Photo by Kathleen Kennedy

The world is not a very easy place in which to live. Shit, the United States can be the most frustrating, maddening, just-give-up plane of existence anywhere, despite our endless, somewhat hollow boasts about it being the greatest country in the world. Hardly a day goes by where I don’t want to place my head down and end up somewhere more peaceful and accepting, later realizing that would probably be somewhere not of this planet.

So we carry on, and despite the daily reminders of just how fucked we are in this existence, it’s not like life doesn’t also have its wonderful moments that align heart, mind, and spirit. You just have to find a sense of calm and understanding for yourself, a proverbial silver lining in a blackened sky that seems to offer no sense of hope. That is something that’s hit me pretty hard the past couple of weeks considering what’s been in the news as well as the comic coincidence that I had been listening pretty frequently to “Litany,” the second record from Texas-based septet Dead to a Dying World. The band’s new record, a follow-up to their 2011 self-titled debut, is comprised of six movements that struggle to find that positivity and hope in the middle of a dark sea in which it feels like the only thing surrounding is the lack of humanity and the death of compassion. They obviously feel this too, but instead of wallowing and dying in it, they push through and create a triumphant, Western-dusted dose of doom that feels expansive, wonderfully creative, and completely defiant of giving into hopelessness. It’s a perfect soundtrack for what I’d been feeling lately and never once failed to lift my spirit.

Anyone familiar with this band knows that a journey with them is not a simple one. There are many layers and twists and turns that keep you awake and alert. “Litany” is a record that, while quite lengthy, should be experienced beginning to end with no breather. It sweeps you up and lets you feel the hellish lows followed by the triumphant highs. The band—vocalists Mike Yeager (ex-Scavenger) and Heidi Moore (formerly of Ecocide), guitarists Sean Mehl and Greg Prickett, bassist James Magruder (ex-Embolization), viola player Eva Vonne (also of Sabbath Assembly), and drummer Cyrus Meyers (formerly of The Fear of the Sun)—weave amazing Apocalyptic tapestries on this record, their sound fairly indescribable but should appeal to fans of bands as varied as Across Tundras, ISIS, Murder By Death, and Neurosis. This feels like dusty doom theater, music that crushes and thrashes but also provides a nighttime desert-laced vibe, where you stare at the night sky wondering where you must go next just in order to survive mentally. This record is so gigantic, in fact, that three labels are dealing this thing, with Gilead Media, Tofu Carnage, and Alerta Antifascista all bringing this thing into the world.

“The Hunt Eternal” opens the record, a 16:44 journey that begins with noise and strings before it bursts. Harsh shrieks rain down, bringing the abrasion along with them, before calm settles and clean singing emerges. Obviously with a song this long, there are plenty of tempo changes, going from loud to soft, and moments even feel a little woodsy. Moore’s vocals then take over, as the serenity continues but a storm is on the horizon, and once it strikes, it brings energy and fury, with monstrous vocals poking at your raw wounds. A fog then rises, dark rumbling situates underground, and the strings drop a curtain over everything. “Cicatrix” has a quiet, murky opening, with group singing blending, and darkness settles in that’s both ghostly and theatrical. The song also has that aforementioned Western feel, making it seem like you’re on a chilly nighttime walk all alone. “Eventide” goes 14:23, and it trickles in slowly with strings and a moderate pace. The vocals then poke, feeling barked and brawny, as an Americana-style melody takes over. The song is sweeping and gripping, with the tale being roared, and the music causing the earth to quake. The track eventually works its way out of stormy waters, bouncing calmly and floating off into the darkness.

“Beneath the Loam” is the second-longest cut at 16:32, and light guitar and strings begin to soak the ground. The song bolts open, as every element rages with fire and the vocals feel like they’re pounding their way through your chest. Later, the track delves close to black metal terrain, and riffs surge in a flurry, coating you with chaos and making you fear for your well-being. Things then get morbid and morose, lurking along and making your bones ache. That flow remains calculated until things start to boil again, as the vocals are utterly savage, the strings cry out in pain, and the band hits a gazey rambling that’s ferocious and infectious. “Sick and Sunder” is another shorter song (then again, 5:52 is long for many other bands) that’s built on dusty, eerie sounds, guitars drizzling, Vonne’s viola moaning, and a deep cloud cover setting in and stretching into 14:33-long closer “Narcissus.” The start of the song is moody before sparks fly and the band hits full throttle. The band hammers heavily, laying waste to everything around them before settling into a peaceful stretch that’s incredibly atmospheric. More jolts strike, as clean singing leads the way and starts to paint a picture of defiant strength, as the line, “The blade is sharp against my throat,” insists the idea of flinching or blinking in the eye of death is unthinkable. The final moments are beautiful, glorious, and battle-worn, giving the sense that while some battles were lost, the long war can be won.

This record might not soothe everything that ails you all the time, but I’ll be damned if “Litany” hasn’t made a ton of sense at a time when stress with dealing with humanity has been at its highest. Dead to a Dying World’s mission is worthy and volcanic, one that fits into much of the metal landscape that inspired them but also stands atop as something totally different. There may not be a permanent solution to life’s ending frustrations, but having a band like Dead to a Dying World that understands and can translate your woes into music is a helpful thing to have when you feel like you’re the only person inhabiting a corner of the world flooded with hopelessness. They get it, and they just may have an answer for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And here: https://www.facebook.com/Alerta-Antifascista-Records-official-128382047223480/timeline/

Photo by Invisible Hour

The more I hear music that makes me stop and pay attention, the happier I am. I know we’ve been over this ad nauseam, but being a writer who is inundated with releases on a daily basis, getting music to grab you is by no means automatic. In fact, it often falls into that “pleasant surprise” category.

Spending some time with “The Camel, The Lion, The Child” by He Whose Ox Is Gored was one of those experiences for me. That didn’t come as a surprise, really. So maybe I’m undoing my opening. Anyhow, poring through these eight tracks that spill over about an hour was a true pleasure, an experience with heavy music that will not be matched by any other band this year. That is so refreshing. I love a lot of the music I hear each week, hence even having this site, but this is one of those that made me think less like a critic and more like a person who enjoys music and a colorful journey. This record packs that, mixing death, doom, prog, and post-metal seamlessly and promising anyone who encounters it that they’re not in for the run-of-the-mill, hear-it-and-it’s-done release. You’ll come back, and when you do, you’ll notice plenty of things you didn’t the first time. Or the second. Or the third. Come to think of it, this can be a theme for this week’s writings, because the offerings are rich for this kind of thing.

He Whose Ox Is Gored hail from Seattle and boast one of those lineups that is not nearly as large as the expansive music hints it should be. Brian McClelland handles guitars and vocals; Lisa Mungo is on synth and vocals; Mike Sparks provides bass and vocals; while John O’Connell is behind the kit. They make a damn huge sound, the four of them, one that weaves in and out of peaks and valleys, coming off as something you can’t quite pinpoint. The band has been together since 2009, releasing their first EP “Op Amps” a year later and following that up with “Op Amps II: Into the Ether,” produced by Tad Doyle. Their “Nightshade” EP arrived after that, with their “Rumors” 7” coming out last year, paving the way for this gargantuan new full-length. Now you’re caught up.

“Oathbreaker” is your first taste of the record, combining spacey oddness with proggy riffs and rushing keys that churn and develop a nice, cool atmosphere. A quick burst of growls are the only words you hear, and then we head into “Omega.” This punchy, synth-swept piece starts paving its path, leading toward aggressiveness and crunch. By the way, speaking of the keys, they play a major role on this album. They provide texture, lush air, and a cosmic spirit that are crucial to making these songs what they are. Really nice touch. Anyhow, the back end of the song reminds a bit of Cult of Luna, as the throaty yells and exploratory riffs push their way and bleed into “Crusade.” The keys rise to the surface, while the song gets heavier and more aggressive, with singing and howls meeting up with wrenching growls. The pace calms, with strange keyboard woven in and Mungo singing, feeling something like a warped Yes song. This leads into “Zalatype” that has a carefully paced introduction, keys whirring, and the song opening up, with the vocals advising, “Raise the all-knowing eye!” The final moments are both heavy and gothically inspired, blasting its way to the finish.

“Alpha” swims in sounds at the start, with clean guitars trickling in and washed-out vocals that give the song an alien feel. Later the track blows up, as harsh growls rip into the scene, and prog-fueled riffs churn and spiral. Riffs erupt from “Magazina” right from the start, with howled vocals, synth bleeding heavily, and the playing getting tricky and crazed, making your mind spin and your body ache. It’s one of the most aggressive songs on the record, and gives you a good rumbling before the first of two epics, the 7:16 “Cairo.” The track slowly comes to life, with keys glimmering and creating an imaginative setting before the song blasts open, playing and toying with tempos and your mind. The tempo does a lot of switching back and forth, from flowing calm paths to volcanic highs, all the while building layers impossible to dig through to the bottom. The final moments go cold, as a sense of calm returns and slowly fades. The 9:12 finale “Weighted By Guilt, Crushed Into a Diamond” (and who can’t relate to that title?) has guitars dripping in, murky synth creating a haze, and Mungo’s moody vocals pushing the way, making you feel every ounce of the struggle. That cloudiness doesn’t last forever, as a lightning bolt of sound jolts the thing, with vocals turn to wild howls, and you feel like you’re being rolled over and over into mud and glass. While there are passages of serenity, most of the song’s final minutes are pounding and penetrating, with growls whipping at you and the sounds burning to the finish line.

He Whose Ox Is Gored not only have put together a great record with “The Camel, The Lion, The Child,” they’ve created something that truly stands out in a sea of albums released this year. There is heaviness, serenity, wildness, and restraint, and it’s an album that never feels the same way twice. Hopefully this record will open more people’s eyes to this band and swell their following.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://bleedinglightrecords.bigcartel.com/artist/he-whose-ox-is-gored

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

Some things come at you from out of nowhere, with no previous hype, no warning whatsoever, and not even a inkling at what’s about to be at your feet. It’s refreshing and a little bit scary to go into something with no background or idea of what’s ahead, but that also can be enthralling. Slate arrives clean.

Shrine of Insanabilis’ debut record “Disciples of the Void” was kind of like that. Sure, I’m used to getting promo material from WTC Productions, and generally it’s quality and completely terrifying. But this band was something a little different. They formed just this year, there is no lineup announced (only a photo of four shadowy figures), and nothing else to go on but the music contained inside. Imagine that: Forming an opinion on something purely out of what you hear and not based on what each member has done outside the band on in their private lives. The band apparently is obsessed with the concept of voids, itself a scary, mysterious subject matter, and funny enough, it’s like the band emerged from inside of such space.

The material here is ferocious and wonderfully in line with pure black metal. It has its strange, icy ways, no doubt, but if you’re a fan of just being bludgeoned by sound, you’re bound to be pleased by “Disciples of the Void.” The music is harsh, fast, violent, and twists and turns you in the nightmarish vortex they create. This record even has double coverage as far as labels go, with WTC (CD and digital) and awesome Stateside label Fallen Empire (vinyl) each working to get this German band’s horrors out into the world. That extra effort will be well worth it.

“End All” is the strange, ominous opening that swirls all over and eventually begins to blister, leading into “Ruina” that bursts open at the seams. The harsh vocals crush heavily, with the music coming off speedy and relentless, and everything is ripped apart. The vocals are ratcheted up a notch, as the band starts rumbling, the pace is wrenching, and the song comes to a dramatic conclusion, with blood rushing everywhere. “Acausal Paths” has riffs racing hard, with an infusion of melody adding color, and the vocals sounding like they’re mangling the messenger’s throat. The pace starts to settle, like a cloud cover is hanging overhead threatening downpour, and from there the soloing begins to rage, and the band clobbers everything in front of it. Strange instrumental “………..” is chilling and morbid, with a preacher howling over top, threatening damnation, and that sets up “Invocation,” which erupts totally from the word go. The growls are ferocious, which is no surprise, with melodies lapping up, feedback surging, and slow pounding suffocating. Guitars stretch out and scorch, with weird speaking growls lurching, the tempo blowing up, and the final moments torching the hairs on your arm.

“Still of This Earth” is a swelling, fiery epic at 9:44, and it launches with a slow open, with the band taking time to set the mood, boiling and stinging you with their playing. Then it rips open, with maddening growls scraping and the band stomping along with blood thirst. We later slip into cold, calculating waters, as the music rains down, the path suddenly swirls and sickens, and the band conjures a devastating ending that could end cities. “Cycles and Circles” keeps the vertigo in place, especially as the guitars take a tornadic path, and the vocals feel downright sinister. Again, there are colorful melodies to add different dashes to their horrific style, and the dark riffs that build up at the back end pile on the mud and death. “Acerbus” drills and penetrates, eating away at your psyche as the band packs on gruff growls, the mid-tempo pace burns, and a mystical sense gushes free, engulfing the song and washing out the insanity. Closer “Omega” is a quick conclusion built on noise zaps, solemn keys, and guitars blinding, as the track, and the entire document, echoes to a finish.

Shrine of Insanabilis is a breath of dank, dismal air, and their “Disciples of the Void” is a furious entrance into the world, where black metal could use a vicious wake-up call. While the band is transfixed with the concept of nothingness, their music is anything but that. It’s a towering inferno of passion, a collection of incantations that should haunt and leave you battered. The thick layer of mystery over the band only enhances the strangeness of their black mission.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://w-t-c.web-republic.de/store/

Or here: http://store.fallenempirerecords.com/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.w-t-c.org/

And here: http://www.fallenempirerecords.com/

This time of the year is peculiar for me. I love that the weather is hinting colder, that rains last longer and result in breezes rather than steam. I appreciate watching the warmest season of the year fade away and enter decay. It’s also a strange one for me because, as an active, practicing hypochondriac, I know the season of illness is approaching, which always makes me apprehensive of my surroundings.

That’s a weird one, if you can’t relate. The fear of the invisible that can attack your insides, leaving you vulnerable. Washing your hands to a bloody mess is not pleasing, and it’s not always fun to be me sometimes. Yet I try not to let that take away from the appreciation of the seasons and the colder months, when I often do my most intimate music listening. It’s an ideal time to peel away the layers and get more in touch with what’s inside you and that temporary nakedness of nature. Therefore, I always find myself poring through music, trying to find albums in which I can disappear and transform. It takes away from irrational fear, and it reminds me again why I devote so much of my time to metal and its surroundings. I had my first real, profound experience like that this part of the year with Blood of the Black Owl’s new record “WARmth,”one of the most intriguing in that project’s entire collection.

Over the course of five full-lengths and several smaller releases, Chet W. Scott has taken his Blood of the Black Owl project and made it one of the most interesting in all of music. Forget just metal. His canvas is much larger than what a genre or sub-genre provides, and he has expanded that thinking again with the 92-minute “WARmth,” a record that takes some time to fully expose itself. I’ve had the album since around its August release date, and while I like to get on the record closer to when music officially reaches the world, I decided to take my time here. That idea really paid off for me as a listener and a writer. Many may know BotBO for the wrenching, often bizarre-sounding black metal of albums past, and that’s very much a part of the DNA. What you hear continues a path set with “Spirit Canoe: Hailing Father Sky,” the companion EP to 2012’s “Light the Fires!” itself an evolutionary step forward for this project. The music also harkens back to Scott’s Ruhr Hunter (which became Cycle of the Raven Talons) and is music that is rooted in indigenous sounds, nature’s glory, medicinal chants, spiritual awakenings, and ritualistic incantations that will leave you both mesmerized and connected to something you perhaps never considered before. This record is lovely, enrapturing, and invigorating, and despite this project’s past, you cannot assign a label to what you hear on “WARmth.” It must be experienced, not described (even though I’m about to do just that).

“Two Feathers Become Nauthiz” opens the record, and at 16:08, it’s a very involved adventure. Joined by Rachel Boaz-Scott on vocals, the acoustic-led passage slowly makes its way along, with the two chanting, “Awaken,” before harsh cries ring out, woods ambiance makes it presence felt, and even some cosmic weirdness rears its head and smears the colors. The desperation builds, with Chet Scott wailing, “Your spirit comes to me through wood,” as the fires begin to burn anew, sounds churn, voices chant, and the plea, “I ask for your protection,” hangs in the air as the song fades. “Obsidian Clearing Through Dawn” plays a little louder, with whistles rumbling, acoustics rising, and droning voices harmonizing and buzzing through you. Melodies later emerge, as the sky grows cloudy, and then we’re off to “Rise: A Path Towards Seeing” that has shakers, whistles, and singing to rouse your soul. There are wails of, “Rise!” that come along with choral harmonies, making you feel as if you’re at the very foot of a ritual. “The Medicine Within” is a 13:17 sojourn that begins with hushed guitars, dueling layered vocals (clean struggling with gruff), and a haunting, emotional uprising, with horns leading the charge, and the declaration, “It’s time to live again,” followed by soft calls of, “It’s time to seek ourselves.” The tempo calms, knocks provoke, and we round back to an acoustic melody that takes the song to its end. “Hold Horizon Inside” has water trickling to start, with trippy vocal harmonies, droning noises coming from Scott’s throat, and a mesmerizing haze that feels comforting and mind-aligning.

“Shadow Vision: An Illumination of Black Fire!” follows, and its 10:10 trip starts in the arms of lush organs that spill into acoustics and cosmic eeriness. The singing is boisterous here, really pushing through and grabbing you, while much of the music is hushed and folky. Again we’re treated to clouds that seem to have swept in from the stars (a touch I really like), as more growling takes over, letting the feral intensity and calm mix together and fade away. “Solitude: Flame Rekindled Spirit” opens with more water rushing, with Scott noting, “Under the new moon, her senses fill my blood.” Horns blurt out, seeming to signal the arrival of another force, and then the track bursts to life. Acoustic guitars are strummed with might, whistles cry out, a sense of celebration is in the air, and gurgling howls lead the track to its final resting spot. “Luminous in WARmth” has a folk-infused start before it pushes ahead, with whistles firing, strange, psyched-out singing that feels trance-inducing, and chants rolling in again, with recitation of “burning is learning.” That heads into a dreamy sequence that brings a sense of tranquility, setting the stage for the finale “Totems of Transformation.” Acoustic picking rises while bells are struck, with Scott singing quietly, thoughtfully, “If you talk to the animals, they will talk with you,” giving you some insight into a profound connection with nature. Psyche bursts arrive, filling the sky with color and stars you want to stare at for hours. Noises build, growls return to the mix, and some of the words are barked harshly, as if Scott is getting in touch with his animalistic spirit as the track rumbles to its finish.

Unabashedly, I am a big fan of Scott’s music, and I appreciate that with every step in Blood of the Black Owl’s progression, we go somewhere different, unexplored, unimaginable. There are times when I listen to this record that I feel like the music is encircling me, like a restless spirit hoping to rustle me away so I can be enlightened or at least in touch with something more meaningful than the bulk of what makes up everyday life. Fears dissipate, I am awakened, and the primal energy that greets me with every visit to “WARmth” keeps me inspired as a listener and eager to keep taking this journey as the cold melts in warmth again.

For more on the band and to buy the album, go here: https://glassthroatrecordings.bandcamp.com/album/warmth

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

Photo by Kristen Coffer

Maybe this has been going on all along, or maybe I’m just now waking up to it, but there are a ton of bands that, when they put out a record, they immediately get dismissed. Look, I love metal and defend it always, but there are some things that are just utterly stupid to me. Like if a band does something positive in a popularity sense, the genre will die.

So I dangle my metal card today (as I did when discussing Myrkur) with Deafheaven, who have returned with their third record “New Bermuda.” I don’t have a metal card. It’s so dumb. I know. The way I’ve always looked at metal is part of it is rebellion. It’s a lashing out at the norm, but when bands do that within the genre, it seems to be some unforgivable sin. Well, that’s boring and I don’t care to make that a part of what shapes my listening. I’ve always enjoyed Deafheaven’s music, and I do to this day. Their greatest “transgression” is they don’t adhere to a formula or tradition and always pushed boundaries, something I always consider pretty metal. Oh, and they’re popular beyond metal, another miscue over which they have no control. OK all tongue-in-cheek aside, Deafheaven have done some pretty good stuff thus far, and their new record is pretty surprising.

“Sunbather” was a pretty dreamy record, a document of desire and weird existence where you try to make sense of your life, your surroundings, and your nature. Their new record “New Bermuda” musically is something a little different. The music is much heavier and more abrasive for the most part, yet when they pull back, it’s more atmospheric and interesting. They add new twists to their music, most of it in the guitar work, and they keep building a universe that is wholly theirs. Their jump to Anti (home to life-long bad-ass artists Neko Case and Tom Waits) seems fitting, and a whole new audience will be exposed to their sounds. I fail to see the negativity in that.

“Brought to the Water,” which many people of the Internet have heard by now, kicks off with scathing noise, bells chiming, and a total eruption, with the guitars from Kerry McCoy and Shev Mehra swelling and creating texture, but also chugging like never before. The vocals even are a little different, more calculated and meaner, with the sound feeling as metallic as this band ever has. In fact, it doesn’t really sound like Deafheaven of the past at all. Melodies sweep in, atmosphere takes hold, but before everything gives way, there’s a final savage burst before pianos drip. “Luna” is completely volcanic at the start, some of the heaviest moments of this band’s catalog. The vocals are wrenching, exactly what you’d expect from vocalist George Clarke, while more colors flood the scene, emotions surge, and quiet eventually takes hold. Notes ring out, hinting at a swarm of beauty, but things get ruptured as the power surges again and the end blisters. “Come Back” starts making your head feel like it’s floating through the clouds, with the guitars rolling in and lulling you into numbness. Then you’re ripped into an inferno, with a thunderous pace, vicious growls, and total savagery. That pace keeps up, creating billowing smoke for the bulk of its run time, before it folds into the exact opposite environment. Chilled-out, ’70s-style guitars sweep in, feeling breezy and surfy, like you’re suddenly rolling alongside an expressway toward sandy beaches, where you will let yourself burn.

“Baby Blue” starts feeling spacey and rushing, almost like you’re expecting a mid-tempo rock song, complete with impassioned singing to come out of the other end. We know better now, but this also isn’t a total thunderstorm like the rest of the record. They pull back here a bit (even Clarke’s piercing growls settle down), and the wah-infused soloing makes for a nice change of pace, a completely different kind of headspace. Violence later erupts, as you knew it would, with all elements bursting and overflowing, the vocals crushing, and the music prowling toward a warm pocket of synth that fades into ambiance and transportation warning about traffic restrictions on the George Washington Bridge. Surreal stuff. Closer “Gifts for the Earth” is the one that still isn’t feeling totally right to me. There’s a fluid post-punk feel to the front end, a foggy bit that feels like it would benefit from some actual singing rather than the growling. Or perhaps that odd juxtaposition of sounds is supposed to make your skin crawl, and if so, that’s where I am with this. A psychedelic mist later takes over, marring your psyche, and as the track winds down, the bomb drops, the vocals sound as if Clarke’s guts are being ripped out (and maybe they are metaphorically), and the torment slowly dissolves into a bed of acoustic guitars and pianos as everything fades away.

No matter what Deafheaven do, they’re going to have their detractors. It sounds like from “New Bermuda” that they don’t pay a hell of a lot of attention to outside forces, nor should they. This is a heavy and channeled as they’ve sounded to date, a darker side to a band that already reveled in morose thoughts, loss, and out-of-touch-desires. Deafheaven have come at us with three completely different records now, and, like them or not, they remain an enthralling, relevant force.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://kingsroadmerch.com/deafheaven/region/

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

EDITOR’S NOTE: This review was written and posted in advance before the story of Kerry McCoy’s use of homosexual slurs on Twitter came to light. We don’t yet understand the context of his tweets, though we certainly do not condone hateful speech toward anyone of any sexual identification, nor anyone at all. It’s unfortunate these tweets are now putting a bit of a pall over a pretty great record. Hopefully he clarifies and apologizes.

We’re always reminded to embrace life, not to take things or people for granted, and that in a split second everything could be gone. Existence is fragile, and it’s not until we’re faced with losing something, or finding ourselves facing fate, that these things come into focus. A lot of metal music celebrates these things and makes them into something that’s quasi-celebrated. It’s fun theater. But reality feels a lot worse.

A band that could tell you a hell of a lot about that is Behold! The Monolith, a band that was making a nice dent in the suddenly burgeoning sludge doom scene with their crushing 2012 release “Defender, Redeemist.” It was brutal, muddy, and a damn good time, a fantastical platter with bloody roots that was a mauler with every listen. But then the worst possible scenario reared ugly head: vocalist Kevin McDade was killed in a car accident, and suddenly everything was up in the air. Not only did the band find its momentum halted and a vital member of the band gone, but they lost a comrade with whom they built their path and developed their following. Had that been the end of the band, no one would have batted an eye. It would have been a shame to lose such a promising band, but fate is a fucker sometimes.

Luckily, Behold! The Monolith were not about to bow to such fate. Yes, they were bruised, hurting, surely lost inside, but they refused to call it the end. Because of that, we are very lucky to have the band’s brand new record “Architects of the Void” to discuss. There was a good chance this third record never would have seen the light of day, but on a steed rushing through the night into battle, here it is sounding gigantic, vicious, and so true to the band’s spirit. First listen to this record, it was just wonderful to hear the band intact. Subsequent listens allowed the essence of the music to sink in and what these guys—guitarist Matt Price, drummer Chase Manhattan, new bassist Jason “Cas” Casanova, and the man taking over for McDade on vocals Jordan Nalley—accomplished on this seven-track, nearly 50-minute behemoth. The fires still burn, they maintain their burly edge, and they have created a record that only should solidify their standing.

“Umbral Veil” gets things going with slow-hammering doom, lurching growls, and a haze that is both misty and monstrous. There are some strong dual lead guitar bits cutting through the murk, while a sense of mournful glory emerges and bleeds into “Philosopher’s Blade.” Here, the drums awake early and pound, while the pace opens up and starts drubbing. The screams from Nalley are fiery and forceful, while nasty blasts make their way in and the band starts churning. The growls peel the flesh from your arms, while a strong solo tears through, and the track comes to a bashing end. “The Mithriditist” is muddy and stomping at the start, with some cleaner singing that reminds of earlier Mastodon, and the song going to strange, mystical areas. Yet a guttural twist comes out of that, with heavy fire raining down, guitars meting rock, and smothering noise slamming the door shut. “Lord of Bones” is an ominous one, with slow carnage bruising and the track getting fully into the darkness. The pace is thrashy, while riffs take command, and the gritty growls and volcanic leads give the back end of the track a destructive, bloody feel.

“Black Days Of…” sweeps in, a quick instrumental cut that’s full of strange noises, bleak vibes, and a cosmic atmosphere that clouds your mind. “Between Order and the Vistula” follows that, igniting from the start, with a stomping assault, bluesy guitars catching on, and the track coming to terrifying life. The whole thing splits open, with the tempo kicking up, screamy singing lacerating you, and a psychedelic edge emerging that gives this piece a pretty cool texture. The last half of the song is vicious and catchy, swaggering and sludgy, and a blast of crippling fury. The epic 14:10 closing title cut is wonderfully riffy, with the tempo taking its damn time, and the punishment being dealt in a calculated manner. There are smudgy bits, with fierce vocals dominating, cosmic blips adding frostiness, and a hopelessly pulverizing push that feels like one well-placed body blow after another. A drone void emerges, almost like a huge, mysterious space cloud, yet guitars cut out of that, with the playing waylaying and coming to a deafening crescendo, and noise sizzling and corroding over the record’s final, glorious minutes.

Just saying “Architects of the Void” is a triumph merely because it exists would short-change the great music Behold! The Monolith conjured here. Out of unspeakable tragedy that could put an end to most bands, these guys got up, collected themselves, and started making their barbaric drive all over again. It’s inspiring hearing these guys carry on and keep setting uncontrollable fires only they can tame, and this new beginning for the band not only should remind us of the fragility of life but also of perseverance and strength. All hail Behold! The Monolith.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://beholdthemonolith.bandcamp.com/album/architects-of-the-void

No one wants to do anything on a Monday. No one. People who tell you they’re super ambitious on a Monday are liars. Period. They’re lying to you to seem all motivated and all that garbage when, in reality, they’re dying inside just like you are.

That in mind, we won’t try to force you to tackle an entire full-length release today. But we will take you on a trip through a gnarly new 7” split effort offered by Broken Limbs that pits Leather Chalice and Human Bodies like two angry vipers trying to get at one another and do as much damage as possible. This four-track effort is heavy, nasty, and should make you get in touch with all the disgust lining the bottom of your entrails that makes you want to lie down and give up. And look, the thing is not even 10 minutes long, so it’s not like you can’t find time during your busy, annoying day to bathe in filth and get some perspective for your life. So quit being a baby and just listen to this.

Human Bodies

We’ll start off with Human Bodies portion of this display. This band hailing from Boston only has been together for a couple of years now, but they’ve already brought a lot to the table as far as recorded material goes. Human Bodies already have three demo recordings, a full-length, and a compilation out there, and the two tracks we get here continues their black, infernal intensity that’s slowly making its way across the world. The band currently consists of guitarist/vocalist Terzakis, guitarist/vocalist Gabe, bassist Jason, and drummer Dan, and they’re just at the beginning of their reign of terror, one that could result in them being one of the deadliest bands in underground metal.

Human Bodies’ section (recorded during the sessions for their full-length “No Life”) kicks off with “Only the Sigh,” as noise torment rips across everything and the track tears open with intensity. There is a chaotic haze that is nicely washed out, maniacal vocals, and thunderous power that walks a border between punk and black metal. A fiery bit of soloing emerges and leaves streaks of blood, and it spills right into “Malice Prepense.” “Carve the arms of the ones who cause mistrust,” is howled, as the pace blisters, the shrieks are harsh and callous, and the band hits a nice thrash pocket that will leave you devastated. The riffs are mighty here, their personality is gruff, and they allow their noise assault to fade out into the night. It’s but two songs and just a few minutes, but Human Bodies have struck a chord and should keep piling up kills from here.

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

Leather Chalice (photo by returntothepit.com)

Leather Chalice also are here to challenge you, grate you, rub your face in whatever it is you call metal, and do it all with an attitude that borders on reckless. The New Hampshire-based one-man black metal project, helmed by Jann, has been around just a year longer than Human Bodies and have a mess of recordings out there. There are two demos, an EP, their full-length “Sweet Perfume of Coffin Air,” and a slew of split releases with bands such as Caught and Sumpt. This music is frightfully noisy and smothering, with a bunch of influences of metal’s past woven into the wasp swarm of noise. Their tracks here are part of a “Coming Home” duo and they are perverse, disturbing, and violent songs that could shake the uninhibited, or just the unadventurous, to their core.

We kick off with “Good Intentions” that has wild shrieks, thick riffs, and a damaged sense of NWOBHM power looming behind the thick smoke. The guitar tones are weird and otherworldly, making you feel like you’re the one whose head should be questioned, and the words that swirl in a rage should make you feel anything but comfortable. “Last Gifts of Worship” follows, a tale of torture, sex, and blood, a disturbing combination that make some shiver at its filthy recollections. Yet this music is meant to be ugly, and it is every step of the way, from the crazed growls, to the grinding tempo that feels like being hit and ground to bits by a car, to the punk thrash riffs that rise up and, as quickly as they arrived, fade out. Leather Chalice leave very little to the imagination, and considering the road they’re on, they could become one of the most feared, reviled black metal bands out there. Check this split if you know what’s good for you.

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

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/

I have a pretty decent obsession with Jonestown and the events that took place, especially the mass fatalities that occurred at the end of the Jim Jones-led cult’s existence in November 1978. I relish any documentary about the events, and I even have CNN’s recent look at the cult on my DVR. I’ve already watched it several times.

There’s something about the apparent salvation the People’s Temple members thought they were achieving and what actually went down. A raving, drug-addled lunatic had lured them away from friend and family to ultimately meet their fate. And when Congressman Leo Ryan and an NBC news crew touched down in November of that fateful year (ultimately they would be gunned down on an air strip by cult members), many disillusioned members thought they finally found real hope. Very few were right. It’s these themes of death, suicide, regret, and fearing a vengeful god that fuels the songs on Dalla Nebbia’s new album “Felix Culpa.” The record isn’t about Jonestown mind you, but there is a song on there that very much digs into that situation that really stood out for me as the center piece. Around that are tracks that, while not a concept piece, still touch on the darkness and despair living inside of us and the extinguishing of our earthly flames.

Dalla Nebbia formed in South Carolina, one of the more unlikely beds for progressive black metal. Over the past five years, they’ve crafted their sound, releasing a demo and EP before the arrival of their debut full-length “The Cusp of the Void” in 2013. The band—guitarist/vocalist/programmer Yixja (also of Mesmur), vocalist Zduhac, bassist Tiphareth, and drummer Alkurion (Funeral Age, Mesmur) bring a rustic, rushing sense to their music. It’s heavy and adventurous, sometimes coming closer to death than black, but they also balance that with musical delicacy, cosmic sparks, and smooth clean singing that often reminds of American folk music.

“Momento Mori” begins the record as a murky, foggy intro cut complete with flutes, glock, and a woodsy ambiance that flows into “Until the Rain Subsides,” the first giant on a record full of them. The riffs ignite as the melody flows, and creaky growls send us over the verses. At the chorus, the singing kicks up, creating a chorus section that is memorable and sticky enough to embed itself inside your head. The song has its multiple progressions, as most of the tracks do, and it comes out of the mist to surge to the finish line. “Abandoned Unto Sky” is speedy and crushing at the start, with the drums devastated, the guitars swelling, and the vocals weaving horrors such as finding abandoned body parts scattered about. The track is rupturing and dark, with more strong singing and melodic growls that get inside your blood. “Lament of Aokigahara” references Japan’s Suicide Forest, and the pall cast over the song from the subject matter alone is enough to weigh you down. “Prepare thyself for finality,” is howled, leaving a chill in the air, and amid melodies bubbling and majestic passages that surge is that sense of devastation and dread. As the song reaches a huge crescendo, the line, “The perfect place to die,” lets the gravity hover as the song bleeds away. “The Banner of Defiance” gets off to a raucous start, with blasts leading in but then subsiding. Folky singing emerges, as the tempo calms a bit, but we’re never far from the next burst. Later, any hint of savagery melts into cold guitars and blurry keys, giving off a dream effect. Thick strings from guest Sareeta cut through the murk as layers of darkness pile up and bring a suffocating exit.

“Not Within the Stone” has some razor-sharp leads followed by glimmering melodies, melodic growls, and a wave of singing bursting out of the din. In fact, there’s even some harmonizing, making things seem a little breezy in the forest, and that leads into tumultuous, emotional guitars, lurching growling, and a sense of deep sorrow permeating all. The title cut lets loose growls early, with sounds blurring, the drums being thrashed, and later some woodsy vocal melodies slipping in to add texture. There is thick, rich atmosphere, almost like a late spring day, and the back end sizzles and leads into “Das Gelachter Gottes,” a quick instrumental built on strange percussion, spacey sounds, and overall weirdness, an ideal segue into the ugliest chapter on the record, “Paradise in Flames.” Strings emerge, as does the scratchy recording of Jim Jones and he’s about to convince his followers to drink his poisonous concoction and fade into death. The pace plods along, with psychedelic echoes ringing out, and the keys creating a lush bed. But the volume and intensity rise all the while, as the volatility of the situation becomes clear. One final cold wave of music, accompanied by Jones’ madman ranting, and the track suddenly is engulfed in flames. A damn-near euphoric melody sweeps in, as the growls emerge, noting, “The poison is sweet,” while the sheer terror of one of the most infamous events in history fades out with its perpetrator uttering along with it. Closer “The Silent Transition” is a quiet, mournful ending, as if it’s soundtracking the passage of one’s essence from one plane to the next, and while beauty and peace finally emerge, it’s impossible to shake what you’ve just heard.

These are heavy thoughts and heavy themes on “Felix Culpa,” and Dalla Nebbia deliver these sentiments with the proper amount of respect to the subject matters and unleashing of their spirits. This is a record that sounded thunderous on first listen, but as I worked my way through the album again and again, more of the overall atmospheres and philosophies became apparent. It’s both an immediate record and a grower, and it’s one that I’ll keep sojourning through as my own existence shapes and shifts its meanings, traveling through both dark and light.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://razedsoul.ipower.com/rzd/095.htm

Or here: https://dallanebbia.bandcamp.com/

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

Not all music is meant to be embraced from the first moment the music reveals itself. There are records that must be earned, bands that keep you at arm’s length, and sometimes it takes a stretch of patience and understanding for someone’s art to really sink in and make its point. Often times, those are the albums that end up sticking with me the longest.

That happened recently on a drive home from work as all I wanted to do was get home and bury myself inside. With my mind icing over, I needed something to jar me, and I turned to “Au de La,” the second record from Montreal trio Big | Brave that I had visited with a few times before that. I found the five-track offering interesting and different, but it hadn’t really sunk its teeth into me yet. But on that commute homeward, something happened and everything made sense. The thick drone carried me, the jarring crashing of their dual guitars and one devastated drum kit felt like lightning bolts going through me, and the swirling, stabbing vocals stood out and proclaimed what I was hearing as something that would not be equaled by anyone else that year. By that I mean there’s not another band that possibly could replicate what Big | Brave achieve on this record.

There is a tenacity and intensity to Big | Brave’s music, yet they can pull back and hypnotize you with quiet passages where it seems serenity will win. But it never does. Changes burst like lava, and the band seems to take a loose, improvised path through much of what’s going on here. Robin Wattie’s voice grabs you and forces you to listen, chanting mercilessly, wailing at the top of her lungs, and often feeling like she is going off the hinges as she expresses every dark fiber inside of her. Mathieu Bernard Ball’s agitated guitars and Louis-Alexandre Beauregard’s sometimes exploratory, often primal drumming adds to the power of this trio and make them a band from which you can’t turn your eyes and ears. As the music builds, so will the intensity in your soul, and first visits to this record could fill you with nervous energy as your try to anticipate each of their curves.

“On the By and By and Thereon” opens with guitars wailing repetitively, with feedback squalling, Wattie’s singing stuttered, and the machine creating a loop of fury. The power subsides a bit, slithering in the undertow, before the vocals return as a yelp, the cymbals are bashed, and the sounds lead to a finish that slowly subsides. “Look at How the World Has Made a Change” goes 11:52, and it squeezes every ounce out of that time with the first few minutes feeling spacey and floating, as the ambiance builds, and a hint of danger is on the horizon. The noise quivers and aches, while sounds pulsate beneath, the drums are struck, and what sounds like horns start to blare. The singing picks up its fire, as the band comes alive, blasting away, thrashing your senses, and timing their blasts with precision that makes the song feel even heavier than it is. “do.no.harm.do.no.wrong.Do.No.Harm.Do.Know.Wrong” has feedback howling, the smudging feeling prehistorically massive, and even some bluesy heat ripping out of the guitar work. Things get a little faster here, with Wattie’s vocals scraping and scathing, twisting into shrieks and shouts, and the final moments blazing shockingly.

“And as the Waters Go” is the unquestioned main event and the perfect portrait of how well this band builds strength and anticipation. The guitars start to stab as Wattie’s vocals cut through and rise above the murk. Her singing sprawls, lathered with rage sometimes, seeking release in other moments, and all the while, the bed of sound is gathering at her feet. This is where the band feels the least structured in the best way, and it’s like they built layer upon layer of heavy fog and smashing violence, doing whatever their commanding desires compelled them to do and creating a raging inferno all the while. The final moments let the haze set in, as the band slowly crashes on their instruments, never letting you know when they’ll relent and making you hope they never do. Closer “(re)Collection Pt II” is the longest cut at 13:18, and it allows humidity to collect. Slow drum strikes begin to push, as the singing joins in and the pace plods along. There are powerful strikes, of course, but also sounds that whir and a mix of voices lashing out. All elements mash together and create thick cloud coverage, with percussion rambling, calm sliding in, and guitars making your hair wilt. The track works well as a comedown, a cooling spot, where the bruises you suffered earlier are dressed, and you’re allowed to disappear into night along with the band’s music.

Big | Brave’s cacophonous noise and cathartic shedding of energy feels amazing to hear play out on record, and I can only imagine what this feels like in a live setting. “Au de La” is a really boisterous record by a pretty special band that’s finally getting a bigger stage to show their stuff. Expect a journey unlike any one you’ve ever taken before, and if at first the music doesn’t swell you, give it time to get into your blood and change your frame of mind.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.bigbrave.ca/

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

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

If you’re a regular reader (and if you are, thanks!), you’ve probably noticed we’re gorging ourselves on doom the past few weeks. This is the best time of the year for the stuff, as the air gets colder, the summer dies, and spookiness is injected into everything. It’s just a perfect setting for doom metal, and that streak continues again today.

If there’s one major shot point most people probably made about UK doom beasts Witchsorrow, it’s that their sound draws pretty close to Electric Wizard worship. It’s not an inaccurate assessment, but that hardly disqualifies Witchsorrow from getting the proper adulation they deserve. Truth is, while they do pound and haunt in much the same manner as the aforementioned legends, this band stands on its own. Never has that been more apparent than on their fantastic new record “No Light, Only Fire.” In fact, the band clearly tries to step out of that lofty shadow and really crafts a record that shows a lot more of what Witchsorrow are capable of doing. In fact, if the band keeps going down this path, the Electric Wizard rumblings will go away, and more people will start to recognize how damn formidable this group is.

Witchsorrow flip the script a bit on “No Light, Only Fire,” and not just for them but for doom in general. There are some shorter cuts here, a few bursts of speed, and a more aggressive pace that the band hasn’t shown quite like this in the past. It’s a nice new side of the band, though don’t worry, the storming epics are here as well. But the album is better balanced and, as noted, we get to see more of the group’s true personality. The band remains intact from the lineup that created their mammoth second record “God Curse Us,” as Necroskull is on guitars and vocals, Emily Witch is on bass, and Wilbrahammer is on drums. This is a damn fine effort, and at eight tracks, 63 minutes, it is proportioned just right.

The band gets to work on “There Is No Light, There Is Only Fire,” which starts throwing punches right away. The band shows its newfound savagery on this song, as they go for the jugular with their playing, and even Necroskull spits out his words at a faster clip. The chorus is melodic and catchy, as he cries, “Chained to these demons forevermore,” and the band ends the thing with fire. “The Martyr” runs 9:01, and it slows the pace. “Beware the man with the truth in his hand,” Necroskull warns, as the band starts sludging along. The venom just grows from there, with, “I spit at your feet!” howled, as a mass of powerful soloing arrives and takes over. There is plenty of Sabbath influences here as well, from Necroskull’s howl of, “Oh yeah!” to the mystical bludgeoning. Great track. “Made of the Void” is the one cut where the Electric Wizard feel storms back, and I say that positively. The track is murky, echoey, and full of danger as the band accelerates their body count and revels in pure ugliness. “Negative Utopia” tells you all you really need to know with its title, as the band drives the hammer of doom hard and repeatedly. The soloing bathes in psychedelic fury, and as they are “watching the planet die,” they do their damnest to help rivers of lava flow and boil you as slowly and heavily as possible.

“To the Gallows” is another shorter one that crushes pretty hard. The track is charged up, Witch’s bass gallops with a fury, and the singing is a little gruffer than other areas of the record. The soloing smears again, the band slows the doors off the thing, and the howls of, “To the death!” hit like a lightning bolt. “Disaster Reality” spills over 11:25, and it trickles coldly and wickedly at the start. The power finally opens up, as the band hits a muddy, dangerous pace, lurching and slithering while the vocals find hints of melody. The menace woven into this one is apparent, as is the detached emotion of the vocals, sounding like they’re coming from a dying soul who realizes there is no hope in the future. Necroskull notes a force that “holds you down as you die in vain,” as the power flickers and finally fades. “Four Candles” is a quick acoustic-driven instrumental that spills into the finale “De Mysteriis Doom Sabbathas,” a track that first appeared on their limited edition 2013 EP of the same name. If you’ve heard it, you know what to expect. If you haven’t, get ready for a 14:23 drubbing filled with smoke-filled tones, total Iommi worship in the devastating riffs, psychedelic electricity, and a closing shot that proves this band’s power and fearsome dominance.

It’s great to hear Witchsorrow really coming into their own and carving out a notch for themselves in doom’s gigantic fence. They really show a new kind of fire on “No Light, Only Fire” and keep building onto the carnage they’ve amassed the past decade. If this record is a true indication of the band, Witchsorrow are really just getting started, and their future should be full of bloodshed and skullduggery. I welcome that for sure.

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

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

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