Death metal has undergone a very significant shift the past decade, the sounds expanding and creating new branches that are bound to be nurturing as the ones that fed the current era of bands. That’s kept the sub-genre not only continually breeding new artists but also keeping the sound sharp, focused, and bloody.

Danish crushers Phrenelith have been a part of that movement, circulating a few levels deeper than, say, a Tomb Mold or Blood Incantation but still doing their part to strengthen an art form that is a warped and ugly as any. On their mangling and fiery third record “Ashen Womb,” they build on the foundation they laid down over the past decade and added more muscle and sinew, as well as some inventive and nightmarish bends that jar your guts. The band—guitarist/vocalist Simon Daniel, guitarist/vocalist David, bassist Jakob, drummer Andreas Nordgreen—twists things to their will, again displaying why they deserve more credit and hopefully find those accolades on this record.

“Noemata” is a gloomy, yet battering instrumental opener, setting the stage to the fire that lies ahead, which greets us wholly on “Astral Larvae.” Vicious growls devastate while the playing could melt steel beams, turning into a infernal force that rips with violent intent and utter demolition. “A Husk Wrung Dry” trudges before it takes on speed, ugly smearing making blood and dirt combine, an Earth-crunching tempo leaving broken bodies behind. The leads menace as the playing continues to ramp up the intensity, melodies bleeding over scraping growls. “Lithopaedion” rips and slashes, growls curdling, the playing penetrating the senses and squeezing you mentally. Warped melodies hover, uniting with sooty growls, the guitars breathing fire as everything ends in rubble. “Nebulae” is eerie and darker, and even when the violence breaks through the surface, there remains a sense of strange unease. Clouds form to add splashes of gray as the drums combust, clean tones mixing in with sharp steel chaos, dissolving into a cosmic void.

“Stagnated Blood” rips open, guitars spiraling, a gutting force slicing right through midsections and spilling innards on the floor. The leads make the room spin, growls delivering disgust and filth, the storming pace continuing to devastate before merging with a haze and bleeding into “Sphageion,” a strange interlude with eerie guitar work, pattering drums, and an alien finish. “Chrysopoeia” opens with guitars fully dominating, crunching and chewing, the growls punishing as speed gains control. The playing rains down with force, melodies sprawling through throat-shredding growls, gushing melodies, and a molten end that scorches flesh. The closing title track runs 9:56 and develops a strange aura, mixing into crushing blasts, mauling growls, and a thrashy tempo that makes blood pulse. The leads entangle as the drums attack, and a clobbering flood makes waters boil, an apocalyptic scene drowning everything as the final strains slowly drain into hell.

Phrenelith slowly have been honing their death metal chops over the past decade and their previous two full-lengths, but “Ashen Womb” pushes them even further into the upper echelon. This is a lung-blowing record that has moments of strangeness and space-age darkness intertwined with sinewy death. This is a hammer blow worth sustaining, even if it leaves you mentally and physically drained well after the music ends.

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

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

Or here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/phrenelith-ashen-womb-vinyl/

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

And here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/

We have plenty of people, regardless of party, to blame for the bullshit we’re enduring for the second fucking time for fuck sake. But very close to the top is turtle-face, cunt neck Mitch McConnel who is likely to stroke out at a presser before he tries to flex any geriatric muscle again. But he’s a worm of human times, and he deserves a shit-in-mouth demise.

I’m trying to do more record submissions this year, so when I got an entry on my Bluesky account, I could not say no to a band called Cocaine Mitch. Because that Mitch is … yeah. That fucking guy. If there was a real hell, Mitch would be gargling lava and poison as his turtle dick goes through a mixer. Dreamt in joking fashion but now committed forever to the digital landscape by creator Robby Grodin, these 10 tracks on “An Act of Violence,” slashes back at the system that created this situation and comically honestly. It also brutally assaults the gears that made this nightmare possible. The approach is menacing grind with a healthy injection of samples that add meaning and anger to the songs. Perfect.

“The Anti-Fascist Family Soup Kitchen” opens with a news clip about, wait for it, a police officer accused of a crime and not yet charged, and then guitar heat launches, rampaging through fiery chaos, slashing before the playing speeds away. “Cis Death Squad” starts with a piece from Rep. Zooey Zephyr (D, Montana) standing up for trans and intersex folks, and then we’re into a full-blown blaze, the playing stopping and starting to tease your heart, beastly howls breaking through and charging into devastation. “Hey Man Bad Shot,” obviously a reference to the Filter song of a similar name, pummels and terrifies, howls curdling before the pace slows and grinds gears. Guitars fire up again as the ambiance gets stranger, mind-melting wails scorching fully. “Kill Yr Rapist” features guest appearances by Sarah “Ribz” Ribeiro and Tim “Potatoes” McGrath, and this is the filthy, unforgiving piece you’d expect from the title, the command gang shouted into oblivion. “A Brick to the Face of a Forced Birther” begins with a great Roland Martin clip where he lashes against pro-birth scum who only give a fuck when an embryo is in a womb. Machine-gun blasts smother, beastly growls peeling back flesh, smashing heavily with humid power.

“A Detailed Treatise on the Many Benefits of Trickle Down Economics” is a quick interlude with noise and madness, mimicking the reality of the concept they’re sending up. Wonder when that money is going to fall to us. Hmm. “AxCxAxB” contains a sample of Sen. John Kennedy (R, Louisiana) spouting off about the “dangers” of defunding police forces, and he sounds like the pig he is, slobbering over his words. The playing is doomy and chugging, absolutely unloading as growls scar, guitars race, and chaos blaring right into the face of “The Cokening.” That features Pomme Fritz and has beats clobbering, weird noises making your brain boil, and warped lines from McConnell, sounding like the froze at another presser, warbling bizarre thoughts. “(I’m Going) Democrazy” explodes, guitars lathering, the pace chugging, and howls battering you thoroughly. The heat takes over and drives the force into the ground, bleeding out into the dirt. Closer “Cocaine 77” is the weirdest, most fucked-up take on Eric “Asshole” Clapton’s hit, splattering with cartoon horrors, goo dripping from Mitch’s flesh lap of a neck, and the final blows dealt against a substandard enemy.

Cocaine Mitch is so terrifyingly well timed, it’s almost scary. Though I think we all knew the miasma of hell we were headed into it after the damned 2024 election, and this collection of songs hits on just about every inhuman and despicable thing going on right now. Grodin has a stranglehold on mockery, fury, and revenge, three actions we’ll need an abundance of going forward if we want to get through. Plus the songs rip, and the cover is fucking hilarious, and fuck Mitch McConnell and all the bullshit he enabled. Drink piss, loser.

For more on the band, go here: https://cocainemitch.bandcamp.com/album/an-act-of-violence

To buy the album, go here: https://www.haulofhorror.com/products/cocaine-mitch-an-act-of-violence-digipack-pre-order

Living in a body can be a strange experience. Essentially, we’re locked inside shells as our minds and essences develop, and it can be a struggle to be OK with these meats suits and what they look like. Living in our society doesn’t make this any easier as pressure is applied hard on how we’re expected to look. Social  media turned that into a world-engulfing blaze.

Venomous Echoes is a black/death metal force helped by sole creator Ben Vanweelden, and over the course of this project, he has examined issues of body dysmorphia and horrors. On his third album “Dysmor,” there is sweeping, dramatic chaos dripped over these six tracks and 46 minutes, and the mental pressures and devastation are layered thick, which makes sense. I also suffer from body dysmorphia, and the connections I was able to make psychologically and even physically is brutal yet kind of healing. This record continues the plot of its two predecessors, and this time the protagonist is exposed to horrific images and visons, things that must be overcome to reach the world of Malcloid.

“Wall of Memories and Despair” dawns in a cacophony of sounds and sax slashing, doomy fury trudging through mean, monstrous territory that bends your nerves. Raw fury mixes with jazzy guitar lines, howls crumbing as a cosmic edge slices through, shrieks maiming and leaving mental damage. The title track crushes right off the bat, guitars bending and spiraling, smearing into woozy terrain where you feel like you’re losing touch. Guitars lather as eeriness blends into a time warp, death snarls, and increasing weirdness ends in echo. “Groped by Spectres” has guitars dashing and wrapping around corners, leads damaging minds, savagery crashing into mechanical hell and tortured wails. Tricky leads turn the screws, with the shrieks sickening as sounds hover and escape.

“Broken” has keys falling, strange melodies icing wounds, and then suddenly you’re buried in molten thickness. The playing stomps, a total maniacal fury that has no mercy, howls pouring devastation in generous quantities, piano fluttering, darkness dancing over volcanic ash. “Defeated and Withered Creation” has the guitars catching on fire instantly, punishing with speed and mangled steel, your brain tingling from the wild blast of zany death. Howls hiss as the room feels like it’s spinning dangerously, mashing as sounds zap, chugging through synth heat. Closer “The Begetter” runs 12:06, sax sliding in, a chilling front floating and making you shiver, the brutality finally served in hulking manner. The guitars cut as the howls slice into bone, the pace chugging as sooty, viscous streams flow, sickened screams leading way to inconsolable sobbing. Guitars blare anew as the tempo charges, a synth fog envelopes, keys dripping into oblivion.

Pain and trauma, especially as it relates to our bodies, can drive one to the edges of sanity, and Venomous Echoes punch into those uncomfortable areas. “Dysmor” delves into those dark corners where you try to process what you’re feeling, and sometimes that’s enough to slip further underneath. For Vanweelden, it’s looking into the Malcloid to fight to a better means of existence that doesn’t constantly gnaw at your brain.

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

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

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

For more on the label, go here: https://i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/

I feel like this could be a boilerplate introduction for this site, but things have been dark and stormy for a lot of us for a long time. And it doesn’t appear to show signs of stopping. In what’s alleged to be the greatest country in the world, things are so unbalanced that people are at the end of their rope, and there is bloodshed the world over.

Digging into “Recover What You Can,” the third record from Pittsburgh brawlers Negative 13, and you can tell they’ve lived it too. The band’s brand of doom, hardcore, and metal is a force to behold live, and on this album, they translate that feeling as effectively as they ever have. Over six tracks and 33 minutes, the band—vocalist Scott Fisher, guitarist Edward Banchs, bassist Mary Bielich (Derketa, ex-Mythic), drummer Chip Reynolds—unloads both sonically and emotionally. The pain and suffering, the confusion and anger are all over this thing, and you can feel the gritty gears tearing into your psyche, identifying your struggle, and also hopefully showing you a way to climb out.

“The Desolate” is a strange, doomy, cloudy intro cut, setting the dark tones and sprawling into “Casket Trail” that immediately lands punches. The aura is mucky, Fisher’s howls encircling, the intensifying smoke making your vision strangely compromised. Riffs snarl as the pace begins to gallop harder, punishing as growls smack, and relentless chugging leaves deep muscle bruising. “The Vulture Circles” surges with guitars glistening and teasing, the words spat as the bass playing flexes its muscle, Fisher’s wail of, “Set me free!” rippling down your spine. “See my life melt away, but I’m not ready to leave,” Fisher declares, the playing piling on hardcore-style intensity, the final cry of “Pick yourself up!” resonating and disappearing into murk.

“Horizon Divides” has blurry playing that works into muscular jarring, the temps dropping as Fisher’s singing layers with emotion. “I have this constant feeling like I’ve been here before,” he laments, as the moodiness clashes with a ripping pace that knifes into the center, feeling beastly and slashing as is melts way. “Devil In Your Head” is charged up and jerky, talk singing adding to the abrasive nature, and then some speed that teams with a psychedelic wash. The playing begins to gut, growing more violent and disruptive, yells echoing as the ambiance feels like Neurosis’ early years, Fisher lashing, “You don’t really know me!” The closing title track is faster out of the gates, howls echoing, a gazey heat thickening and making breather tougher. A hypnotic force washes over the cut, the vocals stretching over that, the title howled deep from the gut. The pace continues to elevate, steam rising as if from a scalding hot bath, blazing out into steam.

It’s a rough time out there for a lot of people, and Negative 13 seem to capture that tug of war of emotions on “Recover What You Can.” Everything packed into these six songs come front loaded with emotion and grit, seeing your misery and struggle and responding with music that can accompany you into your mental battles. Or, if you’re just here to get crushed, you have more than enough to leave you bruised for weeks on end.

For more on the band, go here: https://negative13.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://negative13.bandcamp.com/album/recover-what-you-can

The adoration for 1990s death metal doesn’t seem to be losing steam, and why should it? The formative years that boasted the likes of Morbid Angel, Suffocation, Immolation, Bolt Thrower, and so many others continue to spawn new species in the death metal terrain that connect roots with one or more of the progenitors.

Finnish death metal maulers Aedes smash a whole lot of bloody affection for that era on their debut mini-album “Odius Imprecation,” originally released digitally last fall and now getting a physical version via Blood Harvest. Over a ferocious and skull-dragging 25 minutes, the band—vocalist Riku Ryynänen, guitarists Antti Luoto and Juha-Matti Ojanperä, bassist Atte Roppola, drummer/synth player Marten Gustafsson—centers itself square in the graveyard, with cauldrons steaming, bloody pathways following.

“Heretical Birth” begins thrashy with gruff vocals, the playing decimating with blazing speed. The battering continues as ash piles up dangerously, swimming in flames as the howls echo and mash, leaving infernal punishment waiting for you. “Portraits of Hell” crushes as guitars race, the screams corroding. The playing turns grim and doomy, the vocals scraping as guitars spiral, atmospheric agony choking with strange visions, a fiery outro consuming as the drums menace with hellish intent. “Merging Into Madness” dawns with insects swarming, guitars channeling fear, and then a seismic charge pushes into chaos. Harsh, beastly howls dig under the rib cage while spacey keys emerge and add a cooling agent, letting the cleaner tones make your brain tingle. But the violence returns, unleashing a grisly pace that chews muscle, driving through mystical fury that makes you feel insane. Closer “Cosmic Void Decay” chugs and swims through glass, the vocals turning animalistic, raw, and blistering, jabs making greater impact. The smeary doom has a Celtic Frost feel, meanwhile the leads erupt as scathing, nightmarish reality unfolds, the mesmerizing clean lines making blood go cold, a final blast of drubbing loose teeth from jaws.

For those who didn’t get on board with Aedes’ debut mini-album “Odius Imprecation” later in 2024, now is your chance to indulge in more 90s death metal worship that sounds like it belongs with that vintage. It’s grim, punishing, and at times spacey, giving a lot of different directions they can pursue deeper as they continue to develop as a unit. This wider release should help expose them to more like-minded people who don’t mind stomping through the muck to get the death barrage they desperately seek.

For more on the band, go here: https://aedesmetal.bandcamp.com/album/odious-imprecation

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

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

Lord living fuck, I forgot how haywire it is when that shitbag is in office, and every five minutes he’s committing a crime against humanity. Therapy session was particularly intense this week, and it’s hard not to just want to scream constantly. Marijuana is the answer and so, it would appear, is Weed Demon.

The smoked-out sludge doom crushers return with their third record “The Doom Scroll,” and could they have selected a better title for a record dropping in the hell times? Part 2. This five-track (six if you have the vinyl version, which is hidden at the end) astronaut is perfect mind-blazing fodder for smoking up and trying to think about anything other than reality. The band—vocalist/bassist Jordan Holland, guitarists/vocalists Andy Center and Brian Buckley, drummer Nick Carter—mashes their smoldering, stoner doom that swaggers as hard as it pummels, making for a great escape from your life.

“Acid Dungeon” is an instrumental opener with a slick synth gaze, feeling spooky and borderline horror movie score. The playing shivers and haunts, moving into “Tower of Smoke” that powers with lapping guitars encircling and punchy rhythmic blows. The pace trudges and leaves soot, the playing allowing the heat to bubble dangerously, the instrumental piece burning off into other dimensions. “Coma Dose” chills with noiry playing, the singing warbling as things grow more molten, growls ripping in to pull at guts, with Funerals’ Shy Kennedy adding her own smoking, muscular voice. Things get more grisly as the harsh vocals mix with slurry singing, continuing to build momentum as mud cakes the gears. The bass trudges as the growls strengthen their grip, battering with a mucky intensity that blurs into the night.

“Roasting the Sacred Bones,” which would make Frank Reynolds psyched, starts with clean guitars glazing, a cosmic spiral taking you off into the cosmos, the riffs ruling with barked growls slashing over top. The playing gives off a humid Black Tusk vibe, your senses battered even as acoustic strains come in to offer some cooling, the thrashy energy catching fire and burning relentlessly. “Dead Planet Blues” is the closer, kind of, depending on your format. Acoustics and sun-stained guitars launch, the slide playing adding a strange warmth, the power engulfing. Clean guitar traces color in the riff pockets, guitars dashing through a spacey exhaust that spirals into oblivion. If you have the vinyl version, the album ends with a cover of Frank Zappa’s 1969 classic “Willie the Pimp” that they remake in their own image, keeping the bluesy madness and adding their own ferocity.

Weed Demon’s electrified, smoke-filled haze is thick and alluring as ever on “The Doom Scroll,” a record that might make you do less phone strangling and more immersion in mind-altering substances. You can do a lot worse for yourself as we’re back in the era of insane news every 5 minutes, so this distraction into the cosmos just might be what your ailing nerves desire. This is a brain-frying, clobbering record that’ll let you space out but also will leave unexpected bruising.

For more on the band, go here: https://smokeweeddemon.bandcamp.com/album/the-doom-scroll

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://www.gloryordeathrecords.com/shop/electric-valley-records

Or here (Europe): https://www.electricvalleyrecords.com/product/weed-demon-the-doom-scroll

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

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

It’s easy to fall into the murk of what the global condition has become. Misinformation has surpassed truth in so many parts of the world that we may finally have achieved fiction as a present state. Fascist leaders are rising to power, including one of the worst, yet comically inept here in my country. Do we want to die? Because this is how you fucking die.

UK black metal force Abduction also see the darkness, the sea of untruth, and they attack that reality on their thunderous new record “Existentialismus,” their fifth overall. Here, the blistering voice led by originator A|V (there’s a full band here, but I’ll be damned if I can find a reliable lineup) explodes with infernal energy and destructive force, practically matching the rising danger that we can feel around us. The record is as punishing as the band’s previous work, but there is more flexibility now, especially vocally as some clean vocals found their way into the mix. It’s a welcome enhancement, something that cuts back on the chaos and adds new dexterity that makes the music more interesting.

“A Legacy of Sores” rips this record open, the savagery already off the charts even as melody swims downstream. The howls crush as guitars tingle, holding a brief place for a breather before the volcanic activity bubbles over again. Throaty cries grip as atmospheric leads bring this to a numbing end. “Pyramidia Liberi” has riffs coating steel, as a storming pace floods liberally, the rhythmic assault driving full force ahead as blood curdles. The playing continues to bind, A|V’s voice buzzes like an agitated nest, and the pace trounces as the cry of, “Messenger of death!” rings out. “Truth Is as Sharp a Sword as Vengeance” has  A|V expanding his voice, singing cleanly though darkness, the playing charging before screams return to add more menace. The playing pushes and pulls from brutal to more nuanced, singing sharing space with demonic wails, the intensity beginning to jackhammer with intensity, a stream-of-consciousness style bloodletting taking over as exhaust slips.

“Blau ist die Farbe der Ewigkeit” tears away, its teeth sinking into flesh, the playing then growing thrashier with deep black metal waves pulling everything under the surface. The pace races, clean singing bellowing, a colorful vortex swallowing you whole, disappearing into a mound of ash. “Razors of Occam” opens and blurs your eyes, the pace going a little more delicately than what preceded it, the singing eventually paving the way for muscular growls. The playing turns pitch black and tornadic, getting heavier and more violent as the seconds tick away, speedy strikes meeting up with melodic gushing, disappearing under a sheet of ice. Closer “Vomiting at Baalbek” is the closer, and it runs a healthy 11:10, rushing in from a storm surge, viciousness and atmosphere becoming odd partners, A|V howling, “Only death is real!” The pace dizzies, dashing through richly sung lines and barbaric screams, melodic leads adding some salve to the bruising. Guitars flush as more black metal force explodes, the jangling melodies playing tricks with your sanity and signaling a punishing end.

We’re full swing into a world where nothing seems to matter other than whatever bullshit someone smears on the internet, and truth and evidence never have been more meaningless. It’s a bleak, hopeless horizon at which we’re staring, and Abduction make that a little more volatile, offering a sobering dose of truth serum on “Existentialismus.” Darkness is thickening, our society is crumbling, and music like this reminds us we all need to take a step back and decide what humanity should look like and what we’re prepared to do to make sure that becomes a reality.

For more of the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/abduction616/

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://spinefarm.merchnow.com/collections/candlelight-records-1

Or here (Europe): https://candlelightrecords.tmstor.es/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.candlelightrecords.co.uk/

Hibernation, while not a human activity, surely can be understood by most people when the winter months have taken root, as they have now. Wanting to tuck away in the dark, resting and recharging, taking solace in our warm homes stand in such contract from how most of us are in the summer, it’s like we’re two different beings.

“Birna” is the new album from Nordic folk power Wardruna, and here, on their sixth full-length, they play with themes of hibernation, awakening, and decay. In Old Norse, birna stands for she-bear, and the band—Einar Selvik (formerly of Gorgoroth and Sahg), Lindy-Fay Hella, Eilif Gundersen, HC Dalgaard, Sondre Veland, John Stenersen, Arne Sandvoll—pays homage to that creature, natural life cycles, and the majesty of nature. Yet, deep in the woods, there also is unrest, a calling out for the return of its true spirit, a plea before it, too, succumbs. That makes this 10-track, 66-minute opus one that thrives with excitement and instrumental celebration, the darkness seeping into your pore. This album features guest appearances by Koret Artemis (choir), Jonna Jinton (vocals, field recordings), Hans Fredrik Jacobsen (willow-bark flute), Kenneth Lien (Jaw-harp), and Iver Sandøy (backing vocals).

“Hertan” opens with a heartbeat pulsating, speaking growing with intensity, group calls flourishing as chants follow behind. Everything swells as hearty melodies strike deep, ending in spiritual gaze. The title track collects strings and horns, the singing pushing into your bloodstream, gang calls uniting with a forestal chill. Drums pump as the horns are ablaze, the spirited jolt pushing off into the deep woods. “Ljos til Jord” has waters rushing, female choral voices icing flesh, whistles picking up along with a percussive dash. Strings ache as the spirit enters your system, the singing cresting as strings bite. “Dvaledraumar” is the longest track at 15:28, woodwinds calling as raw singing layers, a cavernous gust leading to a calmer, eerier section lying in wait, dulcimer plinks and strong singing uniting to make the surroundings burst with life. The melodies rush and then hypnotize, the strings glazing, pastoral choirs increasing the mood, sounds dripping and drums echoing as Hella’s calls ripple through veins, wafting into the cold. “Jord til Ljos” is bled into, the singing from the aforementioned carrying over, strings and choruses bringing the ritual to life. Woodsy chants haunt as whistle swim, birds chirp, and the final push leads to a resting place in the tall grass.

“Himinndotter” immediately awakens with rousing voices, a collection of calls gathering one spirit, drums punching full force as the pace jolts. The playing keeps gaining momentum, the singing coating and layering, unveiling an ancient essence. “Hibjørnen” delivers naked acoustics, Selvik’s voice taking on a filthier tone, the song getting richer as it goes. Then things turn bare bones, a rustic and sparse presentation allowing space for your mind to wander. “Skuggehesten” has thunder rolling in, the playing galloping as the drums prod, strings and horns adding to the jerky pace. The singing grows more stern, misty breaths bellowing from mouths, the energy marching and pumping, whispers swirling into the distance. “Tretale” enters amid drums stomping, acoustics washing over, spoken words tracing as group singing emerges. The tempo kicks into higher gear, the darkness luring you toward the fires, strings collecting, the wintry frost freezing faces. Closer “Lyfjaberg” starts with winds brushing and chants rising, drums echoing as a rhythmic path stomps its boots into the ground. The volume also manages to burst, the group singing swirling, heart-felt playing making your heart rush, hand drumming pattering as the sun sets.

The frosty ambiance and mesmerizing creations Wardruna committed to “Birna” make for perfect listening at this time of the year, when deep freeze is at our gates, and we, similar to the bear, find comfortable places in order to recharge and avoid the unforgiving weather. OK, so we don’t hibernate, but we can get lost in these songs and the visions they create in your mind, letting you also take some time away from your hectic lifestyle to align with nature and take a mental rest. I might need to pack myself into a cave until 2028 at the very earliest, and this record would be a perfect companion for an intermediate death that sparks renewal. 

For more of the band, go here: https://www.wardruna.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://wardrunashop.com/en/

There’s a lot of heaviness in the air, dread, and yeah celebration for some, but it has to feel awfully dark there too. Deep down. Now more than ever, we could use positive distractions, something that doesn’t warp our understanding of what’s outside our doors but at least can let us escape mentally for a little bit. Allow us to take a deep breath now and again.

Denver-based metallic instrumental force Abandons arrive with their debut full-length “Liminal Heart,” and over four tracks, you’re lambasted with epic, doomy, post-metal-style drama that shakes the blood in your body. The creations here can provide that aforementioned gust into your imagination, opening a portal in your mind for you to slip into and let your agitated nerves cool. The band—guitarist/samplist Brenton Dwyer, bassist Ben Rosenberg, drummer/synth player/samplist Samuel Mowat—certainly has strains of titans such as ISIS, Neurosis, and Pelican, but there’s also more adventurous bends here and some delicacy that cools the jets when needed. It’s an album that can stimulate planning your escape, at least in your brain, and remind you there still can be positivity to mine.

“Habitats” begins in a wave of cosmic doom, driving harder as a voice sample talks of the surveillance state and a general sense of unease as technology expands. The heaviness becomes a bigger factor, crushing wills, gazey layers hanging over the crunch as a thick bassline flexes, heading into choppier waters. Melody emerges as a moody atmosphere takes hold, and then the leads catch fire and ricochet away. “Saudade” brings sounds gushing, guitars floating over a Floyd-like psychedelic stretch, letting your mind wander. Keys chill as the power jolts, slide guitars entering to add a hint of sun-stained emotion, the playing soaring before bowing out to static.

“New Mysteries” enters amid quotes about lucid dreaming, sending you into immersive cloud coverage and a near-semi-conscious state that generates warmth. The guitars fire and then cool, letting off breezes that soothe scarred flesh, the pressure building into an ambient burst. Guitars crunch as a whirring force picks up momentum, fading into a thick mist. “Smiling in the Midst of Two Armies” is the closer, a 16:53-long beast that bleeds into guitars awakening, rousing slightly as sounds drip, the drums tracing steps. Then the gargantuan split occurs, jolting and jostling, squeezing with dynamic force, the sludge elements getting stickier and more impenetrable. The guitars chug harder and then pull back, soundtracking strains of J. Robert Oppenheimer’s classic 1945 speech that discusses the impact of the atomic bomb and the deadly consequences of its existence. It’s both sobering and chilling, the playing gradually building into a volcanic force, an electric haze gasping, wooshing, the Oppenheimer quote, “I am become death, the destroyer of worlds,” repeating as noise spirals out into oblivion.

An escape from reality would be a welcomed thing, and Abandons aren’t necessarily trying to distract you from real life, but “Liminal Heart” can help get you there as it spreads its imaginative wings. This is immersive and arresting, and if instrumental doom is your thing like it is mine, it does provide a launching point for diving into something that doesn’t erode you mind and heart. This should keep your lungs working overtime, your blood coursing through your veins, and your mind considering something that isn’t world killing and just might help you rise above the misery.

For more of the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/abandonsmusic

To buy the album, go here: https://abandons.bandcamp.com/album/liminal-heart

This is the first review that will be written after the crowning of one of the world’s least capable fascists, a man who lives in rot and shame and hates himself, so we must now all feel that. It was kind of obvious that the release I chose for today is a meaningful selection. This is a band that stands against the agenda about to rule this country.

“Passages” is a new five-track EP by sludge doom warriors Sunrot, this acting as a pathway from where they were on “The Unfailing Rope” (the session that also bore these songs) to wherever they’re headed next. And no matter where that is, it’s likely to be a decidedly darker place, one where greed is the real god. Sunrot remain steadfast in what they fight for, and the band—vocalist/noisemaker Lex Santiago, guitarists Christopher Eustaquio and Rob Gonzalez, bassist Ross Bradley, drummer Alex Dobrowolski—refuses to go quietly but also adds some glimmers of hope that despite what we all face, there can be something positive that can rise from those ashes.

“Death Knell” opens with sounds buzzing, darkness eroding comfort, voices pushing through the confusion, strange transmissions ending with a clanging doom bell. “The First Wound” rips open with guitars taunting, Santiago’s howls destroying, and sounds warping and challenging madness. Dylan Walker from Full of Hell also makes his presence felt here, and he and Santiago navigate through the endless carnage, wild howls tearing down inhibitions, a sudden burst of speed crushing on its way out the door. “Sleep” brings noises ricocheting, the atmosphere squeezing, aching rhythmic pounding making your breathing accelerate, everything bleeding into chaos. “Untethered” brings lathering guitars, Jack Carino’s cello mixing in with the spirits, the track turning into a shadowy figure that lurks mysteriously. Shrieks maul as the playing turns into a molten force, rippling and pounding, dark melodies slipping into mysterious corners, strings scraping away the first layer of flesh. “Ra” closes, and it has sounds penetrating, a recording of late musician Sun Ra speaking of the positivity of music and its ability to create new worlds and dreams. It provides an warm ending to an eclectic array of creations that can make one feel like trying again and refusing to succumb to worldly pressures.

As we await the next Sunrot full-length, “Passages” feels like a proper appetizer, one that couples the band’s sludgy doom with electronic experimentation to an even greater level.  As we move into a volatile and surely crueler world, having positive sentiments and reasons to carry on will be as important as ever. Will a five-track EP pull you out of that? Not entirely, but it’s a way to help you build a foundation as you prepare to face society that sees many of us as the enemy.

For more of the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/sunrotmusic

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

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