Death metal that feels particularly gruesome is a nice way to treat the brain after enduring countless real-life atrocities driven by having the gall to try to keep up with daily events. That feeling of horror and bloodshed that isn’t playing out on your phone or television can be weirdly comforting, taking your mind to somewhere morbid in a different way?

Seattle-based death metal destroyers Re-Buried provide the perfect diversion from daily chaos and instead import you into the world of blood-splattering horrors and gruesome skullduggery. “Flesh Mourning,” their second album, is pure, real death metal that makes your insides feel disgusting and that would make anyone new to this type of music recoil in horror. This isn’t Hot Topic shit. No offense. The kids need a gateway after all. Instead, the band—vocalist Chris Pinto (also of Fõrn), guitarists Paul Richards (who also add Wurlitzer, if you can believe it), Ed Bingaman, and Daniel Racines, bassist Clayton Wolff, drummer Alex Bytnar—rubs your face in the blood and guts and delivers an ugly battering that will warp your brain.

“Obitual Illusion” drills open with guitars scuffing and growls retching vomitously, smothering with ugly hammering. The dire mentality continues as the punishment grinds, the howls blur, and everything bleeds into a gutter. “Jagged Psyche” rushes with guitars blistering, guitars cutting into flesh, growls hissing in horror. The leads swelter as beastly carnage accrues, the growls belching into eerie keys and abject horror. “Rotted Back to Life” has the bass buzzing and a slow, doomy storm rumbling, eventually turning headlong into battering guitars work. Deep growls gut as the heaviness pierces organs, crushing with menace. “Chainsaw Ritual” starts with, obviously, a saw firing up, howls mauling, and an infernal, sooty attack choking. The brutality floods dangerously, torture peaking, crushing to the final gory moments.

The title track has guitars encircling, the growls sickening, and the pace decimating, the playing slowly picking up steam. The punishment crawls but mangles, the humidity grows to unmanageable levels, and growls spit stomach acid from the guts. “Pestilence Fog” starts with guitars carving through flesh, doomy waters lapping with blackness, death stirring and driving into madness. A calculated beating drags bodies over the earth, and growls snarl, the playing cutting down everything before it. “Putridity in Existence” slowly unfurls, the heat rising noticeably, growls boiling in blood as the muscular chaos flexes. Pained howls jar as the guitar work tangles brain wiring, the tempo swaggers, and the growing ash collects and heads into sinister instrumental closer “Cold Blood.” This is a fitting, unsettling end with visions of strange horror conjured by the guitars, the spirit getting blacker and uglier before being pulled from your imagination.

Reburied certainly make their best effort at claiming the mantle of one of death metal’s most disgusting, destructive bands on “Flesh Mourning.” Strains of their doom past make things icier and more nausea inducing, and they succeed with every inch of terror folded into this creation. This is not easily digestible death, it’s not polished, and it goes right for the jugular, which  should find favor with anyone looking for something gruesome and unforgiving.

For more on the band, go here: https://re-buried.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://translationloss.com/collections/re-buried-collection

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

A good thrash record should serve up a lot of different things to you while your brain is being ground into a paste. As noted too many times, having cut my teeth on thrash, I’m terribly particular about this style, and I don’t think the subgenre has grown well. But there still are a lot of bands doing it right, and Bloodletter is one of them.

As I said, thrash records often spray you with songs about various topics, most of them grim, many times horror based. “Leave the Light Behind,” the Chicago-based band’s fourth band, jumps out of the gates immediately lamenting the rotting state of the world and visiting fantasy elements, pestilence, mental issues, and nightmares among other things. The band—vocalist/guitarist Pete Carparelli, guitarist Pat Armamentos, bassist Tanner Hudson—delivers the goods over and over on 10 tracks and 35 minutes, reminding of the power and ferocity of thrash metal when it’s goddamn done right.

“A World Unmade” opens as a total assault, punchy and screamy, feeling a lot like Kreator, which it does throughout. Which certainly isn’t a bad thing. “The is the ruin of our making,” Carparelli howls, a lava-rich solo overflowing, mashing to the end. “On Blackened Wings” is urgent and furious, melodic leads ripping, an attack rising that threatens your well-being. Howls stretch as the colors burst, guitars adding more drama to the end. “Eternal Winter” has guitars flooding, the band leaning toward death, the drums blasting in areas. “The wind is its voice, the snow is its will,” Carparelli wails, adding a freezing menace to the song and the story, the guitars blurring and spreading out the madness. “Terminal” brings creaky howls, jarring melodies, and  Carparelli calling, “Trapped inside a prison of my mind.” The track gets more morbid, digging into mental wounds, burying bones in the dirt. “Unearthing Darkness” is speedy as hell, the vocals spat, warnings of violence plowing through the verses. The chorus flexes as the soloing unloads, guitars glimmering and making you shield your eyes from the pressure.

“Hunting Horror” trudges through the weeds, the guitars bubbling, Carparelli screaming, “Blood red eyes glow in the night,” the playing pressing against veins. The words vow revenge as their teeth sink in, the shouts of, “Devour! Destroy!” bruising. “The Black Death” is a little too uncomfortable for our own good considering where we are in 2025, and it’s a punisher, Carparelli wailing, “Life is the debt, suffering is the payment.” The playing is fast and mashing, strong soloing tearing through the void and into bone. “Call of the Deep One” has tricky riffs and darkness spreading, monstrous growls squeezing with all their might, moody soloing melting away thickening ice. The playing is a full force as the vocals terrify, the back end plowing into damnation. “Night Terrors” brings nightmares to life, the playing growing in strength, Carparelli howling, “Each breath grows heavier, I may not last.” The power rumbles through the ground, the guitars galloping and ending in ashes. Closer “The Burial” opens with eerie keys, and then everything tears open, screams mashing, the playing smashing pavement. “Wishing I could wake from this hell,” Carparelli shouts, the playing continuing to splatter (guest Nate Madden’s soloing adding more electricity), the keys that greeted you luring you into a mesmerizing fog.

Bloodletter’s classic sound, smearing brutality, and mix of real-life and fantastical horrors makes for a high point on “Leave the Light Behind.” This is a real step up for a band that already was operating at a high level, but this album should really open up a lot of eyes, especially for those who have fallen asleep on thrash. It’s a bruiser from start to finish, and it’s one that’s easy to revisit over and over.

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

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

Or here: https://wisebloodrecords.8merch.com/

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

We’re here at the tail end of July, and while Halloween and the darker, colder evenings still are a ways off, that doesn’t mean we can’t look ahead and plan accordingly with the music we hear. There are certain sounds that feel the most alive during those decaying days, and when you hear it, you absolutely know it fits that timeframe perfectly.

Cleveland mashers Atomic Witch have a stranglehold on a lot of the spookier sounds, with their mix of death metal and vocal flourishes that reek (in a great way) of King Diamond. It’s tailor made for autumn, but it still sounds pretty great while we’re sweating through totally not human-generated heat that makes just going outside a chore. The band—vocalist Greg Martinis, guitarist/vocalist Jesse Shattuck, guitarist Jonah Meister, bassist David McJunkins, drummer Nick Amato—hammers and brings morbid tidings on “Death Etiquette,” their molten second record that is a metallic joy from start to finish. This is a goddamn metal record, and no one could think otherwise. It’s fun, it’s furious, and it’ll ravage you until dead leaves are decayed.

“Morgue Rat” tears open, vicious screams eating away at you, banshee wails coming over the chorus and scorching flesh. Guitars smear and an off-kilter attack rattles, leads raging to a fiery end. “Of Flesh & Chrome” chars and thrashes, the guitars maiming as the screaming/singing combo strikes again. In fact, the higher vocals sound like an air raid siren, nastiness working into a spacious solo, striking with utter force. “Worms & Dirt” flattens, the vocals powering, guitars lighting fires, a ’90s-style thrash force flexing its muscles. The soloing flows with energy as crazed singing stings, jarring to a blistering end. “Dream Rot” has the drums rousing and the guitars sweeping, shrieks raining down like blades. The leads flurry as the tones darken, the playing opens new tributaries, and guttural viciousness bleeds away.

“Sabbath Breaker” unleashes a death-like fury, the power crushing and bruising faces, the pace slowing but remaining furiously heavy. Gutting fury scrapes flesh, growls burrow into the dirt, and vicious gurgles circle the drain. “Death Edging (Come to the Light)” fades in from the outside, and it’s not long until the playing envelops, the howls maiming and stretching muscle. Melodic leads sweep, high singing scorches the flesh, and then the leads turn warm, flowing like muddy river water. “Skelecidal” has riffs toppling and a blisteringly heavy assault under taken, screams digging under fingernails. The guitars rise and scorch, acidic singing lathering, blasting home. Closer “Vicious Mistress” is smothering and bendy, trudging over meaty verses, the chorus swimming in blood. Wails destroy as the guitars aggravate, high-pitched screams piercing your ears viciously.

“Death Etiquette” is a bruising record with flashes of classic heavy metal, bruising as hard as anything in Atomic Witch’s admittedly smaller catalog. This is fun and fiery, a crushing display that’s full of electricity and horror, music that will remain a blast to hear until Halloween arrives. This is fun and violent as fuck, an album that should leave you plastered to the ground.

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

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

Or here (Europe): https://redefiningdarkness.8merch.com/

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

Evolution is a concept that, for some reason, is controversial to a lot of people. That’s what happens when people try to defy science, a thing they cannot (or choose not to) understand. But we watch it through our and other species, the planet, and even our scientific and artistic endeavors. We grow in so many ways, which keeps us alive.

The Long Hunt, the Pittsburgh-based instrumental drone/doom trio that long ago planted its roots, add new shades and colors to what they do with each release, and the same goes for their new fourth album “Natural Order.” The album isn’t a radical departure by any means, but another phase of growth, a continual development into a deeper, more varied beast. The band—guitarist Trevor Richards, bassist Allison Kacmar Richards, drummer Mark Lyons—has morphed over time and gradually built into what they do, and each release gives you a newly refined vision. This one is perfect for once cooler summer evenings arrive or on a sun-splashed walk through the woods where you can pay homage to your surroundings and be overcome by the power of this band’s music.

“It Hunts the Shadows” opens with guitars quivering, opening sunburnt visions, then the bass follows behind, thickening. There’s a dusty electric feel going through your veins, the sludge coming at you harder, the final strains blasting out. “The Cosmic Egg” feels properly spacey when it enters, guitars echoing and treading, a desert vibe chilling your anxieties. Guitars pick up as things feel doomier and heavier, the melodies blazing, the bass snaking into oblivion. “Assiduous Gnaw” begins with a nice blanket of psychedelic warmth, working into swampier terrain, the murmuring fires stoked to full gush again. The playing feels fiery and more forceful, the bass numbing as the drums pace, the guitars leaving blisters that fester in the sun. “Spine of the Dusk” is slow and humid when it dawns, gliding through the bones of summer, guitars spreading sun-bleached memories. The playing gets dreamier as the lights emerge, making your brain feel stoned, thoughts dividing into new ideas.

“Tooth and Claw” starts ominously, the bass slowly climbing rocks formations, a mechanical push turning chunkier, the drums pacing along, cowbell gently prodded. The elements begin to pile on top of one another, noise scraping as the riffs chew, a final burly attack fully overwhelming. “The Liminal Flow” moves at a deliberate pace, luring you in, the guitars growing more agitated and landing blows. Melodies encircle as the playing bruises, guitars taking control and pulling each corner of the journey, buzzing energy dissipating and merging with the ground. “A Narrow Path” is warm and jazzy at the outset, feeling like a cool Western evening, the bass popping and riffs lulling. The playing gently flows as the guitars simmer, heated leads turning hypnotic, looping to a pillowy landing spot. Closer “Pillar of Dawn” has guitars smearing and flowing, the elements liquifying and flowing over tested muscle. The riffs begin to spark as vintage melodies rain down and flood with dream-state nostalgia, the bass lighting the path forward, woodsy chill blurring vision and ending the journey.

“Natural Order” is the logical next step for the Long Hunt, as their psyche doom always seemed headed in this direction, therefore this album flows perfectly and induces new visions. This is an imaginative, immersive record that’s ideal for the upcoming late summer evenings, when your flesh is cooling from a day in the sun, and the cooler air and dusk are your truest companions. The Long Hunt never veer too far from their path, but they always add new colors and inspirations they find along the way to make their art more infectious and inviting, music that always feels like a spirit that never leaves your side. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://thelonghunt.bandcamp.com/album/natural-order

It feels like we either live in some sort of hell or that the world is disintegrating before our eyes as swaths of leadership around the globe delve further into authoritarianism. Yeah, that’s good for the power structure that answers to no one, but if you have your head screwed on straight, it is agony waking up every day.

Polish death crushers Clairvoyance’s debut full-length “Chasm of Immurement” doesn’t address that directly, that being the crumbling state of the world. But the dread and hell and misery that’s attached? Yeah, they serve that up in abundance with devastating, doom-infested death metal that feels like it collects all its disgust to hurl back at whatever target these choose. The band—vocalist Maciej Cesarczyk, guitarist/vocalist Denis Didenko, guitarist Kacper Pawluk, bassist Vlad Levchenko, drummer Adrian Szczepański—piles pressure and madness into six tracks and 34 minutes that ravage fully and make a case for them being hailed as one of the next new death metal bands to help carry the banner.

“Eternal Blaze” opens in buried growls and then begins to trudge with force, guitars punishing as the burly attack gets under way. The fury mounts as growls corrode, speeding up as the carnage ravages in full, leaving ash behind. “Hymn of the Befouled” has guitars tangling and battering, cavernous growls reaching into your guts, spacious leads taking off from there, infusing atmosphere. Leads snarl as the drums come unglued, the band churning and smothering until a fiery end. “Fleshmachine” is a driving menace, the drums marring as the growls engorge, the guitars electrifying and dominating. The leads blaze as the drums splatter, guttural growls taking you apart as the pace rushes, and feedback burns everything to a crisp.

“Reign of Silence” is doomy as hell, growls turning things more vicious, the playing blistering and pulling you through the mud. The death strains flex harder, mauling as the growls churn, the leads attain a nuclear glow, and everything ends in a deadly downward spiral. “Blood Divine” erupts, growls gurgling, the leads intensifying the heat, mangling into a bloody assault. The band goes thrashier, the pace destroying as growls boil and the guitars add an extra bed a flames to the proceedings. Closer “Monument to Dread” enters amid violent drumming, mashing growls, and a monstrous push into daggers and cragged rocks. The bass drives as the pace mauls slower, the guitars tearing through flesh walls, sinking in their teeth. Growls maim as the drums pulverize, the last scorching wave of power eating through bone.

“Chasm of Immurement” might be Clairvoyance’s first full-length, but it lands mightily, confidently, morbidly, like a band that’s been at this longer than they have. The darkness and the physical and mental torment that helped inspire these songs are deep and entrenched, helping you get a taste of each swath of suffering. This is a devastating debut that should carve a path for this band to sit among death metal’s up and coming leaders.

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

To buy the album, go here (U.S.): https://carbonizedrecords.merchtable.com/search?q=CLAIRVOYANCE%2F

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

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

The blazing hot summer is a strange time for death metal for me. I absolutely listen to it the entire three-month span, but it’s a time when my head isn’t always in the right place for all new releases. This summer has been different, and maybe it’s my frame of mind, but it feels like it’s all hitting when everything feels miserable.

Swedish death squad Filth arrive with their debut album “Time to Rot,” and that’s fitting as there are a lot of elements of our world that could stand to decay forever. This is grinding, slowly dealt death that hits you right in the chest and is ideally proportioned. At six tracks and 29 minutes, the band—vocalist/drummer Per, guitarist/bassist Sebastian, guitarist Ismael—gives you just enough to fill your rotting guts and leave you wanting more. That’s incredibly welcome. I’m sure they could have tacked on another two or three tracks, but this hits harder as is. It’s smoldering and dark, and nasty, and it demands replay, which its running time makes easy to do. Repeatedly.

“Odious Obsession” bristles with industrial-style noise, paving the way for filthy death, a crushing tempo, and growls that serve menace. The band hammers hard, proving to be a massive force with snarling riffs and a mighty power surge. The title track has weird echo out front, then furnace-like heat immediately greeting you, growls engorging as the guitars come to a boil. The playing rips ever harder, stampeding over unsuspecting victims, barreling into endless mud pits and charring your senses along the way. “Flesh Dress” initially delivers strange racket, and then gruff guitars begin to mash, growls choking on noxious fumes, the tempo absolutely unloading. Guitars spit fire before settling back a bit, and then the attack is mounted anew, surging to a devastating finish.

“Live in Agony Die in Pain” spills boiling lava, the guitars cutting through fiery tributaries, the growls burying all hope beneath the flames. There’s a section of hypnosis that sets the stage for doomy, sooty punishment that is doled out generously, an attack taking calculated turns, everything ending in blinding carnage. “Decrepit Womb” starts clean, hinting at some calm, but it’s devoured by doomy death and howls that smother, the savagery continuing to find new levels of pain. Monstrous chaos bleeds into the picture, growls strangling, the final moments coming at you suddenly and violently. Closer “Emaciated” has guitars encircling and then unloading, ugly growls crawling down your back, skull-dragging madness dragging cinders across your face. Guitars layer as doomy frost begins to accumulate, the power haunting and bringing a freezing finish.

“Time to Rot” is an effective, economical serving of classic death metal with a little bit of doom burned around the edges for taste, and Filth have a great launching-off point for diving deeper into the void. This is properly brutal and doesn’t overstay its welcome which, trust me, is incredibly refreshing among the sea of over-bloated records. This album gets in, crushes your will to live, and fades before you really know what hit you. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/filth-time-to-rot-lp/

Or here: https://www.rottedlife.com/rotted-life-releases

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

And here: https://www.rottedlife.com/

The human experience is a miserable one for so many people, and it’s about to get more difficult and blatantly unfair. In very few other times were people this beaten down by the power structure, some ignorantly so, and there is no one coming anytime soon to change that fate. A lot of times, it’s hell.

Which brings us to Hell the band, a one-man project helmed by M.S.W. that long has travelled through a world of existential suffering. “Submersus,” the project’s fifth full-length, and first in eight years, pours more of that into five tracks that batter with doom, sludge, and pain. There aren’t a ton of new twists and turns on this record, and there doesn’t need to be. M.S.W. has a way of churning you mind, heart, and body, helping you get a tiny glance at the emotions that went into making this music. It’s always destructively heavy, musically and lyrically, and the path you take will leave you battered and torn.  

“Hevy” opens in a hail of feedback before the tempo begins pummeling, M.S.W. wailing, “What have I become?” We head directly into grime and pain, drubbing as the screams fry, the playing shifting heavier into sludge, guitars building a swelling atmosphere. Gazey fire expands its grasp as the tempo blows open, spacious chaos spreading, guitars conjuring a fog that blankets everything. “Gravis” chugs, slowly bathing in the increasing pressure. Agonizing screams ripple down your spine as the playing is dragged through madness, the fuzz accumulating, drone thickening and blocking out all light. Wordless calls float as the electricity scorches, screams burn as cleaner notes rise, mournful melodies looping into a hopeless oblivion.

“Factum” has guitars quivering and a sunburnt feel wilting and bleaching color. A lonesome aura fills your chest as guitars cry out, slowly picking up the intensity before finally bowing to solitude. “Mortem” feels swampy and thick, shrieks maiming as sounds spread deeper into the darkness. Morbid leads moan as the battering delivers a calculated attack, leads suddenly glimmer, and we’re driving into fury as feedback drowns, and cold water freezes your flesh. Closer “Bog” emerges from the shadows, developing a cosmic bend, hellish screams choking you in the void, wrenching as the bruising continues. Sounds grow more immersive and fierce, the drone returns and buzzes, and dreams are warped, bleeding into a bizarre timeline in another dimension.

“Submersus” arrives at a unique, and miserable time in human existence, and anyone already struggling existentially likely isn’t doing much better these days. M.S.W. captures that suffering in these five songs that, yes, also attach nicely to his previous work where the search for some relief from excruciating personal efforts that often end up feeling feeble and pointless. This is music for searching within oneself for the remaining drops of strength we have when the outside world aims to drain it from our lifeless bodies.  

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

To buy the album, go here: http://sentientruin.com/releases/hell-submersus

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

Death is horrifying to begin with, but having to deal with losing the ones closest to us is some of the most agonizing shit there it. I grew up dreading my parents’ deaths, and now that both events have passed, it was nothing like I thought it would be. We fear the pain and sorrow that follow, knowing how inexplicably hellish that will be.

Matt Jencik, a musician who has played with Implodes, Don Caballero, and in Slint’s live band, reflected on that and the desperation he felt to hold onto his loved ones forever, no matter what it takes. “Never Die,” his new collaboration with Madeleine Johnston of Midwife, takes its name from that experience, the desire to try to hold onto everyone forever. The two make for a formidable and effective pairing, with hushed energy, unbuffed pulses, and a heartbeat that beats from side to side. It’s a record that haunts and brings you back to vulnerable spots that might remain sore, Jencik’s desire to extend live combined with Johnston’s willingness to embrace the void.

“Delete Key” starts with murky synth and Johnston’s hushed, unmistakable voice, immersively floating beyond this world. Sounds cut through, and the feeling of nighttime loneliness takes over and sinks. “Don’t Protest (Too Much)” starts with beats and scuffed guitar, both singing (Johnston more in a whisper). The pace plods and numbs, taking on an emotional bend, the chorus basking in starlight and meting into the dark. “Flower Dragon” has guitars charging but not overwhelming, Johnson’s voice taking on a gentleness and vulnerability. The playing is hypnotic, the singing gliding as guitars drizzle, the dusk emerging and enveloping. “The Last Night” has synth unfolding and a gray hue passing, Jencik speaks as Johnston sings, and the elements continue to trade off as the reflective state builds. The pair ruminate over fading memories, layered vocals baking, synth lapping up the final drops. “Bend” feels strategically named as that’s what it feels like your brain is doing as guitars boil and drone, the singing soothing as sounds warp. The melodies sweep past stardust, swelling and picking up muted colors that wash away.

The title track has guitars chiming and dreamy singing, beats echoing as a whirry haze thickens. Sounds buzz as a simple, yet desperate refrain rains down, blending into ethereal calm. “Only Death Is Real” feels wintry, synth glistening, the singing surrounding, the chorus taking control. Guitars buzz as the sounds quiver, a reflective aura passing through detached night thoughts that finally release their grip. “Organ Delay” starts with cosmic synth, a breeze picking up and spreading pillowy playing, giving room the land. The immersion continues as your cells radiate, a magical feel working its way down your spine. “September Goths” pumps fog as the beats numb, Johnston singing and bringing with her a strange softness. Keys whir as the drums drive, taking on a more upbeat path that mixes with a bassline that twists arms. Closer “Rickety Ride” has beats clashing, guitars coating, Jencik recalling memories as slide guitar aches (he mentions Pegasus and Cricket Lounge, two well-known places in Pittsburgh, from which he originally hails) . Johnston sings as Jencik recites past events, keys bubble and turn into horror, and the power slowly faces away.

Jencik and Johnston capture darkness, pain, and desperation on “Never Die,” a collaborative effort that lets each artists’ elements come to the forefront. Jencik’s anxiety over loss combined with Johnston’s willingness to navigate such dark waters makes for an experience that can feels all kinds of different ways to various audiences. It’s a torch in the darknerss, a longing during the long night, and a way to bridge one reality to another, no matter how painful that might be in the end.    

For more on Matt Jencik, go here: https://mattjencik.bandcamp.com/

For more on Midwife, go here: https://heavenmetal.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/pages/matt-jencik-midwife-never-die

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

Bands lose members all the time, so it’s not really a massive deal when it happens. The conventional thought is you replace the musician who left and get on with things. After all, there are very few bands that maintain the exact same membership throughout the duration of their existence, so change should be second nature.

South Dakota-based death metal punishers Angerot found themselves down a drummer when Matt Johnson left the band, and going into recording their fourth album “Seofon,” they decided to defy convention. Instead of replacing Johnson, the three remaining members—vocalist/guitarist C.R. Petit, guitarist Jason Ellsworth, bassist Bill Zaugg—decided to use a different drummer for each of the seven tracks on this record. They recruited an impressive array of people behind the kit, each adding their own personality and style to the song to which they contribute, giving the album an unpredictable feel.

“Rapture Ov All That Is” kicks off and features Kevin Paradis of Aronious and formerly of Benighted, and this track takes little time getting boiling, battering rhythms, and mauling vocals lathering with devastation. Some cool leads tingle as the lumbering continues, turning uglier and squeezing blood from bone. “When Witches Dance” has Derek Roddy of Serpent’s Rise and formerly Hate Eternal, and things start atmospherically, but the drumming loosens guts, beastly growls plastering as the guitars smear. The vocals continue to scorch as the playing bends and warps, the drumming just hammering, the heat rising as everything churns out. “We Are the Serpents & the Saints” brings Dimmu Borgir’s Dariusz “Daray” Brzozowki into the fold, and things are tense right away, throaty hell and bludgeoning playing combining, a simple, but effective chorus flexing. Leads liquify as the vocals are a menacing yell, sludgy pounding choking, the pressure gurgling.

“Lying Tongues Removed” features Pierce Williams, formerly of Skeletal Remains, and he makes his presence felt as much as anyone here, channeling his violent playing as the band follows suit. Guitars light up as the growls snarl, strong leads take over, and the drumming gets a little looser, swinging as roars smash and speed blurs. “Her Song Ov Feathers & Ivory” welcomes Marco Pitruzzella of Six Feet Under and Sleep Terror, and this thigs is sinister and mean, militaristic drumming plastering, the vocals scraping flesh from bone. The nastiness combines with hazy guitars and a renewed effort at bloodying noses, the guitars soaring before burning out. “A Pact Made In Flesh & Wine” brings in Thomas Haywood of Grave Plague among many others, and the drumming splatters as fuzzier, more humid death metal results, growls choking as twin leads add pinpoints of light. Of course, the heat intensifies as everything turns into a savage beatdown, drums crushing as the guitars head deep into the skies. Closer “With No Eyes I See” has Zack Simmons of Goatwhore and Acid Bath, and the band smashes with reckless abandon, growls lurching, the guitars charging. Jolting angles jar your body as twin leads unite and glow, infernal howls incinerate your senses, and the pace decimates to the bloody finish.

“Seofon” obviously is noteworthy for Angerot’s drummer by committee approach here, but don’t let that distract from the ferocity and effectiveness of these songs. Yes, each track feels a little different based on who is behind the kit, but that’s never distracting, and the strength of the material is pretty apparent. Not sure which direction the band will go as far as finding a permanent drummer, but anyone here would suffice and make total sense. Plus, the record rips, which is the most important part.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://redefiningdarkness.8merch.us/product/angerot-seofon-cd/

Or here (Europe): https://redefiningdarkness.8merch.com/product/angerot-seofon-cd/

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

Has there ever been a time when an escape from reality has been more welcome than it is right now? I’m sure there probably has been, but I can only comment on our current existence, and trying to find something to pull our minds out of the mental fire is something we all could find refreshing as societal temperatures rise.

Boise, Idaho, crushers Weald & Woe have you set up perfectly on their thunderous third record “Far From the Light of Heaven,” an eight-track, 37-minute opus that spills you into a devastating fantasy land. Dubbed “castle metal,” a tag that also applies to other like-minded artists such as Obsequiae or even Morke, the music on here takes you away to swords clashing, horses galloping, chainmail shredding. The band—vocalist/guitarist Jeff Young, vocalist/guitarist Brent Ruddy, bassist Zak Darbin—goes full bore, plying melodic black metal and a twinge of power to make for a rousing devastating adventure.

“This Vale of Tears” opens warmly, strong melodies flowing, shrieks raining down and aggravating fires. The pace keeps you plugged in, wild wails punishing, drums blasting before the pace shifts, and the power wrenches its last drops. “Brought to Ruin” lights up, driving with force, screams maiming as the pace stirs. “I am the whispers that guide you,” emanates softly amid the force, glorious leads riding out of that, the leads igniting and coating everything in gold. “Warchild” gallops like early Maiden, blistering as the vocals go for broke, cooling down as castle-storming riffs gain strength. The playing bursts and bleeds colors, the drums gut, and shrieks peel back flesh as the final elements deliver majestic force. “Radiant One” opens humidly, your face coated with sweat, growls and shrieks intermingling, the mighty chorus rushing at you like a breakaway stream. 

“Breaking of the Sword” has howls ripping and speed splattering, an absolute onslaught heading toward you with little room for safety. Melodic guitars rocket as the spirit of battle races through your veins, surging with fiery energy. “The Skyless World” is a little moodier to start, guitars spreading out, numbing your senses before all hell breaks loose, and raucous fire and NWOBHM-flavored strikes jar your brain. Strange speaking emerges, taking on a timeless void, and then the murk clears into blistering fireworks, molten leads washing over. “Blood Upon the Blade” has humid guitars and the growls crushing wills, unhinged cries then taking control. The rhythm is drubbing and the guitars boil dangerously, charging toward a blaring end. Closer “Stars That Guide the Slain” is elegant and mighty, screams scraping, fluid melodies making your heart race. The bass tramples, and screams ravage, a beastly burst taking you over, howls snarling as the final moments scorch.

Weald & Woe again make your juices flow with manic death metal twisted with power metal on “Far From the Light of Heaven.” Three albums in, and it’s clear this band is focused and channeled, creating sounds that could topple castle walls, liberating people from iron fists. This is glorious and energetic, the perfect music for our times when we could use a few new battle anthems.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/album/far-from-the-light-of-heaven

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