I would imagine having a large body of work that has some solid definition over a long period time can both be easy to continue and also hard to navigate. There are bands that never change their formula and have long, illustrious careers. There are probably as many that can’t sit still in one territory and always have to shift and change to stay happy.

Texas-based power Krigsgrav kind of fall in the middle of those two distinctions. Over seven records, they’ve kept black metal as a base but also have branched beyond that enough to keep everything fresh and vital. They never deliver a curveball that’s so outside the zone that it’s uncomfortable to manage. On their eighth album “Stormcaller,” they made a concerted effort to bring in elements from every era and record the band—vocalist/guitarist Justin Coleman, guitarist Cody Daniels, bassist Wes Radvansky, drummer/clean vocalist David Sikora—has unleashed, and over eight tracks and 52 minutes, they continue to smear their ethos in blood. The music is relentless and volcanic, but there are doomy pockets, stormy melodies, and harrowing cliffs that keep you fully engaged, even on subsequent listens. There’s always something compelling around the corner.

“Huntress of the Fire Moon” opens in a melodic gush, the playing hammering away as shrieks ravage, twin leads feeling like a guiding light in a downpour. The atmosphere gets cloudier before riffs again are twisting brains, fiery chaos rains down, and howls stab into a glorious end. The title track gusts and crushes, savagery at every corner, great leads commanding as howls smear into a vicious thrust. The intensity feels like staring a blast furnace in the face, clean lines slipping under the damage, crawling out into the rain. “Twilight Fell” is brutal and sorrowful, the riffs coating with blood as the growls menace. An airy burst fills your lungs as screams curdle and the pace pounds, elegant leads cascading as everything slowly fades. “None Shall Remember Your Name” runs 7:32 with the bass leading in, chugging, spacious playing opening up the space, and then twin leads blazing, aiming to gut you. Clean singing numbs before Coleman’s barks belt, the playing taking on a more technical feel, but in a way where you can feel a heart beating. Acoustics give brief respite before the force returns, blistering with hazy guitars, speaking mesmerizing, and beastly howls leaving you buried. 

“Bay of the Barghest” is murky to start before the thorns scrape, slashing through melodic pathways, the clean singing and charred screams turning into ideal partners. Guitars beam as the tempo grows faster and pretty catchy, bursting as speed and storms unite, blazing before finally subsiding. “The Tonic of Wilderness” stirs with relentless power, howls menacing, and a strong charge getting your blood flowing as the misery tightens its grip. Beastly growls incinerate as the leads activate, cleaner calls drain ash, and an animalistic force runs the back end into a brick wall. “Ghosts” has guitars dripping and stretching, shrieks overwhelming, and then the pace hitting a sprint, melting into a sea of melody. Leads jar as the energy spits, howls storm, and leads slice tributaries into flesh. Closer “Womb:Death:Dawn” runs 8:33 and hangs in the air after dawning, a doomier approach pushing this into darkness, solemn heaviness flooding as the emotion floods. The drums kick up as the playing gets sludgier, keys and static unite and poke eardrums, and then the guitars rule with an acidic assault. The leads envelop and chug as dreariness sets in, a final thrashing destroying and fading into mystery.

“Stormcaller” is an effort to unite every era of Krigsgrav and send them into a fiery future, and it pretty much succeeds at every turn. It’s heavy, unforgiving, melodic, morose, and apocalyptic, the perfect album for times that hang in the balance. Nothing is certain other than Krigsgrav always will push their art to the limit and demand you take the ride with them. It’ll be a rocky, violent journey, and you’ll come out of the other side galvanized.

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

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

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

There’s a lot of noise going on outside, plenty to disrupt your well-being, especially mentally. Even doing something as simple of checking your social media account or trying to decipher what’s being reported on the news can be too much, and I definitely understand how unhealthy that can be.

So, there’s little to quell our worries outside our doors, so perhaps turning inward to address that chaos and pain can begin to help a little bit. German black metal power Der Weg Einer Freiheit focus on those matters on their incredible new record “Innern,” which is German for “inward.” Here, the band—vocalist/guitarist Nikita Kamprad, guitarist Nicolas Rausch, bassist Alan Noruspur, drummer Tobias Schuler—turns their gears toward taking on what’s going on inside, trying to quiet the madness, and finding reflection and renewal. They do address the matters in our society that grind us to a pulp, but with a compassionate hand, tempering all of that with some of the most imaginative and immersive music of their entire careers.

Marter” is the 9:24-long opener and begins in a haze before ramping up, the drums bustling, howls tearing as a melodic fury engulfs everything. We then go from atmospheric right to the acidic belly of the beast, the pace shifting as guitars surge, the emotion calming for a brief respite as doom gusts into the picture. The playing hammers again, the energy rushes as growls gut, and the final moments slowly batter away. “Xibalba” is even longer at 10:07, a savage, daring attack overwhelming, growls marring as the storm grows blacker and hungrier. Even amid the chaos, there are fantastical elements that feel not of this world that join up with an increasingly boiling pace that eventually gives way to a synth sheen. Things feel equally trudging and dreamy as the guitars jar to a close. “Eos” is a real centerpiece gem, a song that starts off feeling progressive and wondrous, a hulking riff moving in and making the song its own, sticking in your brain. Vocals buzz as the playing mangles, beastly blistering leaving festering wounds, melodies swirling as clean singing arrives, increasing the drama and fading in calculated manner.

“Fragment” wooshes in and brings more delicate strains, cleaner singing swirling in the surrounding air, the fires eventually erupting and aiming to consume. Screams pierce and stretch as the playing journeys through the cosmos, destroying and dismantling worlds, bleeding right into instrumental cut “Finisterre III.” This is a continuation of a piece that was introduced two albums ago, the second installment of which appeared on their last record. This brings dripping piano and gathering mists, fog and elegance, and a gentle closing that sets the stage for closer “Forlorn.” Plucked guitars sting before eeriness spreads generously, clean singing bringing a pillowy nature, softer bass plodding as things feel oddly New Wave to a degree. Guitars then scuff as shrieks hammer, colorful playing heads into a pit of moodiness, and the calls of, “Please don’t let me go,” add to the introspection. The pressure builds and melts, warm synth floods, and alien swirl dissolves in air.

“Innern” offers a chance to escape with this music and take time for self-reflection and evaluation amid all of the upheaval surrounding us. We are not immune to that pressure, and Der Weg Einer Freiheit are fully aware, with their storminess and power continually exposing those truths and taking an inventory of oneself. While brutal and metallic, it also is a human record, one with compassion and awareness that flows through its every pore. 

For more on the band, go here: https://derwegeinerfreiheit.de/

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/list/der-weg-einer-freiheit-innern

Or here (international): https://shop.season-of-mist.com/list/der-weg-einer-freiheit-innern

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

I’ve been thinking about eternal damnation a lot lately, not that I’m worried about the concept; I’m amused at how many people who claim to be “of god” will end up there if it’s real. Like, a comical amount. Wondering where we might go from here if there is something beyond this plane can keep people awake at night, and we have no idea what’s there.

Ridiculously prolific black metal confounders Esoctrilihum take you on some demented trip elsewhere with every record, and on, “Ghostigmatah – Spiritual Rites of the Psychopomp Abxulöm,” sole creator Asthâghul’s latest under this banner, we enter the afterlife. According to the bio, “The album is divided into four chapters, each of which tells a ritual stage in the long journey of dead souls towards the jaws of the 8-eyed psychopomp Abxulöm, who will finally deliver them to eternal nothingness.” I hate a cut-and-paste job as much as the next guy, but how can I possibly summarize that in my own words? Anyway, Asthâghul continues his mesmerizing black metal path and adds more sounds including theremin, harp, kantele, and hammered dulcimer, deepening the mythology and what’s possible with your imagination.

“Hark! The Bewitched Trumpet of the Red Harbinger Is Calling the Dead to Gather” blasts open with delirium, synth bathing with strangeness as throaty wails pummel, a weird fantasy feel floating through the keys. The tempo strengthens its grip as the screams get more shrill, the playing going cold, clean, gothy singing stirring incantations. The chants chill as fevered stomps rattle, bizarre emanations floating into space. “Kneeling Before the Keeper of the Golden Key to the Absolute Void” ruptures, organs raining down, the howls warping as darkened thrash shakes bones loose. The hypnosis digs in deeper alongside more orchestral elements, a synth sheet darting ahead, sounds shooting through shadows as gnarly growls bring violent change. The playing gets catchier as the keys send horrors, eerie singing leading into a dramatic finish. “At The Mercy of the Flaming Spear of the Bestial Hierophant” smashes and churns as the riffs spiral and the keys smear. The mood is dizzying as hearty cries and clean singing unite, blurring and disorienting, tornadic chaos blasting into rubbery bass. “Flesh Pierced by the Blades of Thritônh, Eyes Devoured by Vulth Suidarl, the Giant Fly,” is metallic and leaves that taste in your mouth, the strings glowing as hypnosis encircles, shrieks belting as the atmosphere demands total immersion. The playing ramps up as crazed growls punish, and dizzying sludge makes the footing impossible, melting into madness. “Hypnotic Danse Macabre of the Blind Noctivagants” opens with acoustics dashing, the growls gnawing as hammered dulcimer sets an ancient tone. Growls echo as the guitars chug harder, strange clean singing haunting, the strings penetrating, the tempo crushing faces.

“Orgiastic Sacrificial Mass to Conjur Abxulöm, Psychopomp Supreme” is sinister and heavy, the growls crawling down your back, vicious sentiment working alongside alien pastoral chants. Sounds swarm as the growls rake nails down cosmic chalkboards, all elements entering a stormfront, the singing warbling as the door closes. “Saturnal Towers of the Mighty Scarlet Moon Upon the Black Universe” is numbing as the symphonic strains increase bodily temperatures, mangling cries punching holes in your psyche. All of the strings cause hellish drama, the attack getting sinister, tearing open a hole from another dimension for unknown horrors to enter ours. “The Cosmic Deathbringer Comes, Riding a Bloody Horse of Goshenite” drills into your brain, ugly, hellish vocals pouring previously unseen colors into a growing nightmare. The playing trudges and smashes, the growls breathing fire and leaving psychological wounds behind, a thrashy assault bleeding into a grisly ending. “Mauled, Swallowed and Dissolved Into Nothingness By the 8-Eyed Psychopomp” is melodic as hell out of the gates, with higher calls making nerve endings activate, and theremin pressing a ghostly presence into the creation. Growls encircle as phantasms vibrate, layers of frost accumulating and making your body shake uncontrollably, the guitars jolting. The leads scuff as the heat singes, tortured cries ringing in your ears, the exhaust lifting and letting light into the room. Closer “Supplication of the Veiled Saint From the Secret Book of the Ghostigmatah Rites” starts with strings glistening and whispers darting through the air, settling into a dream state. The delicacy slowly erodes as savage howls join the fray, sounds jangling, the ferocity disappearing into an acidic sun.

Every Esoctrilihum record is an experience that demands time and effort on your part, and “Ghostigmatah – Spiritual Rites of the Psychopomp Abxulöm” provides plenty of material for your undivided attention. This is a fully immersive experience, one that can damage and salt wounds at times, but taking this on as a whole provides a much more immersive mission than if you break it into chunks. Asthâghul’s ambitions know no bounds, and he’s willing to push you to the limit and beyond to connect with his ritualistic vision.

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

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

Or here (Europe): https://metalodyssey.8merch.com/record-label/i-voidhanger-records/

For more on the label, go here: https://i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/

It feels like utter hell here in the United States, what with fascism and the constant barrage of bullshit, but there are hellscapes where parts of the world are being torn apart, and survival from one day to the next hardly is guaranteed. Imagine trying to create something meaningful and impactful when bombs are falling all around you.

Ukrainian metal force Heruvim are in the middle of a warzone, and the idea they could put together a full-length record under those circumstances is perverse. Yet we have “Mercator,” the band’s first full-length album, a seven-track, 30-minute bruiser that breathes chaotic life into death metal. The band—vocalist/guitarist Nefarious, guitarist Kick Flis, bassist Hot Rod—had to create this album as their country is at war. They risked conscription, fighting, and death, crossing borders to make this happen. You’d think this would sound frenzied and punishing, and it does, but it also bursts with energy and life as if they’re determined to survive no matter what hell they experience.

“Mysterium Tremendum” starts with guitars crushing, twisting at muscle, sooty, snaking riffs going in and out of pools of blood. The carnage takes a break to turn mystifying, letting you breathe before the powder keg erupts, guitars swim through humidity, and the growls wrench your neck. “Nulla Res” delivers spidery leads, a confounding pathway forward, howls that tear at the flesh, and a pace that jerks you around and into walls. The playing thrashes even harder, upping the ante, bludgeoning with relentless ferocity. “Gnosis” brings the guitars to a boil, decimating as the vocals ravage, chaotic damage being served in generous portions. The playing leans into atmospheric heat as the leads gains some warmth, and everything turns to dust.

“Arammu” has a more techy open that aims to melt brains, and the guitars begin their exploration, howls carving passageways as the torment gets thicker. A strange psychedelic cloud hangs overhead as growls retch, rubbery guitar work punishes, and the final strains bleed into brief interlude “VII.” This feels like a strange isolation in an alien world, a robotic voice repeating Gorgias’ tenets about existence and knowledge. The title track bludgeons, wrecking and dizzying, the howls smashing as the pace grows more volatile. Blood rushes as the bass trudges, synth bristling, the heat spiking and fading. Closer “Lacrimae Rerum” has guitars cascading, growls swelling, and fast-strike leads taking over your imagination. The tempo chunks as the guitars add more excitement, howls darken, and things gradually fade into an increasingly uncertain darkness.

The ravages of war and the uncertainty of survival certainly inform “Mercator,” even if the lyrical content heads into more imaginative and psychologically stimulating territory. Heruvim put their lives on the line to make this record, which cannot be overstated, and the result is a strong, steady debut full-length that also leaves room to grow. Hopefully matters grow less volatile in their homeland (we’re not holding our breath, but we can hope) and that this can be a building block to a future that’s violent only from a metallic standpoint. 

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

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

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

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

There are those bands that once you indulge in their music, the way your brain processes that particular art form changes a little bit. Somehow, my TikTok algorithm led me to Faetooth, a Los Angeles-based doom power that creates heavy, yet enchanting songs, stuff that crawls into your imagination and helps you see new colors. I hear things differently since being introduced to them.

“Labyrinthine” is the band’s second record and first for The Flenser, and it’s a 10-track, 55-minute excursion that picks up where 2002’s “Remnants of the Vessel” (our No. 6 album that year) leaves off and then goes into new terrain. Thematically, the band—bassist/vocalist Jenna Garcia, guitarist/vocalist Ari May, drummer Rah Kanan—takes on inner turmoil, personal wounds, and loss, among others, with their heaviness intertwining breath-takingly with softer tones and psychedelic flourishes. This album is one that may take a few visits to truly set in, which was the case for their debut, but it’s easy to instantly be spellbound by the music. Digging deeper reveals richer meaning.

“Iron Gate” bathes in feedback, solemnity and clean singing bubbling, and then the power punches in, adding to the thicker haze. The singing lures while the growls scrape passages beneath, and then voices harmonize. Hypnosis mixes as the energy burns off into the horizon. “Death of Day” has the bass sliding and the guitars trudging, dreamy singing icing over wounds. The crunch arrives in the form of blistering riffs and feral growls before the calmer verses help alleviate the burn. The playing gets burly again, riffs tangling, shrieks wrenching as the spirit spirals away. “It Washes Over” has a clean start before buzzing, and then the singing floats, easing into an increasingly darker doom cauldron. Guitars heat and spread as the growls menace, desperation rumbling as everything fades. “Hole” is slower and crawls through thickening fog, then the power guts, and the singing swells, making blood rush. The shrieks bruise as the mesmerizing pace blossoms, churning through chaos to the edge of a storm. “White Noise” is muddy at first before cleaner guitars and tingling singing activate emotions, then screams belt, letting lava gust before the temps drop again. The battle between light and dark engulfs as howls rip, hypnotic dirges spread misery, and everything simmers into silence.

“Eviserate” bleeds clean, soft singing pulling you down pathways, and then the screams ravage, desperation and anguish playing tug of war. Viciousness rears its head and flattens bones, emotional singing makes your heart ache, and smoke encapsulates all. “October” is ceremonial and chilly before guitars blaze and churn, a strong chorus pumping blood from a pierced heart. Guitars buzz as the pain permeates the senses, the power surges, and the cosmos swallows everything whole. “Mater Dolorosa” digs in, the singing feeling like a dreamscape, the playing buckling while swimming through tar. The pace slowly batters as howls punish, the aura turns moodier, and guitars leave a stinging sensation. “The Well” is a brief instrumental built with slow-driving force, guitars that add a deep freeze, and an essence that hangs in the clouds. Closer “Meet Your Maker” is the longest track at 8:28, and it dissolves into blood, the singing mesmerizing before the fires blast, sweeping with strange speaking and increasingly harrowing shadows. The pace chugs more as the guitars char, igniting a gazey heatwave that builds and scalds as the last moments draw near, ending everything in an immersive dream. 

“Labyrinthine” is Faetooth at their most vulnerable, at least to this point, and their ethereal brand of doom remains the type that works best when absorbed in dark silence, with only you and the music there to connect. It was clear from when this band first arrived that they had something special to add to the doom kingdom, and theirs is more personal, introspective, and also thunderous. This is a band that deserves your attention now and moving forward, because chances are this journey has only begun, and the twists and turns from here cannot be predicted. Only experienced. 

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

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

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

Death metal doesn’t have to just be about gore and horrors, guts and coffins. I mean, it’s pretty fun when it’s that way, but the subgenre has gone well past the graveyards and deep into space and elsewhere, so the boundary pushing is what’s keeping it exciting. The good stuff can be almost trancelike, letting your consciousness go elsewhere.

Pittsburgh death horde Ritual Mass have the brutality down to a science, but their aspirations lie beyond that, which they prove on their mesmerizing debut full-length “Cascading Misery.” Not that their ambition is something new, as anyone who has seen them live or indulged in their 2019 EP “Abhorred in the Eyes of God” can attest. It’s that creating these six cuts obviously unlocked something morbidly adventurous in the band—vocalist/bassist/synth player N. Dudash, guitarist/backing vocalist P. Trona, guitarist R. Mauck, drummer G. Austin. These 41 minutes are horrifying for sure but also challenge the listener to find things inside of them that are more unsettling and not of this world.

“Obsidian Mirror” starts with synth beams that feel like they’re invading from another realm, and then the leads stir and the vocals scar, driving a wedge between realities. A furious pace erupts that amplifies the brutality, the pace eventually slowing some before a smearing, blurring finish. “Immeasurable Hell” has guitars snarling and blazing, howls menacing, and smoke rising dangerously. The pace jars before hypnotic leads bleed under the door, the chugging feeling causing bones to ache before everything ends in psychedelic torture. “Looming Shapeless Entity” begins with a steamrolling tempo, the guitars boiling and disorienting, vicious howls blending in with the uncomfortably humid air. Leads moan as the growls retch, the heat becoming insurmountable as you struggle for fresh air.

The title track attacks, raw growls digging under fingernails, gargantuan riffs flexing and making things uncomfortable. As the track goes on, the leads insert the knife and twist, devastating as the chugging pace pummels, and a relentless low end suffocates. “Frozen Marrow,” which is a nice treat on a warm day, is mucky as hell, guitars mangling, the speed hulking as the bass chews. It’s a smashing machine aiming for any healthy limb you have left, guitars marring as a synth cloud envelopes and poisons. Closer “Disquiet” runs 14:32, and it starts in doomy waters, disorienting and landing relentless blows, the roars crushing as the playing turns maniacal. Guitars steam as the mid-section plays tricks with your mind, going clean, dreamy, and a bit surreal. The beast slowly emerges from the darkness and tears into you, the roars rampage, and a pit of corrosion disintegrates bones and leaves a sticky mess behind.

“Cascading Misery” is a record that’s plenty brutal, but Ritual Mass’ goal doesn’t appear to just be creating horrific music for times that match. This is immersive, psychological, and pathological, a record that works as hard on your mind as it does your ears. As a true coming-out party for this band, this album could not be more intense and unforgiving, allowing almost no time to prepare or take a meaningful breath. 

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

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

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

If you’re feeling frustrated every time you open your eyes each morning, well, get in fucking line because it’s long and you’re going to be there a while. It’s a particularly aggravating time to be alive, the past eight months a real low point, and being able to just torch something to release that pent-up anger can be a productive outlet.

Motherless sure as shit sounds like an outlet to get things out of their systems. The band—vocalist/guitarist Stavros Giannopoulos, guitarist/vocalist Anthony Cwan, bassist Alex Klein, drummer Gary Naples—pours vitriol and fire into “Do You Feel Safe?” their destructive debut full-length album. Over eight tracks and almost 34 minutes, this sludgy, driving madness grows to a boil quickly and stays spewing chaos the entire goddamn time. This group comprised of members of the Atlas Moth, Novembers Doom, and Without Waves, and they collect their might and punish like there’s no tomorrow.

“Reptile Dysfunction” is a sludgy beast that blasts out of the gates, acidic howls punishing as the bass trudges. The intensity builds from there, threatening and pouring fuel on an already raging fire. “Abrupt Violence” keeps the attack alive, the playing scarring as the intensity remains on high. “I’ve lost my confidence in man, strike down false prophets where they stand,” Giannopoulos wails, the guitars bleeding metallic blood, a pulverizing fury leaving bodies heaving. “You Seem So Damn Sure” fires up, bass chugging, a smoldering D beat barrage taking you down for raw fists to the face. Screams peel rust from metal, a stirring, blurring attack adding to your disorientation, a clip from Jake “the Snake” Roberts from Wrestlemania VI adding to your wounds. “Darling, You Don’t Look Well” starts eerily before guitars start to churn and stretch, a thick haziness hanging overhead. Lead then scuff and leave patches of sunburn, a trucking, thrashy assault barreling full speed ahead before it corrodes.

“Weaponized Goodwill” hammers the gas pedal, the howls kill, and a melodic swath adds some soothing to your blisters. The playing then clubs harder, wails retch, and everything boils to an oddly atmospheric end. “Christian Math” belts you in the face, barked wails making a blunt impression, Giannopoulos howling, “Go set it on fire, for your survival, a new hell awaits, but it won’t suppress my strength.” Parts of this are oddly approachable while others pull you into the frenzy, stomping through mud before a blurry finish. “Insect Politics” squeezes veins, throaty howls gutting, a vicious and scathing campaign designed to lop off heads. Guitars angle into rubbery, confounding terrain, mean snarling smothering ash in mouths. Closer “The New Romance” starts off feeling like a more aggressive At the Drive In track at first blush, but then it leans into raw force and energy, the drums blasting holes in your chest. Things grow rowdier as fiery soloing launches, Giannopoulos barking, “I’ll be swinging all the way down until I’m 6 feet underground.”

“Do You Feel Safe?” is a motherfucker of a record, a ravaging, bloodthirsty trip through personal and societal turmoil that plague us all. Motherless found an outlet for themselves to release that frustration, and perhaps spending time with these eight songs can do the same for you. There’s no glamor here, no gimmicks, just a burst of metallic power that refuses to adhere to musical boundaries and beats the fucking shit out of you. 

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

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

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

There are those among us who believe they are destined for the heavens despite the amount of suffering they allow based on their idea of some sort of pious plan. It’s a fucking lie, it’s all complete horse shit, yet these people spew this nonsense all the time. Yeah, torture as many people here on earth and be met with the heavens. 

Finnish blackened death metal crushers Proscription are well aware of the false faith of so many, especially our world’s leaders, and their bludgeoning new record “Desolate Divine” imagines a supposed true believer who passes on only to find heaven is a pit of dust. This isn’t new ground for the band—vocalist/guitarist ChristButcher, guitarist Cruciatus, bassist/vocalist Apep, drummer M.K.—as they’ve long torched the deeply devout for their supposed faith. But we see awful people every day try to use the name of god to put a gold stamp on torture, abuse, oppression, and greed, so what better ending for them? A gift of very conscious nothingness where their expected paradise was supposed to be.

“Gleam of the Morningstar” charges in, deep growls punishing, screams balancing that out as things head into a vicious cycle. Yells punish as the playing engorges, setting fires that lead a pathway to death. “Bleed the Whore Again” is storming and evil, the leads reigning as beastly, rapid fury ravages. Howls sicken as the playing continues to weaken wills, wiry and sinewy leads wrap their tentacles, and the slaughter finally ends mercifully. “Entreaty of the Very End” is instant carnage, hellish playing decimating as the guitars begin to explore the atmosphere. Brute force returns and leaves damage behind, the wrenching growls turning guts in bellies. “The Midnight God” has guitars hovering as pained howls echo, the playing ramping up and slowly strangling. The pace jolts as guitars sweep, vicious cries snarling to the end.

“Behold a Phosphorescent Dawn” has a smoking open, growls hammering as the guitars rise, total domination stomping your chest. Guitars ignite as the savagery continues, charging and burning into dust. “Heave Ho Ye Igneous Leviathan” races and tears, growls churning as the band beats you into a pulp. Humidity thickens as the shrieks come unglued, a trucking pace taking you underneath their wheels, the devastation flexing and humiliating you thoroughly. “Desolate Divine” is monstrous, the growls welling as a hypnotic outburst makes the room spin, the drumming annihilating. Vile howls sicken as the leads pierce flesh, ending in a mound of utter filth. “The Great Deceiver” is a quick interlude that’s eerie, strange, and chilling, making you feel the desperation of isolation before turning into closer “Not but Dust.” Guitars freeze as the playing unloads, the drums rampaging, and an uneasy pace turning your stomach. The guitars get more ambitious as airy, melodic strains send chills before one final meeting with the blast furnace.

I laugh and laugh when I think of people, especially world leaders, who claim their inhumane actions are some sort of mission from god, and the piggies just slop it up. “Desolate Divine” would be a nice, blunt, sobering wake-up call for them, one that Proscription perhaps didn’t intend to deliver in quite that way, but here we are. This is vicious, blackened, spiritual onslaught best served for those who think they’re promised eternal reward only to be met with nothingness. 

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

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

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

We live in a world awash in darkness, an era when it feels like the tumbling blocks for humanity’s downfall are outside our doorstep. Would you blame people for turning to darker sources for inspiration when the people running this world keep chirping that they’re doing it for their god in heaven?

Belgian black metal force LVTHN have an homage to the more beastly of spirits on “The Devil’s Bridge,” their second album and first in nine years. It’s a properly fiery affair, a record that blends heaviness with mind-fucking strangeness that take you somewhere else. The band, comprised of ZD, DS, DH, CV, KW, a shadowy group whose roles are not identified and who operate as a united whole, let their actions create the perfect ritualistic bloodletting. This is their collection of devotional music that flows through them not so much as songs but as hymns. It’s a massive turn away from the light and into the relentless chaos of the unknown.

“A Malignant Encounter – The Servant” starts with guitars scarring before black metal clouds settle over, howls ripping as the pace rampages into the heart of the storm. Furious melodies jolt as a blazing force takes hold and makes the ride even rockier, shrieks clawing at eye sockets, a frenzied burst ending in melodic haze. “A Malignant Encounter – The Master” has crazed riffs that turn into a tornado, chewing up ground as the guitars continue to menace. Claws dig into flesh as the punchy, mashing tempo leaves bruising, guitars dash, and the final moments scorch earth. “Cacodaemon” is delirious, a dizzying attack that combines with throaty wails and a clobbering front, and then things calm a bit, talk-like howls applying pressure. The pace combusts as the drums turn everything to dust, a boiling cauldron of heat spilling over, vicious cries hurtling toward the horizon. 

“Sum Quod Eris” blisters with heated fury, the vocals carving into your nervous system, slowly strangling as the guitars speed up the pace. Shrieks ravage as the leads get even faster, spiraling out and leaving carnage behind. “Grim Vengeance” scrambles brains, sweltering through tricky guitars, almost zany histrionics, leaving deep psychological damage. Howls melt as the playing gains force, the drums pounding everything into submission. “Mother of Abominations” is dark and churning, the vocals lacerating as the guitars catch fire, excitedly mangling. Guitars tingle as the whispers of, “Mother of abominations, breaker of chains,” sends chills that freeze you in place. The closing title track smashes, howls echoing, the pace wrenching and robbing you of comfort. Then guitars get dirtier as heads are bashed, the vocals tighten their grip, and everything slips slowly into the dark. 

“The Devil’s Bridge” is not to be approached lightly, as LVTHN make evidently clear on this record that feels like a calling of dark forces to ravage this reality. This is devotional music, but the record also is a question to oneself of what one is willing to do for existential freedom. It’s something for late nights when you’re trying to answer questions that lie beyond this plane.

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

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

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

This has been one of the worst summers, at least temperature wise, that I can remember. Typically, I enjoy being outdoors in the summer and taking long walks, but these past few months have been different. It’s exhausting being out there, and my body and mind can’t handle this. Climate’s fine, though! At least winter isn’t too far away.

That’s fitting today as we have the new self-titled album from Canadian black metal force Finnr’s Cane to discuss, and damn if it didn’t minorly chill my bones amid sweltering heat and humidity. This record, their fourth and first in seven years, combines frigid metallic might with rustic folk infusions and thoughts of frigid tundra, which is not a huge shift for them or anything. In fact, hearing this collection from Finnr’s Cane—vocalist/guitarist The Bard, cellist/keyboard player The Slave, drummer The Peasant—not only transports minds to colder temperatures but also captures the imagination, allowing the listeners to carve their own adventures in their heads. 

“Wayward Souls” starts with choral calls before guitars scuff, a mix of clean singing and detached speaking bellowing, which is spread over the whole album. Keys flutter as the guitars burn, feeling fantastical as desperate cries leave welts. “Twilight Glow” blends in with clean guitars and an active pace, rushing as howls blister, keys plinking as the atmosphere swells. Hypnosis strikes as acoustics trace, the pace combusts, and everything burns to ashes. “Awaken the Sleeping Forest” digs in, rushing past you, the speaking/howling getting into your brain, melodies storming and trudging. The leads explode as melodies layer, blood rushes to your heart, and things end in an abrupt jolt. “In Shadows” dawns with liquifying guitars, vicious howls belting, the energy stoking fires that illuminate dark caverns. Grisly howls menace as an animalistic pace lets loose, punishing through atmosphere and grit as the guitars turn cleaner before fading.

“The Northwind” has drums encircling as riffs gust, the vocals twisting between storytelling and agony. Guitars turn gazey and melt while keys jab, and then a jolting offensive pushes into feral shouts and a spreading fog. “The Everwinter Grey” opens with strings gliding, keys dripping, and the singing lulling, the guitars gushing and swimming in hazy waters. The power slowly builds as the drums rupture, the howls mash, and a ravaging spirit takes everything to a quaking end. “The Spell of the Change of Seasons” has speaking encircling, and eerie, yet frosty vibes permeating, and a folkish dash underneath everything. Melody glows, though it’s through a thick murk, and as a monologue creaks, the attack suddenly ravages and jolts away suddenly. Closer “Harvest” begins calmly before the center explodes, cold, focused tributaries carrying you toward winter. There’s a bit of an Agalloch sense here as things get more spacious and active, the playing jostles before holding back, and everything fades with a simmering heartbeat.

With winter (or what’s left of that season when it truly arrives) only a few months away, Finnr’s Cane’s new self-titled album provides a hit of solace as we are immersed in stifling heat that seems to know no bounds. This band remains as adventurous as ever, a reminder that there is some relief in the distance, and that days stomping through (hopefully) snowy forests are closer. Having this land in the summer gives us a chance to get our minds right and our hopes turned toward an eventual deep freeze.

For more on the band, go here: https://finnrs-cane.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://nordvis.lnk.to/finnrs-cane

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