New York City long has been an inspiration and sometimes target for people when they think of the United States. The culture, the architecture, the history, and the arts overflow, feeling like it’s the real center point of the United States, a place people come to experience everything it has to offer. And it’s been the target of two high-profile terror attacks. There’s a reason for that.

The city long has inspired black metal trio Imperial Triumphant—vocalist/guitarist Zachary Ezrin, bassist/keyboard player Steve Blanco, drummer Kenny Grohowski—and on “Goldstar,” they continue to dig deeper into the city’s seamy history, the smoke and smog included. This is the band’s fourth consecutive look back at a very specific period for NYC, and if it feels like a strange fever dream from a century ago, you’re on the right track. The fact the band finds this much to mine from the city is astonishing, and they keep creating pieces that feel like they’re reaching out from the past, wrenching us with horrors and violence we can digest today. The record doesn’t delve terribly far from their past few releases that kicked off with 2018’s “Vile Luxury,” but there are twists and turns, new color palettes, and expanded sounds that prove they are growing along with this empire city. 

“Eye of Mars” opens already drubbing, a smeary path mixing with keys and Ezrin’s roars that explode out of the speakers. Things are zany, which is typical for this band, with some end-of-days horns aching, and then the trudging gets heavier, the bass grows rubbery, and cosmic winds chill after a total combustion. “Gomorrah Nouveaux” starts with rhythmic claps and the drumming playing along, crushing with sooty growls, delirious gusts, and the bass again flexing its steely muscles. Organs breeze as the pace engulfs anew, the bass slapped as the smoke rises, guitars sprawling and swallowing everything into the sewage systems. “Lexington Delirium” features Meshuggah drumming beast Tomas Haake, and it starts clean and elegant as distant sirens cry, eerie strangeness bubbling before the growls erupt. Again, the bass playing is very active, and even a brief breath of calm explodes into savagery, sailing into a cosmic bath, returning to crush wholly. “Hotel Sphinx” turns up the insanity, leads sweeping as crazed cries penetrate, the guitars warping and snarling, weirdness at every corner. Whirry synth chills and gives off science lab vibes, and then it combusts, a children choir chanting, the end balanced in filth. “NEWYORKCITY” is a brutal shock, a blinding, almost grind-like destroyer with Yoshiko Ohara (of the great Bloody Panda) attacking, shrieking, and warbling as your brain tries to hang on for dear life.

The title track plays like an old time radio ad, harmonized singing calling the praises of Goldstar brand cigarettes, urging, “Die for Goldstar.” And you will! “Rot Moderne” squeezes your temples as the pace goes for broke, your brain melting along with the bass smoking, and the guitars chewing and bubbling with electricity. Start/stop mangling bruises our extremities while an unsettling force sends vibrations, the playing spitting sparks. “Pleasuredome” features the legendary Dave Lombardo (ex-Slayer, Mr. Bungle) as well Haake, sirens signaling trouble as the ambiance churns. The playing then drives into your heart, bells chiming in loops, howls reverberating, and the rhythm bashing your skull into concrete. A haunting aura builds as molten thrashing lays waste, sounds fading into the steam. Closer “Industry of Misery” lets keys drip before everything ignites, guitars knifing as the tempo challenges your stomach contents, hypnosis mixing with a thickening smoke cloud. The melodies continue to make the room spin, fiery jolts landing blows to your ribcage, the city vermin circling you and taking you deep underground.

Imperial Triumphant’s journey into the center of a city long since decayed into something else remains as ashen and energetic on “Goldstar,” a trim, muscular beast that aims to throw you from the top of the Chrysler building. The band’s fixation with this subject matter might grow weary after time, but it’s clear these guys have so much more inspiration and devastation to pack into their music that continues to morph into a different being each time out. This is another fascinating vision from one of the most challenging bands in all black metal. And metal in general.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.imperial-triumphant.com/

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://centurymedia.store/pages/imperial-triumphant-gold-star

Or here (Europe): https://www.cmdistro.de/

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

It’s been an awfully productive year for darkness and morbidity, and it’s still fucking March! The weather is getting warmer, the sun is out longer, and for some reason, the malaise cannot be overcome. For good reason. Evil walks the earth. Rules it in many parts. So excuse us if we aren’t feeling it. 

So it’s as fitting a time as ever to get a record crusher from Hungarian death/doom power Rothadás, that being “Töviskert… a kísértés örök érzete… lidércharang.” I don’t speak the language, and Google translate gave me “Thorn Garden … the Eternal Feeling of Temptation … Ghostly Harangue,” and yeah, that about captures the tone of this six-track beast. The two-headed monster consisting of vocalist/drummer Lambert Lédeczy, guitarist/bassist Tobir Hanyi pours a ton of morbid tones, deathly power, and ghastly doom over 45 minutes that’ll you’ll feel in every cell. Oh, and don’t let any language barrier scare you. Even if you’re not aware of what they’re saying (wailing?) the feel is there, and you can’t help but be captured by the harrowing tones and immersive journey into darkness.

“Urnaszellem… szentek csontpora” opens in a doomy cloud, sinking your feelings, the death strains coming on like blades. The pace then pummels, turning fiery and crushing, the guitars ache, and the vocals sicken with guttural sour. The playing then pulverizes, engulfing you in hell, the guitars melting into the soil. “Vértükör” drubs as the growls boil, sludge and muck combine to clog veins, and the guitars heat up and knife through the chaos. The pace dizzies as the growls engorge, everything chugging through a massive heat wave that wilts wills. “Sóhajok kapuja” churns and drubs, the doomy death thickening as speed picks up and makes your heart race. Sickened howls lash out as the pressure mounts, raw fury digs in its fingers, and mesmerizing tones make the growls feel like they’ve come from a dream state to rupture your psyche.

“Tetemek tava… lidércek tánca” opens already crushing with its weight, heated riffs encircling as the band achieves a dangerous level of death crush, if that’s a real thing. Then things devolve into slow-driving filth, calculated hell, and the guitars amplifying the misery before melting away. “Sikoltó füst” has guitars chewing and stomping, the growls hazing, and a bizarre glaze spread over everything. If it feels like your mind is melting, you’re not alone as riffs destroy and tear everything apart, and the steam rises, reddening your flesh along the way. Closer “Az örök isten Lucifer” slowly churns, growls rumbling through airy playing, the well eventually bursting as everything overflows with ferocity. Death mauls as the pace gets angrier and more monstrous, generating a fog that chokes and settles into an eerie cleanliness. There’s even a gothy feel blowing through before the guitars sting, strange singing bellows, and sounds fade in a pit of darkness. 

“Töviskert… a kísértés örök érzete… lidércharang” will stomp your face and psyche in short order, and their numbing pile of doom and death metal is a suffocating and depressing. Rothadás have a might and penchant for misery that digs deep inside of you, leaving you blackened. This is a  beastly album that leverages all of its weight and never relents from making the experience flatten you for the better.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/rothadas-toviskert-a-kisertes-orok-erzete-lidercharang-lp/

Or here: https://store.pulverised.net/

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

And here: https://www.pulverised.net/

Death metal has this strange thing about it where the subgenre seems to grow exponentially each year and also stays the same as it was when its roots popped through the rotting earth. Simplistically, that means a lot of bands have taken the sound elsewhere, while we still have a nice slate of artists that find the graveyards and swamps home.

Michigan death squad Throne is kind of the best of both worlds, which they prove on their great second record “That Who Sat Upon Him, Was Death.” I’ll ignore that weird comma. The band—vocalist/guitarist Nathan Barnes, lead guitarist Tim Kenefic, bassist Leslie Drake, drummer Kollin Perpignani—definitely has their bloodied, muddied boots with the original crop of death metal bands that inspired a movement, but they also have a lot of modern flourishes to their sound, so it’s a nice variety. Plus, this record is brutal to the core and properly melodic, with the vocals particularly coming off as gruesome and unforgiving. Over eight tracks and 30 minutes, they serve up a beating that’s sized just right, leaving you fulfilled yet morbidly wanting more. 

“Disentombed” opens with guitars in full attack mode, brutality retching as the growls take hold and squeeze maniacally. The howls are mixed with shrieks, giving off a Trevor Strnad vibe (this is present throughout the record), and then the drums slaughter, the guitars rise and raise the temperature, and a battering force tears everything away. “To Breathe the Unknown” opens calmy, but it’s not long until ferocity ignites, the growls choking as guitars chug, speed becoming a greater factor. The riffs race as monstrous, gross grinding eats at you, the guitars enrolling into full corrosion. “Blasphemous Perversion” has the bass plodding and guitars bursting, the growls going guttural as all elements mangle. The pace trudges as the heat builds dangerously, guitars soar, and menacing snarls bury your face in the dirt. “Realm of Immolation” has guitars hovering like vultures, the drums powdering bones, and your senses smashed completely. The growls warp as the drumming again aims to loosen teeth, the pace speeding toward a final gasp of menace.

“Human Frailty” races from the gates, penetrating your mind, hammering away as the growls retch and choke. The guitars get thick and humid, turning into a deathlike haze, the riffs lathering with foamy blood, a brain-erasing pace picking up and leading to complete destruction. “Upon Deathless Winds” opens with guitars dashing, savage blazing taking hold, and the growl/shriek combo once again tearing out nerves. A molten pace explodes, everything coming unglued, and senses get blistered, all amid some rather melodic lead lines that make the bruising feel oddly comforting. “Behold Impurity” unleashes drums that decimate, growls and screams that maim, and a splattering attack that digs in its claws. The guitars pick up the pace as it feels like skulls are being dragged across rocky terrain, the playing rushes, and the vocals sink the dagger into your chest. Closer “Where Angels Cower in Fear” dashes as the guitars strangle, and the tempo feels like it’s going for broke. The vocals scrape more flesh as the guitars take on a Scandinavian vibe, the leads electrifying, the direction shifting violently, a final, sudden burst blasting away.

Throne’s death metal comes at you like a prowling beast, taking you down with hardly a moment’s notice on “That Who Sat Upon Him, Was Death.” This is one of those records that should register with the death metal old guard as well as people who dine on carnage from the past decade, with the overlap of those two audiences seemingly a harmonious one. This is a motherfucker of a record that will take you down and give you a thorough beating that strangely satisfies in the end. 

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

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

Or here: https://redefiningdarkness.8merch.com/

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

There are records that are a collection of songs that work as a tandem, the assembled work or an artist or artists that fit together. There are others that feel like events, communal expressions, voices sent out to the stars, often a combination of those factors, and when they land, they live beyond a creative cycle. They’re beings.

Rwake have been gone a long time. It’s been 14 years since “Rest” roused our metallic souls, and if you put that album on today (I actually just did) it sounds as fresh and vital as the day it was born. The Arkansas-based band, that’s as much a close-knit family as they are a musical outfit, finally are back with us on sixth record “The Return of Magick,” a brute force dashed with psychedelic colors and an unbreakable bond with the cosmos and nature. This is one of those event records. This six-track, 54-minute excursion has the band sounding as full of life as ever before, and perhaps that break helped this group—vocalists C.T. (who also handles words and themes) and Brittany (also on keys), guitarists Austin and John (lap and pedal steel, 12-string bass), bassist Reid, drummer Jeff (who also handles acoustic guitars and 12-string bass)—explodes through these songs that will test you mind and body and hopefully connect you to something greater than just the music. This is one of the best records yet, and I adore their back catalog. But this one is stuck on repeat, and I don’t see that changing.

“You Swore We’d Always Be Together” opens ominously with clean guitars flowing, accordion landing softly, and then the thing rips, growls and shrieks sounding wonderfully scorched, pedal steel adding a syrupy emotional heft, warm leads battling with the sludge. Screams penetrate again, guitars trucking as the playing spills, everything subsiding in an electric haze. The title track wastes no time, trucking with furious cries, the intensity hammering as the guitars wrapped like a cord, compromising your blood flow, C.T delivering spoken messages, “To all the witches in the woods, and to the goblins that understood, there is a spirit that walks among us, and it is living proof.” The speaking melts into warm guitars and long, immersive passages, C.T. later declaring, “It’s the return of magic in a crystal fucking palace, beyond biology and beyond all traits.” Dual guitars wrest control as howls recharge and sneer, shadows dripping blood as the fury slowly fades away. “With Stardust Flowers” punches its way in, vile shrieks hammering, punishment dealt with an even hand, the flow eventually growing calmer and more reflective. “Time is our great cosmic conductor,” C.T. warbles, “nothing escapes the song or spell we are under. Built from stardust sustained by cosmic ingredients, every cell is linked to an earlier stream of consciousness.” Guitars splash more colors before draining, tingling, and then everything speeds up suddenly, strains rushing through a mud stream, blistering and bleeding out.

“Distant Constellations and the Psychedelic Incarceration” is the longest track here at 13:56, and the opening is narrated by Jim “Dandy” Mangrum of the great Black Oak Arkansas. This is a segment that feels like an elder uncovering great wisdom from a wormhole in the past, echoing to the present and future. Acoustics and strings rise, guitars set their path, and wind whips, C.T. and Brittany trading lines that mash reflective with ferocious. The whole thing turns back into the darkness, feeling through chugging guitars and mashing rhythms, shrieks then exploding as if from hell. That temperature spike continues and ravages through maiming insanity that drains your mind dry. “In After Reverse” is warped before it guts, animalistic howls digging in their heels, doomy vibes rippling through the earth. The hypnosis takes on a greater hand, C.T. calling, “Vibrations alone, illusive emotion, the orchestra clocked, foundation in symphony, the atomic fate, a conducted crustacean, influence the state and conduct a rotation.” Spacey echo takes over as the playing recharges, the riffs storm, and the shrieks unravel, everything blistering and spiking the heat, eventually fading into a comic psychedelic cavern. Outro piece “Φ” has pianos dripping, acoustics teaming with pedal steel glaze, and the final embers fading into a scorched sunset.

Having Rwake back in our midst is a gift in and of itself, and the fact that “The Return of Magick” is such a triumph is a testament to this familial unit. There is darkness packed into these songs for sure, but there also are plenty of strains of optimism and reminders that we’re more than just being in flesh suits. We have our minds, the universe, and, yes, magic, all elements that can push us beyond mere existence into something with even more meaning than what this earth can provide.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/collections/rwake-the-return-of-magik

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

We are in an era where people take things too seriously in metal. Let me back up a second. I’m not saying musicians should not take their craft seriously. They very much should. But the ability to let loose from preconceived actions and just be free as a listener seems like it needs a recalibration. It’s OK to have a good time.

No doubt Sanhedrin are deadly serious about that they do, but taking on their music isn’t exactly dipping your head into a swirl of current events and content that will remind of what ails you. The band—vocalist/bassist Erica Stoltz, guitarist/backing vocalist Jeremy Sosville, drummer Nathan Honor—hearkens back a few decades to when heavy metal was largely summer music, stuff to blast as you guzzle a beer or 40 and forget the bullshit. On their fourth record “Heat Lightning,” they very much remain in that headspace, creating music that’s an escape, something to get your blood flowing. These nine cuts feel like they could have originated in the mid-1980s and caused no one at that time to question its origin, and it’s a blast to hear, especially with warmer weather approaching. Not that it also doesn’t sound amazing in the dead of winter! 

“Blind Wolf” jumps from the gates, guitars smoking with classic metal heat, Stoltz’s tough singing belting you across the face. “Now the wolf in you is mine,” she calls, the playing charging with authoritative strength, the guitars blazing away. The title track tingles the senses, and the pace pulls back a little, the verses numbing before sparks fly on the chorus. Guitars come to life as the pace catches fire, the chorus blasting back before warm riffs wash everything away. “Above the Law” is aggressive as Stoltz snarls, the guitars snaking, and gang-shouted vocals striking over the chorus. The intensity remains, crushing as the soloing goes off, great energy snapping back and ending the attack slashing away at limbs. “The Fight of Your Life” pays homage to those who could not resist the call to play music for a living, the band answering that call again with power and glory, churning and creating metallic flashes. “Hey friend, where you going with that ax in your hand?” Stoltz calls, “I’m going to cut your throat!” Soloing smears as the heat continues to rise, finally fading into darkness.

“King of Tides” has the guitars coating, and a darker, more calculated pace, the humidity picking up noticeably. “We’ll have to bend them to our wills,” Stoltz howls, the guitars engulfing with fiery passion, a dark finish ending in crackling flames. “Franklin County Line” is inspired by Sosville’s hometown in northern New York, creating a song about the local Amish population that goes off the rails. “Smoking and drinking and fornicating,” Stoltz wails, the winds of youthful expression and experimentation whipping, the guitars charring to a blinding finish. “Let’s Spill Some Blood” has guitars jolting and the singing a little more restrained. “Let’s show the world what we’re made of,” Stoltz declares, with revenge in the air, guitars spreading their wings, and the call of, “What you reap is what you sow,” landing the dagger. “High Threshold for Pain” has guitars clashing and the bass driving, the singing rising over the top of a bubbling cauldron. The leads numb before slashing back, the simple, yet effective chorus washing over. Closer “When the Will Becomes the Chain” has guitars swaggering and the band setting the mood, Stoltz wailing, “Swallow the sword from hilt to blade.” The bulk of the song is mid-tempo but channeled, the bass plodding as guitars simmer, letting the steam waft dangerously. The chorus returns for another stomp, and then the playing boils and burns, the darkness swallowing everything whole.

“Heat Lightning” has the band firing on all cylinders and sounding refreshed, not that their previous work was showing any sign of strain. Sanhedrin fit in a perfect sweet spot that pulls in both rock and metal fans, and there is plenty of fire here to keep you fully engaged. This record is an easy repeat listen, especially with the warmer months coming, when this type of album will hit its emotional peak.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.sanhedrin.nyc/

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

Or here (Europe): https://eu.kingsroadmerch.com/metal-blade

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

We talk a lot about live being disrupted because we lived through a half-decade of tumult, and this country is, yet again, in the strangulating throes of evil. But pain didn’t just begin with a pandemic. For many people, the blood and tears have been flowing for much longer, and the trail toward recovery is rockier.

We haven’t heard from Canadian sludge power Pyres since 2013, a whole lifetime ago, it seems. Think how much the world has changed since then, and not always for the better (actually usually not for the better). The band—vocalist/guitarist Andrew Wilson, guitarist Marc Delparte, bassist Devin LaMere, drummer Aleks Hara—arrived with “Year of Sleep” 12 years ago, and then things went horribly off the rails. Wilson’s sister was lost to a murder/suicide, and then his father passed away. Real-life shit. The band continued to play, and then the pandemic hit, the lineup shuffled, and all the trauma hit home. Luckily for the band, and us, they regrouped and created “Yun,” a record that helps Wilson and the group parse through loss, pain, grief, and frustration and shows Pyres completely reborn. It’s a record that gets more powerful each listen and could connect with people suffering through the similar circumstances.

“Mononeurvosa” opens slowly, guitars coming to life, swinging through gravelly growls  and sludgy smoke. The guitars then ramp up and torch, throaty howls pounding away, clean, yet gritty singing lashing, the grime building before blasting out. “Some, Not All, Came Back” has guitars snaking through strange tributaries, the singing pushing into melodic, yet abrasive waves. Riffs sweep, and a Southern rock feel emerges, the playing growing more spacious, your mind tingling in your skull, a ridig burst embracing burly corners. “A Depth Charge in a Dead Sea” runs 12:59, and it begins solemnly, meandering through dreamy calm, softer singing emerging before getting thornier. Howls explode as the pace continues to grow, atmospheric sludge draining over everything, the vocals stretching and battering, guitars gaining intensity. Then we’re back to serene waters, the guitars soaring slowly like light beams through thick clouds, an emotional gaze basking in sun-splashed waves.

“Granular Flow” has drums splattering and the guitars coming to life, giving off a High on Fire feel. Abrasive singing meets with swaggering guitars, soloing erupting and blazing harder, a throaty chorus landing blows before a smashing finish. “Nova Cruciatus” has the drums rousing, guitars creating smoke pillars, and a barnstorming force taking hold. The playing chugs and leans into shimmery passages, group singing makes blood rush, and molten energy spits chaos. “Lineage” has strong riffs and roaring singing, Wilson wailing, “Break this bloodline, break the chains.” The pace keeps getting faster and more volatile, laying waste and choking your lungs with soot. Closer “Old Dogs” pulls back a bit, feeling clean and reflective, though the singing is tougher, Wilson insisting, “Tears won’t bring them home.” Bass plods as the guitars gush emotion, melting into a fog that soothes your mind. The playing gets burlier as a tidal wave of emotions crash, the drums ignite, and everything lifts deep into outer space. 

“Yun” is both a bloodletting and an exercise in catharsis, with Pyres pouring every ounce of themselves into this record. It’s been a long time coming, this album, and so much has happened since we last heard from this band, it would be easy to understand if it went off the rails and meandered. Yet they found restraint and ways to express this into a nicely served record that’s impactful, doomy as hell, and gushing with power and strength.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://hypaethralrecords.com/collections/pyres

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

A decade ago, I was changing my career entirely, starting at a new job that I still have to this day. Well, not the same role. Same company. You get it. It’s a long time and a short time. It feels like those days went flashing by at times, and at others, it feels like a lifetime ago. A pandemic, personal losses, and a world upheaval also happened in that span, which changed everything we know about the world.

Ten years ago also was the last time we got a full-length from traditional metal power Christian Mistress, that being 2015’s “To Your Death.” Then everything went silent with the band for a long, long time. Then, a few years ago, some shows got announced. Something was brewing, and that arrives with their fourth album “Children of the Earth.” While the band itself may have been active the last decade, this album conscience has been taking it all in like a sponge, with the words sounding as informed and vital as ever. The band—vocalist Christine Davis, guitarist/bassist Jonny Wulf, guitarist Tim Diedrich, drummer Reuben Storey—sounds like they never missed a day, delivering eight tracks over 33 minutes that pump with passion and fury that can swallow you into their world. There’s also a message about the enormity of the universe in which we live, and how we’re a minuscule part of the story, having such a tiny time to make a mark.

“City of Gold” opens shrouded in guitar smoke, Davis’ leathery singing voice reminding us just why we fell in love with this band in the first place. There’s great energy here, a fiery chorus, Davis calling, ” One shot rang out, the hand of fate denied, two feet, run away and hide,” as a big finish gets blood rushing. “Voiceless” has strong leads and a defiance, showing a drive to stand up for those who cannot. “Use your voice, it’s what you got,” David pushes to those who have the ability, the guitars churning. Leads then blaze even harder, the spirit taking up arms, Davis asking, “What would the voiceless say?” as the final moments scorch. “Demon’s Night” has snarling riffs, the singing sparking emotion, the pace shifting as the melodies get catchier. The soloing has a nice vintage edge to it, letting nostalgia boil, and over that Davis calls, “I was left for dead, I was out in the cold, oh if this is the end let it begin.” “Love of the World” weighs the evils of society for one’s passion for the planet, riffs swaggering and driving, Davis admitting this feeling is “the only thing that keeps me engaged.” The chorus bubbles with strength, even in its simplicity, and as it repeats, the fervor grows in your heart, the ills of existence melting away just a bit.

“Mythmaker” is a killer, a righteous metal battle gem that reminds of Dio’s classics, and it starts with guitars chewing and Davis weaving through, commanding, “They say come see if it’s right for you, dance to death on the other side,” before declaring, “You are the mythmaker!” The idea of you being your own visionary is loud and clear, especially when she prods, “Create your story,” before a jarring end. “Death Blade” has a Van Halen-like start, which instantly gets the juices flowing, holding swords aloft and refusing surrender. “Give them hell when they come for you,” she belts, the guitars taking flight again, the drums driving through your chest cavity. “Lake of Memory” gives off some Thin Lizzy vibes with the twin guitars attacking, and this track is where we get our album title with Davis calling, “We are children of the earth! We are children of the stars and sky!” which is the command to find said lake in the realm of Hades in the afterlife. Guitars then slink as the drumming activates, putting a blistering end on this tale. Closer “Shadow” is an end-of-record standout, Davis a cappella singing, “Tonight, we could be gods in the Pantheon, we could be anything,” which should light a heavy metal fire in your heart. The track is rousing and glorious, a song that reignites passions and brings new converts to the fold as the band makes your journey limitless, your mind an open ground for creation, the possibility of victory apparent.

It’s so great to have Christian Mistress back in our orbit, and while 10 years gone seems like a long time (especially considering what that decade contained), they fit right back in the pocket on “Children of the Earth.” It’s easy to place the vintage tag on them, as has been the case since they first arrived, but they have so much more than that. They have a heart and humanity that we need right now, as well as a prevailing spirit that reminds us not to give in to our oppressors. Plus they boil heavy metal down to its original form in a genuine and powerful way that only this band can harness.

For more on the band, go here: https://christianmistress.bandcamp.com/album/children-of-the-earth

To buy the album, go here: https://www.cruzdelsurmusic.com/store/index.php?route=product/search&search=CHRISTIAN%20MISTRESS&description=true

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

How are you feeling right about now? Good? Nah. Unless you’re slopping all of the latest events like a hungry pig starving for fascism, you got to be pretty sick about now. It’s hard to hold any hope. That’s kind of the point. They don’t want you to have hope. But why do they get to win? We don’t roll over for that shit, even when they demand we show our bellies.

The four artists who make up Guiltless certainly are aware of everything and have been living in this strange, dangerous time, and their debut full length “Teeth to Sky” addresses some of this. Though maybe not in a way you might expect. See, there are ways to control our own narratives, to find solace, so find peace, to turn off the noise. Here, the band—vocalist/guitarist Josh Graham, guitarist Dan Hawkins, bassist Sacha Dunable, drummer Billy Graves—refuses to give in to the negativity and use their combination of doom, post-metal, and black metal to carve out a different path. These guys have backgrounds in other groups such as Neurosis, Intronaut, A Storm of Light, and plenty others, and they bring that energy and knowledge to create a pummeling, yet nicely portioned record that still lashes back at the power structures but also tries to urge the listeners to rise above that and fight for the lives we choose to live.  

“Into Dust Becoming” opens in guitar squall, leading to bruising howls and the ground being crushed, Graham calling, “Are we really alive? Were we ever alive?” That pace keeps pushing with force, grime hanging overhead, the pace staying punching and bruising. “One Is Two” opens with throaty cries and sinewy guitars, everything feeling muscular and smoky. The heat increases as the tempo drubs minds, a steely and humid gasp reverberating into oblivion. “In Starless Reign” brings barometric pressure as the bass quivers, and yowled vocals bend your will, the guitars digging deeper into wounds. The wails get throatier as steady blows land, mixing into darker, filthier terrain as Graham calls, “Where we’re from and where we’ll go!” “Our Serpent in Circle” has sounds surrounding as the piece develops, slowly landing blows that still have massive impact. Vocals drive as the ambiance turns harder toward doom fires, the intensity increasing and spitting, Graham repeatedly wailing, “When we fall,” as everything ends in tingling detachment.

The title track has the bass coiling and jarring, howls pummeling, the feel going a little psychedelic before getting meatier. Cleaner singing and spoken bits swim through your head as blood surges, the guitars carve new tributaries, and everything bows to corrosion. “Lone Blue Vale” enters amid a strange sheen, guitars churning as the vocals dig in their fingers, the pace trudging and fucking with your balance. The power increases as the pressure feels like it’s squeezing your skull, a synth cloud emerging and whipping everything into darkness. “Landscape of Thorns” has layered screams and a forceful gust, driving as the howls smear, and sootiness collects underfoot. The riffs get fuzzier before turning bloodier, combusting to a smoldering end. Closer “Illumine” is the longest track, running 7:06 and entering amid bass flexing and a deliberate attack designed to mete out optimal heat. Guitars murmur as everything turns more menacing, screams belting flesh, a vicious force multiplying before suddenly fading.

“Teeth to Sky” holds a message that might be hard for a lot of us to embrace right now as political and societal upheaval peel back our mental wounds, but that’s a good thing. We’re still alive and we still have possibilities in front of us, and giving up on those is a form of surrender that we do not have to offer. Guiltless have be here to pummel with their sounds, but they also remind us to fight for what we have and appreciate every breath because that’s a form of power that the corrupt worldly leaders will have to pry away from us.

For more on the band, go here: https://guiltless.bandcamp.com/album/teeth-to-sky

To buy the album, go here: https://music.neurotrecordings.com/guiltless-album.oem

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

An escape would be good about now, something to take us somewhere where the tidal waves of horrors can’t get to us, and we can actually breathe for a second. Despite how chaotic and angering things may be right now, having a means to not get caught up in the onslaught of news might be the only means to stay sane.

Not sure The Grey had that idea in mind when creating “Kodok,” their third record, but I’ll be damned if that isn’t what they conjured. The UK-based doom-influenced, earth-quaking trio finds ways to make cinematic bends that lap with volcanic eruptions, and it has a means of creating imagery in your head, transporting you someone else, if only for about 42 minutes. Another interesting thing about this band—guitarist Charlie Gration, bassist Andy Price, drummer Steve Moore—is their expanse sonically. Yes, they still hold on to the tenets that brought them here, but with even more imagination and fire than before, with a few special guests sprinkled in to give this even more life (even if it’s marred in, uh, grey).  

“Painted Lady” opens in burly power, a thick fog covering everything but letting small holes open for light to beam through them. The playing buzzes and burns before doomier trudging takes hold, thickening the moodiness as the guitars stream toward reddened skies. The leads soar gently before digging back in, the final moments expiring in exhaust. “La Bruja (Cygnus)” has the drums rousing, guitars chugging, and a chunkier, beefier attack mounted, the pressure peaking and then fading. The pace picks back up and turns steely, voices warble as if from a dream, and a shadowy, liquidy center melts, brushing with space before re-engaging with brutality. “Sharpen The Knife” features vocals from Grady Avenell (Will Haven), and his voice adds mucky grit to a steamy gaze of energy. Avenel goes from shrieks to guttural growls, hammering away as a strange aura is achieved, only to disintegrate in thin air. 

“CHVRCH” is quiet and reflective when it opens, guitars swelling and dashing, creating a sort of Pelican-style vibe. The pace picks up and immediately feels more dangerous, digging into muscle before pulling back again, letting blurry visions cloud your sight, shrieks gutting through glimmering keys. The vocals continue to bruise extremities as the playing pounds and mesmerizes, slipping into a dream state. “Don’t Say Goodbye” is a total change of pace, a lighter, more emotional piece built with clean guitars and raw reflection. Ricky Warwick’s (Black Star Riders) singing should soothe, but there’s hurt lying in the words as he first sings, “Don’t say goodbye unless you’re leaving,” repeatedly, with the final refrain ending with, “Unless you mean it.” Closer “AFG” features guitarist Ace from Skunk Anansie and Chris Hargreaves (fattybassman), and it’s a jerky, gazey piece that feels oddly calming in spots, moving toward the drums coming to life, stick taps making blood boil. An encircling atmosphere arrives, hulking pounding makes the earth shiver, and steam rises and threatens before dissipating into the air.

The Grey expand their sound into even newer areas with “Kodok,” a record that took me a few tries before it finally set in, and when it did, it was a pretty satisfying jolt. Sure, there might be very little left that’s new under the sun, and this band does delve into well-traveled post-metal and doom pathways, but they inject a sense of adventure and personality into the music that lets it create its own narrative. This experimentation paid off for the band, and hopefully they continue to explore underneath more surfaces the next time around. 

For more on the band, go here: https://thegrey2.bandcamp.com/album/kodok

To buy the album, go here: https://www.majesticmountainrecords.com/products/the_grey_kodok-preorder

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

I always see splits in two different ways. First, it’s a vehicle for two bands to put together music that may or may not fit together that lets the listener take smaller adventures with each. The other way is a tidy introduction to newcomers for bands that might not yet have hit their radar that doesn’t require them to digest an entire album’s worth of material.

Today we have a crushing 4-track split from two single-creator black metal outfits that are coming off well-received, impactful full-length albums (both made our top 40 last year) and are looking to build on that momentum. Or I’m complicating things and it’s a way for two like-minded artists to share a record and continue to warp black metal to their wills. Genital Shame hails from Pittsburgh and is helmed by Erin Dawson, and 2024’s “Chronic Illness Wish” is one that remains in my rotation on my office turntable. Joining her on this effort is Lust Hag, commanded by Eleanor, who released a self-titled LP last year that was a fiery statement that opened a lot of eyes and ears, mine included. Both artists are trans women in a space where there isn’t always acceptance and in a society that’s attacking these people for no good reason other than fucking fear. Long may both artists/bands run.

Genital Shame’s portion opens with “Notes Are My Friends” which is spacious and airy when it opens, a bit of a departure from the “Chronic Illness Wish” but an interesting one. Clean notes drip as Dawson’s howls reverberate through an acoustic wash and warm leads. Things then feel like heavy hypnosis as keys shimmer, a cosmic push envelops, and the final hellish vocals mix with a delicate haze. “War on Cars” starts with vile howls, pounding that leaves bruising, and heat that rises as vile darkness sinks in its teeth. The guitars darken as the madness opens fully, the leads scaling as the growls retch, the pace numbing, and everything washing away into freezing cold waters.

Lust Hag’s part starts with “Everything Ends” that dawns in an ominous atmosphere, a spacey coldness digesting, the feeling of isolation spreading, and then the drums exploding. Fiery chaos ignites, shrieks attack, and the leads slay, pushing you to the limits mentally as echo smears over a vicious finish. “Another Loss” brings unfurling riffs, fast and blinding motion, howls buried underneath the carnage that still have full impact. The playing drills harder, full demolition blazing, feral cries wounding with the thrashy pace. The pace turns channeled and even heavier, the guitars light up, and the final spiral leaves the room spinning out of control.

This is a really fitting combination of bands on this split as Genital Shame and Lust Hag create black metal that exists in new realms and realities that maintain the subgenre’s spirit but bend it to their liking. Both bands also seem bound to continue to push their sounds into dark regions, and this release could be a hint at where each project is headed next. This also could serve as a nice appetizer for anyone new to these hellish forces who’d like a little taste before fully diving into the sea of blades. 

For more on Genital Shame the band, go here: http://genitalshame.bandcamp.com/

For more on Lust Hag, go here: https://eleanorharper.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/music

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