A lot can change for a band over four years, especially one whose members occupy other groups. Feelings can change, life gets in the way, and musical interests evolve, so when it comes to sitting back at the table to create, who knows what’s going to come out of it, and if it’s different, is that a good thing?

Surely some of that had to be going through the heads of the members of Doomriders, the band led by Converge bassist Nate Newton, and when it came time to work on their new record “Grand Blood,” the follow up to 2009’s tremendous “Darkness Comes Alive,” it must have been a curious and fruitful period for the band. They sustained a member change, with new drummer Q coming on board, and Newton himself went through some personal trials and tribulations (the story in the current issue of Decibel certainly can flesh out what’s gone on in his life) that profoundly affected him. So with all of those factors coming into play, would it result in favorable artistic results coming from this band, or would the developing tastes and all of that chaos make them miss their mark?

One visit with “Grand Blood” should be enough to answer that question for you, and any worries should easily fade away. The record is decidedly more rock and roll that what they produced in the past (not that that element ever was truly missing), and they have a new spark and energy that’s different from what they showed on “Darkness.” The riffs are meaty and chewy, the band hits hard but always makes sure you get up OK, and the ride is a raucous, bumpy adventure, but one that ultimately should put a smile on your face. Yes, there are dark moments, as you might expect, but the music feels like it’s trying to overcome any negativity that built up and is showing you can rise again and fight another day, your crushed heart be damned.

As noted, Newton remains the guy in front of the band, with his guitar work and vocals leading the way. You’ll probably notice his vocals have matured quite a bit, and while he’s still totally up for tossing out raspy yelps and shouts, he’s also singing more directly than ever before. At some points, the shouting is kept to a minimum, and it’s a real positive for the music and suits it perfectly. We mentioned Q (Magic Circle and heavily underrated Clouds), who joins the fold that also includes guitarist Chris Pupecki (Cast Iron Hike) and bassist Jebb Riley (Disappear), who round out this muscular unit that sounds like they’re continually figuring out their sound and finding the right way to get across where they are in their journey. This 11-track mauler is proof of that, and it’s hellacious fun.

Following a short, doomy intro track, the band blasts into “New Pyramids,” built from noisy riffs, grit, mud, and energy, giving you an early dose of the rock and roll party they’ve brought along with them. “Mankind” has fluttery lead guitar parts and a sinister melody, and the chorus is in your face and easily memorable, with Newton shouting, “Lost our purpose/Made it worthless.” It’s a dark sentiment, but it’s one you might find yourself shouting back. The title cut feels loopy and chunky, with a muddy swagger and more darkness coming from Newton when he howls, “Give me purpose or let me die.” It’s a really fun song, and eventually it disappears into the atmosphere. “Bad Vibes” just kicks your ass, with a speedy rock sentiment, throaty growls, and a pace that should whip crowds into a frenzy live. “Dead Friends” is another that seems like it’s a little too close to home, as Newton recalls misfortune that befell people close to him, unleashing his agitation and anger on the fiery, simple chorus.

“Death in Heat” brings back the sludge, as well as some penetrating drone, and that dissolves into a doom-heavy, slow-driving mauler that’s one of the heaviest tracks on the record and one of the most dangerous. “We Live in the Shadows” kicks off with melodies that are damn near black metal in feel, but then it starts chugging and heading toward punk and hardcore territory, with Newton unleashing some positivity in the murk by insisting, “We carry on!” “Gone to Hell” has a different feel to it, as Newton lets his natural clean singing voice emerge, and it’s a new, more mainstream side of the band (not in a bad way) that could help Doomriders find a larger audience that they deserve. “Back Taxes” brings frustration back into the mix, and who can’t relate to the idea of struggling and pushing to improve your life only to have someone behind your back waiting for their cut? The song’s abrasive and punishing, bringing forth that nagging sense of debt. Closer “Father Midnight” lets everything burn to the ground, with more doom rising up and bubbling over, throaty screams spilling from Newton’s mouth, and the band later slipping into a destructive, yet trippy, section where they let emotions rise up, only let them melt down again.

Doomriders are back in fine form and earthquaking shape, and the tweaks they made to their sound certainly are to their–and their listeners’–benefit. “Grand Blood” is one of those records you want to grab when shit has hit the fan, you’re beyond frustration, and you need to find an outlet where you can blow off some steam. Doomriders sound like they did just on this album, and it resulted in their most infectious music to date.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/pages/DOOMRIDERS/53771008100

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

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

There are days when getting into some philosophical exploration is fitting for the occasion, and there are days when you’re better off digging your knife right into the meat of the matter and getting under way with things already. Today’s one of those days because Castevet have returned, and their new record “Obsian” is a dark marauder here to obliterate you.

Way back in 2010 (it feels so long ago at this point), this NYC-based band emerged with their disarmingly impressive debut “Mounds of Ash,” a record released by the always reliable Profound Lore and that stood as one of that year’s biggest surprises. It was both massive and suffocating, a truly eye-opening effort from a band that seemed to have an incredible future in front of then. Then three years passed, which can feel like an eternity for underground metal releases, and they seemed to drop off the radar. Yet they come storming back with “Obsian,” a record that’s even more impressive than their debut and rams you deep into frozen outer space and alien terror. It’s a furious but also intoxicatingly well-played platter that’s both terroristic and brainy. It brings nothing that will make you feel happy inside or give you a hopeful glow, because it Castevet’s world, those would be horrible lies. Yet, It’s also a shitload of deranged fun.

One of things that makes this new album so massive seems to have come from a major lineup change. Vocalist/guitarist Andrew Hock and drummer Ian Jacyszyn remain from the band’s origin, but joining them for this record is Nicholas McMaster on bass, who plies his trade for other heavy hitters such as Krallice and Bloody Panda and who brings a warped, cosmic, loopy sense to these songs. He’s not just there to add rhythm or a backbone; he’s there to contribute some of the most aggressive, thought-provoking work this side of, say, Geddy Lee, making his instrument as crucial as any other that helps make Castevet’s work what it is.

That’s not to suggest the other two guys were slouches before McMaster arrived, because it’s anything but the case. Hock’s roar remains a thing with which to be reckoned, a cauldron of fire that can scorch you, and his guitar playing remains violent and commanding. Jacyszyn is a steady force behind the kit, as he turns bones to powder. But together as a full unit, these three seem to have stumbled upon something almost alchemic, a formula so volatile and bubbling that it threatens to boil over and scar the world. In fact, your best bet is to tackle “Obsian” with headphones so you can hear all of these elements working together, layering on top of each other, and building to a metallic lather few other bands could achieve. It’s mind-blowing.

“The Tower” blows the fucking roof off the album, with a corrosive burst that crushes souls, and amid that punishment is some colorful prog flourishes that give a compelling edge to such agony and horror. The song is spacious but also violent, and the vocals sound like they were painful to emit. This leads right into “Cavernous,” a song with a raucous opening, harsh vocals, and the feel of a volatile science experiment gone very wrong. The song hulks into the outer edges of their creativity, and the metallic lathering is practically dizzying if you let it get that far into your head. It’s pretty sick shit. “The Curve” is aptly named, as it veers away from what comes before it. It’s just as drubbing and threatening, but in different ways, as sheets of guitar rain down, the vocals blow out as if exploding from a blast furnace, and eventually more prog-drenched madness push in mainly through the force of McMaster’s insane, rubbery playing. The close even reminds of heyday Voivod, with chilling thrashing and nuclear winter apocalypse.

“Fathomed By Beggars and Victims” gets the second half of the record off to a hazy, foggy start, letting a thick atmosphere settle in before the band drops a bomb on the whole thing, delving into thrashy verses, coarse and mean growls, and downright awesome playing. It’s hard not to get overcome by the whole thing, as it’s that infectious, and the final moments of the track feel like a lot like the spirit of late 1970s Rush. The title cut also starts drizzly and cloudy, with a bleak ambiance rising from smoking embers, and the song’s ghost floating overhead, waiting to claim your soul. The song could freeze your bones, and it seems like it’s calling on the arrival of a deep, unforgiving winter. Closer “The Sea of Severance” is a major surprise and signals some changes for the band musically. Sure, it’s crunchy and chunky and it’s violent in its own right, but when Hock opens his mouth, deep, passionate clean vocals come forth, revealing a totally different side of his expression and Castevet themselves. This feels like a more dangerous, thorny Enslaved or Ihsahn, with the band stretching their musical boundaries but never letting go of the ill intent and cataclysmic delivery, and the final few minutes of suffocating doom hammers home that point perfectly.

Castevet seem like a band that is just at the beginning of their formation, especially with the new twists and turns on the awesome “Obsian,” and I can’t wait to hear the next record, if I can be so selfish and push that far into the future. But for now, I’ll take great pleasure investigating all the nuances of this record and feel like I’m being catapulted into space so my body can be torn apart. This is one of the most creatively ambitious and disarmingly dark records of the year, one that sounds like nothing else out there now or that will come before the year dies out.

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

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

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

If you don’t like being disgusted by death metal, I kind of understand. And I kind of wonder why you’re here reading, since we talk about that. A lot. Not to get in broken-record mode, but death metal has just turned into this thing, where you don’t have to disgust or disturb. You even can be kind of pretty doing it! Huzzahs all around! And money. And bad death metal.

I can only imagine what Broken Hope must feel reentering the death metal world and seeing what has become of the genre. Everyone growls now. They all play what we call “death” and try to be brutal. But does it really work? Or has death become just another homogenized form of metal where bands are seemingly cool with existing and selling colorful, pastel-colored shirts at shitty teen stores? Well, that isn’t true death, and I’m sure Broken Hope would agree, so here we go with “Omen of Disease,” the band’s first record since 1999’s “Grotesque Blessings,” a record that came out way, way before death metal exploded as a genre. And got horribly watered down.

Hearing “Omen,” it’s almost as if Broken Hope paid no attention to the music that came out since 1999 nor its shifts. It’s almost as if it is completely uninformed as to how death metal has changed. And thank fuck for that. This record sounds devoid of all the bad ideas that came out since this band last ruled the earth and feels like an album that doesn’t give a damn what the followers have done to poison the waters. They only care about the true blood and guts, and if you’re not on board, oh well.

Broken Hope, like many other bands, have been through the revolving door of changes. Some of that is from the natural creative process, and others has been through nature itself. As of today, the lineup stands as long-timers Jeremy Wagner (guitars) and bassist Shaun Glass. Joining them are new vocalist Damian Leski (original vocalist Joe Ptacek passed away in 2010), new guitarist Chuck Wepfer, and drummer Mike Miczek, and they sound as energetic and bloodthirsty as ever before, ready to take on death metal’s current crop of bands. Look out, kids.

“Omen of Disease” is a compact 36 minutes and 13 tracks, and it’ll gross you out and enthrall you with its gore, zombie apocalypse, and vile cannibalism. It opens with a practical warning sign on “Septic Premonitions,” with its eerie gasses wafting and sirens wailing, leading into “Womb of Horrors” and its pit of destruction. The leads are razor sharp, the soloing is astonishing, and Leski’s growls sound like they tore right through his throat and onto the record.”Ghastly” is in a similar vein, with gurgly vocals, cool guitar trickery, and gut-filled horrors that sound like they could make for one heinous mini-movie. “The Flesh Mechanic” not only is an ominous sounding title, but it lives up to its name fully settling into a gory death groove and even slips into some grindcore territory. “Rendered Into Lard” is a highlight not just for its sticky, bloody terror and weird and prog-like passages, but for a disgusting, stomach-turning skit that might make a meal fairly unappetizing after listening. If you don’t at least crack a smile at this, you take yourself too seriously, perhaps. The guttural title track is brutal and crunchy, and the death groove returns again as it heads into sludgy territory.

“The Docking Dead” is belchy vocally and pretty furious musically, with the band just splattering you with noise, while “Give Me the Bottom Half” is built on strong riffs, a full metallic assault, and and playing that goes back and forth from chunky to stunningly precise. “Predacious Poltergeist” opens on a weird speaking sample, then it delves right into soupy, gooey guitar squeals (something that doesn’t really appeal to me), and those noises return on “Carnage Genesis.” These are my least two favorite tracks on the album as a result, but you might feel differently. It’s just a personal hangup. “Blood Gullet” is fast and pulverizing, keeping the attack short and blunt. “Choked Out and Castrated” leaves very little to the imagination, and it shines because of the weirdness in the guitar work, ugly vocals, and devastating drumming. Closer “Incinerated” is a sort of surprise for longtime fans, as it’s a redone version of a track from their debut full-length album, 1991’s “Swamped in Gore.” It’s a pretty cool bonus that shows how the song has developed over time, and hearing this version of Broken Hope tackle the track is a great way to end this killer new album.

Having Broken Hope back practicing their brand of death is a pretty cool thing, and “Omen of Disease” is a bloody sign that their disgusting mission is alive and well. The new version of the band sounds pretty hungry, and hearing these songs lurch on stage live should be something to behold. Longtime fans might have a bit of an adjustment with the new lineup, but several listens should smooth over any worries and cause you to dry heave over this ugliness in no time.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.brokenhope.com/HOME.html

To buy the album, go here: http://www.cmdistro.com/index.aspx

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

Changes are a way of life in music and for bands, and the number is quite small for groups that begin and end with the same personnel and the same ideas. Hell, metal standard-bearers Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, and Metallica have made many changes to their lineups over the years, and they survive to this day, albeit not always as strongly as they began.

Ever since their formation in 2001, Chicago-based instrumental warriors Pelican have gone relatively unscathed, putting out some classic records that helped metal fans accept and champion a band sans vocals and help tons of other artists follow their lead and make this style not only accepted but popular. Their incredible 2003 debut “Australasia” pretty much is like the “Paranoid” and “Number of the Beast” of instrumental metal, and they continued to pave their path from there, gaining more followers and momentum. But then the inevitable changes struck. Longtime guitarist Laurent Schroeder-Lebec stopped touring with the band and eventually announced his indefinite hiatus from Pelican, and their fans started to wonder if 2009’s “What We All Come to Need” would be their final breath.

Last year, those worries took some weird turns. The band released their very strong “Ataraxia/Taraxis” with Schroeder-Lebec on guitar, and then his departure was announced. But rumblings started to surface about a new, fifth album, and now we have the brand-new “Forever Becoming” ready to begin Pelican’s second phase as a band. Guitarist Trevor de Brauw, bassist Bryan Herweg, and drummer Larry Herweg (he of some of the most ridiculous criticism of all time, something I’ll never understand) reconvened to write the new record, and despite initial plans to carry on as a three-piece, instead invited new guitarist Dallas Thomas into the creative process. It was a big chance the band was taking, but one they seemed intent on enacting.

The new 50-minute, eight-track new album does sound different from the band’s back catalog. It’s not foreign territory by any means, and there are moments that sound like classic Pelican, but there’s a decidedly darker edge to some of these tracks. There’s more doom, a murky pall, and even some thick mud the band trudges through, and it turns out the shuffling had a positive effect on the band. In all honesty, “What We All Come to Need” wasn’t a bad record, but it lacked a little magic we’ve come to expect from Pelican, and that returns on this new album. Turns out the changes had a positive effect, and this is of their best efforts in years.

You feel the thick shadows from the start with opener “Terminal,” a simmering, hazy track that immediately alerts you to the doomy edges and solemnity that encompasses many of these tracks. It takes its time, it sets a mood, and it leads you into “Deny the Absolute,” a song with a much different tempo but one that sounds like it belongs right where it is in the sequencing. It bursts through the gates, with burly melodies, more aggression, and a great deal of crunch, and the charged-up riffs and morose trickling feel thick and chewy. “The Tundra” starts off menacing and thrashy, some of the heaviest stuff Pelican have done to date. The guitars are smeared and gritty, the melodies explore but also penetrate, and there are sections of pure sludge from the band that serve notice that they can break bones just as effectively as everyone else. The conclusion is just pure devastation. “Immutable Dusk” is one of the songs that treads closer to classic Pelican territory both in melody and mood. It’s a nice throwback as well as a reminder that while they may be sporting darker threads, they haven’t forgotten what’s gotten them here.

“Threnody” also has a more traditional feel, but it also has its pockets of spiked violence and chaos, as the guitars are especially dismal and cloudy. But the track also has some atmospheric moments where the storms subside and the sun shines ever so briefly. “The Cliff” is the shortest song of the bunch, with a potent post-punk feel and still some darkness, and that leads into “Vestiges,” a 7:15-long helping of aggression (the basslines are like thick steel coils) and thrashy goodness. Yet, like “Threnody,” the blitz is broken up by some brighter melodies that give the song intricate textures and plenty of personality. It’s a really enjoyable, rollicking listen, and it’s indicative of a lot of this new material that feels like it’s taking deep breaths of fresh air. The 9:27 closer “Perpetual Dawn” has a nice dose of sunburnt guitar and reflective melodies, letting you come down a little from what preceded it, and it has a vibrant soul and solid backbone that makes it a nice curtain dropper for the album. There is more post-punk magic, and halfway through, calm arrives, letting the song become downright gorgeous and melancholy, shimmering and sparkling, letting you take a breath and dream along with them. The tempo and volume slowly return, the band kicks into more energy and speed, and the song crescendos into the night, taking you along with it into the stars.

Change is never easy, and you don’t know what’s going to come from it, but it sure sounds like it was a shot in the arm for Pelican. “Forever Becoming” belongs alongside their trailblazing early work as one of their strongest records, and they sound like they’re hellbent on making this new chapter of Pelican’s run a fiery one. This band has crushing new life and potent intent, and I can’t wait to hear how these songs sound live and what comes next from the revitalized Pelican.

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

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

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

As the skies darken earlier each day, the airs gets colder, and we get back into ritualistic mode of welcoming death and all of its tenets, it’s only fitting we delve into music that welcomes this annual embrace of all things evil and horrible. Ghosts, skeletons, and devils will be everywhere, and as I’ve said before, if you really sit and think about it, these are pretty sick things to be welcoming.

But we do it nonetheless, and this generally is the time of the year when my listening rotation gets much darker and grimier, because I tend to choose my music by the seasons. It is also fitting that we are going to immerse ourselves in “Gratum Inferno,” the debut album from Dallas’ Cleric, a charred, burning, evil platter that’s so good and so infernal, I feel it’s my responsibility to recommend it to as many people as I can. And so here we are, doing just that. Release by Tofu Carnage (a label we’ll be drawing on far more going forward), this seven-track, nearly 30-minute platter of pure death metal might win the record for most references to Satan in such a short time period. It could be a great drinking game. Every time you hear Satan’s name hissed back at you, take a drink. You’re dead by the end of the record.

That’s not to make fun of the matters at hand here. Death metal also has a purely evil past and always dwelled on the darkest, most heinous elements when it was forming as a genre, and Cleric take us back to that time. Their music is gritty, suffocating, and burnt in a large sacrificial pit, and they’re already making for great company as Halloween rolls around and the symbols of pure evil and death are all around us. I can’t think of a better time to absorb Cleric than late at night, when witching hours nears and strange things lurk (or at least our imagination tells us this), although I’ve gotten just as much enjoyment out of this record in broad daylight.

Although we’re finally getting Cleric’s debut now, they’ve actually been kicking around, off and on, for more than half a decade. The band formed in 2007, issuing contributions to a split effort with Pools a year later, and then the group split another year after that, with everyone going their separate ways. The band then reformed in 2011 for a festival, and the machine got its wheels rolling properly after that, leading us to where we are now. Cleric’s members have experience with various other bands, including Kill the Client and the tremendously named Tyrannosorceress, and the current lineup includes vocalist Zac Christian (who jumped on board in 2011), guitarists Chris Richardson and Andrew Hawkins, bassist John Schiller, and drummer Zack Jobin. So we’re still kind of at the beginning of Cleric, and that’s a really good thing.

The title track opens the record with a weird orchestral bit that feels more creepy than classy, and then it erupts into a full-on death assault, boiling and blasting its way along, with burly riffs and strong soloing and vocals that sound like they’re being delivered from hell. “Through the Starless Abyss” is ugly and grinding, and we get one of those aforementioned calls to Satan, with gurgly vocals, dizzying riffs, and enough violence to make you fall over with the room spinning. “From Womb to Tomb” chugs along mightily, with the drums thrashing and mauling your senses, and Christian howling about “Satan’s hunger.” Did I mention they reference Satan a whole bunch of this record? Uh, speaking of which, the next cut “Satanic Dimension” starts with a nasty death groove, as filthy vocals declare, “You will know your one true master,” and the band eventually kicks into a meaty, bloody start/stop rhythm that is pure brutality.

“Into Death and Far Beyond” starts with foggy ’80s-style sci-fi synth, like something you’d hear smeared over a film “Mystery Science Theater 3000” would send up, which is a compliment, by the way. The song then gets horrifyingly thrashy, clobbering everything in its way, yet a sense of melody is beneath, giving the song a catchy vibe even as Christian is pleasing for the dark lord to “destroy the essence of creation.” “Left Hand Wrath,” probably the most creative title on the record, also begins with a weird keyboard display, but then guitars start to whinny out of control, gravelly vocals begin to do heavy damage, and warped guitar parts leave you both enthralled and a little nauseated. Closer “Faith in Debauchery” injects machine-like noises into the song, sounding like a car with a bad engine racing out of control, but the song itself goes slower than those sounds might indicate. It takes its time to settle into a proper rhythm, with guitars charged up, a haunting ambiance taking over the atmosphere, and the song going out on a note that’s practically liturgical, with a chorus carrying out the record to its resting place deep underground.

It may have taken Cleric a little while and a few hiccups along their bloody path to get this album into circulation, but it was worth the wait. This a really good band with a keen eye on death metal’s ranks, where surely they see groups they can devour and dominate in order to prove their superiority. “Gratum Inferno” is a vicious punch to metal’s throat and should only get more deviously effective as each day’s light disappears earlier every day.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/666cleric666

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

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

It’s always exciting to watch a young band grow. I’m talking a band you pretty much know from the start has something special and should only get better as time goes on and they get more experience. It doesn’t always work out favorably in the long run, but every now and again you run into a group that always knows what steps to take next and seems to know where they’re headed.

I remember seeing In Solitude open the first Decibel Magazine Tour, taking the stage before more well-known heavy hitters The Devil’s Blood, Watain, and Behemoth. They played with a swagger and a confidence of a band that could have been the headliners by the way they carried themselves, and when they launched into their set, they showed it wasn’t just image as they had the chops to complement their stage presence. The audience got it, especially the younger members who seemed to be in awe, and something very special was starting to play out before everyone’s eyes.

In Solitude have been on the rise since their eye-opening, self-titled 2008 debut, and their sophomore record “The World. The Flesh. The Devil.” in 2011 cemented the fact that this band was ready to explode in a big way, becoming a new hope for heavy metal, a band that would stay true to their roots and let them grow into the future. And then “Sister” arrived, and things changed. Well, their promise and ability to deliver killer records did not. This third platter is captivating front to back, but they changed things. No longer were we hearing a band grounded in early Iron Maiden and Mercyful Fate, though some of those traits remain. Instead, they’re branching off in a different direction, embracing gothic and ’80s-style post-punk to come up with something that should shake up not only metal’s foundations, but those of the entire rock world as well. This is a big one.

One of the band’s primary forces is frontman Pelle Åhman, whose deep, direct, quivering voice is a thing to behold, and it’s impossible not to hang onto every one of his dark, foreboding stories. He said in a Decibel piece he doesn’t want to be seen as the centerpoint of the band, but when you’re as good as this guy, it’s hard not to be trumpeted. Joining him are guitarists Henrik Palm and Niklas Lindstrom, bassist Gottfrid Åhman (Pelle’s brother), and drummer Uno Bruniusson. They remain heavy and riveting as a band, but they don’t simply adhere to metal on “Sister,” instead letting other sounds enter the fray, making their approach even darker, which is hard to believe. But it’s true, and you know it from the start that you’re into something really different.

“He Comes” is a weird, acoustically led introduction with a chilling melody and entrance door for, yeah, the devil. It’s echoey and haunting, and it works really well as a gate opener. “Death Knows Where” blows open right from the opener’s fumes, with strong guitar lines, a goth feel to the melodies, and a really strong chorus that should work to ignite crowds live. That takes us into the epic of the collection, “A Buried Sun,” that runs over seven minutes and is moody, sometimes a little slower, and wholly mournful. Of course, things ignite eventually, with a trudging bassline and Pelle sounding like a more possessed Ian Astbury, and it’s one of those glaring examples of just how much this band has grown. “Pallid Hands” is a great cut that digs back into those post-punk sounds referenced earlier, with commanding vocals and scorching guitar work that stands as the loudest on this entire set.

The second half of the record kicks off with “Lavender,” a song that sounds like an old Dokken track when it opens and really is the only thing on here that doesn’t excite me. It’s not a bad song, mind you, just not one I’ve repeatedly gone back to visit, though I do enjoy the psychedelic-tinged guitar work, That takes us into the title track, one of the most mysterious songs in the band’s entire arsenal and also one of their best. “Night was no longer as we knew her,” Pelle howls, as the band backs him up with dark sounds and some really strong soloing. “Horses in the Ground” serves up a nice slab of ’70s-style doom, with the band galloping away into a dark edge of the forest, where they’re met by one of the great sirens of all time, Jarboe, who rises like an apparition and delivers a haunting monologue. The song is episodic and dramatic, and it’s another one that shows just how far these guys have come as songwriters. Closer “Inmost Nigredo” has a slow, smoky opening, making it seem like they might slow burn you the rest of the way, but the band has other ideas. The song eventually runs into a Sabbath-style flow of lava, with the intensity and drama building, and the band creating an incredible burn-it-to-the-ground conclusion that should leave you enthralled and breathless.

In Solitude are on an incredible creative roll, and as they progress and log more miles on the road, spiritually together as a band, and as songwriters, they should just keep getting better. This is a fantastic, potential-surpassed record that’s already topped one year-end list and certainly will place high on many others for very good reason. Hopefully they maintain their grasp of the darkness and keep burning their way through the rest of the metal world to the throne where they belong.

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

To buy the album go here: http://www.indiemerch.com/metalbladerecords

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

Great horror, filth, madness, chaos, death, destruction, and doom are all things I want to pop into my head when I’m listening to death metal, and if it doesn’t, I generally walk away disappointed. Not that there can’t be exceptions to that rule, and most definitely there have been over time, but for the most part, I want those things from the music and I want to feel the world being darkened.

Having tons and tons of upcoming metal releases at my disposal, it isn’t easy picking the 4-5 albums to highlight each week, and it’s even tougher trying to find great death metal, simply because there is so much to consider. But now and again you put on something like “…Smouldering,” the first effort from German death merchants Abyssous, and you realize you don’t have to look much further to find something filthy and infernal enough to satisfy your darkest urges. Iron Bonehead Productions apparently felt the same way, taking the band’s 2012 demo and giving it proper vinyl treatment, along with two previously unreleased tracks for good measure. The result is 30 minutes of absolute horror, underground death metal at its fertile stage before it’s ready to fully engulf the earth in its glorious embers. Or, if that’s a little too elaborate a description for you, it’s heavy, brutal, and pulverizing, perfect fodder for helping you release negative feelings.

Abyssous only have been a band since 2011, which makes their debut being such a fine piece of work that much more impressive. Three people dot the lineup, that being bassist/vocalist Deathtrader (Heretic), guitarist Jonty Lava (also of Heretic), and drummer Assassor (formerly of Chornyj Woron). Together, the band creates metal that would make the pioneers of the genre proud, for they have a grasp on the bloody, ugly roots that made this sound what it is. They also add their own dark twists and turns, remaining suffocating, soot-covered, and uninviting to those who don’t understand their craft or what these black arts are about. Those people can remain at arm’s length while the rest of us enter the swarm of chaos, which will capture you immediately.

“Entering the Cave” is a fitting name for the opening track, an eerie ambient cut that does, in fact, make you feel like you’re getting ready to head down a long cavern into the bleak unknown. “Abominations” follows and gives a first real, poisonous dose of what this band’s all about. The drums crush your heart and soul, the guitar riffs are chunky and full of bone fragments, and the vocals are a low-level growl that sound menacing and fearsome. Ah, so that’s what you’ll meet inside the cave. “Burial Sea” starts with guitars bubbling, then charging and galloping right for you with reckless ambition. The song has an old, early ’80s thrash feel, and the soloing that literally erupts from the pockets are deafening and razor sharp. Toward the end, murk settles in and everything gets cloudy, but then it explodes again and ends on quite the savage note. “Invocation” rips itself open at the start and force-feeds you its guts, with guitars chugging away and Deathtrader’s vocals sounding tortured and morbid.

“Black Pyramid” keeps the terror fires burning, with a flurry of guitar lines that could leave you dizzy and scorched, and crushing, charging melodies that continue to deliver the violence. Their bursts of speed on this song, and elsewhere on the album, have a firm grasp on classic death and thrash, and from someone who grew up in that sound’s heyday, it’s most welcome to hear this band nail that kind of delivery. “Profaning Intrusion of…” is another instrumental cut, itself quite spooky, but also a lead-in for “The Inverter,” a punchy, scathing, perverse dose of death built on whinnying guitars, out-of-control playing, and complete darkness. “Exanimation Rites,” a song I thought they misspelled at first, has a wonderfully sinister opening, and it’s packed with total madness, harsh, hellish growls, and metallic churning that draws a great deal of blood. Closer “Abscondence” is a weird, scary outro piece that feels like it was transmitted from deep space, where who knows what kind of creatures lurk, with our planet’s demise potentially in its plans. It’s an unassuming yet fitting end to this thrilling storybook of morbidity.

Abyssous was a great find for Iron Bonehead, who know a thing or two about plucking dark gems and thrusting them into the public conscious, and the band itself sounds like it’ll be a world beater if they continue along this hellacious path. “…Smouldering” burns and scrapes like it should, and it satisfies that need for death metal with a black heart and damned soul. I’ve made no secret I want more death metal just like that, so I’ll happily follow Abyssous along their destructive path.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.abyssous.de/

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

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

I feel like we’ve gotten back to stoking some heavy metal tradition around here, what with last week’s round of reviews and some of what we have planned for this week. For someone who has grown up and developed along with metal in my ears pretty much at all times, it all washes over me like waves of nostalgia, even if we’re talking about new bands.

It has seemed over the past few years that there is a concerted effort from a lot of bands today to rediscover older sounds, be it thrash or death or the strains of NWOBHM, but a lot of times it feels like it’s more of a marketing gimmick. But you know when you hear a band that really feels and believes in what they’re doing, and I always got that sense from Argus, a band that hails from Franklin, Pa., and who certainly have played a good bit in my hometown of Pittsburgh. In fact, the band was just here a few weeks back opening for Dawnbringer on a bill of bands that have a strong grasp of the roots of metal and how to reinterpret the sounds that built the genre (Ladybeast being the other band that night).

That evening in question at Howler’s, Argus also rolled out some new cuts from what was their their forthcoming new LP “Beyond the Martyrs,” their third effort overall and follow up to 2011’s “Boldly Stride the Doomed.” The new cuts seemed to hold up just fine against their older material (in fact, some fared even better), and while I didn’t go into that show a huge fan of Argus, the appetizers of new songs at least made me interested to hear what they came up with for “Martyrs” (and the on-stage endorsement of the record by Chris Black sure didn’t hurt either). Having had a few weeks to absorb the new album, I find myself liking it more and more each listen. Yeah, it’s a little silly at times (and really, you could say the same thing for predecessors Iron Maiden, Dio, Black Sabbath, Pentagram) and Butch Balich’s vocals can be a bit over the top, but that’s part of the fun, I think. This is one of those bands that refuse to put their tongue in their cheek, and they deliver heavy metal goodness the way it was intended. I respect that, and I’ve found myself becoming a fan of this band because they hold all the same ideals that I do as a listener. Plus they make me think of swords.

OK, so we mentioned Balich, and he’s a pretty commanding presence live simply through the sheer power of his voice and the fact that he is fucking into it, and along with him are guitarists Erik Johnson and Jason Mucio, bassist Andy Rampage, and drummer Kevin Latchaw. All these fellows ply their trade in other bands as well, including Molasses Barge, Oh Shit They’re Going to KIll Us, and Penance, but when they converge under the Argus banner is when all members seem most at home. By all means, pour yourself a nice dark stout (preferably one with a high ABV), turn down the lights, burn the candles, think about demons and sorcery, and tackle this record in a place where you can let your metal inhibitions run free.

“By Endurance We Conquer” opens the record with images of frost and ice, a mission to cross Antarctica, and the dawn of the first global war, with Ernest Shackleton’s famous words giving the track its title. The song has a pure ’80s power metal feel, with Balich pushing the story along, and the rest of the band backing him with strong lead guitar work and metallic glory. “No Peace Beyond the Line” chugs and hammers its way forward, with some grittier vocals and a really strong chorus. That leads to “The Hands of Time Are Bleeding,” a song with an ominous title and dark words drizzled over the steaming pile of epic power, with Balich howling, “Dark by my heart, take all this pain from me.” “Trinity” also charges pretty hard, with steaming guitar work and some really weird melodies that make this track stand out from the rest of the “Martyrs” pack. It also feels a little off in spots and, while it’s interesting, it’s not the strongest song on here.

“Four Candles Burning” picks up the pace big time, however, with a commanding song that would make Dio proud. The guitar work slices a path forward and dashes full speed ahead, and Balich’s vocals shine the brightest here, with him calling, “To walk the hall of nevermore.” This is a really killer track. “The Coward’s Path” delves deep into doom territory, one of the darkest moments on this record, but then it pushes back into power metal balladry (not in a bad way at all), with Balich delivering vocal lines that sound inspired by the great Bruce Dickinson. Like all songs of this type, the song kicks into high gear toward the end and goes out in a total blaze of glory. “Cast Out All the Raging Spirits” is heavy and menacing, as you might imagine from its name, and the song is thrashy and razor sharp all the way. The vocals take complete control, and the band practically stands on the edge of cliffs with torches, ready to conquer the world. The closing title cut is an instrumental track that travels all of their influences, from the NWOBHM strains to epic power to dark doom, giving you a little taste of everything as they bring the record to its end.

“Martyrs” is by no means a perfect record, but it’s one hell of a good time, especially if you pine for the early days of heavy metal when bands still were laying the foundation for what we all enjoy today. Argus take you back to a time when the metal roads weren’t exactly paved yet, but the pioneers had the bravado and fire to blaze their own trails. They stay true to that spirit and add their own righteous contributions to the cauldron, making them a band to which you should raise your glass and thank them keeping tradition alive.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.cruzdelsurmusic.com/store/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=640

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

Hype can have both a positive and negative effect, especially when it comes to music. On one hand, it can draw up interest and reveal something to a new audience that perhaps was not aware of the band or album. On the other hand, when the praise hits a fever pitch and seems in complete overdrive, it can turn people away from the music for an admittedly dumb reason.

I admit that when I got the new Carcass record, I already had been overwhelmed with praise and enthusiastic reviews, and I had the record about two months before street date. So that early wave of frenzy was a little much for me, and it had a negative effect on my experience with the record initially because I had been inundated with glowing words about it. Then I got over it, ignored what I already had heard (over and over) and realized it’s just a killer record that had longtime fans going overboard because they got something they’d been waiting for.

If you follow sites like ours, and ones larger that blanket the terrain of extreme metal, no doubt you have heard everyone going batshit over “The White Goddess (A Grammar of Poetic Myth),” the new record from German epic metal band Atlantean Kodex. You pretty much can’t avoid it. Because of my Carcass experience, I purposely tried to avoid the umpteen million reviews that came before this one so I could digest the album with a clear mind. Not that it was impossible to avoid all the hype, but I can still read headlines and such in my Twitter and Facebook feeds, so I knew people were going nuts. But now that I have–repeatedly–visited this record, I’m not sure if it would have mattered if I had read one other review or a million. This record is just stunning, a perfect portrait of epic metal that harkens back to Bathory, Helloween, Manilla Road, and Candlemass, and Atlantean Kodex’s power is just crushing. Spend some time with “The White Goddess” and see if the songs don’t begin to etch themselves permanently into your brain.

The record has surging guitar work with lead lines you practically can ride on (credit to guitarists Michael Koch and Manuel Trummer), a solid rhythm section that rumbles and rivets (basisst  Florian Kreuzer, drummer Mario Weiss), and vocals that soar into the clouds like a great bird. Honestly, had vocalist Markus Becker been around in the ’80s, when this style of metal was at its apex, he would be considered a god. Now, with so many bands using growls and shrieks (especially with the overflow of death and black metal), his work might feel like a shock to the system. I’ve even heard it suggested before he’s an acquired taste. I guess he is if you have to adjust to expertly delivered clean vocals that rivals singers such as Bruce Dickinson, Ronnie James Dio, and Michael Kiske, but if you do, that’s kind of sad. His vocals just kill, and so does this band on their incredible second record.

Another note is Atlantean Kodex are a heady group of folk, delving into history, folklore, war, and more, and going through their lyrics sheet might have you keeping Google handy so you figure out just what they’re on about. We’re going to concentrate more on the music here, as we could be here all day breaking down and analyzing the words. Plus, I found it half the fun reading up on what’s going on (I did the same with 2010’s “The Golden Bough”), and maybe you’ll end up doing the same thing. That’s one of the reasons I loved Maiden growing up (and I still do) because I’d get a killer record and I’d learn something.

The intro piece “I. Trumpets of Doggerland (There Were Giants in the Earth in Those Days)” takes almost as long to hear as the title is to say, and it’s a regal opening complete with trumpets, chants, and glory. That leads into “II. Sol Invictus (With Faith and Fire),” a track dedicated to author Paul Busson, one of Europe’s great fantasy writers, and the track just bristles with energy, from the bellowing opening call from Becker to the exploding melodies and charging anthemic pace, and the great, infectious chorus that keeps coming back and causing your blood to rise. After another short instrumental “III. Bilwis (Sorcery and Witchcraft in Eastern Bavaria),” complete with acoustic passages and fires crackling, it goes into the monstrous “IV. Heresiarch (Thousandfaced Moon)” that thunders like a classic Metallica track in spots, and bathes in heaviness but also maintains its melodic edge and furious hooks for which the band is known. The song paces itself through raucous hills and more tranquil valleys, and the awesome storytelling never does anything but completely enthrall. “V. Twelve Stars and an Azure Gown (An Anthem for Europe)” begins with a clip from Winston Churchill before it launches into one of the most breathtaking songs on the record, a track I hesitate to call a ballad that’ll trigger the wrong thoughts, but it is full of emotion and passion, with Becker declaring, “Our new Jerusalem we found.” It’s eight minutes of brilliance, one of the best epic metal songs in a decade that deserves to fully unfurl across stadiums for the masses to witness.

“VI. Der Untergang der Stadt Passau (Flaming Sword of the Watchers)” is the third and final instrumental cut, with acoustic guitar and waves lapping at you, and it sets the stage for “VII. Enthroned in Clouds and Fire (The Great Cleansing)” that opens by robbing you of your breath, and unleashing chimes and gothic undertones that create a sense of murk. Along the way, Becker sings of “a winter without end” and an “ancient harbinger of the end,” as he envisions religious shackles being broken, people being overcome by disease, and the apocalyptic fears of many coming to pass. Closer “VIII. White Goddess Unveiled (Crown of the Sephiroth),” a song awash in images of Kabbalah and that brings to full steam a collection of the band’s incredible lead guitar lines that conjure great feelings of nostalgia in this writer who grew up feasting on epic and power metal in the ’80s, huge choruses, and a majestic performance that puts a gigantic, fiery exclamation point on this record and brings down the curtain on one of metal’s most impressive performances of the entire year. If this record came out in 1987, it would be a time-honored classic. That’s not to suggest it can’t still be one.

So hype sometimes serves a noble purpose. Atlantean Kodex may only be two records into their run, but they’re onto something special. “The White Goddess” is a record that could bring people back into the metal fold who perhaps gave up on the music in the ’90s or ’00s because something this brilliant is raising up the genre. And it could be a great lesson for younger fans who think all bands have to growl and snarl their way through everything. This is one hell of a great heavy metal record by one of its finest new bands, and this one should stand the test of time, long after we’re all gone.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.atlanteankodex.de/

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

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

In a week when we’re talking about classic, sometimes elegant heavy metal releases that feel like magical folk tales and historical battle retellings bombarding our listening, it seems like the right time to get ugly and talk about something perverse and rotten and completely bathing in filth. Trust me, we’ll get back to the majestic tomorrow, but today we’ll cake our faces with coal soot.

If you’re in a miserable mood where you just feel like burning everything in the world, you could do yourself many favors listening to Philadelphia-based black metal shadows Hexer, a group that plays no live shows (though they’re booked for 2014’s Gilead Fest!, offers no promo photos, and seems content to live in the corner of the darkest, dankest basement, seeking to jump out at you like an agitated spider. The band’s music sounds like what it would if you took the concept of music, somehow formed it into a tangible object, and put it through an industrial fan blade. Then once you were done, you set the fan on fire because, why the fuck not? Their fusion of black metal, punk, and thrash is infernal and completely buried in filth, yet it maintains an inviting edge. Melodies pull you in, make you feel comfortable for a moment, then shake you upside down until the contents of your stomach appear on the floor.

Hexer is comprised of three people, that being guitarist/bassist Phlegethon, vocalist Ansgar, and guitarist/drum programmer Lazarus, who also holds a primary role with fellow black metal warriors Mutilation Rites. I won’t totally give him up here since we aren’t exposing identities of the other two (and we don’t know anyway), but a little research will get you your answer. Together, they make metal that could not be rougher around the edges, with sounds that harken back to the second wave of black metal when it was the utmost compliment for your band to sound as non-produced and raw as possible, and vibes that could give you the chills and cause you to keep looking over your shoulder. This sounds like a demonic nightmare seen and heard through cellophane, and as ugly and foreboding as it is through its 36-minute running time, you just can’t look away. It’s too good, too suffocatingly beautiful that you can’t help but stay on for the whole ride, even if your psyche is telling you that might not be the best decision for you. Just give in and let out your inner hell.

What you hear on this band’s self-titled debut LP (wisely released by Gilead Media, who have a knack for unearthing gems like these) is a compilation of two cassette releases they put out in 2011, remastered by Adam Tucker with morbid new artwork by Ansgar. Thankfully, the underground chaos was kept in tact, there was no effort made to make these songs sound more polished, and the utter hellish vibe was allowed to remain, with Hexer sounding like they’re ready to take up arms against humanity and smear the blood across the night.

The six tracks aren’t given names other than Roman numerals. And considering this LP is put together from the tracks of the two cassettes, I goes in front of the track names from the first release; II before those from the second. So, “I:I” kicks off the record with a melodic buzzsaw fury, with riffs sounding like they’re a product of both punk and black metal (I hear some early Nachtmytium in this). The vocals are maniacal and frenzied, sounding like a demon on the loose, and spindling guitar lines and bubbling menace end the track in smoke. “I:II” is thrashy and dizzying, with razor-sharp lead guitar lines totally buried in noise, and Ansgar’s vocals riding along with the bloody stomping and galloping that the band serves us generously. “I:III” caps the first half, feeling like a static-drenched nightmare, with Ansgar howling annihilation and hell with her inhuman shrieks that rise along the band’s insanely catchy riffs.

The second half opens with … you guess it, “II:I.” Again, melody surges up, giving you the idea that they like to put an extra-infectious edge on their metallic pestilence, and there are parts of the song that are damn near danceable. That’s right. But you’ll get hurt doing that because you’ll have to go too hard and too viciously, so just sink into the riffs that taste like raw meat dipped in sugar. And violence. “II:II” opens with a riff that sounds kind of similar to guitar work found elsewhere on the record, but then it gives way to abject terror and abrasive vocals, scorching lead work, and an absolute drubbing that’ll leave you exhausted. But save room for “II:III,” a song with some serious crunch and a threatening demeanor, like you’re looking into the eyes of someone whose primary goal is malice. The vocals remain harsh as fuck, though there are moments where they smooth up just a bit. As the song reaches its conclusion, the band adds some new colors and textures to this hell-borne blaze, letting the record burn off with apparitions of the world ending and humanity suffering playing out in front of you.

It’s scary that you could walk past the members of Hexer on the street, and you wouldn’t know the chaos and tumult behind their eyes. They see you destroying yourself and the world around you, and they’re here to add gas to the fire and mock you as you burn. This mysterious band has a world of promise, absolutely crushes in the most animalistic way, and hopefully can conquer the planet before it eats itself.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.gileadmedia.net/store/

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