Last week, I spent hours in the relentless heat and sun helping dear friends move into a new apartment that should be a fresh start for them. That said, carrying heavy boxes up stairs in a warm hallway for hours has taken a physical toll on me, and it’s a massive reminder I’m not a young man any longer. I don’t recover like I used to in the past.

Progressive death metal dreamers Vile Rites named their first full-length “Senescence,” the process of physical deterioration that occurs as a person ages. Sure, you can exercise or do other activities to help slow that decline, but it’s going to catch up with you some day. It’s an odd title for a record that’s so full of exciting new ideas, spacey expansion, and pushing death metal even further into jarring waters that wash over you with chilling fury, the furthest thing from losing power and stopping growth. The band—vocalist/guitarist Alex Miletich; bassist/synth player/field recording master Stephen Coon; drummer Aerin Johnson—treads paths once trampled by the likes of Morbus Chron and Blood Incantation, but in their own way that’s unique to them. This is the first glimpse of a band that’s bound to be one of the sub-genre’s great creators for a long time to come.

“Only Silence Follows” opens amid cold notes, hypnosis setting in, which is a hint of what’s ahead. The bass bends as the hammering picks up, the soloing erupting as the growls dig into flesh. Cosmic synth wraps you in a coat of stars as speed becomes a greater factor, ripping out into the stars. “Senescent” is tricky and crunchy when it starts, heavy blows landing with force, drubbing and causing dizzying feelings. The playing pulls back and adds a chill to the air, fluid leads take off and create a laser effect, techy melodies flex muscles. The bass quivers as the sounds turn on a dime, ending in progressive waters. “Shiftless Wanderings” buzzes and engorges, the bass again exuding power, the growls mangling as the riffs soar through the air. Soloing boils as the tempo thrashes hard, the playing growing in urgency, growls tearing strips of flesh as chaos melts into tributaries.

“Ephemeral Reverie of Eroded Dreams” in an eerie interlude that has alien tentacles and icy intent, strange synth and soaked guitars making it feel like you’ve been drenched in an all-day storm. “Transcendent Putrefaction” has the bass chewing into muscle, keys wooshing, and heavy body blows aiming to take you down. Growls engorge as the temperatures shift to a deep freeze, the guitars erupting and letting carnage reign, beastly howls and gutting death smearing psychosis. Closer “Banished to Solitude (Adrift on the Infinite Waves)” is the longest track, running 11:11, and the track blasts and contorts, sudden brutality slashing as progressive fires are fed gallons of fuel. The vocals scar as the decimation continues, the drums pasting with violence, whispering chilling as the playing calms. Bludgeoning madness arrives as the sounds bathe in moonlight and blood, hazy, moody guitars melting time and encircling the clouds.

Vile Rites’ progressively minded death metal is a refreshing gust of energy, and while “Senescence” may be named after a process of physical deterioration, it feels like the band is just beginning a life cycle that could begin to rewrite this style’s DNA. This first full-length builds off what they created before and demonstrates a tenacity and musical violence that is enthralling the first listen and only multiplies from there. This is one of the best debuts of the year so far, and I can only imagine what this band will sound like a half decade from now once they full grow into their forms.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://carbonizedrecords.com/search?q=vile+rites&options%5Bprefix%5D=last

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

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

Death is one of the few certainties in life, and we’re all touched by its dark hand in many ways, be that losing friends and family or facing the scythe ourselves. Wrapped into all of that is the emotional response, the sadness and depression that result from losing a loved one or when dealing with our own demise. It’s hardly uplifting times.

UK doom crushers Blind Monarch head straight into that soberingly morbid territory on their great second record “The Dead Replenish the Earth,” a four-track, 43-minute beast that digs hard into tragedy and the aftermath of the death of a loved one. The band—vocalist Tom Blyth, guitarist Adam Blyth, bassist Paul Hubbard, drummer Sam Elsom—doesn’t shy away from confronting and acknowledging these feelings and the horrible pit of sorrow and grief that comes with parting ways forever with someone you hold dear. The gutting sadness, the storm of depression, and the seemingly never-ending agony that results from that, or from knowing your own fate is near, create a helpless trip through hell that feels like it’ll never end. For some, it never does.

“Other Faces” dawns amid wild howls as doom drops, the playing carving into mountains. Growls engorge as the playing splatters, the force feeling like a battering ram, demonic melodies ripping through chest cavities. The corrosion calms as the noise simmers, and then a gargantuan force weighs down, buzzing and pulverizing, burying itself into the earth. “Diminishing” starts quietly, plodding into the dark, the growls curdling as a slow fury begins to boil. The playing then chugs and smashes, guitars quivering as the gears choke in mud, eerie darkness stretching its massive wings. The pace rips open as growls lurch, a scorching pressure gets heavier, and the massacre sinks its teeth dangerously deep.

The title track starts with retching vocals, slowly twisting your gears, ugly hell flooding and thrashing with a deliberate pace. Moodiness thickens as a haze glimmers, growls crushing with savage force, glacially destroying everything with the misfortune of being in the band’s path. Closer “All Shall Pass Away” begins as a clean, chilling display, but it’s not too long before mangling blades are drawing blood, gory howls adding to the body count. The playing drubs hard, crushing with calculated force, the oncoming heat baking with ill intent. Things take a mournful turn even as melodies sweep, punching away and chipping teeth, clean guitars melting as the force bows out into eternity.

“The Dead Replenish the Earth” is a massive, devastating listen, and that’s only when taking the music into account. Digging into the themes of death, loss, and depression adds a world of weight to what’s already impossibly heavy, and these are very human experiences and emotions we all face. It’s not meant to be comfortable, and it’s better that it’s not, because facing sobering reality scars can make us stronger as a result.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.drycoughrecords.com/products

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

Or here:  https://www.minorlabel.de/label/obscur.htm

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

I’m certain I’d never survive an encounter with Colin Robinson, he being the energy vampire on “What We Do in the Shadows” who feeds off people’s energy by boring them into oblivion. As it is, I have limited amounts of power, and the more I do, the further activities I add to my to-do list, and it’s curtains for me. Colin would drain me in no time.

I thought of that scenario when considering what to say about “Enervate,” the latest long player from one-man drone doom instrumental power Celestyn. Helmed by Ted Bizon, also of black metal crushers Orphaned, this three-track album digs into what this creator does best, which is make your mind and body buzz with his slow-driving, psychologically altering creations that ground you. The title refers to a word that means to lessen someone’s vitality or strength, hence my Colin mention, though the music doesn’t really do that. I speak for me here, but it got into my blood and radiated my nerves, almost having an invigorating effect that injects energy and gets the juices flowing. Also, this is right up my alley, so the impact it has on me might not be universal to all listeners.   

“Damp” is the 16:11-long opener, starting with guitars melting, the pace moving slowly as drone emerges and noise scalds. Melodies continue to rise as the heat increases, guitars ramping up as the playing spills over the edges. An electric storm hovers as guitars tremble, the playing smothers, and everything vibrates to an end. “Respite From the Moil” drills and buzzes, your guts shaking inside your body, melodies emerging as the riffs numb nerve endings. Strangeness emanates from blinding colors that seem out of a technicolor dream state, clouds accumulating as drone laps, lava flowing from the corners. Closer “Purify the Door of Perception” runs 13:13, weather patterns hanging overhead, the cosmic void floating at your reach, electricity jetting through veins. The emotion floods to the surface as your bones rattle, high-pitched noises piercing, your ears going numb from the energy. Guitars bubble and char as you’re stretched to your limit, the sounds fading to oblivion.

“Enervate” is full of blinding energy and noise that gets inside your brain and rewires it for good measure. Celestyn’s Bizon certainly has been busy this year (five releases of varying size), and this is another great building block for his sound that washes over you and infects you with energy that feels like it came from another world. This is mood music for those with darkened minds who could use some noise and numbness to help dial back the manic feelings.

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

To buy the album or for more on the label, go here: https://riffmerchant.bandcamp.com/

When I was a kid, old Godzilla movies used to play on the television Saturday afternoons, the grainy Japanese movies both capturing my imagination and scaring the shit out of me because what if a kaiju rose and destroyed my town? As I got older, I continued to enjoy these tales of great beasts even as a lot of the newer movies were diminishing returns.

Pacific Northwest death metal monsters Oxygen Destroyer, named after the weapon that killed Godzilla in the original 1954 film, took their love of kaiju films even further by using them as an influence for their records. Their latest and third long player is “Guardian of the Universe,” the subtitle for the initial film of the Gamera trilogy, released in 1995. This nine-track, 33-minute beast follows the events of each of the three pictures, the other two being “Attack of Legion” in 1997 and “Revenge of Iris” in 1999. The band—vocalist/guitarist Lord Kaiju, guitarist Joey Walker, bassist Paul Wright, drummer Chris Craven—pours their volcanic best into this record, ripping through you like a gigantic monster hellbent on tearing every building in their reach into a hellish pit of destruction.

“Guardian of the Universe (The Final Hope)” begins as terror strikes, the band thrashing viciously and leaving bruises, howls rippling through the earth. The playing turns vicious and furious, mangling and leaving blows, the growls pummeling as the final moments tear flesh. “Drawing Power from the Empathetic Priestess of Tranquility” starts as Gamera wails, the playing pulverizing as the punishment is turned up to insane levels, the playing spattering as the soloing scorches, and a blinding solo brings this shorter cut to an end. “Shadow of Evil” crunches as the band mounts a death attack, coming unhinged as the devastation spreads. The playing tears limbs from bodies, the guitars exploding with menace as the final moments utterly flatten. “Thy Name is Legion” is speedier as the playing slashes, mauling as total demolition arrives, stomping and charging through thrashy fire. The leads blaze as the growls intensify, creaking as the playing tears guts out of midsections with no mercy at all.

“Eradicating the Symbiotic Hive Mind Entity from Beyond the Void” is heavy, fast, and chunky, howls wrenching muscles as the violence steadily increases. The heat intensifies as does the tempo, with everything cosmically sucked into the void. “Nightmarish Visions of the Devil’s Envoy” is another quick one, unloading with volcanic fury, the guitars glazing as a thrashy assault flexes, ravaging to a sudden death. “Awaking the Malevolent Destroyer of the Heavens and Earth” opens with a clip from “Revenge of Iris” before the punishment gets under way, gurgly growls bubbling to the surface as the journey enters hyper speed, smashing with melodic devastation, the gears grinding to a mechanical end. “Banishing the Iris of Sempiternal Tenebrosity” stomps, shrieky howls lacerating, the leads spiraling dangerously. Things turns uglier, fires spitting, monstrous howls lashing away, bleeding out into an energy field. “Exterminating the Ravenous Horde of Perpetual Darkness and Annihilation” closes the journey, unloading with a burly attack, melodies ravaging as the guitars turn toward technical fireworks. Shrill shrieks send chills down your spine, beastly cries ravage, and digital corrosion consumes everything whole.

You don’t need to have seen the Gamera trilogy for “Guardian of the Universe” to have a smashing impact on you, as Oxygen Destroyer have a way of making their metallic force pummel you no matter what. But you’ll get a little more out of the hidden gems on the record, and the skull-splitting bursts woven into the songs will hit that much harder. Either way, this is a giant serving of thrash-infested death metal that is kaiju sized and promises to level everything within your grasp.

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

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

Or here (rest of the world): https://redefiningdarkness.8merch.com/

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

The presidential election in the United States is coming up this November, and it’s an easy cause for anxiety when considering the possibilities for even a second. The Republican party is using, among other disgusting tactics, immigration as a means for firing up their base with their minions chanting “send them back” at campaign rallies. Yeah, these are the people of the alleged Jesus, a character they don’t understand.

Respire, a band that’s stretched across the U.S. and Canada, focused their excellent new record “Hiraeth” on immigration and the plight of people who are trying to find a better life for their families. Yet, their plight takes them from one path of hostility to another as humans continue to find ways to be inhospitable and cruel to others. It’s also a warning to those people who remain put and flaunt their perceived privileges over others who just want to live in peace. The band—Egin Kongoli –(vocals, guitar, synthesizer, piano), Rohan Lilauwala (vocals, guitar), Darren Scarfo (vocals, guitar), Travis Dupuis (vocals, drums), Ben Oliver (bass), Eslin McKay (vocals, violin, viola), Emmett O’Reilly (vocals, trumpet)—is a strange amalgamation of volcanic black metal, sweeping post-rock, and classic indie rock, making for one of the more interesting forces in heavier music. This album could have a widespread appeal on a number of audiences as it contains many different influences, and the subject matter is a human one that could use far more compassion from others.

“Keening” starts with a gasp of strings and birds chirping, the playing feeling breezy and stimulating before the howls arrive and deliver menace. The playing continues to rouse amid the carnage, horns calling, an adventurous pace pushing blood through your veins, giving off a trippy indie rock feel. “The Match, Consumed” starts as animalistic black metal, snarling and pounding, growls rushing to the surface. Melodies then emerge from underneath, group singing rousing, the strings gliding, slipping into “Distant Light of Belonging” that awakens with chimes, strings, and the sound of crowd noise. The pace gets burly as grim growls slash, group wailing building as the pressure gets darker. Shrieks then rain down, horns pushing gloriously, the music flowing into “First Snow” where keys fall like flakes, the guitars rising along with the singing. The playing then rips open and scorches, the scathing warning of, “You can’t escape,” adding to your spiraling emotions, the playing continuing to corrode as everything fades in static. “Home of Ash” brings jolting guitars and a mix of harsh and gang vocals, the playing gutting fully. Calm then washes over as the horns ache, howls stretching before a fresh eruption, beastly cries battling with renewed energies, blurring out into mystical air.

“Voiceless; Nameless” opens with strings gliding, howls burying emotions in rubble, and the playing slowly melting into the ground. The tempo gradually pushes back, horns streaking as the keys slip into time. “The Sun Sets Without Us” dawns with active guitars bubbling, shouts and shrieks getting the blood rushing, and eventually a cold front entering, bringing down the temperature. “It won’t get better before it gets worse, tomorrow always felt like home,” rouses as a group call, howls reemerging and mangling with force, the gushing playing fading into “We Grow Like Trees in Rooms of Borrowed Light” that has strings layering and more soundscapes from the street. Then the adrenaline bursts, bouncing off walls like an At the Drive In attack. Doom falls even as glorious horns glaze with power, mashing and wrenching, the pace leaving ample bruising as ugliness pushes through any sense of serenity. “Do The Birds Still Sing” dawns amid a doomy haze, crazed yells stinging as the strings surge, the playing ripping apart at the seams. Energy spikes as the playing trudges, the vocals punch, and the final embers burn into closer “Farewell (In Standard)” that bask in strings and horns, group singing awakening your spirit. “Don’t cry if this is goodbye,” feels both sad and hopeful, the keys trickling as all voices merge, easing into eternal calm.

“Hiraeth” is a calling out and embrace for those who have had to leave their homes to find a better way of life, and the 10 tracks Respire commit to this record are full of emotion, heart, and compassion. This band’s unique mix of sounds is a sort of visitor, and a welcome one, to extreme music circles, and what they bring is a welcoming mat to those who have other ambitions besides always being battered with decibels. That opening of arms is both a theme the record hammers home and a reminder that being heavy encompasses more than just the sound as the messages contained within are just as impactful.

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

To buy the album (worldwide), go here: https://www.dinealonestore.com/products/respire-hiraeth

Or here (U.S.): https://persistentvisionrecords.com/products/respire-hireath-lp-persistent-vision-exclusive-variant

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

Slasher films had an apex in the late 1970s and 1980s, and while the genre of movies survives and thrives to this day, what came out in this timeframe could be seen as perverse and often offensive. But, I mean, these are movies about deranged maniacs killing people, and while there were troublesome elements, at the end of the day, THESE ARE FILMS ABOUT MURDER!

I say that as we prepare to discuss Italian death metal destroyers Fulci and their ripping fourth record “Duck Face Killings.” The band, that takes its name from legendary slasher film director Lucio Fulci, concentrates on his 1982 movie “The New York Ripper,” which is about a deranged killer with a duck-like voice slaying women in the most perverse manner possible. Yes, it is a pretty misogynistic film, as were most of the horror movies of this style at that time, and it is known as one of the most shocking and reviled of its era. The band—vocalist Fiore Stravino, guitarists Dome Diego and Ando Ferraiulo, bassist Klem Diglio, drummer Edo Nicoloso—creates this 14-track monster as a soundtrack for the film, dressing every stab, every river of blood with death metal terror, with some unexpected sonic surprises awaiting you along the way.

“Vile Butchery” tears into prone necks, gargantuan growls feeling delivered by a blood-thirsty throat, slowing into filth. The guitars gain steam as the pace punishes, spilling into “A Blade in the Dark,” a quick instrumental with steamy sci-fi synth, electro pulses, and eerie playing, slamming into “Fucked With a Broken Bottle” that reflects a gruesome plot point. The playing erupts as the growls puke menace, hazy guitars adding some humidity before brutality fires up and engages. The drums crush as the chunky playing feels like swallowing glass, ending in a gory fury. “Morbid Lust” punishes with scathing violence, heavy growls boiling and gurgling. Dual leads then unite as the tempo trudges, ugly thrash bowing to the unknown. “Maniac Unleashed” enters amid throaty howls and a battering ram of a force, the leads catching fire and snagging flesh. The growls add a sense of nausea, the guitars glazing and leading to a numbing end. “Knife” ices with drizzling guitars, and then rapping from Lord Goat (of Brooklyn-based hip-hop act Non Phixion) turns your head, growls melting, and guitars adding heat to the mix. “Slashereality” is brutal, thick growls laying waste, the speed suddenly and solidly blistering. The leads squeal, and then morbid howls greet you, chilling your flesh as Stravino wails, “You will die.”

“Human Scalp Condition” brings fast guitars and deep growls, the playing digging deep into guts, then everything pulls back as bones are stomped to dust. Stravino retches as the brakes are slammed, tire tread devouring limbs. The title track is menacing, the drums encircling and searching, deep growls squeezing your throat, the playing charging with violent intent. Guitars add thick atmosphere, and then foggy, numbing sounds rain down, the ambiance oddly dissolving into warmer waters. “Rotten Apple” erupts with the choking quacking sounds of the film’s deranged killer, a hardcore-influenced stomp opening wounds, gang shouts feeling like exposed fists to the face. “She begs for her life, it’s too late,” Stravino wails, meaty savagery sending the song to its final resting place. “Sadistic Murder” brings quaking drums, bloody, gurling growls, and the goddamn duck sounds slashing anew. Gutting death smears plasma, and a battering finish stabs an exclamation point on the end. “Lo Squartatore” is a strange, unsettling interlude with our killer again gracing us with his hideous voice, screams and horror slashing toward “Stabbed, Gutted and Loved” that is awash in brutality. Growls maul as the leads simmer, the stinking summer heat making breathing difficult and unpleasant. Guitars hypnotize as the growls carve bone, dissolving into steam. Closer “Il Miele Del Diavolo” is quite the outro, keys leaving sheets of ice, mystical clouds gathering, the sax sinking in and adding to that desperate call of the city, disappearing into the thick, unsettling night.

“Duck Face Killings” is a manic, splattering record inspired by one of the most ruthless, violence slasher films of the 1980s, and Fulci capture the scummy bloodshed with their mind-twisting death metal. Anyone who has been aboard for the band’s previous records won’t be shocked at all, as this is the type of thing this force has been up to from the start. For the uninitiated, this is death metal a bit more deranged and gory than you might expect, armed with songs from a film known as one of horror’s most despicable.  

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

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

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

Being able to feel morbidity and dark elegance pouring out of your headphones or speakers can be a cathartic event. Even the brightest people have their dark times, and for many of us, the pain and torment of existence is a common theme, something nearly impossible to shake. Losing yourself in music that feels the same way is like a form of therapy.

Chilean death/doom force Mourners Lament make it very easy to fall into the depths of madness and mourning on their excellent second album “A Grey Farewell,” the band’s first since their 2016 debut LP “We All Be Given.” This six-track, 65-minute behemoth conjures feelings from three decades ago and some of the pioneering bands of this sound, yet what Mourners Lament commit to record is something that’s a spirit their own. These songs are heavy both sonically and emotionally as the band—vocalist Alfredo Pérez, guitarist Marcos Contreras, bassist Franco Ciaffaroni, keyboard player Matias Aguirre, drummer Rodrigo Figueroa—shares generously the tumult inside of them that could mirror our own. It’s perfect music to hear when we’re in our own doldrums, seeking a like-minded force that has seen the same chaos and identified each step of the suffering process.

“Towards Abandonment” is the 10:58-long opener, feeling hazy and somber, keys zapping and gusting winds leading the way for the spreading growls. Keys drip as speaking rains down into the murk, the playing bursting as the growls get deadlier, doom fires stoked as the guitars lather. Synth bubbles as the storm closes in, the singing layering as everything succumbs to grimness. “Changes” is the longest track here, a 13:27 monster that slips in with warm guitars and welling keys, growls mixing in as the raw fury expands. The path settles into a fog as cold and dreariness rise, harsh howls sending ripples through serenity, punches landing later as the growls gut. Speaking crawls over icy guitars, eventually disappearing into the shadows. “Ocaso” basks in synth weariness, the speaking hypnotizing as the growls settle in, slithering through strange worlds. The keys get more intense, the elegance spreading as a huge gust loosens rock, dissolving into the night.

“The Clear Distance” runs a healthy 12:29, growls gutting early on, the punchy pace starting to add bruising. The playing shimmers as the force travels through mysterious skies, the guitars lathering as the growls engorge, synth layers increasing their hold. Howls mash as the gothy atmosphere thickens, bleeding before boiling over. “In a White Room” enters as keys glow, and the playing moves slowly, the growls bubbling to the surface as darkness reigns. The speaking again haunts, and the power increases, blistering with force and trudging as the vocals maul. Keys cascade as the messages haunt, the grief melting into closer “Mass Eulogy” that feel glorious and calming when it starts. The playing crushes as the guitars lap fire, the sadness spreading liberally, tangling and stomping before a new eruption adds scathing cries. Synth layers slip under dark waters, the drama suddenly hitting an uptick, bleeding out into echoes.

Mourners Lament sink so deep into death/doom territory, that you can’t help but be moved by their commitment on the darkly immersive “A Grey Farewell.” This is a record that’ll feel right at home in the colder months, when chilling rains and darker skies return, and we shiver the find some solace from the temperatures. But that shouldn’t stop you from indulging now, as this record is a massive, somber adventure that requires your body and mind to adapt and sink into the darkest reaches of your mind along with the band.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100077878803847

To buy the album, go here: https://personal-records.bandcamp.com/album/a-grey-farewell

For more on the label, go here: https://www.personal-records.com/

Loss is a fucking killer. It ripples through you like nothing you’ve ever experienced. It taxes your mind and can lead to psychological torment you didn’t know you were capable of experiencing. It takes years sometimes to feel remotely like yourself again, but even then, there’s a void, and it’s unfillable.

Bay Area experimentalists Mamaleek are not like any other band out there, and as a result, they don’t present grief and the impact of loss in a conventional manner. Then again, what is normal when you’re mourning the loss of a former band member, an integral part of their sound? Their eighth record “Vida Blue,” named after the legendary pitcher who was a vital cog in the Oakland A’s World Series-winning teams in the 1970s, is a nine-track, nearly 53-minute portrait of the band contemplating loss in various forms from what it’s like to be without people, money, country, and other elements that make up their lives. Blue himself passed away in May of 2023, and the A’s announced they’re leaving their longtime home in Oakland to play in Las Vegas. These are matters that surely weighed on the band, and their music that resembles Tom Waits fronting the most fucked up noise rock and metal band you ever heard is their place to work through the torment and pain.

“Tegucigalpa” starts with guitars looping and gravelly growls, the playing feeling busy and strange, the guitars chugging and spiraling. The playing is a total mind fuck, flutes swirling in air, the atmosphere feeling artful and wrenching to the end. “Vileness Slim” brings jazzy bass and speak singing, the aura going breezy though you know something unsettling bubbles underneath. Guitars pluck as moves are made in the dark, and then the leads blaze, choral chants making you grasp for the wall. Whistling pierces before the howls rip, weird chanting zapping out. The title track starts with horns clawing, gurgling vocals warbling, “Man of steel.” The whole thing brings on a fitting summer heat, trippy melodies coursing, Muppet-like cries eating at your muscles. Strings melt into tributaries, plodding as the wails of, “Vida Blue!” snaking like a baseball crowd frothing at the mouth, guitars warping and generating humidity. “Ancient Souls, No Longer Sorrowful” has strains of Middle Eastern music, stomps, and gruff growls, guitars turning into a volatile storm cloud, synth squealing and piercing skin. The whole thing turns disorienting, your brain frying as the singing spreads, and strange keys drip like a codeine syrup. “Momentary Laughter Concealed From My Eyes” is a weird interlude, feeling dreamlike with numbing chorals, slipping into a haze that mimics your deepest slumber visions.

“Black Pudding Served at the Horn of the Altar” opens with group singing, the pace thudding as the playing slurs, nasty wails following up behind all of this. The tension seems to taunt, do-wop glazing making your head spin, and then things get wonderfully detached from reality, blurring out into your nightmares. “Hatful of Rain” slips into woodwinds, the sounds entering into a bizarre new realm, harsh wails pounding on you, the punches digging into already bruised muscles. Sounds curdle as the vocals turn more sinister and vicious, and then a modicum of calm arrives, blending into bass slicks that grease your path. “Legion of Bottom Deck Dealers” is the longest cut, running 10:13 and immediately stepping into a psychedelic void, the singing soothing as the playing further warps minds. There’s a push into the cosmos, growls emerging and working through hypnotic beams, hulking into acoustics and buzzing voices, noise echoing as the bass chunks. The atmosphere turns more calming, but the vocals don’t let you off the hook, spitting nails as a jazzy ambiance slowly fades. Closer “Hidden Exit on a Greyhound” feels like the band took a trip back to the mid-’70s, soulful power pushing, guitars taking on a sunburnt gaze. Voices warble as the heat peaks, sounds blazing and stinging, the final strains heading deep into cold, unforgiving outer space.

The power and presence of loss can take someone to the ground, and the way Mamaleek processed and regurgitated that pain leads to some strange pathways on “Vida Blue.” This is a record that can make you feel insane, and strangely enough, loss can have that same effect on someone’s mind and body. This isn’t music that’s easy to decipher or digest, and that’s fitting because the experience of losing someone or something can be just as disruptive. These songs perhaps can make you realize not feeling right is all a part of the experience that you must endure, and that’s actually quite normal.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063715500356

To buy the album, go here: https://nowflensing.com/collections/front-page-pre-orders

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

Humanity and our world are hanging on by a thread, and with the fascist of the two American political parties denying the globe’s vulnerability so they can strip it for all it’s worth, reality is a motherfucker. An extinction event would not be this world’s first, though it might be the first where the beings that suffer the demise deserved every bit of it.

I’m not saying Adon’s self-titled debut is about that very thing, but it’s fairly close. On this six-track, 48-minute blackened death mauler, the band—vocalist Æthelwulf II, guitarist Nath—dig back through folklore and examine destructive cycles that repeat, wondering what it might be like when our existence comes to an end. Grim, sure. But this style of music always has been known to be confrontational, and to go back and examine errors of past generations would do us some good. By the way, this record originally was released as part of The Metalhead Box collection, but Neuropa caught wind and gave this album a full release on CD and vinyl with a deluxe layout, offering it fresh, volatile new life.

“Ascension” blisters out of the gates, crushing with black metal force, howls lashing as the leads pick up the intensity. The shrieks turn creakier, firing up the fury, blasting downhill recklessly and right into “Æther” that storms from the start. Beastly howls mix with a thunderous, stirring assault that figures out a way to feel fluid and sooty at the same time. The pace drives harder as the speed becomes a greater factor, clashing as howls scorch, spilling into calmer strains that drain out with clean playing. “Adon” runs a massive 16:43, and despite its epic length, it makes the most of the space it occupies. Organs, drilling guitars, and a vicious streak combine, choral calls encircling, the riffs jabbing and smoldering. Flutes flutter as the gaze thickens, entering a mystical realm, a long instrumental section searching and slipping, the playing erupting. Guitars lather as group calls surge, wrecking and simmering to a humid finish.

“Azimuth” explodes with terrifying howls and drilling, blistering playing, the guitars torching flesh, the leads lathering with blood. The aura turns eerie and mauling, the violence slipping into strange environments, the destruction shedding into ash. “Axiom” tears open, stomping as the guitars spiral recklessly, the guitars bubbling over and simmering in blood. Melody re-enters and overwhelms with power, the playing spews lava that eats through flesh, and a synth blast adds a frigid coat to the back end of the track. Closer “Æon” runs a healthy 11:03, entering from a strange, yet thorny realm, crazed shrieks exploding out of the chaos as the guitars add to the fury. Choral calls add a strange element to your dreams, and the playing turns hypnotic in stretches, leaving you feeling for a steady place to regain balance. The drums mash as icy punishment clutches your throat, the intensity spiking for a final time, an impenetrable fog swallowing everything whole.

Adon’s immersion into the possibility of what lies after our world ends is not new to metallic lore, but it’s always worth reexamining when newer artists try their hand at that brand of storytelling. That adds a compelling thrust to the band’s blackened death metal that sounds huge and enthralling, making them a decent breakthrough candidate to find favor among underground fans and the ones who relish more mainstream sounds. This self-titled debut is a solid start, an album good enough that it deserved plucked from obscurity and given new life so that it could live alongside the beasts.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.neuroparecords.com/en/product/adon-482

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

Black metal very often operates on speed and aggression, overwhelming you with sounds and an attack that seems like it has declared war on your mind. So, when bands in this sub-genre come at you with a different approach, it can be a little alarming at first as you test these waters. There are many ways to play black metal, none of them really wrong.

Swiss/German black metal force ColdCell certainly bring the heaviness and darkness, and they can be aggressive at points. But their music goes a different direction for the most part, burning in place, putting more emphasis on heaviness and battering force in a more calculated manner. Their new, fifth record “Age of Unreason” is a grower for that reason. It doesn’t explode out of the gates and ram violence down your throat. Instead, the band—vocalist S, guitarists Ath and DmL, bassist/samplist In, drummer aW (also of Schammasch)—grinds you in the gears, pouring unrelenting darkness and pressure into your already pounding skull, dragging you along for the ride.

“Hope and Failure” enters ominously, the pace slowly firing up as a haze takes over. Creaky howls dig under your nails as the playing gets more fiery, the drums gut, and strange warbling overcomes, sounds ringing out into oblivion. “Dead to the World” is punchy with a swirling pace, growls charring as the playing moves into ashen territories. The melodies slither, crawling through chaos, the tempo battering as the room begins to spin, desperate calls drilling into rock and melting into the ground. “Left” is foggy and dreary when it dawns, a molten diatribe unfurling as guitars sting and leave blisters. Ferocity explodes from guts, coming down heavier and more forcefully, crazed howls plastering and boiling in turmoil. “Solitary or Solitude” bathes in shadow, shrill howls making your head spin, the guitars bending as the blazes get thicker. The vocals unload as the playing sprawls, charring in place, the guitars slowly dissolving into puddles.

“Meaningless” features Ines Brodbeck of Inezona on guest vocals, and she brings a haunting nature to the track, a heartfelt display that plays with your emotions. The playing plods alongside, the rousing dashes adding beauty to the din, wordless calls reaching out and sending tingles down your spine. “Discord” is fluid and punchy, beastly howls taking you down as S calls, “I reject you, I cannot cast you out.” The growls only get thicker from there, boiling flesh as the playing thrashes, ripping brain wiring and disrupting signals. Closer “Sink Our Souls” is murky with guitars traversing mysteries, the darkness strangling as the scraping growls work you over, the drumming turning bones to paste. The guitars catch fire and increase the humidity, eventually going cold and reflective, the anguish spreading through the mangling howls, fires scorching as the final embers slip into the unforgiving clutches of eeriness.

ColdCell explore the lower levels of abyss and mine it for all its dark misery on “Age of Unreason.” This band never will blind you with speed or overt aggression, as their heaviness comes from the weight that fills out these songs, the pace that stomps you in the dirt. This is a record that will leave you bruised and battered from sustaining this campaign’s agony, letting you know you’ve been in a battle mentally and physically.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.aoprecords.de/gb/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.aoprecords.de/