Well, time to sound like an asshole again, so here goes: Very few bands manage to do thrash metal right, the way it sounded in its 1980s heyday, and a lot of that is because you can’t just pick up an old album and capture the essence. But it can be done on rare occasion, and it’s glorious when all the buttons are mashed just right.

Ready for Death are back with record no. 2, that being “Pay With Your Face,” and this 12-track beast really nails the punk-fueled, politically minded, smashing madness from an era that never can be repeated. The attitude is here as is the brutality and the sense of humor as the band—vocalist Artie White, guitarist Dallas Thomas (formerly of Pelican), bassist/synth player Luca Cimarusti, drummer Shawn Brewer—tears through these 34 minutes, wasting no time at all and maximizing every second. Yeah, it reflects on morbid times, but it’s also a blast to hear, and these guys would not be out of place on a bill sandwiched between Exodus and Anthrax. 

“Spacebreeders” rips open with drums echoing and guitars raining down, howls trudging over you like a reckless machine. Guitars spiral as the humidity ticks up, blistering with meaty pounding. The title track is a fast one, attacking with speed, hammering vocals, and a smeary assault that wrecks skeletons. “Cannibal Cops” is ridiculous on the surface, but pleasingly so, and digging into the track, they’re fucking going for it. Gang shouts of the simple chorus rampage as guitars rule, the vocals wrench, and the stirring chaos envelopes. “Motherfucker, it’s the cannibal cops,” White warns, torching to the end. “God Send the Asteroid”  is an understandable title considering where we are, and it’s a punk-fueled blast, complete with catchy guitars, hardcore-style brute force, and animalistic devastation. “Going to the afterlife!” sounds like a charge delivered tongue in cheek as the heat finally subsides, the guitars melting away. “Doomsday Everyday” is another quick blast, the group shouts of the title rampaging your spine, brutality leaking out of each crevice, a scalding soloing giving one more violent shove. “The Harvest” chugs as the temperatures rise, and then things fully fire up, metallic riffs pulling walls down. “You’re running for your life,” White howls repeatedly, the pressure building before a scorching end.

“Digital Witch” begins with weird noise chicanery and doomy riffs, and then it’s onto a full beating, guitars teasing and mashing before burning away. “Lawbreaker” has menacing guitars and screams curdling, a beating administered as the guitars begin to flex. The heat becomes insurmountable as the back end of the track stomps guts, the guitars blaze anew, and an explosive gust brings an abrupt end. “Project T.A.R.A.N.T.U.L.A.” lumbers, the drums thundering, the guitars picking up the pace and twisting muscle. The title is howled over and over (well, at least the  T.A.R.A.N.T.U.L.A. part is), lodging itself in your brain as the playing soars, and thrashy madness consumes. “Sewage of the Divine” destroys, guitars churning, sinewy playing leaving bruises. Guitars agitate melodically as the thrashiness multiplies dangerously, lighting up one more time before fading. “Utopia of War” has the bass driving and a more atmospheric aura backing the punishment. Slashing colors play tricks with your brain as relentless howls of, “You suffer!” run into ravaging drums and intense melody. Closer “Rat Chaser” begins with drums rupturing, savage power exploding, and a swarming, suffocating attack. “Chase rats!” is yelped over the chorus as the playing levels, guitars slink, and a strange cosmic vibe disintegrates.

Ready for Death bring a refreshing edge to a reality that is really not the best on “Pay With Your Face.” It also returns to a time when thrash metal often sounded fun and furious but also packed harrowing messages that strangely still resonate today. If it’s all over for us, there’s nothing we really can do than watch the ruling class burn everything to the ground, and this music will go a long way toward soundtracking that insanity.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://translationloss.com/collections/ready-for-death

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

Times are chaotic right now, as bad as they’ve probably been in my lifetime, or at least in my adulthood, and it seems silly to split hairs with art on the surface, but it’s actually pretty crucial. Do you want to put your money in the pocket of some fascist asshole who’s OK with all of this? If your answer is yes, please get the fuck out of here.

LA-based one-man black metal power Tumultuous Ruin has been one of the reliable ones the last few years as our world has grown more toxic, and his unflinching opposition to fascism and oppression is noteworthy and honorable. If you’re new to the band helmed by RH, his new EP “Never a Night So Dark” (the title is lifted from a John Brown quote) is the perfect entrance point. These four songs are culled from tracks he created for benefit releases so they all can live in a single home, and there’s an interesting cover thrown into the mix. The band’s style of black metal leans on the raw, untamed side, and this is a nice sampling to hopefully entice more folks to get into an artist whose heart is in the right place and can properly destroy.

“Undead Corpse of Empire” drills open, sooty growls clogging veins, screams by guest vocalist Stone Crow rippling down spines. The riffs lather as the battering ram gets meaner, the chorus rushing over bloody ground, melodies enrapturing, and some final shrieks jarring your senses. “Toward Their Chains” starts in clean eeriness, a slow-driving pace making you sustain every blow, mournful melodies dripping into a lapse of time. The playing goes cold as the sound surrounds your psyche, a quote from “Fellowship of the Ring” where Aragon laments, “It’s long since we had any hope,” making for a sobering message in these times. The playing continues to flood into time, blazing once more before coming to a rest. “Climate Chaos Manifest” ravages, a blistering force ripping at you, a brief gasp of calm lingering before incineration. A hammering force emerges and chews through rock, rushing and rampaging, a melodic black metal wave enveloping, leaving the carnage sizzling in gazey fervor. “Smothered Hope” is a cover of the Skinny Puppy track from 1984’s “Remission,” and it’s a properly blackened, even more sinister version of the bouncy, creaky original. It’s melodic and thornier, with RH doing a fine job translating Nivek Ogre’s strangulating voice but with his own dark flourish that makes it more sinister.

This compilation EP gives a nice glimpse of what Tumultuous Ruin do so well, and these four tracks pack enough punishment and righteous indignation to get a newcomer started on a really strong back catalog. The fact the band carries the banner for battling fascism and often has their work benefitting noble causes is another reason to toss some money their way as you know it won’t be funding assholes. This is a nice appetizer for whatever comes next for this band as well as a quick foray into Tumultuous Ruin, which always is worth your time and damage to your hearing.   

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

To buy the album, go here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/merch

Or here: https://tumultuousruin.bandcamp.com/album/never-a-night-so-dark-ep

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

As you get older, the idea of your own demise comes a little closer in the front view than most might find comfortable. That’s if you live a long life into old age. But that shit can come for you at any time, any place, any situation, and dealing with a brush with death or someone else’s is enough to wreak havoc on your own mentality.

Canadian black metal force Witherer pack all of that trauma and catharsis into “Shadow Without a Horizon,” their debut full-length. The band itself—Tiamoath (vocals, guitars, bass, songwriting, keyboards, bells),  Øhrracle (vocals, guitars), Hex Visceræ (drums)—experienced health issues and too-close-for-comfort scrapes with death, and that’s packed into these five tracks and 53 minutes of torment. Black metal remains their base, but there is a lot of slow-burning doom cooked into this thing, and if you feel like the music is making you dizzy and disoriented, you’re not alone. This is punishing mentally and physically, an album that sees its horrors to the end.

“Fiat Umbra (Burial Beneath the Stalactites)” opens basking in darkness, a long introspection melting into warped heat, growls mauling as the guitars boil. Feral calls rip as the vibe grows weird and trudging, calls marring as doom elements grow thicker and stickier, whispers confounding before eeriness peaks, psychosis melting as spiraling playing stabs the senses. Guitars flex again, the growls corrode, and bizarre power blurs before fading. “Devourer of All Graveyards” attacks, howls snarling, guitars angling and cutting into your muscles. Smoke rises as the tempo slows, remaining just as heavy but slightly tricky. Guest vocalist M. Adem lends her pipes by adding wordless calls, and then clean singing bellows, growls smear, and an ugly, deranged assault spirals and stings before disappearing into dust. “The Wailing Hours (Plummeting Under the Tunnels)” is an instrumental with sounds hovering, dank guitars echoing, and the feeling of being stuck in a basement isolating you.

“Solar Collapse Mandala” has cries pulling at flesh and a hammering pace, guitars gripping as the growls crush, the playing veering toward hypnosis. It feels like a drug haze dream as the pressure turns into strange colors, the momentum mounts, and the delirious melodies pin you to the earth. Guitars bloody as a final gasp attacks, trucking and sprawling to the end. Closer “Praises (Gliding Through the Lightless Sea)” is the longest track, running 15:30, and the echoey slurriness permeates, howls doing damage, the bass slinking into the unknown. Growls sicken as the mesmerizing playing angles toward chaos, the heat rising as the band slowly batters, the bass again flexing hard. The vocals gurgle as the guitars melt, going off into sooty tension, mixing into a mystical soundscape. A last detonation arrives, bringing animalistic damage, sounds whirring, and the last strains of words mixing into echoes.

Brushes with one’s demise obviously can make a significant impact on you mentally, and that reality is all over “Shadow Without a Horizon,” one hell of a weighty debut record for Witherer. These are universal themes, and while it might not always (or ever) feel good to face these forces, they cannot be avoided, so confronting them can build strength. This album doesn’t exactly go down easily, nor was it intended to, and each experience with these five songs can leave anyone bruised, vulnerable, band, perhaps, enlightened. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://hypaethralrecords.com/collections/witherer

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

I have a real issue with downtime in that I have no idea what to do with myself when I have too much time on my hands. ADHD doesn’t help matters, and I can get restless in a hurry. I think if I played an instrument or had some kind of creative outlet other than this one, I could manage. Yet here I am, struggling.

Carl Skildum, who you know from projects such as Inexorum, Majesties, and Antiverse, luckily has his musical talent and a practical arsenal of riffs to keep him going, and his new project Skjolden is a product of him keeping himself engaged in between bands. Luckily for us, “Insouciant Metaphysical Grandeur” is a hell of a ride, one Skildum will painstakingly point out is not slick or polished, a result of his own true solo work, yet that layer of dirt and grime adds more charm to these black metal beasts. The project itself takes its name from the village in Norway from which his ancestors left to come to America. Immigration officials could not spell or pronounce the village, and they mistook it for their last name, so it got changed to Skildum. Pretty cool background for this thunderous work!

“In Resplendent Obscurity” unfurls with melodic riffs, the rhythm section rumbling, and howls rippling through the murky void. The vibe is catchy as hell as synth rises behind the chaos, guitars sprint, and a fiery force combines with speed and swelling keys to obscure your mind. “The Fever Swamp of Magickal Thought” has riffs tearing and exploring, furious howls belting flesh, and a chorus that sinks in and makes your blood flow. The energetic burst continues as a colorful assault dashes reds and oranges across the sky, lurching into a mystical haze. “Insouciant Metaphysical Grandeur” is punchy and melodic, growls doing damage, a guitar flurry picking you up and transporting you elsewhere. A brief respite is cut into by vibrant keys and a cosmic push that pushes your imagination into the stars.

“Keeper of the Silent Heart” has guitars fluttering, howls menacing, and a fluid attack mixing into a synth sprawl that feels majestic. The playing turns burly and furious, guitars tangling amid growls that bruise eye sockets, blazing to a massive finish. “While Dying” has guitars spilling and incinerating, the howls reaching into the clouds, keys zapping as the smoke keeps rising. Guitars set the horizon ablaze as total fury is meted out, feeling like its reach wraps around the world. “Can’t Kill My Love” is driving with ashen growls, the pace crumbling, melodies acting like laser beams through thick clouds. The pace sprints and meets up with cool keys, glazing as your wounds congeal, a delirious finish shaking your brain loose. Closer “Narthex Terminus” brings guitars lighting up from the start, howls smearing, a jarring, pummeling push compromising your balance. The vocals wrench as guitars lather, gushing and moving toward extinguishing a massive fire that’s been raging from the start, a final cascade of keys acting as a cooling agent.

“Insouciant Metaphysical Grandeur” may be raw and rough around the edges, but it’s a dynamic piece of work, something that should grab onto most devourers of black metal and give them something to get their juices flowing. Skjolden may be Skildum’s downtime project, but this record holds a lot more potential beyond that, proving again this dude never runs out of ideas. This is a really fun record, a nice nod to Skildum’s roots (both musical and familial), and a barnstormer that gets more infectious with each listen.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://skjolden.bandcamp.com/album/insouciant-metaphysical-grandeur

I know. You have no idea why you’re being served political ads on your social media platforms that vehemently disagree with you. You block them and more appear. You can’t seem to get ahead of this no matter what you do, and after a while, you realize all you’re doing is trying to make corrections to something unfixable. You’re stuck here.

“An Insatiable Violence” is the new record from long-running technical death metal power Cryptopsy, and these eight songs and their theme are like glimpses into our psyche. Vocalist Matt McGachy got the idea of a story where each day a person wakes up and tries to fix a machine, only to find torture and frustration at every corner. It consumes this person, yet every day, they return. The algorithmic cages that capture us is a clear example of this, and it’s enough to upend on our lives. The rest of the band—guitarist Christian Donaldson, bassist Oli Pinard, drummer/backing vocalist Flo Mounier—adds insane precision, speed, and savagery to these songs, making it one of their most bloodthirsty yet. Nine records in, this band shows no slowing, no mercy, and no solace as the cycles in which we’re trapped repeat until we die or we finally give up the machine.

“The Nimis Adoration” immediately tears the lid off the thing, and from this point, there’s nary a moment to breathe on this thing. It’s maniacal and it ravages, and you expect that, and they deliver. McGachy’s penchant for toggling between shriek and growl remains impeccable, and swampy, brutal power brings this to an end. “Until There’s Nothing Left” pulverizes, screams maiming, the pounding feeling like it’s inside your brain. Bass reverberates as the pace thrashes, the soloing melting the bones in your meat suit, crushing fury ramping up and spilling over the sides. “Dead Eyes Replete” unleashes hell, punishing as the vocals smear, aggravating a monstrous response that turns into a full-on attack. The screws tighten as the screams destroy, and the final moments nail you to the floor. “Fools Last Acclaim” has the drums decimating, snarling power crawling, and the growls squashing bowels. The insanity manages to come even more unglued, the ferocity reaching dangerous levels, guitars spiraling and smoking, everything ending abruptly.

“The Art of Emptiness” is spacious as it dawns, letting fog encircle McGachy’s doomed speaking, a calculated pace threatening to blow. And it does as flesh is fed to the gears, growls twisting and wrenching, mashing as guitars lather. The viciousness continues to flood over, slipping into strange noises and right into “Our Great Deception” that also has some newer colors. The guitars trickle and even tease jazziness, and then everything gushes to life, charring and charging, feeling mostly unhinged. Leads soar and glisten and even give off a power metal shine, the zaniness multiplies and tramples, and all-around loopiness makes for a dizzying finish. “Embrace the Nihility” starts hypnotically, eventually blistering and trudging, growls boiling as the guitars slash. The pace fully engulfs as crazed screams cut into thick streams of melody, and the darting chaos ends in madness. Closer “Malicious Needs” utterly destroys, the drumming making powder from bones, sinewy leads disturbing brain functions. Vicious growls go for the throat as gargantuan punishment is force fed, and then things unexpectedly cool, blurring like obscuring clouds, fading into a fog.

“An Insatiable Violence” certainly is a grind, and a powerful one, and its commentary on how we continually find new ways to torture ourselves mentally is heard loud and clear. This is one of the most savage records in Cryptopsy’s storied catalog, and after logging three decades as a band, they still manage to find more than enough ways to remain violent but also thought provoking. This is a battering ram that knows no quit, and if you’re somehow unprepared for this, get ready to be consumed body and mind by this machine.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://orcd.co/cryptopsyaninsatiableviolence

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

There’s a certain style of heavy metal, a very particular formula that, at the risk of sounding like an asshole, is something I’m not sure can be understood fully by someone born past a certain year. It’s the sound of metal in its younger years when it was figuring itself and delivering some of the most extreme sounds of that time, and living at the time of that genesis makes this have more impact.

Helms Deep deliver the tried-and-true essence of early 1980s metal, and their admitted inspiration cited from Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and the criminally underrated Riot. It sounds like they create their music in the same room as the masters in their prime, and that’s heavily apparent on their second record “Chasing the Dragon.” The brainchild of vocalist/guitarist Alex Sciortino is a dynamic, fast, exciting throwback that is lucky to also have a major figure from metal’s early years on bassist John Gallagher, of the legendary Raven. Along with guitarist Ray DeTone (Paul Di’Anno’s Killers) and drummer Hal Aponte (Ice Age), the band delivers the goods over and over on this 11-track, 58-minute brawler that gets the juices flowing, the spiked wristbands locked on tight. Helms Deep also is joined by guest musicians Liang Wu (erhu) and Cliff Hackford (tabla) to add some mystique and different textures to this killer.

“Wing Chun” is a mystical, Far East-inspired instrumental opening, leading into barnstormer “Black Sefirot” that just flattens. True vintage heavy metal is achieved, the bass rumbling, a great, simple chorus soaring, and leads that scream Priest. Guitars burst, the chorus blasts back, and everything ends in a blaze of glory. The title track glows brightly, the singing driving, great energy surging through veins. Twin leads blind, and another easy chorus follows. The quick “recite the title” chorus works well for them, but it does bite them in the ass a little bit on this record. The pace keeps jolting, ending in fire. “Craze of the Vampire” begins like early ’80s Maiden, deep singing transitioning to banshee wails, the chorus wonderfully reeking of Deep Purple. The leads layer and continue to build a classic foundation, the bass swaggers, and some prog flourishes blend into warmth and speed served generously together. “Cursed” packs in riffs that feel born of steel four decades ago, the vocals ripping, the power sprawling. The pace is chugging and punchy, the guitars taking on thick humidity, the chorus tearing back, the temperatures rising dangerously. “Flight of the Harpy” has riffs firing, punchy singing, and the title wailed over the chorus. The tempo gallops and toughens up, tearing into fantastical melodies, blasting out with intensity.

“Frozen Solid” charges as the riffs snarl, high-pitched singing sending jolts down your spine, another simple chorus leading the way. The vocals turn in near-glass-shattering highs, the massive tempos rushing toward you, the playing ravaging to the end. “Necessary Evil” starts with deeper singing, the colors coming in a little darker, another basic chorus riding, though in this case it kind of doesn’t work for the song. But the passion is there, soloing blasting, the singing feeling raspier in spots, a knifing pace shaking the ground. “Red Planet” feels cosmic and spacious when it opens, chugging and swimming in the murk, a much different style of chorus adding new colors. Guitars sprawl as a strong progressive flame burns, warmth builds and ruptures, and a noise filter clouds your ears, drifting off into space. “Seventh Circle” is thrashy with the singing burning, another easy chorus flowing, not having the spark it really needs. The soloing floods, though, the playing lathering, the drumming pounding away into the night. Closer “Shiva’s Wrath” is an epic instrumental, starting with acoustics and erhu, slowly opening into progressive lava. The guitars incinerate and show their strength, and then the path flows into dreamier terrain, eventually going dark. The bass bubbles as the guitars overtake, blending into gentler sounds and delicate table drumming that bleed into time.

Helms Deep continue to deepen their roots in classic heavy metal on “Chasing the Dragon,” a record that should fan the flames of anyone’s heart. While I think this would be sharper and more effective minus a couple of tracks, it’s a keeper nonetheless, something that can torch your mind and body repeatedly. For someone who remembers the era from which they draw, it’s like coming home. For anyone who arrived later on, it’s a sterling sharp lesson of where this genre came from and how it never will die.

For more on the band, go here: https://helmsdeep666.bandcamp.com/album/chasing-the-dragon

To buy the album, go here: https://namelessgraverecords.com/collections/nameless-grave-records-releases

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

We, as human beings, have not been kind to nature, and as we watch more and more governmental regimes peel away the precious land and resources, you can’t help but wonder how long it’ll be before the planet has had enough of us. We’re lucky to still have people fighting and returning to the natural world to send up praise and absorb every drop of it until their souls.

Olympia, Wash., black metal power Returning fall firmly into the latter, and on their great second record “Numinous,” they unload three epic journeys on a record that feels like your center point is reestablishing its ties to the earth. Comprised of Thuja and Heron, whose roles are not explicitly defined, they spend 46 minutes exploding with Cascadian power and also rootsy folk that colors the edges. You can feel every twist and turn, each dive into the valley and back, and it should light a fire in your belly if you’re like minded. Or perhaps it’ll help you find that spark. Finding a home on Bindrune Recordings, that platforms like-minded artists such as Panopticon, Blood of the Black Owl, Alda, Nechochwen and others, makes this a perfect alliance where the band has found welcome ground.

“Sacred Decay” opens immersed in atmosphere, the singing wafting as guitars drift, shrieks then knifing in as the pace combusts. A fury is whipped into a frenzy, howls calling, “Smoke rises skyward, a symbol of ruin,” as the ignition continues to get hotter. The playing settles into a percussive pocket, letting your blood flow, as the weight becomes oppressive and immersive at the same time. Gazey and soaring playing unite, and the call of, “Death will lead us to new life,” ripples down spines. “Ancestral Shadow Portal” is a quieter, more mid-paced piece that feels like a spiritual experience. Tribal-style drumming rouses as prayer-like passages wash over you, asking for guidance for new life that enters the earth. Wordless calls rattle as acoustics wash over and leave tremors, progressive playing jolts, and cymbals crash into our finale.

“Offerings to the Great Circle” runs 19:18, the longest of these three lengthy pieces, and it rushes in, howls already scarring, blistering before a wave of calm enters, and this push and pull is something we keep revisiting. The guitars blaze as clean singing bellows, rustic melodies flowing into the mix, melodies flooding as the playing growls, hulking and devastating, later melting into elegant power. “I am your forever,” calls into your psyche, and a massive deluge strikes, screams rip, and the guitars hit a volcanic high before washing into dreaminess. From there, sounds rise and fade, and it feels like you’re roused from a deep, cathartic dream, birds chirping to greet you into this updated consciousness.

Returning lure us into a deeper awareness of nature and spirituality on “Numinous,” and over the course of these three songs, it’s very easy to be drawn into the center of this effort. The band’s woodsy black metal and rustic folk flourishes are genuine and eschew the subgenre’s normal tropes for something more human, more compassionate. This is a record that arrives perfectly in time for the dawn of summer when spending time amid green grass and lush trees can reconnect us to a world humanity long has betrayed. 

For more on the band, go here: https://returning.earth/

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.bindrunerecordings.com/products/returning-numinous-lp-pre-order

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

It’s easy to think we’re slipping into a Orwellian nightmare no matter where on the globe you live. Living here in the United States, watching a tyrannical government run roughshod over its people is disgusting, and if this unraveling continues, generations from now, people could be living in a nightmare we only imagined in stories and movies.

Newly born gothic doom band Lights of Vimana have utopian societies in mind and the hopelessness and darkness that choke their centers on debut record “Neopolis.” The five tracks on this record, created by three artists spread across the world, captures the bleakness and dreary future of societies eroded to the ground by fascist governments. On this album, the band—vocalist Déhà (he of about 10 million bands), guitarist/bassist Jeremy Lewis (Mesmur), drummers/keyboardist Riccardo Conforti (Void of Silence)—sinks into elegant, yet morbidly dark doom, feeling like you’re swimming in ink. It lures you in and bathes your mind in grays and rain-splashed nights, wondering if you’ll ever escape reality.

“Nowhere” runs 14:10, buzzing in as synth beams, and Déhà’s rich singing sends a cooling vibe. The playing darkens as things gets gustier and bask in shadows, guitars opening and charring, the keys giving off an alien feel. Guitars heat up and flood as growls and singing intertwine, and then a gust of fog compromises your vision, the vortex pulling you into deeper hues. Melodies flow as a cosmic dusting hardens the surface, the guitars tingle, and then a last bit of crunch disappears into gothy air. “Endure” enters in a stormfront, proggy guitars cutting into electricity, singing and growling doing battle as dreamy immersion takes over. That sense of ease doesn’t last as the guitars hulk up, crushing as synth beams bathe you, lead lines lathering with added oxygen. The light and dark vocals again do battle as keys cascade, and everything crashes out. 

“Real” starts clean and eerie, the playing stomping through mud as deep, amber singing coats, and the temperatures suddenly turn frostier. The power bursts through the ice as lurching cosmic doom takes hold, guitars soar, and emotions run high. The singing feels ripped from Déhà’s heart as the foundation slowly crumbles, fades into blinding light, and flows toward the title track that is a fever-inducing, nighttime instrumental. Synth darts as the guitars send cool waves, plinking through an enveloping haze. It feels like moonlight illuminating your path as melodies bubble and sounds buzz into closer “Remember Me.” Regal synth pumps as the playing gets burlier, the signing taking to the sky before being upended by guttural growls. Guitars charge as sounds trumpet, electronic pulses sending signals to your brain, blowing open with a sooty crunch. The vocals push to the limits as the guitars dig their claws deeper, and a spirited rush spikes adrenaline before dissolving into the earth.

As we fall deeper into our own dystopian reality, music like what Lights of Vimana put on display with “Neopolis” might be called upon to soothe nerves as we watch horrors unfold. It’s a strange soundtrack to a reality no one really wanted, yet here we are, taking on that doom-encrusted reality full force. Yet the tiny specks of light that push through can give us some faith that the worst can be overcome, and we can somehow defeat the darkness.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.dusktone.org/categoria-prodotto/preorder/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.dusktone.it/

Bands that have been around for very long periods of time tend to go through their fair share of changes within their ranks. Iron Maiden and Judas Priest had to change singers, for fuck sake. Swedish doom legends Katatonia have been down that road before, but the departure of founding guitarist Anders Nyström was pretty concerning.

The arrival of the band’s new record “Nightmares as Extensions of the Waking State,” their 13^th full-length, brings intrigue based on how things will proceed without one of their leaders and if it’s for the good. Nyström wanted to revisit the band’s earlier years and heavier sound while co-founder and vocalist Jonas Renkse preferred staying the course with the more shadowy, gothic sound. Nyström split and now we have this 10-track effort, and the results are not as I hoped. It feels like maybe Nyström had a point as these tracks lack punch and kind of just float through the ether. It’s not a bad album per se, and the rest of the band—guitarists Nico Elgstrand and Sebastian Svalland (both newcomers), bassist Niklas Sandin, and drummer Daniel Moilanen—sounds fine. It just doesn’t grab you. It feels more like dark background music than something that’s going to shake you awake. It’s gloomy, and not the good kind, and it lacks a spark. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that way about a Katatonia album, even the weirder ones. It feels unchallenging.

“Thrice” opens and punches before instantly pulling back, going gothy with strong singing from Renske, which is hardly a surprise. Guitars gush as things get a little burlier, Renske calling, “Let go of the confining shackles,” which sounds like a pretty telling line. “The Liquid Eye” drips in, clouding over the verses before a really strong chorus strikes, guitars glistening, slipping between the clouds. The singing is smooth as things get a little punchier, retreating and just sort of ending. “Wind of No Change” has the bass winding and the guitars crunching, the chorus sweeping, Renske singing, “Here comes our elder kin, appearing where we lay in sin, and answer to your names, and sing praise hail Satan.” Cool keys numb as the ashes rise, moving off into dusk. “Lilac” has an electro feel that meanders through the fog. Guitars slink and trudge, the chorus cutting, feeling catchy enough. Orchestral synth bathes with light, the sounds flushing, deliberately dissolving into the dirt. “Temporal” trickles in, hanging in the air, the singing numbing before the chorus swells. Guitars stain, bringing on strong soloing before the fires turn back to dark, the vocals pulling you back in before the light drains from the room.

“Departure Trails” slinks in, cold and dreary, chills making your body ache. Synth glides as dark dreams are conjured, the verses feeling like a sleepwalk through the fog, going in and out of clouds dropping ice. “Warden” has guitars liquifying and glazing, continuing the temp drop that has built from the songs previous to this one. Soft vocals mark the verses as the chorus gets a bit crunchier, showing some life as newer colors kick in, creating a final rush.  “The Light Which I Bleed” begins with liquifying guitars, gently falling words like a light drizzle, the chorus picking up and adding a little muscle. Dramatic synth dives like daggers, gothy gasps pushing blackness through your veins, eventually disintegrating into the dark. “Efter Solen” is a ballad sung in Swedish, and it translates to “after the sun.” It’s quiet and hazy, probably the most different style of song on the record. Gentle elegance unfurls, beats echoing, sounds helicoptering, belting as murmurs ricochet. Closer “In the Event of” brings back some much-needed crunch, keys glazing as delicate singing smears your wounds. A dreamy haze thickens, guitars stinging, the singing gushing as the foundations crumble, choking out all light and vision.

“Nightmares as Extensions of the Waking State” isn’t a bad album by any means, once the colder fall days are here this will hit harder. Katatonia certainly picked their path with this record, which is not unexpected. The record just doesn’t stand out. After a few listens, I don’t really remember much about it. That’s really rare for a Katatonia record. It feels too slow and dreary, too samey, kind of uninspired. Sticking to your guns is admirable, but if you’re running out of ammo, retooling for a new run probably is a good idea.

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

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

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

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

Dreams are bizarre, a means for our brains to tell us stories and show strange imagery while we sleep. We don’t even remember more than a fraction of what we dream each night, but what we do sticks with us, like messages being sent from beyond that should get our attention. That time also can give us ideas and expand our thinking of what’s possible.

Gaahls WYRD, ever since its formation almost a decade ago, felt like one that didn’t seem to adhere to genre expectations, nor would it care to. Helmed by Kristian Espedal, known also as Gaahl, a longtime veteran of the black metal world who made an infamous mark with Gorgoroth, has directed this project through much different waters. The band’s second full-length “Braiding the Stories” lurches even further into murky terrain, still embracing black metal but also taking on stranger tributaries and solidifying their sound that feels filtered through dreams. The rest of the band—guitarist Ole Walaunet (Lust Kilman), bassist Andreas Salbu (Nekroman) and drummer Kevin Kvåle (Spektre)—surround Gaahl’s, uh, words and vocals with miasmal imagination, shadows that feel impenetrable, and some black metal flourishes that remind you their teeth remain dangerously sharp.  

“The Dream” is aptly titled as the opening intro cut is clean and trickling, Gaahl’s speaking bubbling underneath the surface, soothing and fading into the title track that opens adventurously. The music is energetic and flowing, speak-singing getting under the flesh, the playing luring and reflecting, Things turn colder as the guitars liquify, bending into a chilling eeriness that eventually bursts open with unexpected colors, the guitars lathering and soaring, giving off a hint of nostalgia. The singing numbs as the fires calm, guitars surfacing and blurring into “Voices in My Head,” another short one packed with fluid psychedelics, soft singing, disarming warbling, and strange synth zapping into the beyond. “Time and Timeless Timeline” is menacing, a black metal burst that feels like all the energy palmed into a fist. The singing strikes as the rhythmic qualities engage, rupturing and destroying. The playing mashes as deeper vocals blacken visions, the guitars slash with power, and a wild yelp puts an exclamation point at the end of this dark prowler. “And the Now” is murky and jangling, the singing prodding as the keys shimmer, wood blocks echoing, the playing gaining momentum. Keys strike as the guitars boil, chanting vocals haunt, and the drums taking on a tribal vibe, burning the essence in the dirt.

“Through the Veil” is another quick one, guitars lighting up the night sky, swimming as distant calls murmur under the surface, mixing its blood into “Visions and Time” that cuts in deeply, ominous chants sending chills up spines. The playing heats up and swirls, calming at times as the singing rises, sunburst guitars giving off a vintage afternoon feel. Gaahl’s singing goes deeper again, hypnotic sounds surrounding everything, bursting and encircling until it drags you to eternal darkness. “Root the Will” brings a steady riff assault, a boisterous attack, and the singing gliding as the momentum continues to build. The guitars glisten and then feel like lasers beaming from the distance, and then things turn slower and mesmerizing, vocals lurching as everything is driven into space. Closer “Flowing Starlight” is clean and hazy before sparks fly, the singing floods, and tricky, weird melodies cloud your brain. It feels like the body of this thing is going through an alien transformation, taking propulsive turns and even growing catchy in its own way. The playing continues to wash over as a synth clouds envelop, swallowing all points of light back into a deep dream state.

“Braiding the Stories” is another chapter from Gaahls WYRD that breaks the foundation of black metal and lets other influences and energies enter into its shattered tributaries to give it new life. It’s also easy to fall deeply into this immersive music that feels like parts of dreams your brain latches onto as you try to make sense of the visions. This is a record and band that’s impossible to label (even calling it black metal is a stretch) and one that perhaps is better off without those descriptors because it frees them and the listener to take a journey inside without and restrictions or inhibitions. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/band/gaahls-wyrd

Or here: https://shop.season-of-mist.com/list/gaahls-wyrd-braiding-the-stories

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