Trying to communicate with one another, especially with someone with which you have strife, is never an easy thing to do. To clarify, I don’t mean internet numbskulls who spew misinformation and debunked conspiracy bullshit. Don’t even try to talk to them. Instead, these relationships can be ones that matter most in your life, or that at least hold meaning, and the gulf between you can be tough to bridge.

Pittsburgh noise mashers Mirakler tackle that subject on “How I Became the Devil,” the band’s debut full-length record. Grasping the energies spewed forth by bands such as Unsane, Nirvana, the Melvins, Helmet, and others of that ilk, this unit—vocalist/guitarist Daniel Gene, bassist Will Novalis, drummer Matt Langille (John Kerr of Pyrithe played drums on the album)—used to make these 15 tracks as volatile and striking as they are. This also is a record that changes its shape with each listen. My feelings transformed with each trip, and the more I thought about the connection issues in my life, these songs became more embedded in my psyche.

“The Good Thief” is a quick intro bathing in feedback, mauling drums, and scorching misery, pouring right into “Ecstatic Fields of Love and Grace” that’s jarring and abrasive. The wild howls jerk as the bludgeoning thickens, trudging into detached singing that melts brains before draining away. “Egg” tears in as the bass drives hard, yowled vocals making your nerve endings tingle. Grungy bass drags, the playing pounds with feral fury, and we’re on to “I Am Violence” that attacks with muscular riffs. The vocals warble as a calculated attack gets under way, bringing smearing force and gutting shrieks. Sludge compounds as noise spits, crazed howls scramble brains, and the playing slowly spreads into the fog. “The Bad Thief” unloads scraping guitars and mangling force, the playing stinging flesh and clobbering, the instrumental piece wounding already vulnerable flesh. “Instant Drugs” chars and jolts as the bass slinks, everything else thrashing relentlessly. Howls crush as the guitars strike, the fervor bubbles as the menace looks you in the eye as it takes you under. “This Is Brit Pop” is slightly less approachable than its title hints, menacing riffs coming down with clobbering force. Wails reverberate on their own before the attack rejoins the fray, the rage boiling over, the thrashing madness opening up wounds that are anything but superficial. Rampaging snarls strike and create psychosis in which you’re entranced.

“Wet Ground Brings Rain” is a quick interlude with guitars glowing, sticks tapping, and the bass lurking, leading into “The Fireworks and the Stars” that snakes with ominous intent. The playing turns into a buzzsaw as the force smashes away, the howls leaving brush burns. The bass solidifies and gets muscular, the fires spread, and only spare parts are left behind. “Kenny” brings start/stop blasting, the guitars glimmer, and slurry growls play games with your psyche. Spiraling and muddy playing chews into bone, the vocals warble, and the punishing final bursts take off heads. “How Many More Will Die” is an interlude with the bass sneaking up on you, noise rising, and strings recoiling, feeling like a loose screw rolling around in a dryer. “Exodus (A Continuous Mutation)” slaughters souls, the bass work leaving oil slicks behind, the heat rising dangerously. The battering increases and becomes an even more terrifying force, molten hell pours lava into every passageway, and the tourniquet is turned, choking out all forces of life. “My Battery Is Low and It’s Getting Dark” is the final interlude with noises vibrating, calls reaching out over desolation, and a strange cloud hovering, slipping into “Christ B.C.” that jars shockingly from the start. Abrasive force and crazed cries land hard, the guitars melting and gutting. The insanity suddenly multiplies as the shrieks return and torment, stabbing with horrific intent. Closer “The Hill” ramps up and openly stampedes, the grunge energy spreading its filthy wings, the guitars jabbing with insult. Rolling darkness makes safety impossible as the playing mauls in place, leaving every escape blocked, percussive chiming tingling your spine, and final gasps coating your lungs with soot.

While the struggle to communicate is at the heart of “How I Became the Devil,”  Mirakler have no problem getting their point across with the force of a sledgehammer on this record. The bloody husks of the ’90s breathe wicked new life, and their modern fingerprints all over this thing make this album feel like a runaway steel beam looking to smash your skull. This is an electric, agitated document that is impossible to digest without taking on a good bit of its mental damage.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.reptilianrecords.com/products/743259-mirakler-how-i-became-the-devil-lp

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

Death metal is an easy art form from a presentation standpoint. Not from a musical angle, because that shit is fucking hard to do. But with the right name and violently crafted album and song titles, you should be able to find your audience fairly easily, as long as you get enough exposure. Are you going to be confused at all when you see music by a band called Grotesqueries? No, you’re not.

The Boston-based death metal crushers are arriving with their vicious debut full-length offering “Vile Crematory,” yet another box checked by these guys when crafting their sub-genre aesthetic. I don’t mean to suggest as cheekily as I did that there was some think tank involved or something. Instead, this band—vocalist Mike Buonomo, guitarists Brendan O’Hare and Connor Thompson, bassist John Rainis, drummer Yianni Tranxidis—just knows what they’re doing and are coming at you with vitriol and chaos, making their first major statement something that leaves no doubt. This is vicious, ugly death metal, and if you appreciate its bloodiest forms, you’ll be right at home here.

“Hypnagogic Transmutation” opens with strange sounds and warbling weirdness, spreading for the first couple minutes before things are torn open and begin to stomp guts. Guttural growls kill as the fast, snarling playing wraps like a constrictor, death warping as gurgling panic lashes bones. “Corpsejuice” ignites and crushes, brutal growls leave bruising on your trunk, and the mangling power begins to flex its muscles. Ugliness continues to build as the growls engorge, whipping by and leaving you retching.  “Gorrified (The Ageless Malignancy)” brings bass buzzing like an overflowing hornet nest, the playing unloading and overwhelming. Growls mash as sinewy playing punishes, then the guitars go off and set fires, spreading sludge and torching faces, dealing final blows of pulverizing pain.

“Meat You With Chain” clobbers right away, steering through fast, grim hell, the menacing blows crushing viciously. The leads build steam as the guitars bubble over, adding putridity and chaos to the festering wounds. “The Dweller’s Threnody” is doomy as it lurches through the mud, becoming a battering force that destroys bones. The guitars angle and chew, feeling mucky and grimy, the howls scraping flesh from bone, rampaging into the arms of total slaughter. “Madness Breed” is gutting as it trudges through, the growls making your stomach contents churn. The playing turns fast and slashing, melody simmers and changes the colors, and strong leads devastate, ending everything in a bone-crushing blast. Closer “Dismembered Fears” is thunderous and storming, bringing delirium and slashing force, the skies darkening as howls crush. Speed becomes a factor as the guitars burst into hyper speed, the playing sinks into the muck, and then the heat returns, drubbing and scorching to the end.

Death and its stench are in the air and poison your lungs on “Vile Crematory,” a record that sounds like the soundtrack to your worst nightmare. Grotesqueries ply you with enough stomach-turning chaos and massive force to leave you sore for weeks, and when your experience is over, you are strangely satisfied, even if it’s in the most warped possible way. This is a punishing first full-length from a band that is just getting their claws into death metal’s corpse, and they seem far from ending their feeding.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://caligarirecords.storenvy.com/

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

There are records that are like comfort food for me in that the music hits the right spot no matter what, and the caloric content doesn’t matter because sometimes it’s OK to just indulge in good shit. I’m not going to go on a run of albums I classify in this category because I don’t feel like it, but I think we all have these, and any visit with them is fulfilling in ways maybe others don’t understand.

“Blood Sabbath” is the first full-length from Serpent Corpse, and from the first time I heard it, it filled me up with what I need from a metal band. It’s doomy, there are death vibes, and there’s a punk bravado that is impossible to miss. It’s music to soundtrack your mania or a healthy sojourn into madness that this band (a lineup is hard to find, some folks may have left, but this is the best one I can find)—guitarists Adam Breault, Chris Lecroix, vocalist/bassist Andrew Haddad, drummer Zachariah Su—committed to tape and unleashed upon an unsuspecting world. It’s a good, smearing time you won’t forget.

“Spell of the Eternal Serpent” is a quick intro cut that collects noise, zaps, and a synth haze, the guitars dripping and bleeding into “Electric Eye” that’s thrashy and fiery. The vocals are more like a monstrous yell, Haddad howling, “With a metal fist, we shall crush,” as the leads swell, and burnt offerings are left behind. “Nemesis” chars as drums hammer, the playing trudges, and the vocals echo, sending shivers down the spine. Guitars fire up and scorch as the driving power pushes into your chest, the darkness swelling and weighing down on your soul. “Let the Rats Feed” brings explosive guitars and raw howls, the humidity increasing dangerously and pushing into your psyche. Bruising thrashing makes its way through as the tension builds dangerously, the howls lurching through suddenly jarring speed before blasting out. “Land of Rot and Misfortune” is a mind fucker from the start, opening a hole in your belly and tunneling through, calculated hell making the blows rain down with precision. The guitars creep before taking on a Slayer feel, storming with fire before fading into madness.

“Crucifixion Shrine” is an all-out brawl, dealing decimating punishment as the guitars spiral and aggravate your balance. The track takes on a dark punk energy as the playing barrels through barriers, landing huge blows before ending with jolting energy. “Swallowed Whole By the Abyss” brings welling guitars that eventually burst into a gutting explosion, howls absolutely destroying whatever’s in front of it. The playing chugs massively and begins to feel more dangerous, the strange vocals melting your brain and letting it drip from your ears. “Dreams of Crows” is hazy and doomy when it dawns, the guitars eventually speeding up and trampling with precision. The pall of torment returns as the knives are driven hard, the mashing energy teaming with curdling wails to end everything in muck. The closing title track arrives with acidic vocals, and a catchy but heavy attack that gets blood flowing. The playing keeps gaining speed and wilting heat, blistering savagely, letting the blood boil in your veins. The noise picks up as the guitars melt, echoes hypnotizes, and the insanity drains into the dark.

“Blood Sabbath” is a record that you don’t have to think about too hard for it to hit you like a ton of bricks, and that’s not to suggest the album isn’t packed with smart content. It’s just that Serpent Corpse have a power and allure that pulls you in, no matter what section of the dark metallic arts you call your favorite. This is vicious, a blast of fun, and a record that’ll keep your adrenaline flowing with carnage.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://serpentcorpse.bandcamp.com/album/blood-sabbath

Or here: https://templeofmystery.ca/product-category/serpent-corpse/

For more on the label, go here: https://templeofmystery.ca/

If you even partially follow current events and things going on in society, it can be a lot to handle and definitely not something great for our mental health. Getting lost in that chaos is very easy to do, and I’m sure we’ve all fallen victim to it in some form, but that isn’t a portrait of reality. There remain good, bright things that exist in the mire, and finding those glimmers can be what pulls us through.

“Fires in the Fall” might sound like an album title that has destruction at its heart, and in some ways it does (it comes from a Robert Louis Stevenson poem). But Texan black metal/doom trio Krigsgrav weave in the reminder that even at the worst of times, we can find ways to discover hope. The fact that this band—vocalist/guitarist/synth player J. Coleman, guitarist/bassist C. Daniels, drummer/bassist/clean vocalist D. Sikora—enshrouds those ideas in music that sounds like a raging storm pouring ferocity onto the earth is what makes the record so profound. It’s an album that I have been playing on repeat lately (much like I did with 2021’s eye-opening “The Sundering”), and anyone with even a fleeting interest in atmospheric black metal and swarming doom will find so much to capture their imagination. This is a band that needs to be in more people’s awareness, and hopefully this album, their seventh, is what gets them there.  

“An Everflowing Vessel” opens the record with sweeping power, stomping and crushing, glorious black metal and doom melding and creating something mighty. The track is a total rush in the dark, bringing melodic fury as Coleman howls, “But this vessel is ever-flowing, the suffering is all but inevitable, ever-looming, ever-present in this place of impossible darkness,” before everything fades into acoustics. “The Black Oak” begins with tornadic force, a thunderous tear ripping into the place, growls wrenching as the energy spits out fire. Dark energy swirls and mars, guitars cut in and destroy hearts, and the blazing weight beneath this song is meaty and crushing. “The World We Leave Behind” heats up as the playing swells, the growls menace, and the coldness becomes a greater factor, chilling bones. “For I have lost the humanity I had, and now I shall be one with the earth,” Coleman howls, clobbering hell trudging and chewing, your senses flooded with chaotic blood. Everything then hovers as the band hits a slower pace, sorrow floods, and the final blasts bury you in unshakable darkness. “In Seas of Perdition” just crushes as the guitar playing leaves welts, absolutely decimating and playing tricks on your central nervous system. Destruction hammers away as the fires get hungrier and closer, lurching mashing destroying before disorienting playing slips out into fog.

“When I’m Gone, Let the Wolves Come” is an exclusive bonus track for the CD version, and it rampages before you know what hit you, bringing flooding melodies and scraping howls. Layered guitars lead into a massive engulfing of flames, the drama increases, and clobbering forces rush for the gates. “Shadowlands” begins ominously before the fuel spills and aggravates a blaze, down-tuned mashing making your bruising feel more pronounced. “Ravens circle above as rain begins, calling the words, speak the meaning, iron and absolute, howling beasts,” Coleman wails, feeling full of venom, increasing the ferocity that eventually slips into muddy terrain, retching until the agony finally fades. “Journeyman” blisters as the shrieks rush, and infectious playing gets your blood racing, the moodiness helping cut some of that adrenaline so your brain doesn’t freak out. Crushing force becomes an even greater factor, the fluid and punchy assault tearing through your ribcage, the monstrous push making itself an immovable object that only pulls back once it spirals away. Closer “Alone With the Setting Sun” dawns with acoustics, the solemnity increasing before the force chugs, and the band flexes. Everything continues to get more harrowing, the drums explode with delirium, and the wrenching growls pull your guts from your body. “Burning fire in my heart, burning fire in my eyes, the darkness I embrace, strength and fire my guide,” Coleman howls as the final build happens, the tension in your chest rises, and then acoustics release the pressure, leaving you in mist-drenched acoustics.

Krigsgrav star long has been rising, and it just burst into the sky on “Fires in the Fall,” their most explosive and complete record to date. This is an album that grows on you with each listen, its power unquestioned, the emotional journey you’re on turning into something you’ve never experienced before. This is a triumph of an album, music that illuminates the skies and fills your heart with an energy not encountered before that stays in every one of your cells.   

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

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

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

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

Heavy metal didn’t always sound the way it does now, and there used to be a time when the only people arguably growling their vocals were Lemmy and Brian Johnson. But things have progressed and times have changed (all for the better), and bands that were the difference makers years ago might not be deemed heavy enough today. I had someone tell me Iron Maiden sounded weak. He’s dead now.

I say that as I’m about to discuss doomy traditional metal force High Priest and their awesome debut record “Invocation.” These guys sound like they’ve mainlined the vein into metal’s past, darkened it a bit, and came up with a stunning result on this eight-track, 45-minute-long power. There’s glory, darkness, and infectious energy that this band—vocalist/bassist Justin Valentino, guitarists Pete Grossmann and John Regan, drummer Dan Polak—jams into this album. This is a promising debut from a band that already sounds pretty dialed into their thing, and they should only get more intense from here.

The title track opens with stinging guitars and excellent singing from Valentino, who is a force on this album. “Forgiveness, calling from the sacred, I am,” he calls as the track speeds up, dual guitars glimmer, and sounds are sucked into the cosmos. “Divinity” chugs in with great energy, pounding away and layering a doom glaze from one end to the next. The leads charge and swelter, things get faster and steamier, and Valentino calls, “Resonate, heart open, feel alive,” as the final moments burn away. “Ceremony” drips in darkness, the playing slowly unloading and boiling, wooshing past the stars and gradually gaining heat. The swagger kicks in as psychedelic colors flow, the playing begins to burn in calculated fashion, and the final blows melt into “Cosmic Key” that continues the mind-tingling push, layered singing leaving the hairs raised on your flesh. Heavy, bluesy guitar work trudges as the heat builds and blisters, strong soloing making sparks fly, everything resting on a torched earth.

“Down in the Dark” opens sludgy, feeling a little like Alice in Chains, breezy singing icing over your brain. Smoggy and melodic, the guitars buzz harder, great singing keeps pushing the heat, and the murk emerges, clouding your brain with a grungy edge. “Universe” opens with the bass pulling up, dual vocals entering the mix, and energy pulsating. “You remind me of the universe,” Valentino calls, “You’re designed to be the first,” as the track takes off, and things begin to charge up, blistering and leaving flesh absolutely scorched. “Conjure” feels Sabbathy as hell at the front, softer, but forceful singing pushing as Valentino urges, “Reveal yourself.” Guitars hit a boil as the pace jostles and then gallops, creating a smoking force that rips you apart and buries everything in rubble. Closer “Heaven” is fuzzy at first as the leads begin to liquify, the vocals floating and leading to a harmonized chorus. Things pick up and pump strength, and parts of this song would not sound out of place on rock radio a few decades ago. The mood darkens as Valentino calls, “I refuse to know heaven,” repeatedly as the bass drives harder, the guitars begin to blaze, and the energy cascades and soaks the ground with sweat.

High Priest harken back to an era when metal could be both doomy and rock radio friendly without sacrificing an inch of their power or integrity. “Invocation” is a sweeping, substantive document that arrives right at the height of summer, the period when this style of music always sounds the best. This brims with power and grit, hopefully making High Priest’s reach expand to greater heights.

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

‘To buy the album, go here: https://us.merhq.net/us/Artists/High-Priest/

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

Today isn’t really going to be a great one on this site for any hardcore Christians, though I can’t imagine there are a ton of those in this audience. The scourge this faith has had on this nation alone is disgusting and devastating, as it’s used as a means and an excuse for stripping away rights from people and has been used to justify unspeakable violence and hide horrifying sex crimes for-fucking-ever.

Not that Black Eucharist necessarily have the social impact of organized religion in their crosshairs on crushing debut record “Inn of the Vaticide,” focusing on the destruction of a prophet. Yeah, I think you know the one. This is grim, fiery black metal with a death mission, and yeah, it’s a trope for black metal to float in these bloody waters, but this band—vocalist/guitarist Infestor, bassist Gravepisser, drummer/vocalist Shemhamforash—makes you believe in their mission. These tracks feel like they’re aiming to slice jugulars in half, waging a war against a religion that itself has a body county and has led many from a profession of faith to a campaign of hatred. Anyway, yeah. This is utter blackness.  

“Black Ejaculate” opens the record, and it’s the name this band operated under before going to their current moniker. A Bible reading starts before things gets warped and ugly, the blackening skies opening and pouring blood. Raw howls destroy as the power stampedes, vicious hell lays waste to everything in front of it, and snarling devastation melts into a pile of filth. “Deflowering Jerusalem” plasters with flattening playing and the growls eating away, going into a delirious attack. Gargantuan mashing works at your psyche, crushing all the way to the end. “Drowned Flock” brings charred riffs and thrashy chaos, the guitars making blood boil and bubble. A battering ram is unleashed as everything feels like a blast furnace roaring in your face, a warped hymn carrying the playing into terror. The title track arrives with piledriving force, absolutely slaughtering with madness, bringing absolute menace. Maniacal strength and crazed wails increase their intensity as massive power swallows peace whole, and a stymying assault brings a pulverizing end.

“The Soiled Crucifix” is a quick instrumental with whipping winds, strange synth bringing a trancey vibe, and the temperature making your mental health feel in question. “Broken Staff of the Shepherd” is the longest track at 8:08, and it feels humid and punishing at the start, the growls digging into wounds, and then everything tears open into a full-fledged assault. The playing is blinding as the teeth sink into necks, the vocals massacre, and delirious playing makes your balance something completely out of your control. Scorching hell meets up with flattening darkness, stoking fires and bringing a vicious ending. “Ziziphus Paliurus” torches from the start but also packs some melodic guitar work, making it the most approachable track on the record. But it’s still feral as hell, tormenting while it infects, channeling poisoned pressure that leaves blood behind. Closer “A Foul Stench Lingers at Peor” is animalistic as it speeds and trashes, plying you with dizzying playing that absolutely unloads. Mangling, warping jolts strike as riffs destroy, punishment cascades, and angelic horrors are painted across the sky.

Black Eucharist bring metallic vulgarity and scornful anger on “Inn of the Vaticide,” a record the world utterly needs right now as organized religion, in this case Christianity, tries to force itself on people and corrupt laws in this very country. This is a filthy, unquestioned attack on that machine, something that likely will upset your Trump loving neighbor, and good because fuck that guy. Prepare for ugliness, violence, and terror, a record that will leave your heart burnt to a crisp.

For more on the band, go here: https://blackeucharist.bandcamp.com/album/cum-soaked-messiah

To buy the album, go here: https://stygianblackhand.bandcamp.com/album/inn-of-the-vaticide

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

Generally, I’m a proponent of as well as fan of bands that deliver records where they get in, do their damage, and get out, leaving me wanting more. But that doesn’t always apply, and it’s definitely not something that should be applied across the board. Take doom, for example. It’s best served in longer, more demanding sessions, a trek that makes you feel every bump and pull of the journey.

We’ve long been a fan of German crushers Eremit, whose body of work began in 2018 and has stretched over two challenging, rewarding full-length albums, a stunning EP, and a few other releases. But their third long player “Wearer of Numerous Forms” is a beast of a different name, clocking in at a massive two hours, 13 minutes, and every one of those ticks is worth your time. The band—vocalist/guitarist Moritz Fabian, guitarist Pascal “Kalle” Sommer, drummer Marco Baecker, and brand-new trumpet player Hendrik “Brede” Bredemann—finishes off their trilogy that began on “Carrier of Weight” about a hermit lost in an endless ocean with this massive adventure that, believe it or not, will leave you yearning for more. This album does not feel as lengthy as it is, and it is a crowning achievement for this band that should be a household name for all doom fans if there is any justice in the world.

“Conflicting Aspects of Reality” is the colossal 63:47 opener, and most bands would have cut it with just that song. Not Eremit, and for good reason. The band starts battering right away, not worrying about pacing themselves just yet and coming at you with barbaric strength. The guitars spiral and sting as much as they sludge in spots, and the harrowing cries scrape wounds. The doom trumpets fire as blackness spreads and wretches, crushing and developing a disorienting haze that eventually meets up with a long instrumental section that plays with quieter tones, often not rising much above notes that drop like a ball of lava into water. The playing blasts back in and then takes on a meaty drone, bruising and glowing, cutting through a thick fog. The ground shakes as the growls envelope, bringing misery and fury, the growls hammering away at psyches, the fuzz  building to a dangerous level. Howls crunch, weird shrieks strike, and doom power crushes in the dark, disappearing into a vicious storm cloud.

“Entombed in a Prism of Blindness” is the “mini” track of the bunch, clocking in at 21:27 and opening the lid to hell. The playing mauls and spits brutality, smearing and corroding, the growls aiming to bury your face in the cinders. The slowly dripping torture then collides with smashing hulking, shrieks tearing minds apart, the power utterly melting. Howls rip and the playing drubs, bleeding into closer “Passages of Poor Light” that runs 47:17. The track emerges in a calculated fashion, letting the heat accumulate as the devastation gets urgent, the growls digging into your chest. A heavy, colorful fog stretches over everything, the destruction suffocating all forces pouring from the mouth. The playing feels like it’s floating in darkness before the explosions happen, the growls making flesh crawl, sounds quivering with crushing weight. Sorrow grows and makes your chest well with emotion, leads re-emerge and melt faces, and suddenly it feels like you’re surrounded. The playing buzzes and trudges, and then things speed up violently, spitting fire and gutting opposing forces, acting as a battering ram. Bodies come apart, noise levels get uncomfortably piercing, and the final embers glimmer before disappearing for good.

Eremit created their crowning achievement with “Wearer of Numerous Forms,” an absolute beast of a record. Over more than two hours, this band unfurls a document that will be a sub-genre calling card well into the future, one of those records you just have to experience to believe it. For as much content as this album holds, there is not fat to be trimmed and only a complete feast of doom that will keep you nourished and satisfied for an incredibly long time.   

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

To buy the album, go here: https://fuckingkillrecords.bandcamp.com/album/eremit-wearer-of-numerous-forms

Or here: https://allswordsburn.bandcamp.com/album/wearer-of-numerous-forms

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

It’s late spring here in the U.S., and with summer on our doorstep (it was 90 degrees here last week), it also brings with it the possibility of gusty and dangerous storms. But there are more cataclysmic events that are not the result of nature, and that’s the storming that goes on in our minds, something that can be so forceful, it can make taking on a new day a monumental challenge.

Danish doom veterans Saturnus finally have returned with their incredible new record “The Storm Within,” a collection that is awash in crashing waves, an angry sea, and violent precipitation soaking the ground. But they match that to our experiences of anger, loss, pain, and other dark elements, and being immersed in that can feel like battling waves we have no prayer to conquer. The band—vocalist Thomas A.G. Jensen, guitarists Indee Rehal-Sagoo and Julio Fernandez, bassist Brian Hansen, drummer Henrik O. Glass, keyboardist/pianist Mika Ditlev Gyldenøhr Filborne—envelope you with melodic, melancholic doom metal that leaves the heart and mind soaked and shivering from the cold. It’s a masterful collection that makes the 11 years we faced without a new Saturnus record feel like a drop in the bucket over the mental and physical force you feel in the music. It’s an incredible record you cannot shake, even long after the music has come to an end.

The title track opens in thunder and rain, feeling properly seasonal, which is fitting, and the playing gently dawns. It’s not long before Jensen’s wrenching growls become a factor as the murkiness develops, speaking passages taking place of the grisliness in spots. Melodies soar as the guitars drip, the temperatures later melting, feeling gothy as growls lay waste, and the essence returns to the clouds. “Chasing Ghosts” is the second-longest track (12 seconds shorter than the opener) and begins amid echoing guitars and cold speaking, everything feeling reflective and dour. Growls wrench as the doomy waters thicken, corrosion eats into the heart, and the thorniness is calculated but direct, slipping into calmer air. The playing opens anew and bubbles viciously, the leads coming in thicker layers, sadness bleeding through fabric smearing into dirt. “The Calling” explodes at a faster pace, great leads glowing, a melodic chorus adding even more color. The cloudiness thickens as the growls begin to gut, the playing mauls, and the leads gust, injecting energy and glory to end this awesome track with power.

“Even Tide” features Paul Kuhr of Novembers Doom adding guest vocals, and this track enters with keys dropping, speaking cutting into your heart, haunting darkness spreading and infecting. “I wonder why this long I survived,” is howled as strings layer, adding to the misery. “Every time I try to go, the waves bring me home,” Jensen calls as the vocals pull back and forth from both singers, the pain finally bowing out. “Closing the Circle” runs 9:20 and mixes into the fog, the leads engulfing, the growls eating into flesh and organs. Solemn guitars slip in as the pain engulfs, the fire scorching, the leads swallowing everything whole as blood rushes to the skull. The growls rush back as the pain blisters, adding to the pain by running your face into the flames. “Breathe New Life” has guitars hovering overhead and the growls applying pressure, laying in punches as the keys glaze and confound. Guitars burst as the barometric energy moves into storm phase, the pace pummels, and the heaviness takes a few more strips of flesh before fading. Closer “Truth” begins with chilling keys, speaking sending jolts down the spine, and everything fully opening about three minutes into the cut. The playing lurches and drags you into shadows, crushing while the guitars harness energy, letting the pain increase. Dark speaking and menacing growls eat into the psyche while fluid playing cause waves to rise, spilling into rustic acoustics that let cool breezes soothe your skin after another battle with your own mind.

The harsh sea, the winds whipping, your own wounds festering are easy to confront when taking on “The Storm Within” as all of those elements are served in large, menacing doses. An 11 -year absence did nothing to eat away at Saturnus’ power, and their stranglehold on melancholic doom is at its apex on this incredible collection. The pain is still served in generous portions, and this band’s ability to make music that has optimal emotional impact remains dangerously intact.  

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://us.spkr.media/

Or here (Europe): https://en.spkr.media/

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

Not everything from the pandemic was a negative, which feels weird to say considering the lives that were lost, which was the worst effect of the global disease. But people used that time for productive means as well as not being able to go places and being locked in your own domain can force the creative juices because what else were you going to do?

Aussie doom pounders Witchskull made good use of that time by tightening the gears of their own machine and working on their awesome new record “The Serpent Tide,” their fourth. This eight-track album is fiery from the start, unloading traditional doom, stoner tendencies, and some truly gritty terrain that makes your mind and body feel like it had a workout. The band—guitarist/vocalist Marcus De Pasquale, bassist Tony McMahon, drummer Joel Green—stitched dark storytelling and strange vibes into the music that sounds perfectly situated in 2023 but also acts as sort of a tour through doom’s history, adding tastes and flavors that pay homage and work to make the sub-genre a more devastating place.

“Tyrian Dawn” kicks off in the mud, bludgeoning and mashing, the singing adding an extra level of dirt. Guitars chug and char and add a meaty energy while the playing digs deep and exposes vulnerable flesh. “Obsidian Eyes” starts with the drums pacing before a molten swagger takes hold, the singing letting everything around it take over. The bass encircles and coils to strike as the riffs maul, the howls add insult to injury, and everything comes to a forceful end. “Sun Carver” is mystical and trancey when it enters, digging in with a breezier approach and the singing soaring. Doomy blasts then begin to truck and leave grease marks as the soloing scorches, charring flesh before the track ends in a blur. “Bornless Hollow” starts with drums lacing, molten heaviness covering everything in its path. Fuzzy bass rears its head, the singing bruises, and the guitars scuff, making for a bluesy, catchy final serving of power.

“The Serving Ritual” starts with the bass trampling and the playing rampaging, the singing spat out as the faster pace makes everything feel more urgent. Psychedelic heat warps your senses as electric power drags skulls, catching fire and filling lungs with soot. The title track heats up right away, the singing stretching as the grit accumulates dangerously. The vocals liquify as the psyche elements increase, pounding flesh and letting the humidity make things sticky and uninhabitable. “Misery’s Horse” gallops into the scene and instantly starts crushing skulls, the start/stop playing making your stomach juices slosh around. The guitars soar and sizzle as the playing thrashes even harder, melting bones and burying everything in a pile of discarded limbs. “Rune of Thorn” closes things with strong riffs, the singing wrenching, and a smearing pace making breathing nearly impossible. The bass tramples as the pace continues the beating, the band pushes its playing to the limits, and everything rides off into the darkness.

“The Serpent Tide” is a fiery, lava-spewing record from these Aussies, something you can put on and let wash over you, the power taking you to the limit. Witchskull made the best of the downtime from the past few years when we were all locked down to make themselves a fitter, punchier machine that cranks out energetic jolts that fry brains and inhibitions. This is a great, fun record that gets in, does its damage, and exits, leaving everything blistered in its wake.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://riseaboverecords.com/product/the-serpent-tide/

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

It’s very easy to get caught up in our problems and tap out because it’s easier to give up than do the work. That sounds backward, but it’s true, and people who can pick themselves up off the mat, wipe the blood and spit from their mouth, and start over again are to be admired, their demons and issues be damned. Healing is real, and we should honor those who climb that mountain.

It would not be shocking if Royal Thunder no longer existed as an entity today. Based on the bio materials that accompany their incredible comeback record “Rebuilding the Mountain,” the band’s members—vocalist, bassist Mlny Parsonz,guitarist Josh Weaver, drummer Evan Diprima—fell victim to what has claimed so many others in their place, that being substance abuse issues. That’s a monster that has no mercy, that only finds ways to keep you captive, and it almost did that to these gifted musicians. Luckily for them, and us as listeners and fans, all three got clean, and much of what they faced is documented on this 10-track album. It’s no surprise then that the songs are brimming with life, the band sounding as channeled and passionate as ever, each track holding a gift or surprise that makes blood rush. It’s a triumphant statement for a band that could have given up, given in, and become another statistic. They didn’t let that happen, and all hails to them for their determination and strength, even if this record never happened. They exist, they thrive, and that’s what matters most. But we do have new music, and it’s a barnburner!

“Drag Me” begins the record on a mid-tempo note, though don’t mistake that for lacking power. That would be a huge mistake. “I sit high above the ether, will you ever forgive me?” Parsonz calls, the pain evident, as the guitars heat up and burn darkly, the power settling with organs vibrating, everything draining into a psychedelic dream. “The Knife” has a tempered start before really kicking in, Parsonz’s singing sounding as powerful as they ever have. “This blood bath is filling, and I promise myself I will do better, and I think it’s time,” Parsonz calls as guitars layer, and the impact is made and sinks in deeply.  “Now Here-Nowhere” is gritty and challenging, forceful vocals leaving bruising, the guitars glazing and welling in echo. The emotions are thick and powerful, everything spinning out into a vortex. “Twice” is both active and moody, Parsonz’s singing digging into your chest, the pace mostly lacerating but also breezy in spots. “I’ve been waiting a long time to help you win this fight, and I know that you will,” Parsonz wails with defiance, the playing basking in deep sunburn. “Pull” takes a different pace and slowly builds, the vocals wrenching. “It’s not impossible, I’m in control,” Parsonz wails, the final minutes hitting a murmur, the curtain dropping on this short, but effective cut.

“Live to Live” slowly emerges, and it’s moodier, letting the temperature rise along the way. Parsonz’s voice booms with power, sorrowful guitars add painful layers, and the volume begins to bubble dangerously before pulling back and letting your sore heart finally get some rest. “My Ten” quivers as the bass drives, and the playing is faster and more direct, leaving you gasping in the dust. “Open your eyes, are you feeling alright? You were calling from the other side,” Parsonz wails as the guitars aggravate fires, swirling out in a hypnotic echo. “Fade” has more of a ’90s rock feel, helping this sit apart from the pack. The guitars char as speedy energy ignites in chests, the nostalgic vibe eating into your brain as Parsonz calls, “I’ll keep the score from yesterday, this ain’t no dream, I’m wide awake,” as the track blasts out. “The King” is both moody and jolting, electricity racing through your veins with Parsonz adding to that by just opening her mouth. The guitars slink as the rhythmic elements pound away, everything flexing and tearing new wounds, the heartiness nourishing every one of your mental woes. Closer “Dead Star” is dark and absorbing, Parsonz wailing, “I run and try to keep your far away from my heart, a brilliant gem reflecting the fire’s flame.” The playing pushes and pulls the tempo, reclaiming the heat, adding punchier force, and everything is swallowed into the heart of the universe.

Royal Thunder sound like a band rejuvenated on “Rebuilding the Mountain,” a title that obviously wasn’t chosen at random. The pain and personal struggles that could have consumed the band’s members instead have turned their mission around and back on the right track. It’s great to hear these three artists so channeled and passionate, and this should be a building block to an even brighter future.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://spinefarm.merchnow.com/collections/royal-thunder?fbclid=IwAR13F1c8ERlFdHr_y67C8R9tofBvNECArDf27pVV579UWIxLj-R8u1YIUGM

Or here (Europe): https://spinefarm.tmstor.es/?lf=c952d71320872fa0b05bae9adb9a479e&fbclid=IwAR13F1c8ERlFdHr_y67C8R9tofBvNECArDf27pVV579UWIxLj-R8u1YIUGM

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