You know sometimes when you put on a record for the first time and are blown through the walls by what’s coming into your ears and brain? It doesn’t happen all that often to me anymore just because of the deluge of music I deal with on a daily basis, but when it occurs, it’s profound and powerful.

I had really been looking forward to taking on the self-titled debut record from Iowa grind unit Closet Witch ever since Halo of Flies started talking about its imminent arrival. I had known the band from their scorching “Cokburner” single, and they have a few other EPs to their credit, but this full platter was what I really wanted to hear. And holy shit if it isn’t a molten dose of cathartic anger, fire-breathing emotion, and outright heaviness that hit all the right buttons. Themes of anger, despair, equality, healthcare trauma, gender, race, and other burning issues make up much of the thematic material, making these songs even more galvanizing and bloody important both personally and socially. The band—vocalist Mollie Piatetsky, guitarist Alex Crist, bassist Cory Peak, and drummer Royce Kurth—destroys your body and soul on these 13 songs, splattering their own blood, grabbing attention by force, and unleashing venom that many of us have in our own bodies, only we don’t have the ability to spit it back like this group. It also should be noted this record is one of the final releases by Halo of Flies, long an important outlet for underground metal and hardcore bands who found a wider audience and the chance to release their music. They’ll be sorely missed. There also are a bazillion other labels releasing this globally, so stay tuned for the perversely long list of links at the end.

“Blood Orange” opens in a total frenzy with wrenching shrieks from Piatetsky, as the cut mangles the senses, leading into “Moonstomp” and its relentless power. This one is absolute speed and chaos, spilling right into “Eyelids of Horus” that keeps the machine rolling violently. Vicious shrieks and drubbing playing destroy, while the band bashes bones and burns out. “Brother” reeks of danger by someone peeking around corners and into windows, while the band goes on a mathy storm, sending blinding terror into your face. Piatetsky’s raspy shouts maul, as the track goes into grinding hell and rips right into anguish. “It Doesn’t Feel Free” spits in the face of the idea that people aren’t judged by minority, gender, and societal status, as shocking blasts tear through guts, and Piatetsky’s yells are drowned in a noise bath. “Rule By Bacon” has Piatetsky wailing, “How can a gender make one lesser, and you’ve already got your cabinets filled with money,” as she blasts against pay inequality, as atmosphere mixes into the assault, and slow, pained howls pay the emotional toll.

“Spell of Giddiness” is a 37-second outburst, with images of blood and spilling intestines, as feedback and corrosive shouts punch the guts. “Wind Whispers” has crazed shouts, killer riffs chewing the flesh, and an absolute attack of punishment before a shocking, abrupt end. “Your Grace” kills you in 32 seconds, and it has Piatetsky defying the odds against her, vowing to overcome and be a difference maker. “Daylilies” is fast and blistering, as it feels like the floor is caving in as the band delivers the heavy goods and refuses to give you a chance to breathe. “Personal Machu Pichu” is emotional and personal, with cries to allow for a life one longs for despite the troubles it may cause others, screaming, “Please don’t condemn me for existing how I need.” The drums mash fingers, as the pace bludgeons and draws blood, while the song delivers outright violence. “Great River Medical Center” is a 40-second fireball that has a punk feel and smashes without mercy, leading to the 5:32 closer “Lost and Unidentified” that starts fast and eventually embraces melody you don’t expect. The track slows for somber moments amid the fire, as Piatetsky’s pain bleeds from her pores, and the music becomes an emotional caterwaul. Noise wells up, a thick haze spreads, and the riffs combine to create a machine-like attack that opens some sores and cauterizes others.

You’re not physically or mentally prepared to tangle with Closet Witch, but certainly give it a shot by diving headfirst into their ferocious debut self-titled full-length. This dangerous, panic-induced grind fury assaults from second one and doesn’t let up once for the next 13 songs. The record is a wake-up call to watch your ass, and if you contribute to any of the numerous problems the band steamrolls on this record, maybe look the fuck out. You could be next.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.halooffliesrecords.com/label-releases/halo109-closet-witch-st-lp/

Or here: http://sassbologna.org/shop.htm

Or here: http://circusofthemacabre.blogspot.com/

Or here: https://dontcarerecords.bandcamp.com/

Or here: http://www.reactwithprotest.org/store.php

For more on the label, go here: http://www.halooffliesrecords.com/

And here: http://sassbologna.org/

And here: https://www.facebook.com/Circus-Of-The-Macabre-Records-253232234713762/

And here: http://dontcarerecords.com/

And here: http://www.reactwithprotest.org/

It’s hard to argue against the statement that there is a whole ton of shit going on with most heavy music. Metal isn’t really known for pulling back on the presentation. Instead, it’s typically full speed ahead, a total sensory assault that leaves your brain wiring fried and smoking, which usually is exactly what we want.

Yet, there is a special pocket in the doom sub-genre that lashes back against that idea. Groups such as Sunn 0))), Earth, Om, and Godspeed You! Black Emperor rely on making things happen in swollen spaces, leaning back and making the atmosphere come to you, often over as long a period of time as they deem relevant. Pittsburgh’s own The Long Hunt fall into that same line of thinking, and you get more of the good stuff on their excellent second full-length “All Paths Lead to Here,” the follow-up to last year’s debut “Wilderness Tales.” With this band, minimalism is the name of the game, and they do a fine job on these six songs carving paths down dusty roads, letting the sun burn your skin, and leading you into a transformative musical experience that puts some of the responsibility on the listener to commit to the journey. The three-headed beast—guitarist Trevor Richards, bassist Allison Kacmar Richards, and drummer Mark Lyons—lets you rise and fall with their dynamics, and these songs are perfect for contemplation, relaxation, or simply winding down after you’ve been put to the test all day.

“Ground of Being” starts us off with the guitars easing into the scene, the pace slowly burning, and a steely, desert-like sense to the music. The track feels Earth-ish as it rumbles, with the leads cutting in, the pace gaining momentum, and everything getting louder and more abrasive before cooling off and fading away. “Negative Teeth” crunches right away, landing quick jabs and mixing that with a dose of cool breeze from the guitars. The band digs into a swagger, as the track takes on sunburn with the leads scorching flesh. The band chills out a bit and eases into a sequence that feels like modern-era Rush (which is a good thing because they still rule) before heading into an echo chamber. The track crunches all over, with a fuzzy jam running to the end. “Closing the Circle” begins with drums bustling, the bass riveting, and us heading back into the desert with dry throats. Guitars head through and pull us into a driving rain before speed takes over and races to a psyched-out end.

Things remain dry and sandy as “The Winnowing Hand” picks up, gasping for air at the surface as the heat beats down. The track starts to chug and punch its way out, as the leads burn a path, and things continue to get heavier and more aggressive. Finally calm emerges, as things come floating back to earth. “Smoke Offering” starts with birds chirping, fire crackling, and hearth-style guitars bringing the picture into focus. The song is spacey and frosty, a cosmic trip into the unknown that takes us into a strange, blinding alien fire and psychedelic clouds. The guitars melt and flow into a tributary, spilling into the mouth of the sea. Closer “Cantiga 166 (Tower of Set)” (um, fuck yeah, “Conan the Barbarian” reference)  ends the record with a Middle Eastern spirit, as sitars spill into the mix and things get trancey in a hurry. The track blends into earthy synth, as the drama builds and hurtles toward the sun, ending things on a hypnotic note.

If you’re local to Pittsburgh, you can check out The Long Hunt on the second Descendants of Crom festival this September, if you don’t run into them sooner. It’ll be a meeting well worth your time, as these songs promise to expand the room in a live setting and give you a new understanding of their power. “All Paths Lead to Here” is a fine piece of work that unravels more with each listen, so by all means, go back and indulge.

For more on the band and to stream the album, go here: https://listentothelonghunt.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://thelonghunt.bandcamp.com/album/all-paths-lead-to-here

Welp, it’s been another month. May had a lot of good stuff. June has been insane as well. Anyway, here’s our Best of May mix, and if you like what you hear, please send some money their way. Spotify pays them like a baked bean per play, so fuck that. Give the bands what they deserve!

Photo by James Rexroad

This is a rare day around here, because we’re going to bask in positivity. With all of the vile and grotesque metal records we gleefully cover, combined with the cataclysmic state of the country and the world, it’s often a real downer in these parts. But not today, when we have so much to celebrate.

We almost never got a new YOB record, much less one as massive, cathartic, and healing as their eighth platter “Our Raw Heart.” Hell, we almost didn’t have Mike Scheidt, period. Likely most people know of his battle with diverticulitis and infections that nearly cost him his life last year, as it’s been a story widely told. The pain and near descent into the void would be enough to devastate most people for good, but not Scheidt, who often has stood as a beacon in a sea of murk with his messages that espouse love and inner strength and spirituality, along with ones that also navigate through darkness. The band and the man both survived, and taking on their new seven-track, 74-minute mammoth of an album is enough to fill one’s heart with goodness and happiness because one of metal’s finest institutions is alive, well, and rejuvenated. Along with bassist Aaron Rieseberg and drummer Travis Foster, guitarist/vocalist Scheidt crafted these new epics and added more grit, heart, and emotion than ever before, and while it’s quite the demanding listen, it’s one that’ll call you back over and over to hear the messages and continue to walk its path until you gain greater understanding.

“Ablaze” is the 10:28 opener, and right away you can feel the emotion that permeates this entire record. Scheidt’s raspy singing comes in pretty shortly, feeling different and evolved, though later some growls bleed in. Later, the pace ruptures and sludges, as Scheidt’s growls rumble, and even after a brief period of calm, the music explodes again, ending in a heartfelt pyre. “The Screen” couldn’t be more different, as it’s one of the gnarliest, grimiest songs in their catalog. The guitars chew at muscle, with riffs that send gut punches, and Scheidt’s singing is blunt and coarse, wailing, “Ancestral rusted blade, broken hilt, deep thrust,” as it he’s experiencing that pain as he sings, which isn’t far off. The thick bass slithers like a black snake, while the band grinds away, with Scheidt demanding, “Rise! In this moment!” The track ends machine-like, with the guitars feeling like massive, oppressive gears. “In Reverie” begins quietly before ripping open and releasing summer heat. The track is slow driving and bludgeoning, with riffs burning, the singing smearing filth, and everything coming to a smothering conclusion.

“Lungs Reach” is the shortest cut at 5:39, and its eerie noise stretches and infects before the song tears open and reveals its monstrous side, eventually dissolving into a mud pit. “Beauty in Falling Leaves” is the longest track, weighing in at 16:49, and it’s the indisputable core of the record. It’s a wrenching doom ballad that ultimately has a positive, life-affirming theme, as the music slowly unfurls but builds into the crescendo of a chorus, where Scheidt belts, “Been this way throughout my life, your heart brings me home.” That sentiment keeps repeating, and every time it does, you can feel the blood rushing from the band’s collective heart, as they snake their way throughout this song. Later, the tempo switches, as they pour new colors into the mix, but they always return to the meat of the song, getting spacey and psychedelic before the track melts away. “Original Face” is the most traditionally YOB-like song on the entire record, with molten riffs, gruff vocals, and a heavy sentiment compounded by harsh shrieks. “There is nothing else, this is all there is,” Scheidt insists, as the punishing pace pushes on, the soloing scorches, and things come to a hellishly mauling finish. The title cut ends the album, a 14:41 epic that battles “Falling Leaves” for the emotional center point and does a hell of a job capturing your soul. The start is trippy and makes you see vibrant colors, and from there, the song takes you on a long journey that, weirdly, doesn’t feel like it lasts half as long as it does. There is emotional space, cosmic hurtling, and Scheidt calling, “Beckoning my restless ghost, leaving, nothing left behind.” The song feels like a total triumph, a statement from a band that started death in the face, survived, and lived to spread their positivity on an entirely new level.

YOB’s mission always has included a great dose of survival instinct, and that is partially what helped “Our Raw Heart” see the light of day to start with. It’s great to have Scheidt on the mend, sounding as vibrant and husky as ever, and the rest of the band pounding away like only they can. We can’t feel miserable all the time. This is a record that should put a smile on your face, light embers within your soul, and hammer home the point that even while we’re immersed in negativity elsewhere, it’s OK to stop and feel good every now and again.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://relapse.com/yob-our-raw-heart/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.relapse.com

Stargazing at night is not something I do all the time. Weirdly, I always make a point to look into the stars every Wednesday evening, a long tradition about which I won’t bore you with details, but it’s always the time I try to reconnect with the universe and continue to wonder what lies beyond our realm. What stories are out there we’ll never know?

“Continuum,” the second record from long-running English instrumental band Sons of Alpha Centauri, made me think a lot more about the universe during the time I’ve spent with these eight songs. This effort, their first full-length since their 2007 self-titled debut, pulls back from the stoner rock vibes much of the other music centers on (they do claims bands such as Yawning Man and Karma to Burn as close allies) as expands further into the beyond. The music they create is fascinating and can open your mind to dreaming and wondering. It’s not always the heaviest thing on earth, which it doesn’t need to be, but the music definitely packs some gritty punches while they’re taking you on a mental and spiritual journey. The band—guitarist Marlon King, bassist Nick Hannon, drummer Stevie B., and noise/texture guru Blake—worked with former ISIS/current Palms member Aaron Harris on these tracks, and I’m not sure if it’s his influence, but the music should find favor among those who choose to dine on the flesh of post-rock and post-metal. Think something between Pelican and Clouds Taste Satanic, and any newcomer will have a pretty good idea what’s in store.

“Into the Abyss” starts the record on a spacey, strange note, as the music slowly opens and begins to spill into the atmosphere, leading to “Jupiter” that gets punchy right off the bat. Synth becomes a murky cloud, while gentle guitars liquify and stream through your consciousness, feeling almost like a Rush song. The track gets jazzy leading to charging riffs, grime, and a blistering end. “Solar Storm” is both buzzing and catchy, as the guitars drive hard, and the synth swallows you in its mysterious pocket. There even are elements of dripping deathrock here, with leads soaring out of that, and the tempo getting faster, barreling to a bruising finish. “Io” is based in fog and swampiness, with moody guitars striking out to the cosmos, and the melodies feeling like early morning, as you stamp the dew and gaze at the outline of the fading moon. The riffs tougher up later, jolting you out of your comfort.

“Surfacing for Air” is built on ’80s synth, guitars trickling like runoff from a drizzle, and everything heading toward the drain. “Interstellar” has intergalactic keys zapping and cold guitars sending a chill, before we head into serenity for a quick breather. New riffs climb out of the ground, with the band hitting the gas pedal before things slow down, and then we head into a hypnotic outro. “Orbiting Jupiter” has pianos dripping and the drama sweeping, feeling like the entrance to the record’s big crescendo, the 10:52 closer “Return Voyage.” The beginning is a reflective pool, with keys again emerging from space, and guitars swimming before getting jagged. The pace chugs ahead for a bit before serenity sets back in, as eerie synth blankets the area, and an infusion of atmosphere brings a charge. Finally, the tempo returns to its more aggressive patterns, with the leads churning, smoke rising, and the song bleeding out in an alien haze.

I could use more time remembering the incredible blackness in which we’re all enveloped, and a record such as “Continuum” might be the right avenue to get there. Sons of Alpha Centauri have packed a lot of music into their run, despite only two full-lengths, and it’s fun to hear them adding new influences and textures to what they do. This is an ideal album for a late evening outside, chair titled toward the stars, while you imagine what you might find if you got to explore the great beyond.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://sonsofalphacentauri.bandcamp.com/album/continuum

Several weeks ago, we talked about Danish death metal squadron Taphos, who had two of their demo recordings reissued by Blood Harvest in anticipation of a full-length debut record that was promised to follow. It really didn’t take long for that full platter to arrive, and now we have the answer to what the band could do with a complete recording.

It only took an initial visit with “Come Ethereal Somberness” to answer those questions, and the reaction was absolutely bloody positive. Every visit since has gotten even more immersive. The nine-track, nearly 36-minute record is destructive and absolutely pays off the promise they showed on their earlier work. The record is ideally served with no bloat and only razor-sharp playing and riffs that kill. The band— vocalist/bassist H, guitarists M and D, and drummer U—thrives in their death metal setting, proving to be, like Tomb Mold who we discussed yesterday, a filthy beacon in this sub-genre’s often littered terrain, where so many just think being brutal will get you by. Not so. It takes substance and power unlike most to truly make a mark, and Taphos are doing just that with this blood-curdling record that you should make it a point to hear.

“Letum” is a quick instrumental bookend that starts the record, as a monstrous haze builds, and hellish winds collect, pushing into “Impending Peril” that lights things on fire and prevents its extinguishment. The leads burn, while the growls spew acid, and it’s total demolition from there. The guitar work kicks up mud, as the punishment is fully meted out, and everything ends with eerie voices speaking and the guitars scraping away. “Thrive in Upheaval” is savage and relentless, with animalistic growls and fire-breathing guitars. The bass weaves in and out of traffic, the soloing scorches, and everything comes to a vicious end. “Ocular Blackness” has guitars swirling before we head into grinding madness. The growls are gnarly, while the guitars send blinding flashes, all the while the disorienting pace makes it necessary to clutch the wall to break your fall.

“A Manifest of Trepidation” trudges in the blood and muck, leaving sticky boot prints, and then growls pierce the surface as the song is blown to bits. Guitars hang in the air while the tempo changes violently, as speed and ridiculous bends take you for a sickening ride. The bass recoils, the guitars deliver jolts, and everything bleeds into the dirt. “Dysfori” is an instrumental piece that lets you catch your breath but leaves you haunted. Whispers work their way into the mix, while hazy acoustics give off a classic metal feel, heading right into “Insidious Gyres.” There, a molten assault and belched growls turn your stomach, while the guitars twist and tumble, with the soloing going off the rails. The track is hypnotizing and fast, with the bass swinging for your face, the soloing feeling like a thick insect swarm, with everything soaring right into the sun. “Livores” crushes teeth with a grimy, heavy attack, as the leads stretch and leave a burnt stench behind, and the drums flatten rock and bones. The song spends most of its time eroding your flesh, but then things cool off, and the final seconds leave you numb and disoriented. The back end of the instrumental bookend “Obitum” closes the journey with thick noise, squeaking acoustics, dreamy echoes, and the drums boring into your brain.

Now that we know Taphos are the real deal and not just a band with killer demos, we can spread the word about their infamy and violent undertakings that we meet on “Come Ethereal Somberness.” The band still is operating somewhat in a shroud of mystery, and there are plenty more eyes and ears to open as they go forward. But they have the goods, they prove their death meddle, and they’ll be expected to be one of the unquestioned leaders shaping this sound moving into the future.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://shop.bloodharvest.se/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.bloodharvest.se/

Photo by Joey Arredondo

We’re still a good two months away from Migration Fest here in Pittsburgh, but it’s certainly not too early to start getting amped up about some of the bands playing that weekend. There’s not a single band you can afford to miss, and another that’s viciously climbing their way up my most anticipated list is Toronto-based death crew Tomb Mold.

I was pretty excited to see them for starters, but that’s been amplified to hell with the release of their vile second record “Manor of Infinite Forms,” a seven-cut, nearly 41-minute bruiser that takes what they did on their Blood Harvest-issued debut “Primordial Malignity” and makes it even fucking uglier. One huge boost in the band’s power is the addition of two members joining the original duo of drummer/vocalist Max Klebanoff and guitarist Derrick Vela, that being guitarist Payson Power and bassist Steve Musgrave. It gives the group a mightier, heftier assault, one that’s dripped all over this record and practically makes it stick to the ground with all the blood and puss that have congealed in the unforgiving sunlight. This band has to be in the conversation when it comes to who the best newer creators in death metal are, and their destructive ways are apparent and impossible to dodge when taking on this monstrous album.

The title track starts off the record, with morbidity at every corner, and the growls smearing soot everywhere. The riffs are just killer, as Klebanoff’s drumming decimates the earth, and more cavernous growls and sinister punishment tops us off. “Blood Mirror” has tricky playing to start, leaving you dizzy, while gross growls and an infernal fury combine to make life miserable. The leads burn a path, and then we’re back to skullduggery, as the growls gurgle blood, the band hammers away, and the soloing tears a hole in your brain. “Abysswalker” has speedy riffs and deep, lurching growls, while the band finds a new gear in which to sicken you. The guitars rain down gloriously, while the band hits the mud pit, stinging and landing blows, robbing you of your conscious state.

“Final Struggle of Selves” trudges and blisters, with the band thrashing away, and the ugliness being served in different forms. The pace changes suddenly, with the death spell boiling and brewing toxins, while the engorged growls bludgeon and send shit toward the void. Things spiral into hell from there. “Gored Embrace (Confronting Biodegradation)” is a mauler, as it lays waste to whatever’s in front of it, and the growls become more evil and furious all at once. The playing aims to damage the psyche, while you’re deposited into a pit of total devastation, while growls spew forth that are caked inches deep in muck. “Chamber of Sacred Ootheca” is disgusting from its title, and it doesn’t get any more appetizing from there, as the band lets filth well up and the guitars splatter plasma. The guitar work is awesome here, leaving a trail of slime behind it, while the pace suffocates, and the growls bury you face first in larvae. Closer “Two Worlds Become One” starts acoustically, which isn’t expected, but then the scab is ripped away, and the growls start to chew muscle. The drums send chaos, and the band finds a slow-driving pace to spread their misery. The song suffocates later, with the band chugging, a doomy haze settling over, and the band setting everything it created on fire.

Tomb Mold already had a stellar reputation before heading into their 20 Buck Spin debut “Manor of Infinite Forms,” and this record only magnifies their strengths and hardens their vicious assault. If you consider yourself any type of connoisseur when it comes to death metal, a trip with Tomb Mold is an absolute must. This is a band that already is shedding ample amounts of blood, and really, they’re just getting started.

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

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

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

There are parts of the Earth that are a sooty, lava-spilled mess, where it looks like things are moments away from coming to an end, and people are in harm’s way. That’s just parts of Hawaii right now. But imagine if that chaos spread over the entire world, choking us out and threatening life as we know it.

I would be a broken record if I went on about the state of the world and how things are teetering on total destruction, as it’s a common theme. But while only a small section of the planet is drowning under molten rock, it’s not hard to imagine a scenario where everything in existence is ablaze. Oakland-based doom/death crushers Abstracter imagine that final remnants of life, with final survivors clinging to hell, on their devastating third record “Cinerous Incarnate.” Not only does the band tell a blazing tale on this six-track, 43-minute record, but they also deliver suffocating punishment with their noise-infected, bloody sound. This is their first record since 2015’s “Wound Empire,” and it comes after a tumultuous period here in the United States and in the rest of the world when it feels like shit is about to be swallowed by Kilauea and driven into the cavernous hell from where this all came. It’s a painful, overwhelmingly devastating record from these guys—vocalist Mattia Alagna (Atrament), guitarist Robin Kahn, bassist James Meyer (Atrament, Vale), and drummer Adam Gambel—have crafted, and it’ll feel like you’re locked in for the fight of your life, one you cannot win. Also, Sutex Hexen sound master Kevin Gan Yuen adds noise elements all over the record, as well as with the apocalyptic artwork)

“Nether” is the 9:46 opener that has a cloud of noise building and bludgeoning riffs cutting through that. Alagna’s growls pummel, while the riffs get sludgy and ugly, and the pace feels like it’s kicking up mud. Snarly growls and a sweltering atmosphere carry the torch, while the oppressive heat rises before the song eases back to let eerie darkness drip into scene. From there, the intensity is ramped back up, while the band lands some added blows, and a noise sizzle eats everything away. “Cinerous” in one of a couple of noise-laced ambient tracks offered up by Only Now, and this piece leads toward “Asher Reign” that starts with blistering fury and terrifying hisses. Slow-driving devastation takes its time grinding your mouth in the dirt, while the track feels like it lurches in hell, with the drums coming alive and drawing blood, and a thick haze settling over everything. Massive feedback shreds the senses, while Alagna’s growls mar any sense of calm, the band begins to batter your bones again, and they apply a boot to your throat as the song bleeds away.

“Wings of Annihilation” has a reflective start, throwing you a weird curveball, before Alagna’s growls begin to bubble, and the track unfolds its heavy wings in calculated manner. The guitars have a dark swagger to them, reeking of sinister intent, while the growls send fire and cinders, and the temperature rises dangerously. From there, the gas pedal is rammed through the floor, with the drums pounding away, the band speeding up dangerously, and the track coming to a bloody end. “Incarnate” is the second ambient track, and it feels like it emanates from an alien soundscape, with its strange feel that can’t be a product of this world. The record culminates with “Devouring Night” that sends heavy chills down your spine to start before the hellish storm is whipped into a frenzy. Throaty growls unleash havoc, while the pace keeps gaining ground and chewing away, and later the song starts a heavy slither. The band takes its time delivering shots, almost like they’re lulling you to sleep, but before you know it, the lava erupts again. The band sends the song into a torturous pace, squeezing away and promising destruction before it’s devoured by a death cloud of sound.

Abstracter’s vision of the end is terrifying and suffocating, and the journey they take you on with “Cinerous Incarnate” will make it feel like your flesh is scorched, falling off your body. This is a trip into madness, yet it’s a state that could become reality before we know it. One day the world will expire and burst into flames, and this record is the soundtrack to that very event.

For more on the band, go here: http://abstracterband.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://vendettarecords.wordpress.com/shop-webstore/

Or here: http://sentientruin.com/releases/abstracter-cinereous-incarnate

Or here: http://i-voidhanger.com/shop/

Or here: http://tartarusrecords.tictail.com/

Or here: http://www.daymarerecordings.com/top.htm

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

And here: http://sentientruin.com/

And here: http://i-voidhanger.com/

And here: http://tartarusrecords.com/

And here: http://www.daymarerecordings.com/

We make so many references to Apocalypse on this site, it almost feels like it has become a creative crutch. With the current political climate especially here in the U.S. but also around the world, it feels like it could be any minute before we’re counting our days until the end of time.

A lot of this has to do with the music we cover and the absolute darkness that permeates so much of it. That same thing can be said for Canadian black metal band Wilt and their tremendous second record “Ruin.” The album is a concept piece about the frailty of mankind and is inspired by Cormac McCarthy’s 2006 novel The Road about a father and son trying to make their way and survive after a global Armageddon-style event. At the same time, the band also is reflecting on the loss of a close friend during the recording process, and the music and words are racked with pain, loss, anxiety, and guilt. It’s not a smooth, easy listen as a result, and if some of this hits home for you like it did for me, you also might find yourself examining your mental makeup and some of the things that have caused life-long scars. The band—vocalist Jordan Dorge, guitarists Brett Goodchild and Jay Edwards, bassist Craig Peeples, and drummer Myke Lewis—have conjured something more immersive and much darker than what they revealed on their impressive 2015 debut “Moving Monoliths,” and this collection will push your concept of what it means to be a human being.

“Into the Unknown” starts the journey as the main character heads off into mystery, with no idea what lies ahead. The track starts slowly, with melody slowly bleeding in, and as creaked growls join the mix, the melody bursts. Wrenching howls and sweeping playing catches you up in the pit of emotion, while the final moments are dark, bleak, and a hint of what lies ahead. “We Read the World Wrong” is tumultuous from the start, pounding down with anger and scorn, with Dorge crying, “You’ll see what could have been, what should have been!” The track is both melodic and abrasive as hell, with gazey riffs raining down and capturing your senses, and everything flooding and rushing toward you without mercy. “Strings of a Lingering Heart” has drums pummeling, as Dorge unleashes hell, screaming, “I wish I could escape this!” Guitars continue to add pressure but also loop colors into the shadows, adding new hues to the deep sadness. “All is lost,” Dorge declares, as the sound pounds its way into the ground.

“Summons Has Come” is the longest track at 10:12, and it unleashes a gazey surge at the start, which eventually lets a deluge of guitars cascade and saturate the ground. The track churns and creates smoke, with the guitars smashing holes and letting in rays of light. Later, the song speeds up dangerously, with Dorge basically shredding his throat, howling, “I leave this world behind,” amid a storm of madness. “Veil of Gold” is one of the gnarliest songs here, and the pain and self-loathing is evident. The track feels doomy and heavy, with Dorge declaring, “I am the forgotten.” There’s a slower pace for a while, as the tumult builds, and Dorge unleashes one of his most telling lines of the story when he lashes, “I am a waste of flesh, bury me!” The track continues to descend into darkness from there, as the track bleeds away scornfully. Finale “Requiem” is a shorter, instrumental curtain closer, with solemn guitars buzzing, melody flowing, and the guitars developing atmosphere, with the track dissolving and disappearing.

Wilt have created a devastating, sobering piece with “Ruin,” as this six-track, 44-minute album brings heaviness both in the music and in the painful story it tells. Even if the world isn’t ending, there are people who face personal, seemingly life-ending crises every day, a there is a lot for them to cull from this record. We are fragile, vulnerable, and sometimes it takes a painful tribulation to remind us.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://vendettarecords.bigcartel.com/

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

I just got done reading a bunch of tweets from people who apparently live in an alternate version of the world where the events of the past two years, especially politically, never happened, and where everything is just fine. It makes me want to run my face into an industrial-sized blender but also just revel in the dreamworld these people are seeing.

This is why I, and the rest of the normal world, need death metal. Sometimes it’s the only thing that makes any sense. Right now, the band bringing that sense of violent normalcy is Ritual Necromancy, a band that likely never had their music described in that manner. Sorry about that. Part of the reason their music is what’s helping me cope is that they’re next up on the review schedule, and I’ve been listening to a ton of their hellish second record “Disinterred Horror.” The other is their music always hits that spot that desires ugly, blood-curdling madness that these guys dish out in buffet-sized portions. We haven’t gotten a full-length from the band since 2011’s “Oath of the Abyss,” so a complete beating from this group—bassist/vocalist JF, guitarists AW and JR, and drummer KS—is long overdue. Here, we get five monstrous tracks packed into an economically served 37:37 that reek of terror and pure death metal punishment. It’s heavy, it’s unforgiving, and it’s even a little bit weird at times, which makes this thing a blast to take on in full.

“To Raise the Writhing Shadows” is our beefy 7:07 opener, and it starts with doom bells chiming and a garbled backward message instilling a sense of evil. Lunching growls erupt, while the slow-paced death assault is on, pouring blood into the machine and bringing it to a grinding halt. Mucky violence and massive punishment unite, while the senses are just obliterated. The pace then speeds up, as the growls envelop, and the track comes to a smothering end. “Command the Sigil” is fast and gross right away, while the mucky growls revel in filth, and the leads catch fire and scorch the flesh. Utter chaos arrives, sending everything into a frenzy, while the final moments are dizzying and bruising.

“Discarnate Machination” has guitars marring, while the growls tears holes in the flesh. The pace trudges and brings deliberate heaviness, while the drumming decimates, and the growls are cavernous and haunting. The sinewy fury later spills into doom-heavy fire, killing everything in its path. “Cymbellum Eosphorous” runs 11 minutes and fades in like a slowly developing nightmare. The guitars swirls and smear, while hellish vocals lead into a sequence that utterly jackhammers. Pained moans and sweltering playing unite, with the guitar work turns jagged and the pace hulking. The mud just gets thicker from there, crushing to the very end. The title track ends the record with thrashy fury, the growls boiling, and the riffs swaggering and chewing. A doomy haze drops and puts you in a fog, while the track erupts again and tears away at the flesh. The guitars catch fire again and even glimmer for a stretch, while the final minutes cut you down, grind your face in the dirt, and deliver a final death blow.

Ritual Necromancy’s music might not be the cure to everyone’s day-to-day cataclysmic frustrations, but fuck if “Disinterred Horror” didn’t come along at the precise right time for me. This record is monstrous and will destroy your world if you’re not ready for its violence. Or, it’ll make all the dumb shits in the world seem like the harmless joke they are as these guys burn out the wiring in your own brain.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/Ritual-Necromancy-109890659103818/

To buy the album, go here: http://www.darkdescentrecords.com/store

For more on the label, go here: http://www.darkdescentrecords.com/