Back in my university days, I had a part-time bar job and on one occasion we played host to a Romanian wedding party, complete with traditional dress, dancing, and folk music. It was a magnificent, albeit slightly surreal evening that opened my eyes to the folk genre and broadened my musical horizons immeasurably, so when offered the chance to review Zi — the latest offering from storied Romanian blackened folk metallers Negură Bunget — I jumped at the opportunity.

For those unfamiliar with the band’s history, Negură Bunget formed as a fairly straightforward black metal act in the city of Timișoara in the mid-nineties. Operating as a three-piece for most of their career, they gradually established a more traditional Romanian folk-inspired sound along the way, however, an internal dispute in 2010 led to the departure of principal songwriters Hupogrammos and Sol Faur, who withdrew to form their own band, Dordeduh. This left drummer Negru to recruit an entirely new lineup of musicians to fill the ranks, and many feared this to be the spiritual end of Negură Bunget altogether, with their two studio albums post-split — Vîrstele Pămîntului and Tău — meeting with mixed reviews. The arrival of Zi, therefore, is something of a make-or-break moment for the band’s new incarnation. Fortunately, they have managed to create something very special indeed.

Through their music, Negură Bunget seek to provide a window into the esoteric world of their homeland and its traditional way of life. Utilizing an array of native folk instruments, they craft a strange, otherworldly atmosphere, sucking the listener in and transporting them to another time and place altogether. Invoking images of rolling grassy vistas, dense woodland and glistening rivers meandering their way down from the towering Carpathian mountains. Zi paints a vivid picture of the majestic Romanian landscape in the mind’s eye, pristine and uncorrupted — an environment still resolutely the domain of nature as opposed to man.

Zi is a slow burner — a record to be listened to in one sitting, in chronological order and with no interruptions. When these conditions are met, however, the album takes on the form of a living entity in its own right. Starting with the creeping, breathy quiet of opener “Tul-ni-că-rînd,” it gradually builds up to a resplendent peak, before gracefully winding down to the gentle conclusion of “Marea Cea Mare,” inviting the listener to sit back and contemplate the journey upon which they’ve just embarked. Each track is like the chapter of a book, purposefully complementing the last and leading into the next, and this is why it’s so important to experience Zi in a single sitting; everything has a context in which it must be appreciated in order to provide perspective and clarity.

The production of Zi is a vast improvement upon that of its predecessor, Tău — which came under fire for its somewhat synthetic overtones — sounding deep and organic, as true folk music should, the instruments balanced perfectly so as to render each component audible without being overbearing. Indeed, it is difficult to find much wrong here at all, however, if I am to be especially picky, it would have lent the album a more cohesive air if each track flowed seamlessly into the next, as opposed to having defined periods of silence dividing the record into blocks. This is hardly a terminal issue however and certainly does not detract from the overarching quality of the record.

When Hupogrammos and Sol Faur parted ways with Negru, many people had Negură Bunget written off altogether, however, the stubborn drummer and his band of acolytes have proven that such fears were premature. Zi requires patience and calm to digest and an open mind to experience fully, but it rewards the listener with a beautiful, captivating, ethereal experience that truly transcends national, cultural and linguistic boundaries. A few years ago, I was at a Sólstafir show and recall Addi describing the manner in which music can do just that; “Most of you will have never been to our country, and even fewer of you will speak our language,” he said, “but through the power of music, you understand exactly what we’re about.” In that moment he could have almost been talking from the perspective of Negură Bunget in 2016, as Zi is an immersive listening experience and represents a triumphant return to form for Negru and his new compatriots.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Lupus Lounge – Prophecy Productions
Website: negura-bunget.bandcamp.com | negurabunget.com |facebook.com/negurabunget
Releases Worldwide: September 30th, 2016

The post Negură Bunget – Zi Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

God is dead, but what can be done once the corpse is buried? Just to the left of nihilism, HP Lovecraft staked out a territory where divinity was absent and mankind insignificant, battered by forces beyond time and comprehension. Anti-christian, nihilistic, and cosmicist themes have all long been staples of metal, both lyrically and musically – but after decades the fear is gone; the well dry and the water stagnant. To reach ever greater extremes, these tropes must be transcended. Ulcerate did so. Their music reaches deeper than Lovecraft, whose fantastic god-creatures crumble before what they represent: reality. Since Everything is Fire, they have charted their own path, using music not just as art but, I would argue, as a philosophical exercise. Their art does not only transcend death metal; it transcends death, mixing Lovecraftian themes in death metal with the nature-reverence of Cascadian black metal towards a sort of naturalistic cosmicism. In Ulcerate‘s music, life itself is insignificant, not before alien gods, but before earth, light, and entropy. Shrines of Paralysis stays the course.

What strikes you first is the violence. “Abrogation” wastes no time slowly opening the gates; those familiar with Ulcerate already know what lies beyond – and that dawns on you next. The violence is a byproduct, and as “Abrogation” slows, the absolute vastness of Shrines of Paralysis becomes clear. Whereas Vermis was jagged and claustrophobically oppressive, its absolute spelean blackness as impenetrable as it was omnipresent, Shrines brings us back to the surface, where The Destroyers of All left off. In “Yield to Naught,” fragmented shards of melody flicker unevenly past the tumult like hapless sunbeams to scorch the barren soil below. “There are No Saviours,” pushes back out of that substrate, and after a lengthy introduction relapses into furor.

Vermis also suffered from a somewhat monotone mid-album, something that Shrines of Paralysis most definitely avoids. The title track writhes through a dozen ideas smoothly, pulling together fragments of melody into a desolate architecture that’s among the album’s greatest accomplishments, and “Extinguished Light” provides a more visceral reaction than any piece of music I’ve heard this year. Ulcerate‘s spellbinding compositions are at times fugue-like in their use of repetition, yet produce anything but complacency. In a darkened room, the highest points of “Extinguished Light,” bring one’s stomach to the throat, as a very real sense of dread and fear twist through the mind. It’s a feeling of existential horror that remains as powerful here as when I first felt it listening to The Destroyers of All.

Though every Ulcerate album since Everything is Fire has been fantastic on a musical level, each has suffered from a compressed master that makes listening through the entire thing a chore. Such dense music begins to induce fatigue very quickly, and Shrines of Paralysis proved often difficult to sit through because of the sonic monotony. It’s confusing to me how a band with such a fantastic grasp of dynamics and contrast in their writing can crush those exact qualities out of the master, which definitely suffers for its lack of dynamic range. After Ad Nauseam demonstrated how incredible this sort of music can be when left rich and dynamic, Ulcerate‘s recordings seem just a bit more wanting.

In a way, Shrines of Paralysis is nothing more than what is expected; a densely written record that’s both technical and brutal, harrowing yet atmospheric. What we’ve come to expect from Ulcerate is far beyond that of other musicians. In its performances, writing, and scope, Shrines of Paralysis is a cut above, but in emotional impact, it’s paralleled only by the band’s previous work. These albums have rapidly disfigured the face of extreme metal and brought blood back to the surface; they are lofty in ambition and terrifying in scope, and though short of perfection will undoubtedly be seen as classics in the years to come. Whether as a musical statement or philosophical exploration, Shrines of Paralysis is an unqualified success.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: ulcerate.bandcamp.com | ulcerate-official.com | facebook.com/ulcerate
Releases Worldwide: October 28th, 2016

The post Ulcerate – Shrines of Paralysis Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Longtime metalheads probably remember Mithras as that English duo who, despite being signed to Candlelight and releasing three acclaimed records in the mid-00s, were largely lost in the Behemoth– and Nile-led death metal resurgence of that decade. Which is a damn shame, because works like the Mesopotamian pummeling of 2002 debut Forever Advancing… Legions and the ‘Morbid Angel in Space!’ vibe of 2003’s Worlds Beyond the Veil deserved far wider recognition than they got. Mainman Leon Macey’s performances were particularly astounding – the dude’s drumming was up there with Peter Sandoval in terms of speed and ability, and his sweeping guitar theatrics were a sight to behold. Sadly, the group became largely inactive after 2007’s excellent Beyond the Shadows Lie Madness, releasing only the two-song Time Never Lasts EP in 2011 and baring their influence on last year’s Sarpanitum record, for which Macey contributed drumming and production duties. Now, Mithras is finally back with fourth full-length On Strange Loops – an album reportedly six years in the making and probably the last with longtime vocalist/bassist Rayner Coss, who left the group earlier this year. Strap in, sit tight, and set phasers to ‘fuck yeah’ as we explore what’s likely to be the best death metal record of 2016.

Opener “Why Do We Live?” sets the spacey mood with buildup drumming and rapidly oscillating notes, before first proper track “When the Stars Align” explodes with a swift drumroll and blunt chords that hit like a goddamn gamma ray burst. The first 45 seconds alone showcase everything I love about Mithras: choppy Azagthoth-inspired riffing, hyperspeed yet wholly human drumming, and those chaotic star-grappling leads which sound like a particle storm being accelerated to light speed. Coss sounds equally fierce behind the mic, delivering lines about ‘converging galaxies’ with a bellowed shout that recalls a godlier version of Vader’s Peter Wiwczarek.

As intertwining choral melodies take over in the song’s second half, Loops’ true goal becomes clear: this is a comeback record that is concerned with neither progressing the band’s sound nor recreating past glories. Instead, Loops shows Macey doubling down on everything that’s always made Mithras great, resulting in the band’s strongest work yet. Early highlight “The Statue on the Island” showcases the tightened songwriting at play, with a repetitive circular melody that morphs and reforms throughout the track’s runtime, layered with faint backing choirs to boot. Likewise, the production sounds at once sharper, more forceful, and more spacious than previous works, despite a lower DR than my ears originally expected. Most prominent is Macey’s stellar guitar-work, examples of which are aplenty. “Odyssey’s End” begins with nebulous clean picking before rumbling on a delicious plasmatic groove, while “Between Scylla and Charybdis” evokes the feeling of being sucked down a black hole with its violently shrill main riff.

The traits that really elevate Loops to the heavens, however, are the album’s concept and construction. As heard with “Howling of the Distant Spaces” and aforementioned “Scylla,” many tracks flow directly into one another, giving the record a cohesive urgency that’s offset by the band’s trademark celestial interludes. The end result is a 56 minute journey that can be both relentless and reflective, a work best consumed whole in its exploration of the concept of time and the purpose of human existence. After a set of monumental riffs and majestic leads in the closing title track, a series of fluttery notes mimic those in the album’s opener, before this overarching theme is looped together in the final verses with an echoed shout of ‘Why did we live?’ I’m tempted to answer that question with “because the new Mithras record wasn’t out yet.”

I’d be remiss in saying Loops is flawless – as Kronos described it so well at the AMG water cooler, Macey’s ‘blocky’ riffing style certainly doesn’t outshine his influences. But instead of out-riffing the innovators, Macey operates by doing the absolute best he can with his talents, fusing years of song-tweaking with raw improvisation to craft 12 tracks of the most warped and transcendent death metal 2016 has yet produced. Curious listeners and longtime fans are sure to love Loops, as is anyone with a Morbid Angel sweet tooth and a vinyl copy of Formulas Fatal to the Flesh. And for those who’ve been sleeping on the band up to now, consider this your fucking wake up call.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Willowtip Records
Websites: facebook.com/mithrasuk | mithrasuk.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: October 21st, 2016

The post Mithras – On Strange Loops Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

As an unpatriotic Englishman, it’s not an issue for me to love Saor. From North of the border, Andy Marshall’s evocative vessel for Scottish pride and history hasn’t yet failed to impress, from Roots to Aura and now on to Guardians. Celtic-infused black metal softened with strong melodies and atmosphere, the two prior records aren’t significantly different and yet both come highly recommended. I was marginally concerned this time given the release of Marshall’s other project this year – had there been enough time given? Had ideas been split between the two? I can happily report that my fears were unfounded and he’s really nailed this one.

Though the tracks are as lengthy as they’ve ever been, Marshall has that Moonsorrow-like knack for writing long, cyclical songs that are thoroughly engrossing throughout and truly embed themselves. If anything, Saor‘s melodies have even more resonance this time around. Each track is obviously the result of much time and effort and they’re remarkable and all invoke some new emotion: wonderment on “Guardians;” longing on “The Declaration;” distance on “Autumn Rain;” heroism on “Hearth;” and pride on “Tears of a Nation.” Your heart will soar, wrench and swell as the album flows and it’s truly one of the most emotive things I’ve heard this year. There’s an over-arching entrancement present but the emotional gamut it nonetheless runs is wonderful.

But more substantially than such touchy-feely bollocks, it’s the compositions that make Guardians tick. The riffs are plenty good and surprisingly technical at points, such as on the title track and in the neat flourishes transitioning into the heightened melodies on “Hearth.” But it’s when these are layered with the traditional instrumentation that Saor leaves their competitors behind. The duality of distorted guitars with fiddles, strings, bagpipes and other whistles elevates all involved instruments. Indeed, bagpipes are used more prominently here than anywhere in their discography. Though all writing is accredited to Marshall, recognition must also be given to his range of guest musicians fleshing out these other aspects, including Bryan Hamilton (Cnoc An Tursa) on drums, John Becker on strings, Meri Tadic on fiddle, Reni McDonald Hill on bodhrán and Kevin Murphy on bagpipes. This ensures all parts of the music are executed professionally and haven’t been cheaply integrated, which is a cut above most folk metal.

It’s a testament to the strength of the song-writing that the structures are entirely repetitive yet no track is dull. Particular passages can repeat with few variations for significant periods of time and the only substantial development save a couple of quieter interludes is an emotional heightening towards the end of all songs. Though by the end this swelling is expected it’s no less powerful for it. The conclusion of “The Declaration” is utterly undeniable with a melodic black metal passage from 8:10 which rivals the best of them. Similarly, the slow solemnity before the final climax on “Hearth” is just exquisite and that climax may be the best part of the album. It’s just so epic. Guardians is formulaic but it’s a formula that works incredibly well.

What remains is something to make even the most cricket-playing, Pimms-drinking, colony-acquiring Englishman rip his trousers into a kilt and cry for the blood of the South. As if simply recording at Cairndow and on Skye wasn’t sufficiently Scottish, every note from Guardians exudes Scotland, acting as a resounding reminder that I need to revisit the beautiful Highlands. Even if the subject matter wasn’t so conspicuous in the lyrics and themes, the resulting melodic black metal would still be excellent. Saor is habitually great but this is particularly so.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps MP3
Label: Northern Silence Productions
Websites: facebook.com/saor | saor.bandcamp.com
Releases worldwide: November 11th, 2016

The post Saor – Guardians Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Pennsylvania’s Zao needs no further introduction. One of metalcore’s pioneering bands influenced a huge swath of groups, mainstream and underground, with their chaotic riffing, pummeling rhythms, honest, heart-wrenching lyrics and venomous screaming of Dan Weyandt. And while the band endured quite the past (with pigeonholing by fans, both Christian and secular, shedding their Christian overtones, and line-up shuffles to where there are no original members left in the band), Zao continue to walk to the beat of their own drum while inviting the fans to come along. Seven years between albums, though, is quite the absence, even for a band who tours with decreasing frequency. However, a two-song teaser released last year provided a glimpse of what they were working on, and now The Well-Intentioned Virus is here and it features returning guitarist Russ Cogdell.

Right off the bat, “The Weeping Vessel” slowly and gently sets a somber mood with jangly arpeggios before the band lurches forward with a visceral riff interplay between Cogdell and fellow guitarist Scott Mellinger. Jeff Gretz pummels forth with some heavy fills, building tension without overpowering the guitars or Marty Lunn’s bass. Weyandt’s voice, once compared to Carcass‘s Jeff Walker, shows no signs of wear after years of vocal torture, sounding just as venomous as he did on 1998’s landmark Where Blood and Fire Bring Rest. His lyrics continue to amaze, giving perspective to what I assume is a miscarriage (“Procession to a grave/Unknown is the one we mourn/An entity lost its way/To this physical plane”) that’s, once again, spat out with a passionate anger that only Weyandt can provide. In other words, while sounding fresh and modern, it is still unflinchingly (and thankfully) Zao to its core.

The time off works to Zao‘s advantage, as The Well-Intentioned Virus showcases some of their best writing yet. Closer “I Leave You In Peace” could’ve fit right in on 2006’s viscerally ugly The Fear Is What Keeps Us Here in terms of heft and Gretz’s ridiculously heavy Neurosis-like drumming. “Xenophobe,” one of the two tracks released last year, sounds more frantic and impactful here. The lyrics also reflect the times with a sad, stark accuracy (“Implant a thought, sow the seed/Groom xenophobic racist steeds/Loud and dumb without folly/Shouting ‘Stop evolving Uber Alles'”). Even the singing voice of Mellinger improved immeasurably, as it gives songs like “Observed/Observer” and “Haunting Pools” a nice counterpoint to work with.

Yet, despite listening to the album repeatedly, I’m hard-pressed to find a standout track on The Well-Intentioned Virus. Mind you, this isn’t a dig towards the album. In the past, songs like “Lies of Serpents, A River of Tears,” “If These Scars Could Speak,” and “A Tool To Scream” clearly stuck out from the rest. No such claim can be made here due to how mature and vital it all sounds. Every song possesses a purpose on Virus. The warm, dynamic production also benefits the album. The bass remains audible without losing any heft, the guitars feel warm and heavy, and the drums sound organic and thick.

2016, despite all the loses and defeats, marks the Year of the Comeback. Candiria returned after a lengthy lay-off with a great album, and Metallica… also made a record. And even though some some songs may feel a bit longer than necessary, Zao left the biggest mark for me this year. Just as their name means “alive” in Greek, so too does The Well-Intentioned Virus teem with vibrancy and urgency. Proof you can mature as a band without losing any intensity or integrity. I just hope the next album takes less than seven years, but this was well worth the wait. Highly recommended.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: vo mp3
Label: Observed/Observer Recordings
Websites: officialzao.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/ZAO.Official
Releases Worldwide: December 9th, 2016

The post Zao – The Well-Intentioned Virus Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

My grim compulsion for all things death metal was initially born from a worship of the burgeoning Floridian and Swedish scenes,  spawned originally as a continuation of my immortal love of thrash. I was immediately addicted to the genre’s inherent heaviness and dark theatricality, but it wasn’t until I eventually stumbled into the path of the New York acts, who heralded a denser, altogether heavier wave of death, that I would come into contact with Immolation, marking the first time I would be exposed to truly oppressive metal. It was unflinching, uneasy and threatening, and wholly without its brother’s tongue-in-cheek horror movie sensibility – in its place was a darkly brutal polemic of anti-religious, sociopolitical proportions. Now, continuing a rare trend of career-spanning quality, the band are preparing to drop tenth studio album Atonement, and with it eleven new tenets of warped and titanic Christ aversions.

2013’s Kingdom of Conspiracy saw Immolation honing their sound into a faster and more typically aggressive model, and, although undeniably potent stuff, I wasn’t as enamored as I had been with predecessor Majesty and Decay, whose title summarized the record perfectly. Atonement, atoning for no musical sins at least, slows down the pace and sees the band returning to their more deliberate roots. Huge, tectonic riffs rumble through entire swarms of kinetic blasting, whilst lead guitarist, Robert Vigna, ever the master of the weft and warp of guitar dissonance, twists through a multitude of tremolo riffs and screaming leads. Opener, “The Distorting Light,” epitomizes the album and, by extension, the band, by showcasing their entire bag of tricks, vacillating between discordant guitar layers and colossal, mid-paced grooves.

Interestingly, in as much as Atonement exhibits the quintessential signatures that Immolation have been plying for the better part of three decades, it also introduces a few new concepts. Instead of the overwhelming chaos infamously wrought on Close to A World Below, Atonement instead sees Vigna incorporating chord progressions of an Eastern nature in his sporadic soloing, and even utilizing some black metal inspired picking. “When the Jackals Come,”  “Thrown to the Fire” and, expressly, album closer “Epiphany” all host destructive, semi-cinematic guitar lines, spotted with fractured melodies that raise the band’s usual fare of amorphous and abrasive rhythms into deceptively memorable territory. Devastating riffs abound, but it’s not all about methodical desolation; “Rise the Heretics” and “Destructive Currents” employ vicious pacing and a furious sense of momentum compounded by Vigna’s trilling lead work. Despite the focus of the atonal guitars, I’ve always admired the band’s rhythm section for its disciplined ability to restrain, then accelerate on the head of a pin, something that drummer Steve Shalaty does with aplomb with his effortless blasting and adventurous runs.

It’s almost redundant to point out what a monolith Ross Dolan is. He sounds no different than when I first heard him thundering all over “Into Everlasting Fire” years ago. His voice remains stolid and intelligible, and although he doesn’t possess the most dexterous set of pipes in extreme metal, I’ve always felt his monotone delivery fit the calamity of the music perfectly. His vocals sit level with the guitars in what is, unsurprisingly, a fairly compressed production. Although the mix couldn’t possibly detract from the stellar material, I would have liked to have heard Dolan’s bass a little more upfront – as it is, it drowns in the cacophony, leaving Shalaty’s kick-drum to supply the low-end.

All the while, whilst listening to Atonement I kept snatching at a familiar notion in my head; an insistent element of something on each and every play-through. Eventually, I came to realize that what Immolation kept reminding me of was, in fact, Immolation themselves. A rigid sense of self resounds on this record, an identity that continuously enables the band to produce exemplary and unique death metal almost 30 years after their inception. As such, if you’re not already convinced, then this most certainly won’t be the album to change your mind. Atonement isn’t immediate; it’s esoteric and spatially awkward. But its also rich and monstrously vast, and finds the band in extraordinary form and perhaps at their most consummate. To quote the album: “Lower and lower, my soul is sinking lower,” but, by Lucifer, I fucking love it down here!

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 273 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: facebook.com/immolation
Releases Worldwide: February 24th, 2017

The post Immolation – Atonement Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

It’s quite in Dodecahedron‘s favor that the first thing that comes to mind when trying to introduce the band is the work of a philosopher they’re obviously fond of. Yet, far be it from me to play too easily into their hand, it’s not the Platonic solids I’m inspired to write of. It’s the philosopher’s views on the band’s own art form. Plato believed music to have distinct and repeatable power over the emotions; certain modes would evoke, joy, languor, sadness, or triumphant feelings. Two thousand years later, nearly all of today’s music can still be seen through a Platonic lens, reaching never too far away from the simplistic emotional categories into which Plato grouped the harmonai. Yet influential as he was, Plato missed a few types of music around the edges.

One of those missing categories: music that makes you want to vomit. Music that twists at your windpipe, turns your tongue to ash, that sucks the heat out of a room. Art that is not based on sadness or anger, but irreproachable malice. Dodecahedron make this. The Dutch black metal architects’ self-titled debut remains as unapproachable as it was when released five years ago, and the opening song, “Allfather” still brings me to physical discomfort.

Unlike Dodecahedron, Kwintessens does not put its most provocative material at the fore; Dodecahedron can afford themselves a run-up. Whatever could be said about the album’s first two songs¹ is inconsequential compared to the bleak magnificence of the third movement. “Hexahedron” completely disregards introduction, immediately lurching into the album’s first physically terrifying contrapuntal riff duo that slithers back and forth, slowly constricting the lungs. It is this album’s “Allfather,” a song simultaneously disturbing, complete, and unforgettable. The composition is immaculate, with enough repetition of that harrowing introduction to burrow it deep into the mind but remain impactful every time it’s recalled, and the ending develops slowly out of the same shapes that are present in the first moments of the piece. “Hexahedron” is as close as music comes to a genuine anxiety attack, where mortality closes in to just behind the eyes.

Just like Dodecahedron, Kwintessens‘ long-form composition is one of gradual collapse, and sounds become more alien and obtuse as the album progresses. “Tetrahedron” sounds close to a Deathspell Omega cut, but the band experiments with brighter sounds, dense sound editing and reversals of previous themes past “Hexahedron.” “Dodecahedron” uses bright leads and custom instrumentation to create an atmosphere that’s split between the heavenly and the vulgar, ending with a snap-in block of harsh noise. The incongruously placed “Finale” takes an approach that I’d most comfortably call black-metal musique concrète, and is largely a collage of droning sounds, that heavenly atmosphere, and heavily distorted vocals which presage the album’s real finale.

Kwintessens pushes the boundaries of editing in extreme metal, employing drastic chopping and rearrangement of sound, unlike any metal album I’ve heard. While other bands try to capture a live sound or gate their performances down to a grid, Dodecahedron seem to view the studio as neither a crutch nor an enemy, but as a compositional tool. The album’s vitreous, upfront tones and sharp bass are perfect for the job, but without the snap silences imposed in the studio, “Icosahedron” would not claw away quite so determinedly. Without the glass-cutter-like drones, the band could never accomplish some of these atmospheres. It strikes me that Kwintessens is almost entirely different from any album I’ve ever heard.

By moving beyond the paradigm of the “band,” Dodecahedron are producing music which possesses a scope that even their most accomplished peers, like Ulcerate and Deathspell Omega, have yet to match. This is metal with a question mark at the end of the phrase, music that doesn’t fit but creates a stark space for itself by pushing out against and tearing holes in the walls around it. Two albums in, Dodecahedron have fully established themselves as the most extreme and innovative musical group² to be pushed under the black metal umbrella. Dodecahedron and Kwintessens command attention, demand to be picked apart, and deserve to be emulated.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: dodecahedron.bandcamp.com | ddchdrn.com | facebook.com/dodecahedron
Releases Worldwide: March 17th, 2017

The post Dodecahedron – Kwintessens Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

A lone cello sings a mournful melody in a minor key. Fluttering piano touches accentuate the subtle tremolando strings. The folksy piece develops patiently, oscillating between an ambient sort of vagueness and a nervous incisiveness. While the surprising first two and a half minutes of Bavaria’s Venenum’s full-length début Trance of Death stand in contrast with the carnage that will follow, they are also perfect archetypes of the eclecticism and compositional strength of the release as a whole. “Entrance” is anything but a vanilla intro to a metal record and Venenum is anything but a run-of-the-mill death metal band.

Instead, the foursome’s style — in its core a variation on death metal — is hard to label. While there are many metal outfits that consume stylistic elements from various genres and reduce them to a jumbled mess (Between the Buried and Me, for one), Venenum craft an approach that’s neither death nor black metal while being fundamentally both and more. Fluid in their motion through different parts of the sonic spectrum, they exist in a state of eternal uncertainty, never quite settling in the tropes of any specific sub-genre. Yet, they instill a sense of cohesiveness and homogeneity throughout. The vacuum between a tremolo-driven section dominated by raspy, maleficent vocals and a slow doom throb or post-rockish plateau will thus be filled with painfully canorous leads and fiery solos. But this carousel of styles is never exhausting. And after the shocking shift from the solemn “Entrance” to the massacre of “Merging Nebular Drapes,” Trance of Death begins its true ritual dance. Blood rushes to the head as the song itself blitzes in with changes in rhythm and tempo reminiscent of Coroner, intricate riffs and progressions that somehow remain tuneful, and a slower middle section filled with faux-maudlin melody.

As the album unfurls, the cuts flow from one extreme to another. The chaos and brutal force of “The Nature of the Ground” births the andante of “Cold Threat,” only to be reawakened, thrashing, in the form of a massively propulsive bellicoso. These transitions always feel organic, as if the disparate track parts could not have been connected any other way. But the real gem and the album’s crowning point is incarnated in the notes of the poignant three-part suite “Trance of Death.” It’s a nearly half-hour long epic that unfolds from the insanity and harmonic convolution of “Part I – Reflections,” then plunges into tranquility with the contemplative and strikingly beautiful “Part II – Metanoia Journey,” and climaxes with the spiraling “Part III – There Are Other Worlds…” Within the chef-d’œuvre that is Trance of Death, this final song becomes its own microcosm. It demonstrates an almost symphonic character as it evolves, with movements filled with inspired riffing, meandering but never dull instrumental parts, and, in turns, disquieting and stirring acoustic interludes. The closing few minutes alone, led by a lingering crescendo and a consonance of instruments, conjure up a perfect storm of schmaltz and musical excellence.

Another rare feat that Trance of Death succeeds in is to be gripping and accessible from the very first listen, whilst it also provides numerous labyrinths to explore during repeated listens. The album is exquisite from beginning to end. There’s psychedelia aplenty sparkled with captivating lunacy, there is the spaced-out but complex atmosphere that brings Oranssi Pazuzu and Inquisition to mind (as their peers, not influences), and there is always a crushing, crusty aggression hidden beneath the occasional saccharine exterior. Even if the musicianship and performances of all four members are commendable, it’s the songwriting that makes this technically challenging record work so well. In that sense, I’m reminded of Skáphe, since both groups see technicality as a means to an end, a necessity of their musical vision.

Six years in the making, Trance of Death is not only Venenum’s triumph, but a near-masterpiece of (death) metal. As any great album, it threatens to influence and reshape the landscape, while it carves out a new niche. A potential future classic.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Sepulchral Voice Records
Websites: venenum.bandcamp.com | www.munenev.com
Releases Worldwide: March 17th, 2017

The post Venenum – Trance of Death Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

You know the saying about hindsight being 20/20, right? It’s easy to look back on instances in your life, and wonder what you could do to change things to make them better. To make them easier. To make them right. We reviewers go through this ourselves, looking back on prior reviews, and wondering if we overscored something that we haven’t touched since. Pallbearer‘s last album, the stellar Foundations of Burden, not only provided the soundtrack for the memories of broken promises and lost friendships, but also became my favorite album of this past decade. So needless to say, a lot is riding on Heartless, the third full-length from the Arkansas doom kings. With the same line-up intact, did Pallbearer build from their successful formula of “Funeral with a dash of hope”?

In many ways, the answer is a resounding yes. While still retaining their trademark airy doom riffs, Pallbearer incorporated some progressive rock influences into Heartless, giving their songs a nice, optimistic counterpoint to the heft and dirge. Opener “I Saw the End” beautifully exemplifies this, with the first half welcoming you back like an old friend. The guitar interplay of Brett Campbell and Devin Holt remains a pivotal focal point, drawing you in with thick riffs, and guiding you with beautiful harmonies. Halfway in, however, the song switches gears slightly, and prog rock influences emerge, giving the song an almost Mastodon feel, but still very much Pallbearer in sound and spirit. Truthfully, this change-up came unexpectedly, but still felt organic and unforced. By the end of the song, I was completely won over.

One of the other key ingredients of Pallbearer‘s entrancing sound is the voice of Brett Campbell. On their debut, Sorrow and Extinction, while his voice was shaky, it laid the groundwork to a more comfortable performance on Foundations. Here, Campbell’s voice expands and soars with absolute confidence. From 8:53-9:24 of the incredible “Dancing in Madness,” Campbell croons like a seasoned pro, sending an already beautiful song into orbit. The last couple of minutes of the Floyd-influenced heart-wrenching closer, “A Plea for Understanding” showcases his expanded range. Between the honest, heartbreaking lyrics detailing a break-up (“Behind the eyes lies a truth/So deeply concealed/Somewhere inside is a place/Where the weary rest and heal/Anger, fear, and regret keep the darkness at hand/But these feelings are real/All I ask, won’t you please understand?”), “A Plea for Understanding” tugs at your heartstrings like great doom should. The accompanying vocal harmonies by Holt and bassist Joseph D. Rowland also propel the sadness and hope forward a considerable amount, further cementing why Pallbearer lead the pack in American doom metal.

Thankfully, Heartless welcomes back the warm, organic production found on Sorrow and Extinction. Mark Lierly’s drumming sounds thunderous and clear, and Rowland’s bass presence is strongly felt and given a chance to shine. The songs breathe better, especially the airy “Lie of Survival,” giving the music color and depth. But not all of Heartless shines as brightly. “Cruel Road,” while not a bad song, has a hard rock groove in the first verse that feels largely out of place when compared to the rest of the song and album, and the title track also misses the mark a bit. But as with Foundations, they’re minor nitpicks in an otherwise stellar addition to an impeccable discography. Pallbearer incorporated some new sounds into their winning formula, and crafted a progressive doom metal masterpiece.

But how does this compare to Foundations, you may ask? Right now, I see them both as even on the battlefield, with both records edging each other out in certain areas. Foundations has the slight edge of being heavier and doomier, but Heartless has the more adventurous songwriting and the best vocals the band has recorded to date. One thing that is certain is that, once again, Pallbearer will be in my Top Ten by year’s end. And like its predecessor, I will probably regret not rating it higher. Only time will tell, but that means more time with Heartless, and I’m not complaining one bit. Neither should you.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore (North America) | Nuclear Blast (The Rest of the World)
Websites: pallbearer.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/pallbearerdoom
Releases Worldwide: March 24th, 2017

The post Pallbearer – Heartless Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Exuviae: shedding the skin. The leftover exoskeleton. Alexander von Meilenwald of The Ruins of Beverast has stripped the project bare, exposed it to new musical vistas, and transformed it into a frenetic shamanistic beast. But the exoskeleton is attached by a thread in Exuvia: faint traces of the stifling extremity of Rains Upon the Impure stain the canvas; the extreme grandeur of Foulest Semen of a Sheltered Elite weaves its splendour; and the doom-laden vastness of the haunting Blood Vaults is buried at its core. However, these are merely essences now that float and drift through Exuvia like ghosts. Though still inherently important to the music that Alexander von Meilenwald painstakingly creates, blinding new features emerge from the gloom to enhance the scope and power that The Ruins of Beverast possess in excess. Psychedelia, tribal rhythms, and electronic industrial: a trinity of peculiarity that merely extends the experimental canvas that The Ruins of Beverast work upon. How much is too much, though?

The drawling lurch of Blood Vaults has been replaced by a frenzied over-stimulation of sounds that constantly fluctuates and transforms. Exuvia is consistently unpredictable; its manic and unhinged diversity means that 67-minutes feels more like 42. For example, the three distinct stages make the 15-minute opener “Exuvia” fly by. In its ‘final’ stage – following thundering atmospheric black-metal and ominous ritualism – reprieve comes in the form a nuclear sunset: a melancholic doom vista emerges and, as if time itself has slowed down, clean vocals weep and echo as drums crawl, melodic soloing streaks above, and riffs lurch beneath. Similarly, “The Pythia’s Pale Wolves” opens conventionally doomy riff-wise, although bag-pipes, abrasive industrial screeching, and echoing Peter Steele-esque cleans merge wonderfully. As if “The Great Gig in the Sky” was swallowed up and spat out by a psychoabyssal space beast, the song warps into a female-led passage that stretches ritualistic rhythms before exploding into a closing stanza of vitriolic black-death.

Riff-wise Exuvia excels. Winding, snaking, and pulverizing riffs sear and tear through the atmospheric mulch of “Exuvia.” Continually, “Maere (On A Stillbirth’s Tomb)” is crammed with flavorsome variety. Above monstrous vocals and a huge bass tone, the rhythm guitar section surges and stings before descending into an ambient segment laced with off-kilter arpeggios and gruff growls. This in turn leads to crunching mid-paced doom that makes way for intense spurts of tremolo. Progressing further, melodic riff-patterns and solos – a common feature throughout – search through the mix and attach themselves to spectral clean-vocals and whirring electronic ambiance. “Towards Malakia,” – the most conventionally structured song on the album – possesses a more consistent crunch, although generally melodic riff patterns carry tinges of dissonance. Similarly, in “Sutur Barbaar Maritime” the guitars have a slight off-key, out-of-sync feel that enhances the song’s unsettling depth. Like Jute Gyte, TRoB experiment with key changes and odd tuning to satisfyingly discomforting effect. Rarely the guitars suffocate under the layer of sound, losing their bite,  but only rarely.

A sense of the shamanistic runs throughout the album. The incantation of primal spirits, hollow drum thumping war-dances, and ethereal rituals submerge the album in a toxic swell of over-stimulating terror. Exuvia is more experimental than anything TRoB have done before. Silences and interludes are filled with typical TRoB elements – ethereal choral reverberations, keyboard ominousness, and general ambient dread – although surreal and indecipherable electronics murmur and bubble beneath the surface. Rich layers of sounds, carefully processed and sublimated, are a core feature of Exuvia, used as central elements to songs rather than decorative flourishes. Strange screeches accompany much of “Exuvia”; abrasive power-electronics add a peculiar element to the end of “Maere”; and warped noise elements, alongside the lonesome howling of wolves, infiltrates the ending of “The Pythia’s Pale Wolves.” Closer “Takitum Tootem” (Trance)” loops tribal mantras, Burzum-esque electronic touches, modulated, space-age cleans, rabid black-metal snarls, deep death-metal growls, and crowd chants. It’s a subdued but mesmeric closer signifying the fading away of the corporeal into the ether. These experimental touches, connected by this shamanistic conceptual framework, add an immersive diversity that was missing from Blood Vaults.

The more I listen to Exuvia the more it works. Its content warrants its length; it needs the time and space to root its unique tendrils into the brain. This is exactly the album I wanted The Ruins of Beverast to release: diverse, experimental, and unsettling. An album that inhales, exhales and moves with fluency and togetherness. But most importantly its sound is anchored by rage-filled black-death-doom that hearkens back to the wonders of The Foulest Semen of a Sheltered Elite. 

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ván Records
Websites: theruinsofbeverast.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/the-ruins-Of-beverast
Releases Worldwide: May 5th, 2017

The post The Ruins of Beverast – Exuvia Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

It’s been said that “when the gods want to punish you, they answer your prayers.” I first came upon Loss and their brand of unrelenting funeral death-doom back in 2011 when Steel matched wits against the almighty Despond. Prior to this, I’d never been exposed to anything that sounded so grudgingly drawn out or so full of crushing personal failure. It mesmerized me! Not the funeral doom genre itself, but rather the arresting approach specifically promulgated by Loss. It’s been six years since Despond, and lo and behold, Loss are gifting us with a new experience aptly titled Horizonless. Though part of me prayed for a new album by the Tennessee band, a bigger part secretly hoped I’d never hear from them again. After all, what were the chances they wouldn’t become victims of the infamous sophomore slump? My prayers were answered, and after some cajoling, I gave Horizonless a listen. One part Lycus, two parts Mournful Congregation, and a dash of 40 Watt Sun (née Warning) – is Loss the hero of their own beautiful tragedy?

Continuing on from where Despond left off, Horizonless comes apart with “The Joy of All Who Sorrow.” Pounding, isolated drum-work decisively makes way for some of the most overwhelmingly tortured vocalizations I’ve yet experienced from Loss. Doing away with the expected predominance of Michael Meacham’s guttural growls, Loss instead releases John Anderson, Tim Lewis and Jay LeMaire who take regret and suffering to a dynamic new level. From the monologue fighting the bass thrum around a third in, to the gurgling black metal inspired evil spewed out in the final third of the track, Loss feel re-energized and their harmonies are as excruciating as the lyrics conveyed. This vocal variety continues on throughout the album, with the most noticeable high-points being the cleans supplied by Tim Lewis in the title track followed by the guest vocals of Wrest (Leviathan), Stevie Floyd and Billy Anderson (sound engineer and producer for everybody from Agalloch to Pallbearer) on “When Death Is All.”

As with Despond, Horizonless features a variety of song lengths that work hand-in-hand to make an otherwise overwhelming album seem somehow more palatable. “I.O” and “Moved Beyond Murder,” are the shortest tracks here, and though they could easily be throwaways if used within another project, on Horizonless each has a specific and contrasting role. Dominating “I.O” are the soprano pickings of a mandolin, cutting through oppression with it’s femininity, Jay LeMaire charms the instrument, coaxing out a sense of spontaneity, vulnerability and radiance that would be tough to replicate with a more traditional instrument. “Moved Beyond Murder” takes the opposite path – here Michael Meacham uses an analogue synthesizer, bell and chants in much the same way as Caïna would, conveying focus and a chilling lack of emotion. Meacham’s unrelenting sincerity only serves to leave lines like “oh what I wouldn’t give to drag a knife across your throat” buried like a blade deep into your subconscious.

The remainder of Horizonless, drags along mostly at a glacial pace, with Loss‘ core influences (Mournful Congregation and Warning) at heart, and a steady eye on avoiding stagnation. Cavernous growls, dense fuzzed-out riffing and exaggerated drum lines are the nuts and bolts of Loss. The moments that really ended up staying with me, and having the biggest impact, are where Loss bend the rules – tactfully injecting the melody of In Mourning, sinking into the doldrums occupied by Eudaimony and Deadspace (“Naught”), or picking apart the resonance of Ulver (“When Death Is All”).

Horizonless proved itself a multi-dimensional construct, showcasing a unique blend of melodic harmony, bleak contrast and grinding torment, and from a sonic standpoint, Billy Anderson worked the production to play to each one of the band’s strengths. This album leaves you feeling that Horizonless finds Loss more at home in their own skin, and other than perhaps rethinking the overwhelming 65-minute length of the album, there’s nothing I would encourage Loss to change or approach differently.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore Records
Websites: Loss.bandcamp.com | lossdoom.blogspot.com | facebook.com/lossdoom
Releases Worldwide: May 19th, 2017

The post Loss – Horizonless Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

In an administrative oversight that’s a combination of letting the lunatics run the asylum, a fat kid choose his diet in a chocolate factory, and an AA experiment where everyone is told to drink themselves sober, our trusted leaders at AMG have, for some reason that will forever remain in the abyss of the unknown, decided it was a good idea to let yours truly review Alestorm’s latest. For those unaware, it’s called No Grave but the Sea, and is the follow-up to the masterful, magisterial, and award-winning Sunset on the Golden Age. Spoiler: it’s fantastic, and I’m writing this, in the true spirit of Alestorm, solely while under the influence. As such, this may be the last you’ll ever hear from old Diabolus, so I sincerely wish all of you the best. May your hearts overflow with joy and cups overflow with mead.

While just writing “orgasmic” is a lot easier than describing Alestorm’s sound in the flowery prose required – nay, demanded – of me, I’m not (not) paid the big bucks to be a hack. Alestorm, especially here and on Sunset, have truly become a folk metal band. They sound like a competent metal band covering a bunch of great folk songs, but they’re all originals. Unlike the Pop Goes Punk series, where there are twice as many misses as hits on the best day, all of Alestorm’s folk songs are meticulously tailored to their metal accoutrements, making for a scintillating combination of the two genres with folk as the base and metal as the special sauce. This is simply fun-loving, apolitical, and downright celebratory music made for everyone to enjoy. Unlike the usually motivational Hatebreed’s moronic turn towards socialism and the soporific pretensions of “smart” bands like The Faceless, this is joyful music to bring new and old friends together in fun and familiarity, albeit in a more effective sense than the pop culture reference carpet bombing of newer Fall Out Boy.

It’s impossible to pick a favourite here, because Alestorm have gone and crafted a near-perfect record again. “Mexico” isn’t leaving anyone’s head for a long time, and the beautiful camaraderie of “Rage of the Pentahook” will surely warm the heart of anyone with friends. The title track is an energetic and catchy opener that’s new and exciting yet still immediately familiar; upon first hearing it, I found myself singing the chorus the second time it rolled around as if I’d known the song for years. “Alestorm” is a great song in the mold of Sunset’s “Drink,” gleefully diving full bore into the raucous party vibe that Alestorm’s tremendous live shows are made of. Like Sunset, No Grave is sequenced brilliantly: “Alestorm” is followed by the “Wild Rover”-inspired “Bar und Ibiss,” which slows things down a bit at the perfect time. “Man the Pumps” is essentially “Pirate Song” 2.0, which is fine because that song was stupendous the first time around and Alestorm’s songwriting has improved immensely since Black Sails at Midnight.

Like the venerated, vivacious, and velvety voice of Jorn, there is nothing to gripe about here so I’ll just continue saying nice things about No Grave but the Sea. If you like ridiculous drinking songs, “Pegleg Potion” brings the most absurd recipe to the bar I’ve ever heard over an incredibly catchy and coherent instrumental. The only downside is that unlike Tech N9ne’s legendary “Caribou Lou,” you can’t actually make the drink yourself. “Treasure Island” takes up the mantle as a closing epic in the vein of Sunset’s title track, managing its time a bit more effectively but toning down the bombast a wee bit. Its sombre acoustic outro ends No Grave on a well-earned emotional note, their best ode to the more mournful side of folk on the record.

Like DJ Khaled, Ludacris, Rick Ross, T-Pain, and Snoop Dogg, all Alestorm does is win. Given where this stands next to Sunset (essentially right beside it), Alestorm have probably gone and made the Record o’ the Year once again, crafting a collection of unforgettable tunes that are endlessly enjoyable and spectacularly written as to never get old. Eliot Vernon’s keyboards once again compliment the songs in a huge way, adding a layer of depth to the compositions of keytarist/vocalist Chris Bowes, who has improved his singing voice once again and made the tunes here even better. Production is big, loud, and clear, which suits the music perfectly.

If you’re tired of politicization, pretension, polarization, and vapidity, crack a beer and throw on No Grave but the Sea. I felt like Madonna in the not repugnant and decrepit sense: every listen was just as fresh as the first time. If I’m somehow not canned by year’s end, expect this to be number one on my list.¹

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: alestorm.net | facebook.com/alestormband
Releases Worldwide: May 26th, 2017

The post Alestorm – No Grave but the Sea Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Every so often, an album comes out of nowhere and truck sticks you into next Tuesday. Elder’s 2015 opus Lore did that for me. Their complex brand of New England stoner metal featured the right amount of proggy psych stylings to land in my personal Top Ten.¹ Lore has been a constant friend these last two years, and I expected that topping it would be tough, given its lofty heights and incredible riffcraft. Leave it to Reflections of a Floating World to prove me so incredibly wrong.

Relative stagnation held Lore back, resulting in an album a tad too long for its own good. If Reflections were to top Lore, I thought naively, it would require tamping down the material into a tighter package. Good thing Elder didn’t ask my opinion, because Reflections improves on Lore in every way and clocks in five minutes longer. Whereas its predecessor crunched and bit and grooved, Reflections just… flows. Songs often feature several distinct movements, their progressive trappings defying structure without feeling aimless. Opener “Sanctuary” eases the listener in via these familiar waters. Its crunchy Pallbearer doom is as close as we will come to a consistent connection with the past. Elder’s amorphous riff evolutions return, but, like an old pro, now require less space and time to succeed. Nick DiSalvo’s vocals drop out for long stretches, heightening the impact of the fluid instrumentation. Nothing feels recycled, no moment wasted as “Sanctuary” unfurls. The quintet guides you through soulful solos and anxious shreds and a permanent brightness as the track shifts and shifts and shifts again.

Following an elongated warm-up, “The Falling Veil” sees Elder’s incandescent riffing tilt toward Baroness. While Reflections succeeds in part because of these long-winded spindles, I cannot shake the feeling that occasions like the aforementioned warm-up could be shortened or excised without the album losing too much. The Kyuss-inspired “Staving Off Truth” suffers no such problem. The success of its introductory breeziness, ephemeral and brief, is matched only by the album-highlight build on its back half. However, Reflections’ main draw lies in its progressive exploration, with “Blind” glittering as Elder’s crown jewel. The track bounces between moments of forced recall as diverse as The Smiths and Nirvana, but always engendered with the weight of Sleep and an ethereal keyboard undercurrent. Its constant exploration and progression tickle my music sensibilities in places I didn’t even know I had.

Follow-up “Sonntag” spends most of its time in the underground, accompanied by a buzzing bass and staccato electronic beats, puzzled by the ever-ascending nature of its own existence. Over the course of eight minutes, the track slowly builds upon the quiet space that Elder usually deploys to manage potential pacing issues. Conversely, “Thousand Hands” closes the album with a track that is, dare I say, straightforward. Evoking Kvelertak, it amps Reflections’ brightness up to 11 and meshes stoner metal and poppy chord nuggets into utter replayability. The direction plays off the forever-build of “Sonntag” so well that one of my only gripes with the record is a desire to see “Sonntag” launch right into “Thousand Hands,” rather than fade to black.

Recognizing the difficulties in orchestrating their multi-faceted masterpiece, Elder welcomed new member Mike Risberg and session musician Mike Samos on to flesh the record out with additional layers of guitars, keys, and pedal steel. The individual performances are a tour-de-force, often perfectly balanced with no noticeable sore spots. DiSanto knows just where to toe the line to let his voice do its work without infringing on his expanding galaxy of riffs. However, his timbre occasionally finds itself at odds with the course of the music and could use more punch in some areas. Likewise, the production on the quiet end is excellent – essential given how much time is spent down there – but Reflections’ peaks could use some of that same spacious touch.

Typically, my album notes quickly hit aspects of each song – style, placement, moments worth mention – twenty-five words tops, just enough to ease the writing process. The word count for Reflections’ entry checks in at 165… for the first track. That alone should demonstrate both how smitten I am with this act and how much Elder brings to the table. This is the rare album where every single listen has something new in store, something bold and worthy of admiration. As far as I’m concerned, Reflections of a Floating World is 2017’s pace-setter. Everyone else better get in line.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: EU: Stickman Records | NA: Armageddon Label
Websites: beholdtheelder.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/elderofficial
Releases Worldwide: June 2nd, 2017

The post Elder – Reflections of a Floating World Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

We all travel through various phases in life. For example, Younger Me was all about the extreme side of metal. It didn’t matter the quality, as long as it was fast, loud, and brutally heavy. As I grew older, I sold many of those albums because, to put it bluntly, they lacked in many areas. Some of them had shit production jobs, while others had piss-poor vocals. What they all had in common was the lack of one key ingredient: The Hook™. It doesn’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that musical, rhythmic, melodic swing, baby. So with that in mind, I grabbed Radiation, the sixth full-length from Swiss post-metallers Impure Wilhelmina on a blind whim, having never heard a note from them prior. Only bad things can happen, right?

Except you would be wrong. Oh so very, very wrong. From their one-sheet, Radiation is described as being inspired by modern-day Katatonia, and that is a good, if not completely accurate, template of their sound. Sure, atonal melodies dart and weave in and out like a seasoned prize fighter in “Great Falls Beyond Death” and “Torn.” But what the bio neglects to add is that there’s a bit of an indie rock touch in the structures and climaxes, with the one key influence springing to mind is The Smiths and a maybe a touch of Failure. I know, I know, but hear me out; rather than pull the band away from the heft and power of the riffs, these hooks enhance the songs to ridiculous levels of memorability and replayability.

The reason for this is found in the velvety vocals of guitarist and founder Michael Schindl. His voice is equal parts Jonas Renkse (Katatonia) and a less melodramatic Morrissey, and it propels the music to lofty heights. His soft, somber timber at the end of “Meaningless Memories” is at once beautiful and heartbreaking, especially when it’s draped over a touching guitar melody. Elsewhere, Schindl adopts a powerful shout during the chorus of “Murderers,” turning the song into a Katatonia-gone-Isis (the band, ninny) power trip. But easily the biggest stand-out (and in the running for my Song o’ the Year pick) goes to “Bones and Heart,” where the marriage of clever riffs by Schindl and fellow guitarist Diogo Almeida and a chorus (“There’s so much pain to stay here with you/Too much pain to live with you”) that’s impossible to not sing along to leads to a song that you can’t help but repeat over and over.

Adding to the replayability factor of Radiation is the construction of the songs themselves. At first listen, they all sound well-constructed with great hooks and tremendous vocals. Further listens uncover nuances and layers that weren’t fully revealed at first. The production, helmed by Serge Morattel and Raphaël Bovey, can be both thanked and blamed for that. While capturing the band’s moods and power (especially Mario Togni’s drumming), they also relegate Sebastien Dutruel’s bass to background status, making its appearance limited to the choruses. Also, during the middle of closer “Race With You,” the heavier parts become a bit noisy, even at lower volumes. That said, if you can power through it, the rewards are more than satisfying.

I went into Radiation expecting more post-rock boredom, and came away with an album that’s neck-and-neck with the new Pallbearer as my Album of the Year. With the new Tau Cross on the horizon as well, July’s quickly turning into a month of quality post-rock, post-metal, post-whatthefuckever, and Impure Wilhelmina definitely caught my attention (and soul) with Radiation. Younger Me would have shit a plutonium brick at this selection, but Older Me is over-the-moon enthralled with it. Give this time and patience and you will be, too.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: impurenet.com | facebook.com/impurewilhelmina
Releases Worldwide: July 7th, 2017

The post Impure Wilhelmina – Radiation Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

With every .zip and .rar file that a reviewer opens comes a whiff of hope. Usually, that hope is merely that a freshly delivered promo isn’t actually a steaming pile; as any contributor to AMG Blogworks and Unicorn Photoshops Incorporated would tell you, that’s pretty much a fifty-fifty shot. With Lör, though, that hope grew into something more. Maybe it was the strange appearance of an unsigned progressive power metal band from Philadelphia of all places (or maybe it was Lör’s use of the most sacred of all metal naming conventions, the umlaut) that drew me to it, but I instantly reserved In Forgotten Sleep when it popped up in our promo queue. A totally unjustifiable anticipation grew in the back of my mind in the weeks leading up to my acquisition of the album; whether it was intuition or sheer dumb luck, my curiosity paid off in spades. Calling this unsigned debut a surprise would be a severe understatement.

Lör reminds me of another North American prog/power/folk hybrid called Viathyn in their execution. Yet unlike Viathyn, who I always found a bit too emotionally anemic to fully embrace, Lör packs emotional depth and breadth. Adventurous, grand-scale keyboard theatrics, thrashing power metal adrenaline, and Wilderun-esque melancholy are all on display, but what immediately made me fall in love with In Forgotten Sleep lies in the way these themes carefully and at times brilliantly coexist in the context of a single song. Lör effortlessly adapts their motifs to fit a variety of moods; a wistful, bittersweet melody in a song’s introduction can, with careful modifications, prove to be just as useful serving as the main hook of a triumphant climax. The band’s penchant for lengthy compositions lends this sonic evolution impressive legs, and unlike many progressive bands, Lör possesses the songwriting and thematic tact required to sustain the longer tracks’ mammoth structuring.

Lör’s epics offer much more in the way of listener engagement than smart construction, impressive though their songwriting chops certainly are. The roads to their delayed payoffs are paved with instant gratification, both melodically and instrumentally speaking; galloping riffs and drum patterns surge forward with thrashing, kinetic energy, while immense choruses offer cathartic peaks without stooping to Disney levels of cornball melodiousness. Indeed, In Forgotten Sleep is defined by its individual successes as much as its long-form victories, with passages like the unconventional acoustic shredding in “Visions of Awakening” and the infectious tempo hike that kicks “Dusk” into speed metal mode, offering two prime examples in a record overflowing with memorable moments. The latter song, which is both IFS’s lengthiest piece and the introductory track, is smartly followed up by the short-and-sweet “Dark Cloud.” A quick blast of Euro-power that echoes Sonata Arctica’s “Kingdom for a Heart” in its arpeggiated leads, it handily serves as an exhibition of Lör’s flexibility in succeeding through short-form material.

A record as unique and nuanced as In Forgotten Sleep practically demands proper production, and while it’s not perfect from an engineering standpoint, I find its sound absolutely charming. The drums pop with crisp, percussive force, the guitars carry warm tones that lend the leads a downright bluesy feel, and the bass is plenty beefy without ever feeling drowned out by the lush, colorful array of keyboard effects. I’m not in love with the level of reverb placed on the vocals as it becomes distracting during IFS’s more introspective moments, but Tyler Fedeli proves himself an admirable frontman nonetheless. Though not the most technically impressive singer, he handles Lör’s dynamic nature with aplomb, offering somber, soft-spoken musings and dramatic expulsions with an unpretentious singing style that makes him an excellent spokesperson for the band. The musicianship gets top marks all around, but Peter Hraur deserves special attention for actually making me give a shit about guitar solos in power metal. His loose, almost improvisational style is executed with a spontaneous feel without ever sacrificing technical showmanship or neglecting Lör’s folk leanings.

I worry that I’ve somehow undersold what Lör has accomplished with this debut. There’s so much I want to gush over that I haven’t even touched on yet; I haven’t brought up the trace elements of death and black metal that can crop up, or even some of my favorite cuts (chiefly “Eidolon” and “Spectrum”). But make no mistake; In Forgotten Sleep is a remarkable record in every aspect, one of the only works in my collection that can justify every second of a seventy-minute run-time, and indisputably my favorite album of the year thus far. Whether Lör can keep up this momentum has yet to be seen, but In Forgotten Sleep already feels like an underground classic in the making.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 160 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: halloflor.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/lorofficial
Releases Worldwide: August 11th, 2017

The post Lör – In Forgotten Sleep Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

I created my moniker out of a weird obsession with Akercocke. A close friend and I would muse over the lyrical and conceptual themes from Goat of Mendes, watch videos of the band being interviewed by Irish religious nuts, and generally make long-winded jokes over Jason Mendonca’s LinkedIn profile and his love for tweed and sophisticated exhibitionism. Beneath this was a love for the eclectic and unique extreme music that Akercocke crafted. Personally, their more progressive and experimental later releases stuck with me the most. In 2007 the London-based band disbanded, leaving behind an incredible discography. Now they’re back, ten years later, with their sixth album: Renaissance in Extremis. Mendonca and co. have discarded their tweed suits in favor of turtle necks and smart caps, discarded long curly hair and twisty mustaches for serious buzz cuts and stubble, and completely discarded – most shockingly – their sophisticated Satanism in favor of a more human focus on the harsh realities of day-to-day existence.  What does this mean for the band? Have they sold out? Is this Akercocke’s St. Anger?

Renaissance In Extremis ramps up the experimental tendencies of Antichrist tenfold. It’s still extreme and certainly still Akercocke, yet their sound is channeled down vastly different avenues. It’s an eclectic melting pot of everything with a few ingredients standing out and showboating with typical panache and pomp. Technical thrash permeates the album, as do heavy doses of prog-rock, virtuouso guitar playing, and electronic gothica. Is it focused on one thing? No. Is it sloppy? Certainly not. Somehow Akercocke manage to integrate these elements with excellence.

Opener “Disappear” is a strong example of these merging features. The frilly licks and hyper-speed riffing of the opening look back to the late 80s before the bass-heavy noodling that Akercocke have mastered switches views to technical vistas. Then, time warping, we’re dragged into the realm of atmospheric gothica, reminiscent of “Leviathan,” as Mendonca sweetly croons above subtle interweaving melodies. Sweeps and mid-paced progressions slot courageously between these moments, jostling for space, before a death-metal Iron Maiden gallop sends the song to its end. It’s flamboyant, unrestrained, and pure Akercocke at their creative apex. This might rub some the wrong way; the wild and wacky nature of their sound – crowned by Jason Mendonca’s schizophrenic vocals, sometimes daft and off-putting, at other times powerful and dreamy – is an acquired taste. Much of the album follows this playful yet dark vibe. “Unbound By Sin” and “First To Leave The Funeral” are funhouses of technical and malevolent riffs, tasty sweeping solos, writhing mid-tones, scrumptious bass lines, and a furious looseness that sounds like jazz-fusion crushed in the pestle and mortar of a death-metal necromancer.

There are more than a handful of moments different from anything Akercocke have released before. The guitar melodies of “Insentience” spiral off one another with bombast, almost sounding like something from a Plini record. “Familiar Ghosts” is pure Akercocke dipped in freshness, encompassing violins, glitching electronic pulses, and sensual grooves aplenty. Four minutes in and the song transitions into what sounds like a futuristic drug-fueled nightmare where the main characters watch a hyper-death Voivod in ultra-neon. “One Chapter Closing For Another To Begin” is a sexy and strange wash  of atmospheric tremolo broken up by sections of wobbling  James Maynard Keenan-esque pensiveness. Mendonca’s cleans sound better than ever, a syrupy continuation of Antichrists’ sound, and his blackened snarls and rasps offer the ideal offset to this smoothness. However, the blackened snarls make a rarer appearance here, replaced instead by a bombastic and melodramatic shout that’s somewhat of a distracting drawback.

Each member shines through the record. Almost every performance is stand-out, virtuoso almost, even by Akercocke’s outrageous standards. Guitarist Paul Scanlan, returning following his departure after 2003’s Chronozon, nestles neatly next to expressive new bassist Nathanael Underwood and Voices drum maestro David Gray. Nothing demonstrates the tightness of the band like final track “A Particularly Cold September,” nearly ten-minutes of 70s-esque progressive rock and extreme metal. It’s the crowning glory of the album, floating through elements of acoustic Opeth, bittersweet Porcupine Tree, trumpet-laden King Crimson, and Devin Townsend heart wrenching grandeur.

I wanted Renaissance In Extremis to be as outrageous and creative as possible. It is. Some may miss the Satanism and the tighter black-metal crunch of Words That Go Unspoken and Chronozon, the Morbid Angel-isms of The Goat of Mendes and Rape Of The Bastard Nazarene, but I don’t. Some might say it’s too loose, lacks a conciseness and focus, and runs for too long. I’m outraged by these hypothetical complaints! I’ve listened to the album a lot, taking a day off to let the record stew, and it still excites me. Akercocke have retained their trademark sound yet managed to hone it and fire it through fresh vistas. With a wonderful production to boot – clear, crisp, and deep yet never plastic or too clean – Akercocke have hit gold. Renaissance In Extremis is fun and diverse whilst still being pensive and beautifully touching.

Rating: 4.5/5
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Peaceville Records
Websites: facebook.com/akercockeofficial
Releases Worldwide: August 25th, 2017

The post Akercocke – Renaissance In Extremis Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Ardor, the third full-length by Montrealers BIG|BRAVE opens with a sustained, unending riff. As it reverberates eerily, it suggests that the trio picked up right where they left off with their sophomore release Au De La, veering even further into fields of textures and sparse instrumentation. Their signature sound is a combination of elements from multiple genres and idioms, from post-rock to drone, shaped into an experimental, caustic, and often hermetic concoction. But as that deceivingly eternal riff’s life abruptly ends, the void it leaves behind is filled with a massive groove. Full of immensely heavy guitars and striking yet bulbous drums, it starts and stops, starts and stops… while Robin Wattie’s vocals pierce its veil. And just like that, BIG|BRAVE explore another fork in their sound.

Even if palpably different, Ardor’s heritage from Au De La and Feral Verdure is obvious. The concentrated heaviness and gravitas that were represented only through certain segments on those albums, are expanded and worshipped here. Ardor is carried by three lengthy songs – all of them over ten minutes long – that are impressively focused and flow with stable, increasingly overpowering and oppressive inner rhythms. “Sound,” the introductory cut, maintains its initial stop-motion trudge, full-bodied sonic impact, and textural complexity throughout, as a shrieking, distorted violin (courtesy of Jessica Moss from Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra) and Wattie’s vocals dance defiantly, unburdened and unbound. The track’s inherent tension never explodes and, instead, fizzles out into an equally rewarding, Sunn O))) inspired, drumless roar and drone. It’s a fascinating tune, one rich in textures, rhythm – propelled by Louis-Alexandre Beauregard nimble but wrecking drumming – and lusciously discordant riffs.

“Lull” is both a logical continuation of “Sound” and a striking divergence. It buzzes and drones into being, only for Wattie to unfold her powerful, cynical, and, at times, enraged voice over the aggressive background. Her delivery is nuanced and felt, almost thespian as it cuts and soars, occasionally joined by a comparatively subdued Beauregard. This is music meant for some devilish, smoke-laden night club in David Lynch’s world. A bluesy piece that evokes the seeping darkness of Bohren & der Club of Gore’s doom jazz. This punishing atmosphere breaks down in the cut’s final part, as the violin takes the lead and transgresses into or slowly builds up to a progressively intense chasm. The final transition, into “Borer,” is abrupt yet essential as it brings another slight twist in style. What starts with solitary thuds and wobbly riffs soon bursts into a doom-drone march. Here BIG|BRAVE show just what kind of a grand, dynamic sound they kept restrained, and release it into a heavenly crushing spiral.

“I am immune and I am protected,” Wattie repeatedly groans while traversing the piece’s mellow marrow part, trying to convince herself or us of her words while imbuing “Borer” with Current 93 overtones and derangement. During the song’s and album’s closing minutes, Wattie’s voice disappears as the counterpoint of riffs and sparse drums continues to grind and destroy until it brings everything to a stop. For this form of music to function well, the sound had to be compact, revealing of all the layers and interplay while simultaneously fuzzy, dusky, and disorienting. And that’s exactly what Jerusalem in My Heart’s Radwan Ghazi Moumneh, who recorded and mixed the record, delivers. With two guitars, drums, and a violin, BIG|BRAVE manage to create an imposing sound that pulls the listener in like the universe’s most beautiful black hole. And at its center lay Wattie’s vocals, emphatic and unique, only superficially similar to Julie Christmas, Kathleen Hanna, Björk, or Jarboe.

As a whole, Ardor is one of the most haunting and elegant, frightening and calming pieces of art I’ve encountered this year. In the end, there are no words that can properly capture its expansiveness, wild beauty, and enduring emotional impact. So go and listen.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 160 kbps mp3
Label: Southern Lord Records
Websites: bigbrave.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/bigbrave
Releases Worldwide: Sepember 15th, 2017

The post BIG|BRAVE – Ardor Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Chelsea Wolfe’s profile has continued to rise, navigating her edgy and adventurous songwriting to a dizzying apex of startling creativity and emotional resonance. 2015’s harrowing Abyss album increased Wolfe’s recognition on a wider scale in a stunning turn of events, bolstering an already impressive body of work. Crippling in its emotional power, challenging but strangely addicting, Abyss also found Wolfe embracing her metallic inclinations in exciting, multi-faceted ways. With expectations sky high after the mesmerizing Abyss, Wolfe returns with her highly anticipated sixth opus, Hiss Spun. One of Chelsea Wolfe’s key strengths as an artist lies in her ability to continually evolve and reinvent herself. Familiar strands tie her works together, but she is not in the game of repeating herself, as Hiss Spun firmly attests. Hiss Spun finds Wolfe embracing doom wholeheartedly, pushing back the much stronger industrial and electronic overtones from Abyss, without abandoning these attributes, and shifting the thick wall of guitars and distortion up front.

Wolfe’s song-writing refuses to be pushed into a corner or become hindered by genre constraints. She cohesively blends her Gothic songbird style with elements of grungy, downbeat alternative rock, darkly ominous folk hymns, electronica, drone, industrial, and a prominent doom influence, spinning her eclectic musical tastes into a rich tapestry that bleeds emotion and makes an art of soft-loud dynamics. Wolfe remains a sorceress of conjuring up a myriad of emotions in the listener. A simple melody or vocal can shift from fragile to fierce, vulnerability giving way to confidence and powerful self-assurance, anger to sadness, hostility to tenderness. While other singers may boast a stronger range, Wolfe’s vocals are wonderfully expressive and unique, her subtle variations and raw emotion compensating for any range limitations. After the reedy, slow-burning thrum of “Spun,” featuring captivating leads and an ominous tone, “16 Psyche” grinds away before anthemic guitars as an energy rise lifts the chorus into earworm levels of addictive heavy rock bliss. The song features Wolfe taking a more accessible song-writing turn and comes across as reasonably uplifting by her melancholic standards, despite the dreary overall tone. Consistency has marked Wolfe’s career, over the past few albums in particular, and though Hiss Spun has its dizzying peaks, it never disengages or loses focus.

“Vex” skates along on an infectious drum beat and gripping vocal from Wolfe, before Aaron Turner’s (Isis, Old Man Gloom) deep roar raises the intensity and hits with surprising effectiveness. Wolfe’s music may be blanketed in darkness and melancholy, but Hiss Spun has a few lighter touches and is both cathartic and addictive, rather than a depressing listening experience. A strong front-half notwithstanding, Hiss Spun really excels during a cluster of songs around its potent midsection. Part industrial drone, part doomy rock beast, with tension raising quiet segments floating in-between, “The Culling” is an exquisite jam that’s difficult to shake. Similarly, “Twin Fawn” features sparse, spine-tingling verses before unleashing the surging Mother of all choruses, as crushing guitars thunder in and shake the foundations. Always one to keep the listener guessing, Wolfe changes gears expertly with the catchy darkwave of “Offering,” showing her hand at crafting pop-infected gems in a similar fashion to her work on 2013’s Pain is Beauty album.

Not content to go out quietly, Wolfe saves the excellent “Scrape” for last, a song featuring burning intensity and a truly wonderful vocal performance, Wolfe sounds volatile and desperate in almost equal measure, swirling around pounding percussion and grinding guitars. Hiss Spun has a more organic sound compared to the harsher, in-your-face production on Abyss, creating a breathable and slightly more dynamic space. Wolfe’s ghostly voice drifts effortlessly through the wall of distortion, constantly demanding attention beyond the dense, always interesting layers of the musical backdrop. The tone of the instruments is excellent, especially the fuzz-drenched, authoritative bluster of Wolfe and Troy Van Leeuwen’s (A Perfect Circle, Queens of the Stone Age, Failure) menacing guitars, retaining strong clarity and a tough, unvarnished grit.

Abyss was such a remarkable album that the only slight I can really aim against Hiss Spun is it doesn’t quite outmatch its predecessor, despite coming very close. Regardless, Hiss Spun is yet another outstanding album from Wolfe; a challenging, deeply emotive piece of art that also features some of her most accessible work, cranking up the doom and rock-based factors without losing an ounce of her forward-thinking progression, songwriting experimentation, and intelligent artistry that has defined her stellar career. There’s no doubt in my mind, Hiss Spun is one of 2017’s unmissable albums.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Sargent House
Websites: chelseawolfe.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cchelseawwolfe
Releases Worldwide: September 22nd, 2017

The post Chelsea Wolfe – Hiss Spun Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

“I am convinced,” Nietzche wrote, “that art represents the highest task and the truly metaphysical activity of this life.” Though he wrote this in a preface to his first work, The Birth of Tragedy, he was certainly not referring only to the written word — an art that few can claim more ownership of than him. That preface was written by none other than Richard Wagner, and though Nietzche would sour on him later in life, this profound appreciation for art in a broad sense would not end. The love of aesthetic creation, the belief in its power to affect the heart and erode human differences, is the very core of In Contact, a starry-skied series of extended vignettes on love and revolution, passion and loss, fragility and courage, rain-soaked in the joy of creation.

In Contact plots a far-sighted course from the beginning, curving and spiraling through a storybook landscape of alternative rock, metal, and prog, off the beaten path yet ever pressing fearlessly forward. The weight against which all such albums are judged is Fair to Midland‘s swansong, Arrows and Anchors: a short-haired tornado, whipped up in tears poured out to a bout of equal parts whisky and ritalin. Based only on previous work from Caligula’s Horse, there was no immediate suggestion of In Contact equaling such a masterpiece – I expected only another fun, memorable flourish like Bloom. But with each listen I’ve grown to appreciate this incredibly ambitious, startlingly successful love letter to beauty and compassion even more.

The intertwined narratives of the album, of love, art, and resistance, are laid bare in the dramatic spoken word of “Inertia and the Weapon of the Wall,” but all make recurring surges towards the fore. The bleary-eyed croon of “Capulet” breathes a sigh of devotion across warm organs and a gentile guitar, while “The Hands Are the Hardest¹” springs into life cast by a Haken-esque muse. There’s a distinct sound and energy to every song of In Contact, and each piece seems vital – both necessary and alive. But of course there are standouts — the most spectacular of which is the album’s centerpiece “Songs for No One.” The song is every bit a continuation of the sound from Bloom – and it has been perfected. The playful rhythms, angular guitar leads and unforgettable chorus all point towards an undisputed ‘song of the year.’

The passion with which these songs were written shines through in the performances, and the band gives the impression that they went in the studio completely enamored with their material. Sam Vallen’s guitar solos and leads have a sense of exuberance and Josh Griffin’s drumming is equal parts power and joy. But of course, stunningly passionate lyrical delivery from Jim Grey could make you forget all about them. The man’s voice seems categorically captivating and his storytelling binds together a disparate set of stories united, as he says we all are, by their reach. By repeating phrases and themes, he ties songs together into the separate bundles that constitute In Contact‘s four chapters.

Even more spectacular than its melodies or exemplary performances is the sheer humanity of In Contact. It seems to catch every stray sunbeam reflected off of the surface of life and savor their light. Surely we are living in the decaying world of What Passes for Survival, but beyond cognizance and resistance, how can we answer those terrors of life? To put it in a more directly Nietzschean context, what are we to do in a broken world with a dead god? In Contact answers, with all the authority it can muster: love! create! share! sing! It is all any of us can do, and if that seems no solution, even the most resolutely negative among us perhaps will perhaps reconsider when prompted by Freddy himself:

“You oughta learn to laugh, my young friends, if you are hell-bent on remaining pessimists.”

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Inside Out Music
Websites: caligulashorse.com | facebook.com/caligulashorse
Releases Worldwide: September 22nd, 2017

The post Caligula’s Horse – In Contact Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The Black Dahlia Murder is without a doubt a Top 5 band for me. I honestly don’t know when it happened. When I started listening to them I never considered them to be that special, they were head and shoulders over the melodeath glut that was being puked out in the early 2000s, but a Top 5 favorite band? I didn’t see that coming. Still, they always had workmanlike consistency and solid writing that I admired. With time, however, their albums have stuck to my playlist. When I was bored with new music, I would throw on Miasma or Nocturnal; good, solid, addictive songs with great playing and intensity. Albums like Miasma and Unhallowed were albums I loved, but it was around Ritual that these Detroit natives hit the next level going from great to excellent. Adding Ryan Knight—who unfortunately left the band prior to the recording of Nightbringers—was an incredible addition to the band. With their game elevated, they crafted the platonic ideal of modern melodic death metal: fast with sick riffs, amazing solos and refined compositions that even TBDM hadn’t exhibited earlier in their career.

The operative question, then, was “What will Nightbringers be?” At first blush, it reminded me of Miasma more than any record since. While it thankfully doesn’t share the production, it is a short, brutish affair, packed with Alan Cassidy’s ball-crushing blasts, Trevor Strnad’s trademark alternating screams and growls, and more trem-picked melodic leads from Eschbach and new kid Brandon Ellis than you can shake a an inverted cross at. There’s a relentless feel to Nightbringers which differentiates it from its predecessors. The whole thing clocks in at a remarkably speedy 33 minutes, which is a perfect ADHD-sized bite for an Angry Metal Guy with a lot on his mind and a dwindling stash of Adderrall.

As is their way, The Black Dahlia Murder drops riff after riff after riff upon the listener. Nightbringers features some of the sharpest riffs in the band’s career. The opening trems on “As Good as Dead” rip fiercely, while closer “The Lonely Deceased” features an Amon Amarth opening so sharp that it will make the Viking warriors check their war chest to see if they were raided by a raging horde of Detroitians (Detroitites? Detroitans? Detroitistas?¹). Hat-tipping Miasma, the album’s epic closer “The Lonely Dead” even features a borderline black metal blast that’s hard not to love.

It’s cool to hear the kind of intensity that you don’t expect of a band on its 8th release. While Nightbringers walks some familiar paths—the sound is definitely classic The Black Dahlia Murder—it’s surprisingly fresh. Be it “King of the Nightworlds,” which features a medieval jig-worthy melody that I’ve been whistling for weeks, or the opener “Widowmaker” which evokes the band’s earliest albums in composition and performance, Nightbringers is an intense, brutal ride that demonstrates what pros these guys are. This album is tight, fast, blasty and polished. But because of the perfect balance sharp riffs, gonzo intensity, and just enough dynamics to keep listeners on their toes, the pieces just seem to fall into place.

The album’s biggest problem is that after Everblack and Ritual, Nightbringers has a sound that feels a bit passé. While no one performs this sound better than The Black Dahlia Murder, their foregoing records saw them challenging their compositions and playing in ways that I think went underrated by the metal scene. Knight’s loss looms over the album, particularly on solos where his genuine virtuosity is irreplaceable. While Brandon Ellis is a great player who is more than capable of shredding, his solos are not the pure, outside-the-box art that I have come to associate with TBDM’s most recent work. This isn’t an indictment of Nightbringers; this material is first-class melodeath and a worthy addition to the band’s discography. I just can’t help but feel the tiniest bit letdown.

Nightbringers makes me miss the ‘90s: when men were men and melodic death metal was heavy. This album reasserts once again that melodic death metal isn’t dead, and that it can barrel along at breakneck speeds, be heavy, and engaging as hell. If you love melodic death—or melodic black metal—this album is certainly one of the best you’re going to get this year. Nightbringers is chock full of awesome songs and sick riffs that will affirm your faith in one of metal’s premier bands once again.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: v0 mp3
Label: Metal Blade
Websites: theblackdahliamurder.bandcamp.com | tbdmofficial.com | facebook.com/theblackdahliamurderofficial
Releases Worldwide: October 6th, 2017

By: Dr. Wvrm

Halloween, 2008. A pre-med Wvrm’s first show. Children of Bodom, in prime form. Obituary, aging but still legends. Between the Buried & Me, just emerging as juggernauts. Any of them could have stolen the show. The band that did, however, did so not because of their high-energy performance or Scooby Gang costumes, not because their frontman sported thick-rimmed specks just like mine, but because, in 30 minutes, they dismantled what I thought modern melodic death metal should be and showed me what it could be: not simply a slick keyboard delivery system or somber sadboy outfit, but something gruesome, despicable, and, best of all, fun. The following decade would witness The Black Dahlia Murder summit the American metal scene, but that night, their panache and pit-hound mentality would matter more than the bone-rattling riffs and exploratory songcraft that would become their legacy. Nightbringers is a testament to that legacy, a hit in a catalog of hits and TBDM‘s best work since Nocturnal.

The bulk of TBDM‘s work – Nightbringers included –  fits neatly under the same sonic guidelines: a suffocating blanket of non-stop riffs, melodic enough to be memorable but never without death metal swagger; an unflagging drum performance that only adds to the crushing atmosphere; Trevor Strnad’s star-maker vocals, conversely dynamic and disgusting. Opener “Widowmaker” hacks and slashes its way through a song that fits neatly under that umbrella. Strnad’s performance easily bounces between a wonderful balance of pugnacious shrieks and gruesome gutturals. Brian Eschbach and new lead man Brandon Ellis (Arsis) build their riffs around an heightened sense of urgency, even compared to previous efforts. Alan Cassidy beats the skins like a pro wrestler who wandered into his UFC octagon. On its surface, Nightbringers could easily be chalked up as yet another solid odd-year eruption from melodeath’s Old Faithful. That would be a mistake.

Since Nocturnal, The Black Dahlia Murder have seemingly made a point to continuously expand their abilities. The Michiganders sank time and effort into ensuring their technicality and breadth of influences never stagnated. The result produced albums imbued with individual identity despite ostensibly similar offerings. Nightbringers is no different, but what sets it apart here is its execution. Eschbach and Ellis clearly brought their A-game, as each riff seems stronger than the last. Ripper “Matriarch” throws things back to Nocturnal² with its breakneck pace and single-worthy riffs. The pulsing rhythm of “Nightbringers” melts faces from its first bar, paired perfectly with technical gang-shouter “Jars.” The monstrous deathcore drop of “Catacomb Hecatomb” might scuffle under less capable supervision, but Strnad’s gruesome pukes and the band’s willingness sell the moment turn it into a true backbreaker. The composition is lithe and nearly immaculate, excising filler and diversion from 33 minutes of metal as trim and focused as they come. The result is the rare release that not only leaves me wanting more, but compels me to flip it back on immediately.

Those concerned after the departure of fret maestro Ryan Knight (ex-Arsis) need not worry: Brandon Ellis proves himself as a more than capable replacement. His solos eschew wankery without sacrificing technicality, slotting in so well that they often feel like extensions of the core direction. His riffs extend the Arsis influence further than Knight’s ever did, ensuring that the album’s frantic nature never becomes too dominant. Ellis’ Arsis background is never as apparent as on the hefty grooves of “As Good as Dead,” but “Kings of the Nightworld” deftly incorporates it into riff and solo both. Strnad’s preternatural ability to flow in and out of verses with just the right cadence and vocal texture elevates the latter track to highlight status. Yes, Strnad’s vocals, like Max Lavelle’s bass, could stand to be clearer in the mix. Yes, the strength of “lengthy” five-minute finale “The Lonely Deceased” wanes compared to the rest of the album. But it’s hard to quibble with a result this strong so deep into an already accomplished career.

As TBDM have gained fans, so too have they gained momentum. However, after Abysmal‘s short-of-great showing, I wondered if that sucking sound was Angry Metal Guy‘s Law of Diminishing Recordings™, vacuuming up all joy and wonder in the world. Instead, we get a next level performance from a band that was already a cut above. Nightbringers is the culmination of a decade’s worth of experience and innovation, the climax of a career that continually defies even the loftiest of expectations. The year end conversation was already crowded. The Black Dahlia Murder just blew the whole damn thing up.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: v0 mp3
Label: Metal Blade
Websites: theblackdahliamurder.bandcamp.com | tbdmofficial.com | facebook.com/theblackdahliamurderofficial
Releases Worldwide: October 6th, 2017

The post The Black Dahlia Murder – Nightbringers Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.