We live in perilous times, but if you look back over the past four decades, this hardly is the first time it seemed like our very existence was at stake. The original waves of thrash bands in the early 1980s had their own version of Republican bullshit to endure, and they also didn’t have a suitable opposition leader to dethrone Reagan, thus the fires of this brand of music came firing out of the canon, fully ablaze.

Long-time thrash legends Hirax have endured the ages very well, coming out of California in the early ’80s and establishing themselves as one of the tried-and-true leaders. Yes, they didn’t gain the acclaim of a Metallica or Anthrax or Slayer, but here they are, still turning out quality thrash that sounds as fresh now as the style did in its origin. Still at the helm is lifer Katon W. De Pena, as unmistakable a voice as you’ll ever hear, and he and his band are cooking on “Faster Than Death,” their first new full-length in 11 years. De Pena is joined by a new lineup on this record in guitarist/bassist Neil Metcalf and drummer Danny Walker, and they lay waste over nine tracks and just 22 minutes, every second of it channeled, politically and socially charged, and bound to kick your ass.

“Drill into the Brain” starts with, you guessed it, the sound of a drill, and this opener rushes by with reckless abandon, opening the thrash gates like only Hirax can, getting in and out in a little more than a minute. “Armageddon” is speedy as hell, De Pena’s classic vocals toggling the line between wild howls and power-style sirens. The bass acts as a steely spine as the guitars launch into overdrive, ripping to a molten end. “Drowned Bodies” blasts the doors in, the bass thickening along with the metallic crunch, guitars taking off and dashing. The chugging blasts harder as rock is dislodged from earth, De Pena declaring, “Rather die than live like a slave.” The title track erupts, De Pena howling, “Your time has come, make way for the gods of war,” as speedy, trudging madness consumes everything whole. 

“Psychiatric Ward” is another quick blast, dashing and bludgeoning, the vocals spat like hot nails, the riffs gaining more energy and slicing back at bone. “Relentless” tears open, the drums stampeding, the cries of, “Warfare! Iron fist!” breaking down doors. De Pena lambastes the greedy politicians and makes a very on-the-nose accusation of, “The corporations are filthy rich,” which sadly won’t end anytime soon. “Revenant” has guitars floating before the temperatures skyrocket, yowled vocals landing hard across the chest. The playing mashes and trucks, a classic thrash feel having its way, the pace causing blood to race to your face. “Warlord’s Command” is a re-recording of a track from the band’s 1985 debut album “Raging Violence,” and it gets a punishing remake while maintaining the spirit of the original. Closer “Worlds End” torches, De Pena howling, “Survive or die!” over the molten chorus. Guitars lather as the tempo destroys, the bass mauls, and everything comes to a raucous end, smoldering in ash.

Hirax remain as vital and punishing as ever more than four decades into their run, and “Faster Than Death” lives alongside the rest of their catalog quite capably. This is classic thrash in the best sense, raging with political anger, societal upheaval, and a sense that heavy metal is alive and well in a form we haven’t seen capably reinvented like death or black metal. This is a powerhouse of a record, one that will add some deadly gems to their already thunderous live shows.

For more on the band, go here: https://hirax.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://armageddonlabel.bandcamp.com/album/faster-than-death

For more on the label, go here: https://armageddonlabel.bandcamp.com/

Black metal has grown and flourished in many ways, and that hasn’t left everyone happy. I’ve always been one who’s fine with a sound’s evolution as long as it doesn’t stray into something unidentifiable, and there’s plenty out there to please most. Yet, there’s something about the basement aesthetics of the one-man black metal project that still gets me, a primitive state we don’t hear that often these days.

Aspaarn return with their fourth record “Oblations in Atrocity,” and it feels like it swirls in the early 1990s, when the point was to use instruments and tools that were lo-fi, to the early 2000s when strong playing under the canopy of chaos was more widely embraced. Here, sole creator Solaris Lupus builds upon his already ash-caked discography with these six tracks that feel like lost phantoms crying out in a damned night. Yet, if you listen closely through the glaze, you can hear the melodies, the carnage, the mental anguish that informs these songs. At the same time, the creator is reimagining ancient European culture where multiple deities informed life as well as lashing back at modern scourges such as totalitarianism, bigotry, repression and other ills that continue to haunt and destroy us.

“The Order of Fear” opens in a thick haze of eeriness, the washed-out black metal attack feeling like it originates from the beginning of the subgenre. The drums maul while the cries are buried beneath the noise, grim hissing and tornadic guitars doing battle, chaos caked to walls, the furnace opening and dragging you inside. “Memories in Suffering” clubs instantly as the guitars fire up, raw cries rippling as the guitars crawl into the darkness, encircling as the drums hammer. The pace races harder, digging in as the morbidity thickens, crushing with gravitational force, the howls smearing as the chaos finally subsides. “Silence of the Gods” brings warped guitars tangling, and then everything speeds up as cavernous sounds absorb your sense of self. The pace drives and drubs, sooty melodies taking hold, carving pathways as the pressure builds and explodes.

“Duty in Hecatomb” brings humidity and lapping guitars, growls retching as the pace strangles, monstrous gasps activating your nervous system. Guitars flood and stagger as hypnosis takes hold, the playing turning cold and bowing to echoes, the sooty finish spitting infernal sludge. “Boundless Hunger” hammers with urgency, staggering through disorienting passages, working into a heated, yet jerky section that shakes up your insides. Growls lash as the pace shreds, crazed and molten punishment aligning, guitars jangling to a dusty grave. Closer “All Reaching Misery” is the longest track, running a healthy 9:38 and lighting up with guitars raging and howls twisting guts. The playing warps as the drums open wounds, strange synth haunting as a gothy pathway is stomped with madness. Things continue to disorient even as the hammers drop with force, the guitars expanding and charging, the vocals taking full command one last time, and the final notes dissolving into an inky synth bath.

Aspaarn’s journey into maniacal delusion and unquestionable darkness feels like a nightmare that refuses to release its grip on “Oblations in Atrocity.” This record harkens back to the basement black metal record from two and three decades ago, as that terrifying nostalgia hits blackened brains and tortured hearts that have suffered immeasurable damage over that time. This record is a sort of wormhole back underneath the blanket of sonic damage, one that acknowledges our own wounds along with the creator’s and turns them into an altar at which we can burn these woes and spread the ashes into our mouths. 

For more on the band, go here: https://aspaarn.bandcamp.com/music

To buy the album, go here: https://aspaarn.bandcamp.com/album/oblations-in-atrocity

Are you exhausted yet? It’s still February? I don’t know how practical it is to think of the next four years and imagine a way to escape relatively unscathed mentally. We’re full bore into the most obvious coup ever, and the normal ugliness has reared its head with these people. It’s easy for me to be drained as a mere spectator. So many people already have and will suffer unnecessarily just based on hatred toward different from them.

On “Ruby Red,” the 10^th album from long-running neoclassical/folk band Amber Asylum, the evil surrounding us gets put under the microscope. This is musically and thematically one of their darkest records ever, and they ideally soundtrack the era in which we’re forced. Over seven tracks and 40 minutes, the band—Kris Force (viola, violin, synth, vocals), Jackie Perez–Gratz (cello, vocals), Fern Lee Alberts (bass), Becky Hawk (percussion, vocals)—focuses on societal upheaval, war, human rights, and the constant threat to women’s freedom and power. It’s frustrating to keep seeing the same fascist bullshit happen again and again, and while the music here is gorgeous and haunting, the pain and the anger can be felt radiating through every second of this mesmerizing record.

“Secrets” is an opening instrumental piece, strings scraping over dour tension, shadows sweeping the agony of the ages underfoot. The playing picks up and further enraptures, blood surging as strings flex, emotions blare, and the final moments mix into the mirage. The title track has bass slinking and the singing fluttering, plodding as foreboding images spark your brain. The playing quivers as drums echo, bathing in total darkness, sweltering once more before burning off. “Demagogue” has dread setting the stage as the strings respond in kind, the singing hovering over mournful passages. The playing sinks in its teeth and rows over waves into quieter terrain, lapping and coating with numbing effect. “The Morrigan,” named after the Celtic goddess of war, death, and fate, streaks into sight, the layers thickening, cloud cover growing impenetrable. The melodies get tougher and more menacing, energy swirling with drama, slipping behind visions that dash blood at the end of this instrumental. 

“Azure” dawns in a strange electric haze, threatening drone chaos as the cello pushes off, the singing swelling and radiating in echo. The haunting haze thickens as the bass picks up and adds ominous tones, the strings ache, and feral cries ring out, feedback dining on flesh left over on bone. “Weaver” feels like a dream state at first, doomy melodies washing over long festering wounds, wordless calls pulling with might for a semblance of control. The playing blends deeper with the impending doom, drizzling dank colors before disappearing into oblivion. Closer “A Call on the Wind” has the singing hovering, ghostly strains lingering, the bass plodding through a surreal reality. Sounds clash as the strings layer, the drums drive harder, and the singing reverberates, sending tingles through your nervous system. The energy flutters as anxiety spikes, pushing loud, pulsing drums into your heart before fading away.

“Ruby Red” finds us in one of our most perilous times, and the plight of our world that already was a thorny road looks to be getting blood soaked all over again. It’s frustrating and infuriating, and while Amber Asylum deliver the fitting amount of despair, they also provide pinholes of hope that light can shine through. We all face harrowing times, some more deeply than others, and music like this stands as both defiance and potential optimism for a world in turmoil.

For more on the band, go here: https://amber-asylum.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://us.spkr.media/us/Artists/Amber-Asylum/

For more on the label, go here: https://en.prophecy.de/

It’s natural for trends to bleed into music as subgenres grow, warp, and reformulate, changing a sound largely based on events that preceded more recently. It’s made for some really inventive music, but it also can be just as refreshing when it seems no time has passed at all, and the music you’re experiencing feels like it thrives in no progress.

That’s admittedly a kind of shitty way to talk about death metal crushers Cryptual, but it’s a total positive when I say their style of music feels like it missed every evolution since the early 1990s. That’s by design as the band—vocalist Paul Ellis, guitarists Tony Capodilupo and Brad O’Malley, bassist Jimmy Palmer, drummer Kevin Stenseth—formed because a bunch of Milwaukee dudes wanted to get together to play classic death metal, and on their debut full-length “Convulsing Above the Ground,” they serve up a smoking serving of the good stuff. Over seven tracks and 25 minutes, Cryptual send up a sharp, perfectly portioned beating that gets in, does ample damage, and leaves blood and bone behind.

“A Painful Grace” opens in complete demolition, growls buried beneath the carnage, trudging with power. The guitars blaze with fury, the pace stomping and destroying, the heat consuming everything whole. “Muted Liturgy” delivers infernal smashing, howls ripping, and a monstrous fury having its way. The leads char as a melodic sweep takes hold, speed and ferocity combining to become a major factor, total decimation driving to an abrupt end. “Never Born Again” crunches and chugs, vicious leads going off and tangling around your neck like a cord. The playing then goes off, bubbling like a molten stream, the growls curdling as the band thrashes harder, scorching to the end. “Rotten Inside” has leads swinging and the growls mangling, setting into a throttling pace that mashes. Growls batter as the speed becomes a greater force, the guitars stinging as the playing grows brutally catchy, burning into ash.

“Self-Inflicted” trudges and injects heavy violence musically, the path feeling muddy and jagged, functioning like a battering ram opening up holes in the earth. A ferocious force rips from its center, the guitars adding more heat to an already steamy pile, ending in vile chaos. “The Walls Melt” has leads that scorch flesh, the power bleeding and blasting, the playing battering completely. The temperatures spike as the soloing takes control and lathers with madness, a fast, jarring attack coming at the end that buries you in dust. Closer “Thrall” attacks, monstrous force blowing through walls, melodic, yet flattening playing aiming to take down buildings. An ungodly blast detonates, twisting through volcanic madness, guitars taking over and rampaging to the end.

There’s no need for a fluffy ending here or some kind of philosophical meanderings because Cryptual ravage with old school-informed death metal that will utterly torch you with melody. “Convulsing Above the Ground” is slim and trim from a timing standpoint but utterly hellacious as a full package, a record that will make your blood pump and your body ache. This is a motherfucker of an album, one that should get Cryptual a lot more attention and adulation after they skewer you alive.

For more on the band, go here: https://cryptualdeath.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.ironfortressrecords.com/collections/all-iron-fortress-products

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

Being fucking old, I remember when heavy guitar rock ruled many stations on the radio. Oh, we used to listen to the radio a lot. We didn’t have streaming services, so when we wanted to hear our favorite jams, we either had to shell out money for the record or wait to hear it on the radio.

Scorpion Child is as throwback to the era, and yeah, this is also said in their bio, but it made me think of that immediately before I ever read the press materials. That means I’m right. The Austin-based band operates on the outer edges of metal, though four decades ago they’d be lumped right in, and on their third album “I Saw the End as It Passed Right Through Me” they get you charged up early and often. Over eight tracks and 37 minutes, the band—vocalist Aryn Jonathan Black, guitarists Asa Allen Savage and Adrian Arostone, bassist Garth Condit, drummer Ryan Henderson—drives forcefully, bringing heavy rock that practically is designed for the heat, though it sounds pretty good here in the winter.

“Be the Snake” is a rousing opener with guitar generating heat and hand drumming encircling before things come to life. The riffs lead as the simple, but sticky chorus dominates, soloing bubbling out of that, sending blood pressures skyrocketing. “Actress” starts mystically and then gets burly, the singing pushing as the bass drives. The melodies hit overdrive as the guitars swim and storm, flowing into energetic tidal waves, Black repeating, “Such a lonely life,” as the final sparks wash out. “Outliers” brings glimmering guitars, making things feel mildly psychedelic before the power ignites. Things get heavier and punchier, the calls of, “Long way, it’s a long way,” rushing your brain. The soloing ramps up and scorches, ripping anew before heading into “See the Shine” that’s grittier with the vocals following suit. The pace is more mid-tempo than what precedes it, and there are darker, echo-rich corners that haunt. Guitars then smoke and charge, gaining momentum as the vocals pick up the steam again, landing bigger body blows as your lights fade.

“The Starker” starts with drums encircling, guitars gliding, and the bass flexing as the temperature slowly rises. The intensity picks up and carries over into reverbed guitars, giving off a slight Rush feel, the clouds gathering and increasing shadows. “Wired Corpse” opens with the vocals driving, Black’s voice getting raspier and reminding a bit of Billy Squier. Group commands of, “Shut up!” send jolts as the soloing catches fire and coats with smoke, with Black declaring, “I’m high and still alive!” “Godskin” pulls back musically but not emotionally, as Black stabs, “You let us die, it’s a genocide.” Guitars swell as the calculated pace pushes into icy ambiance, everything else bursting at the seams with twin leads obscuring vision. Closer “Hanging Sun” starts with winds blowing, acoustics entering, the singing scraping as a softer, rustic edge develops. Clean guitars glow as crows caw, and a weird exhaust pushes through and ends with crackling fires.

Scorpion Child definitely feel like a band landing many years past when this style of music was popular, but oddly that makes them kind of refreshing in this era. “I Saw the End as It Passed Right Through Me” cuts could end up on your local classic rock station and fit right in, though it would stand out for being a little heavier than the rest of their playlist. This is a fun, fiery record that pays no mind to trends or expectations and just fucking goes for it.

For more on the band, go here: https://scorpionchild.bandcamp.com/music

To buy the album, go here: https://scorpionchild.bandcamp.com/album/i-saw-the-end-as-it-passed-right-through-me

Not every heavy metal record greets you with blood-surging excitement, ready to bathe you in the glory of an art form that misunderstood by so many. That’s OK, by the way. Some albums and bands serve up misery, or death, or total blackness, sometimes a combination of all of those. Still, it’s nice when one kicks you in the ass with ferocity and fervor.

Long-running Viking metal band Ereb Altor is one that never pulls back on the melodic tidal wave while still maintaining a thorny exterior. On their great 10^th record “Hälsingemörke,” the Swedes add to their lore with seven tracks of molten gusts that mix power, classic metal, death and black metal to their hammer-wielding attack. Longtime listeners know this is nothing new, but they tighten their assault and leave their edges as razor sharp as ever as the band—vocalist/guitarist Mats, guitarist/vocalist Ragnar, bassist/vocalist Björn, drummer Tord—unleashes something that could bring together followers of Iron Maiden and Bathory alike. On top of that, they just keep getting better and more nuanced.

“Valkyrian Fate” charges out of the gates with mighty melodies and powerful singing, the calls of, “In times of fire, in times of war,” ricocheting off the inside of your skull. Warm leads lap as vicious shrieks enter, laying waste even as other colors surround, a blast of energetic fire taking you to the finish. The title track opens with clean leads that meld with ferocity, the vocals coming in their native tongue. The playing is sweltering as the melodies surge, gushing through mighty singing and a sweltering chorus, the energy sending seismic waves that drive to a massive crescendo. “Ättestupan” charges and chugs, mystical synth wafting to create a fantastical element, immersive playing thickening the moodiness. Darkness swells and the playing pummels, an enthralling force pushing back hard as the song comes to a spirited end.

“Vi Är Mörkret” starts clean before it bursts, strong singing and scathing howling uniting, guitars lathering and daring. Shouts rouse as fiery madness sprawls, the pace stampeding as the singing soars, the drums gut, and everything fades into the cold. “Träldom” has guitars burning and gruff vocals, blunt force mixing with melodic gusts to increase the impact. The power charges as clean singing smokes, speed taking on greater importance, energetic thrashing making heart rates spike before a blazing ending. “The Waves, the Sky and the Pyre” starts with vocal chants and then heads straight into a murky haze, slowly dripping as the playing drives a dagger, the bass chugging muscularly. Group calls rouse as shots land through thick mist, the tempo blasting through a frosty ambiance. Closer “The Last Step” aims to end the record with blinding glory as the singing glows, following mashing howls that inject thorniness. Melodies cascade before settling into a synth cloud, setting a dream-inducing state that eventually breaks with guitars splitting through with intensity. The gates of Valhalla are stormed as the flowing guitars mount a final surge, bringing the record to a heartfelt and fire-lapped ending.

It’s impossible to experience an Ereb Altor record and not come away with your adrenaline spiking in the least problematic way possible. As usual with their work, “Hälsingemörke” is an escape, but one that’ll thrill you from beginning to end as their brand of Viking metal transports you to the ancient forests and battles that live in your mind. This is another stunner from a band whose catalog is full of them and shows no sign of the fires in their hearts extinguishing.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://erebaltor.lnk.to/halsingemorker

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

Death metal has undergone a very significant shift the past decade, the sounds expanding and creating new branches that are bound to be nurturing as the ones that fed the current era of bands. That’s kept the sub-genre not only continually breeding new artists but also keeping the sound sharp, focused, and bloody.

Danish crushers Phrenelith have been a part of that movement, circulating a few levels deeper than, say, a Tomb Mold or Blood Incantation but still doing their part to strengthen an art form that is a warped and ugly as any. On their mangling and fiery third record “Ashen Womb,” they build on the foundation they laid down over the past decade and added more muscle and sinew, as well as some inventive and nightmarish bends that jar your guts. The band—guitarist/vocalist Simon Daniel, guitarist/vocalist David, bassist Jakob, drummer Andreas Nordgreen—twists things to their will, again displaying why they deserve more credit and hopefully find those accolades on this record.

“Noemata” is a gloomy, yet battering instrumental opener, setting the stage to the fire that lies ahead, which greets us wholly on “Astral Larvae.” Vicious growls devastate while the playing could melt steel beams, turning into a infernal force that rips with violent intent and utter demolition. “A Husk Wrung Dry” trudges before it takes on speed, ugly smearing making blood and dirt combine, an Earth-crunching tempo leaving broken bodies behind. The leads menace as the playing continues to ramp up the intensity, melodies bleeding over scraping growls. “Lithopaedion” rips and slashes, growls curdling, the playing penetrating the senses and squeezing you mentally. Warped melodies hover, uniting with sooty growls, the guitars breathing fire as everything ends in rubble. “Nebulae” is eerie and darker, and even when the violence breaks through the surface, there remains a sense of strange unease. Clouds form to add splashes of gray as the drums combust, clean tones mixing in with sharp steel chaos, dissolving into a cosmic void.

“Stagnated Blood” rips open, guitars spiraling, a gutting force slicing right through midsections and spilling innards on the floor. The leads make the room spin, growls delivering disgust and filth, the storming pace continuing to devastate before merging with a haze and bleeding into “Sphageion,” a strange interlude with eerie guitar work, pattering drums, and an alien finish. “Chrysopoeia” opens with guitars fully dominating, crunching and chewing, the growls punishing as speed gains control. The playing rains down with force, melodies sprawling through throat-shredding growls, gushing melodies, and a molten end that scorches flesh. The closing title track runs 9:56 and develops a strange aura, mixing into crushing blasts, mauling growls, and a thrashy tempo that makes blood pulse. The leads entangle as the drums attack, and a clobbering flood makes waters boil, an apocalyptic scene drowning everything as the final strains slowly drain into hell.

Phrenelith slowly have been honing their death metal chops over the past decade and their previous two full-lengths, but “Ashen Womb” pushes them even further into the upper echelon. This is a lung-blowing record that has moments of strangeness and space-age darkness intertwined with sinewy death. This is a hammer blow worth sustaining, even if it leaves you mentally and physically drained well after the music ends.

For more on the band, go here: https://phrenelith.bandcamp.com/

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

Or here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/phrenelith-ashen-womb-vinyl/

For more on the label, go here: https://darkdescentrecords.bandcamp.com/

And here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/

We have plenty of people, regardless of party, to blame for the bullshit we’re enduring for the second fucking time for fuck sake. But very close to the top is turtle-face, cunt neck Mitch McConnel who is likely to stroke out at a presser before he tries to flex any geriatric muscle again. But he’s a worm of human times, and he deserves a shit-in-mouth demise.

I’m trying to do more record submissions this year, so when I got an entry on my Bluesky account, I could not say no to a band called Cocaine Mitch. Because that Mitch is … yeah. That fucking guy. If there was a real hell, Mitch would be gargling lava and poison as his turtle dick goes through a mixer. Dreamt in joking fashion but now committed forever to the digital landscape by creator Robby Grodin, these 10 tracks on “An Act of Violence,” slashes back at the system that created this situation and comically honestly. It also brutally assaults the gears that made this nightmare possible. The approach is menacing grind with a healthy injection of samples that add meaning and anger to the songs. Perfect.

“The Anti-Fascist Family Soup Kitchen” opens with a news clip about, wait for it, a police officer accused of a crime and not yet charged, and then guitar heat launches, rampaging through fiery chaos, slashing before the playing speeds away. “Cis Death Squad” starts with a piece from Rep. Zooey Zephyr (D, Montana) standing up for trans and intersex folks, and then we’re into a full-blown blaze, the playing stopping and starting to tease your heart, beastly howls breaking through and charging into devastation. “Hey Man Bad Shot,” obviously a reference to the Filter song of a similar name, pummels and terrifies, howls curdling before the pace slows and grinds gears. Guitars fire up again as the ambiance gets stranger, mind-melting wails scorching fully. “Kill Yr Rapist” features guest appearances by Sarah “Ribz” Ribeiro and Tim “Potatoes” McGrath, and this is the filthy, unforgiving piece you’d expect from the title, the command gang shouted into oblivion. “A Brick to the Face of a Forced Birther” begins with a great Roland Martin clip where he lashes against pro-birth scum who only give a fuck when an embryo is in a womb. Machine-gun blasts smother, beastly growls peeling back flesh, smashing heavily with humid power.

“A Detailed Treatise on the Many Benefits of Trickle Down Economics” is a quick interlude with noise and madness, mimicking the reality of the concept they’re sending up. Wonder when that money is going to fall to us. Hmm. “AxCxAxB” contains a sample of Sen. John Kennedy (R, Louisiana) spouting off about the “dangers” of defunding police forces, and he sounds like the pig he is, slobbering over his words. The playing is doomy and chugging, absolutely unloading as growls scar, guitars race, and chaos blaring right into the face of “The Cokening.” That features Pomme Fritz and has beats clobbering, weird noises making your brain boil, and warped lines from McConnell, sounding like the froze at another presser, warbling bizarre thoughts. “(I’m Going) Democrazy” explodes, guitars lathering, the pace chugging, and howls battering you thoroughly. The heat takes over and drives the force into the ground, bleeding out into the dirt. Closer “Cocaine 77” is the weirdest, most fucked-up take on Eric “Asshole” Clapton’s hit, splattering with cartoon horrors, goo dripping from Mitch’s flesh lap of a neck, and the final blows dealt against a substandard enemy.

Cocaine Mitch is so terrifyingly well timed, it’s almost scary. Though I think we all knew the miasma of hell we were headed into it after the damned 2024 election, and this collection of songs hits on just about every inhuman and despicable thing going on right now. Grodin has a stranglehold on mockery, fury, and revenge, three actions we’ll need an abundance of going forward if we want to get through. Plus the songs rip, and the cover is fucking hilarious, and fuck Mitch McConnell and all the bullshit he enabled. Drink piss, loser.

For more on the band, go here: https://cocainemitch.bandcamp.com/album/an-act-of-violence

To buy the album, go here: https://www.haulofhorror.com/products/cocaine-mitch-an-act-of-violence-digipack-pre-order

Living in a body can be a strange experience. Essentially, we’re locked inside shells as our minds and essences develop, and it can be a struggle to be OK with these meats suits and what they look like. Living in our society doesn’t make this any easier as pressure is applied hard on how we’re expected to look. Social  media turned that into a world-engulfing blaze.

Venomous Echoes is a black/death metal force helped by sole creator Ben Vanweelden, and over the course of this project, he has examined issues of body dysmorphia and horrors. On his third album “Dysmor,” there is sweeping, dramatic chaos dripped over these six tracks and 46 minutes, and the mental pressures and devastation are layered thick, which makes sense. I also suffer from body dysmorphia, and the connections I was able to make psychologically and even physically is brutal yet kind of healing. This record continues the plot of its two predecessors, and this time the protagonist is exposed to horrific images and visons, things that must be overcome to reach the world of Malcloid.

“Wall of Memories and Despair” dawns in a cacophony of sounds and sax slashing, doomy fury trudging through mean, monstrous territory that bends your nerves. Raw fury mixes with jazzy guitar lines, howls crumbing as a cosmic edge slices through, shrieks maiming and leaving mental damage. The title track crushes right off the bat, guitars bending and spiraling, smearing into woozy terrain where you feel like you’re losing touch. Guitars lather as eeriness blends into a time warp, death snarls, and increasing weirdness ends in echo. “Groped by Spectres” has guitars dashing and wrapping around corners, leads damaging minds, savagery crashing into mechanical hell and tortured wails. Tricky leads turn the screws, with the shrieks sickening as sounds hover and escape.

“Broken” has keys falling, strange melodies icing wounds, and then suddenly you’re buried in molten thickness. The playing stomps, a total maniacal fury that has no mercy, howls pouring devastation in generous quantities, piano fluttering, darkness dancing over volcanic ash. “Defeated and Withered Creation” has the guitars catching on fire instantly, punishing with speed and mangled steel, your brain tingling from the wild blast of zany death. Howls hiss as the room feels like it’s spinning dangerously, mashing as sounds zap, chugging through synth heat. Closer “The Begetter” runs 12:06, sax sliding in, a chilling front floating and making you shiver, the brutality finally served in hulking manner. The guitars cut as the howls slice into bone, the pace chugging as sooty, viscous streams flow, sickened screams leading way to inconsolable sobbing. Guitars blare anew as the tempo charges, a synth fog envelopes, keys dripping into oblivion.

Pain and trauma, especially as it relates to our bodies, can drive one to the edges of sanity, and Venomous Echoes punch into those uncomfortable areas. “Dysmor” delves into those dark corners where you try to process what you’re feeling, and sometimes that’s enough to slip further underneath. For Vanweelden, it’s looking into the Malcloid to fight to a better means of existence that doesn’t constantly gnaw at your brain.

For more on the band, go here: https://venomousechoes.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album U.S.), go here: https://metalodyssey.8merch.us/

Or here (Europe): https://metalodyssey.8merch.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/

I feel like this could be a boilerplate introduction for this site, but things have been dark and stormy for a lot of us for a long time. And it doesn’t appear to show signs of stopping. In what’s alleged to be the greatest country in the world, things are so unbalanced that people are at the end of their rope, and there is bloodshed the world over.

Digging into “Recover What You Can,” the third record from Pittsburgh brawlers Negative 13, and you can tell they’ve lived it too. The band’s brand of doom, hardcore, and metal is a force to behold live, and on this album, they translate that feeling as effectively as they ever have. Over six tracks and 33 minutes, the band—vocalist Scott Fisher, guitarist Edward Banchs, bassist Mary Bielich (Derketa, ex-Mythic), drummer Chip Reynolds—unloads both sonically and emotionally. The pain and suffering, the confusion and anger are all over this thing, and you can feel the gritty gears tearing into your psyche, identifying your struggle, and also hopefully showing you a way to climb out.

“The Desolate” is a strange, doomy, cloudy intro cut, setting the dark tones and sprawling into “Casket Trail” that immediately lands punches. The aura is mucky, Fisher’s howls encircling, the intensifying smoke making your vision strangely compromised. Riffs snarl as the pace begins to gallop harder, punishing as growls smack, and relentless chugging leaves deep muscle bruising. “The Vulture Circles” surges with guitars glistening and teasing, the words spat as the bass playing flexes its muscle, Fisher’s wail of, “Set me free!” rippling down your spine. “See my life melt away, but I’m not ready to leave,” Fisher declares, the playing piling on hardcore-style intensity, the final cry of “Pick yourself up!” resonating and disappearing into murk.

“Horizon Divides” has blurry playing that works into muscular jarring, the temps dropping as Fisher’s singing layers with emotion. “I have this constant feeling like I’ve been here before,” he laments, as the moodiness clashes with a ripping pace that knifes into the center, feeling beastly and slashing as is melts way. “Devil In Your Head” is charged up and jerky, talk singing adding to the abrasive nature, and then some speed that teams with a psychedelic wash. The playing begins to gut, growing more violent and disruptive, yells echoing as the ambiance feels like Neurosis’ early years, Fisher lashing, “You don’t really know me!” The closing title track is faster out of the gates, howls echoing, a gazey heat thickening and making breather tougher. A hypnotic force washes over the cut, the vocals stretching over that, the title howled deep from the gut. The pace continues to elevate, steam rising as if from a scalding hot bath, blazing out into steam.

It’s a rough time out there for a lot of people, and Negative 13 seem to capture that tug of war of emotions on “Recover What You Can.” Everything packed into these six songs come front loaded with emotion and grit, seeing your misery and struggle and responding with music that can accompany you into your mental battles. Or, if you’re just here to get crushed, you have more than enough to leave you bruised for weeks on end.

For more on the band, go here: https://negative13.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://negative13.bandcamp.com/album/recover-what-you-can