It’s not very cold right now. Actually, this week, in my hometown, we’re pushing the upper 80s and a huge wave of unclean air. Thank fuck all the corporations told us the environment is doing OK! I even miss massive, frigid winters where we were guaranteed a handful of crippling snow storms that would relegate us to our homes for days and that would look like a majestic wintry landscape.

It’s been about as long as those types of winters happened as we’ve heard from Imperial Crystalline Entombment, who have remained silent for nearly two full decades. The planet has gotten noticeably warmer (again, lack of actual winter for years), but taking on this band’s electrifying new record “Ancient Glacial Resurgence,” their first since 2004’s landmark “Apocalyptic End in White,” is like facing a destructive blizzard head on. The band—vocalist IceSickKill, guitarist/backing vocalist Bleak, bassist Blisserred, drummer Mammoth—runs frigidly roughshod over 10 tracks and 44 minutes of power in a way few bands not named Immortal have captured, celebrating the most unforgiving season we have. This is exciting and coursing, music that’s both icy and scalding in a way that makes total sense once you hear it.

“Into a Frigid Bleak Infinity” tears open with the melodies whipping with power, driving into blinding winds as the shrieks peel at prone flesh. Chaos rains down as the guitars swell, a huge burst blows you backward, and the final blows leave bloody marks. “Eternal Subzero Torment” blasts as the riffs race, and blackness pours out of cosmic wounds as screams smash with urgency. The guitars rip through and manage to add some heat to the glacial freeze, thrashing and dashing before ending in fury. “Cataclysmic Glaciation” is crunching and calculated, ramping up as it goes, eventually rampaging and splattering with power. “The end is near!” IceSickKill wails as guitars jolt and wrench, and clobbering blasts stretch your muscles cruelly. “Of Blizzards and Banshees” rams open, tearing down ramparts, the melodies rippling through the sky. The howls crush as the guitars char, savagery spewing from every opening, a devastating and mystical storm breaking spines in two. “Ravaskeith’s Crystalline Return” bring embroiling guitars, menacing storms, and generous amounts of power. The riffs cut down the middle as the drums come alive and plaster, shrieks storm and pay off the fury, and all elements pile on dangerously, racing to a finish that dissolves in static.

“Petrified Cadaverous Wastelands” starts like a dream, immersing your brain in wonders as the bodily damage is being done. Moody weirdness spirals as a punishing force emerges and stains psyches, IceSickKill urging, “Accept our offerings we have brought you,” as the twisted forces eat away at minds. “Savage Blizzard Stabbings” is a strange journey at first, the dream state giving off an unsettling aura. Cold and forceful, the riffs bring a stinging backlash, the guitars carving through ice and overwhelming as it pounds away. It’s like being in the midst of a blast furnace, a psyche wash making things disorienting, your breath present in front of you as your extremities tingle from the punishment. “Opening the Imperial Gates” is warped, and you’re greeting by devastating shrieks and confounding guitars, smoke mixing with the freezing winds. “Open the arctic gates!” IceSickKill demands as the playing thrashes away, sweeping into madness as the track spins into the ground. “Ancient Lords of White Death” explodes with stabbing guitars and dramatic swipes, grisly violence destroying mentally and physically. Classic black metal riffs arrive and freeze your beating heart, the howls coat with darkness, and the guitars zap, leaving the room spinning. Closer “Born to Freeze” begins ominously before the howls arrive and darken the sun, the chaos welling and bringing vile elements. It feels like you’re being gutted as the playing adds pressure, and then things seem to end as the power fades. It’s a trick as seconds later, everything restarts, howls scrape, and a glorious burst buries you under the ice.

It’s been a long time since Imperial Crystalline Entombment have haunted our world, and despite our globe experiencing higher temperature than normal, this band finds a way to deliver painful ice burns. These 10 tracks are maniacal and filled with a warped energy that feels like the band letting loose and making up for lost time by contorting our brains and bodies. This is a record and band that show no mercy, and once you’re in their clutches, your cries for mercy will go unheeded as you’re taken apart and submerged in ice piece by piece.

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

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

Or here (Europe): https://www.debemur-morti.com/en/12-eshop

For more on the label, go here: https://www.debemur-morti.com/en/

If you were to put on a record with the foreknowledge that the music you’re hearing almost tore the band to shreds, you sure as hell would want to get that indication from the art itself. There have been plenty of records that ended bands, but how many can you name off the top of your head that became a part of your musical DNA? I’m sure there are some decent ones somewhere?

When it comes to Los Angeles wreckers Sprain, that whole idea is stretched to the maximum as they were put to the test with their latest creation. Their new record “The Lamb as Effigy,” known in full as “The Lamb As Effigy or Three Hundred And Fifty XOXOXOS For A Spark Union With My Darling Divine,” is an experience. If you’re easily rattled by music that’s bluntly honest and exposed, you might want to consider your surroundings before tackling this. Trauma is front and center, the words can pierce your flesh, and the music feels like a living, breathing organism that was made up on the spot, which makes it feel so damn spontaneous. It’s not a metal record, though the band—vocalist/guitarist Alex Kent, guitarist Sylvie Simmons, bassist April Gerloff, percussionist Clint Dodson—does weave a nice amount of doom into the mix. Slowcore and post-hardcore, loosely, can be used as descriptors, but this goes beyond adjectives. It’s a full human display that often goes very off track, needling you and eating into the fragile brain you refuse to acknowledge as such. This is therapy.

“Man Proposes, God Disposes” opens with strings taunting and making the unease sink in like an injection, the sprawling talk-singing coming off like a mentally wounded person wandering the halls. Swollen basslines and angular guitars scorch as Kent howls, “I will be your target, I will stand here like an idiot with an apple on my head.” The rant continues, guilt crushes, and the tirade of, “Animals eat animals, et cetera, animals fuck animals, et cetera,” lets the unraveling continue, pulsating and scorching, noise swirling and threatening, melting out but refusing to leave. “Reiterations” has wild howls and jarring singing, a pace that eases by, but the tension beneath is impossible to ignore. The playing quivers as the vocals ache, the strain feeling more cumbersome, drums rumbling and strange talking making it feel like your own mental health is cratering. “Privilege of Being” creaks as guitars rain, noises curdle, and the singing warbles, feeling mightily unsteady as the track purposefully deteriorates. Things begin to feel dirgey, the strings enveloping, drama stretching, and the power slowly dripping into oblivion. “Margin for Error” is the second-longest track by a single second at 24:37 and one that lets time snake into oblivion, organs ringing, and Kent’s croon doubling over. Liturgical turns take things into darker, gentler territory, and then the sounds build and swarm, your guts swimming in your stomach. The power jolts and spirals, the guitars crush with a heavy gaze, and a doom sheen spreads, the sounds making an engine-like whir, melting and then unexpectedly calming.

“The Commercial Nude” runs 10:55, and guitars scorch and create a laser-like blast, acoustics rush in as sounds blip, and then the power churns as the vocals turn smoother, more elegant. Guitars bustle and bash, the drums leave blisters on your face, piano drips and layers the fog, and the melodies feel lonesome and pained. That settles over the horizon, devoured with the setting sun. “The Reclining Nude” stretches for 12:56, pianos wailing, sounds crashing, an emotional swell taking over as the torment spills over the lid. Drums jar as the keys bring echo and darkness, and then things soften, the drums pattering and weaving, the guitars awakening and agitating. Calm tries to wedge between the tense moments, piano trickles through the blood streaks, and everything slowly fades into dirt. “We Think So Ill of You” immediately digs in, metallic wires frayed, the drums bashing and crushing wills to continue. It feels part horror house, part mental deterioration, Kent’s direct singing feeling like an accusatory finger in the chest. The words warble as shocking jolts tear down your spine, electrifying your cells, Kent scathing, “And you just kill me off in the film you’re directing.” The spite is undeniable as is the pressure that increases. All wires are tangled, paranoia spills over in strange visions and fears, and the direct blasts leave spattered flesh and bone behind. Closer “God, or Whatever You Call It” is the longest track, running 24:38, letting guitars confound and confuse, speed blasting unexpectedly, everything causing central nervous system trauma. Singing chortles as the scars create tributaries, forceful explosions feel like warped promises, and the band creates an off-the-cuff atmosphere, seeming like everything you hear surprised them as much as it does you. It’s a cacophony, almost a summary of the madness you encountered before this stretch, the jangling playing and lucid dreaming uniting. The final minutes are the most concerning as the sounds calm and often disappear entirely as Kent stutters, shakes, and contorts, at one point walking away from the mic and howling in the background, “I can’t sing if you’re looking at me!” He then manically counts, gasps, tries to regain composure, and then the music magically rejoins him like golden beams from the heavens, washing him and the listener in warmth, crashing out and finally embracing rest after days and days awake and falling apart.

In no way is “The Lamb as Effigy” an easy listen. It’s hard to get through, a challenge mentally, and a true marathon of psychological pain and darkness wrapped into an unpredictable, often stabbing, sometimes serene hour and 40 minutes. There’s also no question Sprain created an incredible document you’ll not soon shake or forget, as the eight songs here find a way to take root and tear through  your body. It almost ended them. This is an experience as much as it is an album, a naked exposure of minds in pain, wounds not healing, and the only way to cope being to throw every bit of ache at the wall and hoping it crashes down and consumes you whole.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://nowflensing.com/collections/sprain

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

Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat this: There is death metal that seems disgusting on the surface but ultimately is just a show. And there’s nothing wrong with that. There also is death metal that is so vile and rotting, you practically can taste the decay in your mouth, ruining your appetite for as long as it takes to shake that horrific sense from your shaking bones.

Danish destroyers Undergang long have felt like a boiling sore in your mouth waiting to burst, and I actually mean that as a compliment. For the past decade and a half, this band—vocalist/guitarist D. Torturdød, guitarist/backing vocalist Mads Haarløv, bassist Martin Leth Andersen, drummer A. Dødshjælp—has created music that seems to have the sole intent of making you painfully dry heave. Again, it’s a compliment. The band is back with a new MLP called “De syv stadier af fordærv,” which means “the seven stages of depravity,” and they really don’t hold anything back, which is expected when it comes to Undergang. Over seven tracks and 21 minutes, you’re beaten severely as they practically regurgitate in your mouth and force you to swallow, leaving you writhing and wailing on the floor, your body never having been this disgusted ever. Compliment.

“Død” is grisly and heavy right off the bat, which is pretty par for the course for Undergang. Torturdød’s growls snort and snarl, practically giving off a film, and then things get uglier and more penetrative. Alien-like muck blots out any light, and the gross vocals end up on the ground like a puddle of stale puke. “Mælkehvid og gennemsigtigt” is trudging and heavy, brutally oppressive, punching and slowly battering amid the belchy vocals. Everything bathes in filth as the playing blasts back, encircles, threatens with menace and rolls its victims in the mud. “Livløs i en pøl af egne udskillelser” burns its way in before turning into a sinewy, gamey bruiser, pounding away as the growls soak in acid. The guitars heat up and let the fire spread dangerously, causing the humidity to rise, the stench to increase, and the final impulses zap inside your brain.

“Dødsstivhed” is a fast one, bringing ominous tones and burly speed, the growls warping and curdling, and the track heading out before you know what hit you. “Misfarvning af liget” thrashes and causes bodily damage, the corrosion eating away at skeletal structures and leaving nothing but holes. The vocals plaster as spindly guitars add pressure to your throat, disappearing into a foggy haze. “Forrådnelse” stinks with buzzing insects feeding, the growls blistering and drawing blood. The playing is a mashing assault, feeling dark and sooty, melting the flesh from faces, the buzzing riffs causing brush burns that congeal and stick to your clothes. Closer “Skeletisering” ends the album in a blinding blast as the guitars fire up, and the growls get even gnarlier. The assault is fiery and smoky, making breathing difficult and unpleasant, burying everything in black piss.

Undergang’s caveman reek is alive and well on “De syv stadier af fordærv,” and never has their depravity been more apparent than on this vile mini LP. The band remains as unsettling and nausea-inducing as ever before, but you can’t help but notice that you’re having a good time all while trying to avoid heaving. There aren’t a lot of surprises here, but there doesn’t need to be. This is death metal served as brutally and disgustingly a possible in an aura only this band can create.  

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.darkdescentrecords.com/shop/?s=undergang&post_type=product

Or here: https://www.mesacounojo.com/shop/undergang-de-syv-stadier-af-fordaerv-mlp/

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

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

Every part of life is a cycle from beginning to end and everything in the middle. We’re born, we slowly form who we are as people, we go out into the world and make something of ourselves (whatever that means), we grow old, and then we leave this planet, letting other people take our place. It’s simple and heartbreaking, but it’s the way things must go until the world itself ceases to exist (which could be any time now).

You’ll probably get the idea that Black Birch was onto that thinking on their debut EP that is self-titled, though the chronology might seem a bit off when seeing the track names in sequence for the first time. Perhaps that’s by design, but there’s a more grandiose scheme at work that ends with new life. Whatever it is, it packs an emotional punch on this four-track album but this duo—vocalist/guitarist/bassist Gina Wiklund (also of Gasp) and drummer/guitarist/bassist/backing vocalist Ulf Blomberg (Gace.Will.Fall, Palmless)—makes sure you also are overwhelmed by the sound. Both came up in the hardcore and punk worlds, and this is their initial stab at black metal, which is stunning considering how effectively they navigate this sound and add their own raw, DIY ethos to the movement. I’m super excited to hear where this band goes from here, and they plan to release a new track each month for the rest of the year, assuring we get to witness this evolution in real time.

“Fallen” begins cleanly and rather serenely, but that doesn’t last very long. The track slowly forms into a raging storm, tearing apart as a melodic explosion, a tornadic surge that develops out of the atmosphere. Energy floods as Wiklund’s shrieks destroy, steamrolling as the momentum continues to build, firing with great force before fading out. “Death” rips open and devastates, cooling just for a moment before taking a more tempered pace. The playing turns fluid and savage, pulling you apart limb from limb, pummeling with speed and color, blasting its way to the finish. “Soil” cooly drips as thunder strikes, guitars gaze, and a blistering force takes over, the shrieks mauling as everything crashes to the ground. The playing coats with power, the guitars churn and create a thick fog, slowing to let the storm take a greater hold. A final burst makes the ground quake, the pace is stampeding, and the violent torque makes your neck ache. “Birth” closes the EP with intensity and urgency, a black fury making its presence felt, the guitars destroying everything. It’s a total force, the shrieks draw marrow from bones, and finally everything exits into the cold, fading into nothingness.

Considering this is the duo’s first foray into black metal with Black Birch, it’s impressive how fully they grasp the aesthetic, majesty, and power of the subgenre on this debut EP. It’s also exciting to know this is just the first dose, as the band plans to continue etching their mark in this unforgiving style, ensuring we can watch and hear them grow along the way. This is an impressive and emotional strike, a great injection of passion into black metal’s kingdom.

By the way, both Vita Detestabilis Records and Fiadh Productions have a massive slew of new releases coming out seemingly every day, and there’s a lot of great stuff worth your time and money. I’m one guy, so I can’t cover it all here, but if you visit their respective Bandcamps and check out some of the music they have in the pipeline, you’re bound to discover something that’ll excite the fuck out of you.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/album/black-birch

Or here: https://vitadetestabilisrecords.bandcamp.com/album/black-birch

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

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

Expectations can be a destructive thing, making someone feel extra and often unneeded pressure when trying to create something or do a job. The anxiety can get to you and circumvent your creativity and effectiveness, and questioning oneself can become damaging and threatening to what you’re trying to accomplish. Saying fuck it and going with your gut sometimes is the best way forward.

Philly death metal dreamers Horrendous made the decision to forget the outside noise and block what other people say about them and their art and made a motherfucker of a progressively vicious record “Ontological Mysterium.” This band already was one of the more forward-thinking groups in all of death metal, having made four previous records that challenged and confounded on different levels. This one just feels different, like the band—guitarist/vocalist Damian Herring, guitarist/vocalist Matt Knox, bassist Alex Kulick, drummer Jamie Knox—decided to design their own style of death metal DNA, one that twists and toys with your psyche, presenting an adventure that few other artists could realize. It’s a 38-minute jolt of electricity and dexterity, one of the most exciting thing this quartet of creators ever spawned.

“The Blaze” dawns with whispering swirling in the air, guitars slowly opening, and a combo of wild calls and shrieks combining, sprawling and flowing into “Chrysopoeia (The Archaeology of Dawn)” that envelopes in progressive dreams and power. Crazed shrieks attack the senses, nastiness and ferocity meet in the middle, and Herring wails, “I will coax you out like vermin hiding in every crawl space in your heart, and you’ll flow out, blinding.” The pace changes up and steamy leads burn, making breathing difficult, clean warbles causing  you to question your sanity as things storm to a close. “Neon Leviathan” open with the rhythm section pulsing, the guitars enrapturing as the pace continues to build. Strange alien effects make you try to grasp sanity, or at least something steady, the soloing lights up the sky, and speed becomes a more immersive factor, bleeding into mystical strangeness. “Aurora Neoterica” is an instrumental with slinking bass snaking through blood, and a dreamy ambiance taking hold and immediately dropping your body temperature, basking in peculiar energies.

“Preterition Hymn” slithers into nightmares, the guitars heat up, and vicious shrieks rain down nails of terror. A strong bassline acts as a spine as tangling guitars and a vicious pace grow like muscle around it, the waters getting unsettlingly warmer. “Arise in flame, Enochian, I’m robed in flame, Enochian, free from this dream, Enochian,” is chanted, twisting your mind, flowing out in mellotron haze. “Cult of Shaad’oah” thrashes in, wild howls taking on your sanity. The vocals crush as the playing opens oceanlike with possibilities, both rushing and crushing, soothing and aggravating. Lashing back at gods who questioned, the viciousness gets deeper and spookier, crazed howls peel back eyelids, and the final moments drop like bombs. “Exeg(en)esis” starts with a robotic voice serenely conveying messages, but you notice you’re anything but calm. Guitars open and pick up their adventurous desires, strange voices circulating in the skies, speed jolting before everything disappears into a vacuum. The title track brings bending riffs and animalistic howls, thrashy meanness rising, cries echoing behind. The playing rampages as the guitars charge, storming and swelling, everything ending in blood. Closer “The Death Knell Ringeth” is a lash back at expectation and those who question, with the howl of, “Anemic dinosaur drunk on nostalgia, clinging to crumbling walls, wipe that grin off your smug face before I teach you what life’s about.” Hazy guitars and slinking bass unite while the tempo is mashing and warped, the violent tendencies come to a head, and everything slowly fades into oblivion, the final death bell signaling the end.

“Ontological Mysterium” is a document from a band that already twisted brains into pretzels finding new and exciting ways to be bafflingly next level. Horrendous have been on a mission to contort death metal to their desire ever since they started, and even with four challenging records on their resume before this one, they refuses to tread familiar territory. This record took a few visits to grow on me, but once these electrifying, thought-provoking songs sunk in, everything made sense in a different way that could not be understood before visiting with this album.   

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

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

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

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

The asshole who used to run the Washington NFL football franchise would spend every offseason trying to put together practical all-star teams to try to buy a championship. It never worked. In fact, it never came remotely close to working. It failed hilariously over and over, and it’s even more enjoyable now that we all know how truly shitty that guy is.

Swedish death metal crew Grand Cadaver manage to pull off what so many sports team owners fail to do, that being putting together a team of heavy hitters well known from other forces into a group that easily gels and kills. Featuring current and former members of bands including Dark Tranquillity, Katatonia, the Halo Effect, Disrupted, Expulsion, and plenty of others, this band—vocalist Mikael Stanne: Vocals, guitarists Stefan Lagergren and Alex Stjernfeldt, bassist Christian Jansson, drummer Daniel Liljekvist—smashes expectations yet again with their thunderous second full-length “Deities of Deathlike Sleep.” This follow-up to their debut LP “Into the Maw of Death” is another serving of the good stuff, that being raw, yet melodic death metal that lays waste and proves a team of dependable veterans can work together and create something destructive in a positive way.

“The Forever Doom” just unloads, Stanne’s raw howls overpowering, great speed and energy uniting. The playing goes cold, and mystical powers radiate, burning with precision before blasting out. “A Crawling Feast of Decay” rampages out of the gates, crushing with nasty force that is thrashing and gutting. Guitars catch fire as the howls dig deep into your chest, landing their final blows by dealing copious amounts of filth. “The Wishful Dead” brings tangling guitars and a pace that gets heated in a hurry, the growls totally scathing. The pace continues to mash, paving the way for a strong chorus that overwhelms, slaying to the track’s ominous finish. “Serrated Jaws” opens in the midst of anger and violence, Stanne howling, “Go for the jugular, go for the kill.” The melodies smoke, but the atmosphere is threatening, the guitars ripping and torching, everything coming to a buzzing finish. The title track has the drums whipping everything into shape, the playing racing and putting on the pressure that sparks fight-or-flight tendencies. “I can feel it now, I can feel it dying,” Stanne belts, the band bashing hard, encircling with fire and impenetrable heat.

“Vortex of Blood” trashes with blazing leads and a D-beat pace that feels like it’s putting your bones in a blender. The drums pummel as the guitars leave deep scarring, the growls boom, and sinewy destruction flexes with nastiness. “Funeral Reversal” is one of the best song titles of the year, and the band ensures the music is just as memorable. The playing sometimes slithers, at other times it comes at you like a feral beast, collecting carnage and vile energies, splattering to an abrupt end. “True Necrogeny” brings muscular power as the growls stretch your already vulnerable muscles, everything turning morbidly grisly. Melody and fire combine, Stanne’s powerful vocals send jolts of voltage, and the miasma of pain bleeds away. “Stabbed With Frozen Blood” is another tremendous title, and it unleashes a thrashy assault, getting you prone on the ground as they painfully pound away. The guitars cut through the center as if going for the heart, start/stop crushing makes the waves of pain even more intense, and the final minutes comes unglued before disappearing into smog. Closer “Necrosanctum” is eerie when it opens, but it’s not long until the hammers drop. The growls punish and unite with a mangling force, picking up speed and ill intent, strange keys making the fog thicker. Wild howls emerge, the pressure mounts, and the final stabs swing out in the darkness.

Tossing a group of well-respected, heavily traveled death metal veterans onto the same team isn’t absolutely a recipe for success, but Grand Cadaver have made it work and destructively so. “Deities of Deathlike Sleep” is more than a worthy successor to their pleasantly surprising debut, and if anything, the blood has gotten thicker and more poisonous. This is rough, driving death metal played with precision and power, letting these accomplished forces breathe shockingly monstrous new life.

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

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

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

Black metal and thrash are two things that don’t seem like they belong together. Black metal was born deadly serious, ready to ravage churches with fire, actually paying off with violent crime. Also, assholes. Thrash, on the other hand, certainly had its devious tendencies, but it always seemed a little more fun, something that you can turn off your brain and allow to ravage you. Also, fewer assholes. But not none!

Anyway, whoever had the idea to fuse thrash with black metal probably did it by chance, and we’ve had plenty of bands try their hand at it with mixed results. One of the deadlier bands that have made that their formula is Indianapolis machine GraveRipper, who have followed up their promising smaller releases with their awesome debut full-length “Seasons Dreaming Death.” Over 10 tracks and an economical 33 minutes, the band—vocalist/guitarist Corey Parks, guitarist Keegan Hrybyk, bassist Chris Pilotte, drummer Jacob Lett—totally lays waste to anyone who encounters this firebreather of an album. It’s a thrash record, for sure, and the black metal seasoning acts as a way to make things bloodier and sharper, adding ominous melodies to a base that’s packed with firepower.

“Into the Grave” dawns by taking aim immediately, thrashing with vicious intent, Parks’ screamy howls digging right into your spine. The energy is off the charts, throwing punches, chugging with smoking horrors, the leads going off to nail down the snarling end. “Ripped and Torn Apart” launches with a nasty swagger, the vocals smashing with no mercy and a great surge turning sharply into ominous terrain. A black metal-style haze hangs overhead as the band keeps crushing wills, taking a calculated approach to removing your head. “Divine Incantations” hovers before exploding, the speed taking off and accompanied by savage guitar work. The playing encircles while the melodies spill over, blasting with colorful assaults, spiraling fast and ripping into the earth. The title cut tears open, gruff but melodic howls gripping throats, the mangling pace chugging with chaos. The leads get warmer, which tricks you into comfort, and then everything explodes again and ends in blood. “Premeditated” adds merciless pressure, scathing vocals scraping flesh from bone, the drums destroying everything in its path. Melodies well as blackened glory builds, plastering with ferocity and melting into lava.

“Influx of Fear” unloads spiraling guitars that blister and a raging attack that challenges your sanity. The thrashy impulses return, this time gnarlier, the leads take off for the sun, and the stampeding pushes back and buries you in rubble. “Resist Against the Light” opens with techy guitars that are smart but also bloody, and things start to feel like vintage Megadeth. Nasty howls barrel through as the guitars buzzsaw, the power pummels, and thick basslines ram through like a train, blasting out with electric terror. “Red Skies” lets riffs erupt and take over, raw howls scathing, and the band letting more of a punk feel flex its muscles. The guitars spurt colors, igniting and lathering, rounding the final minutes with a punishing push that powders bones. “And I Curse Reality” blasts from the gates, and the guitar work easily scorches, teasing and then delivering pain. The melodies grow humid and sticky, the propulsive pace makes your heart work overtime, and the end is smothering and sudden. “Only Coldness” closes the record and starts by going for infectious tones, beastly howls pummeling and fires licking the walls. The guitars explode and leave spatter and bone, the playing hits a boil before rupturing again, and a last explosion lands the final blows, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

GraveRipper’s combo of aggressive thrash and black metal majesty make their style of carnage deadlier than most, which can be witnessed in full on “Seasons Dreaming Death.” The lines teetering between the living and the dead that the band details on this pounder of a record makes it not only chilling but perversely exciting, making it perfect musical fodder for the oncoming haunting season. Or you can push the terrors aside and just thrash your brains out, whatever works for you. Either way, this is a great slab of blackened thrash that feels deadly and true, something we’ll revisit often.

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

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

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

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

I was fortunate enough to grow up at the tail end of metal’s formative years, so I remember when bands like Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, and Metallica were at their apex and some of the most powerful forces in music. Having taken that decades-long adventure also means I’ve heard sounds and styles come, change, and sometimes go, as well as the genre getting reborn when newer bands try their hands at things.

French force Meurtrieres sound like a band that easily could have been at home in the end of the 1970s and early 1980s and not seemed out of place at all. Their throwback style sounds inspired by the New Wave of British Heavy Metal and the followers of that movement, almost as if no time had passed since that era. Their killer first full-length record “Ronde De Nuit” (translates to “night watch”) is arriving, and it’s a blast for someone like me who has experienced so much metal history. The band—vocalist Fiona (she’s a newcomer and a fucking awesome force, replacing Fleur who sang on their self-titled debut EP), guitarists Flo Spector and Olivier, bassist Xavier, drummer Thomas—delves into medieval stories and inspiration taken from classical paintings, making those iconic scenes come to life. The lyrics are in French, so I can’t tell you much about the content, but that language barrier wasn’t a blocker from fully engaging and being ignited by this great piece of classic-style heavy metal.  

“Rubicon” surges open, feeling stylistically like pre-Bruce Maiden, galloping hard as Fiona’s singing takes hold. The playing is spirited and strong, and even when the pace slows, the water still sits at a low boil until the intensity climbs again, ending in a halo of fire. “Aucun Homme, Aucun Dogme, Aucune Croix” brings vintage-style riffs and the playing slinking, Fiona out front in total command. The whole thing is punchy and infectious, bringing power kicking hard, guitars heating up and rushing, and a spirit that feels as old as metal itself reborn in 2023. “Tempête & Naufrage” has bubbling leads as the signing crushes, zapping hard past you, robbing you of breath. Fiery melody grips like a stranglehold, the soloing then explodes and spills colors, blasting back with fervor, bringing everything to a massive end.

The title track keeps pouring the fuel on the fire, the verses surging with explosive energy, and then the playing hits a tornadic force. Fiona’s singing hits a higher register, and the playing backs her with more bravado, making your blood zip through your veins. “Alma Mater” takes off, the verses spiked with power, the drums pulsing, the chorus letting loose. Later, the playing chugs, and a fluid solo follows, enveloping everything in glory before the final jolts loosen teeth. “Chevaleresses Du Chaos” takes its time coming to life, but once it does, it swaggers with authority, bringing smoke and blanketing everything with its charring heat. Fiona’s singing goes a little raspier in spots, and then the dual leads flex and rip through a growing fog, steamrolling to a dominant finish. Closer “La Revenante” charges through the gates, boasting an animalistic fury, Fiona’s singing trudging over your heart. Again, the band channels early Maiden, only edgier, all of the elements belting out and nailing souls to the floor.

As a sucker for the NWOBHM sound and the forces that came after that, Meurtrieres easily nail that sweet spot in my brain for this type of sound. “Ronde De Nuit” is a total force, one that’s a step up from where the band operated previously, and having Fiona out front elevates everything to a really special place. This is a fun, rollicking record, one that’ll make you want a sword in hand, ready for battle.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.cruzdelsurmusic.com/store/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.gatesofhellrecords.com/

Death cannot be avoided, which is an unfortunate fact of our existence. We ourselves only have a limited stay on this planet, and as our time goes on, we also watch loved ones pass, both human and animal, and it can have a profound impact that lingers forever. Yet, spirits can live on in our lives and hearts, and the emotions we feel can be interwoven into the beings we no longer can see and feel physically.

On “Ghost at the Gallows,” the tremendous fifth full-length effort from Spirit Adrift, death is around every corner. Having had it as a theme in longtime band leader Nate Garrett’s life, the eight songs that make up this latest creation do bask in the loss but also triumph. The vocalist/guitarist stitched together a world where we’re surrounded by ghosts that bring on trauma and loss, but there’s also strength and triumph to be experienced, and these songs can be downright uplifting. On this record, Garrett is joined by guitarist Tom Draper (also of Pounder), bassist Sonny DeCarlo (Goya), and drummer Mike Arellano (Disfigured, Indisgust) to help flesh out this dynamic journey. We’ve long been fans of the band at this site, but this might be their best work. Each visit, these tracks grow and consume your mind, the roots growing into your mind and heart as the music connects, and the themes solidify.  

“Give Her to the River” has a tempered open, setting the stage for what’s to come, and then the energy comes. “In the fire we transform,” Garrett howls, “in the water we’re reborn,” as the chorus gets lodged in your brain. Fires are set as the soloing takes over and lathers, a spirited corkscrew that energizes as the calm waters at the end soothe. “Barn Burner” lets the riffs ignite on a punchier track that also is the album’s first single. “Light your torches, just remember you’ll be the next to burn,” Garrett calls over the sticky chorus, and then the guitar work takes over and stretches its wings. The playing mashes hard as the chorus loops back again, leaving you with a stark reminder. “Hanged Man’s Revenge” jolts, the drums crushing, a fiery, heavy pace taking hold and pulling you with it. The soloing picks up and carries the fire, sizzling before doomy strains add thick coats of soot, everything fading into a sound warp. “These Two Hands” is softer to start, acoustic strains raining down, reflective tones pulling the shadows over your eyes. Guitars open up as a sunburnt effect warms the flesh, and the emotions rise, turning more hopeful and immersed in glory. “All that I am changed forever, I have to believe it gets better,” Garrett urges, the playing slowly fading into time.

“Death Won’t Stop Me” brings swelling guitars and a swampy vibe, mashing with defiance as the screws are turned. “There’s an anger that’ll never go away,” Garrett jolts, the playing both heated and catchy, blaring into your eardrums before silence consumes everything. “I Shall Return” is a gem in the back half of the record, sounding a bit like “Crazy Train” as it starts, treating tragedy with triumph. “If I leave I shall return,” Garrett calls, paying mind to presence of souls we have lost and their continual existence in our hearts and minds. The soloing lights up and scorches, bringing a snap of power, finally ending in a smashing blaze. “Siren of the South” is thrashy as hell when it starts, and then it goes more mystical, chugging and trucking as the pace delivers twisting changes. “She speaks through me trying to get to you,” Garrett wails as a medium, stop/start mangling adds to the heaviness, and the final moments laser across the night sky. The stunning title track ends the album by mashing right away, the verses melting and flowing like lava, ominous visions imparted as Garrett insists, “I’ll never break free.” The guitar work gets warmer, exhaling ashy, bluesy smoke, going cold for a stretch, and returning to haunt again. Things then turn properly psychedelic, Garrett making spiritual connections to those who have passed on, and the energy crescendos, fading into a cloud of mystery.

We’ve all been touched by loss and grief, and trying to build back from that and live meaningful lives can lead to guilt and the feeling that we’ve somehow let down those we love. “Ghost at the Gallows” addresses that anxiety, pain, fear, and sadness and, in turn, reminds us those relationships don’t have to end, and we can find solace in power in the times we have spent together. Spirit Adrift always deliver their style of fiery heavy metal with emotion, but this might be their most impactful record and statement yet, proving the lessons taught here were taken to heart and can make us feel alive again even in our darkest times.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://centurymedia.store/dept/spirit-adrift

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

Getting older is really strange, and as a person who has definitely passed some time, I can attest that it’s a regular occurrence when you look back and wonder how it’s been like 30 years since you graduated high school. For example, obviously. But for me, there are times in my life where I wish I could lock myself, and funny enough, it’s not when I was appreciably younger. But that’s not possible.

Metallic destroyers Nott consists of just two members—vocalist/guitarist/bassist Tyler Campbell and drummer Julia Geaman—and both have had uprooting sojourns to where they are now. Their incredible new record is called “Hiraeth,” a Welsh word with no direct meaning but that the band posits as standing for the longing for what once was and to which one cannot go back. That’s a devastating idea, but it’s not foreign to most people. We all long for a time when meanings for certain things were imprinted in our brains and that probably seems like the best times we ever had. Accompanying that thinking is a record that is impossibly heavy, sometimes in ways that you’d think humans couldn’t realize, but here we are. It’s a monster of a record, and it both kills with force and draws you into the theme.

“Torn” starts atmospherically, but it doesn’t take long to turn ugly as beastly playing and deep, engorging growls begin to do ample damage. The playing gets fiery and savage, pulling you under without mercy, the growls corroding flesh, growing staggeringly heavy as the slow torture finally releases its grip.  “Stasis” is gargantuan, a total monster scraping across the earth, Campbell somehow sounding even more inhuman. The aura is muddy and gashing, the drums let loose and completely destroy, and the growls sicken, making the contents of your stomach thrash wildly, the final blasts pushing the bile and acid to burst onto the pavement. “Null” is a brief breather, but it also lends no rest as the weird transmission makes everything feel unsettling, the eerie guitars summoning a fog that blasts into “Rend” that completely envelopes. Wild howls slash as the bass flexes its muscles, massive jarring heavily taxing your nervous system. Snarling energy splashes with muddy waves, and the guitars truck hard, sludging and marring, decimating until the playing finally drops its last.

“Stare” is fiery and deadly, a pulverizing experience that leans heavily into your psyche and refuses to pull back. Mechanical terror opens its steely jaws, and an infernal implosion rampages, spilling outright ferocity and brutality and amplifying them to a ridiculous degree. “Writhe” lets sounds swirl and your imagination travel, and then the track fully tears open, the shrieks raining down poison and chaos. The clobbering madness is suffocating, and then the sounds ease, unleashing steam that wilts flesh. The power corrupts all over with a barreling assault, the growls hammer, and everything feels like it’s boiling in acid, flesh falling from bone. The title track ends the proceedings, and it’s an instant assault, a blinding serving of hell that slaughters souls. Slashing and urgent, the stomping almost feels personal as the power runs amok, and even a brief respite is enough to promote healing as the senses are smashed, and aggressive fury buries faces in the dirt.

Nott is impossibly heavy, which always sound ridiculous to say on a metal site, but this band knows another level many other bands do not. “Hiraeth” has emotional undertones from its title and the intent the band puts behind it, but taking on the music feels like mental and physical tumult, a struggle to survive where the surroundings feel uninhabitable. This is a weighty experience, a record that takes its toll on you and leaves a battered, stretched human behind.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://silentpendulumrecords.com/products/nott-hiraeth

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