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/

One time I pulled a muscle in my lower back, and it kept me hobbled for the better part of two weeks. Everything was a hassle to complete, and trying to walk the dog was mission impossible. That was a minor injury. An annoyance. I can’t imagine the upheaval of sustaining a major injury and having the deal with the aftermath.

“The Convalescence Agonies,” the second record from Weeping Sores, tells that kind of story, where a debilitating injury changes your life and threatens to rob you of some of the most important skills you possess. Doug Moore (vocals, guitars, bass) experienced this very thing in 2018 when he severely injured his shoulder, and as the injury took its toll, it robbed him of the ability to play guitar for a stretch of time. This record and its five tracks recount the five-year struggle Moore endured to be well enough to play guitar and write this record. And it’s a ripper, yet one with a phantasmal heart. Its a stew of death metal Moore created with drummer Steve Schwegler and further enhanced by  cellist Annie Blythe, keyboardist Brendon Randall-Myers (Scarcity), banjo player Lev Sloujitel, and guitarist Pete Lloyd (Replicant, ex-Dystrophy). But it’s not just a metallic journey. It’s one that puts you through a mental ringer, stretching your brain to its limits.

“Arctic Summer” starts ringing and chugging, strings glazing over the chaos, which is a musical recurrence on the album and a chillingly welcome one. Moore toggles between guttural growl and panicked shrieks, the sounds stretching as the chaos bubbles, howls crushing as everything races toward a calming sheen. “Empty Vessel Hymn” brings teasing guitars, menacing chugs, and gurgled growls, the melodies tangling in the background. Strange vibes float as the keys flush, feeling like the soundtrack to an old horror film, laid to rest with spattering drums and a charred finish. “Sprawl in the City of Sorrow” has noise hovering over like a phantom before death growls squeeze your throat, brutality leading the way and moving into bloodier terrain. Strings flutter as the pace trucks harder, an elegant fury rising amid dripping keys and an oncoming nausea. Growls sicken as the pace flattens you, the guitars fire up, and cold melodies change the rising temperatures, offering a disarmingly calm release.

“Pleading for the Scythe” starts rather clean and breezy before things turn burly and rubbery, the growls retching through muddy waters. The battering speeds up, and dangerously so, the howls menacing as blasts rip off your face, chiseling and thrashing through an ocean of sickness. Keys mix as the guitars hypnotize and blur, driving steadily toward a welcoming abyss. The 14:24-long closing title track is calculated, growls chewing into picture, guitars glimmering even as the threat of audio violence becomes more apparent. Morbidity thickens as the growls crush, guitars sweep, and strings bring in a strange chill that soothes your wounds. The excitement calms, guitars slowly beaming through thick, black clouds, the brutality ramps up in full, and unhinged cries tear down your spine. Shrieks and growls do battle, the guitars catch fire, and the keys and strings rise, bringing a hypnotic end to such a raucous journey.

Not only do Weeping Sores generously deal metallic agony on “The Convalescence Agonies,” but you practically can hear the physical agony Moore endured writing and completing this record. Having a major part of your craft torn from you due to physical limitations obviously is frustrating, and every ounce of that was poured all over these five songs. So, it’s a triumph on two levels in that Moore overcame his injury, and that the world got a twisted, snarled new serving of death and doom to warp our brains.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://metalodyssey.8merch.us/ 

Or here (Europe): https://metalodyssey.8merch.com/ 

For more on the label, go here: https://i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/

It’s increasingly becoming more difficult to find good things to say and or celebrate about the world in which we live and the people around us. It feels darker every year as oppression rains down from the wealthy who dominate policy and because our planet is in decay, and those who could make change don’t give a fuck. 

So, that makes for the perfect arrival for “Obscured Into Nebulous Dusk,” the thunderous third record from UK doom crushers Coltsblood. This is the first full-length from the band—vocalist/bassist/keyboard player John McNulty, guitarist Jem McNulty, drummer Jay Plested—since 2017’s “Ascending Into Shimmering Darkness,” and just think of everything that has happened since then. It only makes sense their sound would get burlier and more ferocious, injecting strains of death metal into their mixture, coming out with a four-track, 42-minute bruiser that feels as decimated as many of our psyches.

“Until the Eidolon Falls” opens, vibrating the earth, drone permeating as guitars hang in the atmosphere, the melodies holding for full gush. Growls lurch as the misery rains down, heavy beams of energy feel insurmountable, and a brief calm pushes into sweltering conditions. The playing pounds harder, crushing as the vocals curdle, noise wailing and spreading before burning off. “Waning of the Wolf Moon” drubs and batters, the vocals wrenching as the assault tramples you underfoot, dust catching in your lungs. Guitars smear as shrieks rain and destroy, the playing ravaging with fire, the bass chugging as noise drapes over the madness. Drums pummel as speaking hovers, pressure pierces, and the final moments dissolve into the ground.

“Transcending the Immortal Gateway” is whirry and hazy, the vocals menacing, hypnotic melodies wedging into your brain. Breezy leads push into forceful punishment, the howls scrape, and a dreamy haze hangs over before the noise rips. Guitars melt as the humidity thickens, guitars stretch, and space consumes everything whole. The closing title track basks in mournful organs, lurching howls, and doomy melodies that thicken into a black sheet. Sorrow and tumult combine with pained wails that eat at your psyche while the playing slows and tortures, a melodic gaze somehow squeezing out of that. The playing soars into the dark as a lone guitar calls, then everything swarms anew, the growls bubble, and the thickening darkness cascades permanently.

Coltsblood expertly drive their creativity toward darkness and pain on “Obscured into Nebulous Dusk,” their most realized and heaviest both from a musical and philosophical perspective. This is a devastating display, one that will crunch you thoroughly in their jaws, leaving you bruised and battered on the other side. It’s a massive effort to battle back against those who try to blacken the earth and its people with oppressive ways that must be destroyed completely.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://translationloss.com/collections/coltsblood-collection

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

Moving into middle age is really strange. If you’re not there yet, then trust me. One day, or over a period of time, it sets in that you’ve lived half of your life, or more, and that things that once mattered are not as important. You also deal with loss, pain, aging, and even the realization that what led you in your youth has faded.

Planning for Burial, the solo project by Thom Wasluck, long has centered on life’s phases, what they mean, and how they feel. On his fourth full-length “It’s Closeness, It’s Easy,” Wasluck tangles with getting older, noticing shifts in people you’ve long known, losing loved ones and the strange journey through grief (he lost his beloved 17-year-old cat), and watching parents and yourself grow older. There also are good things about it such as realizing what and who truly matters to you and being able to feel more at home as a person. It hurts and it feels freeing. 

“You Think” opens heavy and driving, pained singing pounding, the playing washing over you and overwhelming. Vocals warble as colorful rushes splatter, keys splash, and sounds crash down, making a seamless segue into instrumental “Movement Two.” There, guitars brush, noise rises, and clouds slowly lift, settling into the atmosphere and moving toward “(blueberry pop)” that’s another shorter, instrumental piece. Cello swells as the pace lulls, guitars chill, and the strings send vibrations, slipping out into calm. “A Flowing Field of Green” opens with strings and a guitar glaze, drums sticking, the singing icing as the momentum builds. The playing stirs and then scorches, crumbling down a hill in your mind, spitting heat and corrosion. “With Your Sunglasses on Like a Ghoul” is heated with the guitars burning, emotional riffs weighing down and making their presence felt. Gazey power spirals as the singing lurches, the tempo pushing and pulling, sound fumes blurring. 

“Grivo” is a strange transmission, hushed singing haunting, keys and guitars glowing as if supernatural, a solemn ending heading toward “Twenty-Seventh of February” that engorges right away. Guitars trudge as the fuzz builds, and the strings layer with emotion. A doomy haze hovers as the guitars swelter like an oncoming storm, sounds crape and falter, and everything fades suddenly. “Fresh Flowers for All Time” starts as driving post-punk with the singing slurring, and a chugging, pumping rhythm making your blood race. An energetic glaze envelopes as the singing stings, and the music liquifies. Steady beats rattle as keys glimmer, some final shots hit flesh, and the final notes mix into closer “Farm Cat, Watching.” This is a fitting outro built with circulating keys, psychedelic strangeness dripping, and eerie sentiments melting into time.

Wasluck pours a lot of himself into “It’s Closeness, It’s Easy,” a record that certainly pulls at me personally having experienced a lot of what is detailed here. But as usual, he leaves all of himself on display, an examination of what it means to get older, how we deal with loss, and how we keep track of our days. These times have their bright days and dark days as we feel ourselves transform yet again into what future awaits us.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://nowflensing.com/collections/planning-for-burial

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

United States black metal takes on all kind of forms, from the atmospheric rituals carried on by the Pacific Northwest to the creative and chaotic fury from NYC to the thunderous and dexterous strangeness of the West Coast bands. It’s an interesting way to show how sounds develop in each area from their collected influences.

Tennessee black metal force Vile Haint have dressed their style with Southern gothic flourishes and the haunting mythology intertwined. On their spellbinding new EP “Abound With Malice,” the band—vocalist/guitarist Ryan Clackner, keyboardist Edward Longo, drummer Zac Ormerod—smears your senses with local lore and strange, disarming tales that have browned around the edges from the ages. These six songs dig into your psyche and blisters through cobwebs and haunted fields, knifing toward you with psychosis and a punishing devastation.

“Blessed Unholy Name” starts as an orchestral march, scuffed with noise, feeling properly haunted, and that intro takes us into “All the Shades of Red (Powdered Bones)” that’s a healthy blast of doomy black metal. Howls swirl as miasmal melodies grow into a spiral, warped and ashy playing driving across the land. Strange keys make your head feel strange as the guitars continue their assault, storming through melodic lather. The fury blinds as you’re whipping into hypnotic anxiety that burns off toward space. “The Night Becomes Moonless” is spooky and blistering, howls crushing as the guitars stymie, the playing growing more restless. Scorching melodies bubble as the guitars leg tackle you to the ground, pushing you into the dirt. “O’ Malign Star, the Lament” drives through furious wails and mesmerizing playing, the guitars catching fire and letting smoke spread liberally. A dreamy gaze surfaces behind the building power, the guitars chime, and full electrification fries your cells. “The Hills Been Set Ablaze” attacks right away, dragging you into sooty hell, drubbing as the screams lather. There’s a claustrophobic attack that makes it feel like you’re struggling through a tunnel, echoing and choking, finally releasing its hold as colorful melodies flourish. “Mud Plains and Wrought Iron” is a quick, swampy, psychedelic outro piece that squeezes your temples and lets you swim in eerie waters until your mentally can take no more.

“Abound With Malice” is a fitting check-in with Vile Haint who would seem due for a new full-length but offered up this thunderous appetizer instead. The music remains devastating and ashen, but its personality is unlike a lot of U.S. black metal in that it feels delivered by ghouls stuck between worlds. If this is your first foray into Vile Haint, prepare to be disarmed and disoriented.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://vilehaint.bandcamp.com/album/abound-with-malice

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

Back when the New World Order in the now-defunct WCW would talk about “getting the band back together,” it always led to total disappointment, the further beating of a once-great idea that has lost its relevance. In fact, it usually doesn’t result in anything but short-lived nostalgia that never feels genuine and wears out its welcome.

Ah, that’s a weird way to start talking about Pelican’s triumphant new record “Flickering Resonance,” their first to include their original members—guitarists Laurent Schroeder-Lebec and Trevor de Brauw, bassist Bryan Herweg, and drummer Larry Herweg—in more than a decade. Granted 3/4 of the band carried on once Schroeder-Lebec left the fold in 2012, but having the band back together is a real thing here, and it’s glorious. This group has been making really good music in the interim, but having these four forces here just feels different. It feels right, and you can hear that in the music that bristles with energy, potency, and passion. That’s how you do it, nWo! By the way, I feel bad we’re doing this a week late. But I could not decide between Mares of Thrace and Pelican last week, and it seriously was a torturous decision. So, we went in alphabetical order.

“Gulch” gets things going in active fashion, the guitars kicking in and punches landing, the melodies snaking through your brain. The guitar interplay is organic and heartfelt, making your blood race, swelling until a single guitar is left standing. “Evergreen” feels like classic Pelican, streams moving forward, sweeping you up as the sounds swell, and then the guitars get warmer. Sounds simmer under the surface until a full burst, the leads swimming through multiple colors similar to the shades on the cover, and then the energy goes clean, slowly bleeding away. “Indelible” punches as the guitars glide in, digging and churning, unearthing gems beneath the earth. The bottom end chews as the playing glistens, melodies soaring as the bass swoops in and charges, emitting smoke. Guitars explore as your mind tingles, the final moments echoing out into oblivion. “Specific Resonance” is crunchy as it starts, with all elements building, leads bubbling with warmth, and then a calm washing over. The guitar work takes on a fuzzy, hazy feel, the moodiness thickening, catchy, dark waves cooling and overtaking you. The crunch returns in force and hits harder and muddier, beaming through clouds.

“Cascading Crescent” moves in fast and is thrashy, the guitars snarling and seething, the pace then easing suddenly and letting you have a breather. The playing then gallops, the guitars picking up steam and joining in a twin attack, everything ending abruptly. “Pining For Ever” dawns with lathering guitars and a dusky aura, making it feel like the earlier evening hours of the summer. The sounds tear into the sky, the guitars plotting before going into a dreamier sequence, trickling before it bursts through the gates. Emotion pulses as the sounds tingle, driving to a fiery finish. “Flickering Stillness” begins clean, circling around a jerky, grungy pathway, feeling moody and calmer, guitars spiraling and mesmerizing. The tempo ramps up as the waves crush the shores, melodies gusting as storms surface, only subsiding for a drone onslaught. Closer “Wandering Mind” starts ominously with bass chugging, the darkness heading into the shadows, a chilling, numbing feeling sending shivers. Guitars cut in as the sludginess multiplies, the sounds ramping up as the temperatures skyrocket, the bass bookending and slithering into space.

Pelican sound at full strength both musically and emotionally on “Flickering Resonance,” a wholly satisfying, imagination-inducing record that feels like the band is firing on all cylinders. That’s not just because the four originators are back together but also because they seem to have channeled something extra to keep their engine roaring. This album sounds like a triumph and a catharsis, a collection of songs that land perfectly near the beginning of summer, when it feels like this music will be at its emotional apex.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://runforcoverrecords.com/products/pelican-flickering-resonance

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

If the weather reflected how our society is feeling at this moment, the sun never would rise, thick black clouds would blanket the skies, and oxygen would be a burden to breathe into our lungs. I say this as it’s later in the spring with summer on the cusp, and never have things felt more bleak.

Death metal power Ossuary creates music that feel like that atmospheric heel turn, where everything is choking on soot, and misery is as plentiful as water. On the band’s suffocating debut record “Abhorrent Worship,” its members—vocalist/guitarist I, bassist M, drummer N—respond with metallic fury that feels like the earth opening up and gaining revenge on its inhabitants. At 6 tracks and 37 minutes, this offering is blunt, ashen, and devastating, an album that matches the time in which it’s released when hope is a fossil in the ground, and only tumult and violence seem to be in our future. 

“Volitional Entropy” opens the record pulsating with power, the heat rising as the guitars take their first swings, howls retching with bile. The playing pummels and sickens, the leads battering as the intensity spikes, every element suffocating and crushing until it disappears into a void. “Inborn Scourge Unbound” is muddy, nasty, and bloody, guitars drilling before the pace takes an unexpected bend, pained howls dressing the chaos in pain. The playing then slows and churns, the slower beating turning things more brutal and excruciating, squeezing the life out of you. “Forsaken Offerings (to the Doomed Spirit)” boils as the force drives hard, growls jab, and a flattening assault mashes everything in its path. The tempo grinds before coming back to hellacious life, unleashing infernal heaviness, choking with black smoke.

“Instinctual Prostration” is menacing as it chews its way in, destroying with sickening howls and a monstrous force that takes everything by storm. The playing unloads as the guitars breathe ash, the leads strike, and the misery bleeds into “The Undrownable Howl of Evil.” Here, the riffs swagger as a battering force gets under way, fiery guitars scorching flesh. The vocals warp as the power weighs down harder, the leads quiver, and a gasp of menacing darkness bleeds right into closer “Barren Lamentation” that opens in a boiling simmer. The pace is slow driving but heavy as the growls gurgle, and the force flattens, strangling with full strength. Darkness spreads as the pace clubs, ugliness oozing from every seam, the guitars fully engulfing. Blood is spattered as blasts dig deeper, fading into mystical reverberation.

Ossuary’s death metal is not for easy listening or as background music as you work, and making that mistake thinking that can cost you. “Abhorrent Worship” is a battering machine that weighs down heavily the entire time, letting you have gasps of hot air and ashes, guaranteeing it’ll choke you to tears. This is a massive slab of death that buries you deep within the soil, refusing to let you know anything but pain and misery ever again. 

For more on the band, go here: https://ossuary-death.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/ossuary-abhorrent-worship-gatefold-vinyl-poster/

Or here: https://darknessshallrise.de/?s=Ossuary&post_type=product&v=0b3b97fa6688

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

And here: https://darknessshallrise.de/news/?v=0b3b97fa6688