My love for smaller and boutique metal and heavy music labels had to start somewhere. Everyone like me would feel the same. At some point, you stumble across someone who puts out music that feels like exactly what you’d do in the same position, only you’re not as ambitious and as savvy as the person releasing this music. But you secretly feel like whoever started the label did it for people like you.

I’m an unabashed fan of Gilead Media and its owner Adam Bartlett. I’m lucky enough to call him a friend, and I’ll upfront admit that because this is a critical piece, and I have never-ending anxiety, I don’t want the words that follow to be skewed. There’s a documentary on Bartlett, Gilead Media, and 2018’s Migration Fest that took place at Mr. Smalls in Millvale, Pa., super close to my house and one of my favorite weekends of my life. I remember being at the gym hours before it and listening to Thou’s “Rhea Sylvia” and thinking this is something I’m going to remember forever. I didn’t know it would be a transformative weekend of my life. But it was. But this isn’t about me.

“A Wandering Path: The Story of Gilead Media” is a documentary created, written, and directed by Michael Dimmitt of Mutilation Rites about Bartlett, Gilead Media, and Migration Fest that is touring film festivals and is an incredible experience. Admittedly, if you’re not a fan of the label or its bands, you might feel like you’re on the outside looking in on this entire world. But this feels like a film made for Gilead devotees and its bands, the people who filled Mr. Smalls and swear by every Gilead release because you know the music will deliver every time. And there’s enough here to explain who Bartlett is, who the main players are for Gilead Media, and why Migration Fest was a spiritual and communal experience its followers cherish completely. 

The story of the label is interwoven throughout the film, and as the journey goes, we meet each band that has been pivotal to the label and formed the foundation of what Bartlett does. Well, there’s one exception. Panopticon and its leader Austin Lunn get a lot of focus, and they are not actually on Gilead Media. But Lunn’s words and Bartlett’s urging him to finally take his band to the live setting is what makes that union so vital. Panopticon appeared on both versions of Migration Fest, and Seidr performed at the 2014 version of Gilead Fest, so their relationship goes back a long way. Lunn explains why Bartlett’s urging, which at times were purposely antagonistic (“You’re afraid,” is one of his jabs to get his friend to perform live with Panopticon), and Lunn credits him with pushing him to take his band to the next level. It’s a cool, touching story, and being able to see the band live at Migration in 2018 is a life highlight. No exaggeration whatsoever. So, thanks, Adam.

As these stories are told, we see sections at a time. We see Bartlett in his Oshkosh, Wisc., record store Eroding Winds (which now has two locations) as he prepares for the journey to Pittsburgh (Millvale is the home of Mr. Smalls, which is just a few miles from downtown) and his coworkers helping him for the mission. We meet his wife Cari and his mother Lora as we learn more about Bartlett’s upbringing (childhood photos and video included), we see his pups (with a closeup on the late, great Tater), and the seeds planted for the birth of Gilead Media in 2005 (the name in inspired by the “Dark Tower” series by Stephen King). We get a running tally through the piece of important Gilead releases throughout the label’s existence, starting with Crossing the Atlantic, A Scanner Darkly, …Of Sinking Ships, and the Cancer Conspiracy. From there, we get small segments on each band that’s been a major contributor for the label as well as a thorough timeline of those key records.

We encounter the uncomfortable and punishing Couch Slut, whose singer Megan Osztrosits bloodily recounts her stage antics, the pain and agony behind performing songs that have so many stories of the sexual trauma and harassment she exorcises on stage. The fact that other women relate their stories and appreciate how she exposes these horrors helps them deal, which she acknowledges. Live, she’s an utter typhoon, but that awe you’re in is informed by the horrors she faced. Of course there’s Thou, the band Gilead Media became known for, and the live portion from their Migration Fest performance centers on newest member KC Stafford and their incredible performance on “The Hammer.” It also shows how loose and not seriously the bands takes itself, and testimonials from Emma Ruth Rundle, who also is widely featured, and Blood Incantation/Leech member Paul Riedl give deeper insight.

Black metal wizards Krallice have had a long journey with Gilead, that we see here from its beginning, and we get a look at how their collaboration with Neurosis’ Dave Edwardson came to be. By the way, Edwardson’s speaking voice sounds eerily like Nick Offerman’s. We then move to West Cornwall, CT., and Yelping Hill, the site where Yellow Eyes write and record their music. The Skarstad brothers explain what their music means to them as artists and also display some of their homemade instruments that are responsible for the otherworldly sounds on their records.

A dash to the Pacific Northwest covers Mizmor and Hell, as well as the wild Eternal Warfare, and how their bands have become familiar affairs. We see the early days of Sorceress that featured A.L.N. of Mizmor and M.S.W. of Hell in a more traditional doom band before we see how each group formed out of that and still involve each other. A note I forgot over the years is M.S.W. breaking his leg skateboarding and A.L.N. potentially having to find a fill-in drummer for the Mizmor Migrations spot. If you don’t know how that ends, I won’t ruin it for you. A.L.N. also further explains how he went from studying the bible overseas on his path of faith to the first Mizmor album that was devotional music to how his faith eroded and disintegrated over time. He’s a fascinating interview, and his excursion is inspirational and painful, a plight that’s not foreign to many in the metal landscape and beyond.

Before we end up at Migration, we get a quick look at Mutilation Rites, which has Wiegedood hilariously roasting them as the “most dysfunctional band” they’re ever toured with, noting, “Europe hates Mutilation Rites.” It’s a joke. I think.

We finally end up at Migration Fest weekend, July 27-29, 2018, and we see the end of the journey, Barlett and co-creator Dave Adelson of 20 Buck Spin talking about how everything came to be, and performances from Pyrolatrous, Fórn, and the bands we already met, Tanner Anderson (of Obsequiae who played keys with Pantopticon) praising Mr. Smalls’ sound as they gush over the weekend. It’s a lovefest, basically, and anyone in attendance at the festival knows it felt that way the entire weekend. It was an incredible event spearheaded by Bartlett and Adelson, an event that was to have a third version in 2020 until the pandemic struck.

“A Wandering Path” is an intimate piece about a man who has sacrificed sanity to see through his mission, Bartlett being a longtime fan of heavy music who has been a credit to underground bands and helped introduce some incredibly important artists people love. Getting to see the players away from the stage and speaking honestly from the heart both about their art, the label, and the festival is such a wonderful experience. You get real humanity, a lot of humor, and the desire and care each of these artists put into their creations. It’s impossible to walk away from this not liking every single person featured. That’s on top of some of the very heavy subjects of abuse, sexual assault, religious indoctrination, and the grief of losing important people that are matters with which so many of us can relate. Perhaps someone watching will connect to one of these people’s stories and realize they’re not alone and also can find the will to fight.

For longtime Gilead Media fans, this is a real treat, a chance to get to know everything and everyone a little better, and the way Dimmitt presents everything moves quickly but still leaves you more knowledgeable and engaged that once everything comes to an end, it feels like a full journey you’ve taken. Even if you’re not as familiar, you still can come away with enough insight to move forward and dig into Gilead and these bands, giving you a crash course into a record label built by love, courage, determination, and will, which you easily can glean from every human being featured on this great documentary.

“A Wandering Path: The Story of Gilead Media” will be screened at Richmond International Film Festival in Richmond, Va., Sept. 27 at 9:50 p.m. at the Byrd Theater. There’s a meet and greet from 8-9 p.m. at Plan 9 Music across the street from the theater.

For more on the film, go here: https://www.awanderingpath.com/

For more on Gilead Media, go here: https://gileadmedia.net/

To get a ticket to the screening, go here: https://riff.eventive.org/schedule/638f72c7b2572f005bee804b

For more on the festival, go here: https://www.rvafilmfestival.com/

Putting on a record and immediately feeling a jolt of energy is nothing out of the ordinary. Most bands want to start with their best foot forward, pulling you into their newest collection of songs by grabbing you and making everything seem so exciting. But how many albums have great starts only to lose momentum over the course of the thing? Most of them? It’s not an easy thing to do, make a record that keeps your blood pumping front to back, but it can be done.

Seattle’s Filth Is Eternal are proof of that, which they prove on their great new record “Find Out,” a 14-track pounder that has absolutely no down time. Punk, grunge, metal, and hardcore all jam themselves into the recipe, and everything here sounds vital and pumping blood, making this a record that will fly by before you know what hit you. The band— vocalist Lis Di Angelo, guitarist Brian McClelland, drummer Emily Salisbury—build on what they unfurled on their debut “Love Is a Lie, Filth Is Eternal” and made it even more expressive and explosive, covering subject matter as varied and vital as mental health, addition, and relationship issues. There are some strains of their early days as Fucked and Bound, but there’s a different energy, a musical maturity that isn’t stuffy and still takes chances, leaving you guessing what’s coming next in the nest way possible. Also, Di Angelo is a charismatic, charged-up singer who reminds me of something in between Joan Jett and Mannequin Pussy’s Missy Dabice, their delivery like no one else’s, my attention totally theirs as these songs rampage over me.

“Half Wrong” gets going with guitars storming, Di Angelo’s spirited howls, and the playing driving hard, the drumming blasting with power. “My longest nights, let me go forever,” Di Angelo calls as the fire sparks, and we’re headed right into “Crawl Space” that’s instantly infectious. The singing scorches as the guitars playing is catchy as fuck, the pace opening and sprawling, blistering with jarring force. “Magnetic Point” brings pounding riffs and pushy singing, the ferocity feeling like something you can reach out and touch. Di Angelo lashes, “Private pain, public tether, let us break even together,” before declaring, “I want you to feel my spirit,” as everything leaves the earth quaking. “Cherish” has burly riffs and a grungy vibe, the singing echoing as punches land, punk-fueled fervor bruising your knees. Things are gruff and muscular, blasting out into “Roll Critical” that is nasty and faster, coming at you like a freight train, Di Angelo howling, “Catch your breath while you find it, what you don’t know can hurt you, don’t lose sway.” The pace is pounding and twisting, blasting out with sinister intent. “Curious Thing” is speedy and energetic, the singing raspier and throatier, melodies jabbing as we spiral into a pile of filth. “Into the Curve” sizzles with great melodies, metallic edges that bloody noses, the force growing increasingly more tornadic. “I can feel the dark void coming,” Di Angelo wails, “and the only way forward and through it all is to let the dark void come for you.”

“Pressure Me” is fast and thrashy, combustible elements all around, fluid viciousness coming right for your throat with no intention of letting up the fight. “Body Void” is grinding and filthy, fun and rhythmic, the guitars blazing as Di Angelo enthusiastically shouts, “Let’s go!” Chants rouse, guitars bubbling over, and a piledriving force keep this track brawling and aiming for your adrenaline. “The Gate” starts with the drums leading the charge, grungy guitar work feeling like the glory days of three decades ago, and everything is aggressive and defiant, Di Angelo howling, “I’m gonna break this thing apart, I will find my way out of here.” “Signal Decay” is watery and darker, heading into murkier, more uncertain territory. The guitars then heat up as everything gets more intense, Di Angelo calling, “But I’m not alone in this lonely place, so how long can we keep it here?” as everything barrels away. Fucking great track. “All Mother” begins with a Motorhead-like riff that’s always welcome, as the rest of the band rips through and leaves gaping holes and chaos. Shrieks breathe fire as the madness increases, ending in a torching ferocity. “Last Exit” is fast and strikes hard, the vocals coming out as shouts, the punk vibes ripping through your nervous system. The bass leads the way as the atmosphere haunts, pounding away as the shrieks tear as you like knives. Closer “Loveless” feels doomier and darker, moving sludgier and with a dark heart. The vocals peels at your flesh, Di Angelo belting, “Saturn devours his son, time set is almost come, why must I die one day at a time?” The hammers keep falling, poking at wounds not healing, shoving your face in the mud as you heave trying to gasp for a breath.

Filth Is Eternal pour a lot of different subject matters and means with which to deal with them into “Find Out,” and it’s a good idea to take a few trips with this record so you can fully absorb everything going on over these 14 tracks. This band feels sharper, heavier, more certain than ever before, and the feelings you’re left with once the record ends, no matter which listen you’re on, will sit with you long after the sounds cease. It’s also a killer sounding record, the best stuff Filth Is Eternal has done so far, and an indication that we’re just on the cusp of this band becoming something special.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://mnrkheavy.com/collections/filth-is-eternal

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

There are a few types of releases we tend not to write about just because they’re things that don’t make me especially excited to detail. Live albums, compilations, re-recordings, and cover albums really aren’t that exciting to me from a place where I want to devote words and work. It’s not the artists’ fault at all, and there are plenty of good releases from that category worth your time and money. It’s me.

That said, Waldgeflüster’s new EP “Unter bronzenen Kronen” is an exception to that self-imposed rule for a few reasons. First, there is new material here, which is thunderous and weighty, perhaps a sign of where things go next. The covers (one an updated version of their own song) actually add a new sonic understanding to the tracks and aren’t just regurgitated versions. The tracks also provide a glimpse of what led Waldgeflüster to be what it is, important building blocks of inspiration that practically act as musical DNA. Oh, and we love Waldgeflüster, so their records always will get consideration because there’s plenty of content that fires up our hearts. This four-track EP explodes with love and passion for the music and the artists whose tracks get new life, and the band—vocalist Winterherz, guitarists Dominik Frank and Markus Frey, bassist Avagr, drummer Thomas Birkmaier (Nostarion plays
cello on “The Pit”)—delivers repeatedly on an EP that is beefier than most.

The title track begins with a huge melodic gust, shrieks raining down and pelting the ground, everything flush with intense melodies. A sunny and hazy deluge breaks through, Winterherz’s shrieks going for broke, the infectious passion getting into your bloodstream and helping you feel every ounce of the energy. Clean singing works in, bellowing and digging deep into your chest, another massive burst strikes, and everything settles into the cold. “The Pit” is a cover of the Panopticon track from their 2020 split with Aerial Ruin. It’s not the first Panopticon track they’ve covered as they did a version of “Norwegian Nights” on a split with that band, and this one is just a tremendous rendition. It’s one of Austin Lunn’s darker, more self-critical songs, and Waldgefluster handles that with devastation and digging deep into the sentiment of the track, and it’s a spellbinding take, giving the bluegrass-fed song full black metal treatment. “Herbst befiel das Land MMXXIII” is an updated version of a track that appeared on their 2009 full-length debut “Herbstklagen” and it’s full of deeper clean singing, thunderous flooding, and enough emotion to pump your chest full of passion. The track storms and surges, making it feel like a thick nighttime fog is spreading across the land, choking out the lights. Closer “Black Flies” is a cover of the Ben Howard song from his 2011 album “Every Kingdom.” It’s doomy and jolting, adding metallic fire to the piece and adding even more urgency to the line, “No man is an island, oh, this I know, but can’t you see, oh? Or maybe you were the ocean when I was just a stone.” Awesome take.

We tend not to do a lot of covers albums just because so often I find them uninspired or an excuse for a cash grab. But not here. Waldgeflüster always are reliable, and these songs they reinterpret seem like vital parts of their creative canon, pieces that made this band what it is. The new track is a killer too, and this is anything but a stopgap release and more a way to celebrate the past while looking toward their future.

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

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

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

The disintegration of a relationship is one of the more unpleasing, frustrating, mentally annihilating experiences a person can endure. The agony and uncertainty alone are enough to abandon the whole idea and just live in the misery you know. Then the process of ending the union, be it personal, romantic, business, etc. can make you live in self-doubt just in case you did the wrong thing.

Great Fall’s cataclysmic new record “Objects Without Pain” goes down that bloodied road, reliving the pain and anger of separating from someone or something you know and love. From the moment it gets under way, the pressure is palpable, the emotion pouring from the heart as if blood from a mortal wound. In fact, the band itself did go through the ending of a long relationship when vocalist/guitarist Demian Johnston and bassist Shane Mehling parted ways with drummer Phil Petrocelli and replaced him with Nickolis Parks, and that new trio fires on all cylinders on this record. You easily can apply what’s going on here to any similar events on your own life, simmering in the sour feelings and imminent heartbreak of bringing a partnership to a bitter conclusion. Also, this Great Falls got some collaborative help from the Australian indie rock band Great ~ Falls, as their singer Lillian Albazi provides her voice here to further enrich these harrowing songs.

“Dragged Home Alive” slowly dawns and sets in its claws before wrenching howls gut you, turning on the intensity. Albazi makes her first appearance as she whispers, “Wait, there’s no escape,” a harbinger of the chaos to come as everything comes unglued. “There is no escape from this place!” Johnston wails as the walls come down, crushing with weight and power, smothering as the guitars ache, wails jolt, and the noise spills out. “Trap Feeding” bludgeons right away, the yells working their way down your spine, whipping and wrecking, the playing penetrating your sanity. The guitars spike and torment, sludgy trucking pounding its way in, devastation blinding you and putting your patience to the test, torching and leaving festering wounds. “Born As an Argument” has guitars engulfing out of a burst of noise, the cries scathing and scratching at wounded flesh, everything feeling frustrated and on fire. In fact, things turn even more volcanic before calm finally enters, cooling your pained nerves. Albazi’s voice calls out from the distance, layers thicken, and we bleed into “Old Words Worn Thin” that rivets with strange beats before it’s on top of you, chewing your face off. Mangled howls twist muscles as the mashing assault makes it feel like the room is spinning, the ground rumbles, and the yells rattle your eardrums. Things settle as damaged strains ring out, only for everything to tear open again, a shocking, boiling force coming at you with no mercy, screams rampaging, all of the elements burning on a pile.

“Spill Into the Aisle” opens with Albazi whispering, haunting your dreams, the bass emerging and chugging, savage howls rushing down a hill, barreling toward you. The bruising fury continues to gnaw at you, everything aggravates the pain that just won’t subside, vicious guitars aching and resting your head in its quivering lap. “Ceilings Inch Closer” eases in, letting the emotion take hold before everything comes unglued. Guitars race and slide into mud, the wiry panic eating at your mind, melting over circuit boards like an old candle flowing and hardening. The moody clouds part for a striking storm, going off as guitars slice and the vocals attack with closed fists, the noise endlessly ringing in your ears. “The Starveling” brings noise that chills, an unhinged gallop that feels like pins and needles all over, the tar overcoming and dragging you under. Noise layers stymie as all of the element lay waste, pummeling with crazed howls, angling out with abrasive force. Closer “Thrown Against the Waves” runs 12:40, and it drains every last bit of strength you have left inside of you. The assault is insanely heavy, going in and out of warmth and freezing, throbbing and thrashing with ill intent. The drums then mash as the playing lumbers, melting and stretching flesh, feeling like a rainy, saturating front that is just getting under way. That blends into the final sequence, a long run that’s built with colors rushing, blistering howls, and a total psychological blasting that twists and turns, disappearing into an unforgiving steam.

“Objects Without Pain” sounds like a mental downfall after a long-simmer dissolution, the final realization that everything is irreconcilable and permanently broken. You can feel that in every note, every word, every dash of power that creates the structure of these eight songs. It’s an incredibly emotional, devastating record, one that feels like a cry for help to extinguish something that’s long since worn out its welcome and needs to be put to rest for good.

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

To buy the album (US), go here: https://neurotrecordings.merchtable.com/artists/great-falls

Or here (UK): https://deathwishinc.eu/collections/neurot

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

I appreciate being surprised by bands that I have followed for a long period of time. Sure, it’s always haywire when a band changes too much or throws curveballs that don’t work (Sleater Kinney still haven’t recovered from that St Vincent record), but you still can admire the refusal to stand pat to see where their talents take them. Some people are better at this than others.

There are no Baroness records that sound the same or even close. The long-running band started at the throne of sludge and doom and slowly morphed into something different each album, yet always maintaining a very recognizable DNA. That’s never been more apparent than on their sixth record “Stone,” the second with their currently and arguably best lineup—vocalist/guitarist John Baizley, guitarist/vocalist Gina Gleason, bassist Nick Jost, and drummer Sebastian Thomson. It also features some of their grittier, heavier material since 2007’s “Red Album,” and there’s an anger and anxiety that rips through the center of a lot of these songs. But there’s also beauty, triumph, and a creative and spiritual rebirth you can hear in these triumphant songs. It’s also notable Gleason takes a much bigger role here both with her guitar work and singing, and it helps this version of the band truly develop into what it is now, which is Baroness’ finest form.

“Embers” is a rustic and colorful intro track where nature meets psychedelic wonders, acoustics and soft singing bridging the gap, moving onto “Last Word” that chugs with power. The playing is burly and electric, the chorus simple but incredibly impactful, the magic amplifying and powering your blood. “When I am wired to oblivion, I’m closer to the end, we all become the setting sun, we have nowhere left to run,” Baizley calls as the soloing launches and burns, he and Gleason’s voices uniting, the first of many times this happens on the record. The pace gets more propulsive, guitars build, and the end chars.  “Beneath the Rose” delivers jolts and iron-sharp riffs, punchy talk singing, and a mood that’s decidedly more sinister and bloody than we expect from Baroness. “When you’re hanging from the rafters in my attic, you know I’ll never let you down,” Baizley seethes, a burly push making the pressure mount, a fucking fantastic chorus kicking your ass as everything ends in sludgy hammering. “Choir” trudges as the vocals burn like a tattoo gun, howls scathing as the guitars drip mind-altering syrups. “I know they’re out to get me, but they haven’t gotten me yet,” Baizley jabs, the darkness increasing and feeling like meaty midsection of a horror film. “The Dirge” is a short, folkish piece where Baizley and Gleason blend their voices, bringing down your blood pressure from what preceded it, as they unite to call out, “I know my breath is failing, now my time is up.”

“Anodyne” slides in with a filthy riff, your mind boiling as Baizley howls, “Take me to the ocean, lead me through the waves, hold me underwater,” as the psyche heaviness becomes a factor. The riffs mangle as the power consolidates, group “ah-ah” calls making the torment seem breezier, the playing ending abruptly with electric surges. “Shine” is moody and simmering, a more introspective track that bleeds vulnerability. “Did I go too far soaring higher and higher? If I touch the sun, will I shine forever?” Baizley posits as the guitars spread their wings, and the playing begins to thrash with energy. Dual vocals make the surge even more impressive, the playing continues to sink in its teeth, the steely bassline acting as a paved highway into oblivion. “Magnolia” drips in, Gleason singing lead and bringing a totally different vibe to the record. The playing moves softly, but you know the jabs are coming, and when they do, things get properly heated. “Now that you’re falling, I know I was wrong to let you go,” Baizley calls, the guitars beginning to lather as the blade penetrates flesh and muscle under your ribcage, the messages bleeding into the sea. “Under the Wheel” starts with strings and then a solid post-punk vibe, the vocals pulled back as the darkness is allowed to flourish. “Burning, I’m on fire, when we’re gone, what will remain?” Baizley wails, the playing trudging, the expression feeling raw and bruised. The guitar work turns more somber, feeling like a dirge to the late evening as oranges and purples wash the sky. “Bloom” closes the album and enters amid acoustics, slurry melodies, Baizley and Gleason singing as if on a back porch as the world burns around us all. “I wouldn’t stay here if I could leave,” they call, feeling like a noiry fever dream. “Home, where we go, will you bury me back home?” is a sentiment that stabs the heart, bleeding down exposed flesh and dripping onto the floor.

Baroness have a rich, varied catalog leading up to “Stone,” yet this might be their most surprising and rewarding record among them. This current lineup seems to have jelled, as they show their power and dexterity throughout this record, proving what time, pain, patience, and the bravery of creativity with no fear can bring to a band. I liked this record from listen one, but every time I go back, I sink deeper into its clutches, each song taking a piece of my heart and mind, making me thankful yet again that I was lucky enough to exist at the same time as Baroness.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://baroness.lnk.to/STONE

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

One does not just shake the tension, pain, and total upheaval that the global pandemic forced us all to experience. Lives changed, some ended, the world was torn apart even further, and people’s purposeful stupidity made matters even worse and put others in jeopardy. We can’t just shake those times. They’re a part of us, and our recovery will last far into the future.

Canadian metallic noise veterans KEN mode have been dealing with that time period over the course of their art, and we get a second serving of that with “Void.” A companion piece to last year’s stunning “Null,” this eight-track bruiser isn’t a retread of that album at all. It’s very different sonically and personality wise, and its songs are the result of the sadness and disappointment that resulted from dealing with the height of the pandemic. The band—vocalist/guitarist/synth player Jesse Matthewson, bassist/backing vocalist Skot Hamilton, saxophone/synth and piano player, backing vocalist Kathryn Kerr, drummer Shane Matthewson—created this album at the same time as “Null,” and they make for an excellent one-two punch that features some of the band’s most inspired work to date.

“The Shrike” opens and slowly builds, but before you know it, the intensity has spiked. “There’s no escape from our mistakes,” Jesse seethes, the steam rising and aggravating wounds, a muddy haze suddenly developing hanging over as the drumming mashes its body into the dirt. “Painless” prowls with a thick bassline, flexing muscle as the drums drive the verses, the sax playing bringing equal measures of calm and panic. “You are all alone,” Jesse pokes, “Most wish you were never here,” as the heat wilts, blurring your vision. “These Wires” is an incredible piece, a 7:54 slow burner that’s the most different thing on either of their most recent two records. The guitars are moody, keys dripping, and Jesse speak singing, unloading the burden with, “I do not feel like this will ever end.” Things ignite as Jesse howls, “Why would anything feel right again?” a sentiment that weighs down hard, the ominous tones making it clear that things are not comfortable. “I can’t feel like this much longer,” Jesse admits, seeming on the verge of defeat, slowly draining into the ground. “We’re Small Enough” is a strange one, a track that slips into sci-fi synth fog, the band feeling as proggy as they ever have. The alien terrain sucks blood from your veins, sweltering in the thick air, slipping out into darkness.

“I Cannot” is sinewy and wastes no time doling out punishment, the shrieks blasting away, guitars catching fire and amplifying the heaviness. Scathing pressure adds to the torment, Kerr’s sax crawls in and adds noise squalls, chewing at your nerve endings as it makes your brain sizzle. “A Reluctance of Being” is impossibly dark, Jesse dourly admitting, “I’m never going to be OK,” a sentiment he repeats as the playing sinks deeper into the soot. Noise kicks up as the sludge factor becomes more pronounced, the howls carving away at you. The pace picks up as the bass thickens, Jesse changing the thought to, “I’ll never let you be OK,” as sounds sizzle, sax swings hard toward the unsteady, and the final stab of, “We’re never going to be OK,” uniting us in misery. “He Was A Good Man, He Was A Taxpayer” brings stinging guitars and an overcast pall, the track slowly battering as you fall apart. “We will never learn,” Jesse levels, synth wafting into a ’70s style vibe, fire finally raining down as everything ends with the pronouncement, “Now that I’m gone, you’re free.” “Not Today, Old Friend” brings the record to an end by toying with your emotions, speak singing jabbing, the darkness thickening as the sax wafts like a ghoul. Isolation builds as the walls close in, Jesse biting back with, “And isn’t that what matters? That you’ve been thanked? Whether or not I even remember your name?” as sadness pulls us under forever.

“Void” finishes off an incredible two-album trip that has given us some of the most combustible, memorable songs on their entire run, which is saying something considering the weight of their catalog. This record is even more indicative of what they can accomplish in this form, Kerr really leaning into the record and dashing it with some of her own colors. Every moment of KEN mode’s music is deep and personal, and records like these linger, sticking in your mind for days on end.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://kenmode.bandcamp.com/album/void

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

Christianity is a weird thing. It has a much darker side than its followers are willing or maybe even are able to admit, and its claws are in everything. For example, in this country, more and more public policy is using the Bible as a guiding force, despite its tenets not applying to all of the people it would govern. This is hardly a new phenomenon, as we’ve seen this same thing repeatedly for centuries.

Roots of the Old Oak aren’t explicitly pasting that message all over their thunderous debut full-length “The Devil and His Wicked Ways,” but those lessons sure are baked into the DNA. Over eight doom-drenched, death-driven pounders-, the band—vocalist/guitarist Pete Rowland, bassist Mike Rowland,
drummer/vocalist Stuart R. Brogan—pay homage to the old gods, to whom their reverence remains, and stand in defiance with those who fought the arrival of Christianity so many years ago and had it rammed down their throats. The music here is powered by the refusal to give in and is painted generously by metal’s great history and the sounds that made it a force with which to fight back.

“I Defy Thee” opens with wind whipping, whispers riding the waves, and the power crashing down, a doomy and dark storm making the beginning foreboding. The playing feels ceremonial at times, regal at others, always devastating as the funereal pace storms and dissolves into the earth. “Cheating the Hangman” brings buzzing riffs and muscular growls, the playing even leaning toward gothy at times. “I will not beg, I will not scream,” Rowland howls rebelliously, the drubbing and lurching fire eating away at your physical well-being. “Forest Dweller” has the bass crawling through fire, the growls churning, and the melodies brawling with precision. The pressure builds as the playing hisses, snarling over churning guitars and a battering ram force that can knock down walls. “A Ballad of Two Ravens” is a quick instrumental piece with birds cawing, clean guitars feeling like ice melting in early spring, spilling back in time to a place you feel like you’ve visited before.

The title track has keys draining, doomy death growls crawling through the puddles that are increasingly growing larger. The guitars slur as organs disorient, the mucky pace bleeding from wounds that won’t congeal. The growls add menace, the title is howled and chews on bone, and everything drains into “Cosmic Dark Age” that mangles and crushes from the start. Muscular and steely, the playing adds to the ferocity, a wicked dialog gives a nightmare vibe, and the wail of, “No light, a starless void,” pays even more respect to the horrors over the horizon. “Allfather (A Wanderers Tale)” just smokes, the guitars adding to the heat, a swampy vibe making your body quickly lose all strength from your muscles. The misery always seems to be over your shoulder, spreading as the cloud cover increases, keys glaze, and thunder pummels as this instrumental piece boils under the emerging sun. Closer “Take the Throne” is trudging and hot, retching growls spilling stomach acid on the ground. Persistent blasts make for a muscular display as ominous winds begin to blow, the guitar work turns warmer, and the final embers glimmer and succumb to the storm.

“The Devil and His Wicked Ways” is a record that might delve into history but feels awfully relevant today as the intrusion of religion never seems to lose its fire. Roots of the Old Oak spend their meaty, driving debut record reliving the scourge and treating it with doomy, drubbing power that refuses to give an inch and is hungry for the battle that’s to come. This is a punishing record with a warning about events that took place in the past that can rebound and attack us any time, any place if we’re not ready and willing to confront that oppression.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://napalmrecords.com/hammerheart

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

Holding anger inside for a long time is a bad way to go through life. It’s awful for your mental health, and it’s likely to push some people to unthinkable acts because they have no way to release such energy. You need an outlet for something like that, and if it’s productive, it could actually have net positive results when all is said and done.

It’s been nine long years since we heard from Gridlink, and it sounds like in that time they’ve built up enough aggression and negativity that it had to come out again. On “Coronet Juniper,” their first record since 2014’s “Longhena,” we’re waylayed by 11 tracks spread over a bit more than 19 minutes, and everything here is molten and pissed. The band—vocalist Jon Chang, guitarist Takafumi Matsubara, bassist Mauro Cordoba, drummer Bryan Fajardo—is as vicious and frightening as they’ve ever been, blending your brain and guts in such a manner that you’re feeling like the contents of your body are dripping through your cells. And if you can connect your own venom with the band’s, this record also can be a productive outlet to exorcise what haunts you.

“Silk Ash Cascade” begins manically, instantly grabbing you by the throat and mercilessly squeezing. The vocals choke and shriek while the playing maims, spattering blood and heading into “Anhalter Bahnhof” that thrashes right off the bat. It’s a blast that doesn’t stay long but makes its impact felt, shrieks dusting, the playing rattling, the force coming at you and twisting you into something unidentifiable. “Pitch Black Resolve” opens in a melodic haze before forcefully unloading, the screams working their way down your spine. The playing zaps and dashes, strong riffs flexing their muscles and scrambling your brains like a milkshake. “Nickel Grass Mosaic” attacks with mammoth riffs, approaching you angularly, stabbing with fire as all of the playing tangles, blasting before choking with pulverizing smoke. “Ocean Vertigo” has the heat rising dangerously, hanging before the track busts open, the shrieks killing your entire cell structure. The chaos slaughters as the playing makes your insides quakes, blasting into a weird deep haze.

“Octave Serpent” is the first of a four-track assault that drives in, devastates, and leaves. Shrieks mangle along with shocking speed that ravages your body and leaves you heaving. The title track is an urgent crush of fast riffs, panicked screams, and mashing horrors that feel like all of your veins are being pressed together. “Zygomatic” feels like it has somewhere to be very soon, and before that appointment, the band chews with metal teeth, the guitars race with scorching tenacity, and at the end, it feels like your flesh has been pulled from muscle and bone. “Refrain” is calm at first, disarmingly so, and then we’re suddenly in full speed, making it impossible to catch a breath. The viciousness smokes as shrieks smash, and the exclamation point is stabbed home. “The Forgers Secade” starts with the drums slaying, vicious shrieks falling like acid rain, the guitars lathering with lava. The menace multiplies, the guitars toy with your mentality, and the track exits in a strange fog. Closer “Revenant Orchard” is tornadic and slashing, the pace knifing its way through your ribcage, the drumming turning rock into dust. A dreamier sequence sets in, only to be disrupted by horrifying shrieks, the last gasps melting planets.

For those times when our frustration gets to be too much, when we want to physically take something apart but know we can’t, there’s always Gridlink to help us get out that pain. “Coronet Juniper” is almost comically heavy and angry, something that seems like it’s having a hard time dealing with what is chewing at the nerves yet finding a way to contain the violence into something constructive. This band always finds a way to shock your system, and this record, as brief as it may be, never fails to dig into your brain and pull out all of the negative energy.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/GridLink512

To buy the album, go here: https://www.willowtip.com/bands/details/gridlink.aspx

For more on the label, go here: https://www.willowtip.com/home.aspx

I went outside today, and the heat and humidity were just uncompromising. Walking any length made the lightheadedness strike hard, as I was trying to find a place to catch balance. Nothing felt good about it, and considering we’d just come out of the nicest temperatures all summer, this was almost an insult. The earth is beginning to lay waste to us for our sins.

Brazilian death metal crushers Fossilization discovered a way to make that oppressive temperature come through in their music. The band’s debut record “Leprous Daylight” is a filthy, sludging, and violent, an eight-track pounder that this band—vocalist/guitarist/bassist V, drummer P—builds off the strength of their debut EP “He Whose Name Was Long Forgotten” and split with Ritual Necromancy to make things more viscous, more unforgiving, and more intense. These 37 minutes might feel like they blast back in no time, but once the music is done, you’ll realize you’re paying a dear price that won’t resolve easily.

“Archæan Gateway” is a doomy, sweltering intro track that trudges its way into “Once Was God” that is ominous and dark as it arrives. Murky, burly hell unloads, the guitars catching fire even amid all the soot. Massive heat exhales, the fuzzy guitars engorge, and things manage to get even more sinister before bowing out to the finish. “Oracle of Reversion” is thick as hell as the growls land like blades, the guitars scorching as a death metal assault gets fully under way. Growls curdle as the tempo digs in its heels a little, grinding you down with power instead of speed. The exhaust coming off the guitars weighs down on you, the snarls twist your muscles, and the mashing pace ends in suffocation. “At the Heart of the Nest” brings spiraling guitars and rumbling growls, the heat penetrating as the smoking pace turns molten. The growls manage to get even dirtier, the pace bleeding over, trucking over plasma, bone, and nails before fading into the soil.

The title track ignites with vile howls, a heavy haze hanging over everything, jolting with ugly and immoral intent. Melodies tidal wave and unite with the infernal assault that chokes out all oxygen, the track burning to its finish. “The Night Spoke the Tongue of Flames” splatters as the chaos builds, the slow-driving madness leaning into steamy, stewy chaos. The guitars explode all over, blistering with lurching growls and blasting wills. “Eon” slowly catches fire and hangs overhead like a poisonous cloud. The deathly assault staggers and keeps landing bigger blows, and the guitars start a hypnotic push that brings thing to a boil. The drums kick hard, and the elements totally fucking destroy until everything is dust. Closer “Wrought in the Abyss” is nasty and scarring, the humidity spreading, warping and piling on the ugliness. The pressure mounts and the leads scorch and spread, savaging with a calculated pace and a sinister intent that goes out in smoke.

Fossilization certainly create doomy death metal that feels like being stuck inside a loaf of hot bread, just gasping steam while you strive for some sort of vision. “Leprous Daylight” is a mangling, disgusting slab of death that makes it impossible to feel comfortable and always make it feel like you’re face first in the mud. This is a pulverizing debut, one that promises only broken bones and blood to its victims.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://everlastingspew.com/21-everlasting-spew-releases

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

Taking a journey within one’s mind to get a greater understanding of who we are can be an incredibly rewarding experience but also a stressful one. As many things we can learn about ourselves and our journeys that gives us what we need to have a fuller existence, the exploration and the path can be strenuous both mentally and physically, leasing to exhaustion. Even if the effort is a fruitful one.

Taking on “Evolvement,” the debut full-length from progressive death metal force Tegmentum, lets you take that trip and also levels you with their creative powers. Progressive death metal is a section of extreme music that has exploded well beyond its bounds, and honestly, it’s a style of music that wears on me and rarely gives me something for which to be excited. But then there are bands like this one where its members—vocalist Chelsea Murphy, guitarist Michael Ball, bassist Kenji Tsunami, drummer Andrew Baird—obviously are incredibly capable players but never just lean into that alone. There’s a lot of heart and soul woven into this intergalactic sojourn, so you actually feel the music rather than absorb the virtuosity. These four bring experience from other forces such as Worm of Ouroboros, Ontogeny, Fallujah, Cailleach Calling, and plenty of others, and they use those skills they sharpened there to make Tegmentum an even more intense beast.

“Innocuous” features Yvette Young of Covet and cellist Jerry Liu, so we’re already neck-deep in a lot of great players combining for what’s essentially an intro track, and an immersive one. The track is breezy and spacey, gently spilling as the clouds part, strings ache, and we’re headed into “Moments Ago” that surges and explodes with shrieks from Murphy. The playing is monstrous and crushing, guitars swelling as giant melodies swallow you up, and scorching heat comes on the back-end, crushing and then bleeding away. “Accolades” features Young again, and the track lands punches, the leads taking off for the stars. Roars destroy as the base rumbles and scathes, mauling as molten chaos feels like it bleeds from your pores. The track turns muddy and jarring, the strings pull at your guts, and clean singing jars muscles, everything ending in a burly blast. “Amygdala” (side note: mine is commonly not my friend) twists with anxious tension, the raw howls bruising, down-tuned power spitting mud and drubbing brains. Clean guitars drip as the playing smooshes, the menace creeping down your spine, howls piling up, the guitars then going off. The track goes on a prog-infested zap into the cosmos, tangling and speeding, the calm then coming in doses, crushing out into a haze of sound.

“Emergent Properties” is a jolting, manic display, stretching and retching, a violent interlude that turns into “Genetic Assimilation” that includes Nik Sampson (of Devilment and also the current bassist for the legendary Benediction), and it dawns with beastly howls, crushing with power, the sounds twisting and contorting as your own mental edge is frayed. The leads take off and coil around your brain, the pace steamrolling and electrifying, exploding with brutality that’s doubled by Murphy’s ferocious vocals, everything ending in universal panic. “I Remain” contains contributions from Noah Frank and opens in blistering fire, the growls snarling in your belly, tricky and furious playing having its way with your mind. The heat doubles and becomes impossible to handle, and then Frank’s horns wash in and add a sense of calm, adding a sultry element to twisted devastation. The pace completely darkens, the playing turns grisly, and hellish howls round out into terror. Closer “Gospel of Sand” is an interesting one, beginning tricky and proggy, spiraling and slaying as vile intentions become apparent. The playing mauls as the soloing chars, leading into colder waters that bring down the temperature, but that’s a trick as madness is waiting behind the door. The playing comes unglued and manages to scramble your senses even further, and the final stretch sounds like an unsettling and freezing horror soundscape, the one that makes you feel like danger is nipping at your security.

Tegmentum’s impressive debut “Evolvement” rises many levels above many of the other gray, faceless bands that have tried this same style and don’t resonate much beyond the impressive playing. This band has a creative, fiery heart that keeps you tuned into everything going on, and Murphy has proved time and again to be a compelling, dexterous vocalist capable of many twists and turns. This is a firebreather of an album that hints that as good as this is, the future might be even more exciting.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.m-theoryaudio.com/store

For more on the label, go here: https://www.m-theoryaudio.com/