Being fucking old, I remember when heavy guitar rock ruled many stations on the radio. Oh, we used to listen to the radio a lot. We didn’t have streaming services, so when we wanted to hear our favorite jams, we either had to shell out money for the record or wait to hear it on the radio.

Scorpion Child is as throwback to the era, and yeah, this is also said in their bio, but it made me think of that immediately before I ever read the press materials. That means I’m right. The Austin-based band operates on the outer edges of metal, though four decades ago they’d be lumped right in, and on their third album “I Saw the End as It Passed Right Through Me” they get you charged up early and often. Over eight tracks and 37 minutes, the band—vocalist Aryn Jonathan Black, guitarists Asa Allen Savage and Adrian Arostone, bassist Garth Condit, drummer Ryan Henderson—drives forcefully, bringing heavy rock that practically is designed for the heat, though it sounds pretty good here in the winter.

“Be the Snake” is a rousing opener with guitar generating heat and hand drumming encircling before things come to life. The riffs lead as the simple, but sticky chorus dominates, soloing bubbling out of that, sending blood pressures skyrocketing. “Actress” starts mystically and then gets burly, the singing pushing as the bass drives. The melodies hit overdrive as the guitars swim and storm, flowing into energetic tidal waves, Black repeating, “Such a lonely life,” as the final sparks wash out. “Outliers” brings glimmering guitars, making things feel mildly psychedelic before the power ignites. Things get heavier and punchier, the calls of, “Long way, it’s a long way,” rushing your brain. The soloing ramps up and scorches, ripping anew before heading into “See the Shine” that’s grittier with the vocals following suit. The pace is more mid-tempo than what precedes it, and there are darker, echo-rich corners that haunt. Guitars then smoke and charge, gaining momentum as the vocals pick up the steam again, landing bigger body blows as your lights fade.

“The Starker” starts with drums encircling, guitars gliding, and the bass flexing as the temperature slowly rises. The intensity picks up and carries over into reverbed guitars, giving off a slight Rush feel, the clouds gathering and increasing shadows. “Wired Corpse” opens with the vocals driving, Black’s voice getting raspier and reminding a bit of Billy Squier. Group commands of, “Shut up!” send jolts as the soloing catches fire and coats with smoke, with Black declaring, “I’m high and still alive!” “Godskin” pulls back musically but not emotionally, as Black stabs, “You let us die, it’s a genocide.” Guitars swell as the calculated pace pushes into icy ambiance, everything else bursting at the seams with twin leads obscuring vision. Closer “Hanging Sun” starts with winds blowing, acoustics entering, the singing scraping as a softer, rustic edge develops. Clean guitars glow as crows caw, and a weird exhaust pushes through and ends with crackling fires.

Scorpion Child definitely feel like a band landing many years past when this style of music was popular, but oddly that makes them kind of refreshing in this era. “I Saw the End as It Passed Right Through Me” cuts could end up on your local classic rock station and fit right in, though it would stand out for being a little heavier than the rest of their playlist. This is a fun, fiery record that pays no mind to trends or expectations and just fucking goes for it.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://scorpionchild.bandcamp.com/album/i-saw-the-end-as-it-passed-right-through-me

Not every heavy metal record greets you with blood-surging excitement, ready to bathe you in the glory of an art form that misunderstood by so many. That’s OK, by the way. Some albums and bands serve up misery, or death, or total blackness, sometimes a combination of all of those. Still, it’s nice when one kicks you in the ass with ferocity and fervor.

Long-running Viking metal band Ereb Altor is one that never pulls back on the melodic tidal wave while still maintaining a thorny exterior. On their great 10^th record “Hälsingemörke,” the Swedes add to their lore with seven tracks of molten gusts that mix power, classic metal, death and black metal to their hammer-wielding attack. Longtime listeners know this is nothing new, but they tighten their assault and leave their edges as razor sharp as ever as the band—vocalist/guitarist Mats, guitarist/vocalist Ragnar, bassist/vocalist Björn, drummer Tord—unleashes something that could bring together followers of Iron Maiden and Bathory alike. On top of that, they just keep getting better and more nuanced.

“Valkyrian Fate” charges out of the gates with mighty melodies and powerful singing, the calls of, “In times of fire, in times of war,” ricocheting off the inside of your skull. Warm leads lap as vicious shrieks enter, laying waste even as other colors surround, a blast of energetic fire taking you to the finish. The title track opens with clean leads that meld with ferocity, the vocals coming in their native tongue. The playing is sweltering as the melodies surge, gushing through mighty singing and a sweltering chorus, the energy sending seismic waves that drive to a massive crescendo. “Ättestupan” charges and chugs, mystical synth wafting to create a fantastical element, immersive playing thickening the moodiness. Darkness swells and the playing pummels, an enthralling force pushing back hard as the song comes to a spirited end.

“Vi Är Mörkret” starts clean before it bursts, strong singing and scathing howling uniting, guitars lathering and daring. Shouts rouse as fiery madness sprawls, the pace stampeding as the singing soars, the drums gut, and everything fades into the cold. “Träldom” has guitars burning and gruff vocals, blunt force mixing with melodic gusts to increase the impact. The power charges as clean singing smokes, speed taking on greater importance, energetic thrashing making heart rates spike before a blazing ending. “The Waves, the Sky and the Pyre” starts with vocal chants and then heads straight into a murky haze, slowly dripping as the playing drives a dagger, the bass chugging muscularly. Group calls rouse as shots land through thick mist, the tempo blasting through a frosty ambiance. Closer “The Last Step” aims to end the record with blinding glory as the singing glows, following mashing howls that inject thorniness. Melodies cascade before settling into a synth cloud, setting a dream-inducing state that eventually breaks with guitars splitting through with intensity. The gates of Valhalla are stormed as the flowing guitars mount a final surge, bringing the record to a heartfelt and fire-lapped ending.

It’s impossible to experience an Ereb Altor record and not come away with your adrenaline spiking in the least problematic way possible. As usual with their work, “Hälsingemörke” is an escape, but one that’ll thrill you from beginning to end as their brand of Viking metal transports you to the ancient forests and battles that live in your mind. This is another stunner from a band whose catalog is full of them and shows no sign of the fires in their hearts extinguishing.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://erebaltor.lnk.to/halsingemorker

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

Death metal has undergone a very significant shift the past decade, the sounds expanding and creating new branches that are bound to be nurturing as the ones that fed the current era of bands. That’s kept the sub-genre not only continually breeding new artists but also keeping the sound sharp, focused, and bloody.

Danish crushers Phrenelith have been a part of that movement, circulating a few levels deeper than, say, a Tomb Mold or Blood Incantation but still doing their part to strengthen an art form that is a warped and ugly as any. On their mangling and fiery third record “Ashen Womb,” they build on the foundation they laid down over the past decade and added more muscle and sinew, as well as some inventive and nightmarish bends that jar your guts. The band—guitarist/vocalist Simon Daniel, guitarist/vocalist David, bassist Jakob, drummer Andreas Nordgreen—twists things to their will, again displaying why they deserve more credit and hopefully find those accolades on this record.

“Noemata” is a gloomy, yet battering instrumental opener, setting the stage to the fire that lies ahead, which greets us wholly on “Astral Larvae.” Vicious growls devastate while the playing could melt steel beams, turning into a infernal force that rips with violent intent and utter demolition. “A Husk Wrung Dry” trudges before it takes on speed, ugly smearing making blood and dirt combine, an Earth-crunching tempo leaving broken bodies behind. The leads menace as the playing continues to ramp up the intensity, melodies bleeding over scraping growls. “Lithopaedion” rips and slashes, growls curdling, the playing penetrating the senses and squeezing you mentally. Warped melodies hover, uniting with sooty growls, the guitars breathing fire as everything ends in rubble. “Nebulae” is eerie and darker, and even when the violence breaks through the surface, there remains a sense of strange unease. Clouds form to add splashes of gray as the drums combust, clean tones mixing in with sharp steel chaos, dissolving into a cosmic void.

“Stagnated Blood” rips open, guitars spiraling, a gutting force slicing right through midsections and spilling innards on the floor. The leads make the room spin, growls delivering disgust and filth, the storming pace continuing to devastate before merging with a haze and bleeding into “Sphageion,” a strange interlude with eerie guitar work, pattering drums, and an alien finish. “Chrysopoeia” opens with guitars fully dominating, crunching and chewing, the growls punishing as speed gains control. The playing rains down with force, melodies sprawling through throat-shredding growls, gushing melodies, and a molten end that scorches flesh. The closing title track runs 9:56 and develops a strange aura, mixing into crushing blasts, mauling growls, and a thrashy tempo that makes blood pulse. The leads entangle as the drums attack, and a clobbering flood makes waters boil, an apocalyptic scene drowning everything as the final strains slowly drain into hell.

Phrenelith slowly have been honing their death metal chops over the past decade and their previous two full-lengths, but “Ashen Womb” pushes them even further into the upper echelon. This is a lung-blowing record that has moments of strangeness and space-age darkness intertwined with sinewy death. This is a hammer blow worth sustaining, even if it leaves you mentally and physically drained well after the music ends.

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

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

Or here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/phrenelith-ashen-womb-vinyl/

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

And here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/

We have plenty of people, regardless of party, to blame for the bullshit we’re enduring for the second fucking time for fuck sake. But very close to the top is turtle-face, cunt neck Mitch McConnel who is likely to stroke out at a presser before he tries to flex any geriatric muscle again. But he’s a worm of human times, and he deserves a shit-in-mouth demise.

I’m trying to do more record submissions this year, so when I got an entry on my Bluesky account, I could not say no to a band called Cocaine Mitch. Because that Mitch is … yeah. That fucking guy. If there was a real hell, Mitch would be gargling lava and poison as his turtle dick goes through a mixer. Dreamt in joking fashion but now committed forever to the digital landscape by creator Robby Grodin, these 10 tracks on “An Act of Violence,” slashes back at the system that created this situation and comically honestly. It also brutally assaults the gears that made this nightmare possible. The approach is menacing grind with a healthy injection of samples that add meaning and anger to the songs. Perfect.

“The Anti-Fascist Family Soup Kitchen” opens with a news clip about, wait for it, a police officer accused of a crime and not yet charged, and then guitar heat launches, rampaging through fiery chaos, slashing before the playing speeds away. “Cis Death Squad” starts with a piece from Rep. Zooey Zephyr (D, Montana) standing up for trans and intersex folks, and then we’re into a full-blown blaze, the playing stopping and starting to tease your heart, beastly howls breaking through and charging into devastation. “Hey Man Bad Shot,” obviously a reference to the Filter song of a similar name, pummels and terrifies, howls curdling before the pace slows and grinds gears. Guitars fire up again as the ambiance gets stranger, mind-melting wails scorching fully. “Kill Yr Rapist” features guest appearances by Sarah “Ribz” Ribeiro and Tim “Potatoes” McGrath, and this is the filthy, unforgiving piece you’d expect from the title, the command gang shouted into oblivion. “A Brick to the Face of a Forced Birther” begins with a great Roland Martin clip where he lashes against pro-birth scum who only give a fuck when an embryo is in a womb. Machine-gun blasts smother, beastly growls peeling back flesh, smashing heavily with humid power.

“A Detailed Treatise on the Many Benefits of Trickle Down Economics” is a quick interlude with noise and madness, mimicking the reality of the concept they’re sending up. Wonder when that money is going to fall to us. Hmm. “AxCxAxB” contains a sample of Sen. John Kennedy (R, Louisiana) spouting off about the “dangers” of defunding police forces, and he sounds like the pig he is, slobbering over his words. The playing is doomy and chugging, absolutely unloading as growls scar, guitars race, and chaos blaring right into the face of “The Cokening.” That features Pomme Fritz and has beats clobbering, weird noises making your brain boil, and warped lines from McConnell, sounding like the froze at another presser, warbling bizarre thoughts. “(I’m Going) Democrazy” explodes, guitars lathering, the pace chugging, and howls battering you thoroughly. The heat takes over and drives the force into the ground, bleeding out into the dirt. Closer “Cocaine 77” is the weirdest, most fucked-up take on Eric “Asshole” Clapton’s hit, splattering with cartoon horrors, goo dripping from Mitch’s flesh lap of a neck, and the final blows dealt against a substandard enemy.

Cocaine Mitch is so terrifyingly well timed, it’s almost scary. Though I think we all knew the miasma of hell we were headed into it after the damned 2024 election, and this collection of songs hits on just about every inhuman and despicable thing going on right now. Grodin has a stranglehold on mockery, fury, and revenge, three actions we’ll need an abundance of going forward if we want to get through. Plus the songs rip, and the cover is fucking hilarious, and fuck Mitch McConnell and all the bullshit he enabled. Drink piss, loser.

For more on the band, go here: https://cocainemitch.bandcamp.com/album/an-act-of-violence

To buy the album, go here: https://www.haulofhorror.com/products/cocaine-mitch-an-act-of-violence-digipack-pre-order

Living in a body can be a strange experience. Essentially, we’re locked inside shells as our minds and essences develop, and it can be a struggle to be OK with these meats suits and what they look like. Living in our society doesn’t make this any easier as pressure is applied hard on how we’re expected to look. Social  media turned that into a world-engulfing blaze.

Venomous Echoes is a black/death metal force helped by sole creator Ben Vanweelden, and over the course of this project, he has examined issues of body dysmorphia and horrors. On his third album “Dysmor,” there is sweeping, dramatic chaos dripped over these six tracks and 46 minutes, and the mental pressures and devastation are layered thick, which makes sense. I also suffer from body dysmorphia, and the connections I was able to make psychologically and even physically is brutal yet kind of healing. This record continues the plot of its two predecessors, and this time the protagonist is exposed to horrific images and visons, things that must be overcome to reach the world of Malcloid.

“Wall of Memories and Despair” dawns in a cacophony of sounds and sax slashing, doomy fury trudging through mean, monstrous territory that bends your nerves. Raw fury mixes with jazzy guitar lines, howls crumbing as a cosmic edge slices through, shrieks maiming and leaving mental damage. The title track crushes right off the bat, guitars bending and spiraling, smearing into woozy terrain where you feel like you’re losing touch. Guitars lather as eeriness blends into a time warp, death snarls, and increasing weirdness ends in echo. “Groped by Spectres” has guitars dashing and wrapping around corners, leads damaging minds, savagery crashing into mechanical hell and tortured wails. Tricky leads turn the screws, with the shrieks sickening as sounds hover and escape.

“Broken” has keys falling, strange melodies icing wounds, and then suddenly you’re buried in molten thickness. The playing stomps, a total maniacal fury that has no mercy, howls pouring devastation in generous quantities, piano fluttering, darkness dancing over volcanic ash. “Defeated and Withered Creation” has the guitars catching on fire instantly, punishing with speed and mangled steel, your brain tingling from the wild blast of zany death. Howls hiss as the room feels like it’s spinning dangerously, mashing as sounds zap, chugging through synth heat. Closer “The Begetter” runs 12:06, sax sliding in, a chilling front floating and making you shiver, the brutality finally served in hulking manner. The guitars cut as the howls slice into bone, the pace chugging as sooty, viscous streams flow, sickened screams leading way to inconsolable sobbing. Guitars blare anew as the tempo charges, a synth fog envelopes, keys dripping into oblivion.

Pain and trauma, especially as it relates to our bodies, can drive one to the edges of sanity, and Venomous Echoes punch into those uncomfortable areas. “Dysmor” delves into those dark corners where you try to process what you’re feeling, and sometimes that’s enough to slip further underneath. For Vanweelden, it’s looking into the Malcloid to fight to a better means of existence that doesn’t constantly gnaw at your brain.

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

I feel like this could be a boilerplate introduction for this site, but things have been dark and stormy for a lot of us for a long time. And it doesn’t appear to show signs of stopping. In what’s alleged to be the greatest country in the world, things are so unbalanced that people are at the end of their rope, and there is bloodshed the world over.

Digging into “Recover What You Can,” the third record from Pittsburgh brawlers Negative 13, and you can tell they’ve lived it too. The band’s brand of doom, hardcore, and metal is a force to behold live, and on this album, they translate that feeling as effectively as they ever have. Over six tracks and 33 minutes, the band—vocalist Scott Fisher, guitarist Edward Banchs, bassist Mary Bielich (Derketa, ex-Mythic), drummer Chip Reynolds—unloads both sonically and emotionally. The pain and suffering, the confusion and anger are all over this thing, and you can feel the gritty gears tearing into your psyche, identifying your struggle, and also hopefully showing you a way to climb out.

“The Desolate” is a strange, doomy, cloudy intro cut, setting the dark tones and sprawling into “Casket Trail” that immediately lands punches. The aura is mucky, Fisher’s howls encircling, the intensifying smoke making your vision strangely compromised. Riffs snarl as the pace begins to gallop harder, punishing as growls smack, and relentless chugging leaves deep muscle bruising. “The Vulture Circles” surges with guitars glistening and teasing, the words spat as the bass playing flexes its muscle, Fisher’s wail of, “Set me free!” rippling down your spine. “See my life melt away, but I’m not ready to leave,” Fisher declares, the playing piling on hardcore-style intensity, the final cry of “Pick yourself up!” resonating and disappearing into murk.

“Horizon Divides” has blurry playing that works into muscular jarring, the temps dropping as Fisher’s singing layers with emotion. “I have this constant feeling like I’ve been here before,” he laments, as the moodiness clashes with a ripping pace that knifes into the center, feeling beastly and slashing as is melts way. “Devil In Your Head” is charged up and jerky, talk singing adding to the abrasive nature, and then some speed that teams with a psychedelic wash. The playing begins to gut, growing more violent and disruptive, yells echoing as the ambiance feels like Neurosis’ early years, Fisher lashing, “You don’t really know me!” The closing title track is faster out of the gates, howls echoing, a gazey heat thickening and making breather tougher. A hypnotic force washes over the cut, the vocals stretching over that, the title howled deep from the gut. The pace continues to elevate, steam rising as if from a scalding hot bath, blazing out into steam.

It’s a rough time out there for a lot of people, and Negative 13 seem to capture that tug of war of emotions on “Recover What You Can.” Everything packed into these six songs come front loaded with emotion and grit, seeing your misery and struggle and responding with music that can accompany you into your mental battles. Or, if you’re just here to get crushed, you have more than enough to leave you bruised for weeks on end.

For more on the band, go here: https://negative13.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://negative13.bandcamp.com/album/recover-what-you-can

The adoration for 1990s death metal doesn’t seem to be losing steam, and why should it? The formative years that boasted the likes of Morbid Angel, Suffocation, Immolation, Bolt Thrower, and so many others continue to spawn new species in the death metal terrain that connect roots with one or more of the progenitors.

Finnish death metal maulers Aedes smash a whole lot of bloody affection for that era on their debut mini-album “Odius Imprecation,” originally released digitally last fall and now getting a physical version via Blood Harvest. Over a ferocious and skull-dragging 25 minutes, the band—vocalist Riku Ryynänen, guitarists Antti Luoto and Juha-Matti Ojanperä, bassist Atte Roppola, drummer/synth player Marten Gustafsson—centers itself square in the graveyard, with cauldrons steaming, bloody pathways following.

“Heretical Birth” begins thrashy with gruff vocals, the playing decimating with blazing speed. The battering continues as ash piles up dangerously, swimming in flames as the howls echo and mash, leaving infernal punishment waiting for you. “Portraits of Hell” crushes as guitars race, the screams corroding. The playing turns grim and doomy, the vocals scraping as guitars spiral, atmospheric agony choking with strange visions, a fiery outro consuming as the drums menace with hellish intent. “Merging Into Madness” dawns with insects swarming, guitars channeling fear, and then a seismic charge pushes into chaos. Harsh, beastly howls dig under the rib cage while spacey keys emerge and add a cooling agent, letting the cleaner tones make your brain tingle. But the violence returns, unleashing a grisly pace that chews muscle, driving through mystical fury that makes you feel insane. Closer “Cosmic Void Decay” chugs and swims through glass, the vocals turning animalistic, raw, and blistering, jabs making greater impact. The smeary doom has a Celtic Frost feel, meanwhile the leads erupt as scathing, nightmarish reality unfolds, the mesmerizing clean lines making blood go cold, a final blast of drubbing loose teeth from jaws.

For those who didn’t get on board with Aedes’ debut mini-album “Odius Imprecation” later in 2024, now is your chance to indulge in more 90s death metal worship that sounds like it belongs with that vintage. It’s grim, punishing, and at times spacey, giving a lot of different directions they can pursue deeper as they continue to develop as a unit. This wider release should help expose them to more like-minded people who don’t mind stomping through the muck to get the death barrage they desperately seek.

For more on the band, go here: https://aedesmetal.bandcamp.com/album/odious-imprecation

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.bloodharvest.se/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.bloodharvest.se/

Lord living fuck, I forgot how haywire it is when that shitbag is in office, and every five minutes he’s committing a crime against humanity. Therapy session was particularly intense this week, and it’s hard not to just want to scream constantly. Marijuana is the answer and so, it would appear, is Weed Demon.

The smoked-out sludge doom crushers return with their third record “The Doom Scroll,” and could they have selected a better title for a record dropping in the hell times? Part 2. This five-track (six if you have the vinyl version, which is hidden at the end) astronaut is perfect mind-blazing fodder for smoking up and trying to think about anything other than reality. The band—vocalist/bassist Jordan Holland, guitarists/vocalists Andy Center and Brian Buckley, drummer Nick Carter—mashes their smoldering, stoner doom that swaggers as hard as it pummels, making for a great escape from your life.

“Acid Dungeon” is an instrumental opener with a slick synth gaze, feeling spooky and borderline horror movie score. The playing shivers and haunts, moving into “Tower of Smoke” that powers with lapping guitars encircling and punchy rhythmic blows. The pace trudges and leaves soot, the playing allowing the heat to bubble dangerously, the instrumental piece burning off into other dimensions. “Coma Dose” chills with noiry playing, the singing warbling as things grow more molten, growls ripping in to pull at guts, with Funerals’ Shy Kennedy adding her own smoking, muscular voice. Things get more grisly as the harsh vocals mix with slurry singing, continuing to build momentum as mud cakes the gears. The bass trudges as the growls strengthen their grip, battering with a mucky intensity that blurs into the night.

“Roasting the Sacred Bones,” which would make Frank Reynolds psyched, starts with clean guitars glazing, a cosmic spiral taking you off into the cosmos, the riffs ruling with barked growls slashing over top. The playing gives off a humid Black Tusk vibe, your senses battered even as acoustic strains come in to offer some cooling, the thrashy energy catching fire and burning relentlessly. “Dead Planet Blues” is the closer, kind of, depending on your format. Acoustics and sun-stained guitars launch, the slide playing adding a strange warmth, the power engulfing. Clean guitar traces color in the riff pockets, guitars dashing through a spacey exhaust that spirals into oblivion. If you have the vinyl version, the album ends with a cover of Frank Zappa’s 1969 classic “Willie the Pimp” that they remake in their own image, keeping the bluesy madness and adding their own ferocity.

Weed Demon’s electrified, smoke-filled haze is thick and alluring as ever on “The Doom Scroll,” a record that might make you do less phone strangling and more immersion in mind-altering substances. You can do a lot worse for yourself as we’re back in the era of insane news every 5 minutes, so this distraction into the cosmos just might be what your ailing nerves desire. This is a brain-frying, clobbering record that’ll let you space out but also will leave unexpected bruising.

For more on the band, go here: https://smokeweeddemon.bandcamp.com/album/the-doom-scroll

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://www.gloryordeathrecords.com/shop/electric-valley-records

Or here (Europe): https://www.electricvalleyrecords.com/product/weed-demon-the-doom-scroll

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

Or here: https://www.electricvalleyrecords.com/

It’s easy to fall into the murk of what the global condition has become. Misinformation has surpassed truth in so many parts of the world that we may finally have achieved fiction as a present state. Fascist leaders are rising to power, including one of the worst, yet comically inept here in my country. Do we want to die? Because this is how you fucking die.

UK black metal force Abduction also see the darkness, the sea of untruth, and they attack that reality on their thunderous new record “Existentialismus,” their fifth overall. Here, the blistering voice led by originator A|V (there’s a full band here, but I’ll be damned if I can find a reliable lineup) explodes with infernal energy and destructive force, practically matching the rising danger that we can feel around us. The record is as punishing as the band’s previous work, but there is more flexibility now, especially vocally as some clean vocals found their way into the mix. It’s a welcome enhancement, something that cuts back on the chaos and adds new dexterity that makes the music more interesting.

“A Legacy of Sores” rips this record open, the savagery already off the charts even as melody swims downstream. The howls crush as guitars tingle, holding a brief place for a breather before the volcanic activity bubbles over again. Throaty cries grip as atmospheric leads bring this to a numbing end. “Pyramidia Liberi” has riffs coating steel, as a storming pace floods liberally, the rhythmic assault driving full force ahead as blood curdles. The playing continues to bind, A|V’s voice buzzes like an agitated nest, and the pace trounces as the cry of, “Messenger of death!” rings out. “Truth Is as Sharp a Sword as Vengeance” has  A|V expanding his voice, singing cleanly though darkness, the playing charging before screams return to add more menace. The playing pushes and pulls from brutal to more nuanced, singing sharing space with demonic wails, the intensity beginning to jackhammer with intensity, a stream-of-consciousness style bloodletting taking over as exhaust slips.

“Blau ist die Farbe der Ewigkeit” tears away, its teeth sinking into flesh, the playing then growing thrashier with deep black metal waves pulling everything under the surface. The pace races, clean singing bellowing, a colorful vortex swallowing you whole, disappearing into a mound of ash. “Razors of Occam” opens and blurs your eyes, the pace going a little more delicately than what preceded it, the singing eventually paving the way for muscular growls. The playing turns pitch black and tornadic, getting heavier and more violent as the seconds tick away, speedy strikes meeting up with melodic gushing, disappearing under a sheet of ice. Closer “Vomiting at Baalbek” is the closer, and it runs a healthy 11:10, rushing in from a storm surge, viciousness and atmosphere becoming odd partners, A|V howling, “Only death is real!” The pace dizzies, dashing through richly sung lines and barbaric screams, melodic leads adding some salve to the bruising. Guitars flush as more black metal force explodes, the jangling melodies playing tricks with your sanity and signaling a punishing end.

We’re full swing into a world where nothing seems to matter other than whatever bullshit someone smears on the internet, and truth and evidence never have been more meaningless. It’s a bleak, hopeless horizon at which we’re staring, and Abduction make that a little more volatile, offering a sobering dose of truth serum on “Existentialismus.” Darkness is thickening, our society is crumbling, and music like this reminds us we all need to take a step back and decide what humanity should look like and what we’re prepared to do to make sure that becomes a reality.

For more of the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/abduction616/

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://spinefarm.merchnow.com/collections/candlelight-records-1

Or here (Europe): https://candlelightrecords.tmstor.es/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.candlelightrecords.co.uk/

Hibernation, while not a human activity, surely can be understood by most people when the winter months have taken root, as they have now. Wanting to tuck away in the dark, resting and recharging, taking solace in our warm homes stand in such contract from how most of us are in the summer, it’s like we’re two different beings.

“Birna” is the new album from Nordic folk power Wardruna, and here, on their sixth full-length, they play with themes of hibernation, awakening, and decay. In Old Norse, birna stands for she-bear, and the band—Einar Selvik (formerly of Gorgoroth and Sahg), Lindy-Fay Hella, Eilif Gundersen, HC Dalgaard, Sondre Veland, John Stenersen, Arne Sandvoll—pays homage to that creature, natural life cycles, and the majesty of nature. Yet, deep in the woods, there also is unrest, a calling out for the return of its true spirit, a plea before it, too, succumbs. That makes this 10-track, 66-minute opus one that thrives with excitement and instrumental celebration, the darkness seeping into your pore. This album features guest appearances by Koret Artemis (choir), Jonna Jinton (vocals, field recordings), Hans Fredrik Jacobsen (willow-bark flute), Kenneth Lien (Jaw-harp), and Iver Sandøy (backing vocals).

“Hertan” opens with a heartbeat pulsating, speaking growing with intensity, group calls flourishing as chants follow behind. Everything swells as hearty melodies strike deep, ending in spiritual gaze. The title track collects strings and horns, the singing pushing into your bloodstream, gang calls uniting with a forestal chill. Drums pump as the horns are ablaze, the spirited jolt pushing off into the deep woods. “Ljos til Jord” has waters rushing, female choral voices icing flesh, whistles picking up along with a percussive dash. Strings ache as the spirit enters your system, the singing cresting as strings bite. “Dvaledraumar” is the longest track at 15:28, woodwinds calling as raw singing layers, a cavernous gust leading to a calmer, eerier section lying in wait, dulcimer plinks and strong singing uniting to make the surroundings burst with life. The melodies rush and then hypnotize, the strings glazing, pastoral choirs increasing the mood, sounds dripping and drums echoing as Hella’s calls ripple through veins, wafting into the cold. “Jord til Ljos” is bled into, the singing from the aforementioned carrying over, strings and choruses bringing the ritual to life. Woodsy chants haunt as whistle swim, birds chirp, and the final push leads to a resting place in the tall grass.

“Himinndotter” immediately awakens with rousing voices, a collection of calls gathering one spirit, drums punching full force as the pace jolts. The playing keeps gaining momentum, the singing coating and layering, unveiling an ancient essence. “Hibjørnen” delivers naked acoustics, Selvik’s voice taking on a filthier tone, the song getting richer as it goes. Then things turn bare bones, a rustic and sparse presentation allowing space for your mind to wander. “Skuggehesten” has thunder rolling in, the playing galloping as the drums prod, strings and horns adding to the jerky pace. The singing grows more stern, misty breaths bellowing from mouths, the energy marching and pumping, whispers swirling into the distance. “Tretale” enters amid drums stomping, acoustics washing over, spoken words tracing as group singing emerges. The tempo kicks into higher gear, the darkness luring you toward the fires, strings collecting, the wintry frost freezing faces. Closer “Lyfjaberg” starts with winds brushing and chants rising, drums echoing as a rhythmic path stomps its boots into the ground. The volume also manages to burst, the group singing swirling, heart-felt playing making your heart rush, hand drumming pattering as the sun sets.

The frosty ambiance and mesmerizing creations Wardruna committed to “Birna” make for perfect listening at this time of the year, when deep freeze is at our gates, and we, similar to the bear, find comfortable places in order to recharge and avoid the unforgiving weather. OK, so we don’t hibernate, but we can get lost in these songs and the visions they create in your mind, letting you also take some time away from your hectic lifestyle to align with nature and take a mental rest. I might need to pack myself into a cave until 2028 at the very earliest, and this record would be a perfect companion for an intermediate death that sparks renewal. 

For more of the band, go here: https://www.wardruna.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://wardrunashop.com/en/