We’ve never not been in an age conformity, but now there is a government that is trying to make it law, so this is a little more extreme than what we’re used to enduring. There’s something to be said about taking you own path and not worrying what everyone else is doing. Individuality beats groupthink any day.

Emilio Rizzo had that in mind when creating “Resistant Spirit,” the new record from his Fuzznaut project. Over the course of seven years of existence, Fuzznaut created desert-like doom drone that permeates the senses and makes you see things in your head while you’re listening. The compositions here easily could be a major portion of a full-band production—any of his music could—but he uses his spirit and creativity alone over these eight tracks, turning them into their own beings that don’t need all the other elements to survive and thrive. It’s most infectious after sundown, perhaps after a drag, you know?

“Intro” brings glazing guitars, a spoken sample crackling, swimming in your brain and leading into the title track that feels properly dusty and desert dry to start. The aura gets ominous, psychedelic sentiment traveling your bloodstream, gathering and rising in spacey tension, total darkness swallowing stars. “Spacerock” is whirry and weird, guitars simmering into a gaseous cloud before a chugging pace mars your vision like smoke from burning tires. The dark fuzz grows thicker, sounds erode, and everything turns to the dirt as it fades. “Sufferlove” has a similar tone as what preceded it, acting as a nice stitch, guitars engulfing before the playing scrapes harder, working into downward spirals. Psyche shimmers blind as reflective silver shades illuminate, the playing toughening and merging with the sky, adding grey smears to the bright blue.

“Earbleeder” has riffs churning, the playing moving into shadows, doomy buzz overtaking the atmosphere. Numbing melodies emerge, Sabbathy riffs take the reins, and the back end of the track slips into hypnosis. “Defiant Prayer” hangs in echo, steely riffs reverberating, digging into morbid tones that make the surrounding air noticeably colder. Fuzz collects and the guitars brighten, paving an uneasy ambiance, the noise pounding away before dissolving into mystery. “Wind Doula” keeps the pressure on, guitars vibrating as rich playing pours sunshine into an already heated desert. You feel like you’re being baked, the Earth-like strains making you feel lightheaded, energy rippling out of that and shooting jolts of electricity. Closer “BRKN” is oddly reflective, even more than what preceded it, reverb simmering, the heat continuing to extend its grasp. Melody sticks as the mood grows spacier, guitars murmur, and the void envelopes faster than your brain has a chance to react.

Rizzo makes a lot out of minimalist parts on “Resistant Spirit,” a trait he has brought to all Fuzznaut creations. His plight to remain an individual in a sea of conformity shows he’s coming out on top, as this album easily could have plenty of other parts added to match the terrain, but it works gloriously as is. Bare bones, but not bare thoughts, less weight but more meaning, and another creation that can either ignite your fire or let it settle, depending on what your poor brain needs. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://fuzznaut.bandcamp.com/album/resistant-spirit

I made a comment on a pro wrestling social media site today, and the reaction I got was a bunch of boot-licking ass kissers who think their macho online presence makes up for brazenly excusing some of the worst human rights abuses and outright fascism in this country’s history. Which is saying something. Imagine publicly endorsing this. ON A PRO WRESTLING PAGE!

Portland, Ore., doom manglers Dispossessed see shit for what it is, and their new record “Dêmocide” battles back against fascist regimes, environmental horrors, atrocities being undertaken on other people, and systemic violence. There is no remaining quiet at the sight of horrors that seem to top themselves every day, and the four (technically five) tracks packed into this record feel like they’re frying the power structure in an acid bath. The band—vocalist M. Du Bose, guitarist M. White, guitarist/bassist K. Jewett, drummer L. MacDonald—lays waste, daring to strike back against a regime that would like to quash dissention and refusing to be anything but loud and bothersome.

“Exanimate” starts with bass chugging, sounds ringing out and massacring your ears, growls menacing as the guitars continue to swelter. The energy melts and smolders, the playing continuing to bring heat, doom bubbling like oil, scorching you and creating toxic fumes. The battering renews as growls smother and riffs burn, a sorrowful murk hanging over everything, sounds sailing off into misery. “Concrete Tomb” opens with growls retching, the pace ravaging as it moves like a beast, growls circling as the leads swagger. The churning becomes insurmountable, guitars adding pressure, the final moments choked out by frustration and fury.

“Opulent Doom” belts with shrieks and punchy guitars, acidic melodies eating away at flesh, the drums devastating as the power corrodes. The vocals throttle as the pace grinds, and then the screams that follow feel particularly morbid. The energy turns around as infernal gusts punish, and the final moments burn off into exhaust. “Watan/If I Must Die” technically are listed as two tracks, but they act as one mammoth force, the bass spilling tar, guitars marring as power pummels. The growls warp over a bruising tempo, dragging you through hell before a brief respite lets you catch your breath. Sounds buzz as if emitted from a dank basement while howls boil in echo, guitars liquify, and the final moments lurch into an unforgiving oblivion.

Dispossessed’s commitment to crushing fascism and lashing back at powers of oppression act as a fucking warhammer on “Dêmocide.” The music is a galvanizing statement conveyed by earth-crushing doom and death that feels grimy and devastating, the exact type of response you wish people who could do something about this would muster. This is a massive strike back, and while it might not change the tide, it’s heartening to know something so ugly could stand for righteousness. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://carbonizedrecords.merchtable.com/?

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

It’s easy to hide when the tides get too strong, when it feels like they’ll crash down on us and bury our voices forever. And make no mistake, there are plenty of forces out there that would like to do just that. But bravery is saying no in the face of fear, and history tells us tyranny always falls, so while our chips may be down now, it won’t be that way forever.

Dutch black metal firepower Terzij de Horde are living the same reality as you and I, and on their thunderous new record “Our Breath Is Not Ours Alone” (a line drawn from German sociologist Hartmut Rosa), they break through the barriers trying to hold us back. The band—vocalist Joost Vervoort, guitarists Demian Snel and Jelle Agema, bassist Johan van Hattum, drummer Richard Japenga—is on fire from the start, blending black metal and even some hardcore strains, pouring their emotion and determination all over these seven tracks that burst with energy. This is defiance and resilience blazing heavily, taking you with them as they trample the power structure. 

“Each Breath Is a Flame” sets the tone early, blazing out of nowhere as guitars fire up and simmer, feedback chokes, and righteous wails blend into “Raise Them Towards the Sun” that is raucous and punishing. Wails scar as black metal-style melodies let lava flow, a snarling force slashing into the side of the earth. Leads blaze and then glaze, bursting open at the seams, channeling a beastly attack that rampages to the end. “The Shadows of Prefiguration” races as the guitars hail blackness, their combined force pummeling as the temperatures skyrocket. Raspy wails snaps as a violent gust takes control, everything picking up the pace to dangerous levels. “They’ll never forget us again!”  Vervoort continually howls as the final moments act as a powder keg of revolt.

“A Hammer to the Great Matter of Birth and Death” hangs in the air before destruction comes, nasty howls and hammering guitars forming an impenetrable force, The playing is muscular and hangs on bones, growing hypnotic for a stretch, and then launching a ferocious assault that spatters colors. “The All-Consuming Work of the Soul’s Foreclosing” has strings glazing and howls wrenching, melodic smoke darkening the air, the drums blistering and leaving marks. The pace picks up the speed as the howls destroy, everything coming to a blinding finish. “Justice Is Not Enough to Leave the House of Modernity” starts reflective before the emotion spurts,  Vervoort calling, “We must leave this house!” Guitars infect before tightening their grip, hearts bleed fresh blood, and the howls pulse, leading the momentum into a righteous show of rage. Closer “Discarding All Adornments” brings boiling guitars and a hefty pace, steaming and flattering, the guitars spiraling into oblivion. The pace calms as Amelia Baker of Cinder Well speaks over the fog, declaring, “We await our rebirth to the light of the morningstar.” The pace engulfs, mauling and battering, the wails punishing, everything storming before bowing out to an elegant sheen.

Terzij de Horde have an uncanny ability to get your blood flowing and fists raised in defiance like they do on “Our Breath Is Not Ours Alone,” a record that answers the times as leadership globally doesn’t seem to care to do so. This is a record that, even if you choose to ignore the lyrical content, will light your guts on fire. It’s inescapable. But if you’re also feeling lost and wondering how to carry on, perhaps this will help you light your own torch of defiance to hold aloft against chaos.

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

To buy the album, go here (U.S.): https://deathwishinc.com/collections/church-road

Or here (Europe): https://www.deathwishinc.eu/collections/church-road

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

Or here: https://shop.tartarusrecords.com/product/terzij-de-horde-our-breath-is-not-ours-alone/

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

And here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/

And here: https://tartarusrecords.bandcamp.com/

It’s great to see more fantasy elements returning to metal, and I realize that it never actually went away. It just seemed for the longest time that any artists of this ilk were off on their own corner while everyone was trying their best to be heavier and more brutal than the rest. Metal can be the best form of escapism, and it feels like that’s coming back in full force.

Morke is one of those bands, a one-person project helmed by Eric Wing, and the latest album under that banner, “To Carry On,” keeps the castle metal focus strong as ever. Over nine tracks, Wing (joined by session drummer CJ Yacoub) blasts into Medieval times, making it feel like you should be leaping on a horse with a goddamn sword looking to defend the village folk. Sure, that’s in your mind, but again, escapism. You’ve kept up with current events, yes? What better time than now to indulge in a record that can take you away from all of that and give you an adventure to keep you sane. This delivers that in spades. By the way, the mighty Tanner Anderson (of the like-minded Obsequiae and also Crypt Sermon and Majesties among others) adds guest guitars and vocals, which makes all the sense in the world.

“Sublymed Respair” has guitars washing in, echoing as howls pierce, the speed taking control quickly. Shrieks fire as the guitars soar and float, the melodies flooding the senses, loons calling out at the end. “Falling Leaves” opens with glorious melodies, a ravaging pace, and screams blasting you right in the chest, the power blazing heavily. The guitars pour fuel on the fire as catchy power overwhelms, the spirit feeling like it’s storming the gates for a mighty defense. “Ashes of Feudalism” has leads liquifying rock, vicious howls rippling, the drums picking up and carrying the swarm. The tension continues to spread, howls stinging as the leads glow, swimming in and out of a rushing stream. “Myne Owne Hertis Rote” rushes forward, the shrieks scorching, the center exploding and delivering melodic heat. The playing calms before slicing back in again, the riffs raising spirits, and a mesmerizing pace taking over and bleeding into oblivion.

“Coup D’oeil” has the guitars circling the wagons, churning and spitting smoke, a tornadic pattern taking over and threatening. Warmer tones then waft before the fires spread, the playing loops, and everything disappears into the flames. “Viola Odorata” rouses with guitars mangling, the drums rattling, and melodies gusting, devastating the ground. The energy jars as spirits rise and run amongst us, ending this instrumental piece on a jarring note. “Crystalline Firmament” has a classic metal feel, the riffs flowing, shrieks twisting muscle as the humidity thickens. The drums punish as the guitars surge, the pace shaking the earth, floating off into oblivion. “Wisterian Arbor” has blazing guitars and churning howls, the drums shaking loose any cobwebs, the melodies bending through the ages. Shrieks flood as temperate leads surround, melting into trickling water. The closing title track fires up right away, the vocals wrestling you to the dirt, the riffs encircling and causing dizziness. A hazy lull gives you a breather before the pace ignites one final time, the shrieks peel away at ivy towers, and everything dissolves into echo.

“To Carry On” is a step up in the metal world for Morke, and anyone who likes their metal equal parts fantasy and skullduggery surely will find a lot to like here. At times, the riffs blend together a little simply because they’re channeling the same spirit, but subsequent listens help those layers split a little better. It’s another strong entry from this project that continually shows its strength in emotion, heart, and properly archaic melodies. The album calls for us to answer a bell that takes courage to face, to not back down against a force of shallow leaders disguised as a house of cards.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://truecultrecords.bandcamp.com/album/to-carry-on

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

Darkness hangs over everything. Every day feels like a different means for self-torture, or you can ignore everything that’s going on and pretend all is OK. Pain has become a regular presence in our lives, and we’ve seen people we love go away and even of ways of live be under constant threat. How can one not lash out?

Josh Hines, the artist behind black metal beast Starer, is choosing to express his frustration in a productive way through his art. The project’s new full-length “Ancient Monuments and Modern Sadness” is one of the most obviously agitated to date on the surface and deep in its guts. It’s a punishing, storming, chaotic adventure through tumult, loss, longing, and lingering pieces of the past. It hammers from the first moment, continues its onslaught, and never takes its foot off your throat until the final second. All Starer music has been captivating, but this one is the next level in intensity.

“I Cry Your Mother’s Blood” rushes at you, leads gushing as Hines’ shrieks separate flesh from ribs, the storming force only gathering in strength. The title is shrieked over a verse, and its intent darkens you, the savagery crushing before a glimmering end. “Il-Kantilena” blasts in, the vocals wrenching, the playing melting into cold tributaries before the temps rise suddenly. Guitars slash with violence, an atmospheric pocket joins and rains ice blades, and the shrieks mangle, everything consumed by mist. “The Field of Reeds” has sweltering riffs that smother, a chugging, thrashing pace that makes your adrenaline pump, and a force that breaks wills. The playing turns sinewy, synth basking over frigidity, regal chaos spreading and succumbing to devastating strikes. “Immortality of Writers” opens with guitars hovering like a darkened cloud, synth lightening, and then a tornadic pace opening its jaws to consume. Beastly wails strike as the playing bends and warps, melody gliding and swarming, stirring into a blaring finish.

“So, You Traitor” starts with the bass coiling, darker guitars dripping ashy moisture, and then a black metal gust dislodging the foundation. The fury bellows as guitars sting, mangling relentlessness rushing before mesmerizing. “In the Place of Truth” slips in, guitars melting as synth lasers lather, fog accumulating before clouds open and drench. The vocals crush as the playing lets freezing air chill your flesh, slipping into mystery as shrieks blur reality, and immersive power causes pressure that nearly claims your consciousness. “Song of the Harper” lures you in with guitars creating pathways, howls snarling, and then the tempo cooling a bit, letting your wounds have a moment for repair. But it’s not long before the gates are torn down, the howls consume, and the synth clouds your mind, blackness spilling into your soul. Closer “Lie Around My Neck” runs 10:37 and makes good use of every moment, guitars echoing as the shrieks rain, drama accumulating and making your heart race. Clean signing adds a different element, synth pumps and creates majesty, and everything surges and pulls in exciting new directions. Chimes echo as it feels like the cosmos is surrounding you, steely riffs vibrate, the singing flows into synth pockets, and reverberations heads off into the stars, you pulled from your dream by a dog barking. Perfect way to end any record!

“Ancient Monuments and Modern Sadness” is another explosive chapter of Starer lore that is punishing and spellbinding, each track leading you into the next chapter seamlessly, your emotions running on high. In a world swamped with black metal, it’s hard to sift the waters for the really good stuff, which Starer is for sure. This is a thunderous, volcanic album musically and emotionally, and its force can be felt well after the final second of music has expired.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://starer.bandcamp.com/album/ancient-monuments-and-modern-sadness-2

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

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

And here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/

We’ve talked a lot the past few weeks about bands making changes to their sound and approach and how the results can go many different ways as a result. When it works, it can reinvent a band or artist, giving them an entirely new focus, a way to pull out elements of their creativity they perhaps didn’t consider before.

Portland, Ore., power Coastlands is one of those that decided not to stay cemented in a corner and found fruitful expression beyond that as their new self-titled album proves. I follow the band on TikTok, and their posts the last year seemed to indicate more atmospheric ideas were afoot, but even that didn’t fully prepare me for these nine tracks and 36 minutes on the dot. The band—guitarist/synth player/vocalist Jason Sissoyev, bassist/vocalist Andy Ramirez, drummer Trent McIntyre—remains rooted in heaviness and power, but they add imaginative compositions and spacey pathways that makes the harder parts hit even more forcefully. It took a couple listens to fully get used to the new alterations, but now that I’m immersed, I’m fully engaged in where Coastlands have gone and hopefully are going next.

“See” dawns in blurry noise, hushed vocals trickling, synth adding a spacey feel. The melodies get further detached, acoustics strumming, the sounds squirming away. “Hollowing” melts, and then the power levels, the call of, “All good things will go away,” feeling a little close to home. The pace gets more explosive, even with gentler strains working through them, and then the drums pounds, the keys encircle, and savage howls ripple through the earth. “Mors” starts with chatter before the playing arrives slowly, crashing into a melodic fog, the keys smearing light and haunting. Sounds flow and warp, the chatter continuing into the background, washing into “Vessels” that immediately begins to punish. The playing chugs as vicious screams scorch, energy gusting as the guitars fire, and the riveting drumming bruises. The bass flexes as sounds simmer, the singing numbing as the cosmic  pressure builds, roars tearing into the distance.

“Porous” has the synth spreading like sunlight, the singing soothing, the drums kicking in before shrieks splinter in the sky. The playing swims in the distance, wails belting, “I never know,” over and over into oblivion. “Feeding” starts with the playing gusting, softer singing merging as the drums crash, clouds filling the sky. The pace gets punchier before biting down, the singing feeling numbing before disappearing into the stars. “Tied” explodes with driving force, the singing slinking, jarring and buzzing as things get more pillowy. The drums begin to spray as the screams maul, singing coming in behind it, the tension tightening as passion crests. “Neverhere” stars with sounds blurring, the singing echoing as the noise gnaws, spitting waves of static. A choral sheen slips in, the beats rattle, and the energy flows fully before fading. Closer “Drugblood” (has to be a “What We Do in the Shadows” reference) blisters and infuses air, chugging as guitars churn, burning as drums spatter. Melodies gush as shrieks rain down, the fireworks rippling through the atmosphere, hitting blazing highs that rocket blood through your veins. The exuberant, “Yeah, buddy!” heard in the background lets you know they knew they nailed it.

Coastlands emerge a completely different animal on this self-titled album, a fitting title considering this is sort of a rebirth. They haven’t left their heaviness behind and instead found different textures and wrinkles to make the bursts even more impactful. It’s also a record you can put on and let it carry you away somewhere, perhaps to worlds or dimensions previously unrevealed to you.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://translationloss.com/collections/coastlands

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

Music is supposed to make you feel something, which is one of the most obvious things I’ve ever said here. Yet, a lot of time artists and labels forget that, thinking this art is a mere commodity for consumption. But what about your heart and your mind and nervous system? They need something too, and when you can find the right potion, indulge.

It is completely impossible to hear a piece of music from LA-based black metal power Agriculture and not be moved in some way. Maybe it’s even aversion, but at least you’re reacting. They call their style ecstatic black metal, and their swarming, neck-jerking album “The Spiritual Sound” delivers that and so much more. The band—vocalist/guitarist Dan Meyer, vocalist/bassist Leah B. Levinson, guitarist Richard Chowenhill, drummer Kern Haug—sounds as channeled and confident as ever, and this 10-track, 44-minute excursion challenges you mind and body, dashing through boundaries, mixing your brain chemicals, and sometimes even leaning toward delicacy. There may be other bands that create similar sounds, but no one puts it together like Agriculture, nor do they inject it into bloodstream in the same manner. This is a testament to human emotion and sounds that resonate deep within, and it feels amazing to experience. 

“My Garden” is an explosive opener, and it is all over the fucking map in the best possible way. Bass chugs before the pace incinerates, mauling as shrieks kill, and the band even leans into hardcore terrain that powders bone. The chorus is unexpectedly clean, but then a stir crazy burst re-opens, attacking until everything spirals out. “Flea” charges up, speaking murmuring over the first verse, shrieks peeling away flesh with glass. Singing lulls as the pace slows down, and then screams sit alone, in a vacuum, warping. Later on, guitars tingle, the carnage builds, and everything spills into “Micah (5:15am)” and its numbing melody. Fiery screams belt as the pace scorches, the riffs rambling and shifting, adding ample pressure, the bass riding harder as serenity arrives. “The Weight” blisters with screams and a vicious pace, wiry weirdness confounding before all hell breaks loose. Screams maim as guitars gut, the tension snapping, reveling in a seismic blast. “Serenity” is anything but, and it regularly gushes with adrenaline. Shrieks maul as an emotional craze crashes like a tsunami, damaged, bloody hearts fully open, an incredibly expressive display bleeding into the second half that has a decidedly different tone.

The title track situates in spacey noise that feels like it is pulling you beyond this plane, static crackling into “Dan’s Love Song,” a track that reminds a little in spirit of “The Well” from their last full-length. Sounds bubble as clouds gather, lush singing lathering with psychedelic emotion. The playing is effusive but gentle, your mind soaring into a dream haze before the sound melts into the sky. “Bodhidharma” centers on the founder of Zen Buddhism and his successor Huike, guitars mangling from the gate before things go instantly silent, desperate screaming ringing out in desolation. The nitro bursts out of quiet are jarring, even on subsequent listens, and the transformation from agony to peace lands firmly. Singing lulls before turning dreamy, and then electrified soloing causes your blood to boil, incredible energy surging as shrieks rip, blending into  “Hallelujah.” Acoustics scrape as clean singing goes high, the call of, “My head is on fire,” reminding of Huike. The folkish vibes rumble lowly, barely audible sounds whisper, and guitars fire up, loop in, and blast out. Closer “The Reply” opens with drums rousing, sooty playing blistering, and clean singing glowing, going into rustic vibes. The leads then break the levee and flood, howls carving, everything rushing to the surface, and the guitars melting the entrance closed.

“The Spiritual Sound” is an experience and more than just a collection of songs, an infectious tale of two halves that fit together seamlessly both musically and spiritually. Agriculture operate on a different frequency than most heavy bands, activating your nervous system and sending energy rocketing through your body. This record is such a gigantic step ahead for Agriculture, a massive advancement toward violently expanding their boundaries, tightening their grasp on a future that feels blissfully limitless.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://nowflensing.com/collections/agriculture

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

A band with a strong reputation and a pretty storied career usually doesn’t switch gears in the middle and go in a much different direction. Well, I guess the Bee Gees did, and look how they turned out. Their first reference in this site’s history. But you don’t see it very much is my point, so when it happens, it’s intriguing.

About a decade ago, Hooded Menace veered away from dank, guttural doom metal to embrace the electricity of the forces we had in the 1980s. It certainly was a choice, and so far, it’s worked out pretty fucking great. Their new record “Lachrymose Monuments of Obscuration” stays in the direction they’ve been on, but never abandoning their doom roots nor pulling back on the murkiness. This seven-track, 47-minute traveler goes in and out of the shadows, exciting along the way with metallic glory. The band—vocalist Harri Kuokkanen, guitarist/bassist/keyboardist/founder Lasse Pyykkö, drummer Pekka Koskelo—radiates, the energy firing through your veins, feeling half as long as it is. Plus, there’s a pretty awesome cover song that really took me by surprise.

“Twilight Passages” is a mystifying opening instrumental with warm guitars and synth swooshes, moving into “Pale Masquerade” that punches and roars right off the bat. Leads smoke and glimmer as the growls pay homage to the darkness, and the pace continually grows more aggressive. Leads smoke and glimmer before soaring while the growls curdle, and the final moments give off a vintage 80s feel. “Portrait Without a Face” starts clean before the bass starts chugging, growls coat, and warm guitars let blood coat flesh. Doomy churning increases the fog coverage while the leads accelerate, the strings moan, and misery spreads onto the throne of menace.

“Daughters of Lingering Pain” is slower when it dawns and even more sorrowful, howls scraping as the guitars glaze, the bass driving deeper into the drama. The tempo is strong and alluring, the guitars gutting and blazing, and then nasty wails clench throats as gothy undertones bring a serious chill to everything. “Lugubrious Dance” fades in, the sadness rising to the surface, doomy and muddy playing leaving bruising. Nasty wails slice and add to the blood loss, and then the pace slows, dragging you through darkness and into abandoned caverns. The guitars pick up the pace as throaty vocals strangle, doomy snarling stomps, and the mental wounds set in even deeper, the final moments scorching open wounds. “Save a Prayer” is a cover of the Duran Duran track from their 1982 album “Rio,” and it sneaks up on you if you’re not paying attention to the track listing. They make this song their own, the familiar chorus feeling even more foreboding in this band’s hands. Closer “Into Haunted Oblivion” runs 9:46, fading in from the dark, guitars unloading, speed coming and going, the growls crawling through cracks. Guitars explode as the soloing blazes, the drums are hammered, and everything takes off from there. Leads echo and melt, the growls gurgle, and the ending comes coldly but quickly, ripping air from your overstimulated lungs.

“Lachrymose Monuments of Obscuration” is more of the good stuff from Hooded Menace, a band that keeps finding new ways to keep things interesting and moving into different, yet just as morbid territories. These seven tracks flow seamlessly, even the seemingly out-of-left-field cover track that might be a weird choice for any other band. This record is as strong as anything they put out the last half decade and provides a nice change of pace from the grislier early days, making for a really strong resume from front to back. Also, perfect fodder for Autumn! 

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

To buy the album (North America), go here: https://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/

Or here (International): https://shop.season-of-mist.com/

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

I had an argument with a friend once when I was listening to a record on a road trip (I was driving, by the way) because he didn’t see the value to this piece of music since it didn’t have easy few-minute-long songs with traditional structure. He’s smarted up since then. But it makes you realize some people see records and songs as very specific things.

“Ochre & Ash” is the first new music from Fauna in 13 years, and like this album’s three predecessors, if you’re looking for quick hooks and playlist fodder, you have stumbled into the wrong place. Fauna’s musical output always felt more like ritual than record, and its sole members Vines and Echtra go to great lengths to help your spirit and lineage connect with music that goes well beyond the ordinary. This record imagines the death process from physical end through the passageway into rebirth, and along the way, the band haunts and devastates, bringing you into the experience in a manner that illuminates your entire being. It feels like being in the center of the ceremony, your essence rising to the sky.

“A Conjuring” begins with wild cackling, horns signaling ritual, feral wails and chants collecting and growing in scope. Drumming drives as buzzing fills the air, a final chime noting the end and the transition into “Nature & Madness.” Guitars churn right away, the drumming echoing as cries encircle, blistering as patterns repeat. Howls thicken along with the hypnosis, guitars rampaging into a mesmerizing flow, and then the pace bursts open. The ground rumbles as the band stomps, melodies rain down with ferocity, bleeding into “Femoral Sun.” Here, sounds swirl and tingle, chants fill the air, and the swarming gets thicker, stinging before fading away.

“Labyrinths” starts with clean guitars dripping, the aura feeling hypnotic, and then things turn doomy, melodies turning tornadic. Guitars buzz as the playing drips, burning into snarling howls, and then a newfound savagery explodes. The pace pummels before working into a brief calm, the final moments slowly battering as winds whip into “Mockery” that opens with wild animals howling. Barks echo as strange, feral noises penetrate, a gentle melody washing over and setting the pace for 23:05-long closer “Eternal Return” that instantly bursts at the seams. Raw wails strike as melodies make the room spin, speeding and hulking as the drums engulf. Rage builds and bristles before temperatures cool, a pocket of ambiance spreading and resetting minds. Volcanic eruptions spit rock as the pace pounds away, guitars smearing as howls spread ash, stretching muscle as chants arise. Dark fury settles as the power rips at reality, howls sting, and a barnstorming attacks blisters into the dark.

“Ochre and Ash,” like all Fauna records, is an experience, not a mere collection of songs you can pick and choose to absorb. This is a journey into the unknown as well as a reunion with our savage selves, the traits we inherited and still exhibit that have been established long ago. This is perfect music for your own retreat, even if only in your mind, to retrace your steps and prepare for nature’s inevitable final phase.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://spkr.store/collections/fauna

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

Death metal has grown grander in scope ever since its disgusting birth more than three decades ago. There are bands that have taken the sound to outer space and beyond and have completely transformed what is possible with this style of music. All the while, it has kept the guttural stuff just as misery inducing, so everyone still gets what they want.

English death metal band Wode have been pretty consistent the last decade, releasing four records in that span, the latest being “Uncrossing the Keys,” their second for 20 Buck Spin. This is their most ambitious record so far, at least musically, and over nine tracks and 43 minutes, the band—vocalist/guitarist/keyboardist M. Czerwoniuk, guitarist/backing vocalist D. Shaw, bassist E. Troup, drummer/guitarist/keyboardist T. Horrocks—kind of heads in a similar direction as Tribulation about a decade ago (though not nearly as far into toying with mainstream acceptance). The playing adds more goth elements, the guitars explore more, and the vocals remain just as acidic. It’s a different aura for them, one that might not hit home for everyone.

The title track opens, firing up as cavernous howls jar, a dark, stormy vibe becoming apparent. The playing turns creaky and fiery, guitars swell, and a vicious exclamation point is stamped at the end. “Under Lanternlight” has catchy riffs, sootier melodies, and growls smearing. There is a gothy undertone, which again brings up that Tribulation comparison, guitars swimming amid the chaos. Wails sicken as cold punishment is dealt, the leads taking control with the vocals lashing out. “Saturn Shadow” has liquifying leads that create a steam bath, echoes calls, and a blistering force leaves marks. The pace lights up as guitars go on an adventure, punching and stirring until melting with fire. “Transmutation” enters amid burning leads, and a smoking, steamy feel, trucking hard and flattening. The leads then cool as melodies soar, howls scowling as the force peels tires into the asphalt.

“Prisoner of the Moon” is the most like Wode’s older material, the leads melting bone, howls belting, and powerful dual leads taking control. The growls thunder as the playing darts in and out of shadows, giving off exhaust as the track storms to a finish. “Fiery End” has jerky riffs, bells chiming, and growls lurching, all elements churning into filth. The leads angle and race while the growls bubble to the surface, ending in a pit of misery. “Lash of the Tyrant” has a fantastical start that lathers, fluid and glorious guitars spilling, and vocals delivering the brutality. Riffs cut as the playing encircles, the drums maul, and everything ends viciously. “Phantom” is an instrumental piece that bleeds in with guitars swarming, the fog getting thicker and more immersive, blazing out into closer “Dashed on the Rocks” that starts in eerie clouds. The pace picks up quickly and boils, the howls rampaging over elegant leads. Savage howls continue to punch holes while the intensity spikes, speeding up and crashing out into morbidity.

Wode certainly are headed in a different direction on “Uncrossing the Keys,” and while the band remains steeped in death metal, the expanded direction is clear pretty much from the start. It’s unquestionably a good record musically, but it’s the hardest it’s ever taken me to get into a Wode album, and I’m still not there yet. Maybe it eventually sinks in, or perhaps this is enough of a transition that it keeps the album slightly at arm’s length. 

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

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

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