Bands that have been around for very long periods of time tend to go through their fair share of changes within their ranks. Iron Maiden and Judas Priest had to change singers, for fuck sake. Swedish doom legends Katatonia have been down that road before, but the departure of founding guitarist Anders Nyström was pretty concerning.

The arrival of the band’s new record “Nightmares as Extensions of the Waking State,” their 13^th full-length, brings intrigue based on how things will proceed without one of their leaders and if it’s for the good. Nyström wanted to revisit the band’s earlier years and heavier sound while co-founder and vocalist Jonas Renkse preferred staying the course with the more shadowy, gothic sound. Nyström split and now we have this 10-track effort, and the results are not as I hoped. It feels like maybe Nyström had a point as these tracks lack punch and kind of just float through the ether. It’s not a bad album per se, and the rest of the band—guitarists Nico Elgstrand and Sebastian Svalland (both newcomers), bassist Niklas Sandin, and drummer Daniel Moilanen—sounds fine. It just doesn’t grab you. It feels more like dark background music than something that’s going to shake you awake. It’s gloomy, and not the good kind, and it lacks a spark. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that way about a Katatonia album, even the weirder ones. It feels unchallenging.

“Thrice” opens and punches before instantly pulling back, going gothy with strong singing from Renske, which is hardly a surprise. Guitars gush as things get a little burlier, Renske calling, “Let go of the confining shackles,” which sounds like a pretty telling line. “The Liquid Eye” drips in, clouding over the verses before a really strong chorus strikes, guitars glistening, slipping between the clouds. The singing is smooth as things get a little punchier, retreating and just sort of ending. “Wind of No Change” has the bass winding and the guitars crunching, the chorus sweeping, Renske singing, “Here comes our elder kin, appearing where we lay in sin, and answer to your names, and sing praise hail Satan.” Cool keys numb as the ashes rise, moving off into dusk. “Lilac” has an electro feel that meanders through the fog. Guitars slink and trudge, the chorus cutting, feeling catchy enough. Orchestral synth bathes with light, the sounds flushing, deliberately dissolving into the dirt. “Temporal” trickles in, hanging in the air, the singing numbing before the chorus swells. Guitars stain, bringing on strong soloing before the fires turn back to dark, the vocals pulling you back in before the light drains from the room.

“Departure Trails” slinks in, cold and dreary, chills making your body ache. Synth glides as dark dreams are conjured, the verses feeling like a sleepwalk through the fog, going in and out of clouds dropping ice. “Warden” has guitars liquifying and glazing, continuing the temp drop that has built from the songs previous to this one. Soft vocals mark the verses as the chorus gets a bit crunchier, showing some life as newer colors kick in, creating a final rush.  “The Light Which I Bleed” begins with liquifying guitars, gently falling words like a light drizzle, the chorus picking up and adding a little muscle. Dramatic synth dives like daggers, gothy gasps pushing blackness through your veins, eventually disintegrating into the dark. “Efter Solen” is a ballad sung in Swedish, and it translates to “after the sun.” It’s quiet and hazy, probably the most different style of song on the record. Gentle elegance unfurls, beats echoing, sounds helicoptering, belting as murmurs ricochet. Closer “In the Event of” brings back some much-needed crunch, keys glazing as delicate singing smears your wounds. A dreamy haze thickens, guitars stinging, the singing gushing as the foundations crumble, choking out all light and vision.

“Nightmares as Extensions of the Waking State” isn’t a bad album by any means, once the colder fall days are here this will hit harder. Katatonia certainly picked their path with this record, which is not unexpected. The record just doesn’t stand out. After a few listens, I don’t really remember much about it. That’s really rare for a Katatonia record. It feels too slow and dreary, too samey, kind of uninspired. Sticking to your guns is admirable, but if you’re running out of ammo, retooling for a new run probably is a good idea.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://napalmrecordsamerica.com/katatonia

Or here (Europe): https://napalmrecords.com/

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

Dreams are bizarre, a means for our brains to tell us stories and show strange imagery while we sleep. We don’t even remember more than a fraction of what we dream each night, but what we do sticks with us, like messages being sent from beyond that should get our attention. That time also can give us ideas and expand our thinking of what’s possible.

Gaahls WYRD, ever since its formation almost a decade ago, felt like one that didn’t seem to adhere to genre expectations, nor would it care to. Helmed by Kristian Espedal, known also as Gaahl, a longtime veteran of the black metal world who made an infamous mark with Gorgoroth, has directed this project through much different waters. The band’s second full-length “Braiding the Stories” lurches even further into murky terrain, still embracing black metal but also taking on stranger tributaries and solidifying their sound that feels filtered through dreams. The rest of the band—guitarist Ole Walaunet (Lust Kilman), bassist Andreas Salbu (Nekroman) and drummer Kevin Kvåle (Spektre)—surround Gaahl’s, uh, words and vocals with miasmal imagination, shadows that feel impenetrable, and some black metal flourishes that remind you their teeth remain dangerously sharp.  

“The Dream” is aptly titled as the opening intro cut is clean and trickling, Gaahl’s speaking bubbling underneath the surface, soothing and fading into the title track that opens adventurously. The music is energetic and flowing, speak-singing getting under the flesh, the playing luring and reflecting, Things turn colder as the guitars liquify, bending into a chilling eeriness that eventually bursts open with unexpected colors, the guitars lathering and soaring, giving off a hint of nostalgia. The singing numbs as the fires calm, guitars surfacing and blurring into “Voices in My Head,” another short one packed with fluid psychedelics, soft singing, disarming warbling, and strange synth zapping into the beyond. “Time and Timeless Timeline” is menacing, a black metal burst that feels like all the energy palmed into a fist. The singing strikes as the rhythmic qualities engage, rupturing and destroying. The playing mashes as deeper vocals blacken visions, the guitars slash with power, and a wild yelp puts an exclamation point at the end of this dark prowler. “And the Now” is murky and jangling, the singing prodding as the keys shimmer, wood blocks echoing, the playing gaining momentum. Keys strike as the guitars boil, chanting vocals haunt, and the drums taking on a tribal vibe, burning the essence in the dirt.

“Through the Veil” is another quick one, guitars lighting up the night sky, swimming as distant calls murmur under the surface, mixing its blood into “Visions and Time” that cuts in deeply, ominous chants sending chills up spines. The playing heats up and swirls, calming at times as the singing rises, sunburst guitars giving off a vintage afternoon feel. Gaahl’s singing goes deeper again, hypnotic sounds surrounding everything, bursting and encircling until it drags you to eternal darkness. “Root the Will” brings a steady riff assault, a boisterous attack, and the singing gliding as the momentum continues to build. The guitars glisten and then feel like lasers beaming from the distance, and then things turn slower and mesmerizing, vocals lurching as everything is driven into space. Closer “Flowing Starlight” is clean and hazy before sparks fly, the singing floods, and tricky, weird melodies cloud your brain. It feels like the body of this thing is going through an alien transformation, taking propulsive turns and even growing catchy in its own way. The playing continues to wash over as a synth clouds envelop, swallowing all points of light back into a deep dream state.

“Braiding the Stories” is another chapter from Gaahls WYRD that breaks the foundation of black metal and lets other influences and energies enter into its shattered tributaries to give it new life. It’s also easy to fall deeply into this immersive music that feels like parts of dreams your brain latches onto as you try to make sense of the visions. This is a record and band that’s impossible to label (even calling it black metal is a stretch) and one that perhaps is better off without those descriptors because it frees them and the listener to take a journey inside without and restrictions or inhibitions. 

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

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

Or here: https://shop.season-of-mist.com/list/gaahls-wyrd-braiding-the-stories

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

Despite all the negativity that has permeated our lives, especially here in the United States, it’s hard to remember sometimes that everything is cyclical. No one is on top or at the bottom forever, and when fortunes change, those who once held power might find themselves eating dirt. Or worse. Order to chaos.

Long-running Australian black metal force Austere can attest to this as they started their run with two albums in succession and then took a 13-year break where its members—Mitchell Keepin (guitars, bass, keyboards, vocals) and Tim Yatras (drums, keyboards, vocals)—could focus on other adventures. They returned in 2023, and each year since they have released a new full-length, the latest being “The Stillness of Dissolution.” Where the band left a void due to their absence, they’ve responded with an impressive clip of releases, and this might be their most adventurous. It’s black metal, it can be depressing, but it also glimmers with power, filling your veins with a new type of energy. It’s still morose, but it also shows a new level for the band, a creativity and inspiration that opens up the blackness. 

“Dissolved Exile” opens and is immediately active, a noticeable trait on this whole record. Howls mar as the leads glisten, charring as the electric pace grows mightier, cascading into an atmospheric wash. From there, the power surges, guitars give off a reflective sheen, and acoustics wash away. “Time Awry” enters amid furious growls, the pace taking off and giving energy, clean singing working in and numbing over pain spots. The playing bubbles and kicks into higher gear, growls crushing as the spaciousness expands, the drums opening up the earth’s crust. The pace then buckles, rippling and pushing its weight toward a thick, foggy ending. “Redolent Foulness” is flush with oxygen, punchy in spots, the clean calls warming over chilled flesh. The playing gets fiery as screams lash away, the guitars adding a sense of sun splash, jolting as the melodies strengthen. The push and pull jars you as the forces grow even stronger, guitars letting out a final gasp that sits in ash.

“The Downfall” has guitars lighting up, the singing hanging overheard, and then howls snarling with viciousness even as the atmosphere growls more inviting. Dreamier singing alters the mood before shrieks destroy, the playing floods, and an overhead storm batters for good measure. “Rusted Veins” has guitars trudging and your mind expanding, feeling a bit like Agalloch’s woodsy dramatics. The playing is aggressive even with melodies lighting the edges, howls ripping back flesh, only to be countered by singing glazing over the mania. Guitars swarm and things remain heavy and punishing, relentlessly shaving your bones and muscles as it burns off its final drops of fuel. Closer “Storm Within My Heart” has guitars stinging and gushing, sweeping as the growls mar, ravaging and going for the throat. The playing scuffs and explodes with color, temporarily pulling back before everything blows open again, howls wrenching your congealing wounds. Dynamic dashes fly as the guitars crush and cascade, going cold as the final notes fade into the sky.

“The Stillness of Dissolution” adds a new wrinkle in Austere’s formula, pouring even more black metal elements yet also further melody, making this one of the brighter records in their arsenal. Make no mistake, this thing remains grim and blistering, only with some cooler air injected to give your burning lungs a chance to breathe fresh. The darkness is thick here, and the themes of life giving way to demise shadows your heart while blood is racing through your veins over this dynamic creation.   

For more on the band, go here: https://austere-official.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://lnk.spkr.media/austere-dissolution

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

Hearing people take an artform, defy the preordained rules, and form it into their own liking  can lead to a disaster. Or, said defiance causes an expansion of sounds, a melting of ideas and influences, and a fresh perspective on already existing energies. There are millions of bands that embrace the conventional, and that’s fine, but going the other way is fun too.

Minneapolis black metal force Eudaemon pulverize their chosen base and dash different colors and vicious expression on top of that. Their debut album “Spiritual Anguish” is a rush of all kinds of ideas, and while it’s manic and dizzying at times, it also pushes new buttons and sounds like it originated from a bleeding heart. The band—guitarist/vocalist Andie Landsem, guitarist/vocalist Ella Smith, bassist Meridian Shanewood, drummer Peter Korhonen—bends black metal in different directions. They’re not rewriting history or anything, but they add excitement, raw emotion, and even some softer, more pulled-back moments that help each sound dynamic stab you in the ribs. Also, the record is being handled by two awesome labels, Fiadh Productions and Riff Merchant, whose catalogs are well worth your time.

“Karst” starts mystically and steamy before howls carve, and some speed is injected into the swelling pace. A melodic fury explodes as the guitars open and melt, and then the pace lulls purposely, the storms holding overhead, and then shrieks rip and tear for a manic finish. “Possession Audition” begins with a quote from the 1981 film “Possession,” and from there the piece rips and jangles, the screams paste, and a splattering, crazed pace leaves your eyes rolling in the back of your head. “Empty Hallways” starts with guitars dripping before the pace ignites, storming and gutting, clean singing changing your mindset before the vitriol rampages again. There are moments that feel breezy, even as your head is being ripped off your neck. The bass ripples, and the last moments are burning and buzzing.

“Basalt” has more of a post-rock sheen at it starts, clean singing icing wounds, and then terrifying shrieks opening them back up again. The playing blisters as the screams melt flesh, the guitars cascade like a waterfall over a cliffside, and then things go cold, but only temporarily. The playing trudges back, screams buckle your knees, and the speed rushes through a brick wall. “Silt” feels progressive and active, wild yells sending chills, guitars bubbling before the shrieks rise to the surface. The drums rattle as the band gives off some jazzy flourishes that change the scenery, and glimmering guitars signal a change to the more volcanic, pushing hard over the finish line. Closer “In Mirrors” runs 12:08, and it starts elegantly and dreamily, hearty singing digging into your heart, guitars angling as the shrieks ripple down your spine. The brutality steamrolls as the intensity spikes, screams maim, and the bass flexes its ample muscles. Hypnotic turns tease your mind as melodies rumble, howls punch holes, and a battering, manic display turns the screws, laying waste before melting away.

“Spiritual Anguish” is a record that leaves an indelible mark, scrambling your mind with so many metallic angles coming at you at once, the ability to absorb all of that forcefully challenged. This is emotional tumult that Eudaemon commit to this record, a mind-melting barrage that also teases you with other dashes of influence that scramble what you know about heavy music. This feels like a bloodletting, one to which you can connect to shed your own scars. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://riffmerchant.bandcamp.com/album/spiritual-anguish

Or here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/album/spiritual-anguish

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

And here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/