It’s as good a time as any to lift the coffin lid on some sooty, jarring death metal that feels like it is ready to retreat into lifelessness along with much of nature. This style of music is good for any time period, honestly, but some of the bands making these dark waves hit a little closer to home when the temperatures drop, and the light is choked into submission.  

Seattle-based death crew Degraved land at a great time with “Spectral Realm of Ruin,” their debut full-length and one that’ll have you shivering in the graveyard over their devastating sound. This is not a band here to show off their prowess and electrify your bloodstream; instead, this beast—bassist/vocalist NE, guitarists MM and DZ, drummer LP—are here to pulverize you. Yeah, you’re going to find flashier, more adrenaline-inducing bands out there. But they trade that for face-to-the-grindstone, smoldering death metal that is here to drag you into their dreary haunts and pummel you relentlessly until all that’s left of your face is bruised flesh. Plus look at that 1991-esque cover art!

 “Pariah of Death & Darkness” opens in filth, deep growls lurching, the pace stomping hard. Drums maul as the raw fury spreads its wings, the guitars snarl and smoke, and a steely force cuts into your psyche. “Sulfuric Embalming” spatters and even flutters a bit, guitars scuffing as melodies hide behind the walls of smoke. The playing ravages as the growls smear, the power drives harder, and a heated, molten back end scorches flesh. “Inept Descent” has carving riffs, drums creating dust, and a guttural emergence, the leads stinging. An interesting aspect of the band is their understated power that steamrolls but never shows off, proved here with the clobbering bass, synth gusts, and guitars twisting muscle without mercy.

“Stalker of the Herd” has encircling riffs, a buzzing foundation, and beastly mashing, the power overwhelming. Leads heat up and take off, wild barks echoing in the scrum, everything ending with fury. “Unseen” has a jerking pace and vocals that leave dust, the pace hammering away as the intensity peaks. Drums punish as the guitars char, going cold for a spell and bathing in icy waters before resurfacing reborn. Guitars waylay as everything darkens into an unmovable pile of muck. “March of the Undead” is slow driving at first, pounding with power, burly, fiery guitars flexing muscle. The temperatures spike as the leads thrive, raspy growls echo, and the final blows land hard. Closer “Vacuous State” is wiry and rubbery, guitars reverberating before the pace smashes glass. The guitars trample as the drums grow more volatile, burning through mounds of flesh, the smoke rising and choking you out, slowly fading into oblivion.

“Spectral Realm of Ruin” is a respectable debut from Degraved that trades dynamics for bone-grinding power that feels shallowly buried in dirt for a terrified soul to find. The band’s knack for early death metal tendencies and chaos is apparent, but they also infuse some atmosphere and other elements that sometimes hide in the shadows. This is a promising first full-length from a band that seems to have some untapped potential in their reserves, and as time goes on and this monster forms, it will be interesting to see what tributaries into death’s kingdom they can carve.

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

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

Or here (Europe): https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/degraved-spectral-realm-of-ruin-lp/

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

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

We’ve all had that feeling that we’ve taken on so much, whether voluntarily or against our will, that we can’t take another step based on that weight. That also is balanced against just surviving, realizing we are at the mercy of power structures that do not always (or ever?) have our needs in mind and choose to steamroll whatever stands in their way.

Anna Von Hausswolff, on her sixth record “ICONOCLASTS,” sees the struggle of taking on too many burdens as well as the drive to salvage our lives and power as we see the world crumbling before us. She took the example of Atlas, with the world on his shoulders, and drove into these 12 songs and 72 minutes with the intent of examining fears, love, loss, contradictions, and finding our true meaning within. Armed with a slew of musicians as well as guests artists, Von Hausswolff crafts a massive display of her untouchable talents and artistic force, her call like none other. The songs weave into one another and create a greater whole that, yes, is demanding of your time, but it also rewards greatly. This is a stunning collection that feels like the culmination of her work to date.

“The Beast” starts as an orchestral piece, sweltering and gathering momentum, drone building and finally relenting, exiting in a breeze. “Facing Atlas” has sax swirls and organs, Von Hausswolff’s singing unfurling as the emotion spills alongside her. Drums pulse as things burst as Von Hausswolff calls, “Can’t we just run away?” as the playing jangles and crashes out. “The Iconoclast” is an 11:15-long behemoth, guitars buzzing and the singing filling your head, horns bringing heat as the sentiment soars. The aura is atmospheric as the vocals pierce harder, and a haze of strings warm over as things crumble, and the sax floats. Angelic singing ices wounds as Von Hausswolff prods, “Can I protect you?” a sentiment that repeats until the notes land in a pillow. “The Whole Woman” features Iggy Pop, sounding more weathered but as charismatic and vulnerable as ever. The song emerges from a dream, two distant lovers pining yet smarting over the wounds. When they sing together, they are two separate spirits searching for one another in the fog, hoping this union finally sticks. This is a gem of a song. “The Mouth” has organs heating, the singing sweltering, and drama thickening, the strings glazing and pouring on the emotion. The body of the song is lush and huge, pulsing as the sax twists, and sounds squeeze as the spirit moves further into the night, right to left on your speakers, fading into psyche static. “Stardust” has drums rousing and the playing reverberating, feeling kind of devious as the synth gathers, pushing your heart to endure a little more. Von Hausswolff’s vocals scorch as warm sax brings a thick lather, guitars lap, and the repeated cries of, “I am sorry,” fade into hushed exhaust.

“Aging Young Women” features Ethel Cain on vocals alongside Von Hausswolff, and their voices are strikingly similar but boast different characters. Sax eases in as the call of, “See me off and set me free,” wafts, organs dueling with the atmosphere. Together they call, “We’re getting older by the hour, and every day we have more fear,” as their artistic union merges with their hearts. “Consensual Neglect” has all elements gathering overheard before bursting generously, horns enveloping, the feeling of a cold, autumn morning soaking into your bones. The pressure builds and challenges your lungs before the instrumental piece fades. “Struggle With the Beast” packs guitar-like sax riffs that feel steely and formidable, melodic changes, and daring new directions, with Von Hausswolff’s voice not even heard until about the 3:40 mark. The bass slinks and the brassy leads continue flexing, the singing snapping as the temperatures jolt. Strings glisten as a huge rush of blood overwhelms, rousing as the final moments scrape away. “An Ocean of Time” features Abul Mogard, who adds a huge element of surreal energy to this song that is a long dreamscape. Ghostly calls simmer as echoes permeate the increasing shadows, sweeping into spacey drone. The playing hovers and orbits, strange noise bleeding out of every crevice before powering down. “Unconditional Love” also features Anna’s sister Maria, a cinematographer and filmmaker who has appeared on her sibling’s albums before. The playing flutters as horns spread, and the singing awakens, organs lending a glaze. The essence feels fantastical in spots, the call of, “Until you’re mine!” feeling like a declaration, the emotion cresting and fading. “Rising Legends” closes the album instrumentally, sounds swelling and orchestral waves overcoming, rising before landing gently on the shore.

It feels like Von Hausswolff has been building to “ICONOCLASTS” her entire career as she pours every part of herself into this dynamic record that feels like her ultimate achievement. Yes, it is pretty long as compared to a standard album, but you’ll get lost easily in the heavily visual music and Von Hausswolff’s ethereal, world-toppling voice. This is a perfect record for crawling out of the cold and storing yourself away somewhere dark where you can absorb this album from front to back in peace.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.youtube.com/@AnnavonHausswolff

To buy the album, go here: https://yr1.se/iconoclasts

For more on the label, go here: https://year0001.com/

If you want death, you got it. Let’s not mince words today. We like to have a relevant opening, but sometimes just getting into it is the way to go. I’m not really doing that, am I? Anyway, hungry for scathing death metal that makes you feel the scope of unimaginable horror inside? Can’t go wrong with Glorious Depravity, can you?

Their new album “Death Never Sleeps” is what every whiny baby who hates nuance and experimentation in death metal claims they really want. Brutality? Yeah. Lyrical content that can turn your stomach? Here’s your puke bag. Dan Seagrave cover art that looks perfect on vinyl packaging and T-shirts? Here it fucking is. Comprised of vets from acts as varied as Woe, Pyrrhon, Scarcity, and Gravesend, the band—vocalist Doug Moore, guitarists Matt Mewton and George Paul, bassist John McKinney, and drummer Chris Grigg—this union of the damned kicks your Halloween week off right with deadly power that gets tossed in the dryer with some thrash, coming out a strange color that warps minds. This strikes early, often, and with deadly precision.

“Slaughter the Gerontocrats” blisters as the drums crush, the growls marring as guitars stab with intensity. Maniacal cries lurch while the guitars blow out and crunch, the pace grinding hard to a finish. “Stripmined Flesh Extractor” (note to self: get yours back from the neighbor) is driving and hellish, monstrous growls gurgling, speed igniting as the guitars tangle. The battering chews muscle as the tempo continues to maul, disappearing into a cosmic void. “Freshkills Poltergeist” is channeled and sinewy, guitars mashing as the power bends, simmering in filth, “You should never have come!” Moore wails, the rubbery terror confounding, zany guitars racing into madness. “Sulphrous Winds (Howling Through Christendom)” is heated with the leads charring, the pace punishing every step of the way. Muscular guitars bristle and explode, and gutting power and belching growls drag you over the horrifying finish line.

“Scourged by the Wings of the Fell Destroyer” is relentless, Moore trading off between growl and shriek, amplifying the insanity. The playing speeds up as the leads erupt, thrashing and gutting as the vocals slither into a weird vortex. “The Devouring Dust” destroys, shrieks burning through piles of bone, the pace going for broke as the drums turn everything to dust. The attack gets hungrier and bloodier, the driving force corking through your chest. “Carnage at the Margins” has guitars boiling, the screams upping the ante, and boiling chaos removing flesh from bone. The brutality knows no ends, igniting as unhinged shrieks wreck minds, spiraling synth consuming whole. “Necrobotic Enslavement” bludgeons and enters into a slowly mauling attack, crunching and spattering. Throaty wails leave bruising, and everything around them becomes engulfed in flames before blasting into oblivion. Closer “Death Never Sleeps” is even tempered at first, with the playing remaining channeled but violent, growls dragging into the mud. Guitars flex as the shrieks tread, punchy leads do damage, and everything melts into a horrifying pile of regurgitated skin and bone. 

“Death Never Sleeps” is a perfect title for this collection as Glorious Depravity manage to create music that embodies those words as the carnage never fucking stops. This is death metal that dines at the table of the masters, pushing vitriolic sounds and horrific scenery into a record that has no mercy. The Seagrave cover could tell you all you need to know, and then the music itself makes an even better case for why this band’s approach to death metal is both rooted in tradition and totally over the fucking top in the best way. 

For more on the band, go here: https://gloriousdepravity-label.bandcamp.com/

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

Or here (Europe): https://eu.tometal.com/

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

A lot of us wake up every day and dread what’s about to unfurl. It’s been tough to find a reason to muster the strength we must in order to handle the bullshit shoved down our throats each day, but here we are, man. It’s enough to want to torch the living shit out of something just to get this frustration out of us.

Primitive Man are back with “Observance,” their first full-length in five years. Any journey alongside this band—vocalist/guitarist Ethan Lee McCarthy, bassist Jon Campos,drummer Joe Linden—is a torturous one, but this album is even more imposing and suffocating. This is a ferocious, hungry furnace of a record, one that takes the misery and anger and transforms it into intimidating sound that pile on tons of noise and doom. These are formless beasts, devoid of hooks and thrills and fully committed to complete destruction and a hellish bloodletting that provide the torch for your misery.

“Seer” arrives disruptively, noise piercing and hulking, guitars frying as McCarthy’s howls devastate, doing ample psychological damage. The heat spreads as the sounds slow and batter, increasing the pressure, roars opening chest cavities. Guitars turn as the insanity multiplies, monstrous wrenching choking off air supplies, a mountain of soot piling at your feet. “Devotion” scratches open, morbidity clogging veins, a guitar haze hanging overhead as the vocals torment. The chaos stretches as sounds simmer, growls leveling as everything is dragged through the mud, dangerous levels of noxious fumes rising. Guitars emit energy as the power glows, doom chugging and corroding before fading away. “Transactional” is a goddamn monster, punishing and mashing in calculated fashion, growls lashing as the guitars hypnotize for a stretch. Sounds spiral and infect, the bass chews away at muscle, and then the pace hits a higher gear, slithering and sludging through carnage. Deafening interference rings out as sweltering force ripples, hammers fall as growls club, and what remains bathes in acid. “Iron Sights” is an interlude, delving into fuzz and feedback, basking in an electrical storm swirling overhead that feels threatening.

“Natural Law” unleashes desperate wails, and then the guitars torch, spinning before ripping open, ravaging as every element mangles whatever is in its grasp. Screams jar as the pressure squashes, steam rises that makes existing a challenge, and the menacing pace keeps grinding flesh into pavement. Your mind tingles as everything slowly pulls back, dissolving into poisoned waters. “Social Contract” starts with percussive claps and clashes, then the guitars open, chattering folding through the darkness, the bass bending bodies in half. Growls are buried in the fury, guitars create a thick fog, and loopy melodies give off a disorienting sensation, as if your blood sugar is dangerously low. Howls eat away at metal as a rubbery tempo confounds, drums swing, and the ritual punishment smolders. Closer “Water” stomps with authority, the growls flex, and the temperatures rise, tangling and forcing seismic change. Leads lather as the playing grows dizzying, the screams punish and peel back sanity, and torturous hell is achieved that you’re pulled into with force. The blows land repeatedly, each one grislier than the last, deliberate shots antagonize, and the entire beast breathes harder and more destructively, blaring out into savagery. 

We stand at a precipice that a lot of people with power both willingly ignore and lustfully push ahead at the same time, and “Observance” is the result of Primitive Man taking stock and firing back with volcanic fury. This record is one of their most intense and sonically violent, an excursion into hell on earth forced on us by people who stand to gain from our losses. This record is a warning to those who usher in this era as it promises pain and retribution on the other end for turning the world into a playground for tyrants.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/pages/primitive-man-observance

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

Putting on a record that instantly terrifies you is an experience. You hear something you don’t fully expect, and at first, you don’t know if you want to continue because it feels like it’s going to melt your brain. That doesn’t happen all the time now, especially since so much heaviness is homogenized, so when it hits, the impact is weirder.

While it’s not our first go-round with Thaumaturgy, a band helmed solely by KT (despite there being three people in the promo shot, and I can’t find a fuller lineup … also, another sidebar: Dear bands, stop putting your logo on all promo shots … make one with and one without), their new record “Pestilential Hymns” is one of the strangest, most abrasive albums we’re heard in a minute. A lot of what makes these eight tracks initially uncomfortable are the vocals (the bio compares them to Martin Van Druren, but I hear a lot of vintage John Tardy as well), and at first that could be off putting for some. But the further you delve into this bizarre death metal madness, the more it gels and makes all the morbid sense in the world.

“Neuroticism Triumphant” ravages right away, the vocals sounding like a deranged prowler, the playing boiling into a heatwave. The playing gets meaner and more devious as the howls smash, the playing chugs harder, and synth rises and fades away. “The Oncologist’s Hymn” ignites with wild wails, a drilling pace, and the bass wrapping you in darkness, your guts taking on a crushing assault. The pace charges as the leads torch, amplifying the temperature before everything dissolves into airy ambiance. “The Shadow Approaches” damages from the start, sooty howls smoking, guitars taking on heat and blowing back exhaust. The playing catches fire as doomy fury flows freely, landing a few final blows. “Plague Ritual” is wiry and formidable, barked howls dislodging chunks of flesh, the fiery pace running into an icy synth field. Doom recoils as the guitars snap back, tangling and trampling, raspy growls dusting before a gothy fog envelopes all.

“Awaken Ares” is speedy as hell, howls cutting as the pace enters a volatile weather system that promises carnage. The death elements spike as the pace matches that gust, unhinged cries melt away your psyche, and mournful leads blend with sorrowful keys. “Entropic Hegemony” splatters, howls gutting, deviously heavy playing making your ability to steady yourself nearly impossible. The pace pulverizes, guitars swelling as skull-dragging death delivers misery, leading to a morbid, yet savage finish. “An Ignominious End” is a strange instrumental, a sort of breather before the final chapter. Here, guitars weep blackness, the frigid winds frost windows, and the drums echo, letting the dreary spirits escape the room. Closer “Forced March” trudges in, nasty sentiment spread generously, drilling into your skull. Growl retch as the madness increases, guitars surge, and brutality renews its mission to maim before the end comes, slowly bleeding into frosty keys that ice over wounds.

Thaumaturgy might be an arms-length band for some, as “Pestilential Hymns” can be a difficult record on first listen, especially if you have no prior experience with the band. But go back. Doors open, strangeness permeates your brain, and everything fits into place, even if that also advances your own horrors. This is a trip that can peel away at your mind if you’re not safe. Or it can let loose the bizarre sparks in your brain dying to get out.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.memento-mori.es/product/thaumaturgy-pestilential-hymns/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.memento-mori.es/

I wish there was a little more mystery in metal because, with some exceptions, so much is out there in the open for everyone to devour. Especially in black metal, so much of what comprises that style is devious and morbid, and knowing exactly who’s in charge and what their agenda is kind of strips away some of the allure.

Black metal power Akolyth do not even have a home country to their name, and while we know the names (sort of) of the spirits involved—Sphere, Ærkun, D.—everything else is left to the imagination. Their second record “Ecstatic Kingdom” is a furious affair, one that feels buried in second-wave ash and interference and that also can be as savage as anything. Over four tracks and 39 minutes, this phantom pulls at your limbs, drags you into freezing torture, and lets you soar with them into the fucking stars.

“A Black Torch” opens awash in feedback before charging into shadowy, raw terrain, howls wrenching amid a storming force that easily envelopes you. The bass tramples as the guitars simmer, the pace continuing to pummel as melodies churn, and creaky howls fry. The leads spill as the pace intensifies, bursting through frozen tundra, spilling into the darkness. The title track has guitars firing, blazing through speedy passages, howls strangling and retching as your flesh blisters. The bass snakes as the guitars bleed into spacious atmospherics, everything pulling back for a spell to infuse oxygen. The track bursts again, relentless power bubbling out of veins, the guitars dominating before coming to a rampaging end.

“To Grow, Flourish and Conquer” basks in melodic leads, a daring pace, and a stormy pull that makes you weightless and vulnerable. Howls gurgle as the leads melt, the playing punishing before hitting a slower tempo and creating a strange hypnosis. It spills out of the other side as destructive as ever, the melodies flooding and turning ashen before blending into oblivion. Closer “Without Light” unfurls with murmuring speaking and a mysterious agenda before things get bloodier. The growls sound shrouded in spots, in your face in others, miasmal guitars making the confusion more pronounced and hypnotic. Guitars spiral and drill as the auras becomes more mesmerizing, floating into drums that deface and sickening growls. The tension continues to build into a bizarre haze, tricking your mind before the hammers fall again, the vocals splatter, and the final bursts send your mind into outer space.

“Ecstatic Kingdom” might, from its title, make you think you’re leaning into something that will lift your spirits, but it’s a bit of a misdirection. The album is packed with sharp-edged, volatile black metal that darkens skies and prepares you for grim tidings. This is an album that originates in the darkness and pulls you in for your own experience in the volatile shadows that lie beyond.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.amor-fati-productions.de/en/

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

There’s enough violence surrounding us in society right now, and I’ve gone on about it a lot, so let’s put that thing to the side for like 15 minutes. That’ll make sense in a second. Instead, let’s focus on audio violence, the type of music that pulls you into its grasp and takes you apart suddenly and thoroughly.

Barren Path combine former members of Gridlink and Maruta, and on their debut album “Grieving,” they decimate your senses on 12 tracks that last, combined, 13 minutes, 31 seconds. This is grindcore after all, and lengthy albums are not a part of that scene nor should they be. Unless there’s like 100 songs on there. Everything is sudden and manic as the band—vocalist Mitchell Luna, guitarists Rory Kobzina and Takafumi Matsubara, bassist Mauro Cordoba, drummer Bryan Fajardo—adds some interesting twists and turns, not the least of which is lead guitar work that’s a little flashier than what we come to expect from grind. It make this a little more electric in the midst of ferocity.

“Whimpering Echo” starts with drums splattering, Luna’s voice going back and forth from shrieks to growls in a heartbeat. The pace is maniacal, the lead guitars smoking hard, almost feeling like grind influenced by Zeppelin?  “Subversion Record” has growls marring and speed jetting, the electricity peaking and ripping out guts. “Primordial Black” brings commanding guitars and the dual vocal attack striking again, creating a daring, fast tempo that dizzies. “No Geneva” attacks right away, zany leads causing confusion, the bloodthirst reaching insane levels. The howls strangle as the drums explode, zapping into oblivion. “Isolation Wound” is metallic, so much so you can taste it, and riffs then rule as a tornadic force explodes. Growls gurgle before strange speaking emerges, the final moments detonating. “The Insufferable Weight” starts in a haze before rocketing, the deep battering taking its toll early. Deep growls roll in blood as madness spills out of every corner, the guitars continuing to add to the insanity as the drums flatten.

“Relinquish” is an all-out assault, the screams maiming before the pace changes, getting no less volatile. The playing spatters as death metal-style maiming leaves permanent scarring. “The Unreliable Narrator” has pained growls, guitars swaggering and dive bombing, painting attitude all over this monster. “Celestial Bleeding” is weirdly dreamy at the start, voices echoing into a robotic warp, the call of, “Together, yet so alone,” feeling digitally isolating. “Lunar Tear” is beastly with guitars racing, the pace trucking, and just when it seems it can’t get more intense, it somehow does. Growls and shrieks team to punish you mentally, while a monstrous explosion brings the pain to an end. “Horizonless” bruises, coming at a high rate of speed, harsh vocals scraping flesh, the guitars absolutely destroying. The playing stays fiery, smashing and dusting into a weird sheen that bubbles into closer “In the End… the Gift Is Death” that guts right away. The playing is catchy, and again the leads are infectious and simmering, the pace going impossibly fast. The drums murder as the guitars carve, rampaging right into cinder blocks.

If you thought “Grieving” had any solace to offer or, comically, some breathing room, be prepared to be absolutely unprepared for this battering. Barren Path’s first foray is a scorching one, an album that you can listen to completely on a short car trip but that will leave you flattened. If this is grind’s true future, it’s in violently good hands.

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

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

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

Thrash metal is an entirely different entity than it was in its heyday more than 30 years ago. In fact, other than the bands that were making the sound what it was at that time, there hasn’t been a lot of forward motion in this sub-genre. It’s been passed by, in a sense, with death, doom, and black metal taking charge and providing sounds more relevant to the chaos that faces us now.

Swiss thrashers Coroner did help formulate this sound, adding more technical and frostier notes to the art form, and on their comeback album “Dissonance Theory,” they put to rest whether this arm of metal remains relevant. Their first record in 32 years (the last was 1993’s “Grin”) is an open mouth into hell, a volatile, devastating, and much-needed reminder of what thrash can be and just how sharp its teeth are. Over 10 tracks and 47 minutes, the band—vocalist/guitarist Ron Royce, guitarist Tommy T. Baron, and new drummer Diego Rappachietti—pours power and vitriol into their work, but they also advance their boundaries a bit. Yeah, thrash is the base, but so is ferocity, and the continual progression of their aggression into meaner and deadlier forms make for an album that’ll tear your head clean off.   

“Oxymoron” opens and is a quick instrumental, sitting in a haze of creaks and whispers, squeezing into “Consequence” that gives you a real taste of what’s ahead, which is brutality. Riffs encircle as the pace properly mashes, feeling like they’ve purposely upped the ante. Royce’s howls snarl, feeling animalistic, while the chorus wraps around you. “No fun, no fun,” he wails, “This is no fun,” as the band swings back, making you think they actually are enjoying this pasting. “Sacrificial Lamb” starts in the shadows before trudging forward, Royce prodding, “Did I not make myself clear? Did I not warn repeatedly? These shall make war with the Lamb, and the Lamb will overcome them,” tongue dug into cheek. The savagery continue as the drums rivet, the guitars knife, and the soloing bursts from the seams. “I will come to redeem you,” Royce wails as everything thunders before bleeding away. “Crisium Bound” opens in a guitar fog before swinging hammers, battering as the howls smoke and the chorus crushes. The playing dips into cold, mystical waters before the soloing takes charge and commands, Royce insisting, “I become fire.” “Symmetry” is speedy as hell, the vocals taking direct aim, though I did flinch a little at the use of the word “peek-a-boo,” so there’s that. Otherwise, this is total ferocity, fluid leads gushing, howls carving, Royce calling, “Measure of all things — iste ego sum.”

“The Law” starts cleaner before the thrust pushes you back, though the pace is a little less harsh, though just as heated. Nasty howls tangle with gray melodies, the leads pulling into the edge of the fog. An airy chorus uplifts while the blistering returns for a spell, ending everything in tingling mystery. “Transparent Eye” has guitars stabbing, a hulking force dragging, and weird warps that buckle your sanity. Synth mixes in as the scene grows more atmospheric, brutality following closely behind, Royce wailing, “I am, I am part!” “Trinity” drips in with wiry riffs and Royce howling, “One lunatic, one madman is all it takes.” Isn’t that the fucking truth? The playing pummels as guitars rip, and even a darkening cloud coverage can’t obscure the anger and discontent, sinewy power capturing you and robbing you of air. “Renewal” stomps mercilessly, barked vocals making flesh crawl, rubbery riffs wrapping around your psyche. The ground quakes as Royce commands, “You gotta take what remains, brace yourself, steel yourself, be the harvester,” which should chill you. The playing combusts, atmosphere pushing conflicting winds toward riffs that loop viciously, smashing into instrumental closer “Prolonging” that basks in organs, a jazzy ambiance, and spirited sound smears. Light pokes holes through the ceiling as everything comes to a quiet, yet crumbling end as the echo of “What remains?” circles in your brain.

Coroner absolutely destroy expectations on “Dissonance Theory,” an album heavier and nastier than anyone had a right to expect. It’s been more than three decades away from the studio, yet these thrash legends not only added new life to their own mission, but they managed to forge their way into the future, proving their message and sound resonate. This was one of my most anticipated records of the year, and it delivers so hard that instead of listening to me, go listen to them and get utterly ravaged.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://centurymedia.store/

Or here (Europe): https://www.cmdistro.de/

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

A friend of mine, who is a little younger than I am, once told me he only could listen to thrash if it was blackened. Which always makes me think we’re talking about salmon or something. I feel like it was that age gap, the fact he didn’t live through the thrash glory days, that could be to blame, but the conversation did make me think about it a lot.

Then it dawned on me that the reason I find some much modern thrash so lacking is it isn’t always true to the originators (which isn’t a sin) or it’s not vicious enough. That made me pay more attention to thrash bands that injected black metal into their recipe, and Graveripper is one of the mightier ones in that field. The band’s new record “From Welkin to Tundra” ups the ante in a great way, adding more sinister black metal edges to their punishing formula. The band consists of vocalist/guitarist Corey Parks, bassist Steven Garcia, and drummer Nick James (the latter two joined since their 2023 debut LP “Seasons Dreaming Death”), and they pour vitriol generously and violently, making their brand of thrash burst with flames from the seams. This is fucking nasty.  

“Welkin, Now Tundra” is a nice, frosty intro, a sign of things to come as winds gust and guitars activate, barrelling into “Bring Upon Pain” that instantly chugs and blisters. The leads scorch as the vocals bathe in an evil, sinister blood stream, the pace carving you up. The leads erupt as the playing races harder, blasting out into hell. “Hexenhammer” is a proper mauler, bringing frigid black metal that trucks and howls that maim. “There is no return!” Parks wails, the guitars catching fire, strong energy pulsing through veins before the final order of, “Tear the world apart.” “Death’s Cold Embrace” enters amid a flurry of guitars as words are spat in monstrous growls, the speedy pace blinding with vicious intent. Melody washes over as the tempo hits a higher gear, strange visions flooding your senses. “Sanctioned Slaughter” is mashing, throaty howls flexing, a sense of savagery overwhelming and pulsing. The melodies get catchier as the gas pedal is jammed through the floor, the wail of, “No remorse!” coursing through your veins.

“Hounds From Hell” is fast, punchy, and thrashy, growly snarls pouring sand in wounds. The intensity keeps skyrocketing, and the simple, yet effective chorus absolutely crushes, slowly fading away. “No Gods, No Masters” clobbers, black metal frostiness letting freezing extremities ache, the guitars chugging through fluidity. Brutal bass chews on muscle, shoving into jarring pressure, mashing bodies as it heads to the other side. “…And Now It’s Dark” has the bass leading the way with authority, the guitars spiralling away, the vocals snapping like a whip. The pace goes hard, absolutely shredding faces, the playing then hulking and bludgeoning to the finish. “Bullet Laden Crown” has guitars tangling before diving fully into thrash, harsh howls teaming up with vein-ripping riffs. The guitars then simmer as the drums pace through a surge of madness that can crush a wall. Closer “Burning Barren Plains” darts in suddenly, a melodic chorus making your heart jump, harsh cries twisting already bruised muscle. Guitars heat up before fully igniting, heavily catapulting forward and steamrolling toward a volcanic finish.

Graveripper’s black/thrash metal hybrid is mightier and more sinister on “From Welkin to Tundra,” some of the most savage tracks in the band’s run. The more wintry elements added to their formula is a nice touch, and it actually gives added room for the thrash elements to thrive. The album is a real motherfucker, one that brings down the hammer repeatedly in as vicious a manner possible.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://graveripper.bandcamp.com/album/from-welkin-to-tundra

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