The longer you’re alive on this earth, the more pain and loss you’re going to experience. It’s a natural progression through life, albeit an uncomfortable one, and these are events can leave us reeling, finding it difficult to move forward and create a new comfort zone.

Denver-based melodic death metal band Oak, Ash & Thorn face that on all fronts on their rousing second record “Our Grief Is Thus.” Over eight tracks and 39 minutes, the band—vocalist/guitarist Adam Armstrong, guitarist/vocalist Jason Harding, bassist Erik Hoffman, drummer Cierra White—creates a concept piece of sorts that addresses grief and loss in all of its forms. That can be personal, societal, familiar, you name it as all of them have a profound impact on who we are, where we live, and how we shape our future. The music here is exciting and crushing, something that, if the lyrical context was ignored, could be something that gets your adrenaline going. And it still might, but the messages contained within can’t be ignored, nor should they be.

“Dying Culture” has a massive open, only hinting at the energy ahead, and from there, harsh growls and clean singing team, the chorus rushing full force. Things continue to build, vicious howls belting as the call of, “This is the sound of our culture dying,” resonates in your chest. “Like the Sea, I Raged” opens fluidly, the power trickling, and then the playing begins to mash, the leads glimmering above the filth, the melodies swimming and surging, going deep into progressive waters. Growls stretch as fiery bursts open wounds, stretching and jarring, thrashing into the dirt. “Ten Years on the Tundra” dawns with glorious singing, then punchiness as the melodies cause roadways to feel slick, the chorus gusting with, “Time to bury me, bury deep my tired bones.” Guitars lather as a twin-lead attack mounts, taking off into an explosion of heat, the chorus returning to usher in a rousing finish. “Bury Deep My Tired Bones” is a sun-splashed interlude, feeling like it’s leaning into the heat of summertime, leaving you basking in the light.

“Light My Pyre” begins with pulsating energy, fiery howls mixing with rousing singing, and the tempo racing, taking on a punk-like bravado. Barked cries punch as the drums are absolutely decimated, the chorus powering, and then a sinister turn emerges that leaves the remains shrouded in darkness. “Auras” is another that mixes strong singing with powerful growls, each element allowing dark and light to shine through as majestic playing jars your adrenaline. The leads lather as the playing jolts, the howl of, “Light of the north, guide us forth, we are your chosen,” making blood boil, ending in a spirited gust. “Distant Mountains, Distant Gods” sits on the edge of a storm, birds cawing, stirring guitars opening the lid. Gruff growls lash as the singing soars, the ambiance feeling glorious, trudging through electric leads and punishing shrieks. The hammer continues to drop, pounding through sludge and death, leaving a shock of ash behind. Closer “Unchain the Wolf” has the drums gutting, vile howls leaving their marks, and a tempo that feels tornadic. The howls peel back flesh as melodies gather layers, everything building to the final storm that blisters with a charge that leaves you scurrying for safety as the last blasts level the planet.

We’re all dealing with loss in some sense, and to deny that is to stunt our own growth moving forward. Oak, Ash & Thorn cover all that on “Our Grief Is Thus,” a record that blazes with melodic death metal power and also refuses to shy away from the damage we’ve taken on over our lives. It’s a rousing album that could do a small part of helping us make connections to aspects of our lives we’ve lost and try to power into a new future.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://oakashandthorn.bandcamp.com/album/our-grief-is-thus

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

Chaos and misery surround us on a daily basis as we navigate through health scares, political turmoil, and society at large being comprised of just enough assholes to make interacting with people not that worth it. People are trying to make ends meet, marginalized people want a chance to be able to live in comfort, and we balance relationships that often can be impacted by all of the above circumstances.

The members of doom crushers Heavy Temple—vocalist/bassist High Priestess Nighthawk, guitarist Lord Paisley, drummer Baron Lycan—are not immune to these things, and that comes out in fiery passion on their killer second full-length record “Garden of Heathens.” This is the trio’s second creation together (they have a slew of EPs and smaller releases with a different lineup that preceded 2021’s “Lupi Amoris”), and the connective tissue has strengthened into flexible steel as they play off one another and create a volcanic experience that should melt faces live. And yes, woven in are lyrics that dig deeper into personal territory, matters we all face, things that haunt us all, and here they are, laid to waste in volcanic madness.

“Extreme Indifference to Life” rips open with guitars reigning, sweltering, Nighthawk’s sultry howl rippling down your spine as she jabs, “I’m wasting my precious time.” The playing is gnarly and smoking, the guitars getting burlier, the soloing scorching and leaving your flesh charred. “Hiraeth” is fuzzy and punching, Nighthawk’s singing flexing, fuzzy pounding making your head spin. “Take it or leave it,” Nighthawk calls back repeatedly, the riffs encircling you in fire, everything feeling like a heat pressure build but also manages to be incredibly catchy. Everything lathers and takes you over, ending in a psychedelic storm. “Divine Indiscretion” brings heavy swagger that bubbles with attitude, the guitars taking off and making your blood boil, taking off and sprawling into a dry heat. The grime accumulates as a cauldron of ferocity overtakes you, quivering and quaking, turning up the speed and barreling toward a tornadic conclusion. “House of Warship” starts with Nighthawk calling a capella, her voice fluttering in your ears, warmth flooding over and covering you with waves, the pace burying you underneath a psyche onslaught that makes you see visions. The pace picks up and buries you under mind-altering slashing, the guitars rushing and leaving behind a velvet finish that’s coated with your sweat.

“Snake Oil (and Other Remedies)” slowly drips, the temperature rising in calculated fashion, slinking through the steam as the keys mesmerize. Nighthawk’s singing digs deep in your belly, the energy pulsating as the steamy push takes you under, the playing unwinding and spiraling. “On my knees again, waiting for you,” Nighthawk wails, everything around here feeling like an organism spiking your body temperature, leaving you gasping and writhing. “In the Garden of Heathens” is a hazy, sweeping instrumental interlude, gliding on a dusty landscape, almost like fingers tracing the sun-scorched dashboard of a 1970s Thunderbird. “Jesus Wept” brings muscular riffs and heavy crunch, the singing leaving an intoxicating aura, blowing up and snarling like an animal. The aggression builds as the playing spatters blood, psychic heat burning through your brain, pulverizing to a finish. Closer “Psychomanteum” is a thunderous instrumental, a song that would be great as a set opener for the rest of their run, that’s how volcanic it is. Guitars deface as the band hits a sudden thrashy assault, channeling glory days Metallica, coming at your bloodthirsty and hungry. The playing stomps and blazes, overflowing with flames and passion, ending the record with a knife to the heart.

Heavy Temple already had a stellar reputation coming into “Garden of Heathens,” but they take things to such a high level here, they’re becoming untouchable. Amid all the themes that run through these heat seekers is an attitude that defies the trials and tribulations that try to trip us up along our way to our destinations. This is a blazing hot record that jams its fist into your chest and refuses to let go, it’s aggression and attitude becoming so infectious, you cannot help but submit to them.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://lnk.spkr.media/heavy-temple-garden

For more on the label, go here: https://us.merhq.net/

Every one of us has a unique experience in this world, and the things that impact us and make us who we are tend to be personal, things only we, in our shells, can understand. That sometimes can make us feel like we’re alone at the pole position, battling adversity, trying to understand our own plights, and confronting changes in all forms, testing us to see what we can endure to become who we truly are.

Dool, the Dutch dark rock band that is ready to unleash their third full-length “The Shape of Fluidity,” embody that struggle. They’re human like we are, facing adversity, trying to find ourselves in a world and within a society that doesn’t always make the journey easy. For singer/guitarist Raven van Dorst, the idea of fluidity takes on even greater meaning as they work to understand who they truly are. Born intersex and surgically assigned female status after birth, they have fought through misunderstandings, taboos, and a society not always kind to people on this journey, finally embracing their hermaphroditic nature. As for the rest of the band—guitarists Nick Polak and Omar Iskandr, bassist JB van der Wal, drummer Vincent Kreyder—they back up van Dorst’s fight and also help create nine tracks and nearly 50 minutes of exciting, infectious, and genuine music that transforms this group from a promising force to one that is ready to wholly dominate.

“Venus in Flames” is a prodding opener, one that gets into your bloodstream in a hurry. The dark rock storm drives steadily, van Dorst calling, “Would you lay with your love, now the time has come?” Guitars heat up and illuminate flesh, the melodies rushing and tingling, everything fading into the sea. “Self-Dissect” blisters with humid guitars, murky and steamy, a glaze spread over everything. Melodies turn on a dime and make everything stickier, the leads searing and flooding over with attitude. The title track has guitars dripping and synth zapping, sludgier riffs taking over and flexing. “The water flows in many ways until the moment we drown,” van Dorst jabs, the clouds thickening and threatening. “For I, recklessly, carelessly, I never learned to swim out in these parts,” van Dorst admits, their vulnerability on display yet driving with determination as they call, “We dive deeper down now in lost time.” “Currents” is a brief instrumental with noise clouding, guitars waxing and waning, unloading spacey heat into “Evil in You” that starts with liquifying riffs and plodding bass. The playing is fluid and steady, steely and melodic, basking in energy and pulsating rhythms, van Dorst leveling, “I’m caught between the devil and the deep blue ocean,” as everything returns to the waters.

“House of a Thousand Dreams” is delicate and dark, talk-like singing emerging, van Dorst luring, “Come lay down in my arms.” The track ramps up from a sonic and emotional standpoint, the guitars spilling lava all over the terrain. “A new dawn is arriving,” van Dorst promises, everything bleeding out into a fever dream. “Hermagorgon” is doomy and ominous, psychedelic heat eating away at you, softer singing luring you into the shadows. “On the edges of your shadow in a tangled knot, I’ll be waiting,” they vow, “I’ll be ready for the serpent call.” The strength gets bolder from here, van Dorst’s singing drilling into your chest, the soloing exploding as the melodies add several layers of energy, coming to a burning, churning end. “Hymn for a Memory Lost” lets guitars rain down, the power heating up, lush melodies washing over your leaking wounds. The playing plods darkly as the chorus emerges, warm leads doing battle, the moodiness climaxing as zaps and jolts dash into the stars. Closer “The Hand of Creation” has drums rousing, guitars shimmering, and deeper singing digging into your psyche. Dark tensions mount as the stormy pace acts as a test of strength, van Dorst calling, “And the heavens smiled as the bellowed roars came from the sky,” an apocalyptic vision blending with buzzing energy that brings a dark finish.

Change is inevitable for all of us, though the reasons for that and forces behind us are different for everyone. Dool and van Dorst both have experienced the gamut of these experiences, and the music that makes up “The Shape of Fluidity” also demonstrates that the members of this band are not content to sit still and follow a template. This is a band that keeps growing on astonishing levels, and what Dool create on this album is a message to their audience and their doubters that they cannot be predicted or anticipated, and they’re only beginning to unearth their real powers.   

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

To buy the album, go here: http://lnk.spkr.media/dool-fluidity

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

The days of swords clashing in metal videos, when those were more of a thing, and charismatic singers who make the whole thing move seem like things of the past. Not that those things don’t exist anymore, it’s just that bands and artists who make their name including those elements seem to fly so far under the surface. It’s brutality over all.

Brooklyn-based metal force Castle Rat represent a sound and image that mostly are removed from so much modern heavy metal. The band—vocalist/guitarist Riley Pinkerton (Rat Queen), guitarist Franco Vittore (Count), bassist Ronnie Lanzilotta III (Plague Doctor), drummer Josh Strmic (The All-Seeing Druid)—zeroes in on classic metal and NWOBHM thunder on their great debut record “Into the Realm.” This feels like music that easily could have been sent here in a capsule from 1981, finding a new home in an era when this type of thing is not nearly as common. Pinkerton leading the group adds exuberant character and charisma, as it just drips off her. On top of that, their live shows are a theatrical display that would make Dio, King Diamond, and Maiden proud, as they play out the adventures of the Rat Queen on stage as their music pumps along with it.

“Dagger Dragger” is a killer opener, guitars swaggering and giving off a smoking vintage feel, Pinkerton’s singing swelling and commanding, making it absolutely certain who is in charge. There’s a Coven feel to all of this, and it’s intoxicating, the infectious darkness, the guitars that buzz with energy, and the singing that digs into your brain. “Feed the Dream” has guitars heating up and steamy singing, washing into echo and making your muscles shake. Guitars snake, encircling and blistering, and Pinkerton’s calls getting inside you, haunting your dreams. “Resurrector” is the rare bass-driven interlude you’re bound to hear, slinking into the shadows, reverberating through the earth. “Red Sands” brings guitars streaking as all sounds light up, trudging as the singing spreads, feeling witchy and bloody, the colorful sprawling flowing with force. Pinkerton’s singing  wails as the humidity clouds with force, blending out in noise.

“The Mirror” is a hypnotic interlude, the guitars steaming and slinking through your dreams, a psychedelic sheen plastered over the piece, moving into “Cry for Me” a track that opens with solemnity. “The freaks are out again,” Pinkerton calls, the playing building mystical intensity, the balladry bleeding brightly and putting a dusty edge on everything. “Got some feeling coming back,” she sings, a refrain that repeats through the back half, the track slowing bleeding out into time. “Realm” is the final interlude, a soot-black instrumental with ominous guitars and gathering clouds, moving into “Fresh Fur” that starts with a razor-sharp shriek and driving riffs. The tempo stomps and flexes, trudging into a strange cosmic warp, melting into psychedelic syrup. The singing is washed out, making it feel like water clearing from your ears, and then the guitars go off, causing smoke to billow toward the sky. Closer “Nightblood” opens in a doomy haze, Pinkerton’s singing crawling amid a gathering storm, the guitars tangling and tingling. The leads pick up and take off as the tempo scorches, Pinkerton’s singing mesmerizing, everything ending in a sonic blast.

The fantastical wonder behind “Into the Realm” is thick and real, a throwback record to a time when metal was in its formative years, and the mysteries were a little more shrouded in secrecy. Castle Rat bring back an element of wonder and storytelling, swords and shields, and bloody chainmail soaked after a hard battle. On top of that, the music is so compelling and such a good time that it’s easy to slip into the story and get carried away by the power of classic heavy metal.

For more on the band, go here: https://castleratband.bandcamp.com/album/into-the-realm-2

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

Or here (International): https://wisebloodrecords.8merch.com/

Or here (U.S.): https://kingvolume.8merch.us/

Or here (International): https://kingvolume.8merch.com/

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

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

Frustration and setbacks are annoying as all hell. You put time and effort into accomplishing something, and just as you feel you’re on the brink, everything comes crashing down, despite how hard you worked to keep it together. So, how do you come out from the other side, regain your momentum, and keep the machine going?

Bay Area death metal power Necrot might have the answer to that on “Lifeless Birth,” their third record and one that comes after a period of tumult. First, their second record “Mortal” was consumed by the pandemic, as they were not able to properly promote that thunderous effort. Then, myriad health issues popped up and sidetracked the band, burying their efforts and putting everything on hold. Luckily, the trio—vocalist/bassist Luca Indrio, guitarist Sonny Reinhardt, drummer Chad Gailey—persevered, and out came “Lifeless Birth,” a powerful, slashing affair that puts them back on track with music that’s going to crush live now that touring is in their grasp again.

“Cut the Cord” is a great opener that sucks you into the record, leads sweltering and roars pummeling, attitude dripping off every note. The thunderous chorus is one that is a trademark for this record: super simple and easy to wail back, sticky as all fuck. The leads burn and twist, leaving brain wiring smoking, heading into the title track that trudges and destroys. The guitars are blistering, speed exploding through the spidery playing, everything drubbing and making blood rush to the surface. Guitars fire up and mount a furious comeback while gutting blasts set up everything for a fiery finish. “Superior” storms the gates, drums decimating, the growls chewing away at prone flesh. Great leads build up and wrench, the bone-crushing fury adding to the pressure and also growing more infectious, vicious howls landing their marks as everything bleeds out onto the floor.

“Drill the Skull” trudges as the growls scathe, another simple, yet effective chorus worming into your head, nasty and driving playing making the bruising set in even darker. A sudden burst ripples out of the heaviness and sets everything off balance, thrashing through tornadic winds, the guitars ramping out and spattering blood. “Winds of Hell” begins with guitars swirling and creating chaos, thorny playing battering, and the tempo blowing through and twisting muscle. The leads multiply as the melodies increase and flood, and a fluid, yet fiery burst overwhelms, charring to a brutal conclusion. “Dead Memories” brings snarling guitars, growls that curdle, and a punishing pace that aims to take you apart. The soloing emerges from a blasting furnace, causing faces to melt, while forceful howls lambaste, ending in an ocean of flames. Closer  “The Curse” steamrolls, stomping guts as the leads spiral, and the howls scrape at flesh. Things grow more humid as the guitars speed and spread, throaty growls feeling like they’re dicing Idrio’s throat, leading into total darkness. Riffs drill as the heat increases, ending everything in a pool of reflective blood.

Necrot aren’t rewriting death metal’s story, but they have added many compelling chapters of their own, the latest being “Lifeless Birth.” This is steady as it comes, a full blast of death metal played with bloody fury and an emotional passion that, even while they’re peeling back your flesh, you can’t help but have a good time. Necrot survived a period that would undo most bands and delivered a devastating collection that has the band roaring back to reclaim what is theirs.

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

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

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

Hard as I try to come up with an interesting, compelling introductions to these pieces, sometimes it isn’t really necessary. We’re here today for death metal, arguably the most vile and punishing form of extreme music we know, something we’ve covered at length on this site and will into the foreseeable future. The bands that do it best and keep finding new ways to keep things bloody and interesting? We’re on board.

One of those is Portland (of the Oregon variety) powerhouse Witch Vomit and their explosive third full-length album “Funeral Sanctum” that adds another solid building block onto their formidable foundation. Over 10 tracks and 31 minutes, the band—vocalist/guitarist Tempter, guitarist CL, bassist JG, drummer Filth—adds more vitriol and melodic carnage, a thicker serving of disgusting madness, another level of warped terror they deliver with demonic glee. It’s their best record so far and one that should swell their audience as people discover this motherfucker.  

“Dying Embers” is a swelling intro track, the guitars layering in the building heat, spilling into “Endless Fall” that rips open, growls lurching like a slug. The guitars burn as the pace picks up and batters, tearing everything apart, the growls leading you into a melodic, encircling whirlpool that pulls you under. “Blood of Abomination” explodes, colorful leads scorching as vibrant melodies make you forget the sickening pain building in your guts. The ferocity mounts and lands heavy blows, ripping off into oblivion. “Serpentine Shadows” is thick with humidity, the growls eating away at you, the riffs annihilating and dumping buckets of blood. Things get much darker as the vocals twist throats, spreading foreboding horrors, slowly burning to a close. “Decaying Angelic Flesh” has guitars soaring, the temperatures frying, and the growls dealing devious, gnarly violence. Things speed up in a hurry as vile and furious howls strangle, mashing and leaving everything in dust.

“Black Wings of Desolation” is doomy when it dawns, dragging a curtain of pestilence as infernal growls grasp throats, spiraling and making maintaining balance an impossible venture. Leads twist and rampage as the heat brings everything to a boil, the relentless pace decimating and disappearing into a steam bath. “Dominion of a Darkened Realm” opens with the drums unloading and burying bodies, fiery speed taking hold, and the guitars spidering through and creating an impenetrable web. Tornadic pressure mounts, sprawling and collecting the sooty growls, squeezing until your eyes practically pop out. “Endarkened Spirits” is a minute-long destroyer as the band combines speed, filthy punishment, and growls digging into brains into a microburst you cannot outrun. “Abject Silence” delivers a late-record breather, an interlude with steamy guitars melting, making it feel like summer with the heat threatening lives, fittingly turning into closer “Funeral Sanctum” that spatters on command. The guitars twist muscle as the growls go for broke, the tempo racing and making your veins stressed over the sudden explosion of blood. The solo launches and spills over, the drums destroy, and everything ends in a fiery collision that bleeds guts.

“Funeral Sanctum” is death metal that cannot possibly let down any follower of the subgenre that dines on brutality and riffs that tie your intestines in knots. Witch Vomit have grown stronger with each release, and the added muscle and blood they inject into this album are both infectious and utterly sickening. You’re going to be punished thoroughly taking on this album, but isn’t that what we’re all here for in the first place?

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

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

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

It’s starting to get warmer here in most of the United States as spring is thawing the frozen grounds (they never got that cold to begin with over the winter) and adding pleasant breezes to the air. Oh, and there’s pollen. It doesn’t seem like the ideal setting for music that feels more frigid and icy, yet here we are, diving right back into the cold.

Australian black metal duo Austere— guitarist/bassist/keyboardist/vocalist Mitchell Keepin and drummer/keyboardist/vocalist Tim Yatras—actually are looking at colder temperatures soon, and that is what their excellent new record “Beneath the Threshold” feels like. After ending a 13-year hiatus with last year’s “Corrosion of Hearts,” they’ve responded right back with this six-track, 42-minute record that further stretches their brand of black metal into atmospheric gaze. It’s certainly not foreign from “Corrosion” and instead refines what they created there into something that explores a little deeper, adds more melodies, and mixes into stardust.

“Thrall” begins with guitars dripping, and then things suddenly ramp up and burst with life, washing through time and jarring significant atmosphere. The melodies are sweeping and fiery while the lower end trudges through deep mud, ending in a heavy shimmer. “The Sunset of Life” unloads heat-generating leads, the shrieks barreling, dark and melodic waves crashing down and trying to pull you under. The playing storms as clean singing picks up and fills your chest, guitars eventually settling and going numb. That’s temporary, though, as a strong gust picks up, rippling your heart with emotion, cascading and enveloping everything within its grasp, bringing everything to an end with hellacious fire. “Faded Ghost” opens amid dark leads, moody singing, and a frothy storm that boils over. The singing stretches as the emotion caterwauls, driving through layers of shrieks, impenetrable energy, and a pressure that slowly subsides.

“Cold Cerecloth” charges up with riffs that chew on nerves, strong singing mixing with savage shrieks, warmth and melodic gushing pushing with the pace, the harshness carving into your mind. Infectious playing merges with shadows, igniting and creating heat that aims to melt the ice around your organs, battering and coming to a cataclysmic finish. “Words Unspoken” is a brief interlude, bringing a gothic sense and acoustics, making it feel like you’re entering a mist on the edge of a dream. Closer “Of Severance” starts ferociously, ripping and tearing, gushing with power as the shrieks aim to strangle. Great power ignites as the storming increases, a slurry mix that chills your bones and leaves icy brush burns on your extremities. The playing rains down as the intensity picks up again, bringing melodic spirals that shake your foundation, lathering before finally relenting.

Austere appear to be at a creative spurt after ending their 13-year hiatus a few years ago, and “Beneath the Threshold” continues that magic and drives it forward into an even more promising future. The thorny chaos and the lush melodies mix perfectly, creating light and darkness that live perfectly together. It’s clear this band has found new life and is brimming with ideas, and taking on this record is a mental and physical experience that will leave you exhausted yet fulfilled.  

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

To buy the album, go here: http://lnk.spkr.media/austere-threshold

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

A band planning to go away for a while but leaving listeners with one last record is a cool gesture. And obviously it’s also much more than that as blood and sweat goes into making new music, but it’s still great to have fresh creations to enjoy as the players go their separate ways. It’s another jolt still when that music is like nothing the band ever created before, throwing you for a serious loop.

Destroyer of Light’s new record “Degradation Years” also came with the gut punch that its members are going on indefinite hiatus, making it clear this will be the band’s final album for a long time. If there ever comes new music again. This seven-track excursion also steers significantly away from its trademark doom metal fire, veering deep into music informed by ’90s-era alternative and post-punk, though they don’t abandon their recipe totally. The band—vocalist/guitarist Steve Colca, guitarist Keegan Kjeldsen, bassist Mike Swarbrick, drummer Kelly Turner—put together a smart, compelling 40 minutes that leaves bruising behind but also makes one wonder what else these artists are capable of making.

“Cruel World” instantly signals that things are different musically, this piece about Chris Cornell instantly pushing you into cold fog, the guitars boiling as Colca’s strong, confident singing unties the knot. “And now I cry at night knowing we should die,” he calls, also kind of signaling 1990s Ozzy, bringing the track to a burning finish. “Waiting for the End” brings shimmering guitars and a moody ’80s feel, the post-punk-style vibes running down your spine. The chorus bursts and is catchy as hell, and as Colga sings, “There’s a reason why you never sleep at night,” you feel the anxiety creeping. The leads add new layers, a dark, hazy tempo lulls you into false security, and the playing disappears into the shadows. “Perception of Time” starts clean with a synth haze, parts feeling inspired by Pink Floyd’s darkest moods, especially vocally. Guitars create a fog as warmth boils, guitars bubble over, and then trudging bursting returns, reminding you these guys still carry a jagged blade.

“Failure” opens with cold leads and the bass driving, Colca’s voice coming at you with both a low and high stream as he harmonizes with himself. Doomy chugging arrives before things turn mystical, the heat exploding out of that, fiery playing increasing the temperature. “I live with regret,” Colca calls as the track slowly spirals down, the guitars sliding deep into the dirt. “Man With No Name” feels more reflective as the guitars drip, the singing drives, and a dark, foreboding sense begins creeping slowly. The singing gets doomier, the guitars bursting and scathing, bleeding directly into “Blind Faith” that begins faster and gnarlier. Melodic singing and gutting guitars team up, Colca wails, “Fight the terror you create, follow rules and do as they say,” as the track thrashes away. Closer “Where I Cannot Follow” is solemn as it starts, the singing rising, guitars blazing as the doom bricks drop. The tempo begins to chew into muscle, the fiery soloing soaring, sorrowful melodies mixing like streaks of blood in water, ending in ash and flames.

Destroyer of Light’s final salvo (at least for now) is their most unexpected album yet as “Degradation Years” shows you an entirely different side of the band musically. There remains some fiery doom for which they’re best known, but these new wrinkles show they’re capable of a lot more, which we get to experience in generous servings. If we don’t hear from the band for a while, or ever again, they left us with a thought-provoking, musically diverse collection that is exciting, dark, and powerful, something that will stick in your mind well into the future.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://destroyeroflight.bandcamp.com/album/degradation-years

Hurtling through cosmic hell, your brain is trying to make sense of what’s in front of you, what you’re seeing, what you’re sensing. If you’re really experiencing those things. What the hell is happening as you absorb the menacing music that’s coursing through your veins, that your brain is processing, is that you’re travelling elsewhere, suddenly thrust into a terrifying experience you never saw coming.

“Oracular Hexations,” the new record from Diabolic Oath, is a  goddamn hallucination pressed into a record. This second record from this three-headed beast—Ominous Void, Chthonic Conqueror, and The Temple, whose roles are not made apparent other than all three contribute the terrifying vocals—is a deep dive into metallic psychosis, an experience that’s here to stand not only as mere songs but as a psychological experience designed to remove you from this realm. The record feels like a purposely formless being taking shape, and every time it returns, it resembles something completely different. Each time you hear it, the experience changes, robbing you of any chance to feel secure in your journey because every turn is violent and unpredictable.

“Rusted Madness Tethering Misbegotten Haruspices” bludgeons right away, total death mauling everything in its wake, growls retching as it rolls through filth. Guitars unload before a brief halt, and then the drums burst, harsh calls coming in shrieks and growls, swirling menace disappearing into hell. “Serpent Coils Suffocating the Mortal Wound” is tricky when it opens, making the room spin violently, strangling howls foaming at the mouth. The intense fury coats strange calls, riffs that liquify, and growls that aim for the throat. A manic pace punishes as panic ensues, disappearing into a poisonous aura.  “Winged Ouroboros Mutating Unto Gold” trudges through shrieks that rain down, and a spindly, twisting assault that makes breathing mostly impossible. Guitars unwind as the pressure warps, the howls are buried under ash, and crazed playing unloads, sickening as the final moments leave you nauseous.

“Fragmented Hymns from the Globulous Cruciger” spirals through a nasty pace, stomping through mud and blood, the howls scorching as the playing slashes flesh. The guitars tangle and mystify, feeling rubbery and slurring, slathering saliva onto festering wounds. “Gathering Hordes from the Outer Worlds” wooshes on poisonous winds before guitars begin to chug, battering and clobbering, moving toward sickening growls. Guitars swell as the bone-crushing fury multiplies, slicing through flesh and bone, creating a psychologically damaging atmosphere that fucks with your mind. Infernal scorching turns into mesmerizing heat, punishing and ripping before disappearing into a disarming aura dressed with mournful organs. Closer “Oracular Hexations Leeching” attacks right away, the guitars menacing and sinking in teeth, the growls gurling as the playing ransacks with hypnotic horror. Growls incinerate before growing maniacal while the drums blister, and devious terrors make you wonder if safety is even possible. Drums menace and splatter as a synth hazer drops, chaos disappearing into a cosmic void.

“Oracular Hexations” is intended as a series of spells acting as a collection that is meant to mesmerize and cause you to see things that aren’t there. It’s not that Diabolic Oath hasn’t created tracks you can pull out and listen to individually, but this is a record that operates ideally as a whole so you can absorb the entire experience. This is a creation that will challenge you physically, push you mentally, and make you absorb portions of darkness you’d never been able to digest before.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://sentientruin.com/releases/diabolic-oath-oracular-hexations

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

Navigating through one’s personal darkness certainly is not an easy thing to manage, much less try to quell so normal activities each day can go on as usual. There are people suffering from any number of afflictions that they keep on the inside, that many people in their lives never see or understand, and trying to get through that can be utter and complete hell.

Livgone can be described as atmospheric dark rock bordering on doom, and their debut record “Almost There” recounts the trials and tribulations of battling anorexia nervosa and the physical and psychological manifestations that come with dealing with that disorder. The darkness, hopelessness, and weakness that goes with such a struggle is woven into the music, and the band—vocalist Elise Aranguren, Emil Svensson, Michal Kielbasa—transform that into a world of wondrous sonic exploration that tries to tunnel its way into a means of finally finding oneself.

“Walk to Derealization” is a fantastical intro and opener, serene and dreamy sounds mixing together, heading into “Silverstone” where guitars drop gold dust, and the tempo starts pounding. Aranguren’s singing soars and digs in, feeling jarring and powerful, gushing into the shadows. The playing bursts as the singing sweeps, Aranguren continually calling, “Which part of you?” “Hypoesthesia” is the longest track, running 10:29 and unfurling cold and fog, the singing stretching toward the sky. A gazey flow increases, soft singing ringing in the air, Aranguren’s enrapturing voice making everything feel increasingly hypnotic. That’s when things take a strange turn toward the cosmos, sifting past the stars, going into reaches unexplored, hovering life a spacecraft until the end.

“Watching Them Feel” jars with sharp guitars and Aranguren calling into the sky, the leads shimmering out of time. The keys sheen as the singing surges, exploding with power as strings pulse, the energies rise, and the sound burns off into the distance. “Dance So I Can” runs 7:25, and organs swell, the power jolting and tingling, the pressure coming on and warping the senses. Weird, almost circus-like synth layers, making the room spin, and then the guitars add a jolt of electricity, strings gliding playfully. The singing cascades as the keys drip, dissolving into the earth. “J’y Suis Presque” lands with acidic guitars and gazey fire gushing, Aranguren’s hushed words in French as if she’s whispering it in your ear. A storm cloud hangs overhead, dark and ominous, causing chills to spark shivering, sounds rushing into the atmosphere. Closer “There” swells as strange ambiance fills your head, noises zap, and you’re immersed in a dream world. Drips of sound shake and pierce your imagination, slowly disappearing into the frost.

The darkness and disillusion are thick and apparent on “Almost There,” events and emotions that have become far too common for so many of us. Livgone capture the struggle with one’s emotions and inner turmoil and make that despair something one can address with cosmic sounds and the chance to try to heal. This record manages to stand alone musically and philosophically in the heavy music world, and while it’s a product of pain and torment, it’s also a beacon hope in the relentless fog.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.svartrecords.com/en/product/livgone-almost-there/12037

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