There are thousands of metal records that come out each year, and we review hundreds of them. At the end of the year, it’s hard to remember a fraction of what we wrote about without reviewing our work (which we do, by the way) because there is so much that is similar that not everything can stand out. That’s not a criticism; it’s reality.

I am certain that come the late days of December, I’ll remember “Folk Songs,” the debut record from Zelenaya, a NYC-based band that puts a metallic touch on traditional Eastern European folk numbers. This 12-track, 58-minute collection is the result of the band—vocalists Melanie Closs (Be the Ocean) and Veronica Dougherty, baritone guitarist/vocalist James Kogan, drummer/vocalist Caryn Havlik (Mortals)—unearthing and reconstructing these classic songs from areas such as Ukraine, Poland, Georgia, Serbia and other European territories and adding a molten, doomy edge to them. The songs also are fun and catchy as hell, their efforts to find lyrics and their translations and arrange them to have this extra power paying massive dividends. For an album that lasts nearly an hour, it feels like it rockets by, leaving you enthralled and energized by these recreations that take on a life of their own.

“Majka Bude Rodu” begins with thrashy power, sinister riffs, and swirling singing that is exciting and boisterous. The voices harmonize as synth clouds spread, slowing to a sludgy grind, chugging and torching to the end. “(reprise)” repeats melodies and vocal lines from “Majka” in hypnotic fashion, leading into “Oy Letilo Kupailo” that starts with dark guitars, and the singing giving off a Ludicra vibe. That’s something that repeats over this record, which makes it even more alluring. The playing speeds up and bathes with melodic warmth, the leads emerging and bubbling with muddy, intense barreling. “Urodyla Mene Mate” is mashing as the singing pushes, the darker strains making things feel chilling on the surface. A spirited rush makes the chorus rise, ripping into rougher terrain, wild yells causing your blood to rush, dual voices mixing and increasing the energy. Guitars thrash as the playing turns morose, wordless calls rousing as shrieks lash flesh. “Letila Zozulia” buzzes in as the dual voices meld, the guitars increasing the storminess. The playing is rousing and speedy, blazing as singing spirals, guitars char, and everything fades into time. “Hora Za Horoyu” lands with guitars stinging, the singing rousing as the atmosphere increases, floating into dreamier terrain, everything gaining more spirit as the tension builds. The force trudges as the colorful vocals sweeps, ending in immersive fire.

“Oy U Lisi, V Lisi” slinks and lurches, the singing rounding and basking in folkish melodies, the electricity reaching out and jolting. Howls echo as the guitars add layers of filth, compounding emotions and injecting infectious vibes into your veins. “Oyfn Pripetshik” has guitars folding in and srmashing, dual singing sweltering, a doomy underbelly making things feel a little murkier. Things get heavier and weightier, the playing turning on the heat, blistering until everything fades away. “Nasha Mate Na Bazari Bula” is infectious and mystifying, the playing hanging in the balance and luring you into its juicy center. There’s great storminess that’s rollicking but not dangerous, the singing awash in charisma, the pace ravaging you and pulling you under the water. “Okro Mch’edelo” has the drums pacing with might, the riffs spiraling, the singing awash in character that makes it impossible not to reward with your undivided attention. The playing bustles and entrances, surging with power that refuses to let go, making you feel every second. “Vikozhu Odin Ya Na Dorogu” brings cloudy synth, choral expressions soothing, the pace pushing and pulling, luring you into the heart of the track. Then, there’s a surprise. The band suddenly breaks into the chorus of “Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love,” the Van Halen classic, and they fucking nail it. Then we shift back into the scene, guitars glimmering and the singing lathering, the fires slowly letting go. “Spod Tego Jawora” revels in doom and snaking heat, riffs tangling around your waist. The singing rouses, and then the tempo rips, pelting with power, rounding back into group vocals that dig deep into your ribcage. The playing slows but loses no power, the singing stretching, and then we’re into gnarly death, smoking you into oblivion.

“Folk Songs” is unlike any other metal record you’re going to hear this year, mainly because there’s not bound to be another band collecting classic folk songs and turning them into crushers. Zelenaya has a charisma and style that is so fun to experience, and I can only imagine what they bring in a live setting. Unearthing these Eastern European gems, tracking down the words and melodies, and adding dark, energetic overtones transforms these for modern times and pays homage to its creators so their works are not lost to time.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://zelenaya.bandcamp.com/album/folk-songs

Dealing with loss is something that should not be taken lightly nor should it be brushed off to the side. The grief will find you and cripple you, your mental health could suffer in ways you never expected, and the process of working through the pain and trauma takes a very long time, the work never really ending ever.

 “Of Blood and Memory” is the new record from avant-garde doom duo To End It All, and these songs act as a means of dealing with loss, trying to move on and continue life after someone important to us passes on. These songs, which are sonically much different from what we heard on the downright gutting “Scourge of Women,” feel purposely more delicate, guiding the listener into the heart of pain and trying to create a way to spark remembrance and help process the myriad emotions that come with such a traumatic event. The band—vocalist & multi-instrumentalist Joy Von Spain and sound artist Masaaki Masao, both of Eye of Nix—are joined by cellist Lori Goldston (formerly of Earth who also played live in Nirvana) and vocalist/guitarist A.K. O’Neill (from Serpentent) to add more texture to these tracks that are awash in dark emotion and sounds that aim to align with grief. By the way, there also is a remixed version of the record being released as a companion piece on the same day, which lets you hear and absorb these pieces in a different form.

“Introduction” opens and add haunting sounds into your psyche, clean singing hanging overhead like a coming storm, the calls, “Burn like blisters,” resonating. The title track starts amid racket, guitars melting as mechanical noises strip gears, a synth haze pulling over a blanket of energy. Shrieks carve before synth pumps dress the anguish with steam, a dreamy stretch ringing out. “Hunt (Root Out the Source)” runs 9:12, hovering with drone like an engine, animalistic howls digging under your fingernails. The playing is vicious but also airy, the sounds rushing through, industrial pressure becoming a bigger factor as the insanity collects. The heat pressurizes and suddenly turns icy, the clanging bouncing off the inside of your skull as everything fades. “Foreign Tissue” lands with cello scraping, choral calls swirling as an angelic beam warms the surface, the aura feeling lovely but foreboding. A synth sheen collects, darkened traumas bubbling to the surface.

“A Year of Lapidation” brings lush synth and singing rising, the fluttering aligning with your heart palpitations. Howls carve as pained energy jolts you, the drums smashing as voices echo. Rush-like keys glaze, adding to the dark drama, the synth dissolving into clouds. “The Drink of Silence” is eerie as sounds dance over coals, the singing icing your wounds, echoing and floating through a dreamscape. The playing feels lighter, almost weightless at times, the voice swimming amid heat lightning. “Oyasumi” starts with pianos dripping and strings, lush singing circling the floor, the softness landing with unexpected directness. Static waves fall, pianos continue to pelt the ground, gorgeous and sorrowful playing trickling, eventually consumed by fire. The heat blazes, the clouds gathering and heading toward a warbling end. Closer “Elegy” is a goth-fueled front, the singing teasing a liturgical sense, revealing a sense of vulnerability. Von Spain’s operatic calls reach a swirling high, swelling and resonating, filling your chest with energy and emotion that brings you to your knees before letting you see strange visions.

“Of Blood and Memory” is a record that isn’t suitable listening in all situations, which is a compliment and a warning. This is a different side of To End It All, one that works to align with the rawest of our human experiences and the devastation that it leaves behind. It sounds like a gorgeous collection of music that should be something that soothes the darkest hours of the day; but it hides with it something that opens wounds that never healed, and you must face that head on in order to truly live again.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.romannumeralrecords.com/merch

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

Talk about seeing some shit. We all have our own harrowing experiences, and no matter what that entails, it impacts us. Going back to this well, the last four years have been tragic and sobering for many of us as our world has changed significantly. But giving up doesn’t have to be an option, so let’s consider what carrying on might bring us.

“Find a Way Forward” is the first new Black Tusk record in six years, and they have dealt with their share of heartbreak and trauma. But here we are in 2024, and the band—guitarist/vocalist Andrew Fidler, guitarist/vocalist Chris “Scary” Adams, bassist/vocalist/synth player Derek Lynch, drummer/vocalist James May—is trying to ignite positivity, especially after they have suffered such loss and torment. But they never stopped, and this record keeps piling onto their Southern-fried sludge, their endless optimism that we can overcome our downfalls, losses, and grief and come out on the other side more battle-tested for it.

“Out of Grasp” rips open, gnarly howls digging into your skin, the screamy yowls teaming up with the grime, which happens over the whole record. And every Black Tusk record. A melodic gust whips as everything tangles and burns out in chaos. “Brushfire” brings throaty howls and heavy chugging, a dark haze hanging over with the howl of, “I am your burning!” corroding flesh. The heat keeps piling on, wrecking completely, ending in department store muzak. “Harness (The Alchemist)” starts with the bass unloading, the stunted shouts of “Ashes! Dust!” laying waste. The playing feels like a brawl, trudging and caking blood, fluid leads taking over and adding some light, the final gusts feeling surprisingly catchy. “Lessons Through Deception” lets sounds hang in the air, gruff growls working alongside boiling guitars, the howls and shrieks joining up for madness. “The fire will burn!” signals danger ahead, speeding through heat and ash. “Breath of Life” lasers in, the humidity working up to an uncomfortable level, the vocals teaming and increasing the terrors. The drums combust before the playing pulls back a bit, allowing the leads to heat up, a slow churn to thicken, and a noise bath to flood over the rim.

“Dance on Your Grave” starts with a thick bassline stalking, and then the power ignites, the band delivering a punk-fueled attack. The playing is speedy and fiery, the howls lacerating as the madness gets more impenetrable, lathering with spirit before burning off. “Against the Undertow” drives with propulsive guitars and vocals breathing fire, the bludgeoning taking on even more menace. The vocals then are spat out at a frantic clip, stomping guts into the ground. “Lift Yourself” backs in feedback and ferocious riffs, guttural wails taking its liberties with applying damage. The leads rush as back-and-forth vocals play tug of war with your physical well-being, drawing blood and letting it create a sticky tributary. “Ocean of Obsidian” is a quick breather, an instrumental cut with tingling, warbling sounds, feeling hypnotic and slurry, setting the stage for “Flee From Dawn” that immediately takes off. Charring yells mix with stomping playing, letting your blood race dangerously as the voices take turns destroying you. The tempo gets speedier and strangling, bringing everything to a flattering finish. Closer “The Way Forward” opens with an acoustic tease before grease fires rage out of control, gravelly howls peeling flesh from muscle. Twin leads glimmer as the playing thrashes and glows, throwing some final bare-knuckle shots before fading into filth.

Black Tusk have had their share of triumphs and tragedies, and the fact they use “Find a Way Forward” as a positive thrust into improvement is a testament to their strength. The band is as blistering and bludgeoning as ever, and these tracks feel like they fly by while you’re finding yourself absolutely scorched. It’s great to see this band still standing, making thunderous music, and setting an example for others who are struggling and could use some positive reinforcement as they claw their way back.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/band/black-tusk

Or here (International): https://shop.season-of-mist.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.season-of-mist.com/

Most of us have friends, acquaintances, family members, you name it, who have a collection of stories that makes you wonder how they’re still alive and how much of their mythology is real. That’s part of the fun of it, I guess, knowing this person has seen some insane shit and somehow lived to deliver these wild memories to eager ears.

Far be it for anyone to doubt the authenticity Megan Osztrosits’ stories, because this is real shit, stuff she’s seen, experienced, survived, and that somehow made her one of the most engaging vocalists in all of heavy music. That must mean we have a new Couch Slut record, and you bet your ass we do on “You Could Do It Tonight,” their fourth LP. Along with Osztrosits are guitarist Dylan DiLella, guitarist/flute player/trumpet player Amy Mills, bassist/synth player Kevin Hall, and drummer/synth player Theo Nobel, who reward your indulgence to jump into the madness with nine tracks that box in your head. The music has grown a bit more experimental and daring, the vocals still grabbing you by the throat, inviting you to digest a series of stories and events that could break most people. At the same time, it’s fun as fuck, a record that’ll terrify 9 out of 10 people completely. Or, depending on the people, 10 out of 10. By the way, we also get some guttural guest vocal spots from Doug Moore (Pyrrhon, Scarcity) and Zachary Ezrin (Imperial Triumphant, Folterkammer).

“Couch Slut Lewis” screams with feedback as the bass drives, Osztrosits’ snarling howls feeling like jagged glass across your chest. The vibe feels ominous and dark, which judging by the track’s story is fitting. The playing spirals and makes your extremities feel swollen, Osztrosits wailing, “The spit and handprints all down her neck, she looked up at me, and god was she pissed.” “Ode to Jimbo,” a tribute to Brooklyn bar Jimbo Slim’s, swirls and dizzies, the sinister, yet joyful intent delivered on the menace of Osztrosits’ singing. The playing pounds and gasps, guitars turning on added heat, smoking and obscuring, Osztrosits howling, “Buried! Goodnight, spilled my beer in the backseat of the car,” as the track comes to a scathing end. “Wilkinson’s Sword” brings more melodic guitars, Osztrosits’ wails telling a harrowing tale of rifling through a doctor’s cabinet, eventually lifting some disposable scalpels. Guitars wash as the bass smears, trudging and ending in soot. “The Donkey” opens with sounds whirring, Osztrosits narrating a story about her and her friends getting fired from a haunted waterpark. Would you believe blood was involved? The song is part spoken, part shrieked, dissonant guitars warping your mind. Things keep pounding harder, and finally the tension lifts musically, but the tale isn’t over, Osztrosits recounting a profession of love coupled with an invitation to live in someone’s grandfather’s backyard shed.

“Presidential Welcome” is an interlude, and it’s also a welcome to side B, spoken by Joseph Bone who proclaims himself the president of side B. Hails. “Energy Crystals for Healing” goes hard, the bass clobbering, the guitars making you grasp the wall for balance. The howls gut as the trudging leans into scathing heat, the guitars burning like a tire fire. “I told her yes in the parking lot,” Osztrosits belts, “I told her yes once inside,” as the tension tightens like a vice around a head, ending in a bludgeoning. “Downhill Racer” is both melodic and manic, the guitars searching and then strangling, atmospheric carnage stretching like a storm. Growls carve over throats as the track gets uglier and more heated, suddenly ending in a psychedelic splash. “Laughing and Crying” bubbles and lathers before Osztrosits’ shrieks peel back flesh as she calls, “Quiet as a mouse, lips over teeth, fingers over mouths.” Guitars turn more hypnotic, drubbing and stabbing, the noise scraping at wounds nowhere near healing. “The Weaversville Home for Boys” is in the vein of “Won’t Come” and “Someplace Cheap,” a record ender that’ll stick in your psyche for long after you hear the track. Osztrosits howls most of the story, a tale of three boys who escaped said home for boys and went on a violent reign of terror throughout the area. The playing is grimy and confrontational, a strange recounting of a seeming urban legend turned possibly true by the startling twist at the end. The final moments feel like it’s dropping you off a cliff, the playing letting you fall quickly and violently to your demise.

“You Could Do It Tonight” is another mentally scarred, openly bleeding collection of metallic noise rock that is unlike anything else you’ll hear from anyone. Yes, a lot of that is Osztrosits’ acidic and chaotic delivery, as well as the nature of her stories, but the rest of Couch Slut provide the perfect setting to all of this, doing more than their part to leave deep gashes. Every Couch Slut record is an experience that makes you feel like you blacked out on some strange substance, have spotty recollection of what occurred in that time, and are left to deal with the aftermath for years and years to come.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.brutalpandarecords.com/collections/couch-slut

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

There are advantages and disadvantages to having the heavy metal world stretched as far as it is. We have bands and sounds and ideas we’ve never imagined before, but we also have a lot of releases, some of them very good that don’t really push boundaries as far as creativity is concerned. That’s not a knock. Not all bands can do insane shit. But when we find a band that puts metal’s DNA in a blender in a great way, we’re here for that.

Folterkammer, a black metal band with operatic vocals, might sound too gimmicky to some. I can get that on the surface. But dig into the music, notably what you hear on their incredible second record “Weibermacht,” and you’ll know you’re facing a relentless force that has something much different to say and present in the best possible way. Their debut “Die Lederpredigt” was our No. 4 record of 2020, but this album might be better. Concentrating on BDSM and richly horny topics, the band—vocalist Andromeda Anarchia, guitarists Zachary Ezrin and Darren Hanson, bassist Laurent David, drummer Brendan McGowan (Steve Blanco provides harpsichord)—delivers on all fronts that most would be bashful to confront from a sexual standpoint. But we’re hardly sex or fetish shamers on this site, and combined with the jazzy and avant-garde approach to black metal, we have a playful, yet violently direct (Anarchia’s ripping German grinds your face) approach to this style that is remarkably refreshing and sexually liberating. Oh, and it makes the woman the dominating force, which, absolutely no problem here!

“Anno Domina” drives with maniacal force, Anarchia’s operatic calls ruling everything, gushing with drama that’s deliciously over the top. A baroque feel is achieved, leaving your flesh cold and prone, and the crack of the whip is the wakeup call, Anarchia’s growls turning on you and dragging you to the end. “Leck Mich” brings snarling riffs as melodic singing swells, the snarled chorus (translates to “lick me,” though there are other takes on this) plays games with your psyche. A blinding force takes over and allows organs to rise and the pace to utterly destroy, amplifying the filthy adventure which you have under taken. “Die Unterwerfung” opens with a dramatic dialog from Anarchia, chambery playing making things feel disarmingly intoxicating. Angelic calls mix with the abject black metal horrors, a hellish choral effect taking over, shrieks piling and adding a touch of bloodshed to an atmospheric ripe with alluring calls. “Kuess mir die Fuesse” translates to “kiss my feet,” leans into fully embracing fetish, the storming letting you know not only is that welcome but fully encouraged. The playing is vicious and fiery at times, the shrieks working down your spine violently, pounding and charging, making you blood race before a dizzying finish.

“Algolagnia” is the act of experiencing sexual pleasure from pain, and as the bass slinks in and black riffs carve, shrieks explode, the guitars working themselves into tornadic bliss. Screams jar as the energy slashes limbs, the guitars are worked into a frenzy, and a demonic dialog sends chills. Guitars flood and storm, screams build, and everything comes to a thrilling end. “Herrin der Schwerter” is sprawling and bubbling, wild roars bustling, the darkness flourishing into something a little more dangerous. Guitars gain heat as the vocals push every button imaginable, the speed taking up and making you heart race out of control. “Das Peitschengedicht” means “the whip poem,” and guitars quiver as the track is torn open from the guts, operatic wails mixing with vicious shrieks that leave you maimed. The playing gets faster as angelic calls make your body temperature rise, shrieks wrench of a melodic sprawl, and an attack that feels power metal in origin drives the track to its final gasps. We end with a cover of Velvet Underground’s 1967 track “Venus in Furs,” itself a look at sadomasochism and bondage. The band puts on a playful and jarring a take as possible, Anarchia practically licking up every line and lashing them back out, the playing feeling equal parts theatrical and unhinged.

Folterkammer’s music likely won’t appeal to wide swaths of the metal world due to its unconventional approach and sound, but those who connect to this are bound to go in hard, because it really is that good. From Anarchia’s mix of operatic singing to her sinister shrieks and the band’s fiery accompaniment, this record will leave listeners quivering, shaking, maybe a little aroused. This is a huge step up from their great debut album, and it’s something that’s going to stick in your sweat and saliva for a long time to come.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://centurymedia.store/collections/folterkammer

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

There’s a reason works of art land so hard for many of us. We find something in these creations that seem to relate to our lives, our plights, and who we are personally, and it’s natural to make a connection with the creator of said pieces because they appear to be telling us a story about our own lives.

BIG|BRAVE vocalist/guitarist Robin Wattie did just that leading up to the creation of their new record “A Chaos of Flowers,” the most musically diverse of their run. She was trying to find old poems and folk traditions in the public domain, which led her to a lot of work made almost exclusively by men. Therefore, Wattie delved back into the pieces by female writers and creators who expressed their views of womanhood and helped her connect even more psychologically to those writings. Joined by her bandmates guitarist Mathieu Ball and drummer Tasy Hudson, they carved out an eight-track record that contains some of their noisier elements from past releases but also heads deeper into a more delicate path, showing a musical side we haven’t heard fully before. It’s a welcoming, jarring record that may take a few visits to blossom, but once it does, it takes on a life of its own.

“i felt a funeral” has strings stinging and Wattie’s singing fluttering, a dream state in static achieved from the start. Electrics snarl as things get meditative, bubbling and melting, delicate singing taking on a folk sense, warm fuzz lapping to the finish. “not speaking of the ways” cuts in and lets guitars build a foam, moving and lathering, emotional singing weighing on psyches. Layers are buried in psyche and bluesy heat, threatening slightly and slowly lurching, Wattie repeatedly calling out over the din, “Love and lovers,” everything blending into your mind. “chanson pour mon ombre” is French sung, dissonant guitars scraping over a bed of acoustics, noises jolting and tangling. The singing builds as sounds bustle, energies quaking and succumbing to echo. “canon : in canon” features Marisa Anderson on guitar, and from the start a warm buzz is emitted, swimming through emotion and tumult, the singing guiding as electric slowly swallow. Light hovers like an engine as the playing bends, cymbals crash, and the end draws near.

“a song for Marie part iii,” a series that started on 2014’s “Feral Verdure,” hovers in eerie sounds, guitars gently glazing, your head swimming in strangeness that leads into “theft” that opens just as ominously. The singing numbs as the playing meanders through a foggy dusk feel, coating your face with dew, guitars quivering and humming. Noise scrapes as obscured visions come to pass, sizzling in your mind and slipping into your consciousness. “quotidian : solemnity” soaks in feedback, harmonized singing adding to the atmospheric pull, pushing through interference and sounds bouncing off walls. Voices slip into your ears like a whispering ghost, the pressure pulsating before losing its intensity. Closer “moonset” is delicate and fantasy-like, the singing making the hairs on your flesh rise, steady guitars dripping. A cool desert vibe takes hold as sounds clash and mash, the heat finally rises, and all of the forces meld within slowly dissipating power.

Musically, this is the most varied and delicate BIG|BRAVE album yet, one that still holds its share of force and electric power but isn’t shy to show a delicate, reflective side. Not that we needed a breath of fresh air from this band at all, but “A Chaos of Flowers” provides just that, a record that can accompany meditation and one’s own psychological journeys. Along with this is Wattie’s own journey to find works to which she relates and that speak to her experience, which this record could be for other people looking for a resonating voice.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://thrilljockey.com/products/a-chaos-of-flowers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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