To struggle is human, though everyone who does have a battle to wage has different levels of adversity staring them back. It’s easy to go down a destructive path, wounding and punishing ourselves, wallowing in seas of negativity that make self-healing a tougher thing to accomplish. Hope isn’t lost, but it’s often very difficult to find, and that alone can be a mighty mountain to conquer.

German trio The Circle makes that the focus of their stunning second record “Of Awakening,” an incredible mix of heavy emotion and doom metal awash in blackness. Treading amid these five powerful songs means facing your own shadows, the ones it sometimes seem like you wear like a cape, or perhaps more fittingly, a butcher’s apron. The band—vocalist Asim Searah, guitarist Stanley Robertson, drummer Philipp Wende—are joined by guests Jaakko Nikko (of Damnation Plan, Essence of Sorrow and many others, who provides bass) and Lisa Wende (viola and violin) to flesh out this heavily emotional creation, one that bends but never breaks under the weight of psychological torment and tries in earnest to find beams of catharsis underneath a mountain of pain.

“Ruins, My Dying World” dawns as a severe rupture of the heart, gruff singing and nasty growls retching and wailing. The murk continually gets thicker and more impossible to tread, and after a full sonic immersion, the strings ache, and creaky speaking chills your bones. Suddenly, you’re chest deep in a deluge, the shrieks spatter blood, and the gloom pushes even harder, sending prog-fed guitars into the atmosphere and finally going permanently cold. “Of Awakening” features Tim Charles of Ne Obliviscaris on violin, and the track itself jolts open, quickly getting blood racing through veins. Growls lurch as the pace quickens and toughens, powerful singing also playing a major role, the harshness picking up and becoming more oppressive. The bass plods as Charles’ playing sends chills, turning cinematic and leaving a semisweet glaze behind.

“Afflux” is reflective, solemn singing helping lead the way, the emotional power becoming richer as it grows. Growls erupt as the harsher elements dig deeper, morose melodies linger, and the slow-driving misery ensures you soak in the dark waters until you’re pickled. “Reign of the Black Sun” begins with drums crushing, guitars digging into the molten rock, and a burly push sinking in alongside the hearty singing that reaches the stratosphere. Gloomy strings smear as the dreariness increases, the singing sweeps, and the drums rumble with fervor. The emotional swell builds as blasts destroy steel, growls mash psyches, and the strings increase their hold, ending things hypnotically. Closer “Ashes and Fading Tides” has a hazy opening, clean calls swimming in the air, sweeping open before melodies tidal wave, and growls begin to kill. Great clean singing surges as the doom swells, and a massive rush of power draws near. Strong leads emerge and scorch, and a glorious surge pushes everything into the heavens.

The darkness and woe on “Of Awakening” is thick and apparent, and the anguish and sadness packed into this record by the Circle takes some time to digest before its message becomes fully apparent. This is a stunning, heavy record, one that leaves a massive toll on you mentally and physically when this record comes to an end. Yes, there is beauty and delicacy woven in as well, but that’s almost as a salve to help dress wounds this record leaves that are a challenge from which to fully heal.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.aoprecords.de/gb/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.aoprecords.de/

We’re thrashing a dead horse here, but the world surrounding us is not a welcoming and healthy place, and there’s no trajectory in a few years that makes this look any better. Lies, deceit, mismanaged power, corruption, racism, sexism, hatred, xenophobia, you name it make up social conversations and public policy, and it gets more difficult to live through this every second of the day.

“From the Wound Spilled Forth Fire” is a noble effort to try to break free from this hell and find a semblance of peace and catharsis within oneself. Nixil do that with furnace-furious black metal that, unlike a large swath of artists in the subgenre, stands in defiance of fascism and isn’t afraid to attack it with poison. The band—vocalist CC, guitarist/backing vocalist Alden, guitarist Shane, bassist/backing vocalist Aurora, drummer Key—spreads the vitriol over six harrowing, corrosive tracks that aim to engulf the power structure in unforgiving, certain flames. This is a record full of rebellion anthems, and anyone who finds themselves in Nixil’s path would do well to stay away from this cauldron of chaos.

“Collapsing the Poles” opens ominously, with darkness spreading and shrieks gnawing into flesh, your ears ringing and making your balance a challenge. “The flame is within us,” CC howls with scathing intent, the guitars snarling and smoking, utter destruction spreading generously over the land. “In Thrall” crumbles sonically, and then the knives come out, punishing with utter blackness, twisting nerve endings as the growls lay waste. Searching leads add a more introspective element, but moments later they’re splattering you all over again, spinning tires over your neck as the destruction hits its highest point. Total devastation follows as a black metal assault is mounted, finally angling out into noise. “A Door Never Closed” liquifies and lets in dark secrets, the guitars slice, and the walls begin to melt, causing blood to trickle and pool. Howls echo as the feeling turns more portentous, hypnotizing melodies backing the ferocious pace, unsettling calls burning into your flesh as the final scalding moments torch wills.

The title track opens with grimacing guitars, dark rumbling, and a tempo that continually gets more dangerous. There are tempered moments, but that doesn’t last long as ugly howls slather, and spindly guitars make things feel mystical. The heat increases out of that, and then sounds warp and disappear into a fog. “Abyss Unto Abyss” erupts, taking its pound of flesh early, racing and mashing as the temperatures increase. Melodic guitars work laces with growls and strange speaking, the twisted path getting more intense as the track goes on, every element zipping and thrashing over the final minute. Closer “The Way Is the Grave” starts with a tribal-style spirit, weird vocals warbling, and then growls crushing as the humidity climbs. Shadowy and spellbinding, the growls slither through filth, psyche-heavy guitars glaze like a mind-altering syrup, and your cells are left tingling as the final shrieks crush and help usher in a retching ending.

Surviving the cesspool of a world in which we all tread takes determination, guts, and the refusal to accept that this is a normal way to live. Nixil torch any idea of existing with this system on “From the Wound Spilled Forth Fire,” and the takeaway is the will to treat the source of oppression with flames and no servings of mercy. This record stands as a defiant battle effort to prevent those who wish to exercise their harmful will on others from enjoying any power and ever living peacefully.  

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

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

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

Metal lore is rich with mythology and history, stories that have become a part of humanity, no matter where you hail, and it’ll always be there to act as fodder for musicians looking to come up with the heaviest possible concepts and sounds. It also provides listeners with a chance to dig into some of this material that previously might have been unfamiliar, helping swell one’s brain with new knowledge.

Digging into “Beyond Acheron,” the fourth record from German death metal crushers Temple of Dread, it’s clear we’re in for another album full of ideas and stories that make metallic roots that much more nutritious. Just look at the cover art by Italian artist Paolo Girardi of Charon, the ferryman who leads the dead across the River Styx to Hades, and you see a story that’s long dotted metal, but maybe you never saw it depicted it quite that way before. The band—vocalist Jens Finger, guitarist/bassist Markus Bünnemeyer, drummer/keyboard player Jörg Uken—is assisted by friend and psychologist Frank Albers who provides the gore-splashed and cinematic lyrics that make this record that much more engaging and full of folklore that will keep you engaged in the brutality from front to back.

“Charon’s Call (Intro)” has water rushing, the drums awakening, and guitars swimming, heading downstream into the title track that explodes with strong riffs and raspy howls. The melodies jolt as soloing rips in and glows, giving a mystical feel to the carnage. The growls gut as the playing gets more ferocious, landing heavy blows and pouring salt into wounds, paving the way for “World Below” that drubs from the word go. Menace is heavy as the riffs drill into bones, the playing encircles dangerously, and the synth playing thickens the ominous cloud cover. A fantastical bend takes over, making your mind tingle, and then the pace fires up again, Finger howling, “I am free, I rule the world below!” “Damnation” mixes sick drumming and wafting synth, the tempo burning slowly and dangerously, the humidity mixing with fire. The leads swarm as the playing gets more intense, melodies simmering, the keys and carnage mixing in the sky. The heaviness gets more oppressive as the growls eat away like acid, increasing the misery crashing down like nails as the track comes to a regal end. “Dance of Decay” is sinister as the growls go for your throat, the death assault becoming an earth-crushing force. The guitars unload, sweeping over rock and lava, the growls get burlier, and viciousness drags this into the earth’s core.

“All-Consuming Fire” drives and drubs, turning into a speedy and mean assault, delivering a flurry of crushing blows. Hazy leads make the atmosphere thicker and hotter, and then the tempo explodes, thrashing with ugly defiance, stomping joints, and stretching you mentally and physically. “The Plague” is chunky as hell with the guitars encircling its prey, a mucky and mangling force with which to be reckoned. “The plague will hit us all,” Finger wails as the heat makes breathing difficult, shrieks pack sinister deadliness, and the final moments powder bones and teeth. “Carnality Device” unfurls with manic terror, twisting with metallic precision and even making minds warp with alien effects. Steamy melodies wilt flesh as hypnotic surges ice your brain impulses before the guitars catch new fire, and the drumming even ups the ante further, coating lungs with soot. “Asebeia” is a blink-and-miss-it blaster, bringing corrosive growls, premium levels of speed, and a thunderous push that makes it feel like a storm you didn’t know was coming to level your town. Closer “Hades” dawns with a slow burn, the guitars channeling blood, morbid tidings making everything feel even more severe. The playing keeps building momentum, glorious guitar work feels like thick light beams pounding your eyelids, and everything crescendos, the final waves crashing monstrously to earth.

Strangeness, unspeakable horror, and death metal brutality run amok on “Beyond Acheron,” a record that is both enthralling and unforgivingly destructive. Temple of Dread continue to build their massive canon with this impressive album, one that should open any ears just coming into contact with this splattering force. This is death metal full of all the good stuff longtime fans want from the subgenre, and every visit with this thing will wreck you and demand your fealty all over again.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://testimonyrecords.de/artists/temple-of-dread/

For more on the label, go here: https://testimonyrecords.de/

Death metal has become a much smarter subgenre, not necessarily having to give way to knuckle-dragging antics or approaches that make you feel like you didn’t really need your brain while listening. Honestly, even the most ham-fisted of death metal still takes at least a modicum of talent and ability, so let’s not totally count it out. But sometimes the most ridiculous approaches are the most satisfying.

That leads us into Aussie death metal stranglers Werewolves, a band that never really spent a lot of time trying to get high marks from tastemakers and instead have gone full-bore into chaos and insanity. Their new record “My Enemies Look and Sound Like Me” continues to avoid being scholarly and instead goes sharpened-teeth-first for your throat, unleashing complete insanity and a level of terroristic fun that completely takes over your brain. The band—vocalist/bassist Sam Bean, guitarist Matt Wilcock, drummer David Haley—pours all their adrenaline, emotions, fire, and slathering venom into this fourth record in four years, and it’s not here to make you smarter. It’s here to make sure you have a good time, as it sounds like they did making it, and never fails on that end. It’s a fucking animal.

“Under The Ground” explodes with black metal fury, a snarling animal out of the gate, warping and sending fire screaming. Molten hell is launched as the attack gets more and more insane, leaving blood and bone behind. The title track is a berserker, bringing swampy guitars, contorting terror, and absolute ferocity that’s impossible to shake. Massive thrashing mounts a huge comeback, splattering as echoed howls singe nerve endings. “Bring to Me the Kill” stomps and encircles like a beast cornering its victim, savage and animalistic shouts increasing the anxiety even further. Black metal-style melodies fire as a break-neck pace is achieved, gurgly growls sounding like Beam is foaming at the mouth. “Brace for Impact” goes for the jugular, the guitars hitting the gas pedal and leaving it locked into place. Fast and violent, there are some mucky bodies of water encountered, and the guitars manage to hit a strange and complicated angle that fries your brain in your skull.

“Destroyer of Worlds” is steamy at first, and then the guitars add some chill, but not enough to avoid burning. The playing is mean and monstrous, the power fully hitting an apex as Bean wails, “I cannot make it clearer, I am not a hero,” as the track slams shut. “Neanderhell” slaughters as the growls are spat like poison, the savagery almost becoming too much to take. Deep growls curdle in your belly, and blind mangling increases your blood pressure before everything ends abruptly. “I Hate Therefore I Am” clobbers, stomps, grounds, and pounds, tricking you with violent thrashing that shakes your insides. Things gets uglier as the track goes on, the band seeking nothing but torment and pain to bring unconsciousness. “I Knew Nothing Then and I Know Less Now” erupts with growls strangling and an unforgiving pace that forces air from your lungs. Things turn uncharacteristically moody for a turn, disorienting and numbing before the punishment valve turns back on, knifing to a psychologically bloody end. “Do Not Hold Me Back” mercilessly ends things but not before the violence escalates yet again, scathing growls and electric horrors flowing freely. Racing and rampaging, the playing chugs with sinister fury, mashing bone and leaving only bile and piss behind.

“My Enemies Look and Sound Like Me” is a runaway car crash into a nuclear reactor into a shark into a volcano, and that’s probably putting it lightly. Werewolves say themselves they’re not here to deliver some cerebral vision and instead just want to piledrive you face-first into glass. This is a record that delivers just that, and when it’s over, you’ll need an extended mental break before taking another trip.

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

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

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

Have you ever sat back and actively thought about the most horrific and perverse things that could cross your mind and reflect in satisfaction over what you imagined? Me, neither. I have enough manic bullshit from everyday life and current events to keep me occupied with terrible visions that I don’t need an extra exercise in that type of thing. Also, I don’t have a productive outlet to release the trauma.

It’s safe to say the two blokes who inhabit Blight House—vocalist Frank Lloyd Blight and multi-instrumentalist Frank Owen Gorey, most likely not their birth names, but who knows?—have participated in that very thing, and from the sounds of their new record “Blight the Way,” they’re more likely to handle such insanity than someone like me. The band’s second record and follow-up to 2018’s maniacally titled “Summer Camp Sex Party Massacre,” the duo uses 10 insane tracks to plaster you with their brand of death metal and grind that’s gruesome, utterly ridiculous, sometimes hilarious, and always devastating. They aligned with Syrup Moose Records, a relatively new label that is steadfastly anti-fascist and is putting out a lot of tremendous records and bands we hope to feature here regularly from this point forward. But let’s start here.

“Dismembers Only” rips open with gruesome growls, the playing slithering and waylaying, sooty and doomy visions clouding your mind. Ugly and beastly power erupts, the muck collects, and everything comes to a fittingly ugly end. “Cryptid Cutie” mauls as the growls sicken, the playing trudging and making your footing impossible. The splattering continues as a manic pace cuts through as whispery growls send chills. “Florida Man Hails Satan” lands with retching growls and swampy, steamy guitars that make you feel gross inside. “The devil went down to Florida looking for a soul to steal,” Blight howls, slightly changing the lyrics to a relatively well-known country song, guitars go off, and guts are strewn about the place. “Too Ugly to Live, Too Dumb to Die” just trucks, howls punishing, the snarling playing twisting your brain. Glumi UwUhammer’s dream-state calls elevates strangeness, then the pace slows, but the heaviness doesn’t calm, growls crackle in mud, and everything sifts off into the clouds. “Moms Away II – Dad’s Bod” opens with a goddamn Family Feud clip, and from there everything smashes and spatters, growls curdle, and the blood flows freely.

“Bible-Belt Baby Buffet” unloads with buzzing guitars and growls slathering, the repeated cries of, “Baby buffet!” chewing into your psyche. Religious ranting samples slide behind the coiling bass and the muscular mashing, ending in complete psychosis. “Death Will Not Be Enough” mangles with deathly strikes, slowly scarring, then igniting and destroying. Growls gurgle as the guitars smear, exploding and fading into a total hellscape. “Grassquatch” is fucking ridiculous in the best way. Bugs chirp as we head into crushing force, thick bass lines, and repeated cries of, “Grassquatch!” Guitars heat up and the force bludgeons, the sooty assault making things feel grimy and creepy. “Walpurgis Date-Night” twists spinal cords, delivering humid violence and disorientation. Guitars smoke as the pace trudges, slowly fading into madness. “Acephalophilia III – Hopelessly Headless for You” closes the record by crushing with merciless devastation, the drums turning rock into dust. UwUhammer’s wail returns and sends chills down your spine, hypnotic jolts loosen screws, and everything is swallowed into a strange echo.

Blight House embody the idea that there are some things you have to hear to believe, and “Blight the Way” is a record that’s plenty brutal but also delightfully bizarre. The music on its own would be enough to merit recommendation, but the batshit insane horror elements and spastic psychosis takes it to a completely different level. This is a great time, a brutal band and album that can turn your stomach and punish you mentally and physically at the same time.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://syrupmooserecords.bandcamp.com/merch

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

I am not able to ingest caffeinated coffee, which hasn’t been the best development in my life. I mean, physically, yes, I can drink it, but the mental result won’t be fun, and there’s a good chance I’d need to immediately enjoy a Xanax in order to avoid a trip to the ER. Brains. Why do we have them? So, it takes other means to get the blood flowing, and luckily there are plenty of things that work the same way.

Take, for instance, Mutoid Man, the frenetic metallic trio that’s spent the last decade indulging in sugary and bombastic riffs and pure firepower that might not work as well as a coffee for some people but sure gives me the same boost. Just without the anxiety attack! The band is back with another powder keg of insanity with “Mutants,” their third LP overall and another that will rewire your brain with total insanity. Mutoid Man is a supergroup of sorts—vocalist/guitarist Stephen Brodsky is well known for his work with Cave In and multiple other projects; longtime drummer Ben Koller bashes away for Converge; and new bassist Jeff Matz makes up half of the rhythm section for High on Fire. Here, the band launches 10 new tracks that blaze, defy gravity, and make your muscles shake, but in a way that’ll make you feel alive.

“Call of the Void” opens with the guitars just smoking, which is hardly a surprise with Mutoid Man or anything involving Brodsky. The pace is frantic and gutting, the bass thickens and create a steel beam of a spinal cord, and the underneath gets nasty, blasting through and coming to a zany end. “Frozen Hearts” pulls back just a bit, but there’s still massive amounts of intensity. The playing turns sludgy, and then the pace gallops, driving up dust and choking you senseless. “Broken Glass Ceiling” is properly defiant, bringing filthy riffs, Brodsky toggling between his trademark clean calls and blunt barks. “I’ve got to beat this thing to be free at last,” Brodsky howls as the mashing gets more aggressive, leading everything into hell. “Siren Song” fully swaggers, feeling dirty and menacing, pumping blood through tar-caked veins. Brodsky’s yelp of, “Go!” signals the attack going even faster, the playing getting more slashing and fluid, the strength building and flexing its brawn. “Graveyard Love” is pleasingly creepy, longing for the one who puts you in the ground. The bass is sinewy, there is a mystical edge to the guitars, and Brodsky pokes, “Everyone can see she fucking buried me.” The soloing is spacey and fun, exploding as the shrieks are buried with dirt and soot.

“Unborn” explodes with molten guitars, a drilling, intense pace, and Brodsky again mixing singing and growling, giving you smooth edges with blood inside. The playing is catchy and brutal, the heat blasts through the mud, and the final surges melt the doors shut. “Siphon” begins with an insane Tom and Jerry chase-style riff, making the room spin with ludicrous energy. Shrieks menace as the leads zap, grim turns are carried on the shoulders of great melodies, and the final moments come off like a really wild car crash. “Demons” opens with the drubbing tearing open ribcages, blazing through colorful guitar work, and then the momentum zaps into a deep cavern of mud. The playing is fast and catchy, while the bass takes a grungy edge, the playing combusting as Brodsky jolts, “I’ve got my demons under control!” “Memory Hole” mauls immediately as the strong singing makes the push more palpable, the carnage pulled back a bit but not entirely. Shrieks pummel, the leads snake through blood, and the energy fully ignites, the vocals and rising smoke pushing your face in the ground. “Setting Son” ends the album with a cooling agent before the guitars scorch your full face. There’s also a bluesy edge to this thing, the smog allowed to rise, the seriousness taking over from a record that spits at monsters. “Baby we don’t have much time ‘cause I’m like a setting sun,” Brodsky repeats as the song closes, his voices going higher, the playing around him letting the storm clouds darken before slipping behind the curtain.

It’s impossible to hear a Mutoid Man record and not be overcome by total mania and energy, and “Mutants” is no exception to that thinking. This album is a total blast, an incredibly fun explosion of neon riffs, staggering power, and metallic adrenaline, something you can put on your turntable and let destroy you. This album is perfect for jarring you awake by force and filling your body and blood with maniacal spirit no human can possibly overcome.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://mutoidman.bandcamp.com/album/mutants

To struggle is human, and the attached emotions can get the most of us if we are too overwhelmed and are not armed with the tools to help manage the forces keeping us down. That’s especially the case if your struggles are mental because there is so much suffering in silence, and still too little understanding from people who think we should suck it up. If only it was that easy.

While not outright acting as a trip through mental health woes, Brazilian death metal destroyers Crypta paint a lot of pictures about those struggles on their great new record “Shades of Sorrow,” their second. You can hear the snarled words, follow along with the lyrics, and just absorb the darkness in their music to know there are harrowing topics here, plights we all face, and in order to prevent them from taking over our lives, we must find ways to cope, heal, and eventually fight. The band—vocalist/bassist Fernanda Lira, guitarists Jéssica di Falchi and Tainá Bergamaschi, drummer Luana Dametto—is a total beast live (I got to see them on Easter night as they opened for Morbid Angel, and they scorched), and that comes across on this record (as well as their awesome debut “Echoes of the Soul”). Their creativity is evident as is the fire and blood they put into their music, and if you’re someone who’s also struggling, these songs can act as battle anthems to help you rise above the disarray.

“The Aftermath” opens with piano drizzling, an intro track that increases the drama as it goes, fading with fevered breaths. “Dark Clouds” unleashes with a mix of growls and shrieks, acoustics helping cut into the chaos, and pummeling hell raining down. “The invisible enemy is creeping in, darkness steadily surrounding me,” Lira howls as the leads blaze, and the final assault buries you in mental shrapnel. “Poisonous Apathy” crushes, Lira’s cries rippling, and even the breezier melodies can’t totally cut down on the pain. The chorus gushes, then the soloing fires up, melody and savagery intertwine and ensnare you in their trap, Lira wailing, “Drifting away!” “The Outsider” feels doomy and hazy at the start, the leads acting as a muscular spine through the middle. The feel is thrashy and grimy, the basslines flex and increase the swaggering power, and everything is torched, ashes coating the ground. “Stronghold” swirls in and feels deadly immediately, crushing with a melodic glaze, eventually going cold and increasing the moodiness. Colors blaze but also trickle, and everything bursts anew, delivering both haze and chaos, everything coming to a blurry finish. “The Other Side of Anger” brings tense guitars and deep growls from Lira as she wails, “I am the sadness with nowhere to go, I am the passion denied for so long.” The force drubs, and the chorus is wrenching, leading to the guitar work blazing a new, harrowing path before heavy glaze makes your vision blurry, and the track blasts out.

“The Limbo” is an interlude with pianos warping, slowly melting and draining, mesmerizing before “Trial of Traitors” tears in, chewing out guts with sharpened teeth. The plastering force leaves brush burns on the flesh while the soloing stings, the assault renews, and growls utterly destroy, crashing out with drums turning everything to soot. “Lullaby for the Forsaken” opens with reflective hums, and then the assault catches fire, ominous tones making the atmosphere even darker, the screams sending sharp chills down your spine. “Understanding denied, the loyalty I need lies only within me,” Lira howls as soloing melts, the shrieks rain down nails and spikes, and the ferocity wells and floods your mind with destruction. “Agents of Chaos” is humidity as it dawns, and then it begins to grind pretty hard, the playing getting steamier, energetic bursts making your blood flow. “I celebrate I’m not in your skin, I avenge by pitying your misery,” Lira jabs as the guitars make the temperatures dangerously high, standing on the gas pedal as it screeches to a halt. “Lift the Blindfold” begins with a clean stream before the muscular push mangles, slashing through righteous devastation, the chorus absolutely killing. “How much I failed myself, how much I questioned myself, now I shall stand for myself,” Lira declares amid fast, melodic bloodshed, landing heavy blows and ending this campaign in molten blackness. “Lord of Ruins” is icy and chugging as it starts before the fuel is aggravated, and incredible melodic guitar work makes adrenaline spike. The playing envelopes while wild howls jab into ribs, the soloing makes a blinding surge, and a total assault creates a final burst toward outright victory. “The Closure” is a book-ending interlude, bringing foggy, strange sentiment that ends this journey through mental turbulence.

Crypta are a force to behold, both on record and live, and “Shades of Sorrow” is a great building block for this band as they continue to make passionate sounds that just rip off your face. The band is made up of inventive, incredibly sharp players, and they are just getting their foundation to solidify, which two awesome albums will help make impossible to destroy. This is an exciting record, one that tackles the darkest of tidings, the most morbid of emotions, and comes out swinging, defiant to conquer the odds and leave negative forces burnt to a crisp.

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

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

Or here (rest of the word): https://napalmrecords.com/

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

I want to talk about alien cum. Now. Well, it’s not so much that I want to do that, but I have to discuss this, as today’s record is forcing my hand. OK, so let’s say all the religious stuff we were taught and even the scientific theory was all wrong. Instead, what if an alien specie planted their seed all over the universe, essentially creating universal life, only for our overlords to lie in wait to devour us whole?

It sounds like the work of an overzealous sci-fi author (and it’s not a new concept from a literary standpoint), but it’s also the basis of “Panspermic Warlords,” the second long player from the mind-flaying Wyrgher. On this record, the band—vocalist/guitarist/bassist/synth player Menetekel, drummer Voidgaunt—plays with the theory that life throughout the universe has a single source, and that force is lying in wait for their opportune moment to take over all of creation and make it their own. As you may have guessed, this would not be a peaceful operation. Surviving seems like a pipe dream, and anyone left scurrying for safety afterward likely would be an easy target.

“Dormant They Drift” starts as a spindly, proggy attack, growls wrenching as the guitars encircle, sounds shimmering in echo. A forceful assault emerges from that, clouds rise, and everything fades into a halo of chaos. “Destroyer of the Promethean Path” is the longest track, running 9:55 and entering amid a thick mist that makes vision a chore. Growls shake as the tempo ruptures, vicious turns makes your neck jerk, and sounds rush, heading for infernal pressure. The playing melts into a haze as the strangeness thickens and then lashes out, noise zaps, and an utterly strange state is achieved. A bizarre aura attempts to swallow you whole as things suddenly bathe in light before fading. “Solar Harvest” features guest vocals by Karapan Darvish (Arkhaaik, Dakhma, Lykhaeon), and the pace smashes and sizzles, moving faster, melting, and taking on detached wails. The guitars swelter as the pressure reverberates, growls cut at the knees, and the spiraling madness infects your blood and makes you see visions.

“Summoning the Meteoric Titans” is an interlude that opens in a synth haze, icing the senses and taking on alien transmissions, blurring out and heading into “Supreme Leader of a Dying Star” that runs 9:22 and immediately heads into warmth. The pressure mounts, the roars crush, and the mystifying craziness destroys, heading into disorienting clouds and a thick pit of sludge. The guitars stretch and tingle as the punishment multiplies, riffs looping and churning, heaviness pushing on rib cages, the sense of despair and terror growing, and the fires raging and finally exhausting. “The Weeping of a Blazing Rock” blasts in with guitars stabbing, spilling plasma and ripping into psyches, the growls warping the senses. Guitars lash as the blazing gets more ferocious, then the pace turns more reflective, jabbing and disappearing into a sound cloud. Closer “Panspermic Warlords” runs 9:28 and brings wildly sprawling guitars, crushing energy, and lasers zapping into flesh. Hypnotic charges makes the room spin, rushing and rupturing, the guitars icing your cells as the keys whir. We head back into weird terrain, the melodies get more immersive, and the final drops feel like ice drops landing on top of your exposed brain.

While the events baked into “Panspermic Warlords” might seem far-fetched, are they really? Who’s to say who’s watching us, if there are inhabitants on other planets, and any alien beings’ plans for us that might be devious and hellish, horrors like we can’t even imagine? Wyrgher manage to make a captivating and exciting record about such a plot, something that could tear us apart before we even knew what hit us. Grim.  

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

To buy the album, go here: http://i-voidhanger.com/shop/

For more on the label, go here: http://i-voidhanger.com/

We live in dark times, and yes, I remind you of that in the middle of summer, one of the warmest and brightest times of the entire year. But the calendar does not dictate how we feel, and it does not just make things right because it’s nice outside. The bad tidings sink into our cells and wait for us, even when we’re feeling good, even when positivity appears at reach. It’s also a ruse.

“Haunted Funeral Creations” is the first record from Tumulation, a band that features members of Conjurer, and while that group whips ass, the level of darkness and, well, tumult that faces you here is insurmountable. The band—vocalist/guitarist IM, guitarist/bassist FS, drummer WS—puts you to the test, applying pressure and pushing ugliness that definitely will make your heart swell for that classic death/doom sound, but there are elements more intrusive here. Something that wants to bore into your brain and change it for the worse. A strange spirit that will transform your psyche for good.

“Emergent Chaos Spirals” is an introductory cut that gives you a taste of what’s ahead, that being doom clouds, guitars rising, and sounds threatening before we smash into “Shattered Under the Eclipse” that encircles with riffs dripping with evil. Pummeling and dark, the growls menace as the blood flows, sweltering melodies putting its boot on your throat. The riffs manage to get even darker, the playing flutters, the growls burn, and the pace slows into a pressure violence that makes breathing difficult. “Astral Sickness” arrives amid the drums leading a driving attack, guitars flaring up, the vocals slithering through the mud. A doomy burn presses into flesh, the drums continue to destroy, and the pounding is relentless, the surroundings corroding and torching the hairs on your arms. “Rorschach” opens with a vampiric clip, something that follows several of the other songs, and everything gets ugly and burly, the growls boiling blood, the guitars trucking. The playing is sooty and heavy, crawling through cobwebs, gutting with a vicious rampage that rips to the end.

“Sterilizing Winds” blisters, and heavy blows land without mercy, the melodies feeling both spindling and punishing. The vocals retch as bloody, muddy clobbering have heavy impact, the attack gets more menacing, and the massive storm tears through the atmosphere. “Rites of Forgotten Misery” stomps in, going for a sonic changeup, mashing and battering with precision and might. The growls make your nerve endings ripple, and then mournful leads pull a pall over everything, the steamy penetration gets more oppressive, and chaos piles up and destroys bones. “Bound to the Rakasha” soaks in doom before the playing blasts and sends shrapnel flying, the growls increase the levels of danger, and the metallic ooze melts and bleeds like a river reaching out for you. The vocals drag through slag piles, the playing hits ever harder, and the final moments char flesh, its ash trail unmistakable. Closer “Abject Maelstrom Specters” is a quick instrumental outro with slowly trickling sounds, thunderclaps reverberating, fading into a foggy storm front.

Tumulation bring doomy death heat so thick, it makes it feel like trying to breathe inside a giant loaf of bread just pulled out of the oven. “Haunted Funeral Creations” sounds as much like a summary of these eight songs as a title slapped across this morbid creation, so you can’t say you’re surprised at the end of this thing. This is a massive debut album, one that is weighty, humid, and devastating, the stepping-off point for a band that’s primed to get even uglier as time progresses.   

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

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

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

Frustration and pain can be daunting to face, significantly more difficult to conquer, and the emotions that result from these experiences can lead us to trouble. People make rash decisions, lash out, sometimes do dangerous things, and a lot of that has to do with not having an outlet to release the pressure. It’s understandable, but it doesn’t mean much if a trail of carnage results.

Taking on “Forged in Chaotic Spew,” the first full-length from Phoenix crushers Thra, feels like all of that vitriol and anger captured in nine tracks. While this is their first full serving, they’ve put out smaller releases that hinted at where they were headed, but this album is that explosion of emotions realized. This combination is sludgy power and all-out death metal sounds like the perfect outlet for this band—vocalist/guitarist Robert Wolfe, guitarist Matt Marquette, bassist/vocalist Zach Nixon-Sandberg, drummer Grey Smith. This record is the perfect way to express this negativity and release the demons welled up inside, which is all over this tumultuous collection that breathes fucking fire.

“Flame Lurker” (a version of which was on their 2020 EP) opens the record with a burly boil, vicious howls raining down, bludgeoning and making a mess of the blood that’s pooling. The playing drubs and gets muddier, bashing away with morbid force, finally scratching out into noise. “Fracture” burns, feeling molten and sludgy, landing heavy body blows that quickly bruise. Howls rip as piledriver-heavy shots land with force, sweltering and scrambling brains before fading. “Terror Vessel Part 1” is a halo of sound, ominous and haunting, a strange interlude that swims into “Drag” that dawns as a sooty, furious beast. The pressure is sudden and insurmountable, crushing as the growls punish, opening up a thrashy pace that rips into wounds, eventually dissolving in an unforgiving fire.

“Blistering Eternity” is a massive force that brings beastly howls and a deathly thrust, the guitars turning on the fog machines. Things get more dangerous and warped, the playing encircling, mud caking quivering veins. The guitars rampage and shake, and a gargantuan assault gets under way, claiming bodies and bashing brains, only leaving once everything is fully consumed. “Vesuvian” is a quick but effective interlude with guitars boiling, noise sparking and twisting, and the pressure leading to “Primordial Engorgement” that arrives fully savage and sparking death snarls. The playing is infernal, smothering as growls punish and insult, the guitars taking tornadic bends, and the animosity building, cutting into any remaining sense of serenity. “Cosmic Scourge” rings out and stings before sinking its blade, throaty wails cutting into spinal columns. The playing swirls and bashes, making you deal with unmistakable pain and nausea together, and the crushing assault decimates, Wolfe screaming, “Escape from reality,” as the final boulder drops and pocks the earth. Closer “Terror Vessel Part 2” is a final interlude stitched together with sounds echoing, weird transmissions making your brain feel heavy and taxed, everything spiraling into the cosmos.

“Forged in Chaotic Spew” feels different from the start, ominous and mean, seeking some sort of retribution for all of the darkness that has landed in the past. Thra always had a firm grasp of death metal, but this time around, they take it even more seriously, spilling vitriol and pain into their music like they never have before. This feels like a self-exorcism, a chance to bleed all the hatred and pain from their bodies once and for all, everyone who made those wounds possible be damned.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://translationloss.com/products/forged-in-chaotic-spew-lp

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