There is plenty of good heavy music out there, enough to fill this site five days a week. There are countless new releases every week, which gives me plenty to remain occupied and often leaves me scrambling to shoehorn everything in, only increasing my stress level even more than it already is. And mine is naturally set at freak out.

But despite having a lot of good new music entering my brain and damaging my hearing each week, there aren’t always special records I know for certain will stick with me and influence me far into the year. But you know those when you hear them, and one of them for me is Crowhurst’s stunning, time-forced-still new record that is practically impossible to describe. Yet I will use my words to give that task my best shot. This band certainly has metal at its base, the doom variant if we need to be more granular, but they branch out to so many different levels. There is noise, post-rock, black metal, shoegaze, you name it, and all is pulled off with remarkable effectiveness. And it’s not just meandering between sounds. Generally the band sets a tone, and from there, they organically go exploring, taking you all sorts of places you’d never expect. If you’re a fan of bands as varied as ISIS, Neurosis, Swans, Atriarch, Shining, and groups of that ilk, you need to get with this.

Noise freak/multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Jay Gambit has helmed this project from the start, beginning as more of an experimentally inspired group that took on collaborators and put out a shit ton of content. Seriously, peruse the Crowhurst Bandcamp page, and you’ll find enough content to keep you busy for a week. The music and scope has grown exponentially over time, leading us to where we are today. For this record, Gambit is joined by guitarists Brian Reis and Johan Curie; bassist Spencer Wessels; and drummer Eric Soth to create not only a formidable live act, but one that knows how to demolish castle walls from inside the studio. The band worked with Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Wreck & Reference) on this killer, and they’re putting this bastard out on all kind of formats, including freaking 8-track.

“Penumbra” starts the record and gives you a bit of a hint as to what’s ahead. This instrumental cut has thick bass, buzzing guitar lines, and scratchy noise, and it runs right into “A Precipice of Stone,” a track that basically bursts open like a storm cloud. The music is harsh but also dashed with watercolors, as Gambit’s voice unleashes a sense of panic that arrests the senses. From the pits of atmospheric sludge, the band then dives right into a bruising black metal-style assault, with guitars reaching out for contract and anguished cries pounding home the drama. “Judgement” trickles in clean and cold, giving it a deathrock personality, but then terrifying howls and warm, gazey guitars create the thick, impenetrable force field, and the feeling that you’re watching everything burning down is hard to shake. The band plays with the pace a bit, smearing the last section of the song with soot, and pained cries send this thing on its way. “It Is the Mercy” is the heart-stopper of the bunch, with Gambit stretching out his dark, dreary singing voice, making it feel like you’re buried underneath a million tons of gothic ash. But the pace then quickens, the approach gets more aggressive, and some of the most forceful growling on the record trips you up and begins to devour. The drums crash, the music crescendos along with the vocals, and the final moment drench you like a chilly, damp spring rain.

“Black Oceans” begins with gazey guitars and doom clouds, heavy and dark mauling, and vocals that pierce. Weird wails and melodies cause your mind to twist and turn, creating a vortex of strangeness that claims you and refuses to release its grip. That sense remains in place until just a couple of minutes remain, and the bottom drops out (unloading tons of cinders on your path). The band finds an altogether new level of devastation, with noises squalling, fires blazing, and all forces coming together to create a terrible thunder. “Languorous Void” explodes, with the band reaching into their doom-infested bag of death metal tricks, feeling a bit like Unearthly Trance. There is misery and violence, an onslaught of drubbing, and a finish that works to deliver as many heavy blows as it can before it fades away. Closer “Luna Falsata” is the longest of them all and is a real treat, as Eugene Robinson (Oxbow) lends his deranged, psychologically savaged voice to the track. The passage feels like it originates in the middle of a solar storm, with noises coating the senses with electricity, and Robinson’s voice getting an otherworldly, alien effect. The track feels like the end is here. Robinson appears to be delivering a final eulogy for mankind, with misery at a high point and a foreboding aura stretching out and infecting. As the song reaches its final resting place, so does Robinson’s psyche, as he has a total breakdown as the sounds around him also fold in on themselves, creating a sort of black hole that tears everything apart.

Crowhurst have made an incredible transformation over the years, and their new record—almost like a new beginning—is one of those special albums I cited earlier that do not come along all the time. What’s even more exciting than the music on these seven tracks is to think of where the band will be when their next record comes to pass. That’s something on which we can only guess, and I’d imagine even in the darkest, most ambitious sections of his mind, Gambit doesn’t know either. That way, it’ll be fun for all of us as this band shapeshifts into new future forms.

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

To buy the album (CD, digital), go here: http://crowhurst.bandcamp.com/

On vinyl, go here: http://ivoryantler.bigcartel.com/products

On eight-track (for real!), go here: http://wavescrashingpianochords.bigcartel.com/

I have a really poor time remembering my dreams, an issue that has plagued me my entire life. I can remember maybe a handful of lucid dreams over the course of my existence, and none really stand out as anything profound or out of the ordinary that it deserves repeating or analysis.

My wife wakes up and winds up remembering tons of things, and although she gets bad ones now and then, she seems to go on these journeys that I wish I could find myself taking each night. Naas Alcameth, one of the minds behind the brilliant black metal band Nightbringer, apparently takes that even further, claiming periods of vivid dreaming filled with voices and shadows from beyond this plane and seemingly experiencing something far different than just his mind telling him stories. With that in mind, Alcameth (along with drummer Ain) gave birth to his new project Akhlys (meaning a gateway upon gateways) so he can open up his horrific visions for the world to see and translate them into his dark, spellbinding black metal. The style can be considered kind of a relative to Nightbringer, but there are plenty of differences between the two. That’ll be clear with one listen.

The project’s first piece of imagery is called “The Dreaming I” and is a five-track passageway to the beyond. It’s terrifying and surreal in a way words can’t really justify, and the only way to fully understand what’s at hand is to go into the portal yourself and see where the mind takes you. In fact, the information that accompanies the press details describe the tracks as five tunnels, and it really can’t be stated any better than that. You enter into each section, go into unlit territories you can’t see or predict, and see where you come out on the other side. It’s harrowing, but it’s a trip you’ll be happy you took, even if it scars you.

“Breath and Levitation” is the first curtain opened, and at 9:01, it’s a pretty grueling confrontation. It’s weird and mystical at the start, almost like the scene is unfurling before you, and then it tears open with swirling guitars and fits of madness. The vocals are vicious and full of anguish, with a storming feel permeating the atmosphere and a great crash that suddenly stops on a dime only to reopen into a savage, mystifying pace that rushes to the finish. “Tide of Oneiring Darkness” slips into a space haze, with winds whipping up and leading into gurgling growls and a calculated pace. The trip feels like a dark, rainy nightmare, complete with animalistic shrieks and blistering chaos. “Consummation” is the longest passage at 16:52, and it takes time to stretch out and breathe a bit. Clouds of sound settle over, threatening violence, and a few minutes later, that’s exactly what arrives. The guitars feel warped and deranged, like you’re seeing a scene in front of you a conscious version of yourself never could comprehend. The bulk of the track feels like a smothering, suffocating hell, with melody intertwined into the seas of blood, hypnotic blasts stymying you and keeping the eyes rolling into the back of your head, and an arresting closing sequence that sounds almost liturgical, in the darkest way possible.

“The Dreaming Eye” is no slouch either at 10:07, with the ill intent bubbling and simmering beneath the surface, threatening to break out and burn you. From out of the fog comes a dynamic explosion of power, with mean and tortured vocals mangling your nerve endings, a black assault raining down and making the path in front of you slick and muddy, and damaged playing aiming to see that mental harm has been done. The back end goes from dreamy and misty to psychologically harmful, sounding fearsome once again and eventually bleeding out. The closer “Into the Indigo Abyss” is an instrumental path that goes a tick over four minutes and is packed with misery-inducing ambiance. The music might make it feel like you’re losing the battle with your consciousness, and then you’re on a full-speed plummet right into the deepest caverns of hell, where you will remain forever. Or at least until you wake up.

Alcameth creates a strange, suffocating world on “The Dreaming I,” and considering dreaming seems to be an integral part of his existence, it’s easy to imagine this only being the first chapter in Akhlys’ excursions. This is a record that’s best suited for when you plan to leave the physical plane for whatever sleep or meditation brings you, when you’re most ready to confront the dark forces lurking in the rarely examined reaches of your mind.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Akhlys/1512419082356682?fref=ts

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

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

The past few days have felt like total face and chest demolition in my body. Out comes the tree pollen and on comes to woe, with enough liquid leaving my face that I spent most of the weekend essentially blind. I feel like I’ve been in a demolition derby, and no one has told the other drivers that it’s over yet.

“Heretical Anatomy,” the debut full-length from Canadian death maulers Abyss makes me feel similar. Their music—fast and sudden—blisters you like one of those out-of-control, beaten-to-hell cars, and the way your body will feel after confronting these eights songs won’t make you feel at the height of health. Most of these cuts are in and out in three minutes or less, making it feel like a compact, well-oiled blast of gritty, grinding death metal that’s fully satisfying and also hellaciously put together. This sounds like death metal that came creeping out of the U.S. and U.K. in the early 90s, only informed with modern-day distastes and disgusts designed to make the music as violent and furious as humanly possible.

While still a relatively new unit (they formed in 2009), the members of the band have had experience with other destructive units such as Slaughter Strike, Fragile Existence, Lgeion666, Rammer, and many others. Far as we can tell, the band’s members go mostly by simple first names, with David Kristiansen on vocals; Jason and Ethan handling guitar work, quite capably, might I add; Rob on bass and backing vocals; and Max behind the drum kit. If you follow the marching orders of any of the members’ aforementioned bands, as well as units such as Bolt Thrower, Entombed, Extreme Noise Terror, early Napalm Death, and Axis of Advance, chances are this album is going to be right up your bloody alley.

The first strike comes from the title cut, complete with a weird, alien first few seconds before the song tears apart and begins storming hard. The pace is wild and out of control, with Kristiansen’s vocals aiming to maim, the soloing sounding fiery and inspired, and the rest of the troops putting the boots to your chest. “The Atonement” is fast and thashy, with gravelly vocals, lead guitar work that sears, and a vicious ending grind that leaves you in the dust. “Chained to Extinction” is a quick one at 1:40, wasting no time moving forward at a lightning pace and bringing everything into the heart of demolition. The song is fast and guttural, and it takes you right into the mouth of 52-second scorcher “Flesh Cult” that is absolutely seething and does its damage at a breath-taking clip.

“Prophecies of Churning Horror” is punchy and agitated, with the band motoring ahead with zero regards as to what’s in front of them, with the vocals painfully delivered and always gripping. The song ends rather abruptly, paving the way for “Atavistic Decay,” a crunching, stomping mauler that bristles and looks for flesh to grind up. Kristiansen’s vocals are gritty and gruesome here, with the soloing barreling out of the gates and the tempo remaining fast and mean. “Thrall of the Elder Gods” is the longest of the bunch at 5:37, beginning in a murky, doomy cloud and trudging at a calculating, brutal pace. Things eventually get rowdier, with a long section of guitar work adding color, great fires burning and coating your lungs with soot, and a conclusion that sounds both clobbering and insulting, as Kristiansen first clears the blood and mucus from his throat before laughing maniacally. Finisher “Nightmares in Skin” makes the best of its 1:43, bringing down the final remnants of the walls around you with its thunderous assault and outright commitment to total destruction.

“Heretical Anatomy” might not be the longest record of all time, but sometimes less is way, way more. In the case of Abyss, they took the time and care to pack as much vitriol into this eight-track package to last you years, and if this music isn’t enough catharsis for your bruised, wounded psyche, perhaps medication is in order? Abyss don’t strike me as a band trying to score style points or one that hopes to do things as smoothly as possible. Those rough edges and reckless abandon are part of what make this band as vicious as it is.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.20buckspinshop.com/

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

Blake Green by Joe Turmes/Visual Arts Collective

Winter has come and mercifully gone from the East Coast of the United States, but part of its grip still lingers here and there. Frosty nights still occur that leave you rushing to cover your plants and vegetables sprouting outside, and there still is a chance that your car’s windshield can be encased in ice when getting up in the morning.

That feeling also permeates when listening to “Ia’winde,” the first release from Il’ithil that, shockingly, has been sitting on the shelf for a few years. If you want music that can frost over your senses with free-sprawling, atmospheric black metal, this album just might be for you. The past few weeks as I’ve been digesting this thing, I can’t help but feel the chills down my spine that make me feel like I’m at the heart of winter, in the middle of a deep freeze from which there is no escape. In fact, one of the most recent journeys I had with this album was during a warm early spring thunderstorm, and I had to go outside after it was done just to make sure the temperatures hadn’t dipped along with the music. That might seem dramatic, but it’s exactly what I did. It remained warm, to my expectations, but it was overwhelming to be affected that way.

Il’ithil’s creator is a person you might know, that being Blake Green of the mighty Wolvserpent, as well as other projects Mezektet and Aelter (with whom we will visit in a couple of weeks). This outburst of pure savagery and black metal is some of the heaviest music on the man’s resume, and it’s remained dormant after he recorded the music several years ago. Luckily, Psychic Violence is helping solve that issue by releasing the music on LP, giving Green’s followers a chance to hear him at his blackest, and for consumers of this type of music to experience one of the eeriest, most frigid black metal releases you are bound to stumble upon the first half of this year. It’s but two tracks, lasting a little under a half hour, but it’s damn powerful and something I know I’ll keep visiting long into the warmest months of 2015.

“Winter’s Shadow” opens the record, a 13:21 track with a breezy start, like you’re in the center of a forest just as the eye of the storm is approaching. From there, winds whip, melodies that feel steeped in the Middle Ages erupt, and we’re full bore in blizzard mode, with frosty strains of black metal coming down in sheets, enveloping you and the ground below. The guitars are bendy, furious, and relentless, while the vocals, situated into the background, are wild howls that sound like cries of desperation and wails at natural wonder. A strange haze eventually settles in, with the vocals taking on a creaky, echoey essence not unlike Maelfic of Xasthur, and then things go back into swirling chaos. The pace is both harsh and exciting, and in the final moments, a machine-like ambiance emerges that feels thick and oppressive until it finally fades away.

“Through the Cold Grey Sky” runs a clean 14 minutes, and it develops out of the noise rush of the song that preceded it. That mountain of noise eventually meets up with lush synth that adds streaks of beauty and then a burst of black metal melodies that take the momentum from there. The tempo and music are dizzying and infectious, drawing you into their realm and helping you see colors you’ve never imagined before. The song is thick and rich with melodies that add substance to the madness, with the vocals sounding like howls from the distance and keys coming in to achieve a temporary state of calm. A foggy ambiance makes its presence felt along with the glorious hammering going on, and some warped, rushing sounds create sparks behind the thick, unforgiving storm. The song keeps hammering away, never once letting you up, and remains intense all the way until its final notes.

There’s never been any question that Green is a fantastic, diverse musician, and what he creates on “Ia’winde” is one of his most penetrating, vicious to date. But it also keeps in place his penchant for atmosphere and melodies that absolutely lock you inside its chambers to keep you captive forever. Il’ithil might not have seen much sunlight until now, but we’re all lucky enough to bask in these crushing winds and freezing ambitions long after the snow in our parts of the world have passed and given way to warmth. Those icy tentacles are always there to pull you back.

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

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

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

How about ending the week with a good, savage beating? We’re talking one where the blows are measured out, delivered with intensity and weight, and that, oddly, might have you begging for more punishment? That always seems to be a good way to end a week full of that kind of thing.

If you’re intrigued, let us introduce you to DC-based doom monsters Foehammer and their gargantuan debut EP that carries the weight of the world on its shoulders. Here, you’ll find three helpings of overflowing funeral doom that is delivered in a calculating manner and seeks to maim and scrape at any mental wounds you might be tucking away. The release accompanying the music cites bands including Grief, Buried at Sea, and Ahab as comparisons, but I also hear a lot of Noothgrush and Thou intertwined, as well as some Eyehategod when the group decided to add groove to their otherwise painful, lurching sound. It’s a damn satisfying introduction to this band, and it’s proof that the funeral doom category is … OK, alive and well. That shouldn’t make any sense, but it does.

The fellows responsible for this unforgiving darkness go by simple first names (at least according to their Facebook joint), so the people you have to blame for your downturned mood and propensity to lash out at your scars are Jay (bass, vocals), Joe (guitar), and Vang (drums). Their approach to what is intended to be the most torturous of the doom subdivisions is to adhere to the primary traits of the style but also to not paint by numbers. As noted, the band can get on a bluesy kick at times, channeling their inner Sabbath, but also can settle into mind-altering regions that make you wonder if their funeral isn’t taking place in the stars.

“Final Grail” gets things started with doom fury hanging in the air, a threatening, ominous vibe being set, and that’s when the muck arrives. The band starts pounding away hard, with harsh, painful vocals being emitted, some killer Tony Iommi-style guitar melodies splashing colors, and that aforementioned groove being achieved, letting you bang your head amid your tears. The back end gets cleaner and a little foggy, as they disorient you with their approach before reigniting the fire and burning your eyes down the home stretch. “Stormcrow” runs 10:18, and it starts into a spacey, bizarre haze from which meaty riffs emerge. The assault takes its time, with the vocals sounding hellish and feral and the band switching back and forth between earthly woe and cosmic terror. There is some swaggering again, an element they mix into their sound so well, but also slurring, drunken guitars, growls that incinerate you, and a vibe that conjures the sense of utter hopelessness and despair.

Mammoth closer “Jotnar” runs a massive 14:29 and makes the violent best out of its running time. Drone rings out and stings the nerve endings, leading to the drums erupting and looking to pulverize bones. The band launches into a slow-paced, oppressively heavy section, with the bass taking some of the lead and pulling you through the mire and the music sounding miserable and relentless. As the song goes on and collects mud, the assault gets nastier, with gruesome drubbing and fiery soloing cutting through all and waging total war. Toward the last quarter, the melody changes up just a bit, giving a slightly darker shadow to it all, and the band spends its final moments smashing your wounds, chewing on your open cuts, and making sure not one ounce of you isn’t in total, complete agony.

If you have a thirst for doom, especially the slow, calculated style, you need to make friends with Foehammer. In this one debut EP, they prove a penchant for darkness as well as a creativity that will prevent them from being painted into any corners. They are brutal, brainy, and colossal, and they will fit the bill just fine if you’re looking to fill a half hour with some of the darkest, most foreboding sounds the doom genre can offer. Hails to that.

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

To buy the album (digital/CD/cassette), go here: http://grimoirerecords.bandcamp.com/album/foehammer

To buy the album (vinyl), go here: http://www.australopithecusrecords.com/products/546357-foehammer-foehammer-12

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

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

Apparently we have stumbled onto the subject matters of spacey rock and mind alteration, through no real plans of our own. I’m now realizing that just about everything we are covering this week falls into that trance-out, thousand-yard-stare territory, and today is no exception at all.

It’s been a decade since we’ve heard from Acid King, that being on 2005’s awesome “III.” Since that time, the stoner rock and metal kingdom has grown massive, with plenty of bands clogging up the atmosphere and making this style into a bonafide sub-category. Funny thing, though, happened while Acid King was away. This style of music got a little out of sorts with so much commotion that we needed one of the pioneers of the sound to return and set things straight. And that they do with power and hazy strength on their great new record “Middle of Nowhere, Center of Everywhere.” Offering up the digital release themselves and joining up with perfectly aligned Svart Records, this band is firing back in heavy, slow-footed motion that drubs you about the head and torso and make you see weird, spiraling shapes on your walls.

Having formed in 1993 and with four records under their belts, most of Acid King’s lineup has remained together from the start. Out front on guitars and vocals is Lori S., an ideal spiritual leader for this record and the group’s two-decades-plus-long journey, as well as co-original member Joey Osbourne, who handles drums. Bassist Mark Lamb joined up in 2008, and together they sound like a formidable, foggy version of the band that will take you on a journey to the outer reaches of your mind. No chemicals needed, though having some might take you even further into the star-riddled void.

The record kicks off with a properly weird intro cut, that sets the stage with trippy bubbling, riffs that glimmer, and a glowing ambiance, and that leans into “Silent Pictures,” a 9:18 monster that drums up noise and stretches out before the riffs land. S’s vocals float in the air over top of everything, keeping you engaged and wondering where she and the band are headed. The singing then really begins to soar, with the leads burning brightly, the soloing levitating, and the drums rumbling and taking the song to its thunderous conclusion. “Coming Down From Outer Space” could not be more properly named, as the guitars create a thick drone, the tempo gets pushier, and S instructs, “Find every moment you left behind.” From there things get burly, though it’s also draped with a psychedelic curtain and rhythms that pounds you over and over. “Laser Headlight” is mucky and thick, with the tone reminding me a bit of L7 and the melodies buzzing hard. The guitars continue to show muscle with tasty riffs and excellent soloing that takes the song to its finish.

“Red River” goes 8:26, burning and chugging in a calculated pace, with the vocals haunting like a fleet of ghosts. The atmosphere surrounding this song feels humid enough to slap a thick film across your face as you confront their heat and get pushed into their sleep-inducing approach designed to help you see spirits behind your eyelids. “Infinite Skies” has a similar feel to it, as it plods along purposely and injects an extra sense of outer space wonder. S’s singing is as catchy here as it is anywhere else on the record, with things feeling druggy as hell and the guitar playing giving the track a sunburnt, desert-pilgrimage essence. “Center of Everywhere” rolls on for 8:45, and it begins on an ominous note, as the guitars make things feel doom rich and dark. The melodies have a strange effect on the body and mind, with bluesy playing dashing new colors into the scene and the vocals sprinkling stardust. From there, the song gets more menacing and a bit heavier, with echoes reverberating and the guitar work spitting sparks. The closing outro puts a nice, cloudy bow on the record, as the band lets out their last rays of darkness and light, returning these sounds to its original planet.

It’s heavily satisfying having Acid King back in our solar system, and the decade-long wait was more than worth it considering we were handed a record as fulfilling as “Middle of Nowhere, Center of Everywhere.” This veteran band sounds as alive and scorching as ever, and hopefully this record is the starting point on a thunderous second phase for the group. Any band walking the stoner and psyche metal path owes Acid King a debt of gratitude for blazing the path as well as a heap of thanks for coming back and taking us on another mind-toppling journey.

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

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

Or here: http://svartrecords.com/shoppe/

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

Photo by Chris Carlone

As often as we wallow in darkness and negativity in these parts, we have to shine a bright light every now and again. Much as we might not want to admit it, there is nothing wrong with basking in heavy music that actually makes you happy for positive reasons, and not because it jibes with your brand of nihilism. Not that there’s anything wrong with that either. But any time a true pick-me-up is in order, you could do far worse than reveling in the psychedelic fog of

NYC’s White Hills. This is one of those bands custom made for festivals like Roadburn, where heaviness, intensity, visceral experiences, and mind alteration all come together for the sake of a communal celebration. Ever since their formation a decade ago, White Hills have pumped out tons of releases, most on the mighty Thrill Jockey, and their latest “Walks for Motorists” is another blast of fuzzed up, raucous fury. The band actually strips things back a little on this one, going for a simpler, more direct approach, but that never does anything to undercut their power nor dull their teeth. It’s a damn fun nine songs we have here, and the music speaks to the spirit of White Hills and their loose, organic energy.

The heart of the White Hills machine is comprised of guitarist/vocalist Dave W and bassist/vocalist Ego Sensation, founding members of the group and its constant backbone as they’ve morphed through time. The band took a different approach to this new record, starting the songs on keyboard and bass and building from there, thus creating a different type of heaviness and dream haze than efforts past. But the music still is powerful, heavy in spots, and always intoxicating, and hearing the new material develop live—especially for those lucky bastards who will be at Roadburn—should be quite the experience.

The record gets off to a great start with “No Wills,” built on thick guitar fuzz, warped melodies, and gruff singing, with W wondering, “Do we dare to call ourselves creators?” The back end wallows in grime and leads the way to “LSD or USB,” a playful, ’60s-infused rocker that’s full of noise. Some of the sounds come off like an agitated engine firing up over and over again, with glimmery keys in the background, penetrating drone, and playing that will make your head swim. “Wanderlust” stomps right out of the gates, with buzzing lead guitar lines, maniacal singing bordering on psychotic, and the band later settling into more of a rock tempo that helps balance the insanity. “Lead the Way” is the longest cut at 8:53, with a scorching, calculating tempo that takes its time smothering you, strong and sunburnt soloing making it feel dry and summery, and the singing ever so slightly detached, like they’re fully control of the dream rocket to the sun. “I, Nomad” follows as a quick, zapping instrumental, where they keys are the primary ingredient and the music tastes like cosmic soup.

“We Are What You Are” sure comes off as a uniter, with scorching riffs, vocals that act as a callout to the masses, and declarations such as, “We are the light that sets you free.” The solos are scorching once again, and the band hits on a fiery finish that packs a satisfactory punch. “Automated City” is a different one, starting off with beats and then a thick bassline, with W’s phrasing reminding a bit of Dan Bejar. The bulk of this thing is awash in echo, giving it a really trippy glaze, and it spirals out into the darkness and the unknown. “Life Is Upon” you has an upbeat sense to it, which most of us metal heathens generally eschew, but what’s the point of all of that negativity? It’s easy to get immersed and lost here amid the poppier sentiments, the trade-off vocals, and the essence that feels like a grittier, heavier Raveonettes. The closing title cut unleashes key zaps and a wave of voice samples that swirl around and make you feel bizarre. The word “platelets” keeps getting repeated, so much so you might find yourself robotically calling it back, as all of the various sound elements come to a full boil and flood over.

White Hills, and this killer new album, are perfect weekend fodder when you need to ice over your mind or even for those evenings after a long day when you need something to give you a lift and fill you with energy. “Walks for Motorists” can help you achieve all of those things, and it’s one of their most exuberant releases to date. Or it can just help you trance out. Whatever you need, man.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/pages/WHITE-HILLS/90476409450

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

For more on the label, go here: http://www.thrilljockey.com/splash.html

I am not a user of mind-altering substances, unless we’re counting high ABV beer in the equation. If so, then I guess that first sentence is a lie. But what I’m really after is that I don’t partake in the types of things that generally help you think you’ve achieved some sort of great trip to another realm or plane. I’m good right here.

But I find certain bands can help you do with nothing other than their music. One that always does manage to catapult me through various levels of existence and worlds is Saturnalia Temple, a band that’s as challenging mentally as they are physically. And make no mistake: This is a damn heavy band in every sense of that description. But there is way more to their art than just pummeling, as you’re bound to find out on their great new record “To the Other.” Recorded in their own studio in the forests of Uppsala, Sweden, it feels like the band took to lying on the ground, staring at the stars, and remaining there until all of the galaxies started to spin and mix together. The band’s melding of doom, sludge, stoner, black metal, and psychedelics helps create their colorful world and transport the listener to another place, where you’ll be happy to stay for the fully captivating 48 minutes this band unfurls on their second full-length effort.

The band labels its sound “black magick metal,” and that feels like a pretty accurate description from experiencing their music over the years. Thematically, what they stab at here feels pretty universal from a metal standpoint–the destruction of the world and individuals fighting back against the forces that be in the name of individuality. The band itself—Tommie on vocals and guitar, bassist Peter, and their U.S. live drummer Tim Call pulverizing the kit—feels cosmically aligned, pumping out dark energy and fiery riffs that will get inside you and connect with your darkest inhibitions. Or translated, it’s just a great, dark slab of muddy metal that will go down just right.

The record kicks off with an eerie, ambient introduction piece that trickles right into “ZazelSorath,” a sludge-heavy, imposing track that brings the riffs and pounds you over the head with them. There are warped, damaged guitar parts intertwined with the music, echoey growls that make the messages feel as if they’re being delivered telepathically, and shouts of, “Rise!” that plod along with the drubbing. The title cut has a clean, yet slurry start, and then powerful guitar lines catch fire and burn over top. The growls are creaky and chilling, with the melodies feeling soulful and jarring and a dusty Western sense making its presence know, whether or not that was intended. The band hits a deep trance state, with guitar lines repeating over and over again, causing your pupils to turn to swirls and causing you to fall into a mental abyss. The final moments are psychedelically warped and leave you grasping for a sense of understanding. “Show of Reason” has a pushy, numbing tempo, beating on you again, with the vocals coming off like gruff warnings. A serious dose of buzzing sets in, with the riffs mashing everything in sight, like the band is some sort of intergalactic Black Sabbath, and the madness continues its relentless nature until it finally fades into the night.

“March of Gha’agsheblah” is a mouthful to say, and it begins with massive guitar work that feels humid and mighty, and the vocals sounding like they’re being delivered by a detached monster. The song blisters and boils for the most part, but it also has its psychedelic angles. But the main story behind this one is the relentless trudging they carry out, leaving the ground battered behind them. “Black Sea of Power” has dizzying guitar work, further pounding that carries over from the song before it, and deranged, echo-rich growling that sounds terrifying. The doom hammer is swung heavily on this one, with a bit of melody sneaking into the picture and the background as the song fades into the fog. “Crowned With Seven” is charged up, feeling like an early High on Fire song at times, and the thrashy, mucking assault is balanced by noises that sound like they’ve traveled here from bizarre worlds far away. This is a chugging, punishing cut that definitely leaves bruises. Closer “Void” is strange when it enters the room, with alien guitars floating, spacious pockets of sound, and hypnotic, swirling melodies that mesmerize. The playing easily can help create visions in your mind, and once you’re in the state of daydream, the whole thing plunges deep under the black sea, drowning out the sound, only to resurface for mere moments before it fizzles out like static spit.

Saturnalia Temple’s dark energy never has been stronger, and “To the Other” finds them truly coming into their own as a magnificent force. This collection is engaging, mesmerizing, and powerfully heavy, and there are no down moments on this massive beast. This thing is a nightmare-inducing crusher that will take you to other realms and leave you wondering where exactly you exist.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.theajnaoffensive.com/collections/all

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

I am sort of transfixed with the idea of space travel. It’s not something I’d necessarily ever want to do voluntarily–regular air travel bothers me as much as it is. But the concept of soaring through the stars to other worlds and past strange worlds is an amazing concept to me.

Because of the above acceptance that I’ll never soar through space, I need to find music that makes me feel like I’m floating amongst alien worlds. One go-to band for me every time is Italian doom experimentalists Ufomammut. Nearly impossible to truly classify (despite my best stab at descriptors), these guys have been making mind-altering, cosmic chaos for years now. You can’t really put a finger on what they do and be totally right. Yes, they’re heavy. Awfully heavy at times, and when they are, it feels like worlds are exploding. They can induce dream states, so much so that when I’m listening to their music in a non-critical situation, it’s easy for me to float away. They’re also daring, never remaining loyal to one path, sound, or way, making each one of their studio records (as well as their live shows) unique beings.

The band is back with their mesmerizing seventh record “Ecate,” the follow-up to 2012’s dual, yet separately released records “Oro: Opus Primum” and “Oro: Opus Alter.” Once again the three musical chemists—bassist/synth player/special effect/vocalist Urlo, guitarist/synth player/special effects Poia, drummer Vita—blaze new trails across the sky and leave you enthralled. The title is based on the three-sided goddess that travels among the living and dead realms, representing the past, present, and, future, and often acts as either a positive and negative omen to travelers. They pay homage through thunderous, always captivating compositions only they could create and perform, and once again, they’ve come up with something utterly masterful.

“Somnium” launches the ship, running 9:55 and opening with static haze, synth that spreads and thickens, and rumbling that slowly emerges. Later, the top gets ripped off as the volume spikes, with the band pounding away at you, eventually giving way to some calm. Things start to boil again, as the music rises up, detached singing colors the background, and the whole thing heads toward a bottomless mudpit that swallows you whole and finally spits you out at the end. “Plouton” is one of the shortest, most direct songs in the band’s entire catalog, lasting just 3:08 and acting as a corrosive, punishing assault. The guitars are as loud as they seemingly can go, with the vocals more forceful and drenched in echoes and the rest of the band dealing out fuzzy, mashing punishment. Quite the change of pace for these guys. Then it’s into “Chaosecret,” the album’s longest track at 10:47. The whole thing starts like a cosmic soup, with things bubbling slowly, the murk gently making its way overhead, and strange chants emanating, putting you on the brink of hypnosis. It continues into what feels like a fever dream, with the music causing you to see strange visions before the volcano erupts and their force grows greater. The vocals decimate, as the pace starts trucking hard, and more brain numbing playing takes the track to its rightful conclusion.

“Temple” tears apart right from the start, with mucky and heavy pounding, the band hulking in the most beastly of fashion, and more vocals that sound like chants reaching out to other worlds. Fog rolls in and chokes out the surroundings, settling and letting things burn only to have everything break apart again. But then, the guys put on their most vile face, launching into an outright violent section, unleashing absolute fury and letting everything burn in hell-like blazes. The band trudges ahead and keeps up the pace until the intensity is allowed to fade. “Revelation” is a shorter, mostly ambient cut that acts much like a bridge to the conclusion. The song swirls in psychedelic gases, floating and zapping overhead, delivering occasional static shocks. The 10:30 closer “Daemons” starts off harshly enough, with riffs that cut like barbed wire and vocals that are pretty monstrous. There’s a hazy period where voice samples weave through the mire, leading right into the next thashy section, with more gruff singing blowing in, all of the elements piling on top of each other, and a collection of organs, chimes, and synth forming a poisonous cloud. The song, and this journey itself, ends in a field of sci-fi-minded synth, chilling your body and soul and returning you from your journey into the stars.

Ufomammut’s reputation already was stellar before the arrival of “Ecate,” but these six songs just push their status further into the stratosphere. They’ve managed to keep making riveting, challenging, devastating music while maintaining their sense of weirdness and organic adventure. There’s not another band on the planet quite like Ufomammut, another quality that makes these guys so damn special.

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

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

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

It’s going to start raining and storming pretty regularly pretty soon, and I, for one, am excited about that. Unless it’s rush hour, because people in my town can’t drive in the elements. It’s the height of human terror, with nature opening up and exacting revenge for whatever wrongs we have perpetrated over the past year.

Anyhow, the return of soaked grounds, thunder crackles, and lightning make for a fitting background to the more atmospheric blends of black metal. They really go hand in hand with the season, just like they do during autumn, and being able to drink in the noises of like-minded savagery with the weather is something that makes me profoundly happy. This is where bands such as Philadelphia’s Hæthen come into play, and their debut full-length “Shaped By Aeolian Winds” is one that’s perfect for visitation right about now. You may already have your hands on a version of this album, as it was released independently in December, but now Ars Magna Recordings (CD version) and Fallen Empire (vinyl) are bringing this great, powerful record back into focus. And it feels like it was made for this time of year.

Hæthen grew out of NJ-based band Opus Dei after they split up, and this lineup is comprised of guitarist/vocalist Phaedrus, guitarist Wanderer, and drummer Gone. On this first full offering (they delivered a 2009 demo “Wanderer”), the band spread their spacious black metal over nine tracks and 55 minutes, showing both brutality and brains into the operation. Fans of groups including Agalloch, Fen, Wolves in the Throne Room, and artists of that ilk should fall in line with what Hæthen accomplish here. It’s an ambitious yet grainy effort, an album that shows the band’s prowess but also keeps their dark hearts burning and the sense of utter savagery firmly in place.

“Entranced By the Unknowing” is your opener, with black waves lapping, winds whipping, and bells chiming, almost as if signaling the funeral of winter. The song bursts a bit before subsiding, and that leads into “Taking the Auspices,” with its furious storming, acoustics slipping behind the curtains, and crushing shrieking. The pace bubbles hard, with the band pushing ahead with ambition and strength. “Amongst the Forlorn Larch” (runs 10:03) bursts open immediately, with creaky vocals weaving ugliness into the mix and acoustic strains drizzling over the background. The song feels hazy and foggy, the ideal soundtrack to an all-day rainstorm during a long stretch of warm, humid weather. The track gets gruff near the end, as melodies cascade mournfully until they fade into the night. “Fragments of Spectral Uncertainly” rages for 11:03, with brutality meeting interesting instrumentation, ferocious growls and shrieks penetrating, but then the track suddenly taking a weird turn. It feels like everything sinks underwater and to the bottom, like a weird movie score from the depths of the sea, only to return to volcanic fury and end up glorious and dreamy.

The title track then arrives, a short instrumental track with grim guitars and weird glimmering, leading into “In the Absence of the Eternal,” which ignites and is built on aggressive melodies and vicious growling. The band just grinds away, with dizzying guitar work, drums that are decimated, and the whole thing feeling like a total mind melt. “Captured Within the Annulus” has a thick sense of rustic folk at the start, which is darkened by an assault of dark black metal and a tempo that shifts repeatedly. When the pace gets raucous and clubbing, it later eases and brings a sense of calm. But that’s never permanent, as the guys always find ways to reignite the fires and blast your senses again. “The Gate of the Firmament” is slow and sweltering, with guitar melodies bustling and harsh growls breaking the skin. The bulk of the track has a dreary, dampening feel, keeping the elements pounding down on you until you manage to wander into “Spiritrise” which is a continuation, or second half, of what’s already afoot. Here, the music gets louder and more dangerous, the vocals corrode and feel damaged, and a bed of noise drone kicks up, leading into more stinging winds, storms that are born again, and a final burst of natural power before it fades into the distance.

If you were late to the boat for Hæthen’s debut, no worries for you. “Shaped By Aeolian Winds” sounds even better now than it did in mid-winter, as these songs are perfect along with our boots sinking into the hungry earth and the thaw swelling rivers and streams. They have a great mix of atmospherics and pure black metal rawness, and the fact that this music will be available in more formats means that additional people can bask in their dark glory.

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

To buy the album (CD), go here: http://www.arsmagnarecordings.com/InfoPage.htm

Or here (vinyl): http://store.fallenempirerecords.com/

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

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