Photo by Ebru Yildiz

Being that we congregate here because of metal and extreme music, most of us are bound to be attracted to dark, damaged characters. While it once was unheard of to express vulnerability and hurt, those have become common elements that have helped turn a once solely barbaric terrain into one that has made some room for compassion.

These qualities also have pushed our tastes and interests beyond just heavy metal and into other areas that share some of the same qualities. One artist who has always been on the perimeter philosophically is Marissa Nadler, whose dark folk has attracted a nice portion of the more open-minded metal audience. Yes, she collaborated with Xasthur in the past, but that’s not her only in. Her music often is ghostly, haunting, and more painful than a spike from some dude’s wristband to the eye, and it sure can make you cry harder. Nadler’s music might be a far from metal as one can get sonically, but thematically, she’s right there in the middle of the nightmare. Her new record “Strangers” is her seventh full-length overall, and it is arguably her best. It also provides a bit of a change for her as the music doesn’t focus quite as much on her own life but on characters that comprise these tales.

The last couple years since Nadler’s excellent last record “July,” lots of things have changed in her life. She tackled some of her personal demons and got married to a longtime love who had been the subject of some of her most heartbreaking material in the past (I highly recommend the feature story Spin just did on her, which is excellent). Now on “Strangers,” it seems like the title of the record is on purpose, as she examines other people and other situations not necessarily her own, and she does an amazing job conveying their emotions. Musically, she sounds as free and inspired as ever before, and each song on this album stands alone, and has its own unique DNA. She again worked with producer Randall Dunn (Sunn 0))), Wolves in the Throne Room, Earth, Black Mountain), who really understands her sound and helps her make an ideal sounding record.

“Divers of the Dust” opens the record amid echoing piano and Nadler’s voice reverberating, pouring emotion into the song and causing it to swell at each end. “You were the bullet in my gun, I was your man,” she calls, practically driving a dagger through your chest. “Katie I Know” has a nice, warm ’70s feel, folk-led with soft flutes, but also some psyche-washed keys that disorient. “I can bury this heart of mine,” she levels, as haunting melodies, thick strings, and quivering sensations hammer this song home. The chorus is one that will etch itself in your head and never leave. Not that you’ll want it to exit. “Skyscraper” is acoustically picked, with Nadler delivering breathier vocals, often harmonizing with herself, and some electric charges jab the edges later, with the song bleeding away. “Hungry Is the Ghost” is like a wintry haze, with layered strings drizzled, guitars weeping, and a country vibe to it. Psychedelics swim, as Nadler calls, “Hungry is the ghost inside of me,” as the song fades into the mist. “All the Colors of the Dark” is a great song, one of the best in Nadler’s catalog, and it starts so disarmingly. It feels like a lullaby at first, with Nadler leveling, “This is not your world anymore.” But just when you think it’s going to stay where it’s at, the gorgeous chorus arrives, simply comprised of Nadler calling back the title, but it is arresting. Just a fantastic song.

The title track then arrives, a song with guitars floating, thick pedal steel adding even more feelings, and the music echoing and dripping all over Nadler’s words. “Janie in Love” is another interesting character study, with Nadler poking, “You’re a natural disaster,” amid sounds buzzing and noire-rich guitars adding a nice sepia shade. The chorus bursts with life, with Nadler again repeating the title, and it all ends in a mind-glazing sheen that lulls you into serenity. “Waking” seems like what its title indicates, the first moments when returning to consciousness, as her guitar loops and she sings in such a manner that she’s practically inviting you back to dream again. “Shadow Show Diane” has blusier guitar licks, with Nadler playing storyteller, her character keeping secrets about a mysterious figure who has become a major part of the person’s nights. It’s tough to tell if that’s out of loneliness, dissatisfaction, or excitement. Maybe a combo of all three. It’s understated in spots, which gives it that much more power as it moves along. “Nothing Feels the Same” is smeared with sadness, with organs swelling, her voice pushing along softly, and allowing the chorus to rise up and flood into the scene. Closer “Dissolve” arrives softly, with acoustics plucked, and Nadler lamenting, “I am another body in this town.” But it’s not all downhill, as she finds hope as the song moves along, and as the track tips toward hearty folk territory, she softly admits, “You never bring me down,” which is something I always feel about her and her music.

It’s no secret Nadler is a major favorite of ours at this site, and “Strangers” only swells that adulation to even greater heights. Nadler has been through her own battles, emerged from the other side, and appears to be a stronger musician and person as a result. This record might not be heavy sonically, but it will batter your heart and soul.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.sacredbonesrecords.com/products/sbr148-marissa-nadler-strangers

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

Pain and darkness seem to be major elements of what a lot of artists we feature here face. It’s part of the territory, considering much of this music is ensconced in ugliness and terror, so those who make genuine contributions to this art form feel that a little heavier than most.

For someone such as Dehn Sora, he’s been able to spread his morbid work over two forms of the metal medium. As a graphic artist, his creations have adorned collections from artists as rich as Ulver, Blut Aus Nord, and Church of Ra, and he also has added his musical chops to bands including Treha Sektori, Sembler Deah, and Ovtrenoir. But now the French artist is taking matters into his own hands musically with his new project Throane, whose debut record “Derrière Nous La Lumière” is being released by the always eclectic, typically foreboding Debemur Morti. As references, there is pain, darkness, and torment spread over these seven songs, and the delivery is foggy and menacing, leading you into mysterious corners and strange patches of murk.

While black metal at its core, there is plenty of experimentation, industrial smoke, and dissonant fire, and it’ll be pretty easy to make comparisons to bands such as Blut Aus Nord and Deathspell Omega. In fact, sometimes the music sounds a little too close to those forces, whether that’s on purpose or purely by accident, that it can blend into the bulk of what’s already out there when it comes to this sound. Yet, there’s certainly something intriguing going on beneath the surface, special qualities that give Sora a voice that extends beyond those bands and carves tributaries solely his own. It’s a pretty cool adventure, this album, and each listen tends to peel back layers unexposed on previous trips.

“Sortez Vos Lames, Que Nous Perdions Nos Poings” kicks off the record with noise wafting, unsettling guitars, and then the tempo catching fire and charging, only to have it cool off moments later. Wild howls then tear into the room, folding into chaotic noise that spreads out and fades away. “Aussi Féroces Que Nous Repentons” has chilling guitar and whispered passages lurking beneath the din, and then the music begins to float, with the vocals sounding like they’re cutting through your head. Listen to this on headphones to get the full effect. It’s pretty damn unsettling. Feral grunts precede the song entering an eerie silence that has guitars spitting out of the other end, and a damaged melody meets up with a renewed sense of chaos. The title cut is swirling and dizzying, with the fury building and the music stinging. Dissonant strangeness slips in, with the music disorienting, and the back end of the song spreads noise over the last minutes, like a droning airplane engine hanging overhead.

“Un Instant Dans Une Torche” has noise grinding and furious cries, with the sounds clashing as if going to electronic war, and the song stretching and reverberating. Suddenly, the track slips into sludgy madness, with your head spinning crazily, and the final moments driving into a mud pit. “Contre Terre” is a strange one, a track built mostly on ambiance that sounds ghostly and cold. It seems like an ominous fog is settling over everything, before guitars launch and stab wildly into the dark. “Nous Blâmons La Tempête De Nous Avoir Laissés En Plaies” lets the guitars churn and give off rubber fire smoke, while the tempo pounds and melts away. The sounds bounce all over and have a threatening vibe, and that pays off later when guitars re-emerge, maim dangerously, and then disappear into a sonic sizzle. Closer “A Cette Chute” starts with noises ringing like a bell, almost as if it’s trying to hypnotize. Suddenly, throaty growls gouge away, while the music feels like a ghoul circulating around your head, and the track dissolves into a thick halo of sounds.

Sora has something interesting here with Throane, and as time goes on and his music develops, it would be nice to hear him strengthen his own qualities. The ferocity and abysmal terror is present on “Derrière Nous La Lumière,” and it’s thick and massive, like a dark force lurking in the corner of the room that you cannot see but you know is threatening. This nightmarish collection is just step one for Throane, so who knows what horrible chambers we’ll enter on future journeys?

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.debemur-morti.com/en/12-eshop

For more on the label, go here: http://www.debemur-morti.com/

Death, obviously, is a primary tenet of metal. It’s everywhere, from the artwork, to band names, to song titles, to merchandise. You cannot avoid the subject matter, and if it’s something that makes you feel uncomfortable or sick inside, heavy music might not be for you.

But there’s also the human aspect of death. It’s a real thing we all face, and our own mortality is something staring us in the face every day. Yeah, it might be rad to look at a Cannibal Corpse cover and chuckle at the graphic violence that unfolds, but that’s a cartoon. Actual loss is real, hurts, and can alter who we are. Muscle and Marrow, a duo that hails from Portland, dive right into that subject on their great, moving second album “Love.” Guitarist/vocalist Kira Clark recently went through the loss of a close family member, and that, in turn, heavily influenced the seven songs you hear on this record. As you can guess from the title, love also is a major topic, examining how we love one another, if we do at all, and what that means to our lives. Yeah, not the typical death aspects we get from most heavy bands, but these songs hit harder because they can, and did, happen, and it’s something we’ll all experience.

Muscle and Marrow fit into the outer perimeter of metal, but their sound falls more toward rock and noise elements. Clark’s expressive voice reminds me of a mix between Chelsea Wolfe and Shara Worden, and the music itself is edgy, thorny, sometimes anxiety-inducing, and always mentally pulsating, while musical partner Keith McGraw strengthens their sound with drums and sound work. These seven songs truly feel like they take you on an emotional journey, and mixed into the record are the topics of feminism and female archetypes (the incredible cover art conveys that nicely), and it’s a great step up from their stellar debut record “The Human Cry.” This is a record you’ll be hearing about all year long as more people discover it.

“My Fear” starts with guitar and synth tension, with the vocals floating over the mix and melting into anxious gasps. As the song heats up, the music flutters and the singing hits loops of, “Earth itself,” that swirl over and over and into your brain. “Black Hole” opens into eerie noises, with Clark leveling, “I feel stronger now when I’m alone.” The drums lead slowly, while the fuzz rises and bleeds, with the singing gripping you. Noisy power kicks in at the end, fading out into a groan. “Womb” has solemn, sorrowful melodies out front, with jazzier singing filling the room, only for doomy pounding to burst any serenity. The track continues to spread elegantly, with tightly wound drubbing setting the tone, and emotion poured heavily over the final moments. “The Drooling Mouth” plods along, with synth pulsating, and a doom-drenched, bloody melody slithering in. Keys roll over like a fog, with strange echoes, agitation poking, and Clark calling, “All I want is love.” The track is dressed with longing and pain, seeping toward its abrupt end.

“Sacs of Teeth” drips slowly, with guitars drizzled over top and more forceful vocals taking command, causing jarring jolts. The cut is chilling to the bone, always threatening to spill over into violence, with wild shrieks tearing you awake. “Such soft skin!” Clark wails, as choral chants swirl, and the track ends like air being ripped from the lungs. “Bereft Body” is arresting, with vocals nearing falsetto, and noise building the fever. The music is trance inducing, with the elements sounding as if they make a storm front, promising to soak the ground. Closer “Light” is the highlight, the piece to which the crescendo builds, as it starts softly with soulful vocals, only to edge up the volume. “Everyone I love is gone,” Clark laments, later countering with, “Hold back the light, it burns my eyes.” The track feels like an emotional bloodletting, but with that also serves a purpose of power, especially as the final moments hammer home the looped chant of, “Fear my power,” as blunt a threat as you could possibly face.

Muscle and Marrow really put themselves on the line with “Love,” a vulnerable, painful record that could help other people going through the struggles of loss and self-identification. These seven songs grab onto you and refuse to let go, making you confront the subject matter head on. It’s also a damn listenable collection of songs bound to climb into your head and heart and refuse to vacate.

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

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

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

It’s really easy as a pure consumer of music to forget just what goes into forming and maintaining a band, as well as hitting the studio every couple years or so to commit your art to documentation. That record or CD that you hold in your hand, or, OK, the digital file on your phone, takes a long time to create, and many times, the artists are not the same afterward.

I say that as the new record from Withered is about to make its way into the world, and that feat was not easily accomplished. It’s been six long years since the band last graced us with a record, that being the gitty, punishing “Dualitas,” and since that time they’ve gone through a lineup upheaval, the loss of their previous record label, and enough drama that would end most bands. But it’s been clear ever since Withered bubbled to the surface that they’re made up of a nice helping of determination, and with that we have the band’s long-awaited fourth LP “Grief Relic.” It’s not just an amazing thing because the record is making its way to public consumption. The glory is in the music itself, how it stays true to Withered’s past, but also launches itself into the mouth of hell in a bit of a different way.

Withered have been a band since 2003, and in those 13 years, the one constant has been guitarist/vocalist Mike Thompson, the veritable backbone to this project and overseer of four records that have been pretty damn solid. Drummer Beau Brandon has been around since 2007, helping Thompson see this vision into the current era, and with them on this record are guitarist/vocalist Ethan McCarthy (Primitive Man, Vermin Womb) and bassist Colin Marston (Gorguts, Krallice). They make for one of the most formidable Withered lineups to date (definitely they’re the most dexterous) and the formation that should push this band well into their once-again promising future. Oh, and they hooked up with Season of Mist, meaning they have a killer label behind them again.

“Leathery Rind,” a title that might as well describe the band at this point, gets the record going with a gasp and then an immediate death metal assault. The pace is vicious, while the bass playing is rubbery, and the track hammers away with an infernal intensity that’ll peel the skin off your face. “A Realm of Suffering” is fast and blistering, doing absolute destruction before scorching soloing lands and burns ever further. There are some disorienting moments looped in, as gurgling growls emit fury, and the final moments are plain nasty. “Withdraw” trudges and hulks along, with guitars fluttering and the bass bending your spine. The track later blends into a pocket of noise, with the final moments buried in eerie choral haze. “Feeble Grasp” has some slippery basslines, a wrenching pace, and melody snaking its way through the grimy din. The song then erupts, with fiery shrieks flying at you, a fast pace that delves into punk rock territory, and even flashes of smoking doom. The final moments have feral growls, smothering blasts, and an abrupt end like the world being sucked into a black hole.

“Husk” has dizzying melodies as it begins before it tears open and feels like it’s fighting a beast. Your senses are smashed, as the band heads into black metal territory and pushes your pain threshold to the limit. Wild shrieks arrive, leading the track into the mud pits, before the whole thing ends in blinding chaos. “Downward” is built on speedy riffs, mean sentiments, and ferocious growls, with the soloing tearing into the thing and bruising faces. The elements of this song feel like they spray everywhere, leaving no one unscathed, while the playing sounds like it’s situated in the eye of an electrical storm, pushing into noise rock. “Distort, Engulf” begins with tarry thrashing that mixes into a slow-driving death march. Growls and shrieks mix together to add to the terror, while killer soloing arrives. The vocals hit another level of savagery, and the whole thing melts into a scalding noise bath. Closer “To Glimpse Godliness” has a weird feel at the start, like your anxiety is making your mind go blank. When the track opens fully, it’s in the midst of a speed assault, gut-wrenching shrieks, and melodies that chew up your nerve endings. The beating continues without relent, as the guitars charge up and drag the track into the mouth of an uncontrollable wildfire.

If it’s one thing you can say about Withered, it’s that they’re battle tested. Of course, you can say many other things about them as well, all of which are complimentary, and their power is on full display with “Grief Relic.” Withered have survived enough trauma to kill most bands, and the fact that they’re here, bloodthirsty, and punishing as well as ever before should be a scary thing to behold.

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

To buy the album (North America), go here: http://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/

Or here (International): http://shop.season-of-mist.com/

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

It seems silly, redundant even, to shower death metal giants Gorguts as deep thinkers and extreme innovators. That’s obvious. The trail they have blazed before the rest of the world has been met with adulation, wonder, and respect, and they’ve become one of the go-to bands when we seek out something that not only chews at our intestinal walls but also broadens our minds.

It’s not like this band needs to keep innovating and going above and beyond to extend their legend, but here they go anyway. Three years after their amazing album “Colored Sands” arrived, once again shifting the plane of death metal as we know it, they return with arguably the most ambitious project to date: 33-minute, single-song mini-effort “Pleiades’ Dust.” Yes, I know we’re talking the same band that carved permanent new tracks in death’s terrain with albums such as “Obscura,” but this is next level even for this band. It’s an album that, on the surface, sounds like a challenge to tackle in one giant bite due to its length. But don’t let that intimidate you. Every visit I’ve had has been fluid and immediate, almost as if the song is half its length.

On top of the music limits they push, they also grab onto bigger ideas thematically, that being telling the tale of the House of Wisdom, a major intelligence center located in Baghdad that rose up sometime in the 8th century and lasted until the Mongol invasion in 1258, when it and all of its rich content were destroyed. When it was in operation, scholars of many faiths used the place and its resources to make advancements in math, science, and astronomy, and its fall leveled a serious blow to Arab and world science. That’s a rudimentary summary, and of course, you should read more on your own, but the band—guitarist/vocalist Luc Lemay, guitarist Kevin Hufnagel (Dysrhythmia, Sabbath Assembly, Vaura), bassist Colin Marston (Behold … the Arctopus, Dysrhythmia, Krallice), drummer Patrice Hamelin (Beneath the Massacre)—manages to take this idea, pay homage to its existence, and also, hopefully, extend the intelligence center of death metal and what is truly capable with this style of music.

As expected from a 32:58-long quest of a song, there are a ton of peaks and valleys throughout the adventure. It starts with strange noises emanating, drubbing rising, and weird and dizzying guitar work that unleashes, with Lemay’s animalistic growls crushing. Punishment arrives, with bizarre sequences twisting into the song, guttural fury coming out of that, and serene, mystical melodies flooding the senses. A chilling segment arrives that makes it feel like gazing into the night sky, identifying stars, but then the rumbling bursts anew, with the band taking a neck-jerk twist down a proggy bend, which they revisit many times. Introspection is around the next bend, meeting face to face with gargantuan growls and playing, shedding blood before the next spacey ambiance settles in and gives you a chance to explore in peace, at least momentarily. Slow-driving power takes over, as rubbery bass work leaves bruises, and a full-on assault gains steam. The guitars challenge even harder, if that can be believed, with the basslines seeking answers, and a total eruption filling the room with fire. This sets the stage for the final jolts of energy, with the band pouring everything they have to create an explosion you can see from distant planets, before everything melts away into the cosmos.

Gorguts remain the standard when it comes to challenging, cerebral death metal, and “Pleiades’ Dust” only solidified this thinking. They’re a band that stands out among others, and they continue to build a resume that is unlike anyone else’s. This adventure not only should expose you to subject matter not everyone knows about, but it again could redefine what you think about when weighing what’s possible from death and all extreme forms of metal.

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

To buy the album (North America), go here: http://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/

Or here (International): http://shop.season-of-mist.com/

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

Deep space is both an exciting and terrifying place to think about. On one hand, what is out there, and can we find life similar to, or even greater than ours? But on the other hand, what if you get trapped out there with nowhere to go and no hope of being saved? It’s a graveyard as terrifying and isolated as anything else in the galaxy.

Most likely no one will realize any of these realities in our lifetimes. That’s why we’re going to have to take that long, dark trip in our minds, and because of that, anything—horror or amazing discovery—is possible. Taking that sojourn along with us is Canadian atmospheric black metal duo Astral Path, whose debut album “An Oath to the Void” takes you on that icy adventure and helps you imagine any strange, alien terrain that comes your way. This music has its heaviness and savagery for sure, but so much of what they do floats through the Milky Way, past our galaxy, and into other, strange worlds that the duo creates with their interstellar sounds.

Astral Path only have been a band a little bit over a year now, having formed last January. The two forces here—guitarist/vocalist/drummer Justin Bourdeau and bassist/keyboardist Ana Dujakovic (Inviting End, Nightfall)—meld their sounds here perfectly, each bringing equal components of adventurous creativity to the mix. The goal for the band was to create a heady sound that pays homage to nature, the cosmos, and science, and it’s easy to imagine gazing into the night sky, identifying various star formations, and pointing to dots in the distance and imagining what might be going on there at that moment in time.

“Maroon Sea” begins the record with a long wooshing of keyboards, almost as if the track is lifting the traveler into the space capsule and getting ready for a long, serene trip. The guitars work their way in gently, at first chiming, then gazing, and finally hitting full explosion about halfway through the 10:05 run time. Melodic fury combines with wrenching cries, as the sing rumbles and burns and a gushing burst takes the song to its end. The title track follows, running 7:37 and heading into spiraling guitar work and a humid cloud of power. The shrieks cascade as the song’s bubble bursts, with melodies flooding, and dizzying playing igniting. Quiet waves slip in and out of the piece, and the final moments unleash a caterwaul of emotion and power, with growls hissing and the sounds fading.

“Between Appalachia and the Shield” runs just a second longer than its predecessor, and it starts in serenity, with the music swimming slowly, then harsh vocals and thick riffs entering the fray. The storming remains steady throughout the song, with guitars looping into the stars, wailing rushing over top, and a calming force taking over, leading the track to its end. “A Virulent Delusion” is the shortest song on the record and also the most dangerous. The pace is fast and mangling, an explosive burst of black metal that fires on all cylinders. The riffs are rich and dark, firing up and pushing aggressively and keeping things breathing fire. Closer “To Vega … Nebulous Anatomy” runs 10:48, with static and noise pulsing, a mid-tempo fog rising, and terrifying noise ripping apart the calm. The vocals sound like they could shred Bourdeau’s throat, with the track smothering before total silence arrives all of a sudden. That sits there for a stretch before a new electrical storm arrives, with blasts ripping, roars echoing, and everything slipping beyond this plane and into the next.

Astral Path’s adventure is just at its start, but what they’ve accomplished on “An Oath to the Void” is an exciting indication as to where this band could go in the future. Their grasp of the cosmos’ dark mysteries is imaginative and claustrophobic, and their soundtrack to what lies beyond could freeze you in your tracks. This record is perfect for a night when your personal chaos is high, and the only way to bring yourself back to life is by gazing into a deep ocean of stars.

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

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

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

It’s not really the time of the year for the dark and dreary, as most people in this part of the world look forward to brighter days and elevated moods. Everyone wants to be happy and rolling in sunshine and as far away from the oppressive late autumn and winter months as humanly possible.

All that is well and good, but personal darkness doesn’t exactly wash away with the seasons. Despite how wondrous things may feel and smell outside your doors, that doesn’t mean the heavy storms have subsided on the inside. For all of those people come Alaric, the dark punk bruisers from California who are back with their great second full-length “End of Mirrors,” their first since their debut offering five years ago. Their style is dark and brooding, with a deep sense of foreboding simmering beneath everything. It’s easy to envision dark afternoon skies, naked trees lining the skyline, and your body in a deep chill, unable to find comfort mentally or physically. Their music sounds like the embodiment of depression and agitation, a lashing out at what torments them in as aggressive a manner possible.

Alaric have been going since 2008 now, formed with the mission of creating dark and moody music much in the vein of Christian Death, Killing Joke, and bands of that ilk. Comprised of commanding vocalist Shane Baker, guitarist Russ Kent (also of Noothgrush), bassist Rick Jacobus, drummer Jason Willer, and sound artist Thomas Dimuzio, the band released a single in 2010, with their debut album landing a year later. They also were part of a really great split with Atriarch in 2012, with nothing else coming from the band since “End of Mirrors” arrived. This album, by the way, has two labels handling its release in various formats. Neurot Recordings is taking care of the CD and vinyl versions, while Sentient Ruin is putting out the music on cassette.

“Demon” kicks off the record, an 8:01 cut that sits in noisy interference and drone before the band launches into moody post-punk that’s utterly dreary. Guitars start to cut in, ramping up the doom (the latter moments are awash in Sabbath), while Baker layers a level of blackness over everything, fitting the cold, drizzling atmosphere perfectly. “Wreckage” strikes forward right away, with verses simmering in water, and the pace burning along. As the track winds down, the band suddenly hit a new gear, getting faster and nastier before the song ends in mesmerizing manner. “Mirrors” have the drums driving hard, chilling bass cutting a path, and guitars lighting up, even hitting on a weird shuffle at one point. Baker strikes an anxious note, wailing, “You told me don’t look in the mirror, because you’re shaking,” with the tempo punching and a thrashing, fiery end coming forth.

“Adore” has humid guitars and a slower movement, with Baker taunting, “I cut myself in two.” The track gets a little rougher and definitely has its punk edges, as everything goes off at one point, later piling into a long, psyche-fed jam. The drums blister, the song hypnotizes, and bells chime, leading the song away. “The Shrinking World” floods the senses, making your head spin, and filling the scene with paranoia. “The world is getting smaller and smaller,” Baker notes, and not in a warm way, and later worries, “I can see nowhere to go,” driving the scene into an ominous cloud. The title track is the shortest cut and most aggressive, trucking heavily through the sludge, with Baker accusing, “You’re fucked, you live like garbage,” as soloing scorches and the rest of the track scathes. Closer “Angel” feels like a foggy haze following a long rainfall, with the song bleeding and Baker pushing, “Dry your eyes and rise, you angels.” The song feels like an out-of-body experience in a way, with your head buzzing and reality seeming darker and harder to traverse.

The wait was worth it for new Alaric music, as this new record infuses a huge dose of darkness into the world, proving to those who fall closer to their type of mentality that it’s OK to embrace that side even when it’s bright and pleasant. This band always feels like an ashy cloud hanging overhead, dripping on you and causing you to shiver in your clothes. Drink in everything negative around you, and Alaric’s music will be a companion through your battle with hopeless waves.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/Alaric-201671150715

To buy the album (CD or vinyl), go here: http://neurotrecordings.merchtable.com/

Or here (cassette): http://sentientruin.com/releases/alaric-end-of-mirrors

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

And here: http://sentientruin.com/

What’s more metal than swords, war, and Vikings? That’s the magic formula, if we’re being honest. Any combination of those three elements gets you pretty damn close to ticking all the boxes you need for an authentic metal album, and all three together is a mind explosion.

Sweden’s Grand Magus mash of that together on “Sword Songs,” a record emblazoned with artwork depicting an eagle flying with a sword in its talons, which really does let you know everything about the music contained inside. And really, if you’re even remotely aware of what the band has accomplished over nearly two decades together and seven records now, you’d be aware of their blood being pretty much 100 percent pure metal. How do their bodies survive? No idea. But they do, and with each passing year and new Grand Magus opus they prove they’re battle tested and ready to unleash glory that would please metal’s old gods and the new.

Grand Magus started in earnest in 1999 (granted, they operated under a different name for a few years before this), and right away it was obvious their mission of classic heavy metal mixed with a little doom already felt tried and true. While many Swedes at the time were dining from black and death metal tables, these guys were more than satisfied to feast on morsels left by Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Cirith Ungol, Candlemass, and bands of that ilk. On “Sword Songs,” the band—guitarist/vocalist JB Christoffersson, bassist Fox Skinner, and drummer Ludwig Witt—offer nine more tracks of the good stuff, stretching great riffs, soulful singing, and battle imagery over nearly 35 minutes, making for a perfectly served, awfully catchy presentation.

The record kicks off with “Freja’s Choice,” a song that chugs open and begins lighting the torches, with Christoffersson howling, “Falcon wings, forever soaring,” and paying homage to “blood-stained wings of war.” There are great dual leads that strike, and they begin to scorch down the home stretch, burning toward “Varangian.” There, winds begin to push, while tasty, Maiden-style guitar runs bleed in, all building toward a great, simple chorus of, “We are warriors, defenders of steel!” that should make you instantly pump fists toward the sky. There is more fun guitar interplay, along with the drums kicking up and driving the final chorus, before this crusher takes a bow. “Forged in Iron – Crowned in Steel” has some clever word play over the chorus. Yeah, any time someone wails, “Viking metal!” it sounds like another reference to Nordic warriors. But no, here we’re talking Viking swords forged of metal, turning the thing in another direction, and it’ll be a damn rousing one to sing back live. “Born for Battle (Black Dog of Broceliande)” reaches into Arthurian legend (or at least I assume it does), with battle chants cried, a more rock-style tempo unleashed, and punchy verses leading to crunchy choruses. The war anthem also is dashed with great soloing and a sweltering pace to hammer out the tale.

“Master of the Land” is hard and crunchy, with rhythmic drums pulsing, and the band building nicely to another massive chorus. They kind of have a knack for that, and it never gets old. “Last One to Fall” has Witt pummeling away to start before a Thin Lizzy-style riff kicks in, and the band starts to trudge ahead. “Marching on, you’ll be the last one to fall,” Christoffersson vows, as the band hits a high-energy gallop, driving up dust and chaos, before the reminder that, “Blood is the price of the brave.” “Frost & Fire” is the one lower point of the record. It’s not a bad song, really. It’s just not up to competing with what preceded it and what follows. But it’s fine enough as it is. “Hugr” is a quick instrumental with winds haunting, a clock ticking away, and steely guitar picking its way down the path. Closer “Every Day There’s a Battle to Fight” is a total curveball. I was expecting thunder and fury, but instead the song is more mid-tempo and introspective, a more sobering piece that urges bravery and reminds of the price attached to any battle. “Never let fear stand in your way,” Christoffersson urges in a deeper tone than usual, while the band keeps things even tempered but heavy nonetheless, bringing this record to a really surprising, but ultimately satisfying end.

The next time Grand Magus steer us wrong, it’ll be the first time. It’s a shame that being on such a big label like Nuclear Blast that they don’t get more of a push, because frankly, they’re one of the best bands on that entire roster. Trends will come and go, sounds will change, and allegiances will shift, but Grand Magus always will remain true to their sound and heavy metal as a whole. This band keeps making killer, easily digestible records, and it’s about time more people caught onto that.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://shop.nuclearblast.com/en/shop/

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

This is a really great and interesting time to be a fan of metal. There is so much going on, a ton of experimentation, and a bunch of bands making this style of music something you can’t always predict. Yeah, there are a lot of groups grinding the same gears over and over, but who cares? They’ll get eaten alive in the metal version of the Gear Wars.

One of the bands that will be at the head of the table will be Phobocosm, the Canadian dark death metal band that’s become one of the frontrunners when it comes to who is keeping things fresh and inventive. Over two records now, their latest the mind-melting “Bringer of Drought,” the members have combined forces to make extreme sounds that stimulate your brain and get your nerve endings all worked up. Yeah, they probably could have just banded together and cranked out any old death metal album, and it probably would have ruled. But they’ve taken chances and poured a nice bit of weirdness into their sound, which takes them from really good to a band worth going out of your way to hear.

Phobocosm joined forced in 2008, vowing to bring together their visions for how they would warp the death metal world. The band finally released their full-length debut “Deprived” two years ago, first unleashing their strange wares into the world, and now they’re back with this four-track, 35-minute pounder that takes their sound and twists it like a pretzel. The band—vocalist/bassist Etienne Bayard (also of Vengeful), guitarists Samuel Dufour (Obsolete Mankind) and Robin Milley (Neuraxis), and drummer Jean-Sébastien Gagnon (also of Obsolete Mankind)—clearly are getting better and more innovative as time goes on, and each visit with this record is like taking a terrifying trip into the cosmos to face the great mysteries of beyond.

“Engulfing Dust” opens the record, running 7:49 with noise static rolling in, clean notes humming, and the track slowly coming to life. Once the trudging begins, a twinge of doom strikes, and the death-drenched growls lead the way, dragging you into the night. Melody slips underneath the murk, as the tempo hits a slow burn, and vocals begin a furious gurgle. Slow-driving death takes it from there, with the playing working to disorient anyone who crosses its path, and every element blending into toxic winds, with the final morbid notes bleeding off. “Tidal Scourge” is an 8:48 mauler, as it punishes right from the start, with the vocals blasting into the room, and muddy, lurching chaos arriving with the darkness. The track starts to unload heavily, pouring toxicity into the mix, and a slurry assault of guitars arrives and makes the room spin violently. The vox scar, the pace begins to bruise, and the track hits a slow boil, letting off steam and fury before the song bubbles away.

“Ordeal” spills in with ominous pounding and vocals blasting by. The band hits a grinding thrash mode, with the track pummeling away, and the song going into a guttural, ugly area, with guitars bending your spine. The rhythm section trudges away, while the vocals scrape, and the band hits total demolition. The final moments are ugly and smothering, paving the way for mammoth closer “Fallen” that runs a healthy 11:46. Clean guitars greet you, but don’t get too comfy as everything opens up suddenly and starts a downward spiral. The band keeps unloading cement block-thick fury, with the guitars bringing strangeness and dragging you into an electrical storm. The haze hangs there for a while, bringing humidity, and once the tempo kicks up again, it’s proggier and spacier. The drums erupt, while the song pushes harder, and as they build toward the finish, the band starts breathing fire. Your blood and bones are shaken together, while the world around you feels like it’s in full collapse, as you fade away along with the final bed of aggravated noise.

“Bringer of Drought” is the logical next step for Phobocosm as well as another great entry into dark death metal’s brave new world. This band keeps finding new ways to twist your insides and disorient you, and as long as they keep seeking those unexpected bends, they’re going to remain damn fun to follow into the future. These guys prove it’s possible to keep unearthing new ground and pushing the sounds they honor well beyond the stars.

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

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

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

I was at a show not long ago, and one particular band on the lineup, who admittedly seemed a little out of place, were not exactly embraced by the dude bros in attendance. From the meatheads there to see the headliners to the older heshers who only know one speed, there was a weird outpouring of scorn for a band that very well might have been the heaviest on the bill.

It probably won’t take you very long to figure out what band I’m talking about, but it seemed that their image, combined with the fact their songs have delicate, quiet moments, appear to be the source for the backlash. It was stupid. As metal has grown more than four decades old now, each end of the spectrum has stretched. There are bands getting as heavy and extreme as anyone else out there right now, but on the other side, the delicacy and beauty this genre can produce also has grown. There’s room enough for both, even within one’s own record collection, and the light very often does a fine job balancing the dark so there’s not oversaturation. That’s where an artist such as Sylvaine comes in, mixing plenty of beauty into a cauldron that still contains as good bit of lava.

Sylvaine, the project led by the vocalist/multi-instrumentalist of the same name, has returned with a second record “Wistful” that will add another solid entry into the bulging corner of post-metal, metalgaze, or whatever you want to call it. Most of her singing on the record is clean and lovely, but she also has a gravelly low end hiss as well, adding the proper amount of morbidity to the heavier stuff on this seven-track record. Along with her are guest musicians Stephen Shepard (drums), Coralie Louarnika (violins and violas), Thibault Guichard (cello), and some guy named Stéphane “Neige” Paut (drums) who practically invented this sound with Alcest, Amesoeurs, etc. It’s a really wondrous record, and it’s hitting all the right buttons with spring coming into full bloom here in America.

The record begins with 10:27 “Delusions” that begins with delicate singing over a quiet hum before guitars join the mix. The song floats in echoes before the power sets in, and great vocal melodies are unleashed. Gazey fire rains down, while dreary, foggy playing arrives, the song hits a crescendo, and the track trickles away. “Earthbound” is uptempo at the start, with the guitars charging and Sylvaine unleashing crushing shrieks. There are clean calls behind the madness, while things head into spacious territory, but then the tumult returns and begins to wrench. The vocals sound like tortured wails, while other textures are added to provide surprising shades to the darkness. “A Ghost Trapped in Limbo” heads back toward moody and even gothy terrain. Sylvaine’s singing drizzles, while the music makes it feel like you’re sitting during a foggy summer afternoon. The feeling is cold and drab, with the song fading into the mist. “Saudade” bubbles up, with solemn guitars reaching in and the singing conjuring personal darkness, as the melody snakes through and into the void.

“In the Wake of Moments Passed By” has proggy bass in its front end and punchy vocals that pierce the skin. Sylvaine’s growls are vicious and scathing, with the track rambling hard, and the storm taking a brief pause to let lighter rains fall down. There is a long, damp stretch that lets the clouds accumulate overhead before the guitars light up and burn, the growls sound feral, and the emotional high dissolves into a frosty gaze. “Like a Moth to a Flame” is, fittingly, quite wistful when it begins, with softer vocals spread over a slower song, and the pace taking its time to reach a middle point. From there, the song’s original melody returns as the piece sprawls and smears to an end. The closing title cut has guitars dripping in and the vocals floating over top like a spirit. The track is haunting and gets into your bloodstream, almost as if a group of souls are passing through and freezing your blood along the way. The strings hover, the woodsy ambiance arrests the senses, and the track fades into nothingness.

Embracing our more vulnerable sides is an honorable thing, proof we’re not just hiding behind bravado by proclaiming things must be all heavy, all the time. Sylvaine now have two worthy entries into the metal world that might bring a hushed tone to the chaos but still feel powerful as hell. Her might and passion are undeniable on “Wistful,” which helps her register heaviness in a totally different manner.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/

Or here: http://shop.season-of-mist.com/

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