If you’ve ever seen an ocean, and it’s not unreasonable that someone reading hasn’t, you know the incredible force standing in front of you is insurmountable. There are sections of ocean unexplored, cloaked in blackness with creatures potentially lurking that we cannot fathom. It can be a terrifying thought when you realize how tiny you are in comparison.

Swiss black metal phantoms Schammasch clearly understand the power and might, and they once again transfer that to their weighty, yet mind-numbing creations on “The Maldoror Chants: Old Ocean.” This, their fifth full-length, actually is a direct descendant of their 2017 EP “The Maldoror Chants: Hermaphrodite” as it also references Les Chants de Maldoror, written by Comte de Lautréamont and released in the late 1860s. I would explain my understanding of this text, but no one wants to hear me ramble on and try to make sense of the themes and story involved. Google, man. Anyway, the band—vocalist/guitarist C.S.R, guitarists M.A and J.B, bassist P.D, drummer B.A.W—pays great homage to the ocean, realizing the gulf of difference in size between that body of water and any singular human, and deepening the mystery of what lurks in its miles and miles of total darkness.

“Crystal Waves” is the 13:37-long opener and longest track on the record, and it begins clean, waves crashing, the aura building slowly and suspensefully. C.S.R. recites his words, and then the singing lands and swoops deep into dark valleys. The playing trickles as the howls take off heads, punches thrown as the madness snarls in the air. The drama finally calms, waters washing over again, and then the playing wrenches all over, the drums rumbling as the tempo plasters, melodies crashing to the shore. “A Somber Mystery” is a quick instrumental that swims well below the surface, eeriness at every push through the inky black, classic guitars prodding and spilling into “Your Waters Are Bitter” that has guitars pushing and pulling, screams rippling through your nervous system. The playing is savagely fluid, the singing fluttering and entering into a driving hellscape, channeled rage punishing the earth. The vocals bellow, then turning into static-rich wails, the pace picking up dangerously as drums clobber, the shrieks tearing down dimensions. Guitars chug as cataclysmic visions tunnel, colors rushing and fading.

“They Have Found Their Master” starts in deliberate fashion, guitars simmering and gaining heat, tornadic pressure making its way in, C.S.R. howling, “You cannot enter here, to know your place and accept your lot.” The vocals turn to cold singing, but the punishment increases, the cry of, “Old ocean, you are so powerful that men have learned this to their own cost,” sending chills, lava pooling beneath the waters. Kathrine Shepard (Sylvaine) lends her powerful voice, adding drama and majesty, everything dissolving. “Image of the Infinite” basks in clean echoes, singing floating, spoken lines swimming in the haze, haunting visions leading to 10:51-long closer “I Hail You, Old Ocean” that begins super charged. Singing drives as the pace rips everything apart, crazed howls rampaging, feeling slightly raspy and venomous. The tempo is furious and spirited, fluid leads driving through the veins, the melodies bubbling over the rim. Singing warbles as the pace storms and spirals, swelling calls shivering, a symphonic burst bringing the end.

Schammasch’s tribute to the great oceans is the cinematic, thunderous statement you expect from this band, and it’s impossible to walk away and not feel in awe. “The Maldoror Chants: Old Ocean” not only does well by its source material, it also embodies the vastness of great bodies of water, a force that always will dwarf humankind. This is music for a great exploration in your mind, something that can add power and glory to your dreams of entering places never explored before.

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

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

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

The universe is massive and terrifying, and we have no idea what’s really out there. Think of all the monsters and beasts you’ve dreamt in your mind. How do you know something like that doesn’t exist somewhere beyond our world, waiting to strike? Those possibilities have informed heavy metal, and it’s made our imaginations more deranged.

There are few bands as responsible as Gigan for conjuring mind-altering visions in their brand of death metal. For the past 12 years, this force has delivered five full-length albums, the latest being “Anomalous Abstractigate Infinitessimus,” that delve into the horrors of the cosmos, but in a way that’s as fascinating as it is brutal. On this new album, the band—mastermind/multi-instrumentalist Eric Hersemann, vocalist Jerry Kavouriaris, drummer Nathan Cotton—pours 47 minutes of space horror death metal over eight tracks that continually whisk you to other places and immediately terrify you with that you see and hear. Yet, in the end, you’ll have had an adventure that will capture your mind.

“Trans-Dimensional Crossing of the Alta-Tenuis” opens in total darkness, a stirring atmosphere greeting chugging guitars that crush worlds. The monstrous pace explodes into spacey leads, the soloing going off toward the outer rim. Growls engorge as the playing explodes, and then we’re on to “Ultra-Violet Shimmer and Permeating Infra-sound” that’s a bettering ram at the start. A strange aura floats as guitars tease, bizarre streaks disarming, the playing spiraling and reverberating toward a disruptive end. “Square Wave Subversion” opens with trampling guitars and zany playing, the growls menacing as the roars explode. Guitars leave the surface and begin a deep exploration, weird zaps making your brain surge, the jolts removing guts. “Emerging Sects of Dagonic Acolytes” flattens the mind with disarming sounds landing, the steam rising from a developing miasma. Alien-drenched growls slither, a cosmic stretch making the search for oxygen nearly pointless, going into a trampling assault that sizzles closed with fire.

“Katabatic Windswept Landscapes” opens with spiraling guitars, snaking and boiling in the guts of the universe, howls crushing every being along the way. A spacey sheen drips silver as destructive energy lands body blows, guitars peel off, and the landing is fiery and violent. “Erratic Pulsitivity and Horror” barrels through, the pace pummeling and tearing, growls ripping a hole in time. The playing engorges, drama dashing and terrifying, a menacing and beastly power rising and driving to a manic finish. “The Strange Harvest of the Baganoids” have the guitars instantly going into psychedelic terrain, blistering as the growls grab your throat and squeeze, the melodies digging in and pushing past other worlds. The playing ruptures and chews terrain, the space buzz returning to the death growls, a strange haze rising and crash landing. Closer “Ominous Silhouettes Cast Across Gulfs of Time” spews down-tuned madness, sounds boiling and creating a cosmic corrosion, heat rising from the surface. A metallic gust melts into a sound wash, intergalactic beams bringing grim death, shrieks destroying as the ungodly heaviness increases pressure and warps gravity.

Gigan’s death metal universe is both self-contained and exploding over into our own world, which is why it’s always exciting and a little unsettling when they dream up new material. “Anomalous Abstractigate Infinitessimus” is a mouthful to say and another bizarre journey to experience, and all the while you’ll be battered senseless. Even as cosmic death metal morphs into something new, this band reminds of when this style was more brutal and fantastical, something to which Gigan always commit fully.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.willowtip.com/bands/details/gigan.aspx

For more on the label, go here: https://www.willowtip.com/home.aspx

There are few things as satisfying as straight-up, honest death metal that’s only here to grind you into a pulp. It’s how things were when the sound got started some 30-plus years ago, and as we all know, things have expanded and shapeshifted over time. Still, finding something that’s here to serve a proper beating remains a good time when done right.

“Suffer as One” is the debut full-length from death metal power Living Gate, and despite its members boasting credits in other noteworthy bands such as YOB, Amenra, Oathbreaker, and Wiegedood, this record is a full-on beating. Comprised of vocalist/guitarist Levy Seynaeve, guitarist Lennart Bossu, bassist Aaron Rieseberg, drummer Wim Coppers, this group is here to deliver late 1990s-style death metal that aims to reign supreme, dominating with brutality and tenacity that makes it feel like you went several rounds in a cage fight. Sure, the imaginative material that pushes boundaries is fun too, but sometimes you need a nice dose of the guttural stuff.

“To Cut Off the Head of the Snake” rips, mauling growls leading the way, the guitars snaking through rivers of muck. Ugliness thickens as Seynaeve wails, “I am the offering, I am the sacrifice,” as the lumbering madness comes to a crushing end. “Internal Decomposition” mashes, the guitars clashing, even glimmering in spots, deep growls engorging as the bass envelopes. Screams curdle as the playing alters minds, burning in psychedelic heat. “Destroy and Consume” opens with the drums smashing, the plastering playing drawing blood as growls lurch, the battering moving into dangerous heat. The chorus is simple but effective, leads clouding our mind before an abrupt end. “A Unified Soul” has wrenching guitars and punishing howls, thrashing punishment dealt in generous helpings. The atmosphere stretches as the heat brings everything to a boil, shimmering notes dripping in horror. “Massive Depletion in Eb Minor” is a quick interlude with the bass tracing patterns, guitars echoing, a transformative void slipping into the title track where riffs slice through veins. The guitars maul as the force becomes a greater factor, a shredding force working into a disarming calm. Eerie melodies leak out of every crevice, the guitars giving off strange light beams before fading.

“Ones and Zeroes” opens with gasping growls and a bludgeoning force that lays waste. A menacing fury builds as unforgiving growls bury your face in soot, the guitars later going spacey and atmospheric, turning to brutality again for a mashing end. “Hunting Maggots” is a gross idea, and the band explodes into infernal hell, the tempo buckling and punishing, the playing finding a new violent gear. Fluid leads give off a classic death metal feel, and the final moments spit blood and bone. “Atoms and Particles” is sudden and furious, growls punching holes in chests, the pace igniting and delivering a steady diet of speed. Whispery passages send chills before animalistic playing does ample damage, Seynaeve howling, “Abandon all hope!” “Overcome, Overthrow” attacks, meaty growls leaving bruising, thrashy devastation creating a virtual war zone. The vocals change off from shrieks to growls and back, and then a battering force destroys, ungodly destruction meted out generously. Closer “CQC” gurgles with bloody growls, driving death makes safety unattainable, and melodies swim through murk to add some color to the carnage. Leads sprawl as stench and steam arise, a clip of Charles Bukowski taking us out with, “So, I have very little fear of death. I almost welcome it.”

Living Gate deliver old-school, ramming death metal that has little need or use for polish and exists simply to let brutality stab a new path. “Suffer as One” is a tried-and-true exercise in the most unforgiving, filthy version of death, the kind that makes you feel like cobwebs are plastered to your face and that skullduggery is near. It’s a blast from the past into a volatile future, one Living Gate seem only too happy to douse with their own blood.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/LivingGate666/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/pages/living-gate-suffer-as-one

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

When I was a child, I got an infection in my hip that skyrocketed my body temperature and made me hallucinate. One of them that I can remember is seeing what was in front of me and having everything divide into four squares and change placement, arranging themselves randomly. Your brain can do unsettling things when you’re not well.

Australian death/black metal beasts Ploughshare delve into similar territory (well, sort of) on their explosive third full-length “Second Wound,” a weighty slab that takes some patience and imagination to fully indulge. For these songs, the nameless mystery of a quartet use as an inspiration the 14^th century creation Revelations of Divine Love by Julian of Norwich that is a Christian devotion inspired by visions she experienced when deathly ill in 1373. It’s a portrait of what she interpreted as levels of Christ’s love that she absorbed while not in her right mind, and the band adds a ghoulish, doomy, destructive edge to these texts. It’s a record that weighs down on you, forcing you to feel every moment like your feverish body is on the verge of collapse.

“Thorns Pressed Into His Head” is faster and more urgent, scorching and trampling as trauma guts completely. The bass curls as the vocals strangle, the playing worming into oblivion, savagery unwinding as devastation peaks, disappearing into the stars. “The Mockery of the Demons” brings burning guitars and quivering bass, the playing disorienting, fiery cries hurtling into the sun. Chaos spills over as madness ensues, panicked sounds turning back toward the storm, sounds droning into the earth. Howls echo as the bass bubbles, melting into discordance, cosmic winds chilling flesh. Closer “So Reverend and Dreadful” rips open, confounding as the playing dashes and scars, the crazed vocals going for the throat. Humidity thickens as sounds float on darkened clouds, a hypnotic fury torching flesh. The playing cools as noise penetrates, mind-altering passages fading into miasmal woes.

“The Fall of All Creatures” opens in dissonance and then roars, guitars angling as a wild push makes your brain send mixed signals. The bass bends as the speed becomes a bigger factor, smashing through a haze, the guitars tingling as the force continues to knife through to the vital organs. Manic cries ripple, a beastly rise consumes flesh, and sounds echo before evaporation. “Desired Second Wound” opens with the bass creeping through eeriness, guitars icing as howls rip, unleashing a numbing pace that makes it feel like you’re spiraling into a dream world. The pace dizzies as the band storms into progressive waters, howls destroying as the tempo reached tornadic force, storming until an icy front takes over. Sounds hang in the air as a strange aura simmers, the playing rumbling into a vortex that consumes whole.

The bizarre pressure and disarming messaging Ploughshare pack into “Second Wound” might date back to source material centuries old, but these themes and ideas still exist today. The reaching out to something beyond ourselves in states is extreme discomfort might reek of hallucination, but there are people who buy into it very deeply. This music is a reminder and visitation, a deep journey into the middle of a psychosis that often can’t be cracked and maybe even understood.

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

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

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

Or here: https://brilliantemperor.bandcamp.com/album/second-wound

For more on the label, go here: https://www.facebook.com/i.voidhanger.records/

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

None of us are the same people we were last year at this time. Now, stretch that idea over years, decades, and think about the growth and progression we (hopefully) have made. We are made up of parts of our past and what we’ve picked up over time, and our bodies change and regenerate over the years, further transforming what makes us whole.

We haven’t heard from doom/sludge bruisers Fórn since 2018’s “Rites of Despair,” and in that time since, we’ve gone through a lot as people and a world. It’s clear its members—vocalist Chris Pinto, guitarist/electronics master Joey Gonzalez, guitarist Danny Boyd, bassist Brian Barbaruolo, vocalist/synth player Lane Shi Otayonii (of Elizabeth Colour Wheel who now joins the lineup), drummer Andrew Nault (Josh Brettell played drums on the record)—also have developed into new forms as you can hear on their great new record “Repercussions of the Self.” Their sludge foundation remains, but built on top of it are more electronic influences (Gonzalez cites Massive Attack, Portishead, Nine Inch Nails, Trent Reznor/Atticus Ross as further inspiration), as well as Otayonii’s added touches that make this band a more formidable and varied creature. This record is much different from what you’ve heard of them from the past, but it’s a natural, thrilling progression that proves this band always was capable of so much more.

“Pact of Forgetting” is a mechanical nightmare, Pinto’s voice warbling as the playing crunches slowly, synth swirling as dreams come in greyscale. The playing then pounds away, fog enveloping as a deliberate pace leaks into shadows. “Soul Shadow” instantly enters into a deathly doom pall, growls buried in a melodic miasma. Otayonii’s singing becomes an early factor, adding a chilling edge, the sounds stretching and contorting, growls adding a gritty edge. The playing turns burly and spacious, trudging into waters with cold and warm edges, the electricity exploding, leads exploding into oblivion. “Hela’s Choir” dawns in static, beats echoing, hazy guitars leaning into anguishes calls. Otayonii’s wordless cries set your mind at ease and spark cortisol flow, surging into hypnosis before folding into time.

“Anamnesis” brings churning guitars, thick fog emerging from crevices, beats clashing and echoing in your ears. Sounds scuff and sooty doom thickens, electro beats bouncing off walls, heat rising off the top of this instrumental. “Regrets Abyss” starts clean before an elegant burst, growls menacing as the guitars pick up and eat through muscle, working into a haze that blankets the sky. Sounds churn as melodies get brighter, the guitars building and glimmering, roars mauling, blazing to a scathing finish. Closer “Dreams of the Blood” haunts, a smoky essence unfolding, voices warbling before growls sink teeth into flesh. The playing lathers with heat, leads wandering into hypnosis, dissolving into a humid night. Otayonii’s calls feel like a message from a dream, and then the playing explodes, going faster than ever as growls maul, acidic passages eat through bone, and gazey drama peaks and then cascades, disappearing into oblivion.

Change and progress are good, fruitful things whether it applies to our own lives or the music Fórn have created the past decade. “Repercussions of the Self” shows a band with a renewed focus and a sound that is developing more in what reflects their creative visions, and this record helps them break past pure sludge metal without losing an ounce of their impact. This is an exciting new chapter for this band, one that could find them shape-shifting even further into a more dexterous, dangerous beast.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://persistentvisionrecords.com/products/forn-repercussions-of-the-self

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

I grew up in an era when heavy metal as a basic concept was feared. I can laugh at it now, and I’m sure if I said that directly to younger listeners, they’d roll their eyes because there are so many things legitimately more frightening than this style of music. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t band that are utterly terrifying that scorch you to your nuts and bolts.

Fun story: The first time I ever heard Black Curse I was on my way to a root canal appointment way out of town at the beginning of the lockdown because it was the only dentist office that would see me. I absorbed their 2020 debut “Endless Wound” on that trip and during the procedure, and it fried my brains. No nitrous oxide either! Fast forward four years and the band—vocalist/guitarist Eli Wendler, guitarist Jonathan Campos, bassist Morris Kolontyrsky, drummer Antinom—who also dot lineups including Blood Incantation, Khemmis, Spectral Voice, and Primitive Man, is back with “Burning With Celestial Poison,” a five-track, 45-minute destroyer that is heavier and hungrier than their debut and overflowing with torturous madness that will eat away at your brain. Seriously.

“Spleen Girt With Serpent” opens the record and runs a healthy 10:51, firing up and ripping right through your mid-section. Molten chaos unfurls as a cacophony of chaos emerges, making it feel like your brain is oozing black goo, yes, just like Papa Shango used to conjure. Ugh, WWF, early ’90s. From there, the fires engulf fully, gargantuan pounding doing the bidding as lava rages, and you do your best to avoid knife swipes in the dark. The drums echo as regal blackness unfurls, the howls warping as a vicious wave pulls everything under. “Trodden Flesh” is the longest track, weighing in at 11:47, and it’s eerie at first before guts are stomped, shrieks scarring as the pace pulls back just a bit to let the bruising sink in. The next wave burns you to a crisp, a wild explosion of violent insanity dominating, the band thrashing with merciless intent, pulling guts from mouths, absolutely enforcing its will, the guitars catching fire yet again and burning into oblivion.

“Ruinous Paths…” stampedes, the drums rampaging, guitars racing and keeping pace expertly. That all combusts into violence, glorious savagery having its way with your psyche, howls battering along the way. The playing gets dizzying, which is understandable as the room surely is spinning, and then the drums turn rock to dust, the decimation becoming a manic burst right into “… to Babylon” that strangles with black filth. It’s a total blackout, your mind being bombarded with relentless sound and fury, inhuman screams lathering with psychotic breaks, the playing pounding without a hint of mercy until its frosty finish. “Flowers of Gethsemane” closes this monster, an 11:09-long demon that ramps up the anxiety before a blazing front devours serenity whole, bursting and brutalizing with no hopes of a breath. The vocals engorge as the tempo swallows you whole, gutting as the gas pedal is jammed through the floor, the playing shredding any sense of psychological well-being you have left. From there, the playing causes a temporary deep freeze, but a raucous onslaught ends all of that, opening the flood gates for an acidic last push that mains.

“Burning in Celestial Poison” is a diseased beast striking at your throat in complete delirium. You don’t know what’s happening; the animal is sick. Black Curse is not an easy entity to confront, and doing so only is recommended if you fully understand what’s in front of you as you encounter this force. Yeah, it’s a metal record. But it’s much more than that, and entering its terrain unprepared will leave you ravaged beyond your comprehension.

For more on the band, go here: https://blackcurse-svr.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://www.sepulchralvoice.de/shop/

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

It’s never not intimidating to look into the night sky, see the ocean of stars (that is when the haze of pollution isn’t obscuring such majesty), and wonder about the history that unfurled as that light made its way to be visible on our earth. It’s easy to feel microscopic as a result, our own existence paling in comparison, our life cycles over in a blink of the void’s eye.

Colorado-based doom dreamers Oryx also stand in front of that chasm of space and contemplate life, death, and what’s in between on their engulfing new record “Primordial Sky.” This is the band’s fifth album and one of their most realized, playing atmospheric doom over four mammoth tracks and 41 minutes that easily ignite every cell in your body. While the music is heavy and devastating, there is catharsis buried into each corner as the band—vocalist/guitarist/synth player Thomas Davis, bassist Joshua Kauffman, drummer Abigail Davis—does musical and mental contemplation, stretching beyond this world and into the stars, appreciating the majesty and might of what lies beyond and within ourselves.

The title track opens amid sounds burning in the atmosphere, doomy fire unleashed as the growls rumble through the earth, at times trading off with shredding shrieks. Haze thickens and hangs overhead as the tones darken, letting the barometric pressure strengthen as leads char before everything blooms in full again. An emotional surge pushes forward, gushing with heartfelt fire, the howls crushing as burly waves encompass everything. “Myopic” is engulfed in total blackness, and then the low end comes to life, shaking your guts, the growls smoking as grim reality takes control. The pace pummels and leaves bones aching, and then an acoustic passage washes over, adding a respite before the shrieks drive anew, every element unloading in full. The power floods as the battering spills blood downward, guitars glowing before turning into embers. 

“Ephemeral” opens delicately, softer guitars creating a pathway, and then the heaviness clogs veins, growls retching as the remaining sunlight is strangled, dirty, yet fluid melodies bubbling to the surface. The drums then hit even harder, a gutting pace laying waste, screams coming unglued and torching prone flesh. The corrosion doubles as a bruising beating is served, screams rippling before a vicious end. “Look Upon the Earth” is the closer, opening in deep space before the crunch hits terrestrial terrain, punches landing even as stardust continues to fall from the sky. The guitars thrust and accelerate the heat, sizzling through a thrashy wasteland, battering chaos seeking willing victims. The tempo explodes, spitting magma as the guitars dazzle, moving into a penetrating fog, slowly squeezing through wormholes and back into space.

As we make our way through life’s journey, contemplating where we stand and what impact we make to the universe is only natural, and “Primordial Sky” is the musical equivalent of that venture. Oryx make efficient use of their time, and even amid the longform doom template, they never waste a moment and make everything feel impactful. This is the most intense step on their journey so far, and spending time with this record can provide both a physical shakeup and a psychological mind storm all within the same dynamic experience. 

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

To buy the album, go here: https://translationloss.com/collections/oryx

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

There are those who believe the current time in which we all live is merely a single line in many layers of existence that occur on numerous planes and throughout the universe. Who’s to say they’re wrong? We’re connected to so many realities on just this level, and our dreams and déjà vu moments have to come from somewhere, right? Are there more versions of us somewhere else with whom we’re wired?

If Dødheimsgard exists alongside of us here on earth, Doedsmaghird would be their twin on another timeline, creating strange, avant-garde black metal informed by electronics. Except, both bands live alongside us, as Doedsmaghird contains two members of Dødheimsgard—vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Yusaf “Vicotnik” Parvez, guitarist Camille Giradeau—and this project’s debut record “Omniverse Consciousness” explores similar cosmic corners but goes at it a little differently. This duo delves more into their main band’s past, more of what they created around the turn of the century, and what we hear on this nine-track record brings some industrial nostalgia with a daring rocket into the future.

“Heart of Hell” begins spaciously, sound exhaust wafting as synth bubbles and the growls curdle. The intensity continues to build as beats crackle and howls pile up, the weirdness getting chaotic as it swims through electro pulses. New Wavey warmth boils as sounds rattle, wordless calls chilling to the bone. “Sparker Inn Apne Dorer” is manic, speak-sing words leaving shatter marks, chants dashing as the playing blisters. Unsettling yelps meet with warbling samples, the punishing playing becoming a greater factor, spacey grains disappearing into a vacuum. “Then, to Darkness Return” attacks with black metal fury, folding into the psychosis, the vocals mangling veins. The words then strangle, commanding and marching as this brief track ends suddenly. “Endless Distance” meanders purposely through clouds, punching its way out as thick singing sets layers, the synth jarring before settling in black breezes. Howls wrench as the ugliness melts into the shadows, the playing stirring as jazzy keys cool before a burst of heats melts metal and brings a beastly end. “Endeavour” is an alluring interlude built with glistening and frosty keys, liturgical vocals, building a perfect entrance into the second half.

“Death of Time” explodes, smoke choking as the music stirs, howls leading the violent drive. Keys lap as the mists thicken, the singing icing the blood in your veins. Things gets kind of zany, sounds looping through animalistic growls, spiraling playing, and a whirling end. “Min Tid Er Omme” is trippy and punchy, keys zapping past the stars, driving through alien pulses you can feel in your organs. The playing burns harder and more savagely, keys reflecting surrounding lights, the mechanical arms twisting and warping steel, bouncy notes disappearing behind the moon. “Adrift Into Collapse” blazes right away, beats shattering, the playing storming as the growls crumble. The pace gets faster as the atmosphere turns hypnotic, going into a tornadic push that meets with warping screams and melodies doubling over. Synth strings add regality as a cinematic sound scape sends everything into closer “Requiem Transiens,” a quick outro with thick keys, fluttering singing, and bizarre winds causing freezing permanence.

On a record that plays with cosmic mysteries and parallel existences, Doedsmaghird feels like the spiritual version of current Dødheimsgard, bringing more of the electronic madness back to the forefront. “Omniverse Consciousness” is an ambitious, pulsating record that puts more industrial and mechanical bits back into black metal in a heavier dose. It might take some time for it to sink in its hooks, but once that happens, this record becomes a starting point for exploring the strangest ideas in your mind.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://usa-peaceville.myshopify.com/collections/doedsmaghird

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

We try to avoid hyperbole when we can, but it’s hard to do that sometimes as a writer who’s trying to describe music you likely haven’t heard yet, at least not in full. There are a lot of really good records that come out each week, and we try to get to all the ones we liked. But you get a really special one only now and again. A world-altering record is something I can remember a handful or so times the last decade, and today is one of those.

Yes, there’s a lot of hype and anticipation any time cosmic death metal band Blood Incantation does anything, and for good reason. The arrival of their third full-length album “Absolute Elsewhere” brings with it nervous anticipation of what exactly this thing would be. Last time we heard from the band—vocalist/guitarist Paul Riedl, guitarist Morris Kolontyrsky, fretless bassist Jeff Barrett, drummer Isaac Faulk—it was “Timewave Zero,” their ambient EP that wasn’t really a surprise but definitely led some to wonder where death metal stood in their universe. Turns out it’s still right in the fucking center, though there are plenty of passages that prove “Zero” wasn’t a lark, as they expertly combine the two worlds and create the most magnificent thing in their catalog. This is a record that, once it’s available to you, should be appointment listening, preferably in the black of night, on headphone or turntable (or both) so you can disappear into this landmark moment.

“The Stargate” is the opening track, running 20:20 and spread over three tablets. The first opens in a whir, a propulsive rush that tears apart and mangles its way to the stars. The playing is vicious and channeled, simmering into a synth haze that feels like it transports you five decades into the past, a heavy Floyd-esque excursion that is a tenet that returns often. “All life is temporary unless its consciousness,” Riedl howls, the leads smearing slow-falling ash that washes into the second tablet that simmers in the great beyond. It feels like oranges and purples are sinking into your psyche, shadowy sequences dashing past places undiscovered by humans, the playing picking up and getting more metallic. Guitars melt steel, crushing through a synth tidal wave, wrecking into the third tablet that stabs and illuminates. The battery spreads as glorious leads beam, voices warble, and the drumming decimates, a Middle Easten vibe tingling brain wrinkles. Trancey clean singing changes the temperature, howls returning to wrench muscles, the guitars catching fire and spiraling into a sound warp, dissolving into a black hole.

“The Message” runs 23:23, also divided into a triad of tablets, entering with catchy guitar work that feels strangely inviting. The fluidity multiplies as the playing grows more forceful, howls battering as a beastly explosion pulls at eyes. The tempo hulks, the leads diving and shimmering, raging into the second portion where sci-fi keys envelop like a sea of galactic matter. Clean singing again adds a different texture, and a welcome one, Weidel calling, “Can’t you hear them? The voices calling your name?” as it feels like the alien grandson of “Dark Side of the Moon.” The keys continue to ice the trails, the vocals continuing a smooth pathway, hypnotic visions taking over your dreams as you head into final third of this piece that rampages and destroys at dawn. Guitars crush as death howls turn maniacal, later evening out, singing that borders on folk easing fears, mellotron flutes breezing through your hair. The serenity is short lived as brutality returns and pummels to the point of decay, spilling through sieves of extraterrestrial keys, a slow fade beginning to take hold, the sounds hovering like a quiet storm as thunder melts into the clouds.

“Absolute Elsewhere” arrives amid a galaxy of expectations as Blood Incantation have become the flag bearers of the cosmic death metal movement, and they could not have been more up to the task of building onto their modern legend. It’s the best heavy metal record, from a pure artistic standpoint, that I’ve heard all year and one of the most impactful and soon-to-be-influential creations in the past decade. It’s an album that takes you into the deepest regions of the galaxy and into your own mind as you stretch beyond recognition what you thought was possible with heavy music.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://centurymedia.store/collections/blood-incantation

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

From what I understand, there are people who don’t wake up filled with existential dread, just waiting for the world to melt into an ash pit. Those have to be the people so consumed with their own wealth that they don’t care because doing so is bad for their earnings. Fuck those people forever, and our backs are against the wall because of these blood suckers.

Oklahoma City-based bruisers Chat Pile already have made a name for themselves for their down-tuned, sludgy sound, and on their second record “Cool World” (yes, it shares a name with the 1992 film starring human shit pile Brad Pitt), they add more filth and grit to the mix on these 10 tracks. You won’t be surprised to learn things have not gotten rosier since their great debut “God’s Country,” and here the band—vocalist Raygun Busch, guitarist Luther Manhole, bassist Stin, drummer Cap’n Ron—digs into the increasing nightmare that has enveloped this country and the world from our environment actively sold for parts and fascist assholes being a little too horny for power. It’s horror that we’ve seen before our eyes, the band violently reminding us that the dark skies are permanent, and trying to find silver linings is a fool’s mission.

“I Am Dog Now” bathes in synth, and then things turn chunky and blunt, Busch wailing the title over and over before yelling, “And you see nothing!” Guitars stab as your brain spins in its skull case, Busch pushing back, “Remember, everyone bleeds.” “Shame” has a grungy feel, something that is a sort of musical theme on this record, Busch’s talk singing jabbing like a pencil point. Suddenly, growls gurgle, later turning into numbing singing, a darker tempo forming and clobbering, scathing weirdness ending in static interference. “Frownland” has the bass driving aggressively, guitars chilling as the howls mangle and bring you to your knees. Things turn unhinged, the playing clubbing and numbing, tingling and battering, letting you bleed out. “Funny Man” bruises, and the guitars gets warped though remain strangely melodic, Busch wailing, “Outside there’s no mercy.” Riffs snake as the playing digs into a filthy, low-tuned drubbing, the title repeated maniacally as the jolts bury you in a pool of your own saliva. “Camcorder” is punchy and guttural, making you feel the rhythmic gusts in your belly, sober speak-singing building the plot. “I can feel it all,” Busch repeats, a steamy and calculated tempo rupturing, unraveling into a thick mist.

“Tape” bathes in clean guitars before howls and dreary singing mix, an overcast feeling creating unease. “It was the worst I ever saw,” Busch continues to warble, making the panic rise into your throat. Guitars cut through as the vocals slur and then combust, carving away at flesh before melting down. “The New World” dawns in a disarming haze, and then the playing gets speedy, the vocals spitting out rusty nails, zany guitar lines bringing further disorientation. The pace then clobbers as the band thrashes with reckless abandon, vicious screams ripple, and the final moments are crazed yet channeled. “Masc” starts with the drums spattering, more grungy energy creating electrical burns, Busch howling, “I trust and bleed.” The playing gets murkier and then clobbering, Busch continuing to repeat the previous mantra like a mad man, the band mashing digits to the end. “Milk of Human Kindness” slinks in, trickling and slowly pooling, the singing easing you into the picture, and you’re forgiven if you don’t trust the path. Troubling wails scathe, the bass plods with gravitational pressure, and then screams rip, the guitars liquifying and draining. Closer “No Way Out” has the bass thumping, unhinged cries loosening joints, the guitars glazing and blurring eyes. “Feed them lies!” Busch demands before warning, “No escape,” as the playing gets both spacious and thorny, leaving mouths cemented shut.

One thing has not changed from Chat Pile’s eye-awakening last record: The world is fucked, likely permanently, and why mince words and create a positivity that has no chance to exist? “Cool World” is a nice tongue-in-cheek, fuck-off title, and musically they both build on the volatility of their previous work and also add smoother edges and misleading approachability that doesn’t exactly disguise their disgust and despondency. We can’t put a fresh coat of paint over our reality, we can’t clean up the mess, and the more we watch our world devolve, the further the bile pushes up into our throats.    

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

To buy the album, go here: https://nowflensing.com/collections/chat-pile

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