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

Last week, I spent hours in the relentless heat and sun helping dear friends move into a new apartment that should be a fresh start for them. That said, carrying heavy boxes up stairs in a warm hallway for hours has taken a physical toll on me, and it’s a massive reminder I’m not a young man any longer. I don’t recover like I used to in the past.

Progressive death metal dreamers Vile Rites named their first full-length “Senescence,” the process of physical deterioration that occurs as a person ages. Sure, you can exercise or do other activities to help slow that decline, but it’s going to catch up with you some day. It’s an odd title for a record that’s so full of exciting new ideas, spacey expansion, and pushing death metal even further into jarring waters that wash over you with chilling fury, the furthest thing from losing power and stopping growth. The band—vocalist/guitarist Alex Miletich; bassist/synth player/field recording master Stephen Coon; drummer Aerin Johnson—treads paths once trampled by the likes of Morbus Chron and Blood Incantation, but in their own way that’s unique to them. This is the first glimpse of a band that’s bound to be one of the sub-genre’s great creators for a long time to come.

“Only Silence Follows” opens amid cold notes, hypnosis setting in, which is a hint of what’s ahead. The bass bends as the hammering picks up, the soloing erupting as the growls dig into flesh. Cosmic synth wraps you in a coat of stars as speed becomes a greater factor, ripping out into the stars. “Senescent” is tricky and crunchy when it starts, heavy blows landing with force, drubbing and causing dizzying feelings. The playing pulls back and adds a chill to the air, fluid leads take off and create a laser effect, techy melodies flex muscles. The bass quivers as the sounds turn on a dime, ending in progressive waters. “Shiftless Wanderings” buzzes and engorges, the bass again exuding power, the growls mangling as the riffs soar through the air. Soloing boils as the tempo thrashes hard, the playing growing in urgency, growls tearing strips of flesh as chaos melts into tributaries.

“Ephemeral Reverie of Eroded Dreams” in an eerie interlude that has alien tentacles and icy intent, strange synth and soaked guitars making it feel like you’ve been drenched in an all-day storm. “Transcendent Putrefaction” has the bass chewing into muscle, keys wooshing, and heavy body blows aiming to take you down. Growls engorge as the temperatures shift to a deep freeze, the guitars erupting and letting carnage reign, beastly howls and gutting death smearing psychosis. Closer “Banished to Solitude (Adrift on the Infinite Waves)” is the longest track, running 11:11, and the track blasts and contorts, sudden brutality slashing as progressive fires are fed gallons of fuel. The vocals scar as the decimation continues, the drums pasting with violence, whispering chilling as the playing calms. Bludgeoning madness arrives as the sounds bathe in moonlight and blood, hazy, moody guitars melting time and encircling the clouds.

Vile Rites’ progressively minded death metal is a refreshing gust of energy, and while “Senescence” may be named after a process of physical deterioration, it feels like the band is just beginning a life cycle that could begin to rewrite this style’s DNA. This first full-length builds off what they created before and demonstrates a tenacity and musical violence that is enthralling the first listen and only multiplies from there. This is one of the best debuts of the year so far, and I can only imagine what this band will sound like a half decade from now once they full grow into their forms.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://carbonizedrecords.com/search?q=vile+rites&options%5Bprefix%5D=last

Or here (Europe): https://carbonizedrecordseu.com/

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

Death is one of the few certainties in life, and we’re all touched by its dark hand in many ways, be that losing friends and family or facing the scythe ourselves. Wrapped into all of that is the emotional response, the sadness and depression that result from losing a loved one or when dealing with our own demise. It’s hardly uplifting times.

UK doom crushers Blind Monarch head straight into that soberingly morbid territory on their great second record “The Dead Replenish the Earth,” a four-track, 43-minute beast that digs hard into tragedy and the aftermath of the death of a loved one. The band—vocalist Tom Blyth, guitarist Adam Blyth, bassist Paul Hubbard, drummer Sam Elsom—doesn’t shy away from confronting and acknowledging these feelings and the horrible pit of sorrow and grief that comes with parting ways forever with someone you hold dear. The gutting sadness, the storm of depression, and the seemingly never-ending agony that results from that, or from knowing your own fate is near, create a helpless trip through hell that feels like it’ll never end. For some, it never does.

“Other Faces” dawns amid wild howls as doom drops, the playing carving into mountains. Growls engorge as the playing splatters, the force feeling like a battering ram, demonic melodies ripping through chest cavities. The corrosion calms as the noise simmers, and then a gargantuan force weighs down, buzzing and pulverizing, burying itself into the earth. “Diminishing” starts quietly, plodding into the dark, the growls curdling as a slow fury begins to boil. The playing then chugs and smashes, guitars quivering as the gears choke in mud, eerie darkness stretching its massive wings. The pace rips open as growls lurch, a scorching pressure gets heavier, and the massacre sinks its teeth dangerously deep.

The title track starts with retching vocals, slowly twisting your gears, ugly hell flooding and thrashing with a deliberate pace. Moodiness thickens as a haze glimmers, growls crushing with savage force, glacially destroying everything with the misfortune of being in the band’s path. Closer “All Shall Pass Away” begins as a clean, chilling display, but it’s not too long before mangling blades are drawing blood, gory howls adding to the body count. The playing drubs hard, crushing with calculated force, the oncoming heat baking with ill intent. Things take a mournful turn even as melodies sweep, punching away and chipping teeth, clean guitars melting as the force bows out into eternity.

“The Dead Replenish the Earth” is a massive, devastating listen, and that’s only when taking the music into account. Digging into the themes of death, loss, and depression adds a world of weight to what’s already impossibly heavy, and these are very human experiences and emotions we all face. It’s not meant to be comfortable, and it’s better that it’s not, because facing sobering reality scars can make us stronger as a result.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.drycoughrecords.com/products

Or here: https://vaultofheaven.bandcamp.com/

Or here:  https://www.minorlabel.de/label/obscur.htm

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

I’m certain I’d never survive an encounter with Colin Robinson, he being the energy vampire on “What We Do in the Shadows” who feeds off people’s energy by boring them into oblivion. As it is, I have limited amounts of power, and the more I do, the further activities I add to my to-do list, and it’s curtains for me. Colin would drain me in no time.

I thought of that scenario when considering what to say about “Enervate,” the latest long player from one-man drone doom instrumental power Celestyn. Helmed by Ted Bizon, also of black metal crushers Orphaned, this three-track album digs into what this creator does best, which is make your mind and body buzz with his slow-driving, psychologically altering creations that ground you. The title refers to a word that means to lessen someone’s vitality or strength, hence my Colin mention, though the music doesn’t really do that. I speak for me here, but it got into my blood and radiated my nerves, almost having an invigorating effect that injects energy and gets the juices flowing. Also, this is right up my alley, so the impact it has on me might not be universal to all listeners.   

“Damp” is the 16:11-long opener, starting with guitars melting, the pace moving slowly as drone emerges and noise scalds. Melodies continue to rise as the heat increases, guitars ramping up as the playing spills over the edges. An electric storm hovers as guitars tremble, the playing smothers, and everything vibrates to an end. “Respite From the Moil” drills and buzzes, your guts shaking inside your body, melodies emerging as the riffs numb nerve endings. Strangeness emanates from blinding colors that seem out of a technicolor dream state, clouds accumulating as drone laps, lava flowing from the corners. Closer “Purify the Door of Perception” runs 13:13, weather patterns hanging overhead, the cosmic void floating at your reach, electricity jetting through veins. The emotion floods to the surface as your bones rattle, high-pitched noises piercing, your ears going numb from the energy. Guitars bubble and char as you’re stretched to your limit, the sounds fading to oblivion.

“Enervate” is full of blinding energy and noise that gets inside your brain and rewires it for good measure. Celestyn’s Bizon certainly has been busy this year (five releases of varying size), and this is another great building block for his sound that washes over you and infects you with energy that feels like it came from another world. This is mood music for those with darkened minds who could use some noise and numbness to help dial back the manic feelings.

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

To buy the album or for more on the label, go here: https://riffmerchant.bandcamp.com/

When I was a kid, old Godzilla movies used to play on the television Saturday afternoons, the grainy Japanese movies both capturing my imagination and scaring the shit out of me because what if a kaiju rose and destroyed my town? As I got older, I continued to enjoy these tales of great beasts even as a lot of the newer movies were diminishing returns.

Pacific Northwest death metal monsters Oxygen Destroyer, named after the weapon that killed Godzilla in the original 1954 film, took their love of kaiju films even further by using them as an influence for their records. Their latest and third long player is “Guardian of the Universe,” the subtitle for the initial film of the Gamera trilogy, released in 1995. This nine-track, 33-minute beast follows the events of each of the three pictures, the other two being “Attack of Legion” in 1997 and “Revenge of Iris” in 1999. The band—vocalist/guitarist Lord Kaiju, guitarist Joey Walker, bassist Paul Wright, drummer Chris Craven—pours their volcanic best into this record, ripping through you like a gigantic monster hellbent on tearing every building in their reach into a hellish pit of destruction.

“Guardian of the Universe (The Final Hope)” begins as terror strikes, the band thrashing viciously and leaving bruises, howls rippling through the earth. The playing turns vicious and furious, mangling and leaving blows, the growls pummeling as the final moments tear flesh. “Drawing Power from the Empathetic Priestess of Tranquility” starts as Gamera wails, the playing pulverizing as the punishment is turned up to insane levels, the playing spattering as the soloing scorches, and a blinding solo brings this shorter cut to an end. “Shadow of Evil” crunches as the band mounts a death attack, coming unhinged as the devastation spreads. The playing tears limbs from bodies, the guitars exploding with menace as the final moments utterly flatten. “Thy Name is Legion” is speedier as the playing slashes, mauling as total demolition arrives, stomping and charging through thrashy fire. The leads blaze as the growls intensify, creaking as the playing tears guts out of midsections with no mercy at all.

“Eradicating the Symbiotic Hive Mind Entity from Beyond the Void” is heavy, fast, and chunky, howls wrenching muscles as the violence steadily increases. The heat intensifies as does the tempo, with everything cosmically sucked into the void. “Nightmarish Visions of the Devil’s Envoy” is another quick one, unloading with volcanic fury, the guitars glazing as a thrashy assault flexes, ravaging to a sudden death. “Awaking the Malevolent Destroyer of the Heavens and Earth” opens with a clip from “Revenge of Iris” before the punishment gets under way, gurgly growls bubbling to the surface as the journey enters hyper speed, smashing with melodic devastation, the gears grinding to a mechanical end. “Banishing the Iris of Sempiternal Tenebrosity” stomps, shrieky howls lacerating, the leads spiraling dangerously. Things turns uglier, fires spitting, monstrous howls lashing away, bleeding out into an energy field. “Exterminating the Ravenous Horde of Perpetual Darkness and Annihilation” closes the journey, unloading with a burly attack, melodies ravaging as the guitars turn toward technical fireworks. Shrill shrieks send chills down your spine, beastly cries ravage, and digital corrosion consumes everything whole.

You don’t need to have seen the Gamera trilogy for “Guardian of the Universe” to have a smashing impact on you, as Oxygen Destroyer have a way of making their metallic force pummel you no matter what. But you’ll get a little more out of the hidden gems on the record, and the skull-splitting bursts woven into the songs will hit that much harder. Either way, this is a giant serving of thrash-infested death metal that is kaiju sized and promises to level everything within your grasp.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), 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.redefiningdarkness.com/

The presidential election in the United States is coming up this November, and it’s an easy cause for anxiety when considering the possibilities for even a second. The Republican party is using, among other disgusting tactics, immigration as a means for firing up their base with their minions chanting “send them back” at campaign rallies. Yeah, these are the people of the alleged Jesus, a character they don’t understand.

Respire, a band that’s stretched across the U.S. and Canada, focused their excellent new record “Hiraeth” on immigration and the plight of people who are trying to find a better life for their families. Yet, their plight takes them from one path of hostility to another as humans continue to find ways to be inhospitable and cruel to others. It’s also a warning to those people who remain put and flaunt their perceived privileges over others who just want to live in peace. The band—Egin Kongoli –(vocals, guitar, synthesizer, piano), Rohan Lilauwala (vocals, guitar), Darren Scarfo (vocals, guitar), Travis Dupuis (vocals, drums), Ben Oliver (bass), Eslin McKay (vocals, violin, viola), Emmett O’Reilly (vocals, trumpet)—is a strange amalgamation of volcanic black metal, sweeping post-rock, and classic indie rock, making for one of the more interesting forces in heavier music. This album could have a widespread appeal on a number of audiences as it contains many different influences, and the subject matter is a human one that could use far more compassion from others.

“Keening” starts with a gasp of strings and birds chirping, the playing feeling breezy and stimulating before the howls arrive and deliver menace. The playing continues to rouse amid the carnage, horns calling, an adventurous pace pushing blood through your veins, giving off a trippy indie rock feel. “The Match, Consumed” starts as animalistic black metal, snarling and pounding, growls rushing to the surface. Melodies then emerge from underneath, group singing rousing, the strings gliding, slipping into “Distant Light of Belonging” that awakens with chimes, strings, and the sound of crowd noise. The pace gets burly as grim growls slash, group wailing building as the pressure gets darker. Shrieks then rain down, horns pushing gloriously, the music flowing into “First Snow” where keys fall like flakes, the guitars rising along with the singing. The playing then rips open and scorches, the scathing warning of, “You can’t escape,” adding to your spiraling emotions, the playing continuing to corrode as everything fades in static. “Home of Ash” brings jolting guitars and a mix of harsh and gang vocals, the playing gutting fully. Calm then washes over as the horns ache, howls stretching before a fresh eruption, beastly cries battling with renewed energies, blurring out into mystical air.

“Voiceless; Nameless” opens with strings gliding, howls burying emotions in rubble, and the playing slowly melting into the ground. The tempo gradually pushes back, horns streaking as the keys slip into time. “The Sun Sets Without Us” dawns with active guitars bubbling, shouts and shrieks getting the blood rushing, and eventually a cold front entering, bringing down the temperature. “It won’t get better before it gets worse, tomorrow always felt like home,” rouses as a group call, howls reemerging and mangling with force, the gushing playing fading into “We Grow Like Trees in Rooms of Borrowed Light” that has strings layering and more soundscapes from the street. Then the adrenaline bursts, bouncing off walls like an At the Drive In attack. Doom falls even as glorious horns glaze with power, mashing and wrenching, the pace leaving ample bruising as ugliness pushes through any sense of serenity. “Do The Birds Still Sing” dawns amid a doomy haze, crazed yells stinging as the strings surge, the playing ripping apart at the seams. Energy spikes as the playing trudges, the vocals punch, and the final embers burn into closer “Farewell (In Standard)” that bask in strings and horns, group singing awakening your spirit. “Don’t cry if this is goodbye,” feels both sad and hopeful, the keys trickling as all voices merge, easing into eternal calm.

“Hiraeth” is a calling out and embrace for those who have had to leave their homes to find a better way of life, and the 10 tracks Respire commit to this record are full of emotion, heart, and compassion. This band’s unique mix of sounds is a sort of visitor, and a welcome one, to extreme music circles, and what they bring is a welcoming mat to those who have other ambitions besides always being battered with decibels. That opening of arms is both a theme the record hammers home and a reminder that being heavy encompasses more than just the sound as the messages contained within are just as impactful.

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

To buy the album (worldwide), go here: https://www.dinealonestore.com/products/respire-hiraeth

Or here (U.S.): https://persistentvisionrecords.com/products/respire-hireath-lp-persistent-vision-exclusive-variant

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

Slasher films had an apex in the late 1970s and 1980s, and while the genre of movies survives and thrives to this day, what came out in this timeframe could be seen as perverse and often offensive. But, I mean, these are movies about deranged maniacs killing people, and while there were troublesome elements, at the end of the day, THESE ARE FILMS ABOUT MURDER!

I say that as we prepare to discuss Italian death metal destroyers Fulci and their ripping fourth record “Duck Face Killings.” The band, that takes its name from legendary slasher film director Lucio Fulci, concentrates on his 1982 movie “The New York Ripper,” which is about a deranged killer with a duck-like voice slaying women in the most perverse manner possible. Yes, it is a pretty misogynistic film, as were most of the horror movies of this style at that time, and it is known as one of the most shocking and reviled of its era. The band—vocalist Fiore Stravino, guitarists Dome Diego and Ando Ferraiulo, bassist Klem Diglio, drummer Edo Nicoloso—creates this 14-track monster as a soundtrack for the film, dressing every stab, every river of blood with death metal terror, with some unexpected sonic surprises awaiting you along the way.

“Vile Butchery” tears into prone necks, gargantuan growls feeling delivered by a blood-thirsty throat, slowing into filth. The guitars gain steam as the pace punishes, spilling into “A Blade in the Dark,” a quick instrumental with steamy sci-fi synth, electro pulses, and eerie playing, slamming into “Fucked With a Broken Bottle” that reflects a gruesome plot point. The playing erupts as the growls puke menace, hazy guitars adding some humidity before brutality fires up and engages. The drums crush as the chunky playing feels like swallowing glass, ending in a gory fury. “Morbid Lust” punishes with scathing violence, heavy growls boiling and gurgling. Dual leads then unite as the tempo trudges, ugly thrash bowing to the unknown. “Maniac Unleashed” enters amid throaty howls and a battering ram of a force, the leads catching fire and snagging flesh. The growls add a sense of nausea, the guitars glazing and leading to a numbing end. “Knife” ices with drizzling guitars, and then rapping from Lord Goat (of Brooklyn-based hip-hop act Non Phixion) turns your head, growls melting, and guitars adding heat to the mix. “Slashereality” is brutal, thick growls laying waste, the speed suddenly and solidly blistering. The leads squeal, and then morbid howls greet you, chilling your flesh as Stravino wails, “You will die.”

“Human Scalp Condition” brings fast guitars and deep growls, the playing digging deep into guts, then everything pulls back as bones are stomped to dust. Stravino retches as the brakes are slammed, tire tread devouring limbs. The title track is menacing, the drums encircling and searching, deep growls squeezing your throat, the playing charging with violent intent. Guitars add thick atmosphere, and then foggy, numbing sounds rain down, the ambiance oddly dissolving into warmer waters. “Rotten Apple” erupts with the choking quacking sounds of the film’s deranged killer, a hardcore-influenced stomp opening wounds, gang shouts feeling like exposed fists to the face. “She begs for her life, it’s too late,” Stravino wails, meaty savagery sending the song to its final resting place. “Sadistic Murder” brings quaking drums, bloody, gurling growls, and the goddamn duck sounds slashing anew. Gutting death smears plasma, and a battering finish stabs an exclamation point on the end. “Lo Squartatore” is a strange, unsettling interlude with our killer again gracing us with his hideous voice, screams and horror slashing toward “Stabbed, Gutted and Loved” that is awash in brutality. Growls maul as the leads simmer, the stinking summer heat making breathing difficult and unpleasant. Guitars hypnotize as the growls carve bone, dissolving into steam. Closer “Il Miele Del Diavolo” is quite the outro, keys leaving sheets of ice, mystical clouds gathering, the sax sinking in and adding to that desperate call of the city, disappearing into the thick, unsettling night.

“Duck Face Killings” is a manic, splattering record inspired by one of the most ruthless, violence slasher films of the 1980s, and Fulci capture the scummy bloodshed with their mind-twisting death metal. Anyone who has been aboard for the band’s previous records won’t be shocked at all, as this is the type of thing this force has been up to from the start. For the uninitiated, this is death metal a bit more deranged and gory than you might expect, armed with songs from a film known as one of horror’s most despicable.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/collections/fulci

For more on the label, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/