It’s common to hear people complain about death and black metal bands not being heavy enough, not being vicious enough, not being bloodthirsty enough. To be clear, there isn’t one way to create these sounds, and variety has made both subgenres more dexterous, but there’s something to be said for raw brutality, and it feels good when it’s right.

Berlin-by-way-of-Israel stompers Har clearly have a penchant for the roots of the heavier forms of metal, and those are on bloody, sharpened display on debut full-length effort “Cursed Creation.” It’s a compact, deadly eight tracks delivered in about 30 minutes, and each moment packs a punch that feels like it was conjured from three decades ago. That’s spiritually, as their sound certainly has modernity to it, and the band—vocalist O.S., guitarist D.A., drummer A.M.—packs this thing with agony and destruction that can unite newer listeners with someone graying at the edges who’s been at this for years.

“Submerged in Cacophony” begins with mechanical weirdness, riffs warping as crazed wails churn. The playing is drilling and sooty, ugly as hell in spots, tornadic fury cycling harder as dust kicks up. “Invoking Evil Spirit” is speedy, infernal howls causing flesh and muscle to wilt, destroying with mind-melting chaos. The growls get deadlier, the guitars torching as melodies blaze into an endless storm. “Chronocide” tangles your brain wiring, howls ripping with volcanic might, mashing guitars leaving blisters on your extremities. Uncontrollable speed breaks away recklessly as the guitars slay, refusing to relent before everything before it is consumed by flames. The title track trudges, taking its time to ramp up its mission, the tempo later racing with force, guts splattering. Fast, crazed blasts crack skulls, a monstrous fury swept up in a gale force, ending in complete insanity.

“Poisonous Entity” is scathing, bleeding from a million wounds, blasting full force toward slaughter. The bruising terror continues to slam on the gas pedal, guitars glimmering and zapping even as they deliver horrific tidings, while the low end continues to batter until every inch of your body aches. “Infernal Passage” is a strange instrumental piece with guitars glowing and a heat death turning on the carnage, burning its way through outer space. “Shachat – Seven Halls of Defilement” is face splitting, warping, and striking, the growls adding an even deeper level of menace. The pace batters and chars, growls punishing as an animalistic lather aims to suffocate. Closer “Metaphysical Stench” dawns in a molten fury, throaty growls fully mangling, guts squeezed through flesh. The playing zaps as guitars combust, final blasts firing, static marring the senses fully.

Har’s obliterating blend of black and death metal is on full, maniacal display with “Cursed Creation,” an album that tests you physically and mentally. Their snarling, compact first offering is perfect fodder for anyone who wants to have every cell in their body devastated and squeezed for blood as this band delivers heaviness and bestial lunacy in equal servings. This is an album and band on which you should not sleep because before you know it, they’ll have the point of their swords poking at your throat.  

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

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

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

If it’s not every week that we’re going back to the well of pain and anxiety, and I agree we’ve been discussing these topics a lot lately. But that’s what the music we’ve covered has required, and while it’s not terribly comfortable confronting these forces on a regular basis, doing so also leaves a sort of callus that makes the blows easier to take.

California-based black metal power Other World also aren’t afraid to poke at those wounds, which they do early and often on their excellent second record “Tenebrous,” their first full-length in nine long years. The band—vocalist S.P., guitarist/synth player/programmer C.G., bassist J.H., drummer C.M.—heads directly into murky waters, tackling those negative energies and experiences that eat away as our psyches. They bring with them blades sharpened by playing in other bands such as Pillorian, Jesus Wept, Black Salvation and plenty others and direct that weaponry into these powerful five tracks that make the most of rich atmosphere and punishing force.

“From Innocence” opens already in the midst of attack, howls decimating as clean calls intertwine, scathing melodies scorching flesh. The playing surges and flattens as the energy ripples, feeling both gazey and glorious before a calm settles. The bass prods as detached singing numbs, the playing spiraling and flooding before a final jolt. “Arid Dawn” is moody and clean to start, beastly growls punching in, the playing crushing as a deadly storm accumulates. Throaty wails and guttural punishment combine, accumulating and blistering, flooding with a melodic crush, thunderous power lathering and flooding.

“Agony Exhaled By Mist” brings churning guitars and deep singing that reach deep into your chest, a trance-like feel washing over everything and icing nerve endings. The pace then batters, the growls scraping on their way to an atmospheric finish. “Ash, Teeth & Bone” ruptures with drums rumbling, the playing tearing open and spitting nails. The playing is flush with brawn, leads surging into a chasm, the howls smearing as volcanic powers immerse, the sounds glimmering as the vocals crush ribs. Closer “To Decay” packs menace and atmosphere, singing blurring as it turns demonic, the sounds glowing and blinding eyes. Guitars build into a thunderous front, hearts engorging as jarring fire is paced by infectious melodies. The playing floods as wordless vocals give a forceful shove, mashing through dizzying madness as the world spins out of control.

Darkness and sorrow thread through “Tenebrous,” a record that explodes with black and death metal synergies but holds inside it unshakeable scars. Other World create a vortex that draws you into its center point, immersing you with the blackened magic within and showing you that the negativity you face isn’t yours alone. This is a mauling, punishing reminder that pain finds us all, and it depends on what we do with it in the end.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://debemurmorti.aisamerch.com/

Or here (Europe): https://www.debemur-morti.com/en/12-eshop

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

Many different people have been credited with various forms of the saying those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. No matter to whom we ultimately can attribute that thought, there’s a weight and sobering reality behind it, and the further we move into the future, the less we tend to pay that reality any real mind.

That’s not entirely the emphasis behind the second Modern Rites record “Endless,” but it’s not too far from the mark. This duo that combines multi-instrumentalist/vocalist/visual artist Jonny Warren (of Kuyashii) and guitarist Berg (of Aara) looks back on cycles that tend to repeat throughout history, despite our knowledge of how these things normally conclude, but they also inject a healthy sense of self-discovery into that mix to add something more positive. On this follow-up to 2021 debut “Monuments,” the band uses eight tracks and 41 minutes to expand their black metal palette to more swooshing synths and universal energy to add new colors and waves to a record that has a pretty thought-provoking premises. That all makes sense as these songs can expand your mind and help you dive into these volcanic bursts to consider our own places in history.

“Prelude” opens with chilling keys, a calming and spacey push through the galaxy, a lush statement that glides into the title track that explodes with power and melody. Vicious howls punish as the playing lacerates, soaring and glistening, a gasp of whispers breathing harder. Synth fills the air as the playing unloads, guitars encircling before the strains submit to the void. “Lost Lineage” crushes from the start, thrashy madness is dressed with throaty growls, and the blistering stomps the ground and makes the earth quake. Guitars mangle before the temperature drops, paving the way for a renewed storm front, drilling into your psyche. “Veil of Opulence” is a melodic gush, the playing driving hard as the vocals crush teeth. Thunderous devastation mounts a gutting effort, the elements flood the senses, the drama increases as the drums turn rocks into dust, and a synth glaze drifts into nothing.

“Becoming” splatters with electro beats, punches land and bruise ribs, and the playing challenges your mind and body. The keys turn into a cloud bed as the drums come unglued, fascinating and punishing, the howls slashing flesh as the final moments vibrate.  “For Nothing” completely engulfs, a slaughtering pace chugging and collecting bone shards, the melodies steamrolling over you and leaving your prone body flattened. Guitars bring more energy as coarse growls have their way, icy winds robbing you of warmth. “Autonomy” has a stirring open, the vocals engorging, a punishing pace spattering blood across your face. Things continue to get more aggressive, acidic vocals eating through steel, brutality shaking the bones inside your flesh, the carnage eventually giving way to a deep freeze. Closer “Philosophenweg” simmers in darkness before tearing open, vicious howls poking wounds and spiking your adrenaline, the sounds spiraling through an entrancing opening. The tempo then trudges and thrashes, a fiery tone making breathing nearly impossible, the growls rupturing and dragging you to a morbid finality.

The cycles in which we live likely will be a thing as long as there are people, which possibly won’t be that much longer, but that’s another story for another time. “Endless” has Modern Rites using their spacey, immersive black metal to revisit those patterns that can be positive but also can settle back into old habits from which we should have learned. The band’s progression from their debut is exciting both musically and thematically, and this album is one that can fuel your metallic appetite and also spark some thoughts on the imprint we’re leaving on history and how we can try to learn from that.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063570531432

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://debemurmorti.aisamerch.com/band/modern-rites

Or here (Europe): https://www.debemur-morti.com/en/539-modern-rites-shop

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

I’ve never really had an issue with black metal going into better production, cleaner processes, because there are a lot of really talented bands in the mix whose music sounds better with a bit of a professional edge. But that’s not across the board, and there remain artists whose chops are just as sharp who’d rather go the primal route.

It is one of the least shocking things in the world to learn that Nordic black metal duo Avmakt came to the attention of Darkthrone’s Fenriz and Peaceville Records, as this band practically sounds like they were created in their dingy lab. I mean that in a good way. The band’s debut record “Satanic Inversion Of…” is six tracks, 44 minutes of scuffed-up black metal that sounds born in a garage or cave as this duo—Rolf Kristian Valbo (drums, vocals and bass) and Christoffer Bråthen (guitars, vocals and bass)—channels 30 years ago to feast from the roots of the subgenre. This is channeled and bruising, an infernal joy to behold, even if some of the songs tick a little longer than they should. Minor qualm.

“Ordinance” explode with riffs, and riffs are a major part of this record. As is raw chaos, and that continues as the playing rampages, howls roaring through time, the speed spitting and turning chaos. The ground quakes as the relentless terror continues to strike, mangling to a finish. “Poison Reveal” thrashes and plasters, racing and crushing as your brain is squeezed for all its juices. The drums decimate as grim, creaky howls chew nerves, numbing and flattening whatever is in front of them. Both voices unite for destruction as a volcanic fury splatters lava. “Sharpening Blades of Cynicism” bashes away, fiery hell conjured, guitars zapping as the pace tramples in mud. The playing turns blinding, laying waste and extinguishing the life of their adversaries, the playing leaving deep bruising. Guitars ring out as the band slowly thrashes, bringing everything to a hazy, noisy finish.

“Towing Oblivion” opens already unglued, the drums smashing away and fueling a relentless assault that won’t quit. Riffs torch as the growls wrench, the playing speeding up and punching back, the guitars turning guts inside out, a calculated beating disappearing into a feedback halo. “Charred” feels doomier and darker, stretching as moody leads turn vicious, a haunting turn blackening skies. Guitars race as the howls engulf, melodies hypnotizing and drowning into filth. Closer “Doubt and the Void” bludgeons, growls creaking over a bone-breaking pace, guitars lathering as noise causes brush burns. The playing goes off as growls stiffen, guitars blazing as the relentless pace keeps blackening eyes. Numbing power sets in as wild howls race into the night, the drums streak blood, and the guitars churn and smoke the senses.

Avmakt certainly are in a good place at Peaceville, where like-minded Darkthrone can watch over this budding band that makes a fiery first impression on “Satanic Inversion Of…” Again, it’s not that these guys have aped their heroes by any means, but they do carry the same raw aggression and incendiary black metal but with their own devious charm. This is a stellar debut, once that might benefit from a bit of editing but is promising nonetheless.  

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

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

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

There are more times than I care to admit where I wish I could put myself on pause and basically opt out of the events currently going on or what’s likely to unfurl before us. I don’t like being irritated and disgusted all the time, and while I could give myself a break and stop paying attention to the world, that really would not be that productive.

Teeth’s third record “The Will of Hate” encompasses all of those feelings storming in our heads and bodies as the world continues to regress to something that, mentally, is becoming less and less livable all the time. Over 11 tracks and 39 minutes, the band—vocalists/guitarists Erol Ulug and Justin Moore, bassist Peter King, drummer Alejandro Aranda—strikes early and often, piledriving you with a barrage that never gives you time to come up for air. That frustration over facing the cruelty and disgust smeared all over our existences is palpable, and with each song that blasts by, the bitter taste in your mouth gets more and more pronounced.

“Blight” opens in a barrage of fury, growls plastering, and a temporary pullback lets a haze into the room later consuming as the pace trucks harder. Guitars fold as the viciousness floods over, coming to a fully brutal finish. “Loathe” hangs in humidity as the growls lace, the playing bludgeons, and all hell is unleashed. Sinister sentiments sink in their teeth as the growls darken skies, and the battering buries bodies in rubble. “Prison” churns and drills, muddy and gutting playing making tracking tough, the guitars laying waste as the temperatures rise. A pummeling charge strikes as leads melt over top, the searing heat becoming too much to handle. “Pray” clubs as the growls retch, sooty playing meeting with moodier leads, the entire force then absolutely savaging. Growls curdle as the earth shakes, smashing faces and smearing blood. “Shiver” is sinewy, the temperatures rising and suffocating, vicious growls swirling into a haze. The playing continues to rupture blood vessels as a calculated fury floods with carnage at the end.

“Apparition” is muddy and heavy, the violence continuing in full, smothering and thrashing with ill intent. Guitars heat up as the tempo staggers and slurs, a fiery solo warping the final moments. “Writhe” disorients from the start, growls bubbling as the mangling fury becomes impossible to shake, blowtorch intensity melting faces and increasing the heat. The devastation only spreads from there, weighing down on mind and body as things come to a crushing finish. “Seethe” has a mind-altering blast out front, the playing frying brains even as the guitars create something of a fog. Growls add to the menace as the final screws drive forcefully into place. “Churn” opens with punishing growls and the assault destroying, riffs spiraling and drilling into the ground, a steamier aura rising out of that. The guitars take charge as the heat simmers, stabbing to a gutting end. “Realm” has guitars churning as the assault decimates, the weight trudging hard and with certainty, the growls contributing to the slaughter. Internal forces and vicious tenacity re-enter the fray, leaving everything down a path to hell. Closer “Devour” lives up to its name even after starting with a gasp of calm, but it’s not long before every element tears apart flesh and muscle, a hammering fury leading the way. Howls curdle as the guitars take over, glazing and melting, fading out into an eternity of suffering.

There really are times when consciousness is an insult to our being, and Teeth capture that perfectly, violently with “The Will of Hate.” These 11 songs feel like they batter into each other, often seeming like a single diatribe against the forces that continually ail us and make us wonder what the purpose is of handling endless bullshit every day. This is a channeled, smothering display that never relents, barely breathes, and at helps you realize you’re not the only person continually wallowing in a sea of utter bullshit.

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

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

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

This is not a complaint, but there is so much good death metal out there that it’s sometimes really hard to know where to place your concentration. Doing a site like this one, I listen to so much new stuff each week, that sometimes it’s hard to get things to stick to my brain for long enough to matter. It’s a good problem to have.

Speaking of which, Canadian death explorers Gutvoid recently floored us with their 2022 debut “Durance of Lightless Horizons,” which was enough proof we needed that we had a new beast with which to contend. They’ve returned with a 4-track, 31-minute mini-album “Breathing Obelisk” that shows they’ve maintained their base and added some new elements and more spacious power to take their game to the next level. This vicious quartet—vocalist/guitarist Brendan Dean, guitarist Daniel Bonofiglio, bassist Justin Boehm, drummer D.W. Lee—adds more cosmic and psychologically challenging strains to what they already did so well, making their world that much more realized.

“Swamp Consumed” tingles when it opens, burly pounding and crushing growls immediately making pressure a factor, savagery and power uniting. Swollen death explodes as beastly hell is unleashed, trudging over bodies and blood on its way to lathering leads that aim to mangle. Guitars glisten as the playing adds bruising, slowly dripping into the void. “For We Are Many” has a raucous start, spattering and coughing up blood, death blistering over a filthy pace. The attack wrecks psyches as the guitars strengthen their grip, pushing into aggressive, lapping waters, rippling into a hypnotic fade. “When The Living Dome Opens” is cosmic and gashing, growls digging as the playing expands into your mind, the leads scorching just as things turn mystical. The wrecking almost feels personal as the guitars go off and breathe flames, smearing before turning temporarily chilling, soothing before the thorns dig in again. The playing teeters between freezing and molten, punishing to a drubbing end. Closer “Shodar” blinds, beastly growls flexing, tricky guitars making brains spin in skulls, an electric jolting running through the mid-section. A fiery blast melts as monstrous growls swallow flesh and bone whole, scathing guitars salting open wounds, the ground rumbling as everything comes to a smoking end.

While it may be a mini-serving from Gutvoid, “Breathing Obelisk” provides plenty of fodder for any death/doom patron who still likes to be overstuffed no matter the size of the recording. The band is delving deeper into uglier, yet more fascinating terrain, refusing to stay put in their own lane and bringing in other influences and madness surrounding them. This four-track crusher is convincing proof the band’s promising debut wasn’t an illusion, and the band should only morph further from here next time they commit tracks to tape.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.bloodharvest.se/?s=Gutvoid&post_type=product

For more on the label, go here: https://www.bloodharvest.se/

It’s easy to get down on yourself, especially when times are hard and the suffering seems to gather like the tide after an earthquake. You can find yourself buried under waves of torment, unable to gasp for air, making it feel like there’s no way up or out because of all of the suffering pulling you out to sea. There’s hope, but it’s shrouded.

It’s been a long decade since we last heard from Generation of Vipers, and certainly there had to be a lot of listeners who thought they had faded. Yet they rage back to life with “Guilt Shrine,” a fiery seven-track, 35-minute crusher that is relentless from front to back. The band’s noisy, scathing, sludgy metal edge is sharp as ever as themes including regret, pain, loss, grief, and addiction course through these beastly creations. The band—vocalist/guitarist Josh Holt, bassist Travis Kammeyer, drummer Billy Graves—pours everything they have into this creation, almost like they’re making up for lost time. At the same time, while the songs tend to center on negative experiences and the damage they cause, they leave room for hope that these trials and tribulations can be positive experiences that make one whole again.

“Joyless Grails” opens with relentless energy and sludgy power, the howls leaving scars early, the menace driving a stake through your skull. The vocals get tougher and meaner, the playing lambasting before scorching with blinding energy. “In The Wilderness” chugs hard, molten hardcore-style lava flowing, grisly shouts eating into nerve endings. The guitars char, the vocals lacerating as the band rampages to a destructive, mangling finish. “Elijah” starts with the drums coming unglued, the guitars blurring eyes as the madness sets in and spreads viciously. The power explodes as the simple, effective one-word chorus leaves bruising, the chaos ripping apart ribcages, the guitars sliding on blood slicks as the power explodes and leaves bodies buried deep in the earth.

“Lux Inversion” starts with the drums caving in skulls, howls stretching muscle, the band mashing hard as the guitars scathe and waylay before things suddenly get quiet. Whispers flutter before roars unleash the heat again, a dizzying display of brutality letting loose, the leads numbing before finally bludgeoning. “Doesn’t Mean Anything” is an instrumental piece with eerie synth, chilling bass, and humid leads, everything melting away in its waves. “A Quiet Life” has sounds clashing as harsh wails hammer, vicious and muddy strikes causing blood to flow freely, and a suddenly deliberate pace giving the band time to ground faces into the dirt. Guitars well and maul as the band takes some final shots, falling into acidic hell. The closing title track slowly drains veins, delivering a calculated pounding, speak singing letting the words fall like hail. Howls then boil as the playing takes off heads, the bruising thrashing and doing bodily damage, the guitars hanging in the air. Scathing howls tear at wounds as the pace gets grimier, noise ringing in ears until fading mercifully.

Pain, suffering, regret, and loss practically have become essential parts of many of our lives the past few years, and Generation of Vipers capture that manic torment and the struggle to be whole again on “Guilt Shrine.” It’s easy to become our own enemies and fail to get out of our own way when we try to grow, and this record details those struggles that do not have to have a bad ending. It’s great to have this band back again, and it’s clear they spent the time away dealing with emotions and downfalls only to rise again.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://translationloss.com/collections/generation-of-vipers

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

Ever since I was about 10 years old, I have obsessed about my weight. A female classmate made a comment about my ass in middle school when I was drinking from a water fountain. A partner made comments about my love handles. I live in a strange reality where I left behind my tendency to avoid eating in order to help my anxiety and also struggle with weighing more than I ever have, which is not even 200 lbs. at 6 feet tall. It fucking sucks.

NYC noise/doom unit Uniform has a new record called “American Standard,” and from what I just said, can you guess what it’s about? Vocalist Michael Berdan bluntly made it clear this record deals with his bouts with anorexia nervosa and the impact that has had on him. Over these four tracks and 40 minutes, the band—Berdan is joined by fellow founding member and guitarist Ben Greenberg, bassist Brad Truax, drummers Mike Sharp and Michael Blume—strikes out on a confessional, uncomfortable, and hopefully (for Berdan) cathartic record that contains incredibly raw emotion and tracks that likely won’t make anyone’s party mix. And for good reason. This is sobering and jagged, an album designed to help its lyrical creator through a struggle that can and does lead to death for many people.

The 21:16-long title track opens, and it’s unsettling, Berdan howling alone, no music, into the void, but with real, raw pain. “There’s meat on my waist! It hangs on my waist,” and that same thing is screamed about his arms, legs, face, etc. The accompanying cry of, “It can’t be me,” helps hammer home the point, and anyone who ever has suffered with body image surely will be writhing along. Me included. The music then drill as the steam builds, sludgy hell accumulating as Berdan’s calls continue to resonate and do damage, the playing pounding away and stirring emotion, setting fires that cannot be extinguished. The sounds turn doomy and slurry, curdled cries making teeth grind, and then suddenly, a glimmer of hope stabs through. The vocals continue to mangle, as the suffering isn’t over, and the playing spirals, heading into unexpected melody, the light soaring. Berdan’s messages curdle and scathe, the accompanying sounds corroding and fading into dust.

“This Is Not a Prayer” has the vocals crushing, the drums splattering as guitars catch fire, Berdan wailing, “You are right where you’re supposed to be.” Drums batter as the calls echo, percussive chaos makes brains spin in skulls, and chanted howls increase the menace that never lets go. “Clemency” has strings warbling and sludgy guitars attacking, the vocals marring any sense of peace, slashing into chunky, immersive terrain. The mood turns grim and furious in no time at all, battering as the vocals slash like a belt, increasing the heaviness and adding to any sense of desperation. The pressure refuses to relent, locking your head in a vice, forcing you to encounter feelings you perhaps tried to avoid.  “Permanent Embrace” wraps things up, guitars wading in mud, and then the energy bursting open, synth rising and cooling as Berdan stabs your buttons. A thrashy wave breaks out and fucking destroys, the pace laying waste, crushing to a blinding finish.

We live in a society that values a certain body type, and anything outside of that is apparently unacceptable, which is horse shit. But here we are, and Uniform capture that on “American Standard” in a manner that is horribly uncomfortable, and justifiably so. It took me a while to warm up to this record because I was seeing my own issues and psychological pain pertaining to my body. This planet isn’t going to wake up to this trauma. Hopefully records like these will make people squirm enough to stop with these ridiculous standards, but we all know that won’t happen. Love yourself and stay alive.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.sacredbonesrecords.com/collections/frontpage/products/sbr346-uniform-american-standard

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

We’ve all been there, the time when no matter how much sunshine is blazing outside our windows, everything feels hopelessly dark, disturbingly warped. Nothing looks right, and reality seems to have turned in on itself, making every nerve feel burnt and prodded, and all you really want is relief. And that’s a glass away.

Executioner’s Mask create dark post-punk that feels like the soundtrack to those dark days, and their new record “Almost There” is enshrouded in gloom. The band—vocalist Jay Gambit, guitarists Craig Mickle and Daniel Gaona, bassist Anthony Charletta, drummer Melissa Lonchambon—describes the record as being about drinking, longing, and surviving, and those elements are on full display over these eight tracks and 31 minutes that take you along for that ride and, at times, seem to block out the sun. Yet, there’s an attraction in these songs to which it’s easy to gravitate, cracking open your own bottle and numbing your feelings so you can have an evening to feel normal again.

“Devoured” opens gazey, a washed-out melody taking over as Gambit’s deep croon, almost a speak-sing, digs into your psyche. The pace picks up as the playing gets faster, tunneling through the dark and staying there for good. “Losing a Fixed Game” brings chugging guitars and vocals that feel ashen, the playing later lighting up, building as the temperatures spike. “I close my eyes, you are still here,” Gambit warbles, giving way to a flood of noise that chews muscle. “Mezcal Perfume” basks in steam, Gambit calling, “I haven’t seen the sun in weeks,” the psychological torment making everything come across in shades of gray. The moodiness feels like a sun-stained portrait, slowly eroded over time, the guitars surging as the emotion rains down, eventually dissolving into a wall of sound. “Failed Dreams II” is dreary, the singing bruising, the feeling of isolation setting in, a burst of energy rippling the shadowy waters. Things turn into a warped technicolor nightmare, blurring visions and drowning everything in an oncoming stormfront.

“Sunset in the Valley” rollicks with a post-punk glaze, the guitars taking on more dashes of light, Gambit snarling, “And we drink, and we drink, and we drink.” The power brushes against you, dimming the room, burning off the remaining fuel. “A Modest Proposal” dawns amid serious pressure, guitars scalding as the singing engorges, spiraling and working into the darkness. The leads sting and float, tingling your flesh, your brain cells melting into echoes. “Lovers in Hell” is catchy when it opens, drums punching as an icy obsession encases everything in its wake. The moodiness thickens as the fog becomes like a blanket, electricity shrieking while the strangeness takes up residence in the back of your brain. Closer “On Park Row” challenges with guitars scraping, a psychedelic blur blending before your eyes, the singing warbling. The playing turns moody and reflective, the emotions caterwauling, the noise sucking energy and burning into oblivion.

“Almost There” is despairingly dark, even as the music has moments that feel bright and energetic, but the haze of drunkenness often feels that way, a jolt of euphoria amid endless struggle. Executioner’s Mask have a way to make that feel alluringly charming, even as you stare into the abyss, your nightmares having come to life. These are songs that can be by your side as you try to numb the pain, figuring out a way to feel more like yourself, at least the better version of it, again one day.

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

To buy the album (vinyl), go here: https://seeingredrecords.8merch.us/product/executioners-mask-almost-there-lp-pre-order/

Or here (CD): https://alacarterecords.com/products/executioners-mask-almost-there

Or here (cassette): https://summerdarlingtapes.bigcartel.com/product/executioner-s-mask-almost-there-sdt-037

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

And here: https://alacarterecords.com/

And here: https://www.instagram.com/summerdarlingtapes/

It’s a dark, cold night as you walk leisurely through the woods, something you’ve done countless times before. But something’s different this time. Something is amiss. You push on further, lured by the smell of fires burning, and sounds of chants filling the air, and then it comes into view: what looks like a ritual conducted by cloaked figures.

That also sounds like a typical nightmare for those whose minds tend toward the haunted, and it also could be what Hail Darkness was looking to soundtrack on “Death Divine,” the band’s first full-length. Anyone looking for something that mixes the best of Coven, Jex Thoth, and Cathedral will be right at home on this 10-track offering, and while the band—vocalist/guitarist Jez, bassist/backing vocalist Joshua, drummer/backing vocalist Emmet—doesn’t really visit new ground, they have the proper mind frame and personality to make this feel like a new stab at a time-honored sound. Plus, there’s a sense of devious fun coursing through this record’s veins, and that’s an easy selling point for me every time.

“Luciferian Dawn” kicks off with psychedelic heat, Jez’s smoky, bluesy vocals striking, a buzzing and trippy push leading you down the rabbit hole. The leads lather as the vocals continue to loom large, the playing bristling as the echoes consume all. “Cult of the Serpent Risen” delivers cool riffs and hazy playing, the vibe taking on a late summer feel when the sun’s retreat leads to cooler evenings. Burly pounding slips into a groove as folkish melodies rain down, hand drumming rousing as strings trip, feeling dark and ritualistic. “Hour of the Silent Rite” opens with Jez’s voice only, easily haunting you, and then we’re deep into ’70s bliss, the coven-like feel making your flesh crawl, the singing again overtaking you. The playing continues to agitate embers until the sounds disappear deep into the woods. “With Horns of a Beast” has the bass crawling, flutes breezing, and warm guitars washing over you. The singing is warm and lucid, strangely mystical as the heaviness lands, dissolving into sound. “Hail Darkness” is a short cut with acoustics, high singing, and a dreamy gaze that leaves you hypnotized.

“Goat of Mendes… Raise the Glass!” has scalding guitars, the playing turning bluesy again, and Jez calling, “Midnight rituals of the blackened mass.” The guitars let psyche waves lap the shore, and then the pace grows molten, the playing plodding and driving your face into the dirt. “Coven of the Blackened One” unloads with harsher guitars and impending darkness, the singing causing clouds to burst as the visions of ritual flash in fires. “Casting shadows, casting light,” Jez calls, the guitars bubbling into folk passages and suddenly darkening pathways. “Azarak!” opens with guitars churning and a hazy chorus numbing the senses, the immersion into mystery taking on a bigger role. Wiccan chants cause chills as the guitars boil and crunch, muddy trails swallowing footsteps, entrancing as the final notes ring out in time. “Eyes White Black Soul” feels like a brief ’60s-style pop burst, the bouncy guitars plucking, breathy calls unfurling a velvet-rich landing spot. Closer “See You in Hell” greets with erupting drums, riffs chewing, and electricity swaggering, Jez’s singing packing another strong punch. The leads blister, letting the smoke form into a stormfront, chunky and punchy playing landing blows as Jez taunts, “See you in hell.”

Hail Darkness tread similar ground as other artists, but they make up for the well-visited sound with their charisma that drips all over “Death Divine.” This is a fun record that swells with witchy magic and pays homage to elements that have been part of metal and heavy rock’s fiber throughout history. Autumn arriving soon makes for the perfect setting for this music when the haunting majesty is thick in the air once again.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.diggersfactory.com/vinyl/319104/hail-darkness-death-divine-lp