Combining dynamic, accomplished forces into a single unit can bear all kinds of results. On one hand, all of the parts could work together beautifully to create an unstoppable, hulking machine. On the other, the larger components at work could clash and try to remain individualistic, thus rendering their formation pointless.

When the new band Palms was announced, many ears perked up because it was to be the union of three members of one of the greatest post-metal bands of all time in ISIS along with the singer from one of the ’90s most misunderstood, miscategorized bands in the Deftones. Being a fan of both bands, I instantly was excited to hear what these four guys would bring to the table musically, and like a lot of other people, wondered if it would sound like ISIS fronted by Chino Moreno rather than Aaron Turner. And if that ended up being what it would sound like, would that be a good or bad thing and would it sully the very idea of the band?

The band’s debut actually did not turn out the way some people expected, and while there certainly are elements of ISIS’ style–and come on, how could there not be with 3/5 of the band comprising this unit?–this is a band unto itself. You couldn’t exactly slip this in the middle of an ISIS discography without it seeing weirdly out of place sonically, and it certainly does not sound anything like a Deftones album. Instead, guitarist/keyboard player Clifford Meyer, bassist Jeff Caxide, and drummer Aaron Harris took their musical dreaming a little further into hazey outer space, and Moreno figured out a way to weave his poetry through what they conjured. It’s not an immediate-sounding record, and there’s nothing on here you can hack off for an up-tempo playlist, but if you’re in the mood to soar and soak for about an hour, you’re bound to find plenty of enjoyment in this.

This record also is a nice one with summer arriving, at least for someone like me who loves to have something cerebral and calming when it’s time to chill. I’m already planning on listening to this record a lot later this summer once beach vacation arrives, and I think it also would sound quite fitting for a near-dusk drive on a warm evening, when you just want to see sights and enjoy the surroundings. Each of these songs provide a panoramic view into a dream or life moment that you want to let seep in for proper understanding, and it’s easy to get lost in these six compositions that are bound to excite you.

Watery, gazey “Future Warrior” opens the record on tranquil note, as guitars float and Moreno begins to weave his tale, which takes a dark twist when he notes, “The closer I am, I notice something’s wrong with you.” The keys behind the song are mournful, and eventually all the rest of Palms catch up with that emotion. “Patagonia” spreads itself out in a calculating manner, as the music trickles and pools at the start, with distortion and reverb-rich vocals meeting it and taking the song into bumpier terrain. “Mission Sunset” lets its noise settle on the ground, and the song follows more of a mid-tempo path. Moreno pushes the intensity a little more on this one, letting some jerky screams accentuate his lines, and the rest of the band meanders along a little too long for this track to be fully effective.

“Short Wave Radio” has more liquidy melodies, slipping in like a spirit, with Moreno vowing, “I would never leave your side.” But that tranquility is short lived as the song eventually gets more aggressive, with Moreno howling about “descending into hell” while gazing into heaven. “Tropics” is perfectly named, because it’s easy to imagine being stranded in a boat on a large, calm body of water while the sun burns away. The song is shimmery and numbing, as Moreno observes, “Over the sea, the waves go by.” Closer “Antarctic Handshake” feels like a long, drug-induced slumber, where your mind is wandering and wondering. The band helps you slip into a comfort zone with their repetitious composition, with Moreno admitting, “It’s time to let go.” It’s a sad thought, really, but one that sometimes we have to confront and deal with.

Palms’ debut is a good one that wasn’t what most of us thought it would be, and that’s just fine. It’s not a perfect document by any means, as some tightening here and there could have made some of these songs a little stronger, but it’s a minor quibble about an otherwise rewarding record. Hopefully this band has a future beyond this record, because it would be interesting to see how Palms grow and progress as time goes on.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.bluecollardistro.com/palms/categories.php?cPath=1657

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

As more bands adopt the “do shit yourselves” model, the ones that have been doing that thing pretty much the entire time they’ve been in existence are going to be the ones leading the way while everyone else catches up.

It’s not that you can’t operate with a label behind you. Bands like Jucifer and Dillinger Escape Plan have tried to take as much control as they can of the operations for their respective groups, though both have plied their trade for record labels at the same time. Jucifer especially, who are nomads and work to ensure their model works best for them. These bands seem to have a more intimate connection with their fans and certainly seem way more like one of us. That’s because they are. There’s no pretension, no sitting above their audience, and that makes for a fanbase more invested in the band, even if that doesn’t necessarily mean playing larger halls or making more money.

Canada’s Fuck the Facts is another band that’s done whatever they feel like doing for their entire run, be it touring or creating, and even with a label like Relapse behind them, they don’t lean back and relax in their arms. In fact, the band seems to put out more music on their own than for Relapse, and it feels like every months FTF have something new to offer their fans. Their discography listing on Encyclopaedia Metallum is borderline hilarious. It helps greatly that everything they put out can damn near peel the paint off your walls with its intensity and power, and they certainly don’t gouge their listeners. Now, the Canadian postal service is another story. FTF’s downloads are insanely affordable, and if you do spring for physical copies of their output, you generally get a package you can tell is hand assembled, adding another personal touch.

The band is back again with a new EP “Amer,” a seven-track effort you can have digitally, on vinyl, or on cassette, and it shows FTF making more strides creatively and continuing to morph into a new monster every time out. The band certainly retains its grindcore roots, but they’ve added a lot more classic heavy metal and rock swagger over the years, and that’s on full display on this effort. Another noted difference is the amount of vocal contributions from other band members to complement Mel Mongeon’s banshee wails. Bassist Marc Bourgon and drummer Mathieu Vilandre also howl and growl over some of these songs, adding a new dynamic to FTF’s sound and giving Mongeon other presences to play off of while she’s killing you. The rest of the band is rounded out by guitarist and founder Topon Das (who also produces music for a number of killer bands), the only remaining member who has been around since the beginning, and guitarist Johnny Ibay.

The record gets off to a simmering start on “Une triste vue,” with melodies that swirl and chafe, military-style drumming, and growly singing that sets to stage for Mongeon to come in and rip the walls down. Immediately the use of dual vocals pays dividends and shows a different, more chaotic side of FTF. “Vent du nord” has harsh screams, sweet power metal-style guitar runs, growls that mix in with Mongeon’s demonic wails, and even some monstrous prog-fed punishment to give you a few more kicks for good measure. “Panser la plaie au lieu de soigner le mal” opens with Mongeon sounding possessed and unstoppable, as the guitars stab and boil, and the band reaches a quaking level of bone mashing.

“A Void” is a curious little cut with humid, sweaty guitar clouds that hang in the air, setting a mid-paced tempo, and burly growls are the only words we hear on the track. Then it’s into “Jour de souffrance,” a grinding, gurgling cut that rolls in broken glass and bleeds everywhere. Mongeon is on fire once again, and the band makes great use of the shorter space with an effective burst of violence. “L’enclume et le marteau” has a massive hardcore-laced edge, with a bursting breakdown coming at the song’s midpoint, and all three vocalists practicing an all-throats-on-deck approach to their messaging. It’s a pure fireball of frustration and rage. Closer “Amère” is a curious one that begins with experimental guitar hissing and charging that rises up, erodes, then fades into the background. That’s before this muddy bastard really gets it feet moving and mooshes you face-first into a wall, with Mongeon screaming emotionally as if seeking meaning and understanding. Behind her is a rather somber melody that’s unlike anything else on this record and is another example of the band’s dexterity as players and writers. Then it blows up and destroys your life.

Fuck the Facts certainly are not devoid of inspiration or creative means, as they seem to have something meaty for us every year in which to indulge. “Amer” is another satisfying mini-portion from the band that’ll keep you full until they serve up another full-length or even an additional smaller release. Whatever it ends up being, we’ll be ready to listen eagerly because Fuck the Facts always have something thought-provoking and challenging to heave at us, whether we’re ready for it or not.

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

To get the album, go here: http://fuckthefacts.bandcamp.com/

Often I ask what constitutes metal, but when I do that, I’m not trying to rein in the parameters. I’m trying to expand the borders and say that I don’t consider the genre limiting at all. It should be anything an artist wants it to be, as long as some of the tenets of metal are kept in place.

But I’d like to think we’re smart enough to know our limits. A pop song with one guitar line can’t be deemed metal, but a charring, aggressive metal song with a hook and some shine certainly still can be considered part of the genre. Also, we don’t have to have riff into riff into chorus back into riff to be metal, nor do we need outright violence to adhere to the genre’s boundaries. I’ve always thought of metal as having an open mind artistically, and if something is going to piss off the masses, what’s more metal than that?

That brings us to “Return to Annihilation,” the new effort from Locrian and their first exclusively for Relapse. It sure doesn’t sound like Nordic Satanic majesty or power triumph, but damn it, if it isn’t metal through and through philosophically. The band never will be mistaken as the most brutal, violent in the history of metal, but they have enough crunch, savagery, and fury to keep their roots firmly in the ground, but they also dream beyond borders and imagine things that could be possible if artists took metallic seeds and let them grow wherever. This type of music is full of possibilities, and Locrian is one of the bands not afraid to see how far they can take things. This new record blasts through the doors and gives metal a whole new identity.

The band has been at it for quite some time now, and it’s comprised of Andre Foisy, Terence Hunnum, and Steven Hess. For a long time, they recorded for the awesome Land of Decay, as well as other labels, and their addition to Relapse’s roster is a boost for both parties. It’s a great signing for a label that’s been extending its borders in recent years, and Locrian deserves the added exposure, distribution, and attention they’ll get. This is a fantastic, mesmerizing band that’s long been thought provoking and stimulating but now have a chance to reach more people.

The first half of the album is what’s going to feel most foreign to long-time Locrian listeners. The opening four tracks are some of the most atmospheric, exploratory material in the band’s catalog, and you might be wondering what’s going on at first. But hang on. This is Locrian after all, and you never can put definite expectations on their records. So we open into “Eternal Return,” a song with a rather poppy keyboard melody line and shimmering lights, but also some harsh shrieks and surging guitars. That leads to “A Visitation From the Wrath of Heaven,” a song that floats on long waves of repetition, accompanying beats that seem intent to hypnotize, and doomy, perversely danceable sections. But, of course, when you’re being lulled into a trance, the song explodes all of a sudden, and you’re swimming in chaos. On “Two Moons,” we’re back to a sense of serenity, and some of this track reminds me of Mount Eerie in spots. “Exiting the Hall of Vapor and Light” has warped, cool melodies and a drone ambiance that hangs above the room like a swarm of insects. Guitars are picked at and the ground swells beneath you, making a nice exit out of the first half and into the fire.

The second half is where the ugliness and fury return, with the title track leading the way with its droning singing, buried shrieks, segments of catchy progressive doom meandering, and its foreboding sense that something’s about to go very wrong. The surging guitar lines built into the song might make you move at first, but then the savage vocals come in and cut you off before you have a chance to settle into a groove. “Panorama of Mirrors” is outright scary at times, with its hellish noises, buzzing pockets of guitars that aim to cut you at the waist, and a general sense of unease. Gazey guitar fire kicks up, groove blasts in with the bristling drums, and shrieks and cries are sent off to the hopeless ends of hell, seeking a voice of comfort that never quite arrives. It’s black and ugly, and anyone who bitches Locrian have lost their metallic edge apparently missed this miserable, deranged son of a bitch. The 15:29-minute closer “Obsolete Elegies” brings things back around from a volume standpoint but never relents in its intensity. Its opening strain of strummed guitars slips into poison vapors of synth and make for a creepy, cold, isolated psychological adventure. It sounds like heyday Pink Floyd at times, and that panic and anxiety those historic greats can cause to well up in your chest, Locrian prove just as capable of making you shiver and scream for silence. This is a powerful closing statement and also leaves a hint of something perhaps they’ll explore a little more in the future. These guys could make one mindfuck of a psychedelic record, if this cut is any indication of their powers.

Locrian get more ambitious, rewarding, and surprising with each new release (and they have plenty of them), and this record is a perfect one to introduce them to a wider audience Relapse can provide. Their records are journeys through time and space, and you often have to be mentally prepared for what they have in store. “Return to Annihilation” is a triumph for an already accomplished band that doesn’t care to adhere to genre restraints, creative boundaries, or even cosmic distance. They’re traveling full speed ahead while everyone else tries to catch up.

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

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

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

I’ve never been to outer space before. I know. You’re shocked. But I’ve thought a lot about it and always wonder what’s lurking in giant pockets of space where no human ever has, or possibly ever will, see before. Are there other creatures? Is there technology elsewhere we can’t even wrap our heads around because we’re not even aware of life on that plane? Or is everything cold and isolated?

Apparently the bands Mare Cognitum and Spectral Lore also have those same wonders, and unless I’m totally missing some huge news story, they also have not traveled the universe. At least not physically. Each are one-man projects, each coming from different parts of the globe, but when it comes to imagining what the great beyond holds, they’re not that far away from each other. Perhaps that’s part of what inspired their new conjoined effort “Sol,” a three-track, nearly 70-minute album of bleak black metal, lung-filling atmosphere, and chilling ambiance. The two artists each get their own track on “Sol,” each song lasting nearly a half hour each, and they combine for the cosmic, dreamy finale, putting both of their ambitions on display at once.

Mare Cognitum we visited last year with the release of the stunning “An Extraconscious Lucidity,” a record that also focused on the universe and reveled in the chaos of cosmic events. Sole creator Jacob Buczarski always manages to captivate and enthrall with this project, as he has over the course of two full-lengths. He’s at it again on “Sol,” where his knack for savagery is perfect for balancing out the serenity. Spectral Lore is the project headed by Ayloss, of Greece, who has drummed up three full-length records and a few split efforts since coming to life in 2005. He focuses on similar subject matter as Buczarski, which is why this union makes perfect sense, and their combined forces make “Sol” an astonishing listen, one that’s perfect for when you just want to stretch out and dream what may be out there.

Mare Cognitum kick off this collection with “Sol Ouroboros,” that starts with a slow, eerie build that stretches out over a few minutes and lets you breathe in the atmosphere. The song grows more spacious, like you’re slowly hurtling toward the deeper ends of the galaxy, and Buczarski eventually unleashes some echoey growls as the song heads into strange shadows and soupy weirdness. The track has some disarming melody that gives you a sense of ease as you slip in frozen isolation, and the last portion leans into prog, great black metal adventurousness, and a finale that’ll catapult you into the next chapter of this story. More great work from Mare Cognitum, a project that deserves more attention and adulation for making huge soundscapes cut with metallic intensity. The song doesn’t even feel half as long as it is, it flows so well.

Spectral Lore’s track “Sol Medius” follows, and it opens with a windy ambiance and progressive doom sludginess, and then the song totally bursts open with chaos and punishment that’s from the stars. The melodies build on each other and surge through the song, lighting up the night’s sky and pushing you toward an emotional high. The song then dips into calm—this becomes a theme, by the way, as it continually goes from harsh to soft—only to explode again and spit light in your face. This song is a constant up and down ride, in a really good way, and once it fades into slow doom, you might find yourself breathless from the journey you just took.

The two artists combine for the final cut “Red Giant,” a 15-minute dose of thick drone and noise hiss that ever so slowly builds in intensity over its running time but never supernovas. Nor should it. The idea here isn’t to scar you but fully soundtrack the incredible disappearance into the great blackness, your body’s eternal trip into places no human ever has explored before. It’s a swooshing, swirling chunk of noise drone that puts a fitting ending on this joint work.

Obviously this type of record will find a niche audience and isn’t there for people who need brutal blasts in four-minute chunks. You need to let this record sink in, and you have to be a willing participant in order to get the most out of “Sol.” My many visits with this record have been fruitful and rewarding, and it  sparked my cosmic dreams anew. These are two groups meant to create stories together, and hopefully they find time to do this again.

For more on Mare Cognitum, go here: https://www.facebook.com/MareCognitumMusic

For more on Spectral Lore, go here: https://www.facebook.com/MareCognitumMusic

To buy the album, go here: http://www.i-voidhanger.com/mailorder.htm

For more on the label, go here: http://www.i-voidhanger.com/

Sunday evenings in my house often are spent like this: My wife is in the kitchen putting together some elaborate culinary creation for the week, while I’m in the living room with the dog watching stories about serial killers and murderers on A&E. I’m not a fan of serial killers, per se, because that would be kind of perverse, but I am interested in how they operate and come to be.

It’s mesmerizing to think how these people function, how they psychologically can deal with taking another person’s life, usually in a horrifically brutal manner, how they blend into society without people suspecting them, and how they find the means to kill again and again and again. I guess it’s good I can’t identify with the frame of mind, but often times the deeper I dig into these people’s stories and where they came from, the more I can understand–on the surface, anyway–how these monsters came to life. It’s also probably a major reason I don’t trust a lot of people. Any of these people can be lurking anywhere, and they’d probably be right under our noses.

Japanese doom metal vets Church of Misery obviously feel the same way as they have carved out an entire discography covering this subject matter, and that follows through on their latest record “Thy Kingdom Scum,” their fifth overall and first since 2009’s “Houses of the Unholy.” Here, as they normally do, they present their song titles along with the killer who inspired the jam in parentheses, so not only can you get caught up in their swaggering thunder, you also can learn about the sick fuck who inspired them to make said song. Funny enough, their music isn’t scary in the slightest, as they do a nice trad Black Sabbath and grimy Eyehategod hybrid, and you’re likely to be as astonished by their organic playing as their subject matter.

Like many bands whose history spans nearly two decades, Church of Misery have had their share of lineup changes, with bassist Tatsu Mikami the one constant through their history. Drummer Junji Narita has been with the band since 2000, while guitarist Ikuma Kawabe is the new kid. Vocalist Hideki Fukasawa has been in and out of the band, though he did sing on “Houses” and 2004’s “The Second Coming,” and he’s back in the fold for this one, and we’re thankful for that. He can have a bit of a mush-mouthed delivery sometimes, but that’s part of his charismatic charm. He’s growly, bluesy, and wonderfully over the top, but he never emotes at the expense of the music. He’s there to enhance things and the messages, and I hope the band never has a different singer. He’s essential.

Instrumental “B.T.K.” opens the album and even though there are no vocals, that doesn’t mean horrible things aren’t vocalized, as we hear Dennis Rader’s chilling courtroom testimony as he confesses his crimes, while the band backs that up with trippy, bluesy riffing and a shuffling assault. “Lambs to the Slaughter,” inspired by Ian Brady and Myra Hindley’s terrifying run of child murders, swaggers and has a thunderous melody, as Fukasawa’s vocals sometimes remind of Phil Anselmo at his nastiest. There’s also some fantastic guitar work in this song that could make anyone go for the air version of the instrument. “Brother Bishop,” about Gary Heidnik, who tortured and murdered women, is a solid Sabbath-style bruiser that also has a taste of psychedelic sweetness. Awful story to be retelling, but the band finds a way to make the music compelling and fiery, while you cower at the details.

“Cranley Gardens,” based on Dennis Andrew Nilsen, who murdered 15 young men in London in the late ’70s/early ’80s, is slow and eerie through much of its running time, with Fukasawa mumble-moaning his words and the band launching into a sweltering blues jam at the end.

The band’s cover of Quartermass’ “One Blind Mice,” might seem odd with the subject matter we’re talking about, but the band does a fine job re-enacting this gem and putting their buzzy, distorted stamp on the song. “All Hallow’s Eve” is about John Linley Frazier, who violently gunned down a doctor and his family in Santa Cruz, California, in 1970, also has the Sabbath vibe and has more of the band’s trademark tight playing and spooky storytelling. Closer “Düsseldorf Monster,” which focuses on Peter Kürten, a German murderer whose bloody crimes occurred in the late 1920s and terrorized that country, is bluesy, scratchy, grimy track that’s the longest on here at 12:45 and one of the most grisly subject-wise, especially as Fukasawa howls, “Here comes the monster.” The doom simmers, the powerful bassline pops you over and over, and the psychedelic expression puts a gigantic exclamation point on this destructive, scary album.

Church of Misery’s fixation with serial killers might make their friends and loved ones a little nervous, but as for us metal fans, we should be thrilled. Every time they set out to tell more gory stories, we get smoldering slabs of doom metal that are as fun to hear as they are to dissect. If you’re one of the many who go out to grab that new Sabbath album this weekend, pick up a copy of this one, too. You might find yourself going more toward “Thy Kingdom Scum” than that long-awaited return from metal’s godfathers.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.churchofmisery.net/

To buy the album, go here: http://www.indiemerchstore.com/item/19347/

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

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

Finland, here we are again. Another dark, crusty, bruising slab of death metal from your country, a place I’m sure is beautiful, though I’ve never been there, but you’d think otherwise from some of the grimy chaos your musicians have emitted recently. Not that I’m complaining. Keep it as dark and nasty as you can make it, because the run of death squads from your country has been impressive.

And once again we’re settling in with a Dark Descent release, as they’ve culled a hearty, rich crop of the bands from that area and have brought the world some of the finest underground acts going, this time striking gold with Lantern. This duo is a new entry into the world, but they grew out of something already in existence, that being their previous band Cacodaemon, but on the eve of that group’s dissolution, Lantern was forged. This group combines guitarist/bassist/drummer Cruciatas and vocalist Necrophilos into a raging, coffin-ready unit that keeps their sound and influences concentrated on the death bloodstream of the early 1990s.

The band’s full-length debut “Below” follows in the footsteps of a couple of demos and their 2011 EP “Subterranean Effulgence,” and they slowly, carefully crafted these seven tracks that slither by in a little under 40 minutes. That’s a perfect length for this record, as they don’t waste time trying to conjure filler material and they keep the proceedings as violent and mean as they possibly can, meaning “Below” is a perfect dose of their dusty, doomy, infernal death metal but is long enough that you’re definitely going to feel some bruising when it’s over.

This vicious strangler opens up with “Rites of Descent,” that boasts a filthy death riff that opens the casket door, and the wild growls and maniacal screams let you know doom has arrived. There is plenty of crunch, murky fury, and razor-sharp guitar leads that cut through the madness. “Revenant” feels like terrible storm clouds settling in and getting ready to rock you in your house, with talky growls, fast and aggressive playing, and tumult that reminds me a little of Sepultura at their very earliest. “Wrenching Presences” has a morbid atmosphere and a riff that would make Slayer in their prime jealous, and that sets the stage for swirling terror, raw viciousness, and a swarm of anger that boils and bursts. “Manifesting Shambolic Aura” is fast, fuming, and evil through and through, and if you didn’t get that from the sound of the song, you surely will when Necrophilos ritualistically chants, “Ave Satan,” and calls him, “My lantern in the dark.”

“Demons in My Room” might appear cartoon horror film-style from its title, but its doom-infested, dizzying punishment makes it seem more like a first-person account of a haunting rather than something involving buckets of fake blood. “Below” is a slow, numbing, droning instrumental that leads you through a horrible door and right into the 9:20-long closer “From the Ruins.” The track ignites pretty early on, indicating it might go off the rails and take you with them, but they pace themselves, take moments to grind your face into the pavement, and really make sure you’re suffering at the fullest. Then about halfway through, the track ignites again, growls and snarls pour out, terrible chants rise up, and the forces of hell grab you and force you into their suffocating caverns, leaving you forever a bloodstain on the Earth’s crust. Or something like that.

Once again, Dark Descent have found a Finnish abomination to unleash onto an unsuspecting public, and result will mean more lost souls, more demented minds, more crushed bones. Lantern are one hell of a devious force that plays death metal as truly and purely as they come and have nothing but bad intentions in mind. The record might not lead you into eternal damnation, but it’ll give you one generous taste of what burning forever might feel like.

For more on the band, go here: http://lantern.dy.fi/

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

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

I like to be surprised when listening to music or getting my hands on a new record, as that’s one of the things that keeps my interest level high. But now and again it’s nice to have safe haven bands where you know what you’re going to get and that ease and comfort helps you slip into a comfort zone.

But just because a band’s output can be predictable doesn’t mean the group is lazy. Today’s subject matter, Swedish Viking enthusiasts Amon Amarth, certainly have their formula down, that being melodic, smooth death metal that digs up tales of Norse mythology. Their records are always excellent sounding, well-produced slabs of goodness that are gooey and tasty but also provide enough hammer blows to satisfy your extreme urges. I unabashedly love the band and always have, and even as my metallic tastes grow darker and more underground, bands like Amon Amarth will always have a soft spot in my heart because I also like to have fun.

The band’s ninth record “Deceiver of the Gods” is about to land, and if you’re into the band and their canon, you’re going to be right at home when tackling this beast. The songs sound huge, Johan Hegg is in fine voice as always, and there’s enough epic glory contained within the record to keep your blood surging for months. But a deeper look at the record also finds some nuances that do surprise, from the darker guitar work, a couple of longer songs that set drama and intrigue that remind of their earliest work, and even one hell of a great special guest appearance that should have doom metal fans foaming at the mouth with glee. But we’ll come back to that one. Yeah, this sounds like an Amon Amarth album, but it’s certainly got some unpredictability weaved in here and there, and that makes for one of the band’s more captivating albums.

Much of Amon Amarth’s lyrical content this time focuses on Loki (or Loke), the dark, mischievous Norse mythological character whose trickery with the higher powers above is referenced in the album title. But that’s not all they’re on about this time around, as they focus on all kinds of fantastical, mythological elements that combine to make for a really fun record, and a rousing adventure to boot. Along with the burly Hegg are guitarists Olavi Mikkonen and Johan Soderberg, bassist Ted Lundstrom, and drummer Fredrik Andersson, the same group that’s been making hellacious noise since 1998, and they don’t sound like they’re anywhere near running out of energy or compassion for what they do so well. Also, Andy Sneap is the man behind the production, and he gets the gigantic, boisterous sound this group does so well, and this is a fantastic-sounding record.

The band kicks off with the thunderous title track, built with glorious guitar work, bashing drumming, and Hegg’s meaty shout, showing early on that you’re not going to disappointed by the band, though you may be surprised from time to time. “As Loke Falls” has a mournful guitar line that introduces the cut, later some fiery finger tapping, and then the song explodes into a raucous storyteller that seems to reveal some Iron Maiden influence. “Shape Shifter” imagines its character morphing into “the eagle in the sky” and howling wolves at night, and it’s a pretty classic-style Amon Amarth cut. “Under Siege” has some punishing, tricky guitar work, and it feels like the band is trying to take some chances here, with more atmospheric play and some rollicking bass work. It’s not totally foreign or anything, but it feels like they’re trying to branch out a bit.

“Blood Eagle” is one of the more savage cuts on here and has a sound that’s more reminiscent of the band’s earlier days. It opens with a gory assault of some poor bastard being ripped apart, before guitars stampede you and the revenge tale lowers its dark curtains. “We Shall Destroy” goes back to thrashy, deathly familiar ground, and it’s a pretty spirited bit. “Hel” is the most impressive, surprising, and thrilling track on here, one of their most unique songs in some time and one that features a mammoth special appearance in the form of Messiah Marcolin, the legendary former singer of Candlemass. His dramatic vocals add a dark, shadowy presence to this song and should creep you the fuck out. His high-pitched wails work perfectly with Hegg’s beastly growls, and this song puts an eerie stamp on this damnation tale. “Coming of the Tide” goes back to explosive melody and aims to get your adrenaline going again before epic closer “Warriors of the North,” an eight-minute war song that is awash in wintry battle and reaching “Valhalla’s mighty gates.” It’s everything this band does well smashed into an extra-sized helping, and it’s a great way to cap off this quaking album.

If you’re a longtime Amon Amarth fan, you won’t be disappointed in the slightest. The band’s staying true to you, and even when they throw in something different, it’s more to enhance their sound and ignite fresh explosions. There’s nothing wrong with these guys treading familiar waters because they do it so damn well and they never come up with anything boring. They’re a barrel of fun, and this record should be a barnburner well into the summer, when our flesh is getting tanned and we’re sampling the finest ales the world has to offer. Cheers!

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

To buy the album, go here: http://www.metalblade.com/amonamarth/order.php

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

I do more writing other than what you see on these pages, and recently I was assigned an album by a newish hardcore-style band on a pretty sizable indie label that probably is going to sell really well. I could not be more confused about why or who their audience is or what people get out of their brand of … I guess it’s hardcore. I am not their audience, and anyone looking to their music for something to spark their heart surely isn’t going to get the jolt they need.

Luckily that criticism doesn’t stretch across the board for all newer bands in the hardcore realms, as Full of Hell prove mightily on their latest effort “Rudiments of Mutilation,” brought to you by the fine folks of always reliable A389. In fact, if you’re still breathing steadily and don’t feel like you got a workout after tackling their 10-track, 17-minute new album, e-mail us and we’ll get you the name of that other band. And probably a really smarmy sympathy card for doing this all wrong. These noisy, death-inspired hardcore blasts to the face are just what you need if you’re in a horrible mood and want catharsis (and funny enough, I am writing this as my Penguins battle the Bruins in Game 3 of the Eastern Conference Finals … UPDATE: They fucking lost) or just need something to light a fire under you so you can go on and get your work done.

Another thing I really love about this record is its brevity. It’s not for a lack of ideas at all. Rather, it seems the fellows purposely tried to keep the record slim, trim, and devastating, offering you no filler material at all and doing their best to make best use of the shorter space to hit you harder and faster. We live in a world of bloated, over-stuffed albums short on inspiration, so when you get a fucking beast like this record, that’s over in under 20 minutes, you know you’ve been served a better quality of mayhem than you would have if they tried to push this thing to 50 minutes. Also, their live shows should be even more violent because of these songs, and that’s a promising thing for anyone who wants to throw themselves head-first into the pit and get massacred. These guys will bring it.

“Dichotomy” is a noisy, tortured opening that spreads the chaos, with horrific wails and dissonant damage that’s almost like an introduction to the madness. Then it’s into “Vessel Deserted” that is packed with total fury and fiery violence, rolling along threateningly before it slips into sludgy doom. Then it explodes again and races to its finish. “Coven of the Larynx” certainly is a bizarrely titled song that is wholly confrontational and punchy, and that leads to “Indigence and Guilt,” a heaping mountain of hardcore doom that’s mixed with thrash and destructive shouting.

“Embrace” is a pretty weird cut that is also the eeriest, with feedback whine, noise squalls, and bellowing vocals that come off as deranged and haunting. The warbling, mentally deranged song is at its bloodiest with the shouts of, “Fucked to death in the street!” “The Lord Is My Light” is screeching and dangerous and does as much damage as it can in its 19 whole seconds of life. “Bone Coral and Brine” blows up and spits right in your face, challenging you to get in front of it and stop it. The title track is a speedy, gurgly burst of energy that lasts a mere 21 seconds and tries to break as many bones as it can during its span. Closer “Contempt of Life” simmers in noise and electric swelling, screams float above the raging storm, muddy doom moves, and the cut ends with fractured whispering and molten punishment. It’s one hell of an end to a tumultuous experience.

So all Full of Hell needed were 17 minutes to do this much damage and make an impact this severe. I’m certain there are people disconnected to a lot of hardcore out there and even some of the current death metal crop because they don’t feel like these bands mean an ounce of that, but Full of Hell are not that way. They are maddeningly heavy, violently passionate, and as effective as any band in their genre, and the road is just beginning for this band. That should thrill and frighten you.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://shop.a389records.com/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.a389records.com/site/

It’s getting pretty warm here in the States, and for me, the time to go on long sojourns in the woods is making its way back around again. Luckily where I live, we’re blessed with a pretty nice parks system, so heading off on the trails for a few hours can be a fun adventure, but you’ll always find your way back again. That temporary escape is always nice.

Along with that, it’s nice to have music that can accompany and soundtrack the trip if I’m by myself (which, admittedly, I rarely am) or that helps me get into the same headspace if I’m in the car, at work, or wherever. I’ve always found that vibe when listening to long-running Austrian band Summoning and their rich, folk-led, atmospheric dark and black metal. Their music is full of adventure and imagination to begin with when considering their Tolkien-inspired lyrics and their forays into the Dark Ages, and they do their thing so lushly, it’s impossible not to get caught up and whisked away to the forest, where who knows what awaits you.

For those of us who have followed Summoning’s musical path since their birth two decades ago and their 1995 debut “Lugburz,” we’ve been waiting a long while for new music. The band hasn’t given us a new full-length in seven long years, the last coming with 2006’s excellent “Oath Bound,” and in the meantime, I think we all were kind of wondering what was taking so long. Then again, their craft comes to them naturally, so they couldn’t exactly move if they weren’t inspired. So despite the long stretch of time between their last record and newly arriving “Old Mornings Dawn,” they clearly were tapping into something that moved them. Perhaps old videogames like “Zelda” or “Rygar” even came to mind, as much of the glorious synth on this seventh album sounds like what you might hear if you were controlling the hero from one of those franchises and trying to save the day. It’s a total rush, one that’ll make you feel like holding aloft a goblet of victory and war sword when it’s over.

The two who create all of this are the same who have been at the helm of every Summoning album since 1995’s “Minas Morgul,” the band’s second album. Protector handles vocals, guitars, keyboards, and programming, while Silenius takes care of vocals, keyboards, and bass. Both are members of other bands such as Die Verbannten, Ice Ages, Cromm, and Amestigon, but they do their best work with Summoning, a project that always finds new ways to capture the mind and body and give you something to help you rise above the daily doldrums.

After the shining gold intro that is “Evernight,” it’s right into “Flammifer,” built on tons of percussion, even more keyboards, a feel that the song is a hymn pulled from the Middle Ages, and melodies that will sweep you up and carry you into battle with them. The chorus is understated but very emotional, and I’ve noticed I can’t get that sequence out of my head. The title track sounds like the spirited music that would greet you upon completing a new level on an adventure videogame, as screamy vocals erupt, horns blow, and victory seems to burst from every corner. As the song surges and reaches its conclusion, a king-like monologue erupts, almost as if it’s reading the state of the land. So ridiculous and so awesome. “The White Tower” opens with steely guitar lines and huge woodwinds, and later strange chants and colorful melodies meet head on with black savagery. This sounds like a song written for a sun-splashed field during a summer festival.

“Caradhras” opens with big strings, drama-filled synth (no, really, synth?), and an abrasive guitar line that meets up with woodsy choruses and more mangled fun that goes on for nearly 10 minutes that don’t feel nearly that long. “Old Pale White Morns and Darkened Eves” has tribal-style drumming and throat-mangling screams, wild howling, and magnificent compositions that soar along with the bird constantly screeching during the song. “The Wandering Fire” sounds like the guys are trying to channel elder spirits and ancestral knowledge, with mallet-style drumming and high drama with music sounding like it’s trying to spark a fire that’ll light the entire forest. Closer “Earthshine” is the only track I’m not totally in love with, mostly because of the metalcore-style growl-singing that doesn’t sound that great. Musically, it’s just fine, as the guys meld black metal and atmospheric prog into a really weird stew.

It goes without saying I’m really excited to have Summoning back making music, and it also makes me want to find an old Nintendo and fire the bastard up for some drunken land-sacking. If we have to wait seven years for something this good, then that’s fine with me. But I’m not getting any younger and would love a few more Summoning masterpieces before I die in 350 years.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.summoning.info/

To buy the album, go here: http://shop.napalmrecords.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.facebook.com/napalmrecords?fref=ts

I grew up in the arms of thrash metal. I was formed by bands such as Testament, Overkill, and Nuclear Assault, and they are the ones I hold dear to this day. Those are the bands I look back on and try to imagine my formative years without. They were the gateway to extreme metal to me, and thrash is a genre I hold very protectively against my heart.

You might notice if you regularly visit this site that we don’t do a hell of a lot on the current crop of thrash bands. The reason is that I find so very few worth talking about. That’s just me and my feelings toward modern thrash. So many of these younger thrash bands didn’t live through that era, so they didn’t get why it worked and why it swept up people like me. Glam metal was in complete excess but punk roots remained raw with thrash bands, the 1980s were all about me me me, and at any moment you thought there could be nuclear fucking war. I don’t hold that against younger bands for not being alive at the time. Wasn’t their fault. But it’s hard to capture the true essence of thrash when you didn’t live through that time. Except that some still manage to do so.

That’s not to suggest that all young thrash bands aren’t worth your time, because that just isn’t true. Look at Municipal Waste’s first few records or even someone like sci-fi weirdos Vektor. They’re tight and seem to get it. But there are two new bands just coming into their own that also seem to have a grasp for what makes this style work. Noisem, who kicked off the festivities at this year’s Maryland Deathfest, and Power Trip, who provide all the proof you need that Southern Lord still care about metal, should make your heart burst with life if you, like me, are an old thrash crusty. Both bands’ debut records are great thrash revelations, and I love the shit out of both albums.

Funny enough, one of the bands’ members are young enough to have missed out on most of the latest wave of thrash revivalists, but you’d think they’ve been alive for decades the way they play. The other band sounds commanding and punishing in ways I wish all young bands in all genres would emulate. One band is the impressive, obviously hungry Noisem, who destroyed the masses with their ridiculous stage garb and smashing riffs, and whose members range in age from 15-20. Not a typo. Go read it again. The other is Power Trip, whose debut full-length is yours via Southern Lord and who have enough attitude and power to mash every other thrash revivalist to a pulp.

As noted above, the Noisem kids are young, but they’re nasty and hungry. The band started off as Necropsy and originally recorded a version of “Endless Aggression,” but A389 wisely picked them up, the guys changed their moniker, re-recorded the songs, and it’s full speed ahead at their new home. Tyler Carnes is the fellow shouting at you and spinning grisly yarns of death and gore, and he’s backed by guitarists Travis Stone and Sebastian Phillips, bassist Yago Ventura, and drummer Harley Phillips. These guys are raw still, which suits them fine, and have room to grow, but their debut is a strong statement that they’re here to help give this thrash revival a proper shot in the ass.

They rip the lid off this 26-minute album with “Voices in the Morgue,” a death-filled, horror-based basher that gets things off on the right foot, with killer riffs and confrontational vocals. The menace continues with “Birthing the Bestial,” a speedy, punchy song that ramps up the aggression and takes you into “Desire and Disgust,” a 1:19-long beating that is furious and vicious. “Mortuary” is their best shot at classic death mixed with thrash, as the band launches into a bloody groove, and the howled chorus of, “Welcome to the mortuary,” could even get metallic greyhairs feeling nostalgic. “Rotten Remains” is both intricate and gruff, letting them show off their talent while they slay you. “Severed” is a total blitzkrieg of destruction, while “Split From the Inside Out” is a really catchy cut that reminds me of the early years of Anthrax. “Chronic Dementia” has guitar lines that seem to retread past territory, though it’s still powerful enough to hold its own, while the closing title track gets one final death blow into the picture, with awesome thrash runs, pulverizing drums, and total madness.

Noisem’s power cannot be denied, and this band obviously has a huge future ahead of themselves. They made a smart move by doing a shorter record, lasting under half an hour, because it shows what they can do but leaves you wanting more. Definitely pay attention to this band, because their fury is just getting started amassing a body count.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://shop.a389records.com/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.a389records.com/

Power Trip have been at it since 2008, and along the way they’ve built a nice following and a solid collection of EPs to get people hungry for what they could do on a full-length. Their brand of thrash mixes in old hardcore and punk, as well as death, and their delivery is full speed ahead, pummeling you about the head and torso with their maniacal wares. The band is comprised of vocalist Riley Gale, guitarists Blake Ibanez and Nick Stewart, bassist Chris Whetzel, and drummer Chris Ulsh. Southern Lord is putting out the band’s debut, which makes a lot of sense, and this is the best signing along with Agrimonia they’ve had in a long time. Well, at least when it comes to the metal realms.

Their debut long-player opens kind of weirdly, with the title track sitting in simmering noise and weird sound effects before they hit their groove and blast you in the mouth. “Heretic’s Fork” is fast and mangling, with great soloing, a mashy pace, and raspy shouts that stick to your side like a scab. “Conditioned to Death” is flat-out awesome and the highlight of this record, with really tasty thrash pockets that follow each chorus that’ll make you want to punch a cement block. “Murderer’s Row” sounds like what you’d expect from the title, with speedy vocals and huge gang shouts. “Crossbreaker” is the other killer on this record and could be the one that ends up being a live staple, not only for its penchant for violence but for its shout-backable lyrics. “Drown” begins with some sludgy mashing and a bowed head or two toward doom, but eventually it all blows back up again. The song “Power Trip” seems like a fitting band anthem, one that should spark some defiance in their crowd live, while closer “The Hammer of Doubt” opens with a line from the movie “Blood Simple” before they unleash more carnage and chugging explosions that leave you exhausted and bruised.

Power Trip’s a band that’s certainly in the right place on Southern Lord, alongside labelmates like Black Breath and The Secret, and they could be the label’s breakout band of the year. “Manifest Decimation” is one hell of an effective, hammering debut, and it proves once and for all to all who whine about Southern Lord’s hardcore-based signings that they still can find great fucking metal bands.

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

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

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