It’s not often these days that a band comes out of nowhere and really surprises me. I’m not trying to say I’m super smart or anything because, if you’ve ever read this site, you know that I’m not. Instead that surprise comes from being a writer who is inundated with music and bands on a daily basis that when one really sneaks up on you, it can knock you for a loop.

I had that with Italian doom band Messa and their debut album “Belfry.” This 10-track offering has so much going for it, from smoking drone, to trudging stoner vibes, to pure doom stomping that every track along the way provides a nice new surprise. I’m kind of shocked that Messa’s name never came up before in my daily travels, but it’s nice to be surprised now and again. I definitely was with this record. Just from my own personal music tastes, especially when it comes to heaviness, there’s so much in which to indulge on “Belfry.” If you’re down with bands including Christian Mistress, Windhand, High on Fire, and groups of that nature, chances are Messa are going to wake you up from your stupor.

Messa have been doing their thing for the past two years now, emerging at the dawning of 2014 with guitarist/bassist Mark Sade (Sultan Bathery, the Sade) joining forces with vocalist Sara (who plays bass in decidedly deathier Restos Humanos) and putting their dark minds together to dream up a new path through doom (they call is “scarlet doom”). They later were joined by lead guitarist Alberto (Incolti, Douge) and drummer Mistyr (Nox Interitus) to round up the lineup and start driving toward what would be this great debut record “Belfry.” It’s not necessarily that Messa are going to revolutionize doom, as that’s nearly impossible at this state. But they’re a damn strong entry to the mix and provide some spark and strength to the style, and that certainly is much needed.

The record starts with instrumental “Alba,” a quick burst of drone almost as if it emanated from Sunn 0)))’s exhaust pipes, and that lurches its way toward “Babalon” and its doomy swagger that meets you at the front gates. Psychedelic winds begin to waft, with the pace punishing and Sara’s vocals sweltering with life as she wails, “Oh Lord, it’s a new dawn rising,” almost as if she’s referring to the magic they’re creating. The soloing catches fire and causes blinding flashes, while the tempo sizzles, switches suddenly, and then bleeds away. “Fara” is another quick instrumental, built with quiet guitars, subtle fuzz, and melody that later trickles in and heads into “Hour of the Wolf.” There, the guitars tremble, with bluesy guitar licks, and Sara warning, “I believe them to be demons, they engulf my soul.” The track then hits another gear, as the playing trudges, Sara’s raspy singing sounds a bit like Fiona Apple, and the cut comes to a furious end. “Blood” spreads over 10:25, opening with guitars jangling, and the band slipping into a sludgy groove. The pace simmers dangerously, with the guitars threatening before things calm, and clarinets and sax infuse added soul. There is a long psychedelic sweat section that stretches out, before the song gets burly again and the final moments get in some final bruising.

“Tomba” is another quick instrumental to bring the mood back down, with quiet ticking, noise hovering, and a siren-like effect that tears toward “New Horns” that gets off to a stampeding start. Sara’s vocals are powerful as hell here, with the song punching hard and a strong force establishing its presence along with the sinewy guitars. Sara begins to speak as the guitars churn, and of out of that comes a noise glaze that spreads over everything before the pace kicks up again and blasts to a close. “Bell Tower” is the final instrumental interlude, with weird sounds and eerie fluttering ruptured by the strange bells chiming in the distance. “Outermost” then comes in and ruptures the uneasy serenity, with volume piercing and the doom hammers unloaded. The vocals have a humid, sultry feel, while the rest of the song is meaty and thick. “You are the temple that’s falling down,” Sara insists, as the guitars erupt, the band goes down a bluesy, psychedelic path, and the rest of the song melts into the ground. Closer “Confess” likely would make Windhand and Dorthia Cottrell smile, as it’s a dark, acoustic-led track where Sara’s vocals are the primary tool, but the evil blues, haunting and dusty ambiance, and stripped-back emotion drive this home like a stake to the chest.

With “Belfry” being Messa’s first entry into the world, it’s pretty safe to stay they’ve gotten off to a strong start and should open eyes and ears with this great record. They have the intensity and creativity that should carry them a long way, and once more people catch onto this record, they should have no problem building a following. It’s nice to have new doom band emerging that can get the juices flowing, as “Belfry” is a beast flying way under the radar that could strike at any time.

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

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

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

There’s an orange lunatic on the loose who keeps promising to make America great again. I have no idea what that means, to be honest. But I don’t hear a lot of people going around proclaiming to make death metal great again probably because the sub-genre, much like America, has enough good stuff going on to help counter the heap of shittiness.

But if there were bands that would come forward to vow to strengthen death’s gates, one of those would have to be UK maulers Grave Miasma, easily in the handful of the finest bands of their ilk going today. The group has been turning their gears for the past decade now, and three years ago, they put out one of 2013’s best slabs of death with debut full-length “Odori Sepulcrorum” (our No. 6 album of that year, by the way). It was smeared with old-school death and doom sentiment, almost as if the glossy death that blocks up shirts worn by Hot Topic kids never happened. Ah, if only that was true.

Now on their new EP “Endless Pilgrimage” (their third EP), the band returns with some interesting and mystical twists to their guttural approach. There is a Middle Eastern-style flourish to some of the songs, and their path feels more crooked—satisfyingly so—than what they’ve been doing. It’s a strong offering that seems to promise an intriguing future for the band—guitarist/vocalist Y, guitarist R, bassist A, and drummer D. Over this five-track, 33-minute offering (nearly full-length territory), they keep brains spinning and their ferocious death fire-breathing, putting to ash anyone standing before them.

“Yama Transforms to Afterlife” gives the first dose of new Grave Miasma and the initial increased spices in their music. Sitars spill into the atmosphere and swirl about, disarming you before the track bursts to life. Guttural growls do their bruising, while the music gets dark and doom-infested before the sitars return. Chants emerge, making it feel like you’re being transferred to another plane, while crazed cries and grinding violence bring the song to a close. “Utterance of the Foulest Spirit” starts on a clean path before its guts are torn out, and feral roars arrive. The tempo hits a wilting boil before the playing speeds up and rumbles heavily. Weird atmospherics arrive, with odd colors drizzling, and it continues to challenge your mind. Soloing catches fire and scorches, with the track coming to a crushing finish.

“Purgative Circumvolution” tears Grave Miasma into new, more ferocious territory, as the band goes off, assaulting the sense with a flurry of blows. The growls are delivered wildly, while the world you thought you knew is ripped to shreds. The riffs hit tornadic highs as they mete out complete devastation and chew you alive. “Glorification of the Impure” is a track they revisit from their Goat Mölestor days (it originally appeared on their “Ancient Barbaric Assault” demo from 2003), and the track digs up the crazed chaos, splattering guitars, and charred growls, with the track steamrolling forward and the guitars giving off morbid heat. Closer “Full Moon Dawn” runs a healthy 8:44, and it greets with sounds wooshing and guitars igniting, with the vocals coming in unhinged waves. The track is a mangler, with chunky trashing at some corners, full-blowing trucking death at others. The fire grows in intensity down through the song’s final moments, blowing you back before the nightmare fades away.

Bands such as Grave Miasma are here to keep us hopeful that death metal always will have decaying tentacles that keep the style ugly, furious, and destructively played. Hopefully “Endless Pilgrimage” is a hint toward a larger package coming from the band in the future, and if this is the type of thing we can expect, the anticipation will be thick.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.profoundlorerecords.com/products-page/

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

People change all the time. We are not the same people we were last year at this time because as the days and months pass, our paths get altered. Some of us have life experiences that change us, some people pick up and leave their homes for somewhere else, and others evolve and expand their knowledge or skill sets in order to become fuller people.

Animals also do these things, but their plights are far different from ours. Their patterns of migration are annual excursions they follow, a practical regeneration with the calendar that is made up of progress, loss, and rebirth. We may not migrate as people, but we do have associations with the factors that make up animal migration, so we might be a little closer than we think. These processes are the focal points of the new Mur album “Heartworm,” and its creator Cam Sather digs deep into the land and its patterns on this stunning, amazingly naked record. The songs are raw and honest, having been recorded in an off-the-grid location in pastoral Minnesota powered by solar energy and containing just a wood stove. That setting comes across in ashy colors on this great recording that is likely to stay with you long past this season’s turning.

Sather (who also performs with Hymnal) started Mur in 2013, releasing a self-titled EP that same year, first tackling more human issues before he moved on to topics dealing with North American ecology with his first full-length “Athabasca” last year. Mur’s sound is rooted in black metal, and it often feels like it originates deep within the soil before finding its way to the surface eventually. He mixes in folk, drone, and experimental elements that all blend nicely within the body of his music. This record, much like subject matter on “Heartworm,” feels like a natural evolution from front to back, so when your trip starts and you work your way through the music, you feel as if you’ve experienced a life cycle.

We start with “Hollow Bones in the Millstone,” where winds whip in and set a chilly tone, and then the doom floor drops, and we’re on our way. Sather’s vocals lurch beneath the surface, with the music slithering slowly. Cold guitars later drizzle, with clean vocals echoing and clean melodies swirling. Later the track bursts, with the tempo hulking, and a dose of smothering chaos ending in serenity. “Cold Mountain” is largely rustic, with rumbling singing and Sather urging, “Oh my brother, show me your blood,” as the track continues along a solemn folk path. “When of Ashen Limbs” rips right open, with strong melodies sweltering and harsh growls bruising flesh. The vicious vocals meet up with mesmerizing tones, with strong soloing ringing out, and the intensity continuing to be fed. Later on, the vocals singe, while every element cascades, and the track fades into noise echo. “Migration Incantation (As Fog, As Gold)” first feeds hefty doom before dissolving into gazey melodies and a pace that continues to gain steam. As the track ruptures, the vocals turn raspy and harsh, with sounds smearing and stampeding, and the emotion wrenching at the heart. The track later turns to a simmer, as clean guitars rise, and the track slowly travels toward its end.

“Wyeth Shroud” is an instrumental that has a steely ambiance before it tears open and unloads jangling playing. The song starts to dust up, while the guitars hit a psychedelic rage, and the track bleeds into “Snakeskin on the Lake” that begins rather gently. The track feels sooty for a while before the thunder is unleashed and the music hits a frantic setting. A Midwestern vibe sweeps across the song, with the song hitting a glorious passage of burning, calming again, before ripping out your heart with its final moments. “Limbless Frozen Monarch” trickles, with acoustics blending into the mix, and the music feeling icy, like a newborn frost. Fuzzy guitars jab, mixing into dizzying doom, with the growls almost hushed and the finish trudging toward closer “Go Beyond the Sea and Still Bring Light to the Underworld (You Overrich Star!)” that totally explodes. The growls gnaw hungrily, with Sather howling, “Light, it quivers in the air, my sighs are growing heavier,” as the streams of music combine in the background and form a singular dark hue. The playing is spirited and fiery, with growls flooding the scene before the last dose of calm arrives. From there, the playing kicks up again, taking a heartfelt, massive jolt as it bleeds out, leaving behind its last tracks.

Sather is truly finding his voice and spirit within Mur’s music, and that’s pretty obvious from what he creates on “Heartworm.” There are a lot of bands employing this type of sound right now, granted, but where Sather and Mur stand out is in what comes from the creator’s heart and is slathered across his music. This is a rewarding, rich collection that can be visited each year when nature, and we ourselves, experience our own rebirth cycles.

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

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

Or here (CD form, coming soon): http://fragilebranch.com/products

Perturbator photo by Somnyum

It never surprises me when I find out folks from the metal community have musical interests that extend beyond those realms. Here’s the part where silly war brothers everywhere call those people false and any other cool word they can think of. But it’s true, and it’s actually really refreshing to know so many people aren’t just all metal all the time.

That’s why we’ve chosen to branch out a bit more this year and feature music that, while not necessarily metal, certainly can serve a large part of that audience. We continue that today with a look at “The Uncanny Valley,” the astonishing new record from Perturbator and “Asphalt for Eden,” the great new album from Jersey hip-hop crew Dälek. These might not be easy recommendations for a bloodthirsty metal audience, because many of those people are hard to please. But who cares about them? It’s great to have two heavy music labels such as Blood Music and Profound Lore who refuse to set boundaries for themselves and release what they want.

We’ll start with Perturbator, brought to you by Blood Music, the purveyors of that insane Emperor box set. This music could sit right up there with you Zombi and John Carpenter records in spirit, though in comparison this album is quite different.  “Asphalt for Eden” feels like an out-of-control night in the 1980s, with substances coursing through the veins, and the passing neon blur street lights. There is excitement and danger at every corner, and Perturbator’s electronics and synth-bathed music makes that time period, while well in the past, feel ultra-futuristic (he does site anime such as “Ghost in the Shell” and “Akira” as influences). Does that make sense? Well, never mind. Put on the music, and you’ll be right on board. As for Perturbator, its creator James Kent has quite the background himself when it comes to metal. He’s been a part of I the Omniscient as a guitarist and currently plays in L’Enfant de la Foret, but he really seems to have found something in himself with Perturbator. He has been releasing music under this banner for a few years now, and he struck a nerve with “Dangerous Days,” released in 2014.

Starting with “Neo Tokyo,” the ride gets going, piling slicing synth onto massive tempo rushes, balanced out by surreal melodies and Far Eastern strings. “Weapons for Children” has chilly synth and even some doom melodies, making for one of the more menacing tracks on the record. “Femme Fatale” (which features Israeli synthwave musician Highway Superstar) feels like it could soundtrack a modern age Miami Vice, with moody sax melting, weird and steam-filled melodies that shoot out into space. “Vanger” has Greta Link adding her voice to this darkly poppy song. There are other guests who lend their skills including Hayley Stewart who contributes her alluring singing to murky, foggy “Sentient,” and labelmates Astronoid put their dreamy strangeness into “Souls at Zero.” “She Moves Like a Knife” is one of the most jarring tracks on here, living up to its jabbing name and melding glimmering, up-tempo synth that freezes the flesh. This might not be the everyone’s liking if you’re all metal all the time, but if you can pour yourself into the late night and early morning hours, you will be entranced.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: http://www.blood-music.com/store-us/

Or here (rest of world): http://www.blood-music.com/store-eu/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.blood-music.com/

Dälek

Dälek’s new record is a comeback of sorts. A year ago, MC Dälek decided he wanted to revive the group, getting the blessing of longtime collaborator Oktopus. This time around Dälek (Will Brooks) teams up with DJ rEk on turntables and Mike Manteca on samples and effects to create this seven-track, 38-minute opus. It’s the first full-length from Dälek in seven years, with their last coming on 2009’s “Gutter Tactics.” Here, we get Dälek at its weirdest and most ambitious, with noisy ambiance, doom, and shoegaze bleeding into the mix and making for one head trip of an album. It often feels like My Bloody Valentine or Merzbow fogging up their jarring hip hop, making for a sound really only Dälek have been able to master. Also, Profound Lore got some shit from a few people on social media for this release, which is fucking ridiculous. If you’re paying even a speck of attention, Profound Lore always put out challenging, outside-the-box stuff including Psalm Zero, Helen Money, Vaura, and Worm Ouroboros to mix in with Portal, Cobalt, and their other heavier bands. Dälek makes total sense here. Get over it.

The first dose of hazy weirdness comes on opener “Shattered,” even as the words are delivered directly, the noises have your head swimming. “You can call me Mr. Brooks, you already know my pen name,” Dälek jabs, as the chorus that keeps revisiting gets jammed into your head. “Guaranteed Struggle” already premiered online, and its full of doomy loops, a wave of dark sound lapping, and Dalek urging, “Look around and watch the whole world crumble.” “Masked Laughter (Nothing’s Left)” is perhaps the most jarring on the whole record, feeling like a psychedelic dream that later turns gazey. The words slur over top, ending with the word “terrorism” muttered on loop to end the track to drone in their message. “Critical” is just a bad-ass song, as is “Control,” one of the angriest cuts on here with Dälek slamming, “They ain’t concerned with the now, just the after/And they got the nerve to ask why we say it’s black lives that matter.” The album ends with somber, agitated “It Just Is,” a fitting way to end a menacing, thought-provoking, nightmarish album that has Dälek flexing their creative muscle again.

Taking a break from metal and sampling what else is out there is healthy for you, trust me. These two records might only be in the metal wheelhouse because of the labels they’re on, but they happen to be collections that are pretty damn good and dark and morbid in their own right. We need more people in heavy music to push boundaries so that they one day disappear, because that’s a way heavy music and metal continues to grow.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.profoundlorerecords.com/products-page/

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

One of the great pleasures in life for me is sitting in a giant movie theater and seeing the opening scroll of a new Star Wars play in front of me, unfurling the new plotlines that will enthrall me for the next 2.5 movies. Even when the enthralling didn’t exactly happen (yeah, Eps I-III, natch), watching those yellow words scroll into space at least instilled hope.

I got to thinking about that when reading the plot synopsis of Vektor’s incredibly ambitious new record “Terminal Redux.” If I was lazy (or lazier, let’s say), I’d post that entire block of text here for you to drink in so you could imagine you own Star Wars scroll effect. You can in due time, and I know that’s how I felt about this tale about a lost astronaut near death after having been subject to isolation testing. He discovers a life-rejuvenating molecule within a stellar nebula and returns home to the Cygnus regime to regain his ground and wrest away power from those who damaged him by holding his new life-extending force in his hands to those who would serve him. It’s the stuff from which space operas are made, and “Terminal Redux” definitely is the metal version of that very thing. Seriously, sitting with the lyrics is like reading a novella. The PDF file is 20 pages long! I love it! This 10-cut, 73-minute record is heavy, adventurous, a little zany, and something unlikely to be matched from a conceptual standpoint any time soon.

Vektor have been operating over a decade now, first going by the name Locrian and changing that over to their current moniker in 2004. In that time, we’ve only gotten two other full-lengths from the band, those being their 2009 debut “Black Future” and “Outer Isolation” in 2011. That means it’s been five years since we’ve heard from them, and Vektor—guitarist/vocalist David DiSanto, guitarist Erik Nelson, bassist Frank Chin, drummer Blake Anderson—certainly didn’t skimp on the material with this record. It’s a long, demanding album, but it’s an episodic one, with each track logically and sonically building along the way. By the time you wind down to the final two, you’re on the edge of your seat to hear how things end. Along the way, the band mixes traditional thrash, death, and prog seamlessly, as well as more than a few flashy moments where they let their creativity burst.

Our story begins on “Charging the Void,” with the song bursting into hyper drive and the creaky growls telling our tale, lamenting the fate, “A rider on the crest, carry forth or plummet to death.” As the song moves, we get some weird progressions from the band, lead guitars that twist and contort time, and later some breezier melodies and strange group vocals. All of that bleeds away and flows toward “Cygnus Terminal” that starts with guitars pushing through cold winds. That picks up and hits a thrashy pace, with coarse vocals spitting toward its protagonist, “You must have lost your mind/Why don’t we just kill you now and put this all to rest?” Delirious guitars rip out of that, zapping all over and leading toward a thunderous finish. “LCD (Liquid Crystal Disease)” has guitars bubbling and ripping open, with the band thrashing hard and the vocals pelting your flesh. There is a speedy, gruff chorus, delirious fun mixed into the track, and closing minutes that feel inspired by Megadeth’s “Rust in Peace” era. “Mountains Above the Sun” is a clean, proggy instrumental that erupts toward the end and collides with “Ultimate Artificer,” where the drums come alive and pummel, and the band starts landing a multitude of punches. The vocals scrape, the soloing goes wild, and the band positively crushes.

“Pteropticon” explores the outer edges at first before the song comes alive. The track is jabbing and massive, trudging by blindingly fast at times. The growls crush, while the guitar work again heads toward proggy territory as the track reaches its final destination. “Psychotropia” sits in a mid-tempo range for a good portion, mashing you back and forth and doing damage in a calculated manner. The guitars go exploring, but then they’re ripped back to the surface, where they grind into the ground. The tempo mangles and bursts, while all the elements just go off, with the rubbery bass feeling particularly damaging. “Pillars of Sand” opens most aggressively, with melody worked into the carnage, and the lead guitars feeling fluid and nasty as the same time. After a brief diversion down a wormhole, the song returns to its front end makeup to wrap things up. We start to see the end of the story coming into focus on 9:22 “Collapse,” a very different type of song with serene melodies and DiSanto going for clean singing, at which he’s quite adept. “Collapse into a great resolve, everything falls,” is a sober admission, as the song heads toward jazzy shimmering and, eventually, an explosion. Shrieks are stretched over the singing, while the guitars get heavier and make their presence felt, and the song ends on a somber note. Closer “Recharging the Void” runs a hefty 13:36, and each moment is vital. The thing begins going off the rails, with the band destroying everything in its wake and DiSanto noting, “We’ve lived beyond our years, and now we hear our calling.” As the song goes on, soulful vocal harmonies are worked into the mix, with the song feeling even more theatrical and the climax right over the next dune. The vocals lash out, group singing heads toward the void, and the band drums up a huge fiery ending apropos of the amazing story that has just spread out before us.

It’s still a few years until the next Star Wars installment, and I’ve given up hope anyone will do anything worthwhile with Dune, so “Terminal Redux” will do just fine filling in the void. This is the record Vektor seems to have been building to all along, and they knock this one way out of the galaxy. This is a challenging, flat-out fun record, and every journey into the cosmos with this is bound to be explosive.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: http://uswebstore.earache.com/vektor

Or here (Europe) http://webstore.earache.com/vektor

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

Photo by Lauren Kate Kennedy-Yatras

We like to have fun on this site, and by all means, any metal voice that is a million percent serious is ridiculous. But that doesn’t mean we don’t tackle real darkness now and again, the personal kind that can live deep within you and can shape and/or damage who we become as people. That’s far more real than any devil or goblin scene, and it can happen to any of us.

Metal hasn’t been afraid to encounter personal darkness and mental illness and what they can do to a person. Often times, having music that approaches those sensitive grounds can help the listener know they are not alone and the artist shed some blood. One artist that has excelled in that territory is Tim Yatras, the man behind depressive black metal project Germ, whose new record “Escape” is about ready to land in our hands. This, Yatras says, is the most personal Germ record to date, as he pours autobiographical details as well as his bouts dealing with mental illness and disillusionment with society into his art. You actually don’t even need to know those basic details when sitting down to listen to this record. You can just feel those emotions bleeding out and into your pores. It’s a heavy, emotional, at times beautiful record that could not have been an easy document to complete.

As for Yatras, this is his third full-length under the Germ banner, with “Wish” arriving in 2012, nearly a decade after starting this project, and “Grief” landing in 2013. Along with Germ, Yatras is known for his work with bands such as Woods of Desolation, Austere, Autumn’s Dawn, Blackened Angel, and a slew more. As for Germ, this isn’t merely another drop in the pool of depressive black metal bands that are welling up. There are elements of New Wave and goth in the mix, which certainly diverts it away from the gathering crowd, and the music often feels so foggy and misty, you might lose your way trying to get to the other side. But the journey trying to find the exit is worth the excursion.

The record begins with introductory track “I” that plinks and has orchestral-style keys, and it sweeps into the title track, where sounds flood and a somber melody rushes through. Yatras’ growls are deep and wrenching, sounding full of woe, as the song bursts with emotion. A cold tempo arrives, letting cool winds blow in, before the original body of the song returns for one last strike before strings help it fade away. “I’ll Give Myself to the Wind” starts with trickling guitars and post-rock overtones, before wrenching growls and hushed singing mix to send the track’s message. The playing explodes with life, with spoken verses stinging amid the shrieking, and the storm hammering before it finally releases its grip. “Under Crimson Skies” has a different feel to it, with Yatras choosing to sing rather than growl, and he does a damn good job of it, adding to the thick murk. Before all is said and done, there is an energetic explosion, with shrieks returning and sheets of synth feeling dreary. The back end has Yatras belting out his words again, with the bustling melodies reigning.

“V,” like the opener, is a brief instrumental that has piano keys dripping and rain pounding the ground, flowing into “The Dead Old Tree” that charges and boils before slipping into a slow-driving assault. The shrieks creak and echo, with the song going serene for a stretch before the hammers are dropped again. Every element cascades like a heavy spring shower, saturating the ground and making the footing questionable at best. “With the Death of a Blossoming Flower” starts with clean guitars before the power arrives, bringing with it a rush of sound and piercing shrieks that sound soaked with desperation. Like many of the songs on here, it’s not tumult the entire way, as the track gets uglier with noisy riffs spitting chaos, and the volume gushing over the last minutes. “Closer” fittingly ends the record, with guitars glimmering, and the melodies racing to the surface. The track and the ambiance here grip, with the book closed on this emotional journey with Yatras noting, “You’re not there, but your perfume still lingers.” A somber way to end such a personal record.

You don’t have to relate with Yatras’ feelings of isolation nor his dark mental experiences that have shaped his life. But if you do, “Escape” is bound to resonate even more deeply because you’ll recognize the mileposts along the way. This is a vulnerable, damaged journey we experience with Germ, and it might cause some of us to take a deeper look into our own lives and understand some of what lurks deep within our hearts and minds.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: http://www.theconnextion.com/prophecy/prophecy_index.cfm

Or here (rest of the world): http://en.prophecy.de/shop/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.prophecy.de/

Hey, so my nerves are all chewed up. It’s just been one of those weeks, right, where pretty much everything went wrong. That snowball started at the top of the hill and picked up steam and doesn’t seem to have any intentions of stopping. That’s causing a little more annoyance than usual.

Because of this, it turned out to be a good week to talk about “Passenger,” the new and third record from West Virginia-based noise trio Rhin. That’s not because the record adds to the annoyance. It doesn’t do that. Instead, it channels all of the things pissing me off, and when I hear these seven aggravated tracks that sound like they’re trying to gnaw on my flesh, it makes me realize my frustrations are normal. These guys, while totally having modern flourishes, sound like they could have done well in the ’90s, when Unsane, the Jesus Lizard, Helmet, and the Rollins Bands were doing some of their best stuff, as they would have fit right alongside them perfectly. The band—bassist/vocalist Dom, guitarist Tuck, and drummer Ben—also have a metallic edge to their noisy emanations, which is perfect for inviting folks from so many different terrains of heavy music to the proceedings. It’s also just an explosively fun record.

Opener “Uncle Tuck” rumbles apart, with noisy punishment wafting and harsh shouts bruising your rib cage. “There’s got to be something out there/There’s got to be something for me,” Dom laments, as the band leads you toward a crushing finish. “Unwell” is fiery and smashing at first, with yowled vocals and the band giving off heat. The track halts momentarily, but then guitars cut in and burst everywhere, while notes shoot out, and a grime-infested tidal wave of playing forces you over. The song gets loud, the vocals slip into a shriek, and a smothering groove sends the track home. “Drag My Feet” has a deliberate pace, hitting really hard, with a cool chorus that sticks with you. The guitars get spacious for a spot, while the band lands on stop-start mashing, and the madness and filth pile up and choke out the track. “Snivlem” is the longest cut at 7:03, and it plods along at first before the noise hits a boil and slowly spills out everywhere. Guitars heat up, getting meaner and heavier, while sounds threaten and the pace suddenly explodes forward.  The riffs burn brighter than ever, as Dom howls, “I am free!”

“Clay” is the second longest track at 6:35, and it unleashes punches right away, with a smothering, chaotic assault bleeding out, and the band going on an extended, drubbing section where they stretch their muscles. Warbly clean singing arrives, with fiery riffs doing further damage and melody sliding behind the smokescreen. “Basement” blows apart, with a blinding array of chugging that catches fire and chokes you with smoke. Later the tempo shifts, with the band slowing down and grinding away, the track devolving into a noise pit, and the swirling churning bleeding out. Closer “Bad Timing” is an entirely different type of thing at first, giving off a stoner pop vibe and feeling like early Jane’s Addiction. Echoey swirls and wild blasts pummel, while filthy howls are unleashed amid sunburnt guitar work. The track is both abrasive and melodic, chugging and chewing flesh as the final moments blister and push out their final doses of torment.

Rhin’s aggressiveness and loose abrasiveness could leave brush burns on your face and chest while also doing a number to your eardrums. “Passenger” is a record that gets underneath your skin and, while poking at your sores, also helps you cope with the chaos flying around your head. This is a pummeling experience in front of you, and it’s best taken when your frustration is at its highest and you want to know that someone else out there understands.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://grimoirerecords.bandcamp.com/merch

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

As I sit here, it’s near 80 degrees on an April afternoon, which is unseasonably warm, and a wonderful breeze and the scent of grills in the neighborhood is wafting through my office window. It’s pretty damn great, I’m not going to lie, but it makes for weird weather when discussing a band that brings icier elements to their sound and might seem more at home during a blizzard.

Iceland’s Toska very much have a vibe that would seem perfect for the darker winter months when ice and snow snarl everything. In fact, the music that we’re discussing today that comprises their debut EP actually was released independently in December, so it’s not like they’re trying to throw a wrench into our brains. But since then, Bindrune Recordings/Eihwaz Recordings nabbed this beast and are giving it a proper reintroduction into the world on a grander scale.  That’s for good reason. There’s a lot of really great stuff here from this band who, for the time being, are nameless, faceless souls. Their sound is raw and abrasive but also chockful of colorful melodies and undeniable passion. It’s impossible not to get caught up in this massive storm that strikes quickly and drags you all the way to its finish line seven tracks and 23 minutes later.

“From the Starless Nights” opens the record, a quick instrumental that sets the stage with guitars ringing out and tensions rising. The promise pays off with “Night I – Algid Gales” that rips the lid off the collection of chaos and steamrolls forward. Whispered growls, a recurring element on this record, travel underneath the din, as melodies surge hard and the spirited chorus rivets. There is a rush of power that has a nighttime vibe, and that crashes face-first into “Night II – Throbbing Tumulus” and its dizzying riffs. The vocals are smashed underneath everything but certainly have their say, while the band speeds through, with guitars spilling everywhere and a brief pause letting a thrash assault crash out of the other side. The back end of this is blindingly violent, offering no chance for a breath at all.

“Night III – Iced Spectres” has moody guitars spreading darkness, while the assault comes seemingly out of nowhere before taking a turn toward comic keys and a frosty front. Guitars later cut through that, bringing bloodshed to the forefront again, while the vocals char and mar, and the sounds flood all over the place. “Spirits of the Winter Moon” is another instrumental, a quick interlude built with thunder rumbles and strange keyboards, all bleeding toward “Night IV – The Howling Descent” and its spiraling lead guitar work. The song unloads, with the growls lacerating flesh, and even a strange technical flush standing over all of this. Silence take over, with winds whipping through the pause in the attack, but later there is a new eruption, as guitars mangle, and strong melodies create a blinding glimmer. Closer “Night V – Blizzard Tales” sounds like a perfect Immortal song title, but this one goes more thrashy than black metal at first. The band trudges everywhere, with raspy vocals pelting you like ice chunks, and from there the guitars dominate, the song punishes, and you’re left out cold, trying like hell to keep your cells from freezing and turning black.

Toska’s deeper penetration into the world with the wider release of this EP is good both for the band and eager listeners who scour the Earth for new entities that will further ignite the metal passion in their hearts. This band is raucous and gritty for sure, but they also spit fire on a regular basis and can ignite even the frostiest of situations. Where they go from here is anyone’s guess, and it’ll be exciting to hear what they can do with a full-length record.

For more on the band (it’s currently blank, but whatever), go here: http://toskabm.bandcamp.com/

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

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

And here: http://eihwazrecordings.com/

As we writers work our way through a calendar year, music here and there pops up and makes us think it’s worthy of year-end praise. Yeah, it’s only April, but that’s already happened a few times this year. It happened again with the record and band we are discussing today, which I had been anticipating pretty heavily.

Woman Is the Earth is not a household name yet on even the underground level. That should change—it better change!—with the release of their amazing fourth record “Torch of Our Final Night,” their most expansive and best album yet. And that’s saying something considering they’ve been making great music for the better part of a decade now. But this one is the proverbial game changer, as much as I detest that saying. It’s WITE bursting out, expanding their thinking, and expressing their inner fire in a way that demands these guys be mentioned as one of the best U.S. black metal bands. I don’t mean just mentioned by jerk internet people like me. I mean by everyone. If you listen to black metal, or even heavy music in general, this band will open your eyes to new horizons, and you’ll never look back again.

WITE’s sound certainly can be labeled atmospheric, as the rich melodies cascade over you like a stream and can make you think of adventures in the outdoors. But that’s not necessarily in a forest, like so many bands. This music made me imagine this as a soundtrack for my own adventures later this year, when I take a car ride down the eastern seaboard, through farmland, and eventually to the ocean. Even dark suburban evenings when the sun sets and streaks the horizon in orange. Perhaps that’s a little misplaced from this band’s South Dakota setting, but it’s where my head went. The music is mighty, emotional, obviously informed by the band members’—Jon Martin (drums, vocals), Andy Martin (guitars, bass effects) and Jarrod Hattervig (guitars, vocals)—surroundings, and the perfect medicine for giving your heart and immediate jolt.

The record begins on “Triumph of the Sun” with clean guitars dripping, opening into a spacious sky, and those colors mix into “Brother of Black Smoke” that lets riffs rivet and surge. Harsh wails begin to flood, following along with the energy of the song and things later getting gruff. Calm arrives, as the melodies trickle through, letting other textures bleed over, and then the burst happens, with the song glimmering with life, the guitars leading the way, and an atmospheric deluge splattering. The song gushes over its final minutes before trickling toward its end. “Broken Hands” has guitars burning, harsh growls blistering, and a punchy tempo that’s both oxygen-infusing and mangling. A sequence that boasts a proggy headspace takes over, feeling spacey and warm. A pace that seems to take its time eventually erupts, with leads feeling like they’re becoming sunburnt, and effusive melodies and rustic acoustics driving the track into the stars.

“Sorrow and the Floods” begins punchy as hell, with rich guitars setting the pace, and, like so many other places on this record, the melodies rushing to the surface. A storm front of shades and tension hangs over and pelts the ground, while gritty, harsh howls rain down, and the soloing shimmers. As the track winds down, the playing robs you of your breath and thrashes away. The title cut then arrives amid a flurry of riffs, some cold synth sending chills, and a momentary gasp of air before the song explodes. The vocals are fiery, sending you into a thick fog, while the band unleashes musical ice pellets, feeling cold, yet calm, the perfect setting for a blaze. The guitars bring that, as do the goth-infused keys, and every element, including the monstrous growls, sends you catapulting toward its end. The record concludes with “Lungcrusher,” a track that simmers in an acoustic haze, quietly leading into the body of the song, and shoegazey guitars smear its massive honey sound over everything. You can’t help but swell with the same feelings the band pours into this song, with the tone getting moodier, and the waters continually building. Wordless harmonies push, the chaos blends into chilling synth, and the cut disappears into the night, running off with your heart and soul.

Woman Is the Earth’s true arrival is now, nine years into their run as they deliver the most affecting material they’ve ever written. “Torch of Our Final Night” is what a metal record should be—full of heaviness, passion, heart, and guts. It’s one of the best things to come out in this early year, and our thinking is when the snows return as we’re looking back on 2016, this record’s going to be right up there for discussion about the year’s strongest music.

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

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

Or here: http://www.womanistheearthband.com/woman-is-the-earth—store.html

For more on the label, go here: http://www.initrecords.net/