipping underneath, the playing battering with force. The pathway heads into deep murk, gazey guitars letting beams crash through fog, the guitars gathering momentum and blurring, the energy bursting before keys end things in a dreamy, morbid fashion. “Crystals Distill to New Earth” is a brief instrumental outro, sitting under glimmering synth and a hypnotic force that gradually blurs away.

The apocalyptic visions locked into “Industries of the Fading Sun” are pretty spot on right now, when misery and fear are reaching an apex. Namebearer’s members do a great job merging black metal with more ethereal colors, making this something that feels devastating musically but also kind of dream-inducing. This is a project that holds a lot of promise and offers something a little different than just wall-to-wall carnage, and where their dark ambitions go from here is anyone’s guess.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://namebearer.bandcamp.com/album/industries-of-the-fading-sun

Violence is in our blood, in our soil, in our history books, and it’s something we’ve long romanticized in our music, literature, and film. Violence is something religions used to show dominance over others’ faiths, and it’s something woven into so many of our various sports leagues. We are violent people. We’ll die violent people.

Longtime doom battering ram Conan are as fitting as any band to take on the aforementioned theme, and it’s splattered all over their new album “Violence Dimension.” On this, their seventh record, they smear their bludgeoning energy over these seven (or eight depending which version you have) tracks that are weighty and hammering. The band—vocalist/guitarist Jon Davis, bassist David Ryley (formerly of goddamn Fudge Tunnel), drummer Johnny King—doesn’t change a whole lot from their previous concoctions, but they deliver everything with mauling force that never relents. This is a Cona record through and through, and it’s a motherfucker.

“Foeman’s Flesh” opens with chugging guitars and a bruising pace, Davis’ unmistakable howl stretching out over eons. The playing scorches while a rechanneled path pummels you, barbarian-like blows blasting air from lungs, Davis howling, “Time will kill!” as the drubbing heaviness smears, scorches, and spirals out. “Desolation Hexx” is burly as expected, Davis wailing, “I want nothing but death,” as guitars jab and the playing mangles. More punches find their mark as the playing speeds up, adding to the rumbling, stomping hard as feedback fries. “Total Bicep” is the song title of the year, and it flattens, howls strangling as a clobbering force makes its way across the earth. Guitar smoke chokes, melting in psyche chaos, lathering as noise spits back, guitars bubbling over the surface, and every note slowly fading away. The title track prods as guitars rise, slowly forming around fuzzy carnage, going calm, strangely, before heading further into the darkness. Guitars burst as the bass slithers, a trucking dose of animosity festering as Davis barks forcefully, everything coming to a meaty, sinewy end.

“Frozen Edges of the Wound” blasts with Davis declaring, “The age of violence is here!” as the playing lays utter waste. “No defeat, no remorse,” Davis levels as a hulking, smashing attack takes over, pulverizing to a finish. “Warpsword” is an atypically short one, clocking in at just 45 seconds and completely going for broke. Noise, guitars, and vicious howls combine for a track that stomps your guts into the ground without mercy. “Ocean of Boiling Skin” runs 10:03 and leads in with the guitars teasing, the pace flattening, and Davis’ wails bruising ribs. Riffs lap at the tempo beats you down, folding into weird cosmic winds, washing into eeriness as the drums explore the stratosphere. The punishment returns before too long, powdering skulls, soaring through the air, and spilling into a calculated thrashing that takes no prisoners. “Vortexxion” is a bonus track on some versions of the album, and it’s a total drone flood, filling the senses with slow, lumbering trauma, the overlapping into a black void, a cosmically menacing piece that dominates for 12 minutes.

“Violence Dimension” is a perfect title for the era in which we’re locked, one that’s only going to get bloodier and more indefensible as time goes on. Conan’s might is at its apex here as they ravage over nearly an hour with the hulking doom that has become their calling card and that they do better than anyone else. This record is heavy both in volume and weight, a not-so-subtle reminder we are living in an age of bloodshed that might warp us as people forever.

For more on the band, go here: https://conan-conan.bandcamp.com/music

To buy the album, go here: https://www.heavypsychsounds.com/shop.htm#HPS341

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

Apocalyptic visions are something that might not be just be for science fiction novels anymore. How shocked would you be tomorrow if you saw fire breathing across the sky, the entire earth burning, and total annihilation at hand? OK, look, you’d be a little shocked, but when you got your grip, you’d realize this isn’t that surprising.

I thought about that on my numerous visits with “Reign Destroyer,” the debut EP from Samiarus, a black and death metal machine that feels like it’s ushering in the end. On this punishingly heavy seven-track effort, the band—vocalist M.A., guitarists J.L. and S.R., bassist G.D., drummer J.M.—unleashes complete battery, feeling like a grinding machine moving toward you as an act of war. The music would be fitting playing in your mind as the sky melts onto the earth and planet is scorched for good. By the way, while a new band, its members bring experience from extreme acts such as Doomsday, Atrament, Slaughteruin and Abstracter, themselves rather devastating forces.

“Praesagium (Intro)” starts with noise enclosing, strange synth, and voices swirling in a miasma, leading into “New Iron Age” that starts with drums obliterating and a mauling pace swallowing you whole. Animalistic howls and a bulldozing grind unite and quake the ground, infernal heat making breathing unmanageable. Guitars go off as burly hell is achieved, smearing gaping mouths in soot. “Torment’s Spear” crushes outright, the playing drilling heavily, thick guitars landing in burning sheets. Growls choke as the force lays waste, amplifying pressure before mercy finally comes. “Eradicating Wind” bathes in feedback as a bludgeoning power front barrels in, menacing fury defacing, the leads charring as the growls punish. The band then completely destroys, ashes accumulating, the guitars blackening the sun. “Throne Devoured” has riffs firing, howls warping, and the tempo bruising. It feels like being locked in an unforgiving storm with nowhere to reach for help, shrapnel and debris turning into killing tools. “Crushed by Inferior” carves in with cagey guitars, a suffocating assault, and a maniacal pace that leaves prone bodies flattened. The snarling vocals devastate as utter brutality stomps toward you, melting out with utter carnage. “Exitium (Outro)” is a blaze of horrific noise, a nightmarish level that makes your brain feel like it’s under extreme duress, your mind crashing into total darkness.

Samiarus bring utter annihilation on “Reign Destroyer,” an EP that, despite its shorter run time, makes you feel like you’ve been in a goddamn fight. The fiery, hellish approach to black and death metal is unforgiving, a display that feels like it purposely is here to add insult to injury. This is a monster, a sign of the black storms coming for us when they put together a full-length and a glimpse into a deadly machine that’s just getting started.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://sentientruin.com/releases/samiarus-reign-destroyer

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

A decade ago feels like an entirely different life and reality. I don’t need to recount all of the madness that has spread about the earth, and so many of us have suffered great losses and watched numerous tragedies. I remember driving to Wisconsin in 2014 for Gilead Media Fest, and I’m glad that person doesn’t know the hell ahead.

UK black metal power Ahamkara know the personal suffering and pain all too well. The band last issued a record in 2014, the fascinating “The Embers of the Stars.” A year later, vocalist Steve Black died, and guitarist Michael Blenkarn understandably put the band on the shelf. Slowly, through connecting with his wife/synth player Alexandra Blenkarn-Durning and friend and drummer Austin Lunn (Panopiticon), Ahamkara came back to life, and they’re back with their second album “The Harrow of the Lost,” a four-track, 43-minute excursion into examining grief, dealing with a volatile world, and withstanding darkness. The spirit is the same but understandably a bit different, Blenkarn taking over for Black on vocals.

“The Circle of Remembrance” starts with the guitars trickling before the power bursts, glorious melodies flooding, Blenkarn’s inhumane shrieks scarring. The playing batters as the leads gain warmth as they explore mentally, the emotive gasps making your lungs pump oxygen. The color rushes into clean passages, the temps slowly rising, exploding once more as the howls ripple and fade. “Our Scars Shall Abide in the Thaw” begins elegantly, the playing feeling folkish and adventurous, the energy exploding as the shrieks scour during a tornadic blast. The drums blast as melodies torpedo, screams buckling as the guitars come to fuller life, things suddenly halting as water flows. The breath is a brief one as the playing crests, synth waves bathe with psyche energy, everything ending in a perfect state for meditation.

“Channelling Grief” is punchy as it starts, guitars swimming amid the murk, a progressive feel taking over and adding more waves of creativity. The shrieks seethe and scorch, wrenching melodies making muscles feel worn for wear, a speedy and electric environment pushing into desperation. The bass chugs as the guitars race, the vocals strangling, the pressure rising again and unleashing a fury that’s amplified by the drums ravaging over a spirited end. “Ordeal of Ascension” closes the record, pummeling right away as Blenkarn’s screams destroy, the melodies charging as an emotional caterwaul overwhelms. Prog energy returns as the howls menace, guitars cascade, and a hazy cloud cover darkens the ground. The playing whips into a final frenzy, riveting with immersive glory, the synth coating with chill, the winds whipping and freezing over.

Ahamkara’s return from the darkness is a welcome one, and while their absence might have been lengthy, they haven’t lost an ounce of their strength. It’s a much different world than it was 11 years ago when they arrived with their debut, including massive tumult and heartbreak in Blenkarn’s life. “The Harrow of the Lost” is a triumphant return, one that weaves through the darkness and murk, the vibrancy of atmospheric black metal, and into our blackened hearts to find the places where we hurt equally.

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

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

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

What better time to bask in darkness, to snuff out the daylight and exist in the shadows where our sorrows exist and where some of us actually find a semblance of solace not having to face reality for a while? At the same time, having music that also can beckon and even soothe our wounds can be a game changer, knowing we’re not alone in the abyss.

The return of Vancouver’s orchestral doom power Tribunal is a fitting one, even at the gates of spring and new life. Their excellent second record “In Penitence and Ruin” is a tour-de-force, an example of a promising band blooming into full beast and exploding from every seam with gothic majesty. This time around, Tribunal are a full unit with original members Soren Mourne (vocals, bass, cello) and Etienne Flinn (vocals, guitar) joined by guitarist Jessica Yang, keyboard player Dallas Alice, and drummer Julia Geaman to form a mightier fist. This record is a concept piece that follows a guilty human who cannot escape the wrong they’ve done and must psychologically weigh the realities of punishment. The music is heavy, doomy, arresting, and gorgeous, a piece that grows more infectious with each listen. My vinyl copy arrived today, and it hasn’t left the turntable in my office all day. I imagine that won’t change for a while.

“Incarnadine” starts with elegant strings and Mourne’s calling, “I am drowning in tides of guilt,” before Flinn’s shrieks join and bloody faces. The singing and harsh wails intertwine here, as they do often throughout this record, and gothy fury is unleashed, the playing spreading and grows more dramatic, and massive emotion welling as the playing fades. “A Wound Unhealing” starts similarly, Mourne’s voice gripping you fully before the guttural vocals set in, a spellbinding display that arrests you heart and mind. “Heal these wounds that time forgot,” Mourne pleads, the guitars electrifying their surroundings, and mournful playing mounts fierce defiance, the strings thickening and slipping into the darkness. “Angel of Mercy” pounds as the growls corrode, the strings elevate the tension, and colors manifest as the hammers strike. The atmosphere thickens as the singing grips and the growls curdle, heading off into a sweetening mist. “The Sword of the Slain” starts with Flinn’s voice sending bruising waves as Mourne smooths the pathway, guitars swim, and the tempo picks up. The doomy waters pound the shore, growls snarling as the temperatures rise, immersive tributaries leading you to a breath-robbing finish. “Ruin” is a brief, chamber-rich instrumental built with solemn strings and keys, the perfect breather at the halfway point.

“The Penitent” slowly forms, Mourne’s singing awakening as she reaches for the stars, guitars meandering into an ashen aura, growls settling sharply. Leads heat up and melt, Mourne demanding, “Bite my hand and curse my name,” as everything burns off. “Armoured in Shadow” has guitars beaming, the dual vocals pushing and pulling through the cold, Mourne calling, “I will never trust again, I will never heal,” a sentiment that returns throughout. Growls lather as the daylight retreats, ending everything in grim fashion. “…And The Thorn-Choked Flowers Grow” starts with growls gutting, a vicious darkness enveloping, and Morne following up and adding a sense of gothic beauty to the sorrow. The vocals duel from here, a morose, yet melodic pathway beaten out in front of you, ashes burnt into each step. Closer “Between the Sea and Stars” has drums awakening, strings and keys glimmering, Mourne calling, “The distance cannot make this right,” a sentiment you feel in your bones. Howls scar as the guitars are submerged in tears, a flushing feel working into tornadic visions, strings aching as they gently fade.

“In Penitence and Ruin” is Tribunal at their fullest force, at least so far, and it’s bound to be their breakthrough record based on its power and depth. Having a full lineup surely gives the music more depth and personality, and its heaviness and arresting beauty makes these songs hit even harder, the record staying with you long after it ends. This is a grander scale and vision for Tribunal, and this record is likely to cement them into a spot as one of doom’s most promising newer voices that you cannot ignore.

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

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

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

There are no hard and fast rules that a style of music must evolve or else. In fact, there are no actual rules, which makes it so weird that so many have been established, even if unofficially. So, black metal didn’t need to change and it would have been just fine. But the fact that it did makes it that much more likely to survive into whatever future we have left.

European conglomerate Silver Knife, hitting us back with album two, a self-titled affair, is one of those bands that decided that working past the implicit boundaries is where their passion truly lies. Yes, they maintain a black metal structure and always have. But the amount of melody and effusive passion they build into the music takes it away from merely brutal and sends it into endless dreamscapes. OK, so they’re not the first to do that. But the way the band—its mysterious members go by D., H., M., N., and P., and their duties are not known—expresses their chaos can fill you with energy and vigor, and the way the world is headed, we all can use something to get us going again. 

“Silver” gushes open, energetic and melodic, a force the band somehow manages to maintain pretty much through the entire record. Shrieks soar as the pace begins to slow a bit, letting the waters rise and threaten to break, which they do with ample force. The playing cascades as wrenching fury combusts, the guitars lathering to a raucous end. “Restless Blight” opens with drums ripping, fluid guitars splintering, shrieks rampaging through a fiery burst. Chaos echoes as new textures are added to the mix, a rushing and gazey attack that lets the growls choke and the tempo spike. “Techne” slips in with the bass curling, shrieks spitting nails, and strange speaking pulling you into a frigid gasp. The thrashing chugs as shrill screams peel back flesh, melodic fire breathing dangerously, and the carnage spilling into a sudden dream state that chills wounds before fading away.

“Transfiguration” is driving and catchy, a riff storm that brings a spirited spike, going full bore into a cooling atmospheric front. The barometric pressure continues to swell as the playing hammers even harder, washing over everything like a rising tide, a furious jolt carrying to the end. “Reticent Paroxysm” plasters, howls pushing, trampling over everything with abandon, an effusive stretch making your adrenaline spike. Screams gut as the playing gets mightier and more intense, washing away with bones. Closer “Triumph in Tragedy” runs 12:48 and fires up right away, throaty howls sinking in their teeth, a thunderous approach making it impossible to keep your balance as you withstand the attack. Guitars scuff as an immersive, calming section spreads out, working through pockets of darkness before a catastrophic gust. Screams batter as the melodies get more forceful, the emotional tumult blazes, and everything comes to a final rest in a fog halo.

Silver Knife’s second LP aptly is self-titled, because it feels like the band’s personality truly shines through on these six songs. This very much feels like it properly embodies the band and its mission, and as we navigate incredibly turbulent times, this record can serve as a sort of wick lighter, something to get underneath you and carry you over the madness. It’s impossible to absorb this record and not have it infect every cell, giving you something to soothe your own darkness as seek a safe place to land.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.amor-fati-productions.de/en/

Or here (North America): https://entropicrecordings.bandcamp.com/

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

Many of us are fixated with the end, whatever that may be, for humankind. It’s not terribly far-fetched to think we might be living in the final generations of humans as people actively work against the environment and tip the scales of equality to a point that will become unlivable for people in an increasingly hostile society. Maybe the end won’t be so bad.

Lhaäd is a project helmed by Lykormas that, also, appears to be at its end. With the arrival of third full-length “Beyond,” the trilogy that began with 2021’s “Below” and continued into last year’s “Beneath,” could be over, according to its creator. Or at least for the foreseeable future. So, it’s not surprising that this potentially final record lets loose all the heaviness and spaciousness, pounding with energy and precision, delving into a mysterious future that provides no answers, and at this point, no security either. Lykormas maintains the project’s deep ties to the depths of the ocean, and it feels like you’re miles under the surface, mingling with horrifying creatures one cannot imagine.

“I” begins with water bubbling, as if you’re already deeply submerged, and then the guitars surface, erupting and daring you to alter your attention. Roars wrench as the leads torpedo, rich melodies growing stronger and steadier. Shrieks shred as a spiraling, diving tempo flexes, the spirit again sinking beneath the dark depths. “II” is ominous, howls carving pathways, the charring melodies feeling like a storm is brewing overhead, melodies flooding as hypnosis takes over. Savage wails erupt as the speed becomes a greater factor, desperation overcoming the senses as the force tightens its grip, dissolving into weird sound pulses. “III” is a force from the start, synth beams cutting through the rage, driving as it builds to a towering wall of ice. Speaking slips through the clouds as strange melodies overwhelm, the colors darting to the surface, and everything comes to a battering end. 

“IV” comes crashing down, the growls engorging, only to be following by sharp shrieks and melodic guitars tidal waving. Sounds collect as the noise gusts, gurgling sounds feeling like they’re taking on water, signals ricocheting deep beneath the surface, looking for signs of life. “V” has guitars rupturing, crushing as the playing pounds away, speaking creaking as the signals return and echo off inanimate objects. Howls trudge as the force ravages, black metal-style darkness pouring like barrels of ink into the sea, twisting as it thrashes away. Closer “VI” races hard, majestic power stretching as howls crush and punish, the energy leading to an explosion of strange vives. Whispers spread and are joined by speaking, guitars explode as the growls grasp for flesh, and a tingling ambiance surrounds. It’s total disorientation from here, howls smearing, fires crackling, and everything escaping under the waves as the call of, “There’s nothing beyond this world but fire,” fading soberly.

If “Beyond” truly is the end of Lhaäd, it’s a fitting ending not only to this project’s journey but for this trilogy that has enthralled us the last half decade. This last installment ties together nicely with the two records that preceded it but also leaves a rather bleak assessment of future if the final line of the record is to be believed. It’s been a harrowing, immersive journey with Lhaäd, and if the band never rises again, we have these pieces in which to bask until we also end up in whatever world awaits us from here.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.amor-fati-productions.de/en/

Or here (North America): https://entropicrecordings.bandcamp.com/

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

Bands are not required by law to adhere to the same formula their entire careers. Yeah, fans will bitch that the sounds have charged or aren’t exactly the same on every record or all of that, but staying a course when one’s heart isn’t in it peels back the genuine nature of their art. Plus, making changes can invigorate a band for the better.

Doom road warriors Blackwater Holylight have delivered three strong full-lengths (the last one being 2021’s great “Silence/Motion”) and scuffed-up power, but on their new EP “If You Only Knew,” they show an entirely different side, one that’s a little poppier and flush with different colors from what we’ve seen and heard before. The band—singer/guitarist/bassist Sunny Faris, keyboard player Sarah McKenna, guitarist Mikayla Mayhew, drummer Eliese Dorsay—sounds transformed, maintaining their ties to doom but adding more shoegaze and psychedelic elements to a formula that already was pretty strong. It took a few visits to fully wrap my head around this EP, but the effort is worth it as the music really works.

“Wandering Lost” blossoms with keys spreading, Faris’ breezy singing floating over, as noted a pretty stark departure from the band’s normal sound. Guitars darken as the pace toughens, eventually ripping open and letting more explosive elements roam. The leads get fuzzier and heated, the keys wash over like a medicine drip, and everything fades into sound. “Torn Reckless” opens with neon synth and a bouncier, gazier path forward, a smooth chorus making for easier sailing. The verses are a little more atmospheric than the choruses, which pull you back into the rock pile. A pillowy sheen hugs while the guitars float in clouds, all basking in the feedback. “Fate Is Forward” is foggy with guitars drizzling, Faris’ softer singing prodding, the pace eventually opening wider, synth luring you on a road to the chorus. Shades brighten as keys glow and the vocals lightly scathe, the guitars smearing before draining away. Closer “All I Need,” a cover of the Radiohead song, has guitars hanging in the air, drums tracing, and higher-register singing, giving off a cool nighttime vibe. The keys emerge and soothe, and the pace begins to pick up, the guitars coating, a cool rush icing flesh, and everything looping out into oblivion.

“If You Only Knew” shows a completely different side of Blackwater Holylight, but it keeps intact their penchant for doom and darkness, served with a breath of cooler, cleaner air. Not sure if this is the new direction for this band or if this is more of an experiment, but this works for them, and if they folded this style with their edgier work, they might have something here. This is a sleek change of pace for this band, once that adds to their already powerful repertoire. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://store.suicidesqueeze.net/

For more on the label, go here: https://suicidesqueeze.net/

In baseball, there are several rounds of minor leagues that players go through as they make their way to the majors. And not everyone makes it. A lot do not. Even prized prospects, first-round picks, and more fall by the wayside because they don’t have what it takes to get there. Others rocket through the system to stardom, though that’s rare.

I don’t want to necessarily suggest Italian doom dreamers Messa were not ready for the major leagues before their excellent new record “The Spin,” their fourth. They were always ready, from their 2016 debut “Belfry” right up to 2022’s “Close.” They always proved they had what it takes, creating emotionally ripe, smoking power that they dubbed “scarlet doom.”  But “The Spin” is their first for the legendary Metal Blade, and this move up to wider recognition is something long deserved by the band—vocalist Sara, guitarist/bassist Marco, guitarist Alberto, drummer Rocco. Here, they deliver a record that maintains their might but also trims down the run time on many of the tracks, with only two going past eight minutes. They refined and stripped back their approach while also adding a hefty serving of ’80s-style goth rock to their mix that works perfectly. This record took me a few listens to get used to the surroundings, but now that I’ve been through it many times, it might be my favorite of theirs so far. And if it gets the right push, it should make Messa a household name for underground heshers. 

“Void Meridian” starts with unexpected synth pulses (you won’t be shocked for long), and Sara lets loose her spellbinding voice. “All the bones you can find at crossroads, the ones that push you down, can you hear the call in the distance? How far can you go now?” she wails, the guitars blazing with color, the chorus flushing back and zapping away. “At Races” opens with surging guitars and plunging verses, Sara calling, “Waiting for me to run.” The playing chills a bit, but the chorus sweeps over everything, Sara singing, “Every stare weighs on my saddle bags,” their icy daggers heading into a foggy jolt. The guitars take off, the vocals simmer, and the chorus punches back, the energy entering into the dark. “Fire on the Roof” has the synth driving, excitedly so, making it feel like you’re tunneling back into ’80s chill. The neon beams blast into a driving tempo, the vocals rippling muscles, a great chorus setting your heart on fire. The guitars activate and engulf everything, the playing incinerating your heart to a crisp. “Immolation” basks in calling keys, Sara taking on a higher register, wailing on the chorus, “It is like a beautiful weight on my heart, please run away, please.” Guitars spill over and overcome with emotion, eventually turning to a mournful slide, the fires burning out on of the band’s finest tracks.

“The Dress” runs 8:15, one of the two tracks here with longer run times. The playing slowly flows and the synth glimmers, Sara singing, “I’m trapped inside a nice velvet, blue dress, don’t even love myself anymore.” The chorus then ruptures through the earth, Sara calling, “All my monsters, ready to feed!” Horns slip in, a jazzy ambiance encircling, and then the guitars increase the intensity, and Sara belts, “Coming over, eating my heart,” almost like a dare. “Reveal” dawns with swampy slide guitars, feeling like it’s coming from the Delta, and then things pick up as the electricity swaggers, and the drums come alive, spattering. “The end, the end is hell,” Sara levels, the guitars tearing flesh from bone, smoking and buzzing, disintegrating into fumes. “Thicker Blood” closes, a 8:45-minute saga that enters in a magical, cosmic synth storm, Sara’s sultry singing stinging with, “Decapitated sun on this forest bed, dismay’s returning so clear and so bright.” The tempo continues to increase, guitars flooding with emotion, Sara wailing, “Mother hear me, I’ll go further, I’m so ready to be my fate.” Gritty guitars segue into shivering chill, the sounds tingle and drive, and then one final feral scream lashes red as everything fades away.

Messa deliver a trim, channeled record with “The Spin,” an album that can lure in a much wider audience with a strong new label and a sound that remains true. They are mesmerizing and smoking, blending their style of “scarlet doom” into another enrapturing collection that just gets better the more you hear it. The band put its best foot forward on this record, and every moment of this is powered with a magic from beyond.

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

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

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