There are plenty of really good metal records that arrive each year that are worth your time and money. There’s a smaller subset of releases that are worthy of considering as that year’s best, those that rise above the onslaught of music that arrives during a 12-month period. Then there are the albums that sit in rarified air, music so powerful that is rises to a special level very few recordings ever achieve.

“The Stygian Rose,” the third record by Philly-based epic doom creators Crypt Sermon, is one of those that sits above the rest, a collection that has a comet-into-earth impact on first listen. It just ripples even harder each subsequent visit, and if you’re like me, there will be many of those. Over six tracks and 45 minutes, the band—vocalist Brooks Wilson, guitarists Steve Jansson and Frank Chin, bassist Matt Knox, keyboardist Tanner Anderson, drummer Enrique Sagarnaga—creates a story about an unnamed character inspired by Paschal Beverly Randolf, an American spiritualist and sex magician whose views on gender identity were well before his time. Here, the character longs to find his possibly dead/definitely lost female equal, who is believed to be waiting for him beyond in the hollow. It makes for a dramatic, breathtaking album that builds expertly, causing your heart to race with their passionate, classic serving of heavy metal that’ll stone you in your place.

“Glimmers in the Underworld” emerges from beyond, tearing open with sprawling doom and Wilson’s dramatic singing at an apex, calling, “I’ll die with my eyes open just to get a good look at hell.” Guitars erupt and flood over, energy jolting as the vocals get grimier, melting into the cold. The chorus swims through the murk, Wilson conjuring demons as he wails, “They’re right behind you through the black, black, black!” “Thunder (Perfect Mind)” feels humid, hazy leads stretching like lightning, the singing digging deeper into the dirt, Wilson singing, “As above, so below, there’s so much more to know.” The chorus fires up again as fiery playing erupts, glorious energy bustling as the keys leave an ice skid behind. “Down in the Hollow” is misty as it charges up, Wilson’s singing feeling both muscular and scathing, dark and ominous melodies working up your spine. The playing charges up as the fluid assault pulls you under, Wilson lashing, “They know my name, she knows my name,” as chugging punches leave deep wounds.

“Heavy Is the Crown of Bone” opens with hazy guitars, and then the pace chugs and thrashes, growing more epic in scope along the way. Glimmering guitars thicken the magical essence, and a simple chorus rouses and sticks to the bone, continually coming back for more, always sweeping with majestic lure. “Scrying Orb” is a standout track, much like “Christ Is Dead” from “The Ruins of Fading Light” or “Heavy Riders” from “Out of the Garden,” that one track that stands out above the rest and makes a case for one of the modern era’s best metal songs. The playing is mystical, pushing through darkened, web-tangled rooms, Wilson calling, “I know I should be more afraid, but I have come back for you.” The chorus is a killer and will stick in your head for days, Wilson singing, “I have heard the cries coming from the other side of the scrying orb.” Guitars fire up as the temperatures rise, coming to a dramatic, gothy end. The 11:10-long closing title track opens with piano dripping, the cosmos opening its jaws, dark guitars mixing with keys that leave an ominous glaze. “The black bloom will be restored,” Wilson insists, the guitars picking up and jarring anew, the melodies mixing with eerie fogginess. The power folds as the playing drives slower, the spirits rise, and everything fades into black.

The mysteries woven into “The Stygian Rose” and the top-notch playing elevate Crypt Sermon to the modern throne of epic doom metal with this, their finest hour. You can take on this album and ignore the messages entirely and still walk away completely fulfilled by a record that is a force of nature from front to back. If you delve into the words and their meanings, and you should, you get an even more full-bodied experience, an album that will stick with you not only the remainer of the year, but likely spanning your lifetime as a listener. This music is that transcendent.

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

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

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

Music should be a commitment for both the artist and the listener, as it forms a relationship that can enrich lives, salve wounds, and connect us to something greater. But we live in an era where people sample from streaming platforms more than ever, and that relationship to a record isn’t made quite as often as it used to be. We can drop in and drop out, no strings attached.

Metal listeners seem to be a different animal altogether, and the amount of bands that commit to epic-length songs and marathon records is plentiful. One of those is Jersey-based sludge/doom crushers Cowardice, who have not graced us with a full-length album in eight years. That ends with “Atavist,” an 11-track, 85-minute bruiser that does demand your time and energy and won’t just let you off easily after a track or two. The album is divided into two parts, “Suzerain” and “Sentinel,” that have slightly different personas but work perfectly to create a greater whole. The band—vocalist Mark Guiliano, guitarists Julian Cardazone and Nick Zwiren, bassist Stephen Edwards, drummer Chris Ward—is at the top of their game here, pouring all of their vitriol and power into this record that flies by and feels about half as long as it really is.

“To the Hilt of Humanity” opens the record and the “Suzerain” portion, dripping blackness before the heaviness arrives in droves, shrieks gutting amid melodic fog. The playing buzzes as the guitars numb, later soaring and taking on atmospheric sheen, lumbering as it adds bruising. Layers add textures, guitars surge and trudge, and ugliness burns into the ground. “Cloisters” emerges in a guitar cloud, pounding and boiling in melody, a beastly fury swimming into airy passages that cool the flesh. The leads quiver as guest vocalist Kate Parker’s singing adds new colors, elevating the already strong emotion into a tidal wave. “Panicle of Lowliness” is a quick instrumental piece that exists in shadows, guitars slinking and searching through the dark, leaving mystery behind. “Unforgeable Key” opens with drums echoing and the growls retching, clawing and slithering through the mud, doom glimmering during moody storms. The playing gets chunkier as the drums hit harder, the blistering pressure mounting, swimming even deeper into the murk, scraping across flesh, leaving blood trails behind. “Eastern Woodland Reverie” completely levels you right away, howls crushing before the playing gets colder, journeying through thickening weather, the strength reopening and getting deadlier. The atmosphere gazes and numbs, hellish howls belting out into the night, the sludge collecting before the temperatures drop again. The playing is elegant and easily obscures vision, flooding as everything is consumed by noise zaps. “Moss Stone” rounds out the first half, guitars hypnotizing, singing floating like a ghost, the brief track slowly disappearing into space.

“Clairvoyance Anxiety” begins the “Sentinel” portion, a darker beast that brings glowing leads, monstrous growls, and drubbing playing, a vile sentiment wrapped around every moment. Guitars add haze as the punches land harder, the playing tricking your mind, the howls decimating as the pace keeps pounding away. From there, the guitars catch fire and torch land, the heaviness growing more oppressive and laying waste. “The Diminutive Principle” slowly batters, the leads frying as they fold and burn into muddy waters. There’s a slight Western vibe to the melodies, guitars sliding as forceful howls erupt, lacerating as wounds flow openly. “Aphelion” is a glassy-eyed interlude, guitars making it feel like your legs are betraying you, your mind helplessly wandering into the darkest possible terrain. “Annulment” is dark and foreboding, Parker’s voice returning to haunt, the playing exploding as harsh wails enter the room. The force is massive and hulking, acidic gusts eating away at your flesh, ugly punishment having its way with your psyche. Drums combust as wrenching hell bubbles up to the surface, guitars lapping over bruising growls, drums encircling as echoes consume whole. Mammoth closer “Hail of Mages” runs 17:08 and makes the most of its time, developing slowly, thoroughly numbing, the growls ripping away at your muscles. The playing is stormy and battering, hypnotic guitars making your head spin, the drums coming unglued as every inch of this thing bristles. The pace gets deadlier as heavy blows take their toll, melodic lava spreads, and the final notes ring out into time.

“Atavist” is a record that demands your time and energy, and you will give up a plethora of both when committing to this journey. Luckily, it’s more than worth it as Cowardice serve a stunning display of sludgy doom that might not rewrite the book on this style but adds a steady and crucial element to this subgenre’s foundation. It aligns with all the personal darkness and torment in your mind and reminds you that you’re not alone, and that even though it’s part of your life, you can take hold of reality and bend it to your will.

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

To buy the album, go here:  https://cowardicedoom.bandcamp.com/album/atavist

Or here (US): https://riffmerchant.bandcamp.com/album/atavist

Or here (UK): https://www.burningworldrecords.com/collections/burning-world-records/products/cowardice-atavist-2lp-green-with-red-vinyl-pre-order

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

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

Most people have a limit, or at least that’s seemingly so. Most of us won’t take someone’s life if they cut in front of us on the road or take vital supplies that don’t belong to us or steal money from other people because we perceive these actions as being wrong. But people have been pushed beyond those limits, and depending on how far one goes, there could be little chance of turning back.

New Zealand-based death/black metal trio Ulcerate put that philosophy to the test when creating their seventh record “Cutting the Throat of God.” These seven tracks, while not a concept record, do combine to examine the idea of morality and when and why someone crosses the line into darkness. As we’ve come to expect from this band—bassist/vocalist Paul Kelland, guitarist Michael Hoggard, drummer Jamie Saint Merat—they deliver dense, cement-thick punishment over nearly 58 minutes. Pushing beyond reason, past one’s moral compass generally takes a pretty extreme circumstance for that to happen, and once we’re there, how do we pull back, if that’s even possible?

“To Flow Through Ashen Hearts” opens with guitars melting, dripping liquid steel, the roars crushing as the beastly flow gains muscle. Cagey and furious, the strength leaves ash, the atmosphere thickening as the playing gets tougher, wailing into colder waters, churning savagery, and railing to an abrupt finish. “The Dawn Is Hollow” emerges from steam, unloading with ferocity, tearing at flesh, the guitars making frayed nerves tingle. Alien sounds land as beastly heat rises, roars loosening bricks, the playing blasting away at everything, the gargantuan strength landing the final blows. “Further Opening the Wounds” is hazy at the start, and then the assault bursts, the playing stinging, the howls pounding away at you, rampaging and gaining steam. The roars crush bones, bludgeoning as the playing spits nails, trudging over ice and unforgiving terrain, the final moments flattening.

“Transfiguration In and Out of Worlds” is eerie and chilling, cold trickling and making your body shake uncontrollably, sooty howls echoing as the guitars sting and become even more aggressive. Cavernous sounds envelope as the power lands knife-edge chops, the drums mangling, numbing and surging, the guitars snaking through blood and into the light. “To See Death Just Once” swelters as the ground shakes, prodding and pounding, a hulking force eating across the land. Guitars smear as the heat wilts, turning into a more calming flow, lending solace before the fires consume again. Drums welt flesh as hell is unleashed, the leads jarring before burning off. “Undying as an Apparition” is melodic but mean, glazing as the roars crunch, weirdness thickening as the savagery comes to life. The playing is fluid but morbid, getting enthralling and immersive as you’re pulled into hell, the battering having its way and leaving you prone to further attacks. The title track closes the affair, emerging as a blunt force that snarls, stoking at the flames and ripping as the melodies curdle. The playing hits even harder, stabbing into the muck, blistering as the inhumane force weighs down violently, spiraling into savage growls, the force swelling as the smothering damage chokes you into submission.

“Cutting the Throat of God” is a title not to be taken lightly, as its force and intent are poisonous and force you to confront whatever line of morality you choose to draw for yourself. Ulcerate’s battering brand of death metal is a concoction truly their own, and they continue to challenge you to withstand their physical attack as you wrestle with the themes interwoven into the chaos. This is a record that forces you to confront your limits, what you’re willing to do step over that line, and the depravity and madness that accompanies this journey straight over the edge into hell.

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

To buy the album (North America), 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/

Humankind has done its fair share of damage to this planet, and there are a whole ton of people who don’t even think that’s true. They’re lied to by people with financial interest to continue ravaging the earth, and they don’t give a fuck about the people they duped, and that’s only a portion of the problem. Humans are greedy animals, and there’s very little chance that even can be changed.

That is unless we’re cheering on the extermination of life so that the earth can heal and other species and lifeforms can thrive without us poisoning the waters. Uh, literally. “Alienation Manifesto,” the new record from Thanatotherion, turns the torch on humanity, burning off this plague and paving the way for a different future. The band is the brainchild of Shelby Lermo (Vastum, Ulthar), known here as Ominous Droning, and this project grew out of its previous form as Naughtskeid. He wrote this record while undergoing chemotherapy and radiation for throat cancer in the fall of 2022, which ultimately was successful, allowing him to make this beast. The vitriolic nature in this dose of death and black metal is perfectly logical and unspeakably horrific, and having battled a potentially fatal disease only to watch people fall deeper into their own bullshit had to take its toll. Lermo is joined by drummer Jason Bursese (Black Fucking Cancer) on this record that burns the world to the ground only to pave the way for a healthier future without us.

“Red Cathedral” ignites, tricky playing and ravenous howls combining, guitars going off and creating a bloody hell. Smoke chokes as crazed and fiery playing takes hold, speed and scorching madness pushing, ripping to a finish. “The Raven and the Box of Stars” is eerie when is starts, steam pouring off each edge, demonic and crushing playing twisting your brain. Growls and shrieks unite to muddy the waters, a blazing assault taking off and ripping toward you, bludgeoning as synth glazes. A fantastical burst leads to a stab of brutality, devastating with a healthy mix of black and death metal. “Orb” is a strange interlude, a thickening aura built with dripping pianos and echoing noise, slipping out into the path of “Wilczyca.” The track drubs from the start, the vocals creaking as sounds flood, guttural and monstrous growls doing added damage. The leads ignite as horrifying strains get uglier, synth layers adding dramatic gasps, the playing mangling as horrors draw blood, heating up and disappearing into a vortex.

“Nuclear Womb” starts with whispers that quickly turn into shrieks, a gnarly path pounding away, a sudden force mixing with spindly guitars that make the room spin. Synth strikes as the blistering pace gets more intense, raspy howls melting in with tangling guitars that push to a ripping finish. “Lament” is a short instrumental built on a synth rope, zapping and buzzing, making the cosmos lower itself into our terrain, a strange aura and sci-fi-style keyboard fever dream increasing bodily temperatures. Closer “Codex Crepusculum” runs 11:52 and dawns amid doomy, alien waters, blasting as the howls pummel, the playing ravaging as the leads conjure magical smoke. Synth takes over and soars, and then the playing erupts with violence, the melodies soaring into the stars, the chaos then erupting from every seam. Poisonous clouds hover, and then the madness unloads, blistering and bruising flesh, vicious tendrils reaching into a mangling future.

As we watch the human experiment decay and devolve further into foolishness and avarice, it’s hard to feel sympathy, which Thanatotherion make abundantly clear on “Alienation Manifesto.” This is hell on earth, and the fact that Ominous Droning was suffering as his body was ravaged with disease is enough to make one’s disgust for humankind even more understandable. Surviving to remain in a world rife with selfishness and madness results in music this twisted and warped, a journey that will put you to the test physically and mentally.

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

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

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

Being a human itself is a daily gamble, a push and pull of influences and decisions that make up just about every second between waking and sleeping. On top of that, the causes we support, the actions we pursue, and the forces with which we align never are going to satisfy everyone, and those who fight back against power structures always will be painted as some sort of troublesome venture lazily painted as evil.

Long-running doom brawlers Thou know this very well, as they are a band that never has participated in digestible art, mainstream opinion, or compromising visions. On their thunderous sixth (and that number is arguable) primary release “Umbilical,” the band—vocalist Bryan Funck, guitarists Matthew Thudium and Andy Gibbs, guitarist/vocalist KC Stafford, bassist Mitch Wells, drummer Tyler Coburn—unleashes all of their vitriol, their passion, and their fire and plasters that all over 10 tracks and 49 minutes of unforgiving power. This band always will be recognizable upon first listen, and they are here, but there are other elements plastered over this work. The sludge thickens and bubbles even more, and there are strains of their unabashed love for grunge and straight up rock intertwined into the molten madness that floods this muscular monster.

“Narcissist’s Prayer” charges up from the start, Funck’s acidic howls barreling toward you, grimy heaviness increasing the pressure. The guitars jolt as sludgy power flattens, the ground quaking as the band doubles back and buries you in smoke. “Emotional Terrorist” is thick and heavy, the vocals smearing as a bruising chorus jars your face and jaw. The playing slowly batters as the menace increases, wrenching as the playing punishes slowly, burning off. “Lonely Vigil” is calculated as the guitars lather, the heat increasing and suffocating, the vocals searching through fiery chaos. The guitars feel like a heat ray before things suddenly go cold, buzzing and finally pulverizing once more. “House of Ideas” starts with whip cracks, and then the playing bludgeons, Funck’s barked howls eating through sinew, the volume adding muscular layers. Molten and sludgy, the playing then begins to pound more slowly, and atmospheric haze tightening its grip. “I Feel Nothing When You Cry” (this track is on a 7-inch with the vinyl, but up next on CD and digitally) has a ripping pace, something energetic and colorful, a heavy brawler but something a little different for Thou. Guitars lather as the track becomes a blistering force, drilling as the melodies thicken, the vocals feeling dangerously infectious, and the elements melting away.

“Unbidden Guest” also is on the 7-inch on the vinyl version, and it is a beast, the howls crushing and smearing, the corrosion becoming a greater factor, trudging through swampy heat. The energy ramps up as the screams sizzle, rippling out into devastation. “I Return as Chained and Bound to You” opens deep in a doom pit, crunching with a calculated pace, torturous fury becoming almost too much to withstand. The playing batters as the guitars light up, and the vocals maul amid a slowly clobbering assault that melts over flesh. “The Promise” bathes in feedback, and then a weirdly melodic attack takes place, Funck’s shrieks feeling catchier even as your muscles are bent in unnatural ways. Guitars stab as the chorus washes over you, feedback lapping acid, the drums destroying as they pace the carnage, a slurry, fiery gust submitting to a squall. “Panic Stricken, I Flee” opens with a strong riff, growing heavy as fuck as it develops, filthy guitars leaving a strange taste in your mouth. The roars are gargantuan as thrashy, vicious power strikes, the destruction going for the throat, and guitars glimmering before a smoking end. Closer “Siege Perilous” burns in place, noise buckling, guitars coating with muscular grit. The playing lumbers as the riffs snarl, bringing menace and mud, Funck’s howls lacerating limbs as the track rounds into sinewy hell, corroding into a disfigured beast.

“Umbilical” is a record that stands alone in the massive Thou resume, feeling like something fresh and more fiery, a renewed spirit that grew out of trying to find what place one has in the world and how we sort the things we do from what we want to do. Maybe those are the same things, and this band always reached out to the radicals, to the forsaken, to those on the fringes trying to figure out what existence means to them. This record might take some time to make its ultimate impact. But taking repeated journeys with this firebreather should reveal more each time you approach Thou’s endlessly burning torch as you let the burn drive you to find what it is you stand for.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.sacredbonesrecords.com/collections/frontpage/products/sbr342-thou-umbilical

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

It’s been eight long years since we last heard from Jersey-based doom crushers Cowardice, at least as far as full-length records are concerned. Yes, they’ve had some split releases and an EP, but their upcoming new album “Atavist” is an absolute monster of a piece of work, a double album hammering with 11 tracks over 84 minutes and split into two different parts. It’s an experience, and it’s mighty, and today we have a taste of it.

“Clairvoyance Anxiety” greets you into the second part of the record, and it’s a 10:26 battering ram. Crushing growls and a drubbing pace leave bruising all around, feeling otherworldly and vile. This is a beast that clenches and never relents until the time has run its course. Numbing, with gutting wails, and scorching leads that make the last third of the song smoke, this will give you a pretty good idea of what’s in store for you on “Atavist.” If you like slowly melting, sludgy doom served in longer form, then you’ll have a feast on which to engorge, you hungry weirdo. Song is below, and beneath that are links where you need to go to grab this fucker.

Oh. And we’ll have a full write-up on “Atavist” next week.

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

To buy the album, go here:  https://cowardicedoom.bandcamp.com/album/atavist

Or here (US): https://riffmerchant.bandcamp.com/album/atavist

Or here (UK): https://www.burningworldrecords.com/collections/burning-world-records/products/cowardice-atavist-2lp-green-with-red-vinyl-pre-order

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

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

I’ve never been in a mixed martial arts fight, and thank fuck for that, but I’ve seen plenty of them, and I’m constantly baffled at how people live through some of those things. I’ve hit my head off countless things before, which always sucks, but I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere near a trained fighter who can kick my brain into submission.

Taking on a record from Umbra Vitae often feels like being locked in the octagon as blow after vicious blow come flying at your head and body. Their malicious second full-length “Light of Death” is another dose of toxic death metal mixed with strains of hardcore, and over these 11 tracks and nearly 46 minutes, the band—vocalist Jacob Bannon, guitarists/vocalists Sean Martin and Mike Mckenzie, bassist/guitarist/vocalist Greg Weeks, drummer Jon Rice—turns the screws and makes the heat get to insurmountable levels. Not to mention this band that combines members of Converge, Tsjuder, the Red Chord, and others lay down a savage beating, one you only can hope to survive in one piece.

“Leave of Absence” starts with dissonant horns as guitars begin to char, the pace blistering as Bannon’s unmistakable howl leaves bruises. Speed is a factor as it mixes with hardcore-style stomps, ripping as guitars let lava flow, and the strings strike out. “Belief Is Obsolete” has riffs boiling, punchy and jarring playing lashing away, eventually trudging as the stiff wails draw blood. “Clear Cutter” is quaking and ravaging, the vocals killing, the playing splattering as wildness and muscular dexterity combine for a whipping. “Anti-Spirit Machine” brawls as Bannon’s raspy voice lacerates, swelling with hardcore brutality, steadily driving as the soloing spits fire. Guitars cut through even deeper as the thrashy goodness peaks, the repeat wails of, “Anti-spirit!” sounding like a rallying cry. “Reality in Retrograde” is fast and ferocious, the drums devastating, a machine-like efficiency accelerating the pain and the suddenness at which is strikes. “Past Tense” unloads with nasty howls, guitars traversing the scenery, a trickier display that spits nails and screws, coming to a blistering end. “Velvet Black” opens with clean singing, Bannon’s deep croon searching, the playing burning as it comes slower but just as heavy, hypnotic sounds dissolving and going silent. Bells chime as the pace roars back, the leads melt faces, and the final sounds of feedback ringing decimate your eardrums.

“Twenty-Twenty Vision” is a savage attack, storming and rattling, ripping through a fiery thrash assault. The vocals circle and split lips, the blazing terror driving to a fiery finish. “Algorithm of Fear” blasts with abrasive madness, howls mashing even as lighter tones take their turn. Then the assault is mounted anew, the vocals choking on smoke, churning and thrashing, hitting the gas pedal and approaching violent waves. “Empty Vessel” has leads fluttering and howls ravaging, at times feeling atmospheric, at others hinting that the world is burning to the ground. “Cause & Effect” starts with acoustics, and then the shrieks explode, the leads showing their teeth and threatening to sink into muscle. From there, the steam rises, vicious shouts mix in with the humidity, and everything burns off into exhaust. “Deep End” is relentless, striking with a passion, gutting with terrifying growls that thirst for carnage, defacing in a pit of ashen thrash. “Nature vs. Nurture” is steely, yet bludgeoning, the vocals trading off and leaving blisters, the playing feeling rubbery but also brutal. Riffs light up as the pace manages to go even harder, smoldering as the soloing erupts and torches everything on front of it. “Fatal Flaw” is blinding, vocals crushing, guitars mounting a burning attack. The drums blister as the shouts open veins, the start/stop viciousness disappearing into a sea of skronking sax. The closing title track lathers with brutality, dizzying and crunching, the guitars slaying with metallic madness. The playing clouds the senses as blow after blow aim to take you down, Bannon wailing, “There’s no escape!” as the cacophony disappears into horns, finishing the ouroboros effect from the opener.

“Light of Death” is a whirlwind display for Umbra Vitae, a devastating collection that gives you almost no time to breath, no chance to take cover because the chaos is coming for you. This is a great step up for this band, who didn’t really need to level up but did anyway, and this is a punishing, channeled affair that’ll take your head off. This is a storm you won’t mind riding to the end because, although there are neck-jerking twists and turns and blistering winds, conquering these 15 tracks will fill your bloodied body with fiery glory.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://deathwishinc.com/collections/umbra-vitae

Or here (Europe): https://deathwishinc.eu/collections/umbra-vitae

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

Evolution is a thing that has a strange relationship with humanity. There are those who do not believe in it, no matter what scientific evidence you put in front of them, and those who embrace it for what it is. You can just look back in history and see how we’ve all changed and advanced, or on our own lives to see how different we are as humans compared to how we were when we were younger.

Insect Ark, a project long helmed by Dana Schechter, is the perfect example of the evolutionary theory just by witnessing their fourth full-length “Raw Blood Singing.” The most obvious change is the presence of Schechter’s vocals for the first time, adding an alluring element to the band’s music that fits seamlessly. But beyond that, the songs are more full-bodied and active, not that the band’s previous work wasn’t, but this is just a marked step up in texture and character. Schechter, who also handles bass, lap steel guitar, synthesizers, and piano, is joined by new drummer Tim Wyskida (Khanate, Blind Idiot God) as well as guests Ville Leppilahti (Oranssi Pazuzu) and Colin Marston (Krallice, who also mixed the album) to create this new vision that lurks in different corners and shadows.

“Birth of a Black Diamond” is a quick, cosmic opener that warbles and floats amid the clouds, washing into “The Frozen Lake” where doomy, noisy strains send jolts down the spine. Schechter’s singing enters, adding an interesting, smoky element to the band’s music, the ominous melodies mixing in with slide guitars, the fog thickening. Dreary darkness is coated with mist, sounds echoing and drubbing, blurring out into time. “Youth Body Swayed” angles into immersive keys, aching singing, and melodies drizzling, the shadows thickening around everything. Distorted calls mix with guitars that bathe in ash, eeriness and moodiness making for a thicker atmosphere. “Cleaven Hearted” enters amid playing swirling, strummed guitars echoing, a nightmarish void spreading over the body of the track. Griminess gathers as keys trickle to the ground, guitars tracing patterns in the air, the playing shimmering and slowly fading.

“The Hands” is dark and foreboding, Schechter calling, “We will never be free.” The emotional thickness picks up as spacey synth moves through the atmosphere, slide guitars calling with mysterious intent, fading into the stars. “Psychological Jackal” scrapes as the guitars cloud the senses, the singing plodding as nighttime takes a greater hold. A deep Western vibe comes alive, making it feel like walking the outskirts of the desert at night, the guitars chugging and squalling, sounds dripping psychological warmth. The playing buzzes and sweeps from there, settling into echoes. “Inverted Whirlpool” is an instrumental that spins, humid guitars thickening the air, dreamlike melodies making you see mysterious visions. The smoke builds, only letting thin lasers cut through, cosmic heat continuing to generate as synth turns into alien textures. Closer “Ascension” spits static into dark folds, the sounds rolling through the clouds, the murk threatening. An angelic haze spreads its reach, bristling and sinking, bleeding into world beyond.

“Raw Blood Singing” shows Insect Ark in a form we’ve never seen them in before, and it has more to do with there being vocals included now. The playing and the themes are richer and more developed than ever before, and it feels like a different beast walking the earth on this album. This is a rebirth for a band that already was operating on a high level, and where they go from here is anyone’s guess as their metamorphosis seems to be just beginning.

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

To buy the album (North America), 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/

“Mental wounds not healing,” is one of the most recognizable lyrics in the history of heavy metal, and one of its most powerful. So many of us can relate to this line, feel it in our cores, and struggle with that reality every day that living becomes surviving, and trying to find solace or enjoyment can be a fruitless effort. It’s a darkness that refuses to leave.

Over the course of a decade and a half, Pallbearer have been at the forefront of melodic, melancholic doom metal, releasing four records that have changed the shape of the sound and helped this style explode. Their fifth record “Mind Burns Alive” certainly has most of the tenets of the band’s previous albums, but there is a lot more going on here. The songs are even more immersive, the emotion deeper in a way that addresses the aforementioned mental struggles these songs share as a theme, and even delve into progressive waters deeper than ever before. The band—vocalist/guitarist/synth player Brett Campbell, guitarist/vocalist Devin Holt, bassist/synth player/vocalist Joseph D. Rowland, drummer Mark Lierly—sounds passionate and earnest as they unfurl these six gems, entering into the minefield that is mental illness and the struggle to make it through the day.

“Where the Light Fades” opens with guitars circling and gentle singing, the sounds so hushed you might be tempted to turn up the volume. Don’t, as it’s by design and plays into the soft/loud dynamic. “Maybe we could fly, but we never learned to grow our wings,” Campbell calls mournfully, synth zapping through as the pace picks up. Guitars heat as things turn moodier and darker, the emotion burning away. The title track opens burlier, doomier, with leads lathering and the singing adding texture. “My mind has been ignited, I can feel it burning down,” Campbell sings, a feeling quite familiar to any anxiety sufferers. Softer sounds float and immerse, sullen leads pulling into thornier territory, a gaze washing over and dissolving into the earth. “Signals” brings slow, softer playing, the emotion bursting over the chorus, the fog ever thickening. “Searching for a way to survive the weight of your life,” Campbell levels, dark, sorrowful melodies flooding and overwhelming.

 “Endless Place” runs 10:38, and it starts in acoustics before the playing pounds harder, Campbell noting, “So, here I am, lost in a maze.” Spacious leads surround, and then the temperatures drop, pushing deeper into a cavern as the singing soars, and a smooth sax enters, adding steamy spaciness to the atmosphere. The breeziness rouses as the playing begins to pound harder, adding glimmering notes that drive to the finish. “Daybreak” seems to embody its title at first, dawning majestically, gradually, the singing soothing before the power kicks in. Then, the heaviness settles, the leads growing and basking in deep sunshine, energy coursing through your veins before the jolts subside briefly, new bursts meeting you on the other side. “With Disease” is the 10:35-long closer, beginning with guitars trickling before punches land, leads adding heat, and the singing spreading its wings. Fiery soloing unloads as the pressure increases, coarse blasting makes your muscles ache, and that all melts into a gloomy gaze. The playing blasts back and trudges, the power hitting a crescendo before mixing into starlight.

“Mind Burns Alive,” to me anyway, is a grower. It didn’t have the instant impact previous Pallbearer records have had, but as I spent more time with it, its power, messages, and music fully enraptured, making it one of the most interesting and personal of their records so far. Perhaps some of that comes from my own mental suffering and ability to relate, and as the playing continues to reveal itself, it turns into a portrait I more closely understood, one that makes for a companion to rely on in times of darkness.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://pallbearer.bfan.link/mind-burns-alive

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

It’s easy to fall into an endless cavern of despair and pain, and it’s just as simple to be overtaken by all of the negativity and sorrow as both can be overwhelming forces that can devour you whole. But it’s not impossible to overcome that, and fighting back from the pit of hopelessness is a sign of strength and perseverance one should embrace.

Glyph is a one-man black metal force helmed by vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Keeper of the Glyph, and the project’s excellent new record “Odes of Wailing, Hymns of Mourning” tells you a lot upfront about what the music contains. But like we said in the opening, even amidst so much darkness and sadness, triumph still can be present by trying to fight back against the chaos. Without knowing what informed the album, the music gives clear access to all of those areas, the dark and the light, and the melodies and driving emotions contained within the record easily can set one’s heart and mind ablaze. Yes, the mental heaviness has weight, but so does the surging power that can help you rise above the madness and live to fight another day. And another one beyond that in perpetuity.

“Of the Caverns” opens with sounds gushing, shrieks hammering away as the tornadic gust keeps gaining steam. The playing blisters as other colors blend into the mix, howls echoing as if in a cavern, effusive melodies picking up and spiraling into oblivion. “Man Has Succumbed to Madness” brings churning guitars, vicious howls, and a tempo that batters, rushing hard around folds and bends. The leads tangle as the cries bury you under rubble, everything encircling in an unforgiving storm. “All Anger and Hatred Manifesting” is humid to start, hypnosis stretching its pull, the screams crushing, a brief halt leading to all elements bleeding out and back in and fully mesmerizing. Nerve endings tingle as the center point tears opens again, savage cries reverberate as the bass pulses, and murk swallows everything whole. “Descending the Loam” is numbing as it starts, and then it begins to unload, riffs entrancing as the chaos blasts, trudging through a mauling gaze. Everything blisters before a frozen gaze hovers, the freezing ambiance pulling over steady cries and a snaking aura that jabs away.

“A Most Unwholesome Interaction” serves up frothy melodies and crushing growls, the blood feeling like it is retreating from your extremities. Shrieks ripple as the bass playing quakes the earth, a gush of infectious power getting into your bloodstream, battering at the same time until the lights go out. “The Unfortunate Gentleman in Question” opens as icy black metal, guitars jabbing as the howls cause brush burns, the slippery bass work icing mental wounds. The playing cascades as the leads strike and coat veins with salt, leading into heavy riffs that usher in a crushing end. “To Lose What We Have Learned” starts with ominous leads, the frost again becoming a factor, the vocals lashing at flesh as the tempo crushes. Speed injects more energy as an entrancing presence looms, melodic leads hurtling into the sky. Closer “Between Ghost and Gloom” arrives with sorrowful riffs and an eruption that spits rock through the air, mauling and glimmering. The glow gets more penetrating as a new eruption spews lava, emotional waves blazing toward your heart, the fires raging one more time before abruptly fading.

It’s impossible to experience “Odes of Wailing, Hymns of Mourning” and not feel it in every cell of your being, as Glyph has been a project into which all of its creator’s blood and guts are spilled generously. The pain and triumph both are there and palpable, and once the music comes to an end, you’ll feel like you’ve gone through a full emotional journey. This is a record that takes hold of you and pulls you along all of the twists and turns physically and psychologically, leaving you more calloused for the better.

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

To buy the album (vinyl), go here: https://shapeofstormsrecords.bandcamp.com/album/glyph-odes-of-wailing-hymns-of-mourning

Or here (CD): https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/

Or here (cassette): https://weregnomerecords.bandcamp.com/album/odes-of-wailing-hymns-of-mourning

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

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

And here: https://weregnomerecords.bandcamp.com/