Thrash metal hasn’t aged or developed nearly as well as death, doom, and black metal, and finding impactful bands and records in that subgenre has been a little tougher to accomplish. For every band such as, say, Midnight that has made a true mark over the last decade, there are plenty more that didn’t have what it takes to make people stand up and take notice.

Luckily, we in Pittsburgh have a gift to share with everyone else, that being Vicious Blade, whose debut record “Relentless Force” is about to land with the impact of an asteroid knifing through the earth. This nine-track, 28-minute pounder is an ideal follow-up to their 2022 EP “Siege of Cruelty, that was released by Steel City stronghold Our Ancient Future, and it shows even more confidence and tenacity from a band that wasn’t exactly bereft of those qualities. Redefining Darkness Records obviously took notice and brought Vicious Blade—vocalist Clarissa Badini (also of Castrator), guitarists Jeff Ellsworth and Erik Wynn, bassist Justin Pelissero, drummer Kevin Parent—into the fold to give them and this smothering record the added exposure they both richly deserve. As a lifelong fan of thrash, I’ve been excited about this band from the start, and it’s awesome to watch them climb to new heights and conquer fresh worlds.

The title track opens and burns its way in, the band setting up shop early with Badini’s wild howls ripping down your spine. The playing bruises hard, the guitars charging, a commanding storm collecting and blasting with defiance. “Lunacy” cuts open and moves forward with commanding speed and beasty calls, Badini wailing, “Lunacy is in control!” The pace gets deadlier as the soloing scorches, delivering great energy and meaty thrash that pulverizes bones. “Mistress of Death” crunches, Badini’s scathing voice peeling the whites from your eyes. Guttural and charging, the playing pushes you down as melodic leads explode and lather with power, and the attack continues to get more animalistic, guitars blazing to an abrupt end. “Visceral Weakness” brings added guitar sizzle, a direct and violent approach that leaves ample bruising. Things get wilder as the speed pedal is pushed through the floor, racing and tangling, leaving everything in a smoldering ash pile.

“Forged Steel” fires up with yelled vocals and guitars matching that venom, shrieks later adding a sharp edge to the proceedings. There’s a bit of a punk feel injected into the mix, scathing and melting as Badini declares, “We are forged steel.” “Blasphemous Conjuring” takes time to build its pressure, the playing eventually dashing and racing, devouring everything whole. Badini’s words paint a ritualistic picture, the guitars chugging along with her to further blacken skies, the leads catching fire and choking everything with smoke. “Nocturnal Slaughter” explodes out of the gates, throaty howls from Badini driving through your chest, fluid playing combining with audio violence that promises no mercy. As the track develops, so does the ferocity, becoming an even bigger factor, grinding bodies all the way to the finish. “Scorched” basks in corrosive growls and guitars that tease hyper speed, the charging making it tough to gain your footing, things even turning a little brighter amid all of the carnage. The pace gets chunkier and bloodier, going head first into the furnace, refusing to take any safety precautions. Closer “Death Blow” actually opens with cleaner guitars, letting the humidity become a factor, eventually ripping through guts as the madness comes to life. Throaty howls blacken eyes, airy melodies add new texture to the thrash brutality, darkness enveloping as everything comes to a morbid end.

Vicious Blade not only keeps their thrash metal sword dangerously sharp and bloody, but they also prove their meddle is solid as hell on “Relentless Force.” The band continues to build on their already powerful foundation with this first full serving that should announce their arrival with an impact that will knock people on their asses. We in Pittsburgh already know what this band brings to the table, and with Redefining Darkness behind them, the rest of the world is about to learn thrash is alive, well, and dripping with blood.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://redefiningdarkness.8merch.us/

Or here (rest of the world): https://redefiningdarkness.8merch.com/

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

Not all death metal was created equal, which is a pretty obvious statement on the surface, even more so when you dig through all the new music that gets released each week. There are plenty of really good bands pooling and giving listeners a treasure trove of art on which to feast, and then there are the masters that continually rise above and decimate.

Ripped to Shreds undoubtedly exist in the upper echelon of death metal bands, and their mind-bending fourth record “Sanshi” is another example of why this force exists in rarified air. Over 10 manic tracks, the band—vocalist/guitarist Andrew Lee, guitarist Michael Chavez, bassist Ryan Cavaleras, drummer Brian Do—attacks with an urgency, mixed with gnarly grind tendencies and a violent cohesion that is the result of a full band effort for the first time in RTS history. Thematically, the band unleashes ancient Chinese traditions, including morbid death rituals that include the use of exotic dancers for twisted funeral ceremonies. This band never goes the conventional route and always leans toward their ancestors folklore and history, presented in a convulsive, violent package.

“Into the Court of Yanluowang” rips open, vile howls retching, guitars going off as the nastiness is amplified. The playing absolutely steamrolls, great guitar interplay exploding and making adrenaline spike, the aura going from spacious to blazing. “Force Fed” revels in speed, shrieks and grunts trading off to add to the ugliness, bruising jolts mixing with the dashes of lightning. Everything then crunches harder, mauling and buzz sawing, the chants of, “Die! Die!” rippling down your spine. “燒冥紙 (Sacrificial Fire)” clobbers from the start, guitars snaking through rivers of blood, a gnarly chorus eating into muscle. The pace then slows and revels in smoke, the atmosphere exploding as guitars soar, and then the sudden combustion rubs your face in the dust. “孽鏡臺 (Visions of Sin, Mirror of Darkness)” has guitars lighting up, glazing, and then stabbing, the vocals trading off from guttural growls to manic shrieks. The parts keep piling up, sickening with sinewy madness, Lee wailing, “Escape! Escape! No escape!” as the last strains burn off. “Feast of the Deceased” is dizzying and spindly, a thrashy onslaught making its force felt, churning into unforgiving fire. Leads melt as fluid soloing gushes with power, a classic metal feel working through hungry veins, even bending progressive as the path drives into the side of a mountain.

“殭屍復活 (Horrendous Corpse Resurrection)” chugs with commanding guitars and battering lava, shrieks coupling with death growls to make a savage union, a punkish vibe suddenly exploding into the music. Things gets even faster and more daring, barreling toward a violent conclusion. “Living in Effigy” delivers a punch right to the throat, thrashy quaking making the room shake, throaty howls rocketing toward chest cavities. Guitars tear open, guts exploding from the seams, zapping through piles of prone bodies, the drums suddenly combusting and blasting through the crust of the earth. “冥婚 (Corpse Betrothal)” delivers riffs that chew through gristle, growls scorching as the tempo makes it feel like the room is spinning out of control. The drums blister as scathing screams amplify nightmares, fiery screams tearing through time, slowly burning down along with the planet. “Cultivating Towards Ascension” is unhinged and grinding, calling to mind some of Lee’s other projects, as does the closer. We’ll get there. Flesh is torn, brains tangled as the drums explode and spit rocks, the guitars engulfing with pressure, decimating to the end. The closer is “Perverting the Funeral Rites, Stripping for the Dead,” a track as insane as its title indicates, sickening with brutality, vocals spat out as Lee demands, “Strip for the dead!” Fluid leads turn hyper as faces are smashed, the dead teased with strange dances from the cult assembled, blasting into the land of the souls.

“Sanshi” is an exotic, violent record, as well as one of Ripped to Shreds’ most insane recordings to date. It feels like there is no downtime whatsoever, no chance to take a breath amid these tracks that call back to traditions that might be new to a wide swath of their audience. This band never fails to deliver death metal that pushes you in directions you never expected and into terrain you never thought you’d visit. The end result is physical and mental brutality that leave you gasping for breath.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/collections/ripped-to-shreds-sanshi

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

When Trevor Strnad died in 2022, the very existence of the Black Dahlia Murder was thrust into mystery, and rightfully so. Strnad not only was one of the unique voices in death metal, he was believer, a man who held aloft the banner of his chosen style and worked to help younger bands he felt had what it takes. His loss was devastating. It remains that way.

When the band decided to forge ahead, with long-time guitarist and founding member Brian Eschbach as vocalist, it remained to be seen if that was the right call. Live shows happened, and the enthusiasm started to build. The band—rounded out by guitarists Brandon Ellis and the returning Ryan Knight, bassist Max Lavelle, and drummer—stood to pay tribute to their fallen friend, which they did with those first performances, but the real evidence came in form of their 10^th record “Servitude,” an album that seemed unlikely a couple years ago. To the band’s credit, it feels like they never left, and even the mammoth void Strnad left behind is filled capably by Eschbach. Never does he try to ape his friend’s work, but his vocals bear some resemblance, which makes his voice fit even better, and this is more than a worthy addition to a revered collection and surely would make Strnad proud with how his friends carried on.

“Evening Ephemeral” starts with waves crashing and what sounds like dulcimer passages before we head into terror, jarring open as Eschbach roars for the first time, keeping up a very similar clip as Strnad showed but with his own attitude and approach. It more than fits. Guitars open and swallow whole as the pressure gets gnarlier, the words mangling with blades, airy leads taking everything home. “Panic Hysteric” starts like classic TBDM, attacking as the vocals spiral with an endless fury, tricky hooks flooding and playing games with your mind. The path then gets more manic, matching its title, the growls smothering through a fire storm. “Aftermath” explodes,  Eschbach going for the throat with his animalistic growls, speed and savagery uniting to make a formidable pair. Leads soar as we head into a bendier attack, blows administered generously, bursting to a spirited finish. “Cursed Creator” is darker when it dawns, the vocals feeling a little grittier, humid guitars swelling and adding a near-lush quality to the melodies. Well, as lush as death metal can be. Guttural growls strike as the guitars crawl, the playing sprawling before coming to a properly metallic end. “An Intermission” is aptly named, a quick acoustic cut that’s awash with serenity that soon will be undone.

“Asserting Dominion” punishes, the screams strangling, melodies mixing in with a death crush that disorients and then picks up speed suddenly. The intensity is heavy as riffs zap, the howls encircle almost like the death drain on the cover, guitars glistening as the final veins rupture. The title track is punishing and relentless, ripping as Eschbach’s screams come at you like a mouthful of spat glass, even leaning a bit into black metal territory. The leads gash as the nastiness spikes, guitars crushing as everything succumbs to a dark exhaust. “Mammoth’s Hand” opens with gutting growls, trudging horror, and layered guitars that add layers of vicious power. Moody leads arrive and spread gloom, a reflective haze letting you bask in the bloodshed, curdling howls bringing everything to a weighty conclusion. “Transcosmic Blueprint” is another that feels right out of the classic TBDM playbook, the attack coming with a ferocity and tenacity that pack a jolting blow. The growls lay waste while the guitar interplay is infectious and burly, borderline playful, and the back end of the track storms and slashes its way through. Closer “Utopia Black” feels dark and doomy when it starts, the guitars chugging and then racing, the bubbling menace becoming incredibly morbid. Howls splatter, digging deep into the guts for pools of gastric acid, and the final gasps of carnage disappear back into the whirlpool claiming souls into the abyss.

Replacing a longtime member, especially one as beloved as Strnad, is not easy task, but TBDM knock this out of the park on “Servitude.” If anything, this record and this path with Eschbach singing was an even bigger undertaking because, if done wrong, could have destroyed a lot of good will. But you can tell this record was created with their hearts in the right place, with blades held in tribute to their fallen friend, and with a blaze burning onward to the future in this new era for the Black Dahlia Murder.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://metalblade.indiemerch.com/

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

As I sit here, schools are being evacuated in Ohio over a fucking bullshit story a vice presidential candidate spread. We could be months from a dictatorship that could lead to the end of democracy, something one party doesn’t even think exists. People still believe diseases aren’t real. Every day is hotter than the one before. Other than that, shit rules.

Out of the blue at the start of September, death freak show Pyrrhon crept back out of the ashes with their maniacal fifth record “Exhaust,” a 10-track, 38-minute destroyer that manages to up the band’s already insane ante. To create this album, the band—vocalist Doug Moore, guitarist Dylan DiLella, bassist Erik Malave, drummer Steve Schwegler—retreated to cabin in rural Northeastern Pennsylvania to let their unhinged creative process flow freely. The band confronted our decaying society and political framework that even would make a fascist leader possible as well as contending with the constant presence of social media, the burgeoning AI industry, and other elements that try to claim our sanity and peace on a daily basis. Yes, all Pyrrhon records are a challenge musically and psychologically, but “Exhaust” takes things even further into the void. By the way, unlike a lot of surprise releases, the physical copies already exist. I got my record like 3 days after I ordered on release date, though I like like 20 miles from the label home. Still, a nice touch to already have this in hand.

“Not Going to Mars” rumbles in manic fire, which is no surprise on the surface, but locking into this is like a panic attack. Shrieks rain down as the guitars decimate, and violent, dizzying heat become formidable factors. Things pull back for a moment, then it’s back to the feast, drowning out in spacious weirdness. “First as Tragedy, Then as Farce” boils with deranged shrieks and blinding speed, the lower end lumbering, cortisol raging through veins. The assault increases the psychological violence, pushing it to emergency levels, raging to a raucous end. “The Greatest City on Earth” mounts a massive guitar attack, dizzying with zany and spacey devastation, pushing sanity to the limit. Coarse howls meet with spattering speed, trucking and thrashing into the grave. “Strange Pains” begins with a forceful drums-bass pathway, setting the stage for a mathy electricity storm that reminds of vintage Dillinger Escape Plan. That energy continues to warp, bloodthirst turning into a mission, thick oil slicks causing you to lose control and succumb to power. “Out of Gas” opens amid a deathrock-style spiral, darkening the mood, speak-singing poking congealing wounds. Bass clogs as the noises echo, Moore warbling, “It’s just me and the concrete now,” before shrieks slash, anguish turning into a mechanical nightmare.

“Luck of the Draw” trucks, howls strangling, the thrashiness increasing its stranglehold and making the road even bumpier. Guitars numb as the shrieks peel flesh, tingling tension increasing and slugging to a slaughtering finish. “Concrete Charlie” spits an off-kilter melody, which seems silly to say considering what’s transpired already, but this push is a brain melter. Growls rumble as rubbery melodies bounce off skulls, blood spiking, animalistic cries rippling through skeletal structures, ending in a tornadic blister. “Stress Fractures” is an immediate assault, sickening and creating a nauseating mental breakdown, scrambling brains inside skulls. The elements feel like they’re poured into a hellish blender, howls lurching, guitars sending bizarre signals, a maniacal finish seemingly the only sane way to end this. “Last Gasp” is steamy and humid, a bizarre darkness unfurling and sending listeners on a cold journey though psychosis. Sounds scuff and then take off toward the sky, power jolting as the shrieks rip, the playing melting away as we end with a clip from “Mad Max 2.” Closer “Hell Medicine” smashes outright, growls engorging as the playing creates an aura you didn’t know was possible, surging with disarming ferocity. Torment is unleashed to a greater degree, guitars sweeping, growls corroding as your damaged mind finally is given peace, though at what cost?

“Exhaust” is an aptly titled, timely record especially in the madness in which we’re ensconced, and while it might have been a slog initially to put together, Pyrrhon pulled together and created an insane album for unsettling times. It feels like the entire country, likely the world, could use a similar retreat just to recalibrate and get a fucking hold of ourselves. That’s not going to happen, everything is going to continue to burn, we’re going to have to fight would-be dictators to the death, and music like this will be perfect for fueling that never-ending struggle.

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

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

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

It feels like forever ago, but it only was a few years ago that most of us were huddled at home, unable to do the normal things we would do, isolated from loved ones and friends as a global pandemic took hold. We’re largely back to normal now, though nowhere near out of the woods, and those times we endured can feel like an extended mental torture session where we were pushed to our psychological limits.

The birth of Dreamless Veil came out of that time, a musical project that started as a sort of solo project for Psycroptic drummer Dave Haley as he endured the same dismal times as we all did without his normal creative outlet. He recruited Inter Arma/Artificial Brain vocalist Mike Paparo to write lyrics and lay down his unmistakable pipes and brought in  Dan Gargiulo, also of Artificial Brain and late of Revocation, to contribute guitars, bass, synth, and vocals to what turned into a thunder-storming project. The result is “Every Limb of the Flood,” a concept piece that centers on a character named Grief who takes this journey only to discover he’s poisonous to himself and other people. Each track and all 36 minutes are spent telling the being’s volatile tale as the decision to potentially end his suffering looms large.

“Dim Golden Rave” starts wonderfully off kilter, guitars spiraling as anguished cries emerge, the heat giving off a late-summer vibe, which is fitting. Leads swirl as the vocals echo, a melodic gust and spacious melodies churning into space. “A Generation of Eyes” stirs in black metal heat, punishing as the reverbed vocals spin in your head, lush, yet speedy dashes making blood race. Guitars bleed and gust as blasts crush bones, hitting a tornadic force that disappears into sound. “Saturnism” has a savage start, fiery punches thrown, strangeness tearing into the cosmos, the storm growing and suddenly consuming everything whole. Howls crush as cold winds emerge, the power rattling to a smearing finish. “The Stirring of Flies” is dizzying as guitars tangle, throaty growls create a gale force wind, the playing then warps brains. Guitars go off as a cavernous spaciousness is achieved, the terror firing, fading.

“Cyanide Mine” has guitars carving and melodies gusting, shrieks aching before a mammoth riff sends you for a loop. The vocals continue to retch, charging with vicious intent, suddenly halting and letting guitars drip like a psychedelic syrup. The title track assaults with animalistic violence, crushing wills, the growls tunneling into the sides of skulls. An atmospheric push pulls back on the force but not the intensity, melodies flood generously, and wild cries slide into a diabolical fade. “Glossolalia” is ominous, Paparo’s cries wrenching, eerie streams making your flesh crawl. The playing floods the senses and stimulates nerve endings, chilling before dumping molten rock, barreling into a mind-altering reality. Closer “Dreamless” arrives amid crashing drums, progressive black metal prowess, and growls ripping at exposed wounds. Howls gurgle as the room begins to spin, the warmth increasing and growing increasingly volatile, sizzling and boiling, the guitars rushing off the edges before a serenity claims the final moments as its own.

At the end of “Every Limb of the Flood,” Grief becomes one of us, tired of having had to endure a string of hardships and just wanting to fade away forever. The timeframe in which Dreamless Veil created this music was during a span when it seemed like our lives never would return to normal, and in a way they haven’t. This album pulls from one of the darkest periods of recent memory and helps us relive those days over eight thunderous, thought-provoking crushers that reminds us we survived somehow, some way.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/collections/dreamless-veil-every-limb-of-the-flood

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

Very often when I try to sleep at night, I’ll use a wraparound headband with speakers built in and put on a cosmic black metal playlist. It just so happens the sounds of the stars mixed with the most unforgiving art form on the planet soothes me and helps inform my dreams, as I often go places in my mind I don’t at other times. I’ll likely do that tonight.

One of the regular artists that comprise that list is Esoctrilihum, the one-man project long helmed by sole creator Asthâghul, who has given us 11 full-length records since this banner’s debut eight years ago. The latest is “Döth-Derniàlh,” a seven-track, 78-minute adventure that sounds very much like the band’s previous output in spirit and adds a 12-string acoustic guitar to add extra texture, as well as a nyckelharpa. It’s an exciting new chapter from an artist who has given us five albums the last two years alone and continually finds new ways to keep the creative flow raging throughout the universe, the deepest, darkest regions that always have informed Asthâghul’s music.

“Atüs Liberüs (Black Realms of Prisymiush’tarlh)” is the 10:13-long opener, leaning in eerily as keys glow and strings pulsate, Asthâghul’s unmistakable cries wreaking havoc. The playing grows more propulsive, the vocals strangling as acoustics wash in, sounds bouncing and penetrating wounds, ending in a storm cloud hanging everlasting. “Turiälh (The Gloomy Wheel of Confusion)” is immersive, throaty howls doing damage, a cosmic wind shaking the trees. The playing turns blunt and then tornadic, gothy beams making everything blacker, strangeness surging into a new acoustic gasp. Beastly madness strikes as growls lumber, gurgles bubbling to an ominous close. “Dy’th Eternalhys (The Mortuary Renewal)” is the longest track, running 15:53 and stomping through time, mystical powers flowing into your blood. Synth darts have impact as grim wails choke with force, spiraling black metal increasing the impact, guitars chiming as chants paint the air. Coarse growls and jangling guitars mix, sending the energy into the skies.

“Lüthirkys Spasmuldis (Near Death Experience)” opens in acoustics, wild shrieks bending minds, a trancey vision taking hold. The vocals crush as sorrowful melodies create a sullen atmosphere, speed and ferocity uniting as lush strings flood, panicked screams disappearing into the shadows. “Zilthuryth (Void of Zeraphaël)” dawns with folkish strings, breezes causing your flesh to rise, drums tapping as if off the side of your skull. Wondrous playing fills your chest with emotion, acoustics building as the vocals gets nastier, chants swirling amid chambery sounds and spirits. “Murzaithas (Celestial Voices)” blends quiet guitars and singing echoing and swimming, digging in as the playing gets more vicious. The harshness multiplies, guitars soaring and stretching imaginations, a strange haze sinking into the developing drama, smoke choking lungs. Sounds rise as an explosion tears off doors, mashing and mangling, slowing fading away. Closer “Özhirialh (The Mystical Radiance of the Eternal Path)” runs 11:13, the singing mixing with metallic riffs, sounds crashing off walls. An easier glide makes it feel like serenity has arrived, but it’s not long until blood flows again, acoustics brushing as the singing turns savage. Strings gust as the drums mash, guitars light up and increase the temperature, and one last taste of viciousness ends everything in complete disorientation.

Asthâghul’s creative vision appears to know no bounds, and with the addition of acoustic instruments and other weapons, he manages to add new ghoulish energy to “Döth-Derniàlh.” Esoctrilihum is a project that certainly has demanded a lot of its audience but also has rewarded it with a flood of releases, each a step ahead from the ones before it, taking your mind and Asthâghul’s into new corners. This is another daring mission into metal’s sun, charring its edges and forging new pathways other artists fear to tread.

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

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

Or here (Europe): https://metalodyssey.8merch.com/record-label/i-voidhanger-records/

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

There’s a scene in “A Christmas Story” that always made me feel uncomfortable. The family is eating dinner, and Mrs. Parker can’t even get a moment to have her own meal because she must keep getting up to tend to everyone else’s whims. It’s frustrating and irritating, even if it’s played for humor, but it shows the role she is expected to play.

“The Disfigured and the Divine” is the debut album from Emasculator, a death metal band whose members are spread across Czechia and the United States. The album concentrates on the role of women in all societies, the presence of a goddess in mythology, and the plights of motherhood and womanhood. Many times, these responsibilities are minimized by people (ahem, men), and you can see from so much political policy both here and around the world that an effort is being made to minimize women in everyday life. That idea is met with savagery by this bestial unit—vocalist Mallika Sundaramurthy, guitarists Teresa Wallace and Morgehenna, drummer Cierra White—who lay waste to your physical and mental well-being over these seven tracks, which they also use to celebrate women in society and their ability to nourish and care while also remaining fiercely independent.

“Ecstasy in Disseverment (of Self)” dawns as grinding death, ugly growls gurgling and mixing blood with spit. Mauling and beastly, a spiraling attack lays waste, bludgeoning to the final blast. “In Resplendent Terror” wrenches as guitars smear, complete skullduggery eating away at your psyche. Burly terror leans even harder into violent waters, growls consuming flesh, drums splattering, and the scorching assault leading into hell. “Thesmophoric Rites” opens in pure brutality, growls peeling generous amounts of flesh, guitars surging as the power clogs the system. The already sinister pace comes unglued, the band achieving total decimation, the vocals getting even uglier as physical and mental horrors attempt to sever limbs.

“The Unassailable” is a quick piece that’s hypnotic with sitar stirring, chants by Swathi Kalahasti swirling and mesmerizing, the final embers fading. “Eradication of the Asuras” is gutting, growls mauling as speed becomes a major factor, making your head spin. It feels like the bones are rattling in your body, barbarous hell snarling, gruff horror battering to the end. “Age of the Goddess” features guest vocals from Daniela Dahlien Neumanová (the Corona Lantern, Noisebleed, ex-Diligence), as fires seem to spread at will, churning through a blinding wrath, rubbing faces in filth. The punishment keeps unloading as a pace shift makes your neck jerk, retching and clubbing as it collects bones. Closer “Supreme Void of Acephalous Being” is unhinged and vicious, growls scraping as the leads lap, thrashy power flexing its muscles. Guitars blaze as the lower end gets beefier and more explosive, animalistic fire peaking and ending abruptly.

“The Disfigured and the Divine” puts the plight of women worldwide into a brutal package that not only bleeds with pain and pride but also reminds that they are not to be underestimated. Emasculator are on fire during these seven songs, showing their gnarliest blades and opening the necks of anyone who plans to stand in their way. This is a vicious statement, one that should not be underestimated because before you know it, their force will have overtaken yours, and there will be no looking back.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://nserecords.bigcartel.com/

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

Life is hell, or at least it is more often than not in a lot of cases, and continually going through that is a grind that can eat away at your will to just get up in the morning. That sounds like a bummer of a way to begin a week, admittedly, but it can be productive to realize these things to get a handle on the blackness.

“Lightless Expanse” is the second full-length record from Colorado crushers Glacial Tomb, and at its center are these themes of life being a goddamn slog, and these struggles are brought to life through a story that dresses agony with cosmic horror. This record also is a step up in intensity and heaviness for this band—vocalist/guitarist Ben Hutcherson, bassist David Small, drummer Mike Salazar—two of whom are a part of traditional metal slayers Khemmis. There’s an urgency and devastation to these songs, and it’s easy to feel the torment, grief, and isolation that construct each section of this record.

“Stygian Abattoir” churns in noise before the lid is torn off, riffs sizzling as the shrieks punish. The leads go off as the playing swaggers, feeling a bit like classic Black Dahlia Murder before coming to a vicious end. “Voidwomb” is sludgy and fiery, thick howls bruising as the riffs sicken. Things take a mechanical turn, grinding you in the gears, and then slow, sludgy power emits electricity, classic-style guitars leaving you in the dust. “Enshrined in Concrete” is piledriving and animalistic, crunching with savage war lust as the sinewy muscle goes cold. Elegant leads stretch and gasp heat as shrieks rip, things coming to a devastating end. “Abyssal Host” is fiery and brutal, screams rippling through the air, the playing battering and blackening eyes. A doomy haze settles, suffocating and bleeding away in a sonic haze.

“Sanctuary” stabs and crushes, guitars fluttering and stinging, muddy horrors oozing out of every crease. Growls hammer before turning to flattening shrieks, the carnage rampaging to the end. “Seraphic Mutilation” slays, squeezing with force, shrieks slashing at limbs, veins suddenly clogged with tar. Leads simmer as a thick murk envelopes, atmospheric pressure increasing the heat and slipping into “Worldsflesh” that mauls with reckless abandon. The pace feels swollen and mighty, guitars taking flight, the bass driving into surprisingly progressive waters before the final blows rain down. “Wound of Existence” is impossibly thick, grooves making the playing sink in its teeth, down-tuned morbidity choking with force. Screams tear away as swollen hell emerges, humidity surging and wilting flesh. The closing title track chugs as vicious screams rub salt into wounds, vile horror spreading as the brutality multiplies. Demonic cries lay waste as the leads glimmer, and the final shots ricochet into the distance.

The bleak, uneasy themes that mark “Lightless Expanse” get morbid life with the thunderous death and black metal Glacial Tomb have perfected and drizzled all over these songs. It’s a different manner in which to visit such darkness, themes we all have grown to know a little too intimately. It makes this record both exciting and dangerously reflective, a ride that might cause bumps and bruises though it’s a physical jolt to experience.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.prostheticrecords.com/products/glacial-tomb-lightless-expanse

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

There are those bands that are content to stick to a formula and follow that basic pattern, with some wrinkles here and there, through their entire run. There’s some logic in that, and there is nothing wrong with remaining true to one’s sound with little deviation. Other artists don’t rest as easily and continually find means of reinvention or simply changing the game.

Trelldom is a well-known, well-regarded name in the annals of black metal, having formed in 1992 and released a trilogy of fiery records from 1995 through 2007. Led by the legendary vocalist Kristian Eivind Espedal—Gaahl if you’re nasty—who has fronted other renowned acts including Gorgoroth, Gaahls Wyrd, and Wardruna, the band returns 17 years after their last record with “…By the Shadows…” a creation that certainly paints outside the rigid sub-genre lines. This band isn’t content to keep making the same thing, and we’ll all luckier for it. Joined by guitarist/bassist/electronic specialist Stian Kårstad, drummer Kenneth Kapstad, and sax/clarinet player Kjetil Møster, Espedal and the band reimagine Trelldom’s form, injecting expansive melodies, thoughtful instrumentation, and yes, alluring darkness to the center of this record that stands as one of their most exciting creations to date.

“The Voice of What Whispers” opens with the bass squeezing, tension building and churning, woodwinds adding a chilling breeze. Espedal’s vocals turn to a creak singing, adding a sinister element, the haunting swirling before guitars rip and spellbind. The playing jars as the sax sizzles, zipping into the darkness. “Exit Existence” has guitars jolting and the vocals daring, a propulsive melody ripping veins as the singing aches and bellows. The storm picks up, diving into immersive waters, the sax wailing as the melodies wax and wane. “Return the Distance” is stirring, violence slicing through calm, the sax sprawling, the atmosphere numbing. The heat in the air blisters as the horns bellow, this instrumental piece bowing to the deep. “Between the World” has guitars bending as the sounds smear and disorient, growled whispers leaving scars. The temperatures drop, making your body shiver relentlessly, the chorus gliding as the title is called back with detached horror, howls repeating as they head into mist and echo.

“I Drink out of My Head” is active and fluid, sax cutting through muscle, the singing gliding along with the waves. The power chugs as sounds gust, the sax turning tornadic, and deep, tunneling singing making its impact. Storms rise as the melodies windmill, tightening the pressure with a metallic tourniquet, noise jangling off into a steely atmosphere. “Hiding Invisible” is ominous, a noxious cloud hanging in the air, humidity thickening as warbled sounds make flesh crawl. Cold, gravelly singing grinds flesh, steam rising as the sax rises above the din, sounds shrieking and drubbing, everything ending in mechanical fuzz. Closer “By the Shadows” has charred guitars and a spastic pace, the singing turning dark and moody, then playing bursting open live lava through the earth’s crust. Soft sax wafts as Espedal’s jaws practically come unhinged, dramatic wails compounding the drama, strange spirits and rolling drums bleeding into space.

Trelldom’s first record in 17 years not only is an unexpected and devious treat, but it’s also a much different world from them than what they established on their initial run. Everything on “…By the Shadows…” bleeds darkness and mystery, and the expanded sounds, the inclusion of saxophone, actually makes the music more unsettling, like a dark figure in the night whose intentions are unknown. This is a record that will feel alien to some, disturbing in different ways depending on the audience, and an enthralling piece of music that will continue giving into this year’s darkest months and beyond.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/Trelldom1992

To buy the album, go here: http://lnk.spkr.media/trelldom-shadows

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

Heavy metal made its biggest impact in the 1980s, and some of the factors that made it so powerful was its large scope and penchant for drama. Every record a band put out was another step ahead in ambition and creativity, and when progression was made and huge curves built into the road, it made it that much more enthralling.

Metal has changed a lot, and more emphasis is put on heaviness and brutality over trying to grow like an obelisk toward the sky. Yet, Texas-based dreamers Oceans of Slumber thrive on hugeness and increasing and stretching their sounds. Their new album “Where Gods Fear to Speak” is meant to be cinematic, literally, as it is a soundtrack to a movie that doesn’t actually exist, an apocalyptic tale that mixes poisonous religious tactics with a group of people that has risen up against it and is fighting back. This record sonically encompasses every era of this band’s sound, and it is noticeably heavier and more savage than their last couple albums. Yet, it’s still chock full of melody, world-class singing, and progressive death power as the band—vocalist Cammie Beverly, guitarist Chris Jones, guitarist/synth player Chris Kritikos, bassist Semir Ozerkan, drummer/piano player Dobber Beverly—pours every ounce of themselves into these 10 songs and 56 minutes that grab you from the first moment and refuse to let go.

The title track starts awash in darkness, Cammie’s singing pushing before growls retch and display ugliness, guitars churning as the pace sinks in its teeth. The plot soars and crushes, going cold for a moment before the guitars launch, synth whirs, and everything comes to a surreal conclusion. “Run From the Light” is punchy and heavy, ripping into flesh, grim howls mixing with Cammie’s dramatic highs. The playing mixes hardcore and black metal, the dual vocals pushing the emotions, the tempo laying waste as the soloing flows. Cammie reaches for the stratosphere, the temps cooling as rustic strains fade into time. “Don’t Come Back From Hell Empty Handed” runs 8:28, the longest track here, and a synthscape and atmospheric singing combine, energy pulsating as the building blocks are placed. A strong buzz mixes into warmth, playful keys and a theatrical touch adding a sense of fun, and then the heaviness caterwauls, rolling liberally in grit. Cosmic keys spread as wordless calls flutter, growls adding fiery tension, violence folding in with mud. “Wish” opens with just Cammie’s voice, guitars eventually joining and adding fury, power and catchiness luring you into the center. The drums hammer away as speed jolts the senses, Cammie calling, “A dream that’s just a dream and nothing more,” flowing into finality. “Poem of Ecstasy” starts with cinematic keys, singing glazing, the growls adding some ill will. Then guts are ripped from bellies, flowing with an intensity and charge that’s hard to hold to the side. “I’m waiting, save me from myself,” Cammie beckons, the elements coming together and melting into the ground.

“The Given Dream” basks in a synth shadow, the singing bellowing as bells chime, a pulsating center eventually exuding power. Strong singing flexes as the ambiance thickens, electro zaps filling minds with numbing light. “I Will Break the Pride of Your Will” has trembling keys and a tempo that suddenly charges, the singing standing in command as growls chew on guts. The bulk is assertive, but then a cooling agent is injected, keys making the frost feel insurmountable but also comfortable, the playing adding force you cannot hope to avoid. “Prayer” opens with keys simmering, and then the detonation levels bodies, scathing madness rushing full force into your bones. Moonspell’s Fernando Ribeiro lends his elegant pipes to this piece, and he and Cammie make for a perfect match. The playing shoves tectonic plates into different space, Cammie and Ribeiro combining to create a true force. “The Impermanence of Fate” has keys falling, the singing numbing, and the tempo buzzing and ripping open in force. Drama becomes a massive factor, Cammie leveling with, “I’ll never give in, I’m trying,” as an emotional surge coats with power that soothes nerves. The record closes with a cover of Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game,” and look, I’ve been pretty positive about this record, and for good reason. The world didn’t need another take on this song, and while this is a pretty strong stab at this and is supposed to be the end credits, it kind of feels like a strange ending to such an intense experience. It’s a minor qualm.

“Where Gods Fear to Speak” might sound alien in other times, but where we are now, these songs land hard as we prepare to defend our basic freedoms. Oceans of Slumber always has been a creative beast that’s poised to push metal elsewhere, but their commitment to heaviness and savagery also solidifies their commitment to their craft and style and the desire to keep things bloody. This band is awash in talent and can do things most artists can’t, and the fact their integrity and credibility continually defy expectations and always push to new heights should be enough to pack their followers’ hearts with faith.

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

To buy the album (North America), go here: https://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/

Or here (International): https://shop.season-of-mist.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.season-of-mist.com/