Any music that makes me feel like I’m hurtling through space on a craft that is unlike anything we know on this earth always is going to be welcome in my collection. You don’t need mind-altering substances, though they help, in these types of situations because the music and the ambiance are all you really need to get there.

Long-running psyche doom warriors Ufomammut always nail the intergalactic sweet spot, and on their 10^th record “Hidden,” they manage to open up new portals we’ve yet to encounter. Over six sprawling tracks and 45 minutes, the band—vocalist/bassist/synth player Urlo, guitarist Poia, drummer Levre, sound master Ciccio—stretches the possibilities of what doom can be, and while it’s not wildly different from their other nine record and slate of smaller releases, there’s still a sense of freshness packed inside. It’s a dream that has its rocky moments but always leaves you numb and electrified.

“Crookhead” bursts open, cosmic heat building, drubbing as alien singing spreads, numbing as the fuzz collects and drags you deep into chilling outer space. The haze spreads generously before erupting into fire, spilling over dangerously and mixing with punchy electronic pulses that eventually land within the stars. “Kismet” sizzles as the singing surges, muddy power accelerating, folding in burly playing and cosmic dust, the bass thickening. Guitars scorch as the tempo burns, the singing numbs as they achieve a desert ambiance, spiraling past worlds you never could hope to visit. “Spidher” chars as the singing belts, flattening with a heavier push, the howls scarring as the humidity increases. The playing crushes as things get faster and more aggressive, the band pounding your flesh into a bloody pile before finally relenting.

“Mausoleum” bristles with sonic pulses, the singing numbing as the playing flattens and then works into more of a mid-tempo sprawl. The keys numb as cosmic zaps whip by your head, the bass chugging as the singing feels like a transmission from a long-lost dimension. The pace appears to freeze before lava bursts through the surface, the playing slicing through muscle, the singing floating in a cloud before disappearing into black sky. “Leeched” has chugging riffs and a forceful melody that rolls in mud, the singing scorching as a burly low end bruises your flesh. The smoking doom gets more penetrating, the doom spiraling into corrosion, synth zapping as your brain is baked, and we leak right into closer “Soulost.” Frigid and bathing in echo, the singing pulls you into the center of a psychedelic dream, the guitars bathing in druggy waters. Fires then rage as the sounds fry, filling your senses, disappearing into galactic smoke.

Ufomammut continue to open their world both musically and psychedelically on “Hidden,” yet another gem from a band that continues to push their talents and the contents of their mind. Your best bet, like most of their records, is to enjoy this with headphones at night, preferably gazing at the stars that inspire these artists. But really, there is no setting that won’t be welcoming for their space doom as long as you’re willing to expand your mind and take the journey along with them.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://neurotrecordings.merchtable.com/ufomammut/?

Or here: https://www.supernaturalcat.com/home/hiddenpreorder/

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

And here: https://www.supernaturalcat.com/home/

Doom and death don’t die, nor do they age, and the ones that practice in these harrowing arts also seem to have an endless life supply. It’s funny thinking about that because we’re talking about music that is for the suffering, the ones who need a compatriot to survive the worst of circumstance, and here are these sounds, ready to shroud one’s wounds.

It’s been a strange, illustrious, and devastating ride for doom metal legends My Dying Bride, a band that took something planted by Black Sabbath and stretched it into an art form more dramatic and wounded. They’ve now returned with their excellent 15^th record “A Mortal Binding,” a seven-track, 55-minute collection that can be put up with some of their better work, a late-era gem that feels like all the sinister forces coming together. Yet, as we have this new record, the band—vocalist Aaron Stainthorpe, guitarists Andrew Craighan and Neil Blanchett, bassist Lena Abé, keyboardist/violin player Shaun MacGowan, drummer Dan Mullins—announced all live activities are on hold due to strife within the band. It’s a sad development, and hopefully a temporary one, because these songs deserve to exist in a live setting, and this record should be celebrated. They speak to a fracture during the creation of this record and the difficult nature of the studio sessions, which sits in defiance to the bio that accompanies this album, and as of this writing, the chasm hasn’t been cured. Let’s hope for the best and that My Dying Bride persevere.

“Her Dominion” opens in a dreary haze, snarled growls clawing, the playing chugging as strings glaze. Horns call and direct deeper into the murk, and then the power clutches harder, Stainthorpe wailing, “All men will fall,” as the bass trudges, and leads burn into oblivion. “Thornwyck Hymn” hammers as Stainthorpe’s singing haunts, gazey guitars spreading the moodiness that is thickening and moving like a mysterious mist. “The twisted waters, they call my name,” Stainthorpe bellows, the playing growing blacker and washing into the shadows. “The 2nd of Three Bells” has keys glazing and the singing sludging, mournful melodies taking hold and squeezing harder. Gothy winds blow as the guitars char, the growls pounding away as the menace increases, the stings mourn, and everything bleeds into the mud. “Unthroned Creed” burns and mashes, the soot caked thick, the singing adding to the increasing clouds. Whispers trace as the playing creaks, the strings sighing deeply as the shadows thicken, steamy doom leaving a thick film on your flesh.

“The Apocalyptist” is the longest track, running 11:22 and dawning with eloquent strings and vicious growls, the burly tempo bubbling to the surface. Thick strings make your heart palpitate, the howls carving as cold rains dampen and cause relentless shivering, Stainthorpe lamenting, “I cannot hold on forever.” The playing drubs slowly, stretching as the screws are turned, the chorus crushing with weight and momentum, ending in a pile of ash. “A Starving Heart” moved steadily, yet slowly into the fog, a doomy pall stretching, visions of fire haunting your dreams. Gruff howls jolt as singing dumps oil, a gothy thickness becoming a beast with which to contend. The chorus jars as guitars ring out, swelling and disappearing in steam. Closer “Crushed Embers” runs 9:02, bathing in sorrowful waters, Stainthorpe calling out, “And at that very moment, I was your echo.” Guitars pick up momentum as the bass plods, the melodies splashing, vicious roars making the ground quake. “All the joy had gone from her,” Stainthorpe presses, a morose shadow growing more ominous, everything ending abruptly and savagely.

Well into their third decade of existence, My Dying Bride remain a vital, ever-flowing source of pain and lamentation, elegant doom that feels like it could have existed 200 years ago and felt just as at home. “A Mortal Binding” is a record that grows even better with additional listens as you work your way through each morbid layer on your way to finding uncomfortable truths. The band’s next steps remain in question, but for now, we have this 15^th serving of sorrowful poetry, black arts that push on your heart and mind, and the feeling that even at the brink of apocalypse, these figures will remain standing to usher in the end.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.nuclearblast.com/products/my-dying-bride-a-mortal-binding

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

There are many ways that bands can celebrate a landmark moment in time. Live albums, best-of collections, tours focused on certain records, and special merch are manners in which that’s been done, and it depends on the artists and their audience as to which approach works best. When it comes to Bossk, the above isn’t quite enough.

Moving in on two decades together and the end of their first era that also marks the departure of vocalist Sam Marsh (he was replaced by Simon Wright), the long-running post-metal juggernaut is releasing “.4,” an interesting compilation of pieces from their history displayed in an entirely new way that their audience hasn’t heard before. Bossk—they’re rounded out by guitarists Alex Hamilton and Rob Vaughan, bassist Tom Begley, and drummer Nick Corney—have a slew of mini releases and two great full-lengths to their name, and as they look ahead to their third record, planned for 2026, they’re closing their first chapter with this nine-track collection. Assembling new versions of rare tracks, remixes, and takes by like-minded colleagues who try their capable hands at classic Bossk songs, this is a more thought-provoking and interesting collection than a mere best-of or something of that nature. This is a riveting adventure that, no matter how deeply you’ve consumed their music, you will find something surprising and refreshing to absorb.

“Kobe” features UK-based post-metal band Pijn, and they stay faithful to the original with their own flourishes. They capture the doomy swing and the pummeling low end, rumbling with emotion and momentum, making your blood rush as they keep driving deeper and harder to push you over the edge. “Truth II” is a new take of the song that also features Dubai-based composer Sheenagh Murray, whose own version of the song inspired the new take. Her singing floats above the thunder, adding new textures and visions to this band classic, power swelling and the guitars adding heat. Wordless calls surge as lush, dreamy playing swims in the clouds, pulsating as the spirit collects and a synth wave chills bones. “Albert” is a new track the band only played live once, and in a different version. Corney reworked it, and now it exists with fuzzy beats, jolting, stabbing guitars, and battering energy. You might find your mind drifting into the cosmos, taking on a cosmic glaze, the guitars spiraling away. “Events Occur In Real Time” was recorded so that outgoing vocalist Marsh could put his glass-shredded voice to this 13-minute epic. The only version that existed before this was a live take, so this is a different animal. Mariachi-style horns greet you, guitars chiming and noise buzzing, Marsh’s throaty wails laying down the hammer. The song is devastating both musically and emotionally as the band pours every ounce of themselves into this, acting as a powerful centerpiece that pays homage to their past and paves a path into the future.

“White Stork,” the first song on 2021’s “Migration,” still features Japanese sound experimenters Endon, but with the Bossk elements significantly pushed back. That makes for an eerier track, one that feels like it’s crawling down your spine, cosmic pressure growing, weird trickling hovering as sounds hiss, finally escaping into the atmosphere. “I” is a 2006 remix from Twin Zero guitarist Reuben Gotto, and noises scrape over it, rattling as guitars glow, sounds bustling as the spirit grows threatening. The gust and gaze unite, the steam rising and everything coming to a chilling end. “The Reverie” gets a more delicate treatment by instrumental band Maybeshewill, splashing chilling keys and giving the track and ambiance that feels like a foggy early morning, sun doing its best to push through the clouds. Synth gathers and collects, bringing a sense of serenity, slowly dissolving and melting into the ground. Canadian prog-psyche beast Crown Lands takes on “The Reverie II” and pushes it even deeper into space, the guitars gushing and zipping past alien worlds, hypnotic forces taking you under and helping you see visions you couldn’t before. Keys zap as the prog elements thicken, sinking into an insurmountable deluge that enthralls and settles into the galaxy. Closer “181 To Beulah” also is a song that previously only was available in a live version, and this track, played entirely on guitar, is breezy and reflective, a dark, shadowy figure that lifts and numbs, disappearing into darkness, feeling like a temporary being that haunts and then slips back into a different fold in time.

Anyone who has been on the ride with Bossk should revel in this collection as it presents their previous work in a way you’ve never witnessed it before. “.4” might be the ending of one story and the start of a new one, but it’s also a testament to some really great, riveting work that has captured imaginations and whisked spirits into entirely new territories. We wait in great anticipation of what comes next for Bossk on their forthcoming album, and this collection will act as a connective thread to the first era that has passed but will remain in hearts and minds forever.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://deathwishinc.com/collections/bossk

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

Heavy metal long has been a rallying cry, a means to rouse the people who have been crushed underfoot to refuse to accept that treatment and unite to battle back. It’s something that still lives in metal’s DNA, even if that element isn’t as upfront as it used to be, and it’s something to add fuel to the us vs them factor.

Italian force Flamekeeper, the brainchild of Marco S. Vermiglio (vocalist, guitarist, bassist, synth player), reminds me a little bit of Haunt, a throwback style of band helmed by a musician who cut his teeth elsewhere. It’s a project that reaches back into metal’s formative years for both sound and message, and it stands in defiance against forces that aim to weigh us down. It’s music that easily could have lived comfortably alongside Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, and Helloween many decades ago and not seemed out of place, and its spirit cannot be denied. Here, Vermiglio is joined by Jesus Minhava (guitars, acoustic guitars, Portuguese guitar and Axel Johansson (drums) to round out a project and record that easily could inspire personal power and strength within whoever takes a chance on this music.

“New Wild World” starts with fiery horns calling before everything ignites, Vermiglio’s singing rising above everything and pumping energy. The chorus surges, backed by fiery guitars and some unexpected lap pedal steel, giving off a classic metal feel and a frosty finish. “Flamekeeper,” a band anthem of sorts, explodes with energy, Vermiglio wailing, “I am your soul, I am your fire,” as the playing chugs energy. Guitars lather as the chorus bustles anew, jarring with power before a rousing end. “The Golden Spark” begins mystically with powerful singing, the bass trudging, and a glorious blast of guitars. Another strong chorus ensures an emotional price will be paid, the guitars lather and bubble, and driving drums push the boundaries to the end. “Raise the Banner” opens with guitars exploding, grittier singing, and an assault that goes for broke. The leads multiply and are set ablaze, group shouts rouse, and the final strains leave welts.

“Stray Yet Still Free” starts with folkish guitars and a spirited gust, giving off a very European feel that’s utterly infectious. Melodies encircle as the energy bursts, snaking through and making adrenaline spike. “Us and Them (The Song of the Voiceless)” has guitars lathering and the pace surging from the start, the vibe both catchy and defiant. Guitars rip and rush as the pace gets more volcanic, unifying cries of, “Us!” acting as a uniting force to give the strength to keep fighting. “Death, You’ll Tremble to Take Me” pulses and also brings a rustic sense, carrying on the spirit of the previous track, rousing over the chorus as Vermiglio taunts, “I know you are following me.” The refusal to succumb is a blood pumper as guitars blaze, the promise for a fight to the end stabbed as a punishing promise. “As One With Light” basks in synth and group “oh-oh” calls, the pace lightning up, punches landing as acoustics add texture. Flames lick and cause you to shield your face, and then the power floods anew, slipping into the light. Closer “The Roads of Rome” brings horns calling, the melodies lathering, and a darker ambiance spreading. The singing surges as the pace jars, the chorus stinging before acoustics take over, ending with a rush of power.

The drive to present as something defiant and resilient is splashed all over Flamekeeper’s self-titled debut record, and it’s impossible to listen to this thing and not feel yourself roused spiritually to fight back. Metal classically has served this kind of role ever since its inception, but seeing a band unabashedly show that side and separate themselves from the gloom and doom feels rather fresh in 2024. There also is a rawness to the band’s exuberant power, and that adds an edge to their metallic might.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://invictusproductions.net/collections/invictus-releases

For more on the label, go here: https://invictusproductions.net/

We live in a constant state of uncertainty, and even as some things in life have evened out, there’s so much more tumult out there politically and in our constantly dividing society that it’s hard to know where to go next. It makes it a struggle to have enthusiasm for the future because a lot of our problems are so far from being solved or even manageable.

Vancouver black/death metal crushers Svneatr see the same issues we do, and they’re equally as impacted, and on their third record “Never Return,” they express as much over these thunderous six tracks spread over a volcanic 40 minutes. The band—vocalist/guitarist Vitharr Monteith, guitarist James Readman, bassist Shawn Hillman, drummer Matthew Logan—established their fire over the first two records, but on this new effort, they expand their sound just enough to add more colors but not betray their sound. They remain a thought-provoking wrecking machine, but the added elements give them more weapons at their disposal.

“Mechanical Wolves” opens with warm leads, making it seem serenity might dawn, but then the shrieks wreck shop, trudging and pummeling as the heat increases. Leads burn as the tempo boils inside your skull, the intensity spiking as a melodic gust spins before blasting out. “Never Return” starts with cold guitars sending chills before the pace unloads, the growls carving into bone. Menace explodes as speed and melody unite, the shrieks gutting, the guitars turning to a churning force. Leads flood and blind with multiple colors, ripping hearts from chests. “…And When Comes the Storm” starts with acoustics, electrics looping between them, clean-sung lines adding a different texture. The playing feels spacious and foggy, the singing numbing before Monteith goes back to shrieks, gutting with dramatic gusts. The aura goes cosmic and frigid, floating through detached terrain, acoustics and clean guitars collecting and bowing out to the universe.

“Omen” brings thick bass and a tradeoff between growls and icy singing, guitars slurring among the chaos. The tempo absolutely mauls before everything liquifies, bringing dizzying waves that numb your brain, entering into a new section of crunch. Leads wail as the shrieks whip with force, battering and bringing everything to an abrupt end. “Blackout” is dreary and doomy before the center combusts, storming blackness taking down everything in its path. Guitars flood as the blackness thickens, the playing becoming even more savage, trying to remove guts from mid-sections as keys glimmer, adding an alien force to violence unimagined. Closer “Reaper of the Universe” is dark and foreboding before exploding in fire, the shrieks raining down, ripping at flesh and pounding away. The playing ramps up as the guitars scramble, sinking into an unexpectedly jazzy section, an atmospheric gust pushing through, the singing echoing in your ears. A savage attack then jerks muscles, a melodic burst flooding, mystical sounds hovering before disappearing.

On “Never Return,” Svneatr perfectly encapsulate the fear of uncertainly we have faced the past few years, and it’s not like the present and future feel any less volatile. The band’s blend of black and death metal has expanded pretty greatly, and this devastating document not only shows their savagery has expanded but so has their willingness to push beyond any boundaries. This is a new Svneatr, one that has survived chaos and some of the most challenging times we’re all known, and their meddle successfully has been tested like never before.

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

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

Or here (International): https://prostheticrecords.8merch.com/

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

As much tumult and frustration as there is in the world, and there’s plenty of it, the worst way out of it would be to give up and let the powers that be have their control. We live at the boot of capitalism, which has a ripple effect over matters such as societal struggle, environmental issues, and equality, and fighting back is the only true option.

Finnish death metal power Unearthly Rites have plenty of anger and vitriol spread over their mangling debut record “Ecdysis,” but the goal behind it all is to make it possible for a brighter future that rises above all of the chaos. The band—vocalist Sisli Piisilä, guitarists Simo Perkiömäki and Santtu Markko, bassist Jennika Vikman, drummer Tapio Lepistö—themselves have taken up for environmental activism and have lashed back against mining and drilling actions that maim the earth and fresh water sources. That’s packed into these thunderous nine tracks that revel in filth and fight back against a power structure that only seems to care about how much money it can make.

“Hellscape” is an instrumental opener with noises sizzling, synth folding, and feedback bubbling, blowing into “Deep Drilling Earth’s Crust” that mauls with guitars digging into skulls. Growls rip as the playing adds pressure, Piisilä howling, “Heavy metals and radiation leach, polluting the water and soil, nature is destroyed.” The brutality continues from there, smoke filling the air, thrashy bends shaking stomach contents, rushing away with power. “The Master’s Tools” sits under doomy skies, growls mashing as filthy chaos rushes to the surface. Growls shred throats, drubbing as the guitars add heat, blazing heavily as ashes collect. The title track unloads with bludgeoning violence, growls slashing as blood is shed generously. The pace feels sooty and clogging, the trudging blistering flesh, warm guitars flowing like a sludgy river over your prone body. “Capitalocenic Nightmare” pounds away, growls retching as the punishment is amplified, the bass quivering through the earth. “We will burn down this system and plant new seeds to where there was concrete,” Piisilä wails, echoes sharpening as animalistic terror digs into the veins of the earth.

“New Venus” brings torching guitars and vocals that go for a choke hold, the playing speeding up suddenly and dangerously. “Oceans evaporate to steam, clouds of sulfuric acid drift where there was sky,” Piisilä cries, the fear of atmospheric destruction weighing heavily, the combustion from all forces coming together to devastate, ripping apart and bursting with flames. “Fuck Ecofascism” trudges, growls scathing, the guitars lathering and building up an ocean of blood. “To claim the humanity is to blame for our sins is a colonialist, western & racist understanding of the world,” Piisilä stabs bluntly, the clubbing tempo leaving bruising, dragging chaos through the mud and into a buzzing finish. “Sacrifice Zones” is slow driving and weighs down on your chest, growls and shrieks scarring, battering everything in its wake. Guitars scar as the low end rumbles, igniting and burning the hair off your flesh. Closer “Doomed” is the longest track, running 7:13, and it’s aptly titled, the bass clobbering, the playing squeezing like a vice, the guitars burning and then taking off. The bulk of this is gutting, Piisilä howling, “Time to lose false hope and fight for what is left, what could still be saved,” the pummeling and scorching teaming, everything dissolving into an ocean of noise as a glimmer of light beams.

Unearthly Rites savagely sound the alarm against the scourge of capitalism and the way it eroded our world as well as environmental concerns as we are on the brink of destruction, but they do so in a way that signals we still could find hope. “Ecdysis” is a mauling, devastating record that combines old school death metal and modern scuzz, and its messages are sobering and at times infuriated. Yet the fight continues, and there remain ways to save the future, but it’ll take anger and a drag-down fight to prevent the ruling class from turning what we have left into hollow profit.   

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/unearthlyrites666

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

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

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

I have done no research on this, but there cannot be a ton of records named after a weasel-like animal that can kill prey much larger than itself. They’re kind of a pain in the ass, even though they’re adorable with the beady eyes and bushy tail and furry faces. But yeah, they’re a menace, and it kind of makes sense why a band would name a group of songs after the little creatures.

San Francisco-based Brume (pronounced “broom”) are not like your average band making heavier sounds that situate deeply in doomy waters. They’ve made a habit of naming their records after animals, and their third is “Marten,” titled after that pesky and aggressive mammal. Funny enough, a friend of mine and I used to watch marten videos at work. We still text each other about the goddamn martens. Actually, I guess that title kind of resembles the band—vocalist/bassist/keyboard player Susie McMullan, guitarist/vocalist Jamie McCathie, cellist/vocalist Jackie Perez Gratz, drummer Jordan Perkins Lewis—as they’re fully capable of sinking in their teeth and taking you down, their songs often disarming you with emotion and darkness you don’t see coming until it’s right on top of you. This record, like their previous two full-lengths, is an experience, one that might not fully make sense the first time around. But if you keep going back, it’ll get inside your mind and take up residence, refusing to ever leave.

“Jimmy” is an enchanting opener, dark and foreboding, strings scraping and the heat slowly building. “You raise your glass to freedom,” McMullan calls, “you raise your glass to family,” as doom clouds spread, burning and smoking as McMullan warns, “My wrath will not be well contained.” “New Sadder You” is somber, low/high singing chilling, the playing churning as the hits come harder. Strings sweep as the shadows thicken, the moodiness becoming a bigger factor, crushing as the flames lick your face before ending in a quake. “Faux Savior” haunts right away, group singing thickening, the call of, “Can you devour my sins?” pricking hearts. The playing is slow and sultry, the skies darkening and threatening, the band going into full gust, the energy spiking as the singing soars into the stratosphere. “Otto’s Song” opens as guitars glide and the cello coats, hazy group singing hanging overhead as the guitars catch fire. The singing turns lush and emotional, the harmonizing making your blood rush, especially in the final moments as only the voices remain.

“How Rude” basks under the moon, deeper singing pushing, the strings adding layers as the melodies move slowly. Guest and Ludicra vocalist Laurie Shanaman’s unmistakable howls ripple, the playing erupting and pummeling, everything getting thicker and bloodier by the second, unloading the final storm gusts of fury. “Heed Me” dawns with dual singing, Shanaman’s shrieks raining down, sounds floating and glistening. “What can you do for me?” McMullan calls, the psychedelic colors blazing now, anguished cries opening the veins of serenity, letting it flood all over the floor. “Run Your Mouth” trickles in solemnity and soft anger, McMullan singing, “Words can’t save you, I’ve got all night.” The weight kicks in and flows through dreariness, sadness and frustration meandering through your brain, the shadows thickening and then subsiding as the final moments bleed away. Closer “The Yearn” flows in with group calls, a folkish backbone solidifying, McMullan leveling with, “I can’t replace every moment we have together.” Guitars weep as the sounds gush, layered with loss in the pit of your chest, psyche waves lapping over and covering bleeding hearts. Guitars char as the emotional climax hits, twisting at your wounds as it fades into eternity.

Brume’s melancholic doom and thick cloudiness arrive in heavy doses on “Marten,” their third record named after an animal, this one a goddamn pest. The playing is equally brutal and beautiful as the band takes you on a deep, dark ride into emotions that sometimes weigh a little too heavily for comfort. This is a record that grows stickier and more involved with every listen, and each time you take that trip, you unveil new levels of tumult and hurt you didn’t notice the times before.

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

To buy the album, go here: http://lnk.spkr.media/brume-marten

For more on the label, go here:  https://us.merhq.net/

Having the misfortune of growing up Catholic comes with the added bonus of living in fear that every small mistake you make is going to result in you spending eternity in flames and torment. It’s a story you’re told to keep you in line and to strip you from the parts of yourself that are genuine, replacing that with crippling fear.

Canadian technical death crushers Atræ Bilis think of eternal damnation in more of a warped way based on scientific experimentation, and their worming second record “Aumicide” is a concept piece about a test specimen being tortured by different variations of hell to remove one’s sense of faith and operate in total godlessness. Sounds fun. The music itself is as warped as the concept as the band—vocalist Jordan Berglund, guitarist David Stepanavicius, bassist Miles Morrison, drummer Luka Govednik—delves even deeper into the strangest, sickest version of themselves yet, complete with twisted visions and corrosion that feels like it came from another galaxy.

“Protoxenesis” is a tingling, warping instrumental opener with the guitars trickling and the bass pulsating, leading to “Hell Simulation” that feels like it’s tangling you up in steel cables. The playing blindsides and torches, the vocals taking on a strange alien effect that, to be honest, grates on the nerves. It happens throughout the record, and it’s not my favorite thing, but it’s minor. The tempo jerks as the vocals get throatier,  sinewy madness closing off veins. “Salted in Stygia” stabs away, growls retching as spindly intergalactic weirdness takes over, the eeriness building to monstrous dashes. Clean singing adds a different element while ugly crunches blast away. “Inward to Abraxas” feels mystical at first before the doors are blown off, punching as the battering tempo takes hold. The playing chugs as strange glitching gnaws at nerves, throaty howls ripping into digitized chaos. “To Snuff the Spirit Guides” is speedy and mean, scathing guitars leaving brush burns, the gutting madness tying in with a strange atmospheric twist. Things turn tricky and ripping, the guitars taking off and rippling through space.

The title track is an instrumental piece, the guitars agitating over a heat storm, spacious echoes blowing into “A Kingdom of Cortisol” that punishes right away as the growls crunch bones. The melodies play tricks with your brain, snaking and trudging, the pressure overwhelming and disappearing into tornadic energy. “Monolith Aflame” opens with cold guitars before the violent twists and turns land, group howls making your flesh crawl. The temperature keeps switching back and forth, vicious howls brawling with your sanity, the pace dizzying and making maintaining your balance nearly impossible. “Through the Hologram’s Cervix” brings gale force winds, beastly terror squeezing your temples, alien crackles peppering you with waves of discomfort. The guitars tangle as the growls intensify, a sci-fi burst blazing with colors, torching to an abrupt end. Closer “Excruciate Incarnate” mauls, the guitars attacking and crushing your senses. Static spits, unfurling sonic leads that twist your guts, sweat glistening on your brow. The strangling tempo is enthralling, twisting your psyche before fading into the stars.

Hell is more cosmic that I ever expected, at least from what we glean from “Aumicide,” a record that finds Atræ Bilis in twistingly brutal form. This band keeps getting stranger and less human, something that’s pretty apparent once you absorb the insanity of these 10 tracks. Whether or not damnation is real, this record will make you rethink your position and if eternal fires are instead set in a strange lab somewhere.

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

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

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

We’re surrounded by chaos, though that’s not anything new. But it feels like with everyone pulled so closely together due to the existence of social media and the surge of political ideologies that threaten to pull us full force into a fully fascist government that we’re at a tipping point that’s more volatile than anything we’ve experienced before.

It’s impossible to listen to “Echoes of the Devil’s Den,” the new record from Terminal Nation, and not feel the full force of their anger and frustration over the events that have marred this country especially and the world at large. The band—vocalist Stan Liszewski, guitarists Tommy Robinson and Dalton Rail, bassist/vocalist Chase Turner, drummer Chase Davis—delves into the ongoing nightmare that never seems to let up, especially in a presidential election year that could be our last with no good options (and one a fucking criminal with multiple indictments) on the ticket. They also dig into more personal matters that have haunted them, and that all makes for an explosive, face-melting record that lets them release the boiling trauma in their brains in a productive manner that torches power structures artistically.

The title track opens the record, doom bells chiming, the filth building as the power combusts, throaty howls lashing away. The playing is heavy as fuck, growls and shrieks opening wounds, everything darkening before fading. “Written by the Victor” features guest vocals from Todd Jones of Nails (you will never be one of him), and it’s a mashing, blinding burst, direct and violent as the growls take you apart. Thrashy fire melts, the growls punish, and everything burns into “The Spikes Under the Bridge,” which starts with heated guitar swagger. “They pick the easy target, punishing being alive, with twisted steel and unforgiving cement,” Liszewski howls, going right for the throat, thorny guitars following. Sinewy, mashing playing makes the bruising go deeper, vicious blows leaving dust behind. “No Reform” brings pummeling drums and a forceful front, battering with a storming assault. The band lashes back at the state of policing, Liszewski wailing, “There is no reform for the murder of children, no amount of training curbs a killer appetite.” The pressure continues to mount, as does the anger and disgust, and there can be no mystery behind their intent after Liszewski shouts, “Fuck every cop that’s ever fucking lived.” “Empire in Decay” chars with guitars heaving, the combined howls and growls uniting to flex, a calculated pace letting the blows take time to register. The bulk of this is punishing, guitars snarling and melting into “Embers of Humanity” an icy, dark instrumental. Guitars drip and echo as the eeriness spreads, ending with a suddenly warming gaze.

“Merchants of Bloodshed” features Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage, and it blurs with sludgy intent, the dual vocals burying under tons of scrap metal, the battering whipped into a manic frenzy with steel teeth. The band lashes out at the perversion of war and the lustful 24-hour news cycle only too happy to spread the terror as Liszewski wails, “Face of death, a grim reaper cloaked in an American flag.” Chilling keys drip as Leach’s voice explodes, melting into a frozen resting place. “Bullet for a Stone” mauls with bending guitars, howls scorching, and the pressure becoming insurmountable. A slow-driving menace surfaces and makes footing impossible, bruising as the madness finally relents. “Dying Alive” is brutal, punishment building and crushing wills, a penetrating fury stabbing through rib cages. The guitars carve as acidic sludging multiplies, leaving chewed bones behind. “Cemetery of Imposters” features Kevin Kennedy of Sex Prisoner, and it chugs with menace and fury, Liszewski’s vocals dripping with anger. “Start digging, motherfucker, you ain’t getting saved,” stabs with ill intent, sneering and shoveling guts, laying everything to waste. “I will bury you in the fucking ground,” also doesn’t leave much to question, pounding with heavy, relentless madness. “Immolation (Of Mother Earth)” is fiery and hammering, through it has a stripe of mournful darkness, destroying as it swelters. The playing comes for you with a reckless savagery, crushing until there’s nothing left in the tank. Closer “Release the Serpents” brings Integrity’s Dwid Hellion into the fold, and it bristles with attitude as throaty howls devastate, guitars carve into bone, and scathing terror becomes a greater factor. No punches are pulled at all, spooky keys mixing in with the metallic skullduggery, warping and bleeding into strange warmth that carries us home.

The anger and unrest at the heart of “Echoes of the Devil’s Den” is so thick, you practically can smell it, its burnt-rubber toxicity easily choking you out. Terminal Nation never approached their music with a gentle hand before, and considering the state of the world at this moment, one can understand just how volatile and tormenting this attack is meant to be. There’s no escaping this madness, this disintegration of peace, and the only way to battle back is with an attack that lacks forgiveness and mercy for the oppressors.

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

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

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

I appreciate that there are bands that as soon as you hear them, you know who they are. Taking that a step further, it’s even more rewarding when you can tell a band from their sound, even when they keep adding to their concoction and continue trying to do new things every time they put out a record.

Inter Arma have a pretty unmistakable sound, yet on their new record “New Heaven,” their fifth, they keep expanding beyond their base to show just how dexterous they are as musicians and creators. Over eight tracks and 42 minutes (their shortest full-length to date), the band—Mike Paparo (vocals), Trey Dalton (guitar, synthesizers, mellotron, vocals), Steven Russell (guitars), Joel Moore (bass, synthesizers, tape loops, samples, and noise),  T.J. Childers (drums, percussion, guitars, lap steel, piano, noise)—immerses you in another audio assault that takes some adjustment before it feels like home. Lyrically, we’re visiting the real victims of war, mental illness, addiction, and social issues that gnaw at us all. Inter Arma have a defined sound for sure, but their willingness and enthusiasm for pushing boundaries makes every one of their albums a unique experience.

The title track opens with manic guitars ripping on their own, met by thunderous growls and jerking playing, the melodies dizzying and creating bizarre waves. Howls carve as the colorful sprawl continues, the viciousness ramped up, guitars going off and soaring in different directions as the corrosion sets in, bending and disintegrating. “Violet Seizures” has guitars teasing and Paparo’s howls echoing, feeling psychedelic and trippy. A panicked pace punishes as the growls retch and riffs spindle, the drums crushing everything in their path. Shrieks hammer as the ground rumbles, consumed by digital zaps. “Desolation’s Harp” unloads lurching growls and atmospheric pressure, keys shimmering as the guitars rise. The tempo then digs into your ribs, vibrating and sending chills, the leads spreading in mind-altering fashion, slowly drifting into oblivion and “Endless Grey.” This brief instrumental highlights sun-splashed melodies and twin guitars that make it feel like you’re gazing into a summer sky, baked out of your mind.

“Gardens in the Dark” eases in with Paparo’s deep crooning reaching into guts, dark guitars creating a squall that bleeds into realities. The playing bubbles over as the storming cascades, leads soaring into the sky, then fading out and back in before suddenly fleeing. “The Children the Bombs Overlooked” has drums stalking, more deep singing adding to the hypnosis, and a synth glaze leaving a strange coating over your face. The playing drubs as sounds woosh, the bloody horrors of war playing out before you, the drums kicking as mauling vocals drink deeply from a lake of sludge. Mournful melodies and blistering force rise again, leaving behind bruising and working into “Concrete Cliffs,” a track that shines a light on mental illness and the battles many have with that disease. The playing drips and hulks as growls burst, and then a cleansing wave washes over, heat blazing through the sky. Growls drag as the grime accumulates, everything jettisoned into space. “Forest Service Road Blues” is a rustic closer, a dark tale that feels harrowing from the start, acoustics and pianos constructing the fragile framework. Paparo’s singing chews away at you as he levels, “The sun don’t shine like it used to,” adding more weight to the darkness. Strings ache as the grim reality sets in, Paparo calling, “They say sometimes you got to let a man dig his own grave,” putting a dark cover over the final moments.

Inter Arma’s chameleon-like psychedelic heaviness gets stranger with every record, which we mean in a good way, and “New Heaven” takes that to higher levels. Every track here stands on its own and has its own DNA, which makes this thing exciting and ever-changing over all eight tracks. Inter Arma never shy away from scraping at uncomfortable topics and dressing that in metallic compositions that twist brains, and they’re just as exciting and perplexing as ever, which just adds to their stellar resume.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/pages/inter-arma-new-heaven

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