Amassing a team of all stars is no guarantee. Look at sports. It always seems like the teams that jam their roster with big stars are blinded by past statistics and greatness elsewhere and lose the idea of chemistry being the binding factor. Whatever it is, the system never seems to work anymore, and teams that build from within are the ones that have the most success and longevity.

That same ideal also seems to carry over to metal. Off the top of your head, name as many bands as you can of all-star players mashed together who went onto any great creative heights. I’ll give you a second. That in mind, when I first heard the lineup for the band Vhöl, I had two thoughts: How soon can I hear this, and what the hell is a Vhöl? Combining noted members of bands including Hammers of Misfortune, Agalloch, Ludicra, YOB, Amber Asylum, and a few others sounded like a metallic dream made in whatever kind of heaven state would produce such a thing. Yet, as noted, all-star teams don’t always work, and the proof was going to be in whatever music the band created.

Well, Vhöl’s self-titled 2013 debut instantly melted away any worry, as the band—vocalist Mike Scheidt, guitarist John Cobbett, bassist Sigrid Sheie, drummer Aesop Dekker—released a pretty unpredictable collection of songs that came at you from all sorts of points. There was classic metal, thrash, punk, hardcore, you name it, and the album felt either like a really fun one-off or the beginning of something special. Turns out it was the latter as the band has returned with “Deeper Than Sky,” an even more exciting, ambitious collection that feels like Vhöl truly coming together as a unit. There is metallic glory through and through, but there also are gritty moments, weird ones, and sequences that feel like the band is letting loose and just having a damn good time. I feel like there’s a Queen influence in spots with some of the dramatics, but maybe that’s just me hearing that. I’ve loved this thing from listen one all the way through to whatever number I’m on now, and this is the album that really starts showing the band’s terrifying potential.

“The Desolate Damned” gets the record off on a raucous note, with classic metal guitars blaring over top, the band launching into an amalgamation of power and thrash, and Scheidt going all Rob Halford, with his voice reaching high register and piercing the senses. This is total metal indulgence, with the band whipping up a frenzy and not letting go until the track reaches its end. Then “3 A.M.” goes in a total opposite direction, with Scheidt howling and barking his words as the track takes on more of a hardcore/D-beat personality. “The air is getting thin,” Scheidt wails over the chorus, while the band also dips back into power surges and even some prog. The title cut runs a hefty 12 minutes, and it starts grim, with the vocals spat furiously and the drama being ramped on high. There are plenty of twists and turns over this thing, as one might imagine, from moments that recall King Diamond theatrics, to mystical sequences where fogs and mists meet, to reflective playing where you mind can relax, to bursts of noise and panic that shatter all illusions of calm. Later there is a heavy psyche wash, as the band keeps rambling forward, pounding away, and ending the thing with some serious guitar solo fire. Then the oddball arrives in “Paino,” an instrumental cut that sounds like what it might if there was such thing as an old-time metal saloon. The track drives pretty hard in spots, but in the place of meaty riffs come Sheie’s piano playing, and the band taking on the feel of an organic jam that’s preceding a whirlwind bar brawl. Pretty unexpected, and in a good way.

“Red Chaos” has charred riffs and bursts with speed from the start, with more thrashing thundering down and screams that fly by. The speed continues until the song goes quiet, teasing serenity until the track starts to chug again, with Scheidt going for the stratosphere with his singing and the pace absolutely shredding. The soloing scorches and torches until the song dies down and blows away. “Lightless Son” runs 8:18, letting loose with guitars smoldering and really great riffs spilling out. Scheidt’s vocals are gruff at first, with authoritative yells directed right at you, before he switches up and soars again. This is another one where the tempos are all over the place, jumping tracks and changing speeds right as you get used to the trip. There is plenty of crunch and devastation that pile on right up to its conclusion that bleeds out. Closer “The Tomb” is a real treat, a horror-filled tale that reminds of the King again, only this time just as much thematically. There are vicious growls, stomping drums, and chilling terror that could freeze your flesh. As the plot progresses, Scheidt wails in pain, “This can’t be real! How can it be?” as the band trudges the ground, exploding into smothering madness, and then suddenly being sucked into the stars, where noises and spacey zaps rip the thing into a black hole.

“Deeper Than Sky” is the record that seemed likely when this insane lineup was announced, and Vhöl are morphing into a pretty scary machine. The band relies on all of its parts and never rests on each individual’s history or background. Anything is possible in this sphere, and the longer Vhöl remain an active, breathing organism, the stranger, more violent this journey is likely to become.

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

To buy the album (CD), go here: https://www.profoundlorerecords.com/

Or here (LP expected out in 2016): http://www.erodingwinds.com/

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

From what I’ve gathered from listening to metal for, like, the past three decades and from interacting with some of the people who indulge in it, I have gathered it is not proper to have human emotions unless they are anger, morbidity, hatred, doom-ridden terror, and/or lust. Sadness and depression, while making huge inroads, still are kind of scoffed at by a lot of people because metal = tough Viking no tears.

Of course, I’m generalizing a bit, and really, things have changed in some circles when it comes to making metal that shows vulnerability, but you know people. You know the Internet. Probably as tired as people get of rubes like me espousing the virtue of acceptance and treating others like humans with feelings, I get irritated at these folks who bristle at showing any sensitivity. If any of them are among us, they might want to see their way out as we discuss “Moving Monoliths,” the debut record from Canadian band Wilt. I have been through this album many times now, and the one thing that really grips me is just how emotional and human these songs are. It’s heavy and crushing, yes, but it also gets me inside, when having a particular spell with loneliness and sadness often can mix well with music like this. I never get the idea we’re off for bloodshed or that brutality is the most important element. Records like these are very necessary, and for folks like me who like to spend time with kindred spirits when I’m down, this album is bound to become a great companion.

Wilt aren’t weepy or overly solemn or anything. This is black metal at its heart, and atmospherically so, and what started as a studio project has morphed into something greater, something on a grander scale that sounds like it could enjoy one hell of a creative shelf life. Originally the creation of vocalist Jordan Dirge and guitarist Brett Goodchild, the band put out its initial EP in 2012, and after creating a live lineup, took their music to the people. As time went on and the music was embraced by more and more people, the band turned into a full operation, with Jay Edwards (guitar), Mike Lewis (bass), and Blair Garraway (drums) added to the fold. The result is this great album that grows in grandeur with each listen.

“Illusion of Hope” rolls open its 11:46 running time slowly, letting the waves lap and the atmosphere develop. The tone is majestic and melodic, with the music unfurling and spilling before the eruption happens and Dorge’s vocals explode. His expressions really convey the sense of anguish on this record, digging deep down and pulling out all of his darkness. The band unloads and shows the burlier side of their personality, smothering at points, letting the elements cascade in others, and they hit on some interesting, breath-taking progressions as the song goes on. Out of the gaze, the playing intensifies, furious shrieks are unloaded, and the song keeps up its will until is slowly trickles away. The title track follows, with the tempo slithering along and mournful guitars moaning with ache. The vocals bring even heavier tidings, with the band bringing wrenching emotion, making it seem like tears and blood are coming from their very instruments. The drums rumble, the elements keep pouring down, soaking the ground, and the personal heaviness completely overwhelms you and sweeps you away.

“The Elder” is the longest track by one second (it’s 13:09, while the title track is 13:08), and it wastes no time, ripping apart and feeling like the earlier days of Enslaved. Melody surges like a flood, while the vocals inject savagery into the scene. The pace begins to simmer, while the growls manage to pierce. The music feels like it is soaring through the stratosphere and into space, burning brightly and intensely, and then it starts to melt away. The music begins to bubble and brings with it coldness, and Dorge goes from animalistic howl to hushed whisper. Just as the gooseflesh crawls on your arms, the song detonates again, with a relentless fury unleashed and the band pouring every bit of fuel they have on the fire they’ve created, ensuring that everything burns away. The two-minute closer “Solitude” is an ideal way to end the record, as the instrumental cut wraps a bow on the album in a serene, calm manner, allowing you reflection after the bloodletting you just witnessed (or even participated in yourself).

To feel and address sadness and despair is human, and Wilt have provided a tremendous piece with “Moving Monoliths” that proves digging down into your deepest self can have rewarding results. Things don’t have to result in war and bloodied scalps all the time, and it’s great to have a band like this that can offer volume and heaviness but also a place to find solace.

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

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

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

Everyone loves a tragedy, so long as they aren’t involved in the thing. People crowd around TVs after wars break out, maniacs go on shooting sprees, or cities burn. We cannot possibly have enough bloodshed and horror, and you even can see that when you drive on a highway and there’s a terrible wreck on the other side of the barriers. Everyone is rubber necking to see that one.

I guess I understand the appeal. Or at least the lure. People want to see exactly what happened. They want to have a reaction to something. They want to see suffering that doesn’t directly involve them. It’s human to indulge in pain. That’s why death metal works so well for many people, myself included. It’s ugliness personified, basically, a chance to encounter something so awful and miserable but have no threat of being consumed by the thing. We get close enough to avoid being burned. I kept thinking about this for some reason when listening to “Morbid Throne,” the crushing new record from Alabama-based death squad Grave Ritual. It’s so dark, morbid, and hopeless, a complete scrape with the underbelly of hell, that it made me wonder why I love death metal so much and why this particular record was striking all the right, terrible chords. I guess I’m not so far removed from the people who consume tragedy via mass media. It just resonates, as does this band.

Grave Ritual have not reported back in some time with a record, their last arriving in 2010 with “Euphoric Hymns From the Altar of Death.” So it’s nice to have these guys back, who also ply their hellish trade in horrifying Abysmal Lord (whose new record “Disciples of the Inferno” is out Nov. 27 on Hells Headbangers). On this new album, the band—guitarist/vocalist Ryan Evans, bassist Bane Wolfgang Donohue, guitarist Matt Bokor, and drummer Jeremy Berry—whips together nine terrifying tracks that spread over an economical 31 minutes, making it an ideal serving size. You get just enough of this madness to keep you satisfied and just a little bit bruised up when all’s said and done. Plus this stuff is just vicious, often hurtling out of control and spitting chaos right at you. Damn, it’s a good time.

This terrifying journey opens on “Baleful Aversion,” a dark, doom-filled piece that grinds away until it launches into a blistering death assault. The infernal fury keeps going, leading into a strange groove highlighted by raspy growls and guttural stomps. “Autonomous Death” is smeared and filthy, with the tempo causing panic and general discomfort. The growls scrape, with the patterns causing nauseous jerks and the power blasting out. “Adversary Crown” is full of meaty riffs and brings the filth along with it. The vocals are thick and mauling, while the band applies thick layers of horror and then thrashes away relentlessly. “Invoker of Heathen Gnosis” is the best song title on the record, and the band tears out of it with faster playing and growls that are purely abrasive. The pace grounds your face into the cement, with strong soloing blaring, the power torching your flesh, and the gears slowly twisting and turning toward its finish.

“Tyrant’s Hammer” is clobbering, with the vocals delivered at a faster clip, making them sound even more out of control, and the rest of the band mashes heavily. Eventually, Evans conjures some horrific shrieks, soloing erupts and lights fires, and the crunchy pace of the song delivers the final blows. “Masters & Slaves” is punchy and chaotic, with the band chewing up everything in front of it and spitting out the bones. The song takes on a burly tone later before unloading more demolition. “Lewd Perversities” has an ominous tone to start, with dark riffs bubbling up, furious crunch leading the way, and the back end of the song just pulverizing. “Behind the Reigns of Gods” clobbers, creating an ugly ambiance that’s also weirdly catchy. Not pop hook heavy or anything. But there’s plenty to feel here and get your emotions going. The track takes a vicious turn as it develops, and the growls are smoking and bloody. Closer “Throne of Continuum” has guitars spiraling from the start, with grim growls emerging, the pace of the song lurching, and the guitars wailing away. Evans emits some final pained groans, and the track comes to its ultimate resting, bringing your charred nerve endings along with it.

Grave Ritual’s aim is true and misery inducing on “Morbid Throne,” a record so dark and furious it is bound to satisfy every need within you to witness real human horror. Yeah, it might not be a bloody accident scene or a building exploding, but it’s the next closest thing. This band’s unbreakable chokehold on death metal has been sorely missed, and who knows when we’ll hear back from them after this? So clutch this record and realize you are in the grasp of real blood-and-guts pain.

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

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

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

Ugly, grim death metal always is welcome in the spatial Meat Mead Metal estates, and as long as it’s unpolished and furious, we’re willing to listen to just about anything. Nothing necessarily against the polished stuff. It just doesn’t have the same gut blow quality to it, so we tend to find it rather boring.

Luckily we have the former on our hands today, and certainly not the latter, when it comes to Swedish death crew Under the Church. Formed from the ashes of the criminally underappreciated (at least until recently) Nirvana 2002, this band got to work making guttural, fierce, far-from-polished death that should make the old guard stand and take notice. In fact, just the name Under the Church conjures a certain vision, a horrific setting that makes it seem like you will come face to face with the souls of the unliving who still find a way to walk upright and feast far under the earth’s crust. And the music you get from these three on the band’s first full-length effort “Rabid Armageddon” only enhances those ideas. It’s ugly and mean, and it’s designed to haunt and harm.

As previously noted, Under the Church was forged into being by former Nirvana 2002 members Larks Henriksson (bass) and Erik Qvick (guitars and drums), and along the way, they brought vocalist Mik Annetts into the fold to complete their unholy trio and start their horrific campaign. They first rose to the surface on a 2013 demo, and then they returned a year later with their self-titled EP that carried over some of the songs from their initial offering. Now, a year later, they strike back with a nine-track display that could have bubbled up two decades ago with no one thinking anything strange. It’s the honest to true death, and it’s a smothering effort that will hurt you.

The record opens with “Sodomy & Blasphemy,” as strong a way possible to begin this package along with a title that really holds no secrets as to what you’re about to hear. The guitars rumble, while the vocals bubble in the back of Annetts’ throat, with lines such as, “I am my own master, I rule my destiny,” being delivered with aplomb and disgust. Strong soloing lights up and carries the song to its grim pit. The title track launches with the vocals being delivered at a faster clip, the chorus sounding like it’s choking on bile, and more tremendous guitar work to get the blood flowing. “Triad Ov Inquisitors” has a slow burn pace at first, with the growls scraping away and the band looking to do calculated violence that’s going to take a while. Eventually the pace picks up, and the band clobbers you until you beg for submission. “Magus” has a stomping tempo, fast and heavy with strong riffs chugging. The track also dines on thrash’s bones, giving off a sense of swagger and a poke to your wounds. “Suspended in Gore” goes back to that taking-your-time thing, making the most of the track’s running by picking and choosing their bodily targets, hitting, and backing off. There’s a deep sense of doom to this one, with the band bringing dark destruction and a finish that is mean and burly.

“Walpurgis Night” is charnel and filthy, with a ritualistic scene being set, and Annett urging, “Sleep with one eye open, don’t miss the gathering.” Once again, the soloing is top notch, burning its way over the song, and the back end grinds away and drops a dark curtain on this thing. “Mangled to a Bloody Mess” leaves very little to the imagination just from its name, and the track is built on infernal growls, riffs rushing to the forefront, and a very detailed portrait painted of a scene that would stop your heart is you ever stumbled upon it. “Penance” also injects doom as it slithers and slurs its way, leaving a dank trail of blood behind it. The song feels dizzying and disorienting, which is a good way to stymie you for when the burst of violence follows. Closer “The Path to Cthulhu” rambles forward, painting a picture of inhuman terror, with Annett wailing about “indescribable evil from beyond.” The track is gruff and menacing, trucking forward heavily, but then on a dime, the tempo switches. From there, it’s a feverish scramble from terror, avoiding curses, and painting a bloody picture that would scare even the strongest, most daring among us. No one lives though this, and these guys make that point abundantly clear.

Under the Church really are just getting started with their carnage, and this first full-length effort met all expectations I had for it after I thoroughly enjoyed their EP last year. Anytime a band comes in with an effort that feels like tried-and-true death, with warts and puss, it’s a refreshing thing. Yeah, it’s putrid and ugly, but that’s what death was meant to be. These guys have known that all along, and they’re putting everyone else to the test.

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

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

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

It’s Friday, so let’s celebrate midday here on the East Coast (and whatever time it happens to be when you read this) with a good sledgehammer to the face. Hey, all we’re doing is exacting the same abuse you likely suffered mentally from the week, so at least these will be bruises you can see and count.

In our grasp is “Songs of Lament,” the new EP from Yautja that has been doing a demolition act on my brain ever since the promo arrived in my bloated inbox. Yeah, I’ve mentioned the glut of e-mail before, but just stay with me here. Having a ton of things there taking up space I may or may not get to, seeing Yautja’s record pop up made it a priority for me to download and digest right away. Their debut “Songs of Descent” was a fucking smoker that sounds just as deadly and damaging today as it did two years ago, and having another dose of fury from this band, albeit in a smaller serving, makes me nothing else but thrilled through and through.

This Nashville-based band got rolling several years ago, delivering their first demo in 2011, then participating a split with damned-for-life Enabler a year later. They band—guitarist/vocalist Shibby Poole, bassist/vocalist Kayhan Vazriri, and drummer/vocalist Tyler Coburn (also of massively awesome Alraune)—have been splattering faces live alongside myriad bands, and this destructive seven-track new effort is a nice tide-me-over until LP number two arrives. This is nearly 24 minutes of doom, sludge, and grind that will rip up your insides and leave you a heap on the floor.

“Breed Regret” opens the record, a slow-driving monster initially before it hits full throttle and comes for you and your babies. The riffs are mud caked, while the wild screams sound designed to maim the throat and the audience. The band rumbles forward, looking to collect all fallen bodies in their wake, and they pile-drive into “Thankful; Appalled” that dips into a river of feedback and then deals out punishment at an astonishing clip. “Of Lament” features savage chugging, harsh and crazed growls, and a pace that decimates. This is total destruction jammed into 2:46 that does as much damage as humanly possible during that stretch. “Revel: Writhe” lasts under 90 seconds, and after a slower start, the guitars begin to echo and haunt, exploring the atmosphere, while noises charges into this quick instrumental.

“For Naught” tears back into a faster pace, thrashing away relentlessly and bringing brute force to the proceedings. The growls feel like they’re tearing into your flesh, pouring salt in your gaping wounds, while the rest of the band makes like an out-of-control bulldozer, flattening everything in which it comes into contact. “Disgust; Disguise” is a 50-second flattening, with the band concentrating more on heaviness than speed. It feels like hardcore mixed with tar at many times, with the yelling coming off unhinged and noise rushing in and taking over. Closer “Crumbling” is a 9:21 piece that’s one of the more experimental pieces the band has done, taking their time to establish atmosphere but always swinging hard. Noise terror erupts from the bowels of this, with chaos reigning and the playing having a violent, free-form style that’s like apocalyptic sprawl. Riffs cut back in later, as the guitars then go loopy and concussed, and the track finally dissolves into a corrosive pool of sounds that basically sucks the cut’s flesh off the bones.

Yautja may give you more black and blue marks once you’re done taking on “Songs of Lament,” but you’re going to be tougher for it once it comes to an end. This band’s hellish demolition is satisfying and thrashing, and this EP is a nice appetizer before they come back with an even bigger document, swinging even more hammers. In the meantime, if you can catch them destroying a room near you, go and watch them further cut their teeth while they knock out yours.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://shop.forcefieldrecords.org/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.forcefieldrecords.org/site/

It hasn’t always been easy this year to fill out an entire week with record discussions because it’s been a strange past 10 months. A lot of times we’re struggling to find things to write about because, in this site’s very humble opinion, it’s been a down year for metal. Some really good, special albums, and a whole lot of … other stuff.

But this week we are spoiled with riches, having a bunch of new releases to which we want to devote time, so let’s not waste time and get to three really good records we’ll cover quickly. First up is the awesome “Dark,” the second record from Connecticut-based Protolith. The follow-up to their debut “Light” (obviously) is a rampaging, thoughtful collection of eight songs that run the gamut of death, black, sludge, and post-metal, doing so with elegance and great power. While the songs are lengthy, it never feels weighed down at all. Instead, it moves slowly, steadily, and dramatically, taking you seamlessly from one chapter to the next and always succeeding as something quite visceral. It also will make great listening over the coming winter months. It kind of has that vibe.

If you’re down with bands such as Agalloch, ISIS, Enslaved, and Opeth, you’re likely to be into what these guys do on this record, opening with “The Construct,” a dark tale that opens with water lapping and then opens up into lurching doom and riveting drama, with the final howled line, “The mourner in silence will give up and die,” as the music trickles out. There is plenty of dense heaviness on progressive and desperate “Reprise”; bustling “The Oath” has some dreamy, jazzy passages; and the rough, yet melodic “Transcendence” nicely mixes light and dark. No pun? But there are different textures as well, such as on “Dimensions” that can be cataclysmic but also has cleaner vocals woven into the cosmic soup. Plus closer “Swansong” has a folk edge, with the singing swelling, lines from “The Silver Swan” worked into the story, and a gazey, glorious backing that should swell you with emotion. I’ve gotten more in touch with the record the more I’ve heard it, and I think it’ll sound right at home when snow quietly is falling to the ground once again.

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

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

If you’d rather feel like you have thousands of pounds of Earth caving in your chest, Florida’s Ad Nauseum have you covered, son. Pounding and lurching with terror and strength, and glazing their sound with eerie ambiance and ear-drum splitting noise, this band comes at you with four tracks on their debut self-titled EP (it follows a demo and a couple of split releases). Everything this band does is heavy and imposing, and even at a smaller serving like this offering, the group comes off feeling powerful, overwhelming, and parading in the hopelessness that is your life. The sound is rough, the vocals grumble beneath, and Ad Nauseum might be one of the grimiest bands in all underground metal.

“Walls” immediately stars boiling your brain with noise hiss that drives its way into your sanity, and then the slow-driving filth arrives and starts battering. The music is sinewy and ferocious, with harsh growls crawling beneath the din and more soundscapes scraping viciously. The hammering builds into a brutal transmission, and then we’re on to “Futility” that lives up to its name. The growls are throaty and monstrous, with everything torn apart to let the lava flow. The noise rises and darkens the sky like a never-ending insect swarm, and out of that rises “Locked In.” It’s a shorter cut with a doomy downturn and unforgiving heaviness, and then it’s into closer “Slalom in the Public River.” It’s a nasty one, too, with grim roars, a tone that reminds of Godflesh, and a lumbering, bloody tempo that leaves bruises and psychological torment. This band is heavy and tumultuous, and Ad Nauseum’s first EP is a promising step for these crushers.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.brokenlimbsrecordings.net/#!store/azhdm/collections/new-releases/1

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

Cape of Bats are something altogether different yet, merging black metal, punk, goth, and deathrock into a chaotic, charred presentation that’s suffocating and fun at the same time. Splitting members among the U.S. and Ireland, the band has a pretty impressive array of releases in their catalog before this debut full-length “Violent Occultism.” There’s something about their absolutely raw sound that makes me think of the early days of black metal (I feel some vintage Bathory) but they also have strange synth and rather killer melodies that prove they have a little more up their sleeve than that. This mangling beast blasts you with 13 tracks over 36 minutes, proving a lean but deadly fighting machine devoted to the occult. And what a perfect time for this to drop.

As filthy and completely unpolished as this band is, their music has a definite charm that can’t be eclipsed by that fury. From the trucking, yet carefully built opener “Kali Yuga (The Lightning and the Moon),” the terror swells, with shrieky growls by Francis Kano pushing the way and always stinging your senses. Most of the songs roll by in no time, peaking on throaty, stomping “Resurrection” and its tremendous guitar work and sooty madness; “Lord of the Shadows,” which is a perfect amalgamation of black metal and punk from these guys; “Weeping Daughters of Jerusalem” and its gothic dashes that chill the blood and chorus that sticks in your chest; the fiery, thrashy “Buckets of Blood”; and closing cut “Hecatian Nights” that has guitars rampaging everywhere, the vocals ripping a hole in your will, and the band blistering you aggressively. Cape of Bats are a shitload of fun, a great throwback to when punk and black metal looked to convey raw emotion and shed blood, agendas that have been lost by many participants in both of those terrains. This kills.

For more on the band, go here: http://capeofbats.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://www.brokenlimbsrecordings.net/#!store/azhdm/collections/new-releases/1

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

And here: https://www.facebook.com/grimwinds/

There are a lot of things in life you can be upset about on a daily basis. Most of them have existed for years. Decades, even. Centuries? Sure. The balance of power in the world never has been more lopsided, people are getting dumber and more ignorant to what’s going on around them, and the Internet has proven to be as much a tool of advancement as it is a way to see the really rotten, awful side of humanity. Sadly, that aspect outweighs the good.

This is why the world needs bands like Cult Leader. These guys don’t sugarcoat anything. Just putting on their records and indulging in a few minutes lets you now right away they are firing buckets of piss, vinegar, and blood, and if they happen to get any of that in an open sore, oh well. It just serves their greater good, which is exposing and eye raking the bullshit about life in general. Having formed from the ashes of Gaza, Cult Leader have gone onto greater heights, enjoyed a more prolific creative life, and have a stranglehold on the miserable, infuriating parts of life. Don’t sweep that shit under the rug, don’t ignore it hoping it’ll go away, and don’t take it. Poke it in the eye and expose those negative forces for the garbage that they are. The hope is other people will pay attention and react the same way.

Based in Salt Lake City, Utah, Cult Leader got started following Gaza’s dissolution (go ahead and Google it if you’d like…), with former member Antony Lucero (who put aside bass duties and took over on vocals for this band), Mike Mason (guitars), and Casey Hansen (drums) forming this new group. Sam Richards then joined the band on bass, and they were off and firing, putting out two EPs—“Nothing for Us Here” in 2014 and “Useless Animal” earlier this year—and now their debut full-length album “Lightless Walk” has arrived to level their listeners all over again. Basically, if you enjoyed the direction Cult Leader were headed on their EPs, you’re going to be right at home on this one, digging into their fury and spite all over again on this 11-track offering. Yet, there are surprising new shades that prove Cult Leader have plenty of tricks up their collective sleeves.

“Great I Am” gets the record off to a perfectly volatile start, with doomy, smeary playing causing great havoc, the song tearing apart and blistering, and scathing savagery taking over. It’s a purely brutal assault, one that feels immediate and bloodthirsty, and it whips by you and into “The Sorrower” with its bleeding noise and crunchy assault. It, too, blows past in no time, firing off savagery madness as it rams right into “Sympathetic.” That track boils and gives off steam, with the drums being plastered, Lucero’s vocals mangling, and the pace of the song leaving you beaten and bruised. “Suffer Louder” is fast and ferocious, with the music burning dangerously and Lucero howling, “The more I suffer, the more I made it.” “Broken Blade” continues the vibe of obliteration, with the song blown apart, causing shrapnel to fly, and the vocals are howled like Lucero is trying to destroy his throat. “A Good Life” is one of two pretty different songs for Cult Leader, with the track hammering slowly, setting up a dark vibe, as Lucero speaks his words, poking with, “My own mother won’t say my name,” as this scarred tale develops. The song bursts toward the end, with the band applying their trademark heaviness, but the first potion of the track and its disturbing themes are impossible to shake.

“Walking Wasteland” brings us back to punishment, as the band brutalizes your senses here, with muddy guitars cutting tributaries in your skin and Lucero wailing, “Time heals nothing!” “Gutter Gods” is over before you even know what hit you. It fires on all cylinders and leaves you dizzy and reeling into “Hate Offering,” which continues the clobbering. The track is thashy and devious, with some parts slowing down in order to stretch out the body blows. “How Deep It Runs” has a more calculated pace as well, with the growls coming harshly and the band hammering away. The guitars really heat up later on, scorching your flesh, as the band continues to double down on the crushing sentiments and push you right into the 7:18 closing title track. This is in a similar vein as “A Good Life,” with clean guitars trickling down and the vocals more spoken than anything. The ambiance is morose and utterly dark, with clean singing spilling in behind the fray and the feel that a complete breakdown is imminent. Yet that doesn’t arrive musically (it sure as hell does emotionally), as the pace remains somber, the vocals are filled with pain, and the track bleeds away, hitting ever harder than it would have had the expected explosion occurred. It’s a totally different side to Cult Leader, one that shows they have far more depth than most of us previously knew.

It’s OK to feel nasty and disappointed by your surroundings, and you don’t just have to stand there and get knocked to the ground. Cult Leader make that abundantly clear on “Lightless Walk,” a record that despite its quieter, more reflective moments, is an angry mouth going for the throat. It’s heavy, unforgiving, and channeled, making the most of their time to deliver a severe body blow to the forces that would hold us down and a message of hope that fighting back can be noble and satisfying.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://store.deathwishinc.com/category/new.html

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

When I was a kid, I was terrified of the concept of alien abduction, and to make matters worse, I’d purposely watch anything I could find on TV about aliens (which at the time wasn’t much) to the point where I’d have nightmares about encounters. Nights when I was tasked with taking out the trash, I’d walk the cans down our long driveway and run breathlessly through our woods-bordering yard fearing something was behind me and closing in. Something about the terror was exhilarating.

The first time I ever heard Pittsburgh’s Zombi many years ago and their cinematic space rock, it immediately made me think back to those days. There was something about how the synth struck me, the weirdness enveloped in their songs, and the feeling of something from another world permeating my senses that gave me that feeling again. It was terror combined with excitement, and with each subsequent release, I get another chance to relive those moments, nightmare-inducing as they were. On the band’s sixth record “Shape Shift,” there’s more of that eerie, murky stuff to make the blood go cold again. The other thing Zombi always made me think about were old 1980s B sci-fi and horror movies with their strange keyboard-laden soundtracks that made you feel like you were watching something made by people not of this planet. People who originated in a dream. That’s one of the reasons Zombi so often is compared to John Carpenter’s work. It feels like they operate in the same headspace.

One thing that does stand out as being a little different on “Shape Shift” as compared to their other work is it feels more live and spontaneous. The bio notes that accompany the record do point out that Steve Moore (synth, bass) and A.E. Paterra (drums) operated more in the vein of playing like a live band, having come off a successful run playing as support for Goblin and as a headline act at Roadburn. Listening to these nine songs play out, it feels like both guys are in the room playing off of one another, and making their strange music even more cohesive and vibrant.

“Pillars of Dawn” begins the record in a synth haze, with the melodies roaring, feeling like we’re kicking off the opening scene of an alien mission as we’re getting a fleet of ships prepared to go out into the unknown. Sounds pulsate, the keys bubble up, and the noise bleeds out and into “Total Breakthrough.” Here, the band comes off in a similar vein as early 1980s Rush (fun fact: I am listening to the new vinyl repress of “Signals” as I write this), with the bass plodding in, the drums keeping things steady, and mist rising. The intensity continues to build, with the synth lurking and a spirit of the song sweeping you away. “Mission Creep” has keys spiraling in, a thick melody being pushed by the bass, and a snakey rhythm that works its way around the track. “Interstellar Package” is one of the longer songs on here, at 8:34, and it feels like cosmic doom is pouring down on you. Strange spirits appear in the song, as it sets up its haunting mission. In fact, it makes it seem like a UFO is hovering overhead, disorienting and collecting information, before it sends a beam down and captures you. Struggling is useless, so you might as well just cooperate. “Diffraction Zone” has keys jutting to the surface, with the drums keeping us on pace and chilling synth seeming like a cold wind freezing your cells. The bass plods, the keys stay odd, and the whole thing comes to an abrupt end.

“Toroidal Vortices” is built on blipping keys and a melody that’s damn near danceable, if you’re inclined to that kind of thing. The track drives ahead nicely, again reminding of Rush, and as all the elements build to a high, they’re allowed to fade away. “Shadow Hand” gets going with churning bass work, smeared keyboards, and the drums thrashing away. The melodies all seem headed in one direction, but just as you get comfortable, the pace halts and takes a curve, with the keys penetrating and the rest of the song twisting your arms. “Metaverse” begins with keys raining down, a thick fog settling in, and the sensation that you’re traveling through the clouds, trying to find your way through the void. Each element boils, giving off steam, and then eventually fades away. Closer “Siberia II” (the first installment appeared on their 2007 “Digitalis” EP) is the longest cut at 14:40, and it’s in no real hurry to get from point A to point B. Winds pick up and blow through, while the track slowly unfurls and a wooshing, hypnotic display hits the ground. There is a psychedelic sheen to some of this cut, with the pace entering into a repetition designed to stymy. Sounds and layers keep folding on top of each other, as the band achieves a state of total hypnosis they spent nearly 15 minutes building. Just as you’re at your utmost state of mental submission, the sounds blast off into space, you’re deposited on the dewy ground, and you’re left to wonder what exactly happened to your body.

Zombi’s music isn’t exactly metal, but certainly their reach has spilled over in that territory during their time together. “Shape Shift” is another solid dose of cosmic glory, a record that gets better and spookier the closer you listen to sundown. Once the moon is in the sky, all bets are off. You might find me running down the street wailing, worrying I’m being taken away to a new world. Seriously, if you ever see me doing that, call someone. It might really be happening, and I could use your help.

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

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

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

Hey, guess what? I don’t have to work for the next two days. It’s fantastic. I am happy, and I plan to enjoy the autumn air, my time with my wife and animal family, and what the hell, I may have some beers and listen to records. But Monday, that all goes away. How imminently depressing that is, the end of all the fun times. At least for another week.

I’m never really one to bitch when Monday comes around, though. I’ve been unemployed twice for long stretches the past five years, through no fault of my own, and so I always try to remind myself that I could be asleep and wallowing in depression over the fact that my career is dead. When you really sit and think about that, though, that’s also is depressing. Our role here on the planet, through no choice of our own, is to toil endlessly in order to survive. We’re part of a cycle that most of us can’t just opt out of, and if we do, we struggle. Some of us even die. Our need for employment is something that hangs over our head (and causes me unneeded stress because after having two jobs dissolve, every mistake you make is coated in anxiety), and it’s the theme of “Grievances,” the new record from Kowloon Walled City. You can see from the drab, lit factory on the cover of the record that work and the need for gainful employment is an overriding theme, and then hearing these carefully meted-out, frustration-laced tracks hits you in the gut and gives you a major reality check.

KWC is one of those bands I never understood why they didn’t have a bigger following. Come to think of it, I got to know of the band’s music pretty much by chance. A package I received several years ago from the label Perpetual Motion Machine contained with it “Gambling on the Richter Scale,” the band’s second release (their first full-length), and a total revelation to me as a listener. Their sound isn’t easy to pin down, as there’s doom, hardcore, noise rock, post-rock, some metal, and plenty of other elements. Yet none of those things overpowers any other parts, and as time has gone on, they’ve perfected a sound that’s very much become theirs and is instantly recognizable. Now with “Grievances” out on Neurot (CD) and Gilead Media (vinyl), the band has the chance they deserve to align with like-minded drones, who work their weeks away for some relief on the brief weekend. If they’re lucky. Sometimes, work never really ends.

“Your Best Years” strikes you right away, if not from its title then from the presentation. Dry, slow-driving, and jabbing, with vocalist/guitarist Scott Evans howling, “Count off the days, write on the walls, who wants to live this way?” Guitars simmer under the currents (Jon Howell is your other guitarist), with a final burst striking and the song loosening its grip. The title track continues the darkness, with clean guitars flowing into Ian Miller’s thick bass, and Evans layering on the disgust as he prods, “Raise your glass and admit it. You’d draw those bridges, then forget the next minute.” The heaviness kicks in heavier, as does the ill intent and mistrust, as Evans pokes, “We can see your hands move,” another harsh, sobering reminder about who is really in charge. “Backlit” has a nice, drubbing pace, punchy and calculated before guitar wails bustle, strong riffs bubble over, with Jeff Fagundes’ steady drumming pacing the track. “The Grift” is heavier and burlier from the start, with Evans delivering his most forceful vocals on the record, the band thrashing and burning, and then a temporary calm blown apart with the soot spread on the walls.

“White Walls” has a drawn-out feel, but it’s deliberate and meaningful. The song chugs along, as guitar melodies snarl, the bass gets mud thick, and the band keeps pounding away at your will, with Evans howling, “Stay seated! Stay tense! Send a message!” as if he’s trying to rouse a society that has been lulled to sleep. “True Believer” is scathing and blistering, with the vocals coming out like desperate yells, and the music burning and smoking. The guitars spit sparks, while the ball is paced like a steamroller, with the finish triggering anxiety and mental wounds. Closer “Sons and Daughters” is a fitting end, with the guitars sounding more vibrant, a light in the murk that somehow cuts through it all. There’s more of a post-rock edge, with the band pounding rhythmically and Evans admitting, “We never wanted to be so cynical or fatalist.” The feeling is more reflective here, as the track finds its way along, with the band putting the final, trudging touches on a record that understands life a little too intimately.

Kowloon Walled City always have struck a nerve with me because, no matter what they’re writing about, they always find a way to relate their struggles and frustrations to everyday life. You don’t have to be them; you just have to be able to relate. “Grievances” pushes that even further, poking at something that involves all of us and gives everyone some level of stress. The fact that this music is as on-point and aggravated as anything else in their catalog also is a big help in case you don’t feel like playing along. KWC deserve your time, and they’ll pay you back tenfold with musical grit that will stick to your ribs.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://neurotrecordings.merchtable.com/?no_redirect

Or here: http://www.erodingwinds.com/

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

And here: http://www.gileadmedia.net/

How do you describe the indescribable? Giving up isn’t an answer, especially when there’s a record you need to talk about, so how do you go about putting into words the strange emanations that are torturing and blistering your hearing? I guess you just try really hard and hope for the best.

This certainly is not the first time we’ve encountered Ævangelist, the bizarre black metal force that hails from the United States but might as well originate in one of those weird Martian landscape boasting those strings of water. Every time I approached this band when they’ve released new music over the years, it’s always been a challenge. That’s not just from a writing standpoint but as a listener, as well. This band is anything but standard or formulaic, and each of their records finds different ways to baffle you. Their new fourth creation “Enthrall to the Void of Bliss” (released by rock-solid 20 Buck Spin) is as black, spellbinding, and confounding as anything they’ve released to date, and traveling with this album takes you into hellish tunnels and through portals that will leave you questioning whether you’re even alive. It’s an experience unlike any other metal band, merely because no one else of making these kinds of sounds.

While Ævangelist’s lineup is a fluid, ever-changing one in a live setting, the creators here are Matron Thorn, who handles guitars, drums, synth, and the mesmerizing, hallucinogenic harps that glaze the record, as well as Ascaris, who is on vocals, saxophone, piano, and other noises. As noted, describing this record is damn near impossible, as you really have to sit down with this and absorb the madness. I keep imagining I had been hypnotized by some magician of the dark arts, led into corners of existence normally not available to people on the normal planes, and left to stare at colors and images that don’t even have words attached. It’s a really odd adventure you’re on, and don’t be surprised if you find yourself a little overwhelmed as these demonic incantations sweep over you.

The record opens on the wings of “Arcanæ Manifestia,” where guitars sprawl all over, the melodies immediately leave you disoriented, and the growls begin to scatter and scathe. The pace later grows muddy, with maniacal hisses and shrieks pricking your skin, sick swirling threatening to leave the contents of your stomach on the floor, and the music stomping and fading. “Cloister of the Temple of Death” has a pretty great riff getting things going, eerie noises chilling, and echoing, disorienting sounds spilling out. It feels like being in the middle of a codeine syrup-laced dream, with the harps binding your brain, sung chants rising, and eventually heavy thrashing bloodying lips. The back end is plastered with blood-curdling shrieks and a spiral of hell. “Gatekeeper’s Scroll” has guitars marring, gurgling growls that sound like tar collecting in the back of Ascaris’ throat, and a slow-churning assault. Warped singing that feels like it’s coming from the middle of an out-of-body experience emerges, with death growls returning and melodies lapping over it all. “Alchemy” is the oddball, with atmospheric winds whipping, strange beats popping out, and spoken incantations boiling, with Ascaris murmuring, “Souls like water.”

“Levitating Stones” has riffs rushing, strange weeping that feels dark and disturbing, and choral parts coating the background, giving the song a haunting presence. Fierce growls then tear at you, with fucked up patterns stymying your senses, smeared shrieks and warbles adding to the horrors, and the darkness flowing into “Emanation.” There, moans sound like an injured soul, be it physically, mentally, or both, suffering, ending in wet chokes. A black riff starts boiling and tears into the track’s body, rampaging and destroying, eventually imploding and building itself back up again. Monstrous sounds drill you, with the guitars dizzying and hammering away, leaving your world spinning as you dig into 13:37 closer “Meditation of Transcendental Evil.” The harp staggers and strikes, with nearly inhuman cries reaching out and horns stinging your nerves. It’s a hellish display, like you’re in the middle of a dark nightmare from which you’ll emerge deep in fever. There are so many layers of insanity, it’s impossible to even reach a hand to the surface. Cool drum beats and scary ambiance mix and form a different type of a ghoulish being, with everything folding into a noise pit, with sparks flying at you, riffs forming a relentless vortex, and sanity finally emerging as the dark visions finally relent. How you feeling? Pretty discombobulated? Unaware of where or even who you are? Believe it or not, that’s normal.

Ævangelist continue to remain strange players in the metal world, a band that twists and warps sounds, making you wonder if what you’re hearing is music or some sort of transmission from beyond. “Enthrall to the Void of Bliss” is a step further into their vortex of madness and a creation even they won’t be able to repeat. With 20 Buck Spin behind them, hopefully “Enthrall to the Void of Bliss” can get even more traction in the States and find a larger helping of people to terrify.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.20buckspin.com/collections/music

For more on the label, go here: http://www.20buckspin.com/