Generally, I’m a proponent of as well as fan of bands that deliver records where they get in, do their damage, and get out, leaving me wanting more. But that doesn’t always apply, and it’s definitely not something that should be applied across the board. Take doom, for example. It’s best served in longer, more demanding sessions, a trek that makes you feel every bump and pull of the journey.

We’ve long been a fan of German crushers Eremit, whose body of work began in 2018 and has stretched over two challenging, rewarding full-length albums, a stunning EP, and a few other releases. But their third long player “Wearer of Numerous Forms” is a beast of a different name, clocking in at a massive two hours, 13 minutes, and every one of those ticks is worth your time. The band—vocalist/guitarist Moritz Fabian, guitarist Pascal “Kalle” Sommer, drummer Marco Baecker, and brand-new trumpet player Hendrik “Brede” Bredemann—finishes off their trilogy that began on “Carrier of Weight” about a hermit lost in an endless ocean with this massive adventure that, believe it or not, will leave you yearning for more. This album does not feel as lengthy as it is, and it is a crowning achievement for this band that should be a household name for all doom fans if there is any justice in the world.

“Conflicting Aspects of Reality” is the colossal 63:47 opener, and most bands would have cut it with just that song. Not Eremit, and for good reason. The band starts battering right away, not worrying about pacing themselves just yet and coming at you with barbaric strength. The guitars spiral and sting as much as they sludge in spots, and the harrowing cries scrape wounds. The doom trumpets fire as blackness spreads and wretches, crushing and developing a disorienting haze that eventually meets up with a long instrumental section that plays with quieter tones, often not rising much above notes that drop like a ball of lava into water. The playing blasts back in and then takes on a meaty drone, bruising and glowing, cutting through a thick fog. The ground shakes as the growls envelope, bringing misery and fury, the growls hammering away at psyches, the fuzz  building to a dangerous level. Howls crunch, weird shrieks strike, and doom power crushes in the dark, disappearing into a vicious storm cloud.

“Entombed in a Prism of Blindness” is the “mini” track of the bunch, clocking in at 21:27 and opening the lid to hell. The playing mauls and spits brutality, smearing and corroding, the growls aiming to bury your face in the cinders. The slowly dripping torture then collides with smashing hulking, shrieks tearing minds apart, the power utterly melting. Howls rip and the playing drubs, bleeding into closer “Passages of Poor Light” that runs 47:17. The track emerges in a calculated fashion, letting the heat accumulate as the devastation gets urgent, the growls digging into your chest. A heavy, colorful fog stretches over everything, the destruction suffocating all forces pouring from the mouth. The playing feels like it’s floating in darkness before the explosions happen, the growls making flesh crawl, sounds quivering with crushing weight. Sorrow grows and makes your chest well with emotion, leads re-emerge and melt faces, and suddenly it feels like you’re surrounded. The playing buzzes and trudges, and then things speed up violently, spitting fire and gutting opposing forces, acting as a battering ram. Bodies come apart, noise levels get uncomfortably piercing, and the final embers glimmer before disappearing for good.

Eremit created their crowning achievement with “Wearer of Numerous Forms,” an absolute beast of a record. Over more than two hours, this band unfurls a document that will be a sub-genre calling card well into the future, one of those records you just have to experience to believe it. For as much content as this album holds, there is not fat to be trimmed and only a complete feast of doom that will keep you nourished and satisfied for an incredibly long time.   

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

To buy the album, go here: https://fuckingkillrecords.bandcamp.com/album/eremit-wearer-of-numerous-forms

Or here: https://allswordsburn.bandcamp.com/album/wearer-of-numerous-forms

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

It’s late spring here in the U.S., and with summer on our doorstep (it was 90 degrees here last week), it also brings with it the possibility of gusty and dangerous storms. But there are more cataclysmic events that are not the result of nature, and that’s the storming that goes on in our minds, something that can be so forceful, it can make taking on a new day a monumental challenge.

Danish doom veterans Saturnus finally have returned with their incredible new record “The Storm Within,” a collection that is awash in crashing waves, an angry sea, and violent precipitation soaking the ground. But they match that to our experiences of anger, loss, pain, and other dark elements, and being immersed in that can feel like battling waves we have no prayer to conquer. The band—vocalist Thomas A.G. Jensen, guitarists Indee Rehal-Sagoo and Julio Fernandez, bassist Brian Hansen, drummer Henrik O. Glass, keyboardist/pianist Mika Ditlev Gyldenøhr Filborne—envelope you with melodic, melancholic doom metal that leaves the heart and mind soaked and shivering from the cold. It’s a masterful collection that makes the 11 years we faced without a new Saturnus record feel like a drop in the bucket over the mental and physical force you feel in the music. It’s an incredible record you cannot shake, even long after the music has come to an end.

The title track opens in thunder and rain, feeling properly seasonal, which is fitting, and the playing gently dawns. It’s not long before Jensen’s wrenching growls become a factor as the murkiness develops, speaking passages taking place of the grisliness in spots. Melodies soar as the guitars drip, the temperatures later melting, feeling gothy as growls lay waste, and the essence returns to the clouds. “Chasing Ghosts” is the second-longest track (12 seconds shorter than the opener) and begins amid echoing guitars and cold speaking, everything feeling reflective and dour. Growls wrench as the doomy waters thicken, corrosion eats into the heart, and the thorniness is calculated but direct, slipping into calmer air. The playing opens anew and bubbles viciously, the leads coming in thicker layers, sadness bleeding through fabric smearing into dirt. “The Calling” explodes at a faster pace, great leads glowing, a melodic chorus adding even more color. The cloudiness thickens as the growls begin to gut, the playing mauls, and the leads gust, injecting energy and glory to end this awesome track with power.

“Even Tide” features Paul Kuhr of Novembers Doom adding guest vocals, and this track enters with keys dropping, speaking cutting into your heart, haunting darkness spreading and infecting. “I wonder why this long I survived,” is howled as strings layer, adding to the misery. “Every time I try to go, the waves bring me home,” Jensen calls as the vocals pull back and forth from both singers, the pain finally bowing out. “Closing the Circle” runs 9:20 and mixes into the fog, the leads engulfing, the growls eating into flesh and organs. Solemn guitars slip in as the pain engulfs, the fire scorching, the leads swallowing everything whole as blood rushes to the skull. The growls rush back as the pain blisters, adding to the pain by running your face into the flames. “Breathe New Life” has guitars hovering overhead and the growls applying pressure, laying in punches as the keys glaze and confound. Guitars burst as the barometric energy moves into storm phase, the pace pummels, and the heaviness takes a few more strips of flesh before fading. Closer “Truth” begins with chilling keys, speaking sending jolts down the spine, and everything fully opening about three minutes into the cut. The playing lurches and drags you into shadows, crushing while the guitars harness energy, letting the pain increase. Dark speaking and menacing growls eat into the psyche while fluid playing cause waves to rise, spilling into rustic acoustics that let cool breezes soothe your skin after another battle with your own mind.

The harsh sea, the winds whipping, your own wounds festering are easy to confront when taking on “The Storm Within” as all of those elements are served in large, menacing doses. An 11 -year absence did nothing to eat away at Saturnus’ power, and their stranglehold on melancholic doom is at its apex on this incredible collection. The pain is still served in generous portions, and this band’s ability to make music that has optimal emotional impact remains dangerously intact.  

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://us.spkr.media/

Or here (Europe): https://en.spkr.media/

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

Not everything from the pandemic was a negative, which feels weird to say considering the lives that were lost, which was the worst effect of the global disease. But people used that time for productive means as well as not being able to go places and being locked in your own domain can force the creative juices because what else were you going to do?

Aussie doom pounders Witchskull made good use of that time by tightening the gears of their own machine and working on their awesome new record “The Serpent Tide,” their fourth. This eight-track album is fiery from the start, unloading traditional doom, stoner tendencies, and some truly gritty terrain that makes your mind and body feel like it had a workout. The band—guitarist/vocalist Marcus De Pasquale, bassist Tony McMahon, drummer Joel Green—stitched dark storytelling and strange vibes into the music that sounds perfectly situated in 2023 but also acts as sort of a tour through doom’s history, adding tastes and flavors that pay homage and work to make the sub-genre a more devastating place.

“Tyrian Dawn” kicks off in the mud, bludgeoning and mashing, the singing adding an extra level of dirt. Guitars chug and char and add a meaty energy while the playing digs deep and exposes vulnerable flesh. “Obsidian Eyes” starts with the drums pacing before a molten swagger takes hold, the singing letting everything around it take over. The bass encircles and coils to strike as the riffs maul, the howls add insult to injury, and everything comes to a forceful end. “Sun Carver” is mystical and trancey when it enters, digging in with a breezier approach and the singing soaring. Doomy blasts then begin to truck and leave grease marks as the soloing scorches, charring flesh before the track ends in a blur. “Bornless Hollow” starts with drums lacing, molten heaviness covering everything in its path. Fuzzy bass rears its head, the singing bruises, and the guitars scuff, making for a bluesy, catchy final serving of power.

“The Serving Ritual” starts with the bass trampling and the playing rampaging, the singing spat out as the faster pace makes everything feel more urgent. Psychedelic heat warps your senses as electric power drags skulls, catching fire and filling lungs with soot. The title track heats up right away, the singing stretching as the grit accumulates dangerously. The vocals liquify as the psyche elements increase, pounding flesh and letting the humidity make things sticky and uninhabitable. “Misery’s Horse” gallops into the scene and instantly starts crushing skulls, the start/stop playing making your stomach juices slosh around. The guitars soar and sizzle as the playing thrashes even harder, melting bones and burying everything in a pile of discarded limbs. “Rune of Thorn” closes things with strong riffs, the singing wrenching, and a smearing pace making breathing nearly impossible. The bass tramples as the pace continues the beating, the band pushes its playing to the limits, and everything rides off into the darkness.

“The Serpent Tide” is a fiery, lava-spewing record from these Aussies, something you can put on and let wash over you, the power taking you to the limit. Witchskull made the best of the downtime from the past few years when we were all locked down to make themselves a fitter, punchier machine that cranks out energetic jolts that fry brains and inhibitions. This is a great, fun record that gets in, does its damage, and exits, leaving everything blistered in its wake.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://riseaboverecords.com/product/the-serpent-tide/

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

It’s very easy to get caught up in our problems and tap out because it’s easier to give up than do the work. That sounds backward, but it’s true, and people who can pick themselves up off the mat, wipe the blood and spit from their mouth, and start over again are to be admired, their demons and issues be damned. Healing is real, and we should honor those who climb that mountain.

It would not be shocking if Royal Thunder no longer existed as an entity today. Based on the bio materials that accompany their incredible comeback record “Rebuilding the Mountain,” the band’s members—vocalist, bassist Mlny Parsonz,guitarist Josh Weaver, drummer Evan Diprima—fell victim to what has claimed so many others in their place, that being substance abuse issues. That’s a monster that has no mercy, that only finds ways to keep you captive, and it almost did that to these gifted musicians. Luckily for them, and us as listeners and fans, all three got clean, and much of what they faced is documented on this 10-track album. It’s no surprise then that the songs are brimming with life, the band sounding as channeled and passionate as ever, each track holding a gift or surprise that makes blood rush. It’s a triumphant statement for a band that could have given up, given in, and become another statistic. They didn’t let that happen, and all hails to them for their determination and strength, even if this record never happened. They exist, they thrive, and that’s what matters most. But we do have new music, and it’s a barnburner!

“Drag Me” begins the record on a mid-tempo note, though don’t mistake that for lacking power. That would be a huge mistake. “I sit high above the ether, will you ever forgive me?” Parsonz calls, the pain evident, as the guitars heat up and burn darkly, the power settling with organs vibrating, everything draining into a psychedelic dream. “The Knife” has a tempered start before really kicking in, Parsonz’s singing sounding as powerful as they ever have. “This blood bath is filling, and I promise myself I will do better, and I think it’s time,” Parsonz calls as guitars layer, and the impact is made and sinks in deeply.  “Now Here-Nowhere” is gritty and challenging, forceful vocals leaving bruising, the guitars glazing and welling in echo. The emotions are thick and powerful, everything spinning out into a vortex. “Twice” is both active and moody, Parsonz’s singing digging into your chest, the pace mostly lacerating but also breezy in spots. “I’ve been waiting a long time to help you win this fight, and I know that you will,” Parsonz wails with defiance, the playing basking in deep sunburn. “Pull” takes a different pace and slowly builds, the vocals wrenching. “It’s not impossible, I’m in control,” Parsonz wails, the final minutes hitting a murmur, the curtain dropping on this short, but effective cut.

“Live to Live” slowly emerges, and it’s moodier, letting the temperature rise along the way. Parsonz’s voice booms with power, sorrowful guitars add painful layers, and the volume begins to bubble dangerously before pulling back and letting your sore heart finally get some rest. “My Ten” quivers as the bass drives, and the playing is faster and more direct, leaving you gasping in the dust. “Open your eyes, are you feeling alright? You were calling from the other side,” Parsonz wails as the guitars aggravate fires, swirling out in a hypnotic echo. “Fade” has more of a ’90s rock feel, helping this sit apart from the pack. The guitars char as speedy energy ignites in chests, the nostalgic vibe eating into your brain as Parsonz calls, “I’ll keep the score from yesterday, this ain’t no dream, I’m wide awake,” as the track blasts out. “The King” is both moody and jolting, electricity racing through your veins with Parsonz adding to that by just opening her mouth. The guitars slink as the rhythmic elements pound away, everything flexing and tearing new wounds, the heartiness nourishing every one of your mental woes. Closer “Dead Star” is dark and absorbing, Parsonz wailing, “I run and try to keep your far away from my heart, a brilliant gem reflecting the fire’s flame.” The playing pushes and pulls the tempo, reclaiming the heat, adding punchier force, and everything is swallowed into the heart of the universe.

Royal Thunder sound like a band rejuvenated on “Rebuilding the Mountain,” a title that obviously wasn’t chosen at random. The pain and personal struggles that could have consumed the band’s members instead have turned their mission around and back on the right track. It’s great to hear these three artists so channeled and passionate, and this should be a building block to an even brighter future.

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

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://spinefarm.merchnow.com/collections/royal-thunder?fbclid=IwAR13F1c8ERlFdHr_y67C8R9tofBvNECArDf27pVV579UWIxLj-R8u1YIUGM

Or here (Europe): https://spinefarm.tmstor.es/?lf=c952d71320872fa0b05bae9adb9a479e&fbclid=IwAR13F1c8ERlFdHr_y67C8R9tofBvNECArDf27pVV579UWIxLj-R8u1YIUGM

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

True crime is a burgeoning industry as you can find tons of podcasts about the subject, and there are entire television channels that do nothing but run shows on the worst people imaginable. Heavy metal also has feasted upon this matter, be it fictional or real characters, and the bloodshed is something that’s basically baked into the genre’s DNA.

Perhaps no better example comes with Japanese doom power Church of Misery, a project long helmed by bassist/lyricist Tatsu Mikami that has returned with “Born Under a Mad Sign,” their first new album in seven years (“And Then There Were None…” landed in 2016, seemingly a bygone era). These seven tracks that spread over 50 minutes are brimming with attitude and chaos, digging deep into the psyches of the most heinous creatures ever to walk the earth. This time, Mikami teams up with vocalist Kazuhiro Asaeda, drummer Toshiaki Umemura, and session guitarist Yukito Okazaki to create these firebreathers that take what Sabbath started decades ago and burns into a disfigured yet still recognizable stump that is then soaked in blood and bile. It’s filthy and devastating, something that leaves marks behind.

“Beltway Sniper (John Allen Muhammad)” starts with chilling news coverage of the shootings before the song trudges open with attitude, grisly singing and sweltering heat making formidable partners. The playing swims in bluesy edginess and sludge, letting the heat spread like the fear over these killers, the leads melting and increasing the tension before bleeding out. “Most Evil (Fritz Harmann)” zeroes in on the German serial killer, and his face adorns the cover of the album. The swampy feel makes breathing tougher, and the singing punishes, pushing you face first into the muck and peeling back flesh. Bells chime as the playing gets more muscular, the drums mangle flesh, and the wah-infused soloing wilts flesh, burying you in madness that won’t let you free. “Freeway Madness Boogie (Randy Kraft)” is based on the U.S. killer who is alive to this day, and it tears open with blistering power, smoking and devastating as the singing punishes. Later, things get bluesy and chunky, the soloing takes off, the playing shuffles and takes you under, the title howled repeatedly as the final nails are pounded with force.

“Murder Castle Blues (H.H. Holmes)” focuses on the man who was the focus of books The Devil in the White City (also a film) and American Gothic, and here the bass slinks, the vocals scrape, and the heat intensifies and becomes unmanageable. Bluesy fuzz makes the thickness more impenetrable, start/stop mauling feels like a real-life bludgeoning, and the violence escalates, bringing speedy danger to an ending that practically takes off your head. “Spoiler” doesn’t have a subject matter attached, but it’s no less smashing as anything else on this record. The Sabbath worship is heavy and evident, psyche storming makes the assault even uglier, and the keys glazing plays tricks with your mind and helps you disassociate. Smoke rises as the playing thickens, the playing swelters, and the final moments are hammers to the spine. “Come and Get Me Sucker (David Koresh)” is about the Branch Davidian leader who died in flames with his followers in 1993. You hear his voice at the outset of the song, and then we’re into spiraling, smearing playing and raspy singing, just gutting you mentally. The guitars melt and add smoking leads as the energy pelts, drubbing with power as the final blows leave you in the dirt. Closer “Butcher Baker (Robert Hansen)” focuses on a man who traded in selling baked goods to commit heinous crimes against women in Alaska. Luckily this piece of shit is dead. The playing slinks and destroys, the wah pedal leaves burn marks, and muddy attitude bleeds through the crevices. In fact, the singing sometimes has a Lemmy edge to them, sound clips blistering, the soloing making the temperatures rocket dangerously. The bruising continues as riffs overpower, the vocals boil, and everything ends in a doom blaze that bleeds ashes.

It’s always strange to praise music that is about some of the worst human beings who ever walked the earth, but Church of Misery have devoted their music to these figures since their first EP, exposing their evils to the world. Their mission has remained steady, and “Born Under a Mad Sign” runs roughshod, punishing with psyche-blazed doom metal, strangling with the power of their riffs. This is more devastation from one of the gnarliest bands, no matter the subgenre, and they’re never lacking for inspiration or fury on this smothering record.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://riseaboverecords.com/product/born-under-a-mad-sign/

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

Over humanity’s run as a dominant force here on Earth, we’ve continually found new and disgusting ways to destroy each other, especially when it comes to capital punishment. Or just our interrogation tactics. There are plenty of them we can look back on that no longer are in use (um, at least not right now), and it’s wild some of the ways we dealt agony and punishment to fellow humans.

Portland death metal destroyers Torture Rack take their name from a particularly heinous device used centuries ago (again, not totally counting out some asshole will revive this thing), and their music has a violent force that stretches and bludgeons until the point of submission. On the band’s gnarly third record “Primeval Onslaught,” their first in five years, they use 10 smothering, unforgiving tracks to leave welts and bruising to go along with the psychological torment. This menacing force—bassist/vocalist JG, guitarists Pierce and Tony, drummer Seth—that also weaves chaos in bands including Witch Vomit, Cemetery Lust, and Dagger Lust, turn up the heat and pushes your physical boundaries to the limit, leaving only screaming and begging as a means to cut off the pain.

“Ceremonial Flesh Feast” just opens bowels right away, no fucking around, as growls crush and guitars trudge, hacking off slabs of meat. Leads go off and scorch, sinking into bone, and then the final gusts rip into “Decrepit Funeral Home,” one of my favorite song titles of the year. The track bludgeons and smashes skulls, the pace engulfing with flames, blinding and stomping. Echoes tingle as the deadly force rampages, blasting out into a hellish furnace. “Forced From the Pit” savages with splattering playing and growls spat with violence, the speed igniting and ramming full force into a brick wall. Drums destroy as the pace thrashes, guitars going for the throat, the force melting faces. “Morning Star Massacre” is 50 seconds of maniacal energy, crunching and bruising, wasting everything in front of it with nuclear force. “Victims of Inquisitors” opens with drums boiling and mashing playing bruising your insides, the guitar work absolutely going off. The force blows back heat, twisting flesh and crushing wills.

“Bone Snare” punches in and just mauls, the growls lacing, and the forces act like a battering ram. The playing is thick and crushing, a muscular force that defaces with malice. “Fucked By Death” runs a slim, trim 1:16, and it wastes no time, drums speeding along, the bass thickening and trampling, and the guitar work scorching as it goes off the rails. “Impalement Storm” dawns with vocals vomited out, the playing going a mile a second, the guitars carving tributaries into bodies. The path is vicious and scraping, the sludging picks up steam and mass, and the slash and burn continues until it succumbs to its own smoke cloud. “Descent Into Infernal Chasms” mangles as the growls waste you, and the drums destroys lives. The mashing decimates sense as the vicious dust-up buries energy in the dirt. Closer “Rotting Insignificance” immediately crushes and strangles brain impulses, delivering massive pressure that continues to build its presence. Wounds are continually opened and left to fester as the clubbing force keeps swinging haymakers, leaving eyes blackened and swollen.

“Primeval Onslaught” is death metal at its most primitive, raw form, which Torture Rack continue to do at a violent clip that’s almost threatening. This is grim but also fun, a blast to hear as these heathens do their best to make this experience as uncomfortable and rotting as it is pleasingly devastating. This is music with nothing but the worst in mind, not afraid to assault you and drag you into the woods, begging for your miserable life.   

For more on the band, go here: https://torturerack.bandcamp.com/album/barbaric-persecution

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

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

Everyone has a path to travel in life, and often times we veer to other tributaries because the mission we’re on changes, or our inhibitions do. Along the way, we face struggles, and the way we react to those things depends on a lot of different factors, not all of them being things we can control. In turn, our actions and behaviors not only lean into our own lives but into that of friends, families, even strangers.

French black metal force Aodon use their new record “Portraits” (their third) to help tell some of these stories, each track named after a fictional or real character and the factors they face. The band—vocalist/guitarist/drummer M-Kha, guitarist Laurent C., bassist Alix R.—unleashes their brand of atmospheric power and chaos over these nine tracks, visiting subject matters such as misery, addiction, violence, belief systems, abuse, and many other forces that transform what these characters become. These tracks burst with life, fiery ambition, and emotional caterwaul, doing their best to help you live alongside these people and where their decisions take them along the way.  

“Swen” unloads with a melodic surge, shrieks raining down as the fog thickens dangerously. Energy gushes as the intensity continues to multiply, moving in and out of clouded obscurity before unleashing an infectious assault before melting into chaos. “Egon” is frosty and spiraling, delivering fast riffs and assaulting the senses, making blood and adrenaline spike. Vicious howls echo as guitars spill and create a mystical sensation, bowing to the fire before a blistering finish. “Mayerson” starts with the drums gutting, creating confusion and numbness as the splattering moves into a frost front. The playing sprawls as the fires spread, energy gushes with volcanic force, and final explosive jolts tie a morbid bow on everything. “Adam” crushes right off the bat as the guitars wrench, the playing dive bombing mercilessly. The pace is savage but catchy, decimating chaos spreading its wings, a frosty finish leaving all functioning warm cells frozen.

“Miquella” dawns with force as the drums blister, thunderous playing making bones quake. The playing sprawls as the guitars drip, thrashing menace making muscles ache, shrieks hammering with precision  before the track flows to a gutting end. “Andreas” feels more welcoming until guitars explode, and a stirring, tornadic pace scrambles your senses. A melodic flood generates excitement and chaos at the same time, melting into clean playing that flows over you, and then everything combusts, with the track ending in total destruction. “Liza” rips open, the vicious screams making their presence felt, the smashing sentiment raining down. Fog spreads and obscures vision as raw howls dig into flesh, the playing scorching and leaving flesh red and swollen. “Inaki” brings a guitar rush and flushing melodies, setting up an atmospheric haul that then twists the knife. Air and power are abundant as the playing builds and cascades, bleeding out into closer “Sheelagh” that starts off with a breezier approach. Gazey layering turns into menace as guttural howls devastate, battering power loosens the screws, and a blasting push makes footing unstable, landing gut punches before fading away.

While “Portraits” may be a character play involving real or imagined characters, Aodon find ways to lace their realities into each of our own. There’s not one of us who have not been impacted or influenced by these actions or emotions, and being able to identify with that gives this record even more weight. That’s not even addressing the power of the music contained here, which is some of Aodon’s finest, an album that explodes inside your chest and mind and rearranges where everything once stood.

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

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

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

Leftovers kind of get a bad rap. Unless everything was left out for as long time and bacteria has grown rampant, they’re perfectly fine. When I was a kid, my mom would make sandwiches out of roast beef from days previously, and it was so fucking good. I don’t eat beef these days, but I still have a soft spot for that meal and often dream about it.

Doom bruisers Altar of Oblivion’s new EP “Burning Memories” falls in that same line as these tracks were recorded in 2016 after completing work on their third record, which was 2019’s “The Seven Spirits.” Even though these tracks have been in the fridge for a while, they soak in their flavors and juices, sounding as fresh today as when were created. The band—vocalist Mik Mentor, guitarist/guitar-synth player Martin Meyer Sparvath, guitarist Jeppe Campradt, bassist C. Nørgaard, drummer Danny Woe, keyboardist Jannick Nielsen—has been in EP mode the last few years, this being their third one since “Spirits” arrived, and it’s a rousing collection that basks in their classic, glorious vein.

The title track begins with typically strong riffs and dark trudging, the singing spreading total darkness. “Burning memories are haunting me forever,” Mentor calls as the soloing lights up and blinds your eyes, leading to a devastating finish that chars with power. “Through the Night” runs 7:04 and delivers morbid guitar work and ominous tones, Mentor’s muscular vocals eating into your psyche. Harmonized singing rushes as the leads glimmer and chug, later coming to a tempered pace, the singing plodding. The moodiness thickens as heavy emotions flow from every pore, the madness finally washing away. “Cosmic Chaos” is a quick interlude track with synth lasering, working through thick ice, melting into rock. “Manic Masquerade” brings wild howls and a speedier pace, plowing through everything with a vicious surge. Mentor’s singing is just top notch here, which it is throughout the EP to be fair, as he commands, “Take me to the other side.” Guitars jolt as burning energy brings uncompromised visions, the guitar work bleeding generously, the atmosphere growing misty before fading into mystery. Closer “Radiation” is an instrumental with dripping guitar echo, sounds wooshing, and disorienting melodies sinking into your bloodstream and making you drop quivering.

Leftovers or not, “Burning Memories” is a satisfying collection that finally is seeing the light of day after sitting on the shelf for several years. Traditional doom like this doesn’t always come in such high quality, but this is Altar of Oblivion we’re talking about, and their track record cannot be questioned. This is more than a nice tide over until the next record; it’s a pathway into the past and a highway to the future, with this EP as bridge to connecting generations.

For more on the band, go here: http://altarofoblivion.dk/

To buy the album, go here: https://targetshop.dk/vare/altar-of-oblivion-burning-memories-mlp

For more on the label, go here: https://fromthevaults.dk/

I don’t profess to be an expert of any kind when it comes to marijuana consumption, and I’m about as late to the party as you can get. Growing up in the 1980s, you were conditioned to live in paralyzed fear of pot and any other drug, and that’s not easy to get out of your system. Legalization in Pennsylvania helped, as did my need to treat my anxiety, so I started my journey a few years ago, and here we are.

That said, I’m still just a cart and pen user, and though the fine folks at my local dispensaries have explained dabbing to me, we’re just not there yet. You know who is? Long-running weed and doom warriors Bongzilla who have returned with their deliriously awesome new record “Dab City.” If you’re already familiar with the Madison, Wisc., natives—vocalist/bassist Mike “Muleboy” Makela, guitarist Jeff “Spanky” Schultz, drummer Mike “Magma” Henry—you know you’re in for scuzzy, filthy doom that leaves you feeling gritty inside when it’s done. If you’re new to things, get ready for a trip that’s a blast to experience and will leave you bruised and dizzy when it’s over. Smoke up, kids.

The title track begins with Makela announcing, “Welcome to Dab City,” and then the riffs begin to snarl, the inhumane shrieks sounding like a beast you imagined when under the influence. Bluesy leads trample a mangling path, the playing bashing away, your ears left ringing dangerously. A long instrumental section keeps the psychosis rolling, the playing then flattening with force, looping back and burning out. “King of Weed” brings smoking riffs and a tempo snaking slowly, the growls charring in the sun. Bluesy hell is unleashed as the thorny growls strangle flesh, the guitars glimmer, and swaggering crunch leaves bones devastated. “Cannonbong (The ballad of Burnt Reynolds as lamented by Dixie Dave Collins)” runs 13:40, the Weedeater/Buzzoven frontman gruffly telling the tale as the playing slurs in the heat. The heaviness amplifies as the playing is calculated and punishing, percussive rumbling loosening rock, and a drone blanket is dragged over everything. Noise elevates and stretches, Collins’ storytelling returns, and the massive force weighs in and chokes you out.

“C.A.R.T.S.” opens with glowing guitars and marring shrieks, the playing brimming with attitude. The vocals cut through as the guitars quiver, electricity jolts the system, and everything charges back up before a plastering finish. “Hippie Stick” feels heavily Sabbath influenced, the growls mauling everything in its wake, the pressure eating into bone. The pace lurches and wrenches, molten heat wafting off, and the blistering makes the altered senses you’re experiencing worth the effort. “Diamonds and Flower” comes in on slinking riffs and acidic growls, sooty guitars caking on the filth. As the track goes on, the riffs get meatier and even burlier, everything doubling over with menace and power, the churning gnawing repeatedly before sinking into the dirt. Closer “American Pot” combines scratchy melodies and muscular guitars, bringing the heat to a boil before the humidity draws back and chills the flesh. Dusk warmth colors the horizon as speed increases, driving maddeningly before the growls finally dive at about the 9-minute mark, bringing an extra vicious jolt before everything ends in smoke.

“Dab City” not only is an homage to the finest of weed (and one of its most effective methods of ingestion) but also their rich surroundings, which Bongzilla mightily highlight on this album. Despite the subject matter, this is gnarly shit that likely goes down better with a sativa and a mission, which will make the experience all the more intense. This is a fun, smoking record from one of the finer representatives of stoner doom in the game.

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

To buy the album, go here: https://www.heavypsychsounds.com/shop.htm#HPS274

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

Total psychological devastation when listening to music isn’t everyone’s thing, and that’s totally understandable because being taken apart each brain impulse at a time can be painful. It also can be an incredibly stimulating experience if you’re open to taking a trip with something that isn’t easily digested or understood and exists in musical chaos that presents multiple challenges.

Canadian monsters Thantifaxath never seemed interested in creating art that goes down easy, and their new opus “Hive Mind Narcosis” is sure to leave people perplexed and lost. Which is fine, because not all music should strive to comfort or amass a larger audience. Bands such as Thantifaxath have a particular mission to get whatever black chaos reigns in their minds and hearts, and if that connects with a niche of listeners, great. If not, probably the same feeling. We have not heard from the band—the lineup is shrouded in mystery, and they performed fully cloaked—in nine years, and that was their eye-opening debut “Sacred White Noise,” and things have only gotten more bizarre since then. Black metal is the base, but there are psychedelic elements, noise, doom, and death, making this a fully realized piece sonically and one that thematically that plays with the conflict of being completely repulsed by something but also accepting its existence. It’s kind of how I feel about salt and vinegar chips.  

“Solar Witch” instantly fries brains, howls boiling, psychedelic madness bubbling over the surface. “The solar witch rises!” is howled as the strange aura mangles and increases body temperatures, and the weirdness increases as the warping playing gains speed, the scraping leaving dizziness behind. “Surgical Utopian Love” is the longest track at 10:58, the track smashing its way in as the raw howls torment, leaving the room spinning dangerously. The track takes on a horror soundscape essence as the bizarre transmission continues to ooze oil, powering through smashing jolts and a storm twisting back into full force. Manic energies spike as adrenaline and cortisol pump, eventually liquefying and giving way to a synth scape that swallows everything with one gulp. “The Lost Wisdom of Wolves” brings drilling guitars and beastly howls, the cosmic void opening its jaw for digestion. Some calmer air mixes into the insanity, guitars and growls penetrate, and a strange aura develops and brings on the nausea.

“Burning Kingdom of Now” burns with prog fuel, guitars melting and the unhinged screams mangling as the heat increases. The playing thrashes but also slurs drunkenly through the chaos, feeling sinister and strange, a rambling being with no idea of its own strength taking down walls. “Hungry Ghosts” ignites with steely riffs and speak-like cries, the playing intensifying the psychological punishment being dealt in spades. Fiery growls scorch with violent intent, energy cascades, and guitars collide and send bolts of electricity into the universe. “Blissful Self Disassembly” arrives in an angelic glaze, like your blurry eyes trying to make sense of the early morning. Noises pulse as the playing unloads, the drums turning bones to powder, alien visions burning through reality and soaring toward closer “Mind of the Sun” that slips into an instant flurry. Growls maim as tornadic fury arrives, melting into psychedelic hues and damage. Your mind can’t help but race as relentless pressure amplifies, bringing panic-inducing devastation that leads into a fog and brings a vicious end.

The mystery that surrounds Thantifaxath as a whole and “Hive Mind Narcosis” is what makes this so interesting and alluring right off the bat, black metal that feels like it arrives from elsewhere and is opening portals in your brain. There’s a mental push and pull going on here, and it’s deliberate, leaving the listener the responsibility of putting together the pieces and figuring out what they mean. It’s not an easy assignment, but it’s a mountain you’ll climb in the dark against your will, trying to find a glimmer of light in a smother blackness that makes you nerve endings surge at every turn.

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

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

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