You’re swimming in a murk, unaware of your surroundings but not panicked or frightened. Instead, you’re calm and curious, as you make your way through inky waters and later into the mouth of a forest. This is an adventure, and there may be danger. But you keep on. You have to know what’s next.

That’s the feeling I get when immersing myself in “The Forests Are Old With Grief,” the first recording from World Untouched By Mankind, the ambient dungeon synth project helmed by sole member Night, also of equally strange black metal band Procer Veneficus. The music bleeds into your consciousness while absorbing these five tracks that actually were recorded a decade ago but only now were right to release into the world after they were remastered. Some of the time, these songs also feel like the dew-soaked bed of grass in which you awake after this trip you take, which can be physical or mental. Coming back to your proper surroundings may feel strange as you wonder where you’re been and how the experience will shape you going forward.

The title track starts the journey with eerie, strange synth, as sounds bubble to the surface, and we enter into a foggy fantasy world. “Beneath the Great Oak” is the longest cut at 9:05, and instantly things work their way even deeper into the mist, as melodies swirl and enrapture, and a weird coldness spreads over your body like the amalgamation of spirits. The track turns both woodsy and cosmic, feeling like a soundtrack to a dusty old B sci-fi or horror film, as its grip slowly releases you.

“The Earth Shall Be My Grave” has deep, chiming keys starting off, with laser lines cutting through, and the tempo plodding gently and spookily. The synth has an orchestral feel as it builds, with keys plinking like freezing rain, and the song fading out into mystery. “Cold Caverns of Time” has psyche melodies boiling, as organs swell in a pastoral manner, sending chills down your spine. You head will be floating in a medicine dream, while the pace swelters, and the thing spills into a haunting grave. Closer “Those Who Watched As the World Fell Silent” has passages that feel like they’ve stretched through the entire record and only revealed themselves now. A space haze arrives, as we swirl through a dreams scape, and sounds that remind of an airplane engine add a droning paralysis. The back end of the song feels like it plods through time, with the strangeness building and quietly fading away.

World Untouched By Mankind is a project that isn’t going to move everyone, but those who connect with “The Forests Are Old With Grief” are likely to digest the adventure we mentioned in the opening. You don’t have to travel in your mind to appreciate what’s going on here, but it sure enhances the record. Not sure what future this project has, if any, but this record is here right now to add a layer of experiential wonder unavailable on any body of music elsewhere in the world.

For more on the band and to buy the album, go here: https://pacificthrenodies.bandcamp.com/album/the-forests-are-old-with-grief

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

Photo by Alvino Salcedo

There’s a richness in the music that comes from the Western parts of the United States. The real stuff, not the music that’s been captured and defaced by pop culture and what passes as the bulk of modern country music. Those who get it right cut right to the heart with art that feels like it should be splashed with dusk colors, strange noir, and a spiritual richness.

Denver-based black metal band Wayfarer bask in the very hues of their homeland and blend that into their sound. On their third record “World’s Blood,” their first for Profound Lore after having their first two issued by Prosthetic, the band even expands beyond their original sounds and push into sludge and atmospheric doom, albeit in small doses. The band—bassist/vocalist Jamie Hansen, guitarists Shane McCarthy and Joey Truscelli, and drummer Isaac Faulk—digs deep into their Denver roots and the suddenly bustling metallic pools that have gathered in that area, and they also pay homage to those whose footsteps once marked their corner of the earth, only to be forgotten by so many. The music here flows like tributaries of oranges and purples poured down darkened mountainsides, and their destructive strikes and that rage out of shadowy sections give the music a light/dark feeling that cuts to the core and splashes you with a gamut of emotions. It feels like a burnt portrait of the West.

“Animal Crown” kicks off the record with guitars echoing off in the distance before things stomp to life. Hansen’s hauled vocals combined with strong riffs push the thing forward, while the weight of the song causes pressure cracks. Later we hit a breezy calm, but that’s temporary with the assault that follows. The track rolls in atmosphere, with blood-curdling shrieks punching in before the cut’s abrupt end. “On Horseback They Carried Thunder” is the longest track, clocking in at 13:12. Initial serenity builds into gazey clouds that mar vision, and then that bursts into a full storm. A post-metal approach beckons, with growls rushing and your ribcage threatening to rupture. The guitars lead through the dust, as the track gets richer and moodier, and the drums rupture blood vessels. Later, the song goes cold and clean, washing the dirt away, before the assault begins anew. Shrieks and growls mix and maul, with the band hammering the rest of the way home.

“The Crows Ahead Cry War” pokes open and rambles through the mud and slowly increases the pace before we’re full blown into a vicious power surge. The tumult is mixed with some calm, chilling passages, and before long, the track explodes, and riffs are firing madly. The pace shakes the earth, as Hansen shrieks viciously before the song gets spacey and atmospheric, slowly fading out. “The Dreaming Plane” has a murky start, as inky strangeness passes into the water. The guitars sting and rupture, with the band heading a bit into sludgier terrain, and the vocals leaving a path of devastation. The band eases back into tranquility, letting the fog coverage arrive, and the song trickle gently. As expected, the explosion strikes, with the melodies leaving you disoriented, and the track heading out on an icy note. Closer “A Nation of Immigrants” is a mostly rustic acoustic number with clean singing buried under the surface, and a sense of homage being paid to those who first honed the land. Female singing can be heard under the din, while guitars moan, a dusty spirit rides, and the track dissolves into the earth.

Wayfarer have been putting their own touch on American black metal for the past seven years now, and they burst even further out of the crust and make their sound even more gigantic on “World’s Blood.” It’s easy to feel like you’re walking into the heart of a dust storm or the clutches of early evening as the sun sets during this record, and being able to slip into those moods makes this music even deeper. This isn’t black metal that dines on blood and guts; it’s an expression of their portion of America and the ghosts that helped etch history.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://profoundlorerecords.merchtable.com/

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

Photo by Ester Segarra

It’s great to be able to look at modern times and know that humankind no longer freaks out over things they don’t understand or people who are different from them, and we definitely don’t try to hurt or strip power from those people. Nope, not us. We’ve come a long way the past few centuries, and we’d never think to persecute someone with whom we don’t share the same way of life.

Obviously, that’s fucking bullshit, and in many ways, we’re no better than we were when we were burning and destroying so-called witches. The members of UK-based doom warrior Witchsorrow haven’t forgotten about it over the course of their four full-length records, the latest being the massive “Hexenhammer.” That term comes from another name given to Henricis Institoris’ infamous Malleus Maleficarum, which translated means “hammer of the witch.” That text essentially spelled out the means of torture and extermination of witches, yet another winning moment for Catholic faith. This has been a subject visited before by this band—guitarist/vocalist Necroskull, bassist Emily Witch, and drummer Wilbrahammer—and it leads to seven meaty tracks delivered in the faithful vein of Black Sabbath, Saint Vitus, and Electric Wizard. In addition, Necroskull pours into this record his frustration over the world still not having ended, so you can imagine the fury is blood thick.

“Maleficus” starts the record, a slow-driving instrumental that bubbles over and bleeds right into the ominous title track, which unloads Sabbathy riffs and blistering doom, as one might expect. “It’s heresy, the work of god,” Necroskull wails, while soloing bleeds over, and wild shouts erupt. The band starts bludgeoning at a glacial pace, with the leads melting and leaving a trail of liquid metal. “The Devil’s Throne” is fast and punchy, with Necroskull shouting, “Fall to your knees, the tyrant is here!” The track is thick and fiery, with the soloing blinding as it takes off, the band later chugging so hard your chest is nearly crushed, and everything coming to a smothering end. “Demons of the Mind” mangles in drone, driving slowly through heavy riffs, and Necroskull even unleashes some melodic singing. The soloing scorches the flesh, while the room turns humid, and the heat spreads out from there. The band begins to pound savagely, with coarse yells, and the whole thing spiraling into hell.

“Eternal” is menacing as hell, with Necroskull wailing about “staring into the void again.” The track has a bit of a different approach to it, making for a change of pace, as the verses are catchy, and the pace thrashes. “Spit into the face of fear!” Necroskull howls, while the song speeds up again, cutting through and sludging out. “The Parish” packs sinewy riffs and an evil, bluesy haze that washes over the song. The track gets violent and muddy, with the guitars burning and smoking, and the vocals punishing your senses. The back-end slips into a psychedelic fog before it fades away. Closer “Like Sisyphus” boils at first, slowly building its doomy fires. Necroskull’s shouts remind of Tom G. Warrior’s, with the tempo smashing, and the soloing sparking flames. The track then lights up and sends rocks flying, as every element goes off, and the band mauls you senselessly as the assault bleeds away.

“Hexenhammer” is molten, violent, and punishing, and it’s one of the strongest pieces in Witchsorrow’s history. The band still is a little underappreciated, at least it seems to me, which is a shame since they always deliver the goods. This band realizes our failures to stop criminalizing that which we don’t understand, and unless Armageddon finally answers the band’s whims, they’re sure to be back to rub our faces in our failures once again.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://spinefarm.merchnow.com/

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

Often, I have to look at the calendar to check out what four digits are showing that indicate year based on stuff I see on the news and consume over social media. I can’t believe we still are fighting for basic freedoms for so many people, and I say this as a white cis male who doesn’t have shit to worry about. I don’t understand how some people don’t just lose their minds on the regular.

The fact that women still have to struggle for basic needs and rights is fucking insane to me. The fact we’re still trying to litigate what rights women have and don’t have is nuts, and if men were put in the same position, they’d be doing all they can to ensure they don’t have to struggle. What? That already happens? Oh. By the way, if left politics give you the liquid stool, good. Also, you might want to tune out today. Deathmetal.org prob got some cool shit for you. Anyhow, these issues aren’t limited to America, as Bristol, England-based pounders Svalbard also are fighting the good fight, and their excellent second record “It’s Hard to Have Hope” is both aptly named as well as a punch in the face for anyone who wants to hold women at arm’s length. The band—guitarist/vocalist/lyricist Serena Cherry, guitarist/vocalist Liam Phelan, bassist Adam Parrish, drummer Mark Lilley—is blunt and aggressive with their views, and good for them because fuck passiveness and kindness when it comes to defending basic freedoms. Not only is this record a political and societal firebreather, it’s also a smothering musical display that’s super catchy and ultra-vitriolic.

“Unpaid Intern” gets things off to a volcanic start, as the track grinds with a hardcore-style assault, Cherry’s vocals are fiery as hell, and melody rains down. The vocals wrench while the song is fast and relentless, coming to a crushing end. “Revenge Porn” fights for women’s sexuality and against the aggression they face from people they had the audacity to not want to pursue a relationship with or fuck. “They assume it’s your fault for being a slut,” Cherry bristles, “But it’s not!” while the melodies gush from there, and the band storms hard. “Where is protection for women?” she demands, amid a storm of burning shrapnel. “Feminazi?!” blasts back against one of the most cowardly terms ever invented by a person whose name never will be printed on this site. Barked growls and a walls of power act as a shield against women who have the guts to speak up for themselves, only to be shouted down, and the track is utterly righteous in its rage. “Pro-Life?” asks the pressing question of if pregnant women, sometimes against their choosing, are a part of this. They’re not. It’s pretty clear. Black metal-dripped melodies strike and smear, while Cherry howls, “This body is mine, so the decision is mine!” while the band backs her with heartfelt chaos that hammers home its point.

“For the Sake of the Breed” is situated in aggression and melody, focusing on people’s obsession with pure-bred animals when so many shelter animals need homes (I have three shelter pets, and they’re awesome!). The yowled chorus blasts you in the guts, and Cherry later howls the title of song over and over with authority. Her singing then goes clean, while the playing remains emotional and slightly gazey. “How Do We Stop It?” has a rushing start, with Cherry fighting alongside those who have been inappropriately handled by someone against their will, even if in a mosh pit where the perpetrator thinks he can get away with it. “It’s still sexual assault, how do we fight it?” she calls, with the music punishing and leaving shrapnel behind. “Try Not to Die Until You’re Dead” is a track where the band goes more delicate, and for good reason, as Cherry’s words try to cope with devastation and defeat and tries to relate to others on the same path. The song gets tougher later musically, as Cherry vows, “I may be aching and exhausted, but life’s not over yet!” as she refuses to give in and plows on to the very end. “Iorek” is a quiet instrumental closer that allows you to come down from the chaos and galvanizing emotions you just witnessed, as it gushes and flows, ending on what sounds like a note of hope.

It would be cool if one day bands such as Svalbard could blast out music based on fantasy themes or historical battles or something like that, but until rights are equally distributed, this is going to be their pulpit. “It’s Hard to Have Hope” is a high-energy, punchy record that’s a fun listen but also frustrating as hell because it reminds you again the fight for freedom isn’t over. This band pulls no punches, so if you’re on the wrong side of history, your mouth has a good chance of getting bloodied.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://translationlossrecords.bigcartel.com/

Or here (UK): http://www.holyroarrecords.com/store

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

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

In music, as in all life, change is inevitable. It’s rare when a band goes its entire run and keeps its lineup fully intact, and it’s expected that parts are going to drop off here and there with the machine moving forward. Even metal’s great beasts such as Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, and Black Sabbath dealt with this, so no one is immune.

In 2014, Witch Mountain fans were stunned to learn singer Uta Plotkin has decided to move on from the band to pursue other interests. They were coming off the heels of that year’s excellent “Mobile of Angels,” and it seemed like things were ready to take off. Nonetheless, the band kept moving forward, and they rang up another stunner when it was announced then-19-year-old singer Kayla Dixon was joining the fold to take Plotkin’s place. Dixon was an unknown entity at the time, and many wondered how and if she was capable of taking the reins from a singer with the power and charisma Plotkin had and form a new version of Witch Mountain with guitarist Rob Wrong, drummer Nathan Carson, and bassist Justin Brown. Those questions were buried in the rubble for anyone who saw this lineup live, as they sounded as strong as ever, and Dixon seemed to own her role with dominance. Now, with the band’s fifth record, a self-titled collection, ready to drop, any worries that Dixon isn’t the real deal will be blown to bits. This is a smokier, more soulful Witch Mountain, with a lot of credit heaped her way for her sweltering performance. This record easily should find favor with their longtime fans.

“Midnight” opens the record and is a destroyer, with the band blasting you with bluesy doom attitude, and Dixon taking command right away. “You can crawl all the way to your hole in the ground, I’ll help you down,” she wails, spitting venom all the way. The guitar work is strong and soars into the clouds, while their foggy doom visions rise up and come to a surprisingly grisly end. Then we’re into a punchy cover Spirit’s 1968 cut “Mechanical World,” one that gets treated with some Led Zep-style stomp that gives the track even more life (the guitars stand in for the horn pumps, basically). Dixon injects darkness into the lines, “Somebody tell my father that I died, somebody tell my mother that I cried,” as the band surrounds her with jolting guitar work, a trip later into dreamland, and then a final jarring blast.

“Burn You Down” has been out in the world for a bit, as it was released as a single in 2016, and it maintains its cosmic strangeness and slow-simmering aura. As the song moves on, so does the tempo, and Dixon’s voice reaches out, demanding, “Remember my name!” Later she delivers some sinister, gnarly growls, while the band stirs the pot and gives off an abundance of steam. “Break yourself down!” Dixon calls, while the guitars boil, and static takes us out. “Hellfire” is an interesting one, as it’s built on winds simmering, the track delivering a smooth jazz feel, and Dixon’s sultry singing that shows she’s capable of giving this band a far different personality. It’s short but sweet. Closer “Nighthawk” is the 14:17-long closer, as thick bass and echoing guitars greet you and drag you on the journey. The track pulls the tempo back and forth, sometimes bleeding slowly, and at others going for the throat. Dixon trades off between clean singing and hissed growls, with the song later slowing down and entering psychedelic tunnels. Dixon’s earthy cries and the band’s burning approach bring the heat, ending the record on a melting note.

It’s great to hear Witch Mountain sounding massive and swaggering after losing a vital member of the band, and with Dixon in the fold, they can take things in different directions. You can hear a lot of that on this record, and it’s going to be fun to hear how they shape and shift on future albums. This is a fun, blistering record that brings the humidity and leaves your skin a little scorched.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.svartrecords.com/shop/

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

Photo by Daryl Darko

Creating challenging music that stands apart from a growing world of like-minded bands can’t be a thing that can take place overnight. That’s why a lot of bands that aren’t run-of-the-mill creators aren’t ripping out records each year, because it takes time and care to put out art that moves them and is worth their while to release into the world.

On that note, San Francisco-based doom until Grayceon is one that has been sporadic in their recordings, but when they do come back with a new record, it’s always a unique journey separate even from even their own work. It’s been seven years since the band’s last full-length “All We Destroy,” and after a five-year hiatus, Grayceon have returned with their fourth record “IV,” an eight-track, 40-minute effort that’s challenging musically and emotionally. The band, consisting of cellist/vocalist Jackie Perez Gratz (she also has worked with Giant Squid, Amber Asylum, and many others), guitarist Max Doyle, and drummer Zack Farwell, continues to examine progressive doom, sludge, and experimental rock, and their music continues to enrapture as it morphs into its current form. This is not music you necessarily can demand from a band on a regular basis, so when it arrives, you immerse yourself and try to bask in the band’s power while it’s still here.

The record starts with “Sliver Moon,” a solid opener with guitars driving, the cello whipping up, and Perez Gratz’s singing pushing the way. It’s a propulsive number that’s a nice reintroduction to the band and gateway into what’s next. “By-the-Wind Sailors” begins with drums rupturing and soft vocals floating over calm waters. Screams erupt, as Perez Gratz calls, “We’ve had our time, time of our lives,” as her cello swells and the band navigates through chaos and choppy seas. “Scorpion” is punchy and ominous, as Perez Gratz warns, “She waits patiently,” as she waits to strike her victim, unassumingly. The track clubs away, opening wounds, as the track bleeds and surges before washing away. “Let It Go” is one of the centerpieces of the record, and not because it’s in the middle. It’s a slower, heartfelt track where Perez Gratz pleads, “If you find the one you love, don’t let go.” The track eventually gets more volcanic, with harsh screams and the tempo pushing, and later when the song fires up again, as the chorus is delivered more forcefully but with no less sincerity than its initial, more tender version. Great song.

“Slow Burn” feels deliberately named as it starts, with the guitars churning away and then joining alongside the cello in battle. “Respect should be in your vocabulary,” Perez Gratz spits, as she questions attitude and motives. “What if you knew then what you know now? How would I have changed your mind?” she continues, on a song that has words we all should consider a little more closely these days. “The Point of Me” has a fiery open, with string stinging, and Perez Gratz calling, “I want to live life in the sun,” trying to eschew woes and try to grasp another ray of happiness. The track gets tricky from there, with all elements tangling and bringing prog thunder. “Pink Rose” goes back to delicate, with minimal instrumentation and Perez Gratz softly singing, “Mama, take me home.” Closer “Dreamers” is a final supercharge, and at 7:37, it’s the longest song. Guitars awaken, while the cello aches, and Perez Gratz’s singing soars, especially on the chorus when she declares, “We are dreamers!” Smudgy pounding leads to a false finish driven through a wormhole, and on the other side, the march renews. From there, we’re on an instrumental journey that sparks and revels in progressive power before slowing fading out.

Grayceon have been one of the most interesting, captivating bands in heavy music, and all of that remains in place on “IV.” No other band sounds quite like them, and the three members sound rejuvenated and firing on all cylinders after their time away. This is a record that’ll take you many places musically and emotionally, and it’s a great gift to have Grayceon in our presence again, continuing to build on their already impressive resume.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://translationlossrecords.bigcartel.com/

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

Photo by Sam Gehrke

I don’t know what the end of the world is going to look and/or sound like? I honestly hope I never find out. But if there was a way to soundtrack that event, I’m pretty sure it would be unnerving and like no horror we’ve ever experienced before.

I say this because my own vision of the end would be created by crazed doom duo The Body, one of the most bizarre and challenging bands on the entire planet. They have a sound, but they don’t. They are entrenched into a certain mindset, but they have no problem veering away from that. The past few years, they’ve worked to completely undo what most people think of the band, and that continues on their new record “I Have Fought Against It, But I Can’t Any Longer,” a line taken from Virginia Woolf’s suicide letter. That should indicate what you’re up against, which is sadness, despair, loneliness, and an emotional black hole that’s impossible to fill. The duo of guitarist/vocalist Chip King and drummer Lee Buford bring along contributors such as longtime collaborator Chrissy Wolpert (Assembly of Light Choir), Ben Eberle (Sandworm), Kristin Hayter (Lingua Ignota), and Michael Berdan (Uniform), and they build these songs with their collection of samples, rather than go the traditional route of composition. It makes for the most jagged, haze inducing effort of their entire run, and it’s one that might take a few visits to fully absorb.

“The Last Form of Loving” starts the record with weirdness and synth floating, as Wolpert’s ethereal voice mixes into the dreamscape and puts your mind into an altered state. “Can Carry No Weight” is eerie, with strange beats pounding, and King’s unmistakable shriek ripping away at you. Hayter’s singing snakes through that chaos, making the whole thing feel like a nightmare fever dream before fading out. “Party Alive” has a rush of sound that meets up with drums encircling and King’s shrieks mauling. Everything swirls like a tornado, weird doom horns cut through, guitars choke the air, and voices twist and strangle on their way out. The track goes into psyche panic, as sounds rush and pulsate. “The West Has Failed” works in samples of Eek-a-Mouse while King’s howls rub your face in gravel, and weird singing cuts through that and brings back harsh reality. “Nothing Stirs” has static-driven beats, guitars pushing into the murk, as Hayter calls, “When your love is gone, what is left?” Her voice soars before it devolves into corroded hell, with her wailing, “March on,” as if her capacity for hope is dissolving right in front of you.

“Off Script” has beats bouncing, echoes reverberating, and wild growls and cries mixing together. A weird, demonic stretch haunts your core, while the dramatic vision bleeds away. “An Urn” has heavy noise interference, trudging playing, and a hip-hop feel to the drum work. Hayter’s growls of, “You have left, never to return,” register a death blow to the heart, while the intensity builds, and the pain becomes too much to behold. “Blessed Alone” has a thick wall of sound, Wolpert’s haunting singing spreading, and piano dripping blood. The dreamy singing and King’s vicious shrieks mix, adding beauty to ugliness, while the track burns away. “Sickly Heart of Sand” shimmers, with strange guitars and Hayter’s wrenching shrieks plastering. Berdan delivers hardcore-style, blunt shouts, as the noise stings, and the tidal wave of electricity bubbles away. Closer “Ten Times a Day, Every Day, a Stranger” is a heart-stopper, a track that initially floats in noise before all fades, and mere piano accompanies a reading of Bohumil Hrabal’s work from “Total Fears: Selected Letters to Dubenka,” a passage that reeks of love lost and emotional scars that turns a person in a living ghost. “I’ve reached the peak of emptiness, and everything hurts,” the narrator warbles, as he sees people pass him with purpose, where he has none. It’s a gutting, devastating end to a record that already did ample damage before this piece.

The heartbreak and emotional gutting The Body put you through on “I Have Fought Against It, But I Can’t Any Longer” is overwhelming and savage, and this is one of the most emotional things the duo ever has created, which is saying something. This isn’t straight-up doom the way most listeners expect, but it’s black, dark, and desperate as anything that sub-genre can offer. Everything here feels like the end of everything, and the result is an impenetrable black hole.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://thrilljockey.com/products

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

Immersing oneself in weirdness can be a captivating, worthy experience, as long as your mind is flexible enough to take the ride. Conventional is fine, and sometimes the comfort that brings can be warm, but taking chances and unearthing new sounds tend to, for me, be a better journey when hearing music.

That said, we’ve arrived at “Bones in the Fire,” the debut full-length effort from Baltimore-based instrumental trio Thought Eater, and holy shit, is this a strange one. It’s not like you won’t understand what’s going on or wonder what the musical content is supposed to mean, but you will have your head tilted from time to time as these guys take you around some strange bends and twists. The six tracks here are mostly lengthy and have immersive stories to tell (even if no words are included), and each trip back to this album will reveal new mysteries you didn’t notice the first time. The band—12-string bassist Darin Tambascio (who also played in other mind-altering bands such as National Sunday Law and Graviton), guitarist Douglas Griffith, and drummer Bobby Murray—formed a couple years ago and delivered their first music on a split effort with Iron Jawed Guru. In that time since, they’ve continued to cultivate their sound and style, which is all over this killer effort.

Part 1 of the title track opens the record with ominous riffs rolling and then soaring, travelling similar terrain as Pelican before them. The track starts to sludge a little slower, grinding your face in the mud, before it lights up anew. Burly clobbering claims your flesh from there, with the song bleeding out at the end. “Pantomimic Dances” has a smudging, mauling pace before the leads light up and charge hard. Serenity emerges out of that before a quick power burst until acoustics take over. That rustic feel lasts until the heaviness comes back to life, hulking along and punishing before the power bleeds away. “Speak Through Dreams” is serene and intoxicating, leading to the riffs hypnotizing, and a dangerous fire being set. Charges register, and jagged riffs comes to life, and then the band clogs your veins with mud and stomps with a prog-fueled fury. Emotional melodies loop through, feeling like you’re soaring into the heart of the sun.

“Covenant” is the longest song, clocking in at 9:34, and it has a dark, foreboding start. The guitars pick up, jangle, and bleed, while the pace smothers, and cleaner lines swim through the chaos, adding color to the murk. Things hit the dirt again, with a blood-caked fury that grinds away at your bones. Melodies then soar and launch different hues, while the song slowly tucks itself into the earth and cools away. Part 2 of the title track follows and instantly puts you into a trance. Spindly guitar work powers through, while the riffs create smoke, and then we head into the cosmos unexpectedly. Cataclysm follows, before the final punches leave ringing in your ears. Closer “Unwelt” mixes acoustics and psychedelic organs that twist your imagination, and then you’re headfirst into a drug dream. Proggy fog spreads, putting you into a haze similar to Yes/ELP decades before them, and finally the track breaks into stardust, flying away forever.

Thought Eater might be right up your alley if you like to be challenged and kept guessing during your music-listening experiences. “Bones in the Fire” is a propulsive, bruising record that hints that these guys could be the next flag bearer for standard-destroying instrumental metal bands. This is an album that demands undivided attention and repeated listens, and the reward for your energy is connecting with a record that feels like a living, breathing being.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://grimoirerecords.bandcamp.com/album/bones-in-the-fire

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

Comebacks are a weird thing. Expectations are elevated to an impossibly high level, and when every little bit of one’s hopes are not met, it can feel like a real letdown. Sometimes it’s better to let the past be the past, though for every handful of failures, there’s a reunion that makes sense and works.

Legendary Swedish melodic death metal crew At the Gates fall in the category of restarts that were worth it for sure. Their second half started with live shows to give their fans, some of whom were very young or not even born during the band’s heyday, a chance to hear the classic again. Then came 2014’s “At War With Reality,” an album that came a mere 19 years after their genre-defining classic “Slaughter of the Soul,” and to be honest, I didn’t really feel it. It wasn’t a bad record at all, but there are so many bands that have imitated their formula, that it didn’t feel urgent enough to rise above their millions of followers. Now, four years later, the band hits back with “To Drink From the Night Itself,” a record that feels like the proper follow-up to the classic days, a rager that will turn your eyes black. The band had a major shift with guitarist/primary songwriter Anders Björler leaving the fold, dropping his duties into his bassist brother Jonas’ hands. He and vocalist Tomas Lindberg were the main directors of this killer record, and along with new guitarist Jonas Stålhammar (Bombs of Hades, Crippled Black Phoenix, The Lurking Fear), guitarist Martin Larsson, and drummer Adrian Erlandsson, the group created a classic-sounding AtG record focusing on art as a primary motivator behind change and expression of emotions, especially within out currently fractured societies. This record is a fucking battle cry.

“Der Widerstand” is an instrumental opening directly drawn from Peter Weiss’ novel “The Aesthetics of Resistance,” the text that inspired the entire album, and it’s built with stirring strings and a female voice calling out, leading its way to the thunderous title track, a song that could do down as a live classic for years to come. It’s bludgeoning and devastating, with a simple chorus of Lindberg rapid fire howling the song’s title, and this one will sound great on a summer night, live, with strong brew in hand. “A Stare Bound in Stone” has a cool riff with punishing verses that reek of classic death. A quick cooldown is followed by the track lightning up again, throwing jabs, and going out on the chime of a doom bell. “Palace of Lepers” again brings the heavy riffs, with Lindberg howling about “inescapable death,” and from there the guitars march, and a gazey solo leaves you hypnotized. “Daggers of Black Haze” has keys dripping ice pellets and riffs spiraling before the band dishes out a beating. Later on, acoustics bring a rustic feel, but out of that the soloing ignites, and Lindberg’s scarred screams penetrate the soul. “The Chasm” has stunning guitar work and a gnarly pace that pulls no punches. The soloing has a classic metal flavor, as the song barrels toward its grave.

“In Nameless Sleep” grinds away while the leads catch fire, and the speedy verses cause heads to spin. A quick clean sequence leads to the band returning with a chugging intensity, giving the song a death-defying end. “The Colours of the Beast” is even darker, with an ominous riff entering your bloodstream and the chorus surging. The track is sinister yet melodic, and later some strange effects on Lindberg’s voices adds alien weirdness to a track that drips blackness. “A Labyrinth of Tombs” punches open with guitars shredding, savage vocals, and an essence that feels like heyday AtG. The track stays on this volcanic pace, crushing you to the very end. “Seas of Starvation” smudges, with filthy growls leading the way and the guitars gushing emotion amid sparks flying. “In Death They Shall Burn” quivers and delivers fury, also falling in line with tried-and-true At the Gates sound. The riffs bleed melody, while the vocals send echoes, and the higher gear at the end of the song leaves a pile of cinders behind. Closer “The Mirror Black” is an interesting change of pace, as colder guitars bring rain, and the pulled-back chorus pays off the darkness afoot. Strings sweep in later, as eerie noises, classical-style composition, and strange whispering bring this record to a somber end.

At the Gates’ story would have felt complete to most people had they never recorded another note after “Slaughter” and just done tours here and there, but no way that would have been satisfying to this band. Instead, we get fireball hurlers such as “To Drink From the Night Itself” to keep the band alive, vital, and killing. It’s amazing to have these legends among us producing killer content at a high level, and they don’t sound anywhere near running out of motivation.

For more on the band, go here: http://atthegates.se/

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

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

Came up with a cool shower idea. We’re using Spotify (THEY HAVE NO IDEA!) to bring you a monthly list we are going to curate. This month, it’s what we liked most from April. It was a good month. Lots of screaming, though.