This here review raised a lot of questions in the steely House of Druhm. Sorcerer was a band I had firmly on my radar back in the 90s due to a few high quality demos featuring an interesting take on traditional metal buoyed by impressive vocals. Sadly, the best the band could manage before blinking out was a 1995 compilation of demo cuts, which despite their raw quality, was a compelling listen I still spin to this day. When I saw the name Sorcerer appear in our fetid promo bin, I assumed it would be some lo-fi black metal jiggery-pokery, but to my surprise it’s the band I knew back in the days of hair, cheap beer and free time! And to my eternal bewilderment and shame, I find I somehow completely missed their 2015 comeback album. It ain’t easy being the official Leave the Hall Monitor sometimes. Mistakes being made and owned up to, the fact the band is back and still featuring the mega pipes of Anders Engberg (ex-Lion’s Share, ex-Twilight), now supported by a who’s who of Swedish musicians from Therion and Tiamat is a truly grand surprise. Making it better still, they’ve become a top-shelf epic doom unit, fusing Candlemass with the regal neoclassical polish of Kamelot and heaping helpings of Tony Martin era Black Sabbath. Big riffs, bigger vocals, melodic sensibilities set to stun – it’s all here waiting on the I-ruhn Throne ov Swedish Doom Metal (currently occupied by the Sauron-ish Fire King).

Things start strong with “Sirens” which is a huge dose of epical doom walking the elegant line between Candlemass and Solitude Aeturnus. The riff-work grabs you and the bigger than Bejesus and exceptionally classy vocals of Anders Engberg lash you to the mast with a huge chorus. The wicked neoclassical soloing by Kristian Nieman (Therion) and Peter Hallgren are the icing on the cake, topping it off with elegance and technical wizardry. The nearly 10-minute “Ship of Doom” is an intriguing voyage to be sure, touching heavily on the playbook created by Candlemass founder Leif Edling while shrewdly incorporating elements of Siege Perilous and The Fourth Legacy era Kamelot along with vintage Mercyful Fate. The wonder of the song is how catchy and accessible it is and just how fast the 10-minutes pass by.

“Abandoned by the Gods” adds a tasty Middle Eastern flavor and a big dose of both Dream Evil and Headless Cross era Sabbath for a smoking hot slice of epic metal that’s far more addictive and hooky than it should be. Anders blows the doors off this one with a positively enormous performance, the fluid and first-rate guitar noodling is out of sight and the chorus is a big winner. “The Devil’s Incubus” is as good if not better and just as intensely catchy, and the title track is a thing is beauty, carefully stitching classic doom with Euro-power in a way I didn’t think possible. It has the strengths of both genres and neither of their weaknesses, and you have to hear it to understand. Even the oddball closer “Unbearable Sorrow” is a win despite an unusual step toward both melancholic post-metal and Dokken-esque hair metal, if you can imagine that (and you likely can’t).

Downsides? Not really. The slave master sound clips during “Ship of Doom” are a bit cheesy and take away from the otherwise world-class music, and occassionally the lyrics get a bit too LARP-friendly.

The production is polished and allows the band’s technical know-how to shine through. A darker, more menacing guitar tone would have added extra pop, but there’s little else to complain about. At almost an hour in length and full of songs between 6 and 10 minutes, this thing goes by fast! The songs are so well crafted and catchy, they seem more like radio hits than classic doom constructs. This is big, big stuff but very easy to enjoy.

Anders Engberg never sounded better and he simply owns this album from start to finish. He’s like a wondrous hybrid of Roy Khan, Tony Martin and Niklas Isfedt (Dream Evil) and brings a power and accessibility to the well constructed material. He really impressed the hell out of me here and I was already a fan of his singing. The music behind him is every bit as good and the guitar-work by Nieman and Hallgren is out of this world. They get the doom leads right and use them as a base upon which to pile classic and power metal influences and showcase some stellar solo-work. This is one of those albums where every note feels right and each adds something crucial to the song it appears within.

When I think of how far Sorcerer has come from those early demos to this ginormous crowning achievement, it boggles my metal mind. It took them 27 years to get here, but it was definitely worth the wait. A strong Album o’ the Year contender that doom, power and traditional metal fans should check out post-haste. Long live Sorcerer and the Fire King!

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 273 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade
Websites: sorcererdoom.bandcamp.com | sorcererdoom.com | facebook.com/sorcererdoom
Releases Worldwide: October 20th, 2017

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I have a unique history with Salem, Massachusetts’ Converge. Having followed them since their Caring & Killing days, my friends and I would check them out as well other metalcore luminaries such as Overcast, Shadows Fall, Disembodied, and Zao. But whereas the other aforementioned bands would put on some chaotic live shows, Converge‘s sets were a different beast entirely. Picture violent gang-shouts by Jacob Bannon and the audience, guitarist Kurt Ballou bouncing off of people’s heads like a live-action Super Mario, and people diving off stages, off of people, and even off of balconies.¹ But for whatever reason, the band fell off the radar for me after 1998’s incredible When Forever Comes Crashing. Simply put, I thought I outgrew their chaotic brand of hardcore. And because of that, I missed one of the biggest about-faces with their legendary 2001 album, Jane Doe; an album that married their atonal metalcore with thick post-metal influences. It’s only been in recent years that I’ve been playing catch-up with their catalog, and the amount of progress on each subsequent album has been nothing short of astounding.

The growth and maturity continue on their ninth album, The Dusk in Us. Just as “A Single Tear” proceeds to rip you a new one with a frantic “‘Thunderstruck’ on caffeine” riff and Ben Koller’s slaughtering of his drumkit, you would be forgiven if your jaw also dropped at the revelation that the song is about Bannon becoming a father for the first time (“When I held you for the first time/I knew I had to survive.”). Somehow, “A Single Tear” becomes both a touching memento of first-time fatherhood and one of the band’s most visceral tunes penned to date. This duality isn’t particularly new to Converge or their fans, but the way the band expertly merged a lovingly euphoric feeling with vitriolic catharsis exemplifies why Converge remains head-and-shoulders above their contemporaries.

The Dusk in Us also throws out some short-and-sweet backward glances to their earlier days on “Broken by Light,” recalling their When Forever Comes Crashing days, with an ending guaranteed to go down a fucking hoot live. “Eye of the Quarrel” also tosses older fans a bone with some fat bass work by Nate Newton, a frantic d-beat, and rushed vocals. But their strength in recent years lies in their ability to craft long, sprawling songs that build and climax, washing the listener over in waves of emotionally crushing post-rock. The title track, clocking in at over seven minutes, pays off in dividends with an incredible build-up and phenomenal climax commencing at 4:44, and lasting to the song’s end. Elsewhere, “Thousands of Miles Between Us” breaks hearts with a pummeling rhythm section and a wrenching chorus (“There is no place in this world to hide/My shattered smile that life provides/Stand up straight, take it on the chin/Pick up my teeth and start again.”). Both sides of Converge shine brightly throughout the album’s duration.

Once again recorded in Ballous’ infamous GodCity Studio, The Dusk in Us reveals densely packed layers of guitars, but miraculously Newton’s bass remains thick and beefy throughout. Also, Bannon’s voice sounds clearer than on previous works, allowing for his poetic lyrics to breathe and paint a chaotic, beautiful picture. Very little fault can be found on here, though I will admit that “Trigger” didn’t do much for me, short as it was. Another more minor nitpick is that “Eve,” the colossal B-side to the “I Can Tell You About Pain” single released earlier this year, could have easily been added to the album’s tracklisting, given how strong the overall package was. Then again, I understand completely the need to let that song shine on its own.²

It’s rare for a band with over 25 years of history to remain relevant with the changing tastes of the music scene at large. It’s next to impossible, however, for a band to be around that long and not only remain vital, but continue to improve, mature, and captivate, all while remaining unflinchingly heavy, brutal, and most importantly themselves. Converge have once again thrown the gauntlet down for others to pick up. Let The Dusk in Us wash over you.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Labels: Epitaph Records | Deathwish, Inc.
Websites: Convergecult.com | facebook.com/converge
Releases Worldwide: November 3rd, 2017

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It comes as little surprise that Finland, a country whose sun-cycle engenders circadian insanity, is host to a veritable pantheon of definitively heavy bands. Desolate Shrine stand proud amidst their ranks, hoisting aloft a looming colossus of atmospheric death metal to further blot out the sun. Standing on the shoulders of an already potent discography, fourth album, Deliverance from the Godless Void, weaves arcane Incantations through Thergothonian vistas for yet another evocative and doubly crushing outing. 2015’s The Heart of the Netherworld smothered and stifled with its dense environs; this time around, the Fins have donned a notably blackened mantle, and while it doesn’t alter the spell-craft too dramatically, the added fire and brimstone most certainly serves to unsettle already perilous waters.

If you’re new to the band, what Desolate Shrine play is an inclement death metal ensorcelled with a doom sensibility to shame Nostradamus. But realistically, the line between the extreme genres is increasingly slight here, as a prominent black metal inflection commands more and more of these occult orchestrations. “The Primordial One” wields Norwegian notes amidst relentless tides of blasting drums and mournful guitar leads, often building to disconsolate crescendos, while the bands’ diseased desire to toy with tempos soon rears its head on “Lord of the Three Realms,” employing an ebbing, sea-sick rhythm amidst the vocals of duel-frontmen, M.T and R.S, whose confluence of rusted rasps and aphotic deeps manage to haunt in equal measure.

While this is an act whose nature is effortlessly abyssal, Deliverance has a deceptively wicked way with riffs — an angle left somewhat unattended on previous records. “Unmask the Face of False” and album centrepiece, “The Graeae,” both manipulate brooding doom riffs that are simultaneously devastating and eerily memorable, and with each song a whisper under ten minutes long, monotony is never an issue, with enough alterations in structure to see the advanced lengths flow by in the blink of a masochistic eye. The latter in particular unravels slowly before carving out vast sunken grooves to immediately engage the neck, sparsely accented with isolated piano keys for a truly chilling entry. Connoisseurs of traditional immediacy in their metal may not delve too deeply here, and as such, the claustrophobic quality the material thrives on might not be for everybody. This is blackened death metal at its most pernicious, and if those genres don’t apply to your musical specifications, then neither will Desolate Shrine. Fortunately, those listeners possessed of a more tempestuous taste can rely on cuts like “Demonic Evocation Prayer” to exemplify its title, scorching through its existence with savage abandon, often accelerating beyond the passages of unsettling calm the song provides amidst its innate storm.

In comparison with previous albums, the production here is a shade cleaner. Though hardly sanitized, it does offer the quality of the mix a chance to stand out, cementing multi-instrumentalist, L.L’s consummate dedication to Desolate Shrine in his ability to deliver feral guitar lines and contrast them with inescapable crunch. The production particularly emphasizes his noteworthy drum work, proliferating a jarring dichotomy of insistent blastbeats amidst creative fills that accentuate the record’s more pensive moments, allowing those vilifying vocals to emanate up from the ether. Such is the quality of the writing, the record builds in pressure throughout its run-time – “The Silent Star” gathers up a collection of those lumbering rhythms and displays them boldly over suffocating atmospherics, anchoring the album’s second half with a grave gravitas amidst its more scathing siblings.

Black, death, atmospheric, call it what you will, this is music to drown in — emotionally unforgiving and perversely obsessional. Desolate Shrine are a band that elicit hyperbole and deservedly so, as their brand of darkened discontent is superlative in itself. In a genre where “malevolent” is often synonymous with “pantomime,” Deliverance from the Godless Void offers a legitimate ink-blotted gloom to submerge ourselves — an experience I urge you not to miss — come this chill turn of the season. Layered with adept musicianship and predatory writing, this is the current jewel in this Finnish leviathan’s crown, whose wicked propensity for aural ugliness proves inexorably that Desolation is forever Godless, and this whole act immutably decreed.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent Records
Websites: desolateshrine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/desolateshrine
Releases Worldwide: November 10th, 2017

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Hamferð first came to my attention following the publication of my review of the most recent Barren Earth record. The two bands share a vocalist—Jón Aldará—and his voice was the absolute highlight of On Lonely Towers. However, at the time, Evst was already two years old, and so I never reviewed it. But already then, it was obvious to me that this Faroese funeral doom band was something special. Hamferð plays a style of doom that is thankfully impervious to serious trendiness. Truly excellent doom is pretty rare,¹ and I have developed a bit of an aversion to the doom genre because my promo inbox is populated by a glut of stoned, raw-water-drinking hipsters trying to play Black Sabbath riffs as though they were interesting and/or novel nearly 50 years after they were first written. But when done well, doom metal can be an intense, beautiful, and crushing genre. And Hamferð does it well.

Támsins likam (The Body of Mist) is a concept album whose story precedes the band’s 2013 album Evst. The main character is the same, but Támsins likam introduces the perspective of his wife as the pair grieves the loss of a child to illness. On the opening track, “Fylgisflog” (Flight for Procession), the woman imagines herself escaping her responsibility for maintaining family stability, while the man sinks into a depression, losing sight of the needs of his wife and remaining son. The parents’ different ways of grieving leads to a conflict that grows throughout the story, which ultimately leads to tragedy (“Hon syndrast” [She Disintegrates]), but not resolution (“Vápn i anda” [Armed in Spirit]). While the lyrics are in Faroese, guitarist and composer Theodor Kapnas manages to communicate the story deftly through the album’s feel.

Támsins likam feels like a slow build, but reveals itself to be circular in its final strains. The album is deliberate and crushing; doom to the core, with leaden guitars, and thick, ponderous bass and drums. Or it’s supple and mournful; padded with ethereal resonances—cellos, double bass, grand piano or Esmar Joensen’s soft keys. Over top of this, Aldará’s voice is perfectly suited for the whole range of emotions conveyed throughout. This is perfectly demonstrated on “Fylgisflog,” where his mournful song—which at times reminded me of Eowyn’s song of mourning in The Two Towers—gives way to a scream of pain and rasping growls that evoke Still Life-era Opeth.

Each track on Támsins likam reveals different wrinkles of the band’s sound. “Stygd” (Cowardice) starts with vocal choirs and meditative feel. “Tvístevndur meldur” (The Two-headed Whirlwind) starts with grand piano and ends on a note that doesn’t resolve, while “Frosthvarv” (Fleeting Frost) wanders deep into Katatonia territory at its outset, before giving way to a wicked fury. The fury of “Frosthvarv” is followed by the album’s undeniable emotional peak on “Hon syndrast.” Hamferð picks up the tempo a bit here with crunchy guitars in a quarter-note feel that are easy to nod along with. Aldará’s vocals peak and the track breaks into the most intense material on the album, cresting into a blast beat at one point. This gives way to the album’s closer, “Vápn i anda,” and when the final track circles back around to the album’s opening strains, it’s as effective a recapitulation as I’ve ever heard.

Hamferð demonstrates excellent musicianship and compositional intelligence on Támsins likam. Of particular note is the work of their inventive, clever drummer Remi Kofoed Johannesen. Hamferð plays some of its slowest material without the drums keeping time. Instead, Johannesen riffs languidly along on his toms, letting the rhythm go tacit (like on “Stygd”). This is difficult at any speed, but it may be harder at the speed of dirge. But the drums, like the whole band, work in unison with the whole band; the guitars and bass are arranged so perfectly that they function orchestrally. Ísak Petersen’s bass anchors Hamferð‘s fat, meaty riffs, and the guitarists—John Áki Egholm and the aforementioned Kapnas—drop subtle solos and demonstrate fantastic feel for their instruments. And, as the best vocalists do, Jón ties the album together. He demonstrates the ability to work with everything asked of him, and to shine. Whether he strikes a mournful tone, a beastly growl, angelic cleans, or a tortured cry, Aldará’s performance is striking and beautiful.

Támsins likam is an artful album from an extremely promising band. All of the writing and excellent performances are mixed to perfection, and Daniel Bergstrand and Kapnas’ production is meticulous. The result is a record that is immense, enrapturing and moving. Some records are just so good that as a reviewer, I encourage you to just take 45 minutes, a pair of headphones, and find a dark place to sit or lay, and let the Támsins likam wash over you. The album exudes depth, intensity, loss and sadness. I can wax poetic about Aldará’s brass-like voice or Johanessen’s clever drumming, or Kapnas’ excellent composition, but Támsins likam is an album that should simply be allowed to speak for itself.

Rating: Excellent!
DR: 7 | Media Reviewed: V0 mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: hamferd.bandcamp.com | hamferd.com | facebook.com/hamferd
Release Date: January 12, 2018

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Tribulation have been on an interesting career path as of late. While their early works could be loosely classified as Swedish death metal a la Entombed, the band gradually began to bring in other influences and become something else entirely. As of 2015’s The Children Of The Night, the band was taking cues from such diverse sources as Mercyful Fate and Sisters Of Mercy, and seemed to have learned a few things from former tourmates In Solitude, with excellent results. I was curious about what Tribulation would do next, and with the impending release of Down Below, it looks like I’m about to find out.

The album kicks off with a near-classical guitar intro leading into “The Lament,” which is a fairly progressive yet streamlined composition. This track makes use of some clever counterpoint between guitarists Adam Zaars and Jonathan Hultén, while also incorporating some tasteful piano and even a brief bass solo. At first listen, it seems like Down Below sports a more polished mix than its somewhat raw-sounding predecessor, but this actually compliments Tribulation‘s current sound nicely. “Nightbound” is another “wow” moment, built upon a cascading, jangly guitar pattern and, later, some intricate harmonized soloing.

The uptempo “Lady Death” bears more than a passing resemblance to the much-missed In Solitude, separated only by bassist/frontman Johannes Andersson’s guttural vocals. (For those wondering: Tribulation has not ventured into the perilous waters of ‘clean vocals’ just yet). These three songs are the strongest start to an album that I’ve heard in a long time. Stylistically, this feels like an evolution of the approach first heard on Children Of The Night, but with more memorable (dare I say catchy?) songwriting. Consider me impressed.

I have no idea if the members of Tribulation read my review of their last album, but they seem to have taken one piece of my advice to heart. In lamenting Children Of The Night‘s overlong running time, I had suggested creating a 45-minute, 8-track album, and then make an EP out of any extra material. Three years later, Down Below contains 8 reasonably long songs and an instrumental, for a total running time of 46 minutes. And there’s even a companion EP, Lady Death, where a few non-album tracks seem to have ended up. I applaud this move, since it was my idea after all, and I think we can all agree that this is yet another result of AMG’s increasing influence.

“Subterranea” and “Cries From The Underworld” utilize piano and even synth effectively, while also being among the most aggressive tracks on the record. “Purgatorio” is the album’s sole instrumental, and engages in some of the same creepy Danny Elfman-isms that the band has dabbled in before. This leads into the pounding “Lacrimosa,” perhaps the heaviest and yet most complex song on the record. Anchored by a pummeling performance by new drummer Oscar Leander, the song goes through several musical movements before arriving at a quiet, piano-led outro. Up next is the anthemic, hook-filled “The World,” which sounds like the Chicago Bulls intro music executed in the grimmest fashion possible. The 7-minute-long closing track “Here Be Dragons” is maybe a little much (I don’t want to hear anyone sing about dragons except Dio), but the musicianship is still at a high level here.

Down Below is “gothic” in the original sense of the term. It’s a world of cobblestone and bronze, lit by gas lamps and populated by people who prefer to go about their business at night. Andersson’s vocals aside, most of the traditional “metal” elements of the band’s sound are gone, replaced by a different kind of darkness. This record is one of those rare instances where a band manages to transcend their influences and their own back catalog, and come out stronger as a result. Tribulation has been headed in this direction for several years, but with Down Below‘s ambitious songwriting and meticulous execution, they’ve finally arrived.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media
Website: facebook.com/tribulation
Releases Worldwide: January 26th, 2018

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Finland’s Thaurorod has finally produced its third studio album after a hiatus of nearly five years, and I finally have both one of my most-anticipated releases of 2018, and a album that isn’t excruciatingly hard to write about. For those not acquainted, this group has a curious legacy. Its 2010 debut, Upon Haunted Battlefields, was one of my favorites of the year, and remains overwhelmingly positive to this day. Despite its barely controlled chaos, overly ambitious songwriting, and occasional inconsistencies, it was a thundering mammoth of a debut that startled me into alacrity. By 2013, singer Andi Kravljaca had joined up with the act, replacing erstwhile vocalist Markku Kuikka (Kenziner, Status Minor), and the band’s lineup finally stabilized, resulting in the considerably more approachable Anteinferno. Nothing has now changed in lineup or general sound since 2012, and so hopes for Coast of Gold were running high.

Andi himself has become one of my favorite metal vocalists after his work in Celestial Decay, Silent Call, and on Anteinferno. Coast of Gold stands as a testament to his growth as a singer. His tone, stamina, and raw energy have all improved over prior efforts, and the man has truly come into his own as an accomplished singer. He leads Thaurorod in its frenetic, topically-varied charge through piratical waters, classic French literature, florid power metal joy, and everything in between. Stylistically, this is purebred Finnish power metal in the tradition of Stratovarius (but much less neoclassically influenced), Celesty (but much more consistent), and Dreamtale (but much less corny), though with a more prominent rhythmic intensity than any of the above.

Coast of Gold offers intrepid double bass and chorus-focused power metal aplenty, and is only occasionally given to stepping back to catch a breath – but that’s the way I prefer my Euro-power. Careening anthems such as “Power,” “My Sun will Rise,” and “Feed the Flame” belie the group’s ability to craft well-developed, thoughtful songs with more musical density and adept lyricism – all while maintaining a similarly strong gift for ruinously addictive melody. “24601” and “Illuminati” embody this multi-faceted songwriting nicely, and the former is perhaps my new favorite song from the band. The occasional attempts at philosophy result in inevitable cognitive dissonance, and there are a few clunky lyrics here and there, but few bands are as adept at tonally intuitive musical storytelling as they are at unadulterated power metal fury. Only the mighty Dragonland earns a close sound and style comparison at times – and I think Under the Grey Banner might be the last time I felt so thoroughly blitzed by power metal drumwork.

Thaurorod offers a parade of uncomplicated, top-gear power metal tracks that are nearly uniform in their exemplary quality. The two (very) minor drags being “Cannibal Island,” where a bizarre intro and less thrilling chorus make for a slight taper in energy, and “Halla,” the only place that the Finns legitimately slow down and take a swing at a power ballad. The vocal melody on the latter is still strong, however, and I find that the wintery melancholy of the track is not an unpleasant close to such an energetic album. I guess that means I don’t have anything in the way of substantial criticism to level at Coast of Gold. Songs like “Feed the Flame” and “24601” are immediate additions to my playlist of all-time favorites, and would be contenders for song of the year regardless of the decade. Kravljaca’s vocal melodies have seared themselves into my memory, and have driven me embarrassingly to distraction during a couple of sleepless nights. Last time that happened, it was thanks to “White Pearl, Black Oceans…” in my freshman year of college.

I do not think I’ve been so blown away by a no-frills, high-octane Euro power release since Cain’s Offering’s Stormcrow, and I don’t think I’ve spun an album so much in a compact period of time since Dark Forest’s Beyond the Veil came out. I realize I’m drawing a lot of high-profile parallels for fans of European power metal, but I am firmly convinced of this group’s melodic capability and mastery of the subgenre’s formula. Sometimes, though with increasing infrequency, power metal doesn’t need to progress to feel fresh and addictive. Sometimes what the fans want is a dozen repetitions of the same glorious chorus, with a hooky guitar lead and racing percussion for company. Coast of Gold sees Thaurorod hitting its stride and breaking into fleet exuberance, and I would not be in the least surprised to see the band breaking through with this, its most consistently stable and electrifying release to date.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Drakkar Entertainment
Websites: thaurorod.com | facebook.com/thaurorod
Releases Worldwide: February 16th, 2018

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In my eighteen months writing for this blog I’ve somehow failed to even once express my affinity for Skeletonwitch. They are, without question, one of my very favorite metal bands; their ability to pair unconventionally hooky melodies with equally catchy thrash rhythms, bred with prominent elements of melodic death and black metal, gets my blood flowing in a way that traditional genre affair can never quite match. Describing Skeletonwitch’s sound in this review also serves to summarize the sound of Denver, Colorado’s Necropanther, whose approach is so similar to that of the ‘Witch as to be one riff away from an overnighted cease and desist letter. And yet, the more I listened to their sophomore record Eyes of Blue Light, conscious associations between Necropanther and their primary influence dissipated, because the way that this band embraces and perfects everything they attempt places them in a class all their own. Oh, and they absolutely fucking slay.

They may not quite touch Skeletonwitch in terms of sheer riff creativity, but in almost every other area, Necropanther triumphs. Their willingness to lean their full weight into all of their influences unshackles them from thrash tropes in a way that makes Eyes of Blue Light a perfectly well-rounded experience. Its sound understanding of both thrash and melodeath makes for an aesthetic that’s as much Bay Area as it is Gothenburg, and tangents like the soaring power metal harmonies of “Hunter Seeker” or the disgustingly filthy Disma riffs of “House Atomics” are slipped in so naturally as to feel like integral components of the compositions. Hell, even closing cut “Strange Gods,” an instrumental piece of melodic doom, makes for one of the more compelling outros in recent memory despite sounding little like anything that came before it. At around thirty-five minutes, this record is the embodiment of the “all killer, no filler” philosophy, constantly thrilling and, when it wants to be, emotionally impactful.

This emotional weight is intrinsically connected to the record’s concept. If you haven’t already picked this up from the album and track titles, Eyes of Blue Light retells Frank Herbert’s classic sci-fi novel Dune, taking the essential beats covered in David Lynch’s film adaptation and hyper-condensing them into twelve tracks that touch on the most memorable moments. The music reflects the plot in ways that completely suit the action; from the classic, blistering thrash riff that roils its way out from the doomy introductory power chords to mimic a rising sandworm in “Shai-Hulud,” to the inspirational melodies that accompany the Fremens’ initial training of Weirding modules (“Weirding Way”), Eyes of Blue Light is consistently, convincingly dramatic without ever forgetting its priorities as an exhilarating extreme metal record. Plus, the lyrical emphasis is infectious as hell. I dare you not to try to growl along to the ascending guitar harmonies in “Gom Jabbar:” Heat / Upon Heat / Upon Heat / Upon Heat!

Of course, you would probably tear your vocal cords apart trying to mimic the gurgled roars of frontman/guitarist Paul Anop, who delivers biting and coherent harsh vocals that are essential in conveying Necropanther’s concept. While Paul’s pipes may be the most distinguished aspect of the band’s performances, the rest of the members are no slouches, with guitarists Anop and Joe Johnson in particular impressing with taut, pervasive rhythm and lead harmonies and cleverly stacked riff layers. Meanwhile, drummer Haakon Sjoegren (ex-Havok) incorporates plenty of fills and smart cymbal work to set himself apart part from most thrash metal drummers, and bassist Marcus Corich (also ex-Havok) crafts audible undercurrents of secondary melody, especially evident in “Weirding Way.” The strong bass presence , satisfying guitar crunch, and well-balanced mix are as solid as you’d expect from legendary producer Frederik Nordström, but unfortunately the master is unnecessarily compressed, and the drums fail to make a strong impact.

These minor production quibbles aside, I’d be extremely surprised if I end up covering a more thoroughly enjoyable and kick-ass record this year. Necropanther set out to tackle an extremely ambitious concept with an equally far-reaching toolset within a seemingly restrictive run time, yet accomplishes more than most double albums can hope for because it never wastes a single second of disc space. Eyes of Blue Light’s individual moments may not be revolutionary in and of themselves, but the way these moments are molded together into extremely concise blasts of melodic thrashing metal puts nearly every band attempting a similar amalgamation to shame. Go buy the fuck out of this record, because Necropanther deserves your support.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: necropanther.com | necropanther.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/PantherICT
Releases Worldwide: February 23rd, 2018

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Remember Dodecahedron, oooh and how a certain timeless scribe-god lauded their last effort as being worthy of emulation? Yeah, I ‘member, and I also ‘member thinking the lad a tad light in the heartbox when he confessed to its ability to bring him to actual physical discomfort. “That’s not a thing!” says I, omitting a slanderous phrase or six from this recollection for the sake of the children¹. Dialing up the reverb and deliberately hitting “wrong” notes can establish a malevolent aesthetic effectively enough, yet I’ve never encountered music genuinely able to instill honest-to-God fear in me through sound alone. Well, “had” never. That Dodecahedron would eventually amass a following of sonic acolytes was never contested, but I can honestly say that nothing has ever, frankly, fucked-me-right-up, the way that my most recent Angry Metal Discovery has. With hands still trembling in fear, I will now do what I can to describe the horrors that Pittsburgh’s Slaves BC have inflicted upon me with their latest offering, Lo, and I Am Burning.

If you’ve assumed by now that Slaves sound similar to Dodecahedron, congratulations! Also, don’t do that, you ass. Dodecahedron is a fair enough comparison, but Slaves BC blend such repulsively tumultuous material with the more straightforward stylings and emotional mindset of Anagnorisis, then further enhance this chaos with the droning, dissonant mindfuckery of Plebeian Grandstand, creating something dark and downright disturbing. Not content to merely sound creepy, Lo is an introspective and almost invasively personal journey through the narrator’s past, apparently exploring a history intrinsically rooted in familial faith via shrieks that lie somewhere between black metal and Converge and winding up in some seriously dark places along the way. Whether or not the listener shares the band’s faith is irrelevant, the sincere and sincerely violent performance of “Honor Thy Father and Mother” captures the harrowing inner turmoil of “I am a failure/ I am not a man/ I will never be loved/ I will never find grace” to a nondenominational T. Lo is a terrifying thing of twisted family ties, spiritual sickness and crippling cognitive dissonance, and it fucking sounds like it.

Perhaps most unsettling about the palpable rage and anguish of such sacraments as “We are All God’s Fault” and “Lightbearer” is the organic manner in which each of Lo’s nine tracks meld into each other, so effectively in fact that I frequently missed them during early spins. This is more than a collection of cool songs; Lo is not just an album but an album—a sonic rendering of emotions that tell a story from beginning to end, one which can be divided into clear chapters and yet isn’t necessarily meant to be broken up at all. Constantly leaping from one realm of discord to another is the key here, and indeed the songs shift so frequently that a 30-second sampling of any given track will likely tear the listener through atonal black metal fuzz, feedback-laden sludge and ripping grind fury before one can process that aforementioned blackly eclectic spasm was but one passage within one single song. Lo, and I Am Burning is every bit as frantic as its name implies, and the spectacular manner in which this discordant collection of disparate sounds is able to coexist and function as a whole is nothing short of miraculous.

I know you impatient bastards are unable to wait for 750 words to see whatever number we Angry Metal Wordslingers attribute to our prose, which means you know that Lo is not an immaculate conception… just real damn close. Heartfelt and heart-stopping though it is, the album occasionally stumbles on its own hectic footing, sometimes lurking in the shadows of a particular riff or chord for just a touch too long to feel fair. Thankfully, this slight blemish mars things only once or twice, namely in “Lo” and by proxy within its continuation into “We are All God’s Fault.” Where 99.666% of the album is some of the most sincere and engaging metal I’ve heard to date, the flaw is minor, but it exists nonetheless. Also, there’s no cowbell to speak of, so frankly my hands are tied here.

Lo, and I Am Burning is a dark and troubling gem, a hoard of inner demons hurtling by, unleashed with so much honesty and trvth as to render the petrifying procession beautiful. Regardless of religious beliefs, I would urge all ye faithful to dissonant metal to make a pilgrimage to this album, as this is trvly faith-affirming stuff. Hear me, I beg.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: The Fear and the Void Recordings
Websites: slavesbc.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/slavesbc
Releases Worldwide: March 16th, 2018

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Finland’s Barren Earth started as the bastard child of Amorphis and Swallow the Sun. Their first record, Curse of the Red River sounded like Opeth played by Tuonela-era Amorphis, and the follow-up—The Devil’s Resolve—was similar, if not as good. Barren Earth really came into their own on their 2015’s On Lonely Towers. That record introduced new singer—who they coincidentally share with the astounding Hamferð—Jón Aldará and helped to refine their sound even further. They took a distinct step away from the Åkerfeldtian sound they had crafted earlier on, putting their cards in the epic and doom-y; a sound which they supported perfectly with Jon’s addition to the band. I, of course, celebrate Barren Earth’s entire discography, and I’ll be frank: A Complex of Cages features these Finnish-Faroe melodic deathers still obviously at the top of their game.

A Complex of Cages doesn’t break open Barren Earth’s sound to be something dashingly new. Rather, it shows these Faroe-Finns rocking out mid-paced death riffs, offsetting it with cleaner parts and littering the heaviest sections with borderline orchestral black metal. All of this is built on the sturdy base of Amorphis riffs that permeate nearly every song on the album. “Further Down,” for example, features the kind of winding guitar melodies—counterpoint to the vocals—characteristic of Elegy-era Amorphis. Epic “Solitude Path” is like a Moomin-esque “To Tame a Land,” and in my notes I started short-handing these moments as “Tuonela-melodies.” The band leans heavily on the use of harmonic minor, like many bands from Norden, but there is a specific kind of musical phrasing to these tracks that is uniquely Barren Earth’s.

With this base—a combination of a unique voice and harmonic minor—the band litters the songs with a ton of ideas. Folky acoustics, like on “Ruby,” with an Åkerfeldtian feel on “Dysphoria.” “Spire” features almost OSDM riffing, while “Scattersprey” starts with a 6/8 swing only to end up with wet, keyboard soaked blasts. The material is sneaky progressive at times—the main verse in “Zeal” is in 7/4, while the interlude after the chorus grinds like late-Vomitory.

All of this, of course, is held together by the incredible vocal performance of Jón Aldará. His delivery is dynamic and varied—moving between breathy, dramatic cleans on “Further Down,” to vicious growls on “Dysphoria.” His voice is the thing which takes the riffing and songs over the edge. He has great range, and he evokes emotion without ever feeling melodramatic. They harmonized a lot of his material this time, as well, often giving the main vocal line a single harmony—evoking those classic Amorphis harmonies. Put together, his vocal performance reminds me of Trim from King Goat or a Candelmassian drama; epic, dynamic, and the perfect focus for the album. Barren Earth’s music is far more dynamic than the aforementioned doomsters, but Jón’s voice makes this album excellent. I think he’s quickly becoming one of my favorite vocalists in metal.

Generally speaking, A Complex of Cages sounds pretty good; I had hoped to get the vinyl version for review, to help the band avoid the paragraph about brickwalling and Industry Standard Mastering, but I’ve listened to the album through a variety of speakers and while one can knit pick, I didn’t find it as fatiguing as its predecessor. And I need to give a shout out to V. Santura’s production, which managed to maintain surprisingly good drum sound for its DR6 master. The biggest knock against A Complex of Cages is that it’s a bit too long. The track that I could most do without is “Solitude Path,” which clocks in at 10+ minutes and reeks of bong water and patchouli. While none of the component parts are bad—in fact, I love the way the song recapitulates the intro at the end, but in a heavier form—it takes 5 minutes to get going and it breaks my immersion. My Angry Metal Attention Deficit Disorder (AMADD) may be the problem, it breaks immersion and is the place where I’m most likely to stop the record.

The final test of whether a record is good comes when the final notes of the last track die out and you are left in silence. If you reach to re-start the thing, then you know that you’re listening to something special. A Complex of Changes always gets me to press play again. The epic melodeath that Barren Earth purveys may be perfectly crafted just for me, of course, but I think that A Complex of Cages is excellent because it balances drama, melody, intensity with artful composition and skill. The addition of Jón Aldára pushed this band from great to excellent, and A Complex of Cages is another hour of beautiful, intense and thoughtful music that will surely excite fans of older Amorphis and melodic death more broadly.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media
Websites: barrenearth.com | facebook.com/barrenearth
Releases Worldwide: March 30, 2018

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UK emokrust collective Morrow dropped a massive debut on my lap in 2016 in the form of Covenant of Teeth, an engrossing 4-song album that told a tale of a futuristic society where Earth was so ravaged by humankind’s assault of its natural resources that they became tribal again. The marriage of poetic lyrics, visceral vocals, and a sad-yet-ragingly-defiant musical backdrop lingered in my psyche long after my review was published. In fact, truth be told, it’s all I listened to this past Christmas season, not only to keep my mind occupied and my energy maintained, but also because the follow-up, Fallow, was due to drop in the spring of this year. So imagine my surprise when Fallow was released as a “name your price” release on the band’s Bandcamp over Christmas Eve last year, with a physical release soon. Yes, I’ve been listening to this album since then. Should be an easy review to write, yes?

You would think so. Not that the music has lost any power (it hasn’t) or the lyrics have become trite and pretentious (again, no). Rather, how does one properly describe music that grabs at your core and refuses to let go? Retaining their crust punk ethos and expert use of violins and cello, Morrow have started to condense a couple of tunes without once losing impact of their message, while adding a slight curveball or two along the way. “The Hunt” proves this by marrying their trademark sound with cues from Converge and modern-day Zao, all at a hair under four minutes. Once again, though, it’s their longer epics that elevate Fallow (and Morrow) to powerful heights. “Auguries of Menace” and “Crown in Red” bookend the album powerfully, both extending past 11 minutes, but make every second feel emotionally draining and powerful throughout, with the former containing some of the band’s most raucous performances, and the latter becoming the most sorrowful.

As powerful as the music is, the vocals and lyrics push Fallow even further. Much like Covenant before it, Fallow continues the story of humanity 3000 years into the future, following the tribe from Covenant, the Norr, leaving their home in the now-exhausted forest to venture into the desert, hoping to salvage some level of peace. Written with some nods to their amazing debut (“Do you still/smile for us/old forgiving grin?” from “Beyond the Cleaved Land”), vocalist/lyricist Alex CF once again deftly crafts a vivid painting of a seemingly doomed tribe, made the more colorful by his visceral performance, as well as the guest vocals from bands such as Fall of Efrafa, Wildspeaker, and Autarch, among others. Each voice channels the tribe’s hope and sadness in equal measures, resulting in a powerfully captivating overall package.

Soundwise, Fallow doesn’t deviate much from the formula laid down on Covenant. The guitars and bass remain grimy and dirty, fitting in beautifully with the album’s theme while the drums retain their thunderous might. The violins and cello cut through the mire, almost like a beam of light through an oppressive fog. If there was a slight flaw to be had with Fallow, it would be with the use of stringed instruments. Compared to Covenant, the melodies laid out on Fallow by the violins and cello aren’t nearly as prominent, or as varied. They oftentimes feel like they’re following the same lines and motifs repeatedly. Otherwise, like the best of stories, Fallow expertly progresses the story laid out beautifully by Covenant before it.

So, I guess the problem I had with writing about Fallow was not in how to convey the power of Morrow‘s music, but rather the impact it has, or the message behind it. Fallow has proven that, no matter how dark and dire things get, you see things through to the end, bitter or otherwise. It’s not hard to relate to that message, and that’s why I connected so strongly to both Fallow and Morrow. I made the mistake of not including Covenant of Teeth on my Top Ten(ish) two years ago, and that same mistake won’t be repeated, even if it came out last year after the lists were published. Fallow is worthy of both your money and attention.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: v0 mp3
Label: Alerta Antifascista Records (Europe) | Halo of Flies (North America)
Websites: morrowpunx.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/morrowpunx
Release Dates: 24.12.2017 (digital) | 09.06.2018 (Europe) | 04.01.2018 (NA)

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In 2004, a close friend of mine lost not one but both of his parents in the Indian Ocean tsunami that claimed nearly a quarter of a million lives. While I hope I will never experience tragedy as dramatic and profound as his, the impact reverberated throughout our small group, and to a comparatively infinitesimal degree, we shared in his loss. Without wanting to cheapen such sorrow, doom metal — particularly in its more extreme iterations — has always offered me a similar catalytic capacity to know its author’s pain. Canada’s Altars of Grief dabble in a blackened funeral doom, and their second album, Iris, is yet to fail to devastate me in a way that only the truly heartbroken know. Crushing, beautiful and unequivocally exceptional.

It can’t be denied that the band’s self-coined “prairie doom” owes a musical debt to the much-missed Woods of Ypres, and by extension, Type O Negative. Woods 5 is a rare perfect album for me, and denied further releases from such acts, due to the unfortunate passing of both David Gold and Peter Steele, I’m nothing short of delighted to find their musical legacy is not just being maintained, but progressed by the likes of Altars of Grief. Centered around a pseudo-concept of one man’s acute loss, vocalist, Damian Smith, interchanges between familiar sonorous cleans and a mid-range blackened roar to recount a lifetime spent with the burden of bereavement. The vocal work on this album is key, with most of the band layering their own input behind Smith’s to create a rich luster to offset the anguished emotion.

Iris boasts a level of songwriting exemplary of the upper echelons of the craft. I, personally, don’t bear a burning love for black metal unless it’s well melded with another genre — fortunately, the band has pillaged Norway’s dark flame for the necessary kindling only, subtly charring the material and knowingly allowing the inconsolable doom to pervade. “Desolation” and the title track often seethe with crisp tremolos and wild blasting until the intrinsic melancholy swallows everything whole once again. For such a dense record — conceptually and musically — each song remarkably manages to mourn on its own merit, bonded to Iris as a whole via a stunning ever-present cello. The centerpiece, “Child of Light,” hosts a veritable seraphim of dramatic chords until a more pronounced death/doom inflection crawls over the maudlin pace, peaking with a huge bridge riff, courtesy of Evan Paulson and Erik Labossiere, that triumphantly elevates the chorus. And really, the sheer memorability of every song is what serves to separate the woeful wheat from the crestfallen chaff. Some bands just don’t have the aptitude to convey the desired effect with such indelible songwriting — Altars of Grief seamlessly consolidate the two, so by the time the funereal “Broken Hymn” lurches into life, with drummer, Zack Bellina, supplying a much weightier growl, I’m hardly surprised at the sheer immediacy of the album’s heaviest song, whose deathly march actually manages to accentuate the strings rather than the other way around.

Yes, the master is a tad compressed and perhaps the guitar tone is a little thin when backed with such dramatic programming, but honestly, I couldn’t care less. I can’t even conceive of what kind of pompous moron I’d have to be to quibble over industry-standard production when the record’s material is as sterling as it is. Surely channeling the spirit of David Gold, closer, “Becoming Intangible,” exists as a reflective threnody, minimalist, and stirring. When Smith half-whispers “I’ve never felt so close to God” as he audibly fades, it’s genuinely chilling until the piece slips into one last blast of tangible fury, culminating with the best riff of the album in as cinematic an apotheosis as metal can muster.

Albums like Iris champion composition, existing to blind the overly-washed masses as they peer down their narrow, monochrome minds at metal as a whole. Moving, well-crafted and infinitely replayable despite its implication, Altars of Grief have carved a modern classic of doom, coruscating yet beautifully bleak and never afraid to display its forefather’s bones. I don’t know who Iris is or what she represents, but whenever her namesake fades away, I know I would move mountains to have her back, and that is an effect that only the most prodigious of art can command.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: altarsofgrief.bandcamp.com | altarsofgrief.com | facebook.com/altarsofgrief
Releases Worldwide: March 21st, 2018

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A black metal Transcending Obscurity release with monochrome artwork: who could have ever foreseen this one falling into my velvety grasp? Portugal’s Gaerea certainly put their Muppet-est foot forward when casting Unsettling Whispers into the Angry Metal Promo Sump, and yet I was wary. Black metal is the best metal, ov course, but it’s also everywhere and lately sounding too similar to itself. Sure, a few vague details got my attention, but I’m a poseur and all the Muppet love in the world can’t make an album innovative or objectively meritorious; did I perhaps build my hopes too high only to find yet another band trying to be either Ulcerate or Agalloch?

Turns out I didn’t set my hopes anywhere near high enough; though I likely would have shamelessly gobbled up anything charred, what I got instead was a trvly exquisite obsidian morsel, unique and addicting in its own right whilst drawing favorable comparisons to such purveyors of blackened excellence as Soothsayer and Amestigon, among dark others. One could call this atmospheric black metal, but make no mistake: this isn’t dance-through-the-tears Deafheaven-core, but rather a super-massive black hole of bleak moods and murderous soundscapes which evoke all the best negative imagery a Muppet could hope for. “Extension to Nothingness” maybe a touch more Drudkh-ian than the rest of Unsettling Whispers, but even this much is done in a Blood in Our Wells manner, as opposed to the Mirrors in Our Navels way of Drudkh-ing things, and never does it relinquish any of the pitch-black savagery replete throughout the album. Gaerea crawl and claw their way through doom, death metal, sludge, and all manner ov malevolent metal-ings as they seethe through 42 minutes of blackened majesty, and the end result is more varied and ambitious than anything I can recall black metal giving us this year.

Unsettling Whispers opens with unsettling whispers and a delightfully dour buildup of brooding ambiance, walking a thin black line between Soothsayer and Zhrine as “Svn” coalesces into a seething state of violent euphoria with Ulcerate undertones, only for this fury expand further still into the somewhat more traditional blackness of “Absent.” This sense of ebb and flow is crucial to the album, utilized brilliantly between tracks as well as within the songs themselves. “Cycle of Decay” makes particularly tremendous use of this willingness to let the songs explore themselves, slithering between ominous tension and unbridled fury in an ever-shifting tumult which blends stylistic bits of Ancst, Gorguts and Amestigon into just under five minutes of refreshingly original-sounding turmoil. Even among the ambiance and dim post-metal lighting of “Whispers,” Gaerea refuse to sit still for long and for 7 seriously fucking grim tracks this strategy seriously fucking works, but… but…

But fucking nothing. Over a month of spinning the album has yet been unable to shake the freshness of its feel; Unsettling Whispers feels important, as though birthed at that black pinnacle which every generation of metal makes a pilgrimage to in order to crown the next Celtic Frost, Deathspell Omega, or any other obsidian monarch whose works become essential things ov legend. Given the forward-thinking and multifaceted nature of this malignant gem, I’d begrudgingly classify Gaerea‘s sound as progressive-black; Applying viciously grim traditional shrieks to sinister tremolo picking ov olde and dissonant, modern-age blastery with much more nuance than is customary for either, this sophomore effort displays total mastery of all known generations of black metal while pushing its charred history into the future, and suddenly that future looks a whole lot brighter. Or darker. Perspectives and puns will vary, but it is almost certain that Gaerea have created the kind of album that clones are made of, if you wish to be on the right side of history you need to grab this one pretty much immediately.

With the nightmarish atmospheric sensibilities of Celtic Frost, the pummeling violence of Deathspell Omega, the sheer evil of Gorgoroth and a Behemoth ear for headbanging, Gaerea have gathered the souls of black metals most hallowed ov icons and given them somewhere they can finally move on to in Unsettling Whispers. Riffs, dissonance, ambient lulls and apocalyptic levels of aggression… it’s all here, and for once it feels like it’s moving forward. I have been impressed into a state of sans complaint by Unsettling Whispers, and it is only a deep-seated fear of meeting HMG that kept me from 5-ing what I suspect may prove to be a much-needed catalyst for blackened momentum. If this is Gaerea whispering, I can’t fucking wait to see what will come when this Portuguese enigma starts screaming.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: gaerea.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/gearea
Releases Worldwide: June 22nd, 2018

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New York City is a strange dichotomy. Depending on who you ask, you’ll either get mental pictures of Broadway musicals, jazz concerts, the colorfully decorative Times Square, and shopping centers and skyscrapers within a stone’s throw of each other… or you’ll get a grim story of the rampant drug use and homelessness, its long history of violent crimes, and the hopelessness and gritty realities of its citizens that birthed the city’s rap, hardcore, and metal scenes. The thing is, either story would be correct. On their third full-length, Vile Luxury, Imperial Triumphant paints a vivid picture of their city’s duality: shimmering and powerful, yet simultaneously ugly and brutal. In doing so, they also crafted an album that’s the American equivalent to Voices‘ ode to their own home, 2014’s London.

Imperial Triumphant‘s last album, 2015’s Abyssal Gods, was a colossal headfuck of epic proportions, and found itself in my Top Ten(ish) of that year. Abyssal Gods, however, didn’t even begin to prepare me for the sudden curveballs and about-faces Vile Luxury pulled me through. Just like Imperial Triumphant lyrically and even visually pulls from their city’s lineage, the further dives into jazz (as made apparent on their Inceste EP from 2016) increase their separation from the throngs of bands ripping off Deathspell Omega. In truth, you can say they’ve pulled as much (if not more) influence from John Coltrane and Miles Davis as they have DsO and Gorguts. That fact becomes relevant as soon as “Swarming Opulence” kicks off, with horns blaring a dark, somber interlude, giving the album a sense of regal superiority before the band lurches forth, with Ilya’s trademark cavernous growls and angular riffs cutting around him while Kenny Grohowski blasts, barrels, and stops on a dime, taking what is already chaotic and propelling it all to unforeseen levels of batshit insanity.

As Vile Luxury progresses, the double-takes become borderline neck-snapping. “Gotham Luxe” plays off almost like a diseased waltz that would have fit Eyes Wide Shut‘s infamous group sex scene, being both lurid enough to gain one’s attention while being so depraved that you can’t help from looking away (but wanting to all the same). “Chernobyl Blues” starts off innocuously enough, with shimmery, shiny feedback, slowly played drums, Ilya growling quietly, but then devolves into blastbeats, razor-sharp riffing, and Ilya trading off growls while Bloody Panda‘s Yoshiko Ohara shrieks and screeches. Elsewhere, penultimate track “The Filth” misleads you into a sense of calm and closure, complete with Andromeda Anarchia’s operatic wailing, before pulling you further into the abyss.

Once again, Colin Marston’s production and mixing scores a home run for the band, somehow balancing the chaos with instrumental clarity. Newcomer Steve Blanco’s bass never once feels buried or muted, the horns blare with a crystal-like shine, and the drums retain their power throughout. Even more impressive is Imperial Triumphant‘s ability to build tension and drama. When “Chernobyl Blues” closes out, with Ohara’s screeches growing louder and more distorted, the band and Marston felt that “Cosmopolis” should have a few seconds of quiet immediately after. That feeling is akin to watching a horribly violent crime scene play out fully and watching it end abruptly with a false sense of calm before the insanity begins anew. It’s moments like this that kept me coming back for more. If there was a nitpick, closer “Luxury in Death” doesn’t quite hit the same notes the other seven songs hit, but that’s exactly that… a nitpick.

In a year that has honestly let me down on a musical level, Imperial Triumphant scored big with Vile Luxury. But truth be told, the year could have been rich in musical treasures, and Vile Luxury still would have dwarfed the fuck out of the vast majority of releases. Ugly yet regal, diseased yet extravagant, Vile Luxury unearths new gems on each successive replay. May Imperial Triumphant‘s reign of weirdness continue unabated.

 

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 160 kbps mp3
Labels: Gilead Media (NA) | Throatruiner Records (EU)
Websites: imperialtriumphant.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/imperialtriumphant
Releases Worldwide: July 13th, 2018

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If the conversations I’ve seen on the interwebs are any indication, 2018 hasn’t been the greatest year for metal. In that regard, Allfather’s new album should come with an apology. Sorry for breaking your fucking necks, the sticker would read. But we had to remind you what good metal is all about. This British quintet already ravaged my eardrums with their 2016 debut Bless the Earth with Fire, which basically sounded like High on Fire infused with hardcore swagger and a whole lot of whoop-ass. In other words, that album brought the fucking RIFFS. But it also had enough memorable songs and incendiary conviction to make Allfather one of the most promising new bands I heard that year. Sophomore album And All Will Be Desolation reveals the true nature of that promise: to make an album so heavy, it will rip your face off and make the rest of your body implode like a black hole.

You know those parts of songs that come maybe once or twice an album? Those parts you fast forward to so you can show them to your friends? I’d tell you to imagine an album full of those, but Desolation makes it so you don’t have to. Take the best parts of High on Fire and Crowbar, add in some hardcore punk energy, punch yourself in the face, and that’ll give you some idea of what Allfather are about. These seven tracks deal in burly riffs, rocking attitude, and stomping groove that could put Mantar out of business. Factor in the gruff roars of vocalist “Tom”¹ and you have a formula that any red-blooded metal fan is sure to enjoy.

Opener “Black Triangle” begins with an extended acoustic intro before electric guitars slam in like a cinderblock to the skull. Between its melodic verse riff, doomy midsection, and crushing grooves, it’s a powerful start that showcases Allfather’s dynamic blend of sludge and hardcore. “Citadels” follows with a thrashy, cruising riff before concluding with what’s possibly the most headbangable two minutes ever recorded. Doctors agree: if you don’t bob your head to this section, you are legally dead.² The riffs and groove here are downright monolithic, and it’s made all the better by what are possibly the most metal lyrics ever: “Instead of burning bridges/And raising citadels/We should be burning flags/And raising fucking hell!”

As “Citadels” shows, it’s not just the riffs that make Desolation succeed. Often the drums will shift into different beats over the same riff, changing the feel and maximizing neck snapping potential. Likewise, the album has plenty of variety and impeccable flow. “Lord Betrayer” and “Jackal’s Night” are shorter, snappy cuts with fist-pumping refrains, while “By Sword, By Famine, By Plague” recalls Black Sabbath’s eponymous song with its doom metal-turned-bouncy rocker formula. “Inherit the Dust” mixes it up further with its Southern-fried doom metal approach, sounding like if Saturnus had a younger brother who moved to New Orleans and rented the same practice space as Eyehategod. It’s a welcome change that sets the scene for the colossal 11-minute closer “Lampedusa.” Beginning with a folky opening that recalls an old sea shanty, “Lampedusa” shuffles through rocking riffs before concluding with triumphant chords and climaxing with a guitar solo that could rock the heavens. Through it all, the clear production makes the guitars roar with life and ensures every riff is conveyed with full unapologetic force.

My only complaints here are quibbles — the acoustic interlude of “Black Triangle” is unnecessary and hinders the song’s buildup, and the lumbering first half of “By Sword” goes on a tad too long. But even in these moments, a great idea is always right around the corner. Listening to Desolation is like someone shoving a power drill into every orifice and turning them all on simultaneously, and I mean that in the best way possible. At once explosive and smoldering, Allfather have improved upon their already excellent formula by making things more energetic, more memorable, and more of a blast to listen to than anything else I’ve heard this year. Normally I’d namedrop similar bands and tell fans of them to check this out. In this case, my recommendation is more simple: any metal fan needs to hear this, because And All Will Be Desolation could very well be the best metal album we see in 2018.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Rotting Throne Records
Websites: allfather1.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/allfathermetaluk
Releases Worldwide: September 7th, 2018

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I, Dr. Fisting, am back—but much more importantly, so is Voivod. After suffering a near-fatal blow with the death of founding guitarist Denis “Piggy” D’Amour in 2005, these Canadian legends are experiencing an unlikely renaissance with new axeman Dan Mongrain (ex-Martyr). 2013’s Target Earth was the best thing the band had done in decades, and the follow-up EP Post Society took the band’s music in an even more progressive direction. With this momentum established, The Wake seems positioned to expand Voivod‘s musical world once more.

Leadoff track/first single “Obsolete Beings” is simultaneously thrashy, psychedelic, and weird—in other words, all things a Voivod song should be. However, things get considerably more intriguing on the “The End of Dormancy.” The track begins innocently enough, with a Phobos-era death march of a riff eventually giving way to some absurdly technical soloing. From there, a section appears straight out of Holst’s The Planets, including a goddamn orchestra and timpani players. Frontman Denis “Snake” Belanger rises to the occasion, augmenting his usual bellow with some choral arrangements and even a somewhat theatrical spoken-word bit towards the end. This song may well be Voivod‘s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and is in many ways the most ambitious thing they have ever done.

“Orb Confusion” is the flip side of that coin, with the band dishing out hyper-dissonant tech-thrash and Snake belting it out like it’s a Ramones song—the “na na na” bits in the chorus are fucking ridiculous, and yet they work perfectly. While Mongrain may well be the musical architect of The Wake, Snake is easily its most valuable player. This record is his most energetic vocal performance in forever, and he’s taking chances with his technique that few of his peers would even attempt at this point.

The string section reappears on several other tracks, and its inclusion is perhaps the most notable aspect of Voivod‘s latest evolution. The band has always had an orchestral element to its sound, blatantly homaging Stravinsky and Shostakovich in their early years, so incorporating the real thing is, if anything, long overdue. It’s a testament to Voivod‘s talent that they were able to do so convincingly and seamlessly, while so many of their contemporaries could not. Founding drummer Michel “Away” Langevin also delivers a command performance here, navigating the many twists and turns of “Event Horizon” and dishing out pseudo-blast beats on “Iconspiracy” like a man half his age. Away is also responsible for all of Voivod’s album artwork, and the cover for The Wake is a huge improvement from his art on the previous two records. New bassist Dominic “Rocky” LaRoche (who replaced founding member Blacky on Post Society) makes his presence known as well, whether he’s playing higher melodies on “Spherical Perspectives” or grinding out the counterpoint to Chewy’s space madness riffage on “Always Moving.”

The album concludes with “Sonic Mycelium,” a 12-minute medley that revisits several musical themes that occurred earlier on the album, as well as a verse from 1993’s “Jack Luminous” for good measure. Yes, it’s gratuitous, but it reinforces the album as being a single work, rather than a collection of songs. While The Wake may lack a standout track such as “We Are Connected” (the very best song of the Mongrain era thus far, for my money), it’s also more cohesive and consistently engaging as a whole than Target Earth was.

Thirty-five years in, Voivod is riding a wave of creativity that would have seemed all but impossible a decade ago. Mongrain and Laroche are meticulous in preserving the band’s classic sound but are unafraid of exploring new musical territory. Not to be outdone by the new guys, Belanger and Langevin have stepped up their game considerably as well. Having carried on without both Piggy and Blacky, Voivod might be less a collection of specific people now, and more of an idea of how music should sound. And to paraphrase V For Vendetta, ideas are bulletproof.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media
Websites: voivod.com | facebook.com/voivod
Releases Worldwide: September 21st, 2018

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Rare is the band that truly sounds like no one else. Either standing on the shoulders of giants, or innovating their way to hundreds of copycats, few have no comparable peers, followers, or ancestors. Madder Mortem, also known as Norway’s best-kept secret, are one of those bands. With their idiosyncratic sound, an avant-garde mixture of alternative, gothic and progressive metal, and frontwoman Agnete Kirkevaag’s signature blend of ragged screams and sultry smooth croon, the band is nearing 20 years of existence, yet never gained a large audience. 2016’s excellent Red in Tooth and Claw finally started making some waves for the quintet, upon which they now hope to capitalize with Marrow, an album constructed around the central theme of inner strength.

After the more accessible RiTaC, longtime fans may have feared that the band would commercialize the uniqueness out of their sound. Those fans may breathe a sigh of relief; Marrow is darker, denser and grimier than its predecessor, a throwback to their older Deadlands sound. Its added heaviness comes from a sense of controlled chaos. The title track’s chorus crashes like an avalanche of guitars and cymbals around Agnete’s defiant wail. Sharply undulating leads from the guitar on “Liberator” and “White Snow, Red Shadows” add an urgency that sounds desperate, particularly on the latter where Agnete’s voice hurries as much as the instruments, running headlong through the unrelenting flow of the track. The unpredictable anti-religion track “My Will Be Done” showcases the brilliantly layered compositions, different textures rising and falling like unstoppable waves over a shifting foundation.

But Madder Mortem’s strongest quality has always been their emotional core, so beautifully represented by Agnete’s powerful voice. “Until You Return” is a flawless example that has her switching between a lonely gentleness with her croon that sounds like a heartbroken ’20s lounge jazz singer, screaming in confused despair during chaotic barrages, and tugging on the heartstrings during the final dramatic harmony. The song also showcases the smart production, deftly weaving focus from guitars to bass, and layering grit, static and distortion on the torrents while cleaning the more benign sections up to increase the dynamics and contrast of the compositions. Between the punchy drums, the gritty guitars and the colossal bass, the entire album sounds as impressive as it does oppressive.

If any weak spot must be gleaned from Marrow, it’s the final two tracks, of which “Stumble On” is slightly less impactful than the others, and at first glance, “Waiting to Fall” is a tad overlong and less memorable. But neither comes close to boring; “Waiting,” in particular, is the darkest and most desperate track on the album, going right for the jugular with its sledgehammer riff and throat-tearing vocal harmonies. Though its hooks are less immediate, an attentive listen reveals the raw despair, the track title underlining the prevailing feeling of standing at a cliff edge with no way back. The defiance dissipates and leaves nothing but hopelessness, a disturbing reminder that not all find inner strength in their darkest times.

Marrow seems to say misfortune is where you may find your core. Across the running time, a ray of defiant light shines like a thread, but it’s steeped in deep emotional turmoil, in loss and pain. It’s dark ending brutally but truthfully suggests that some people never recover from the trauma that makes others grow stronger. Despondency crashes into despair and the music washes forth through it all like a destructive tidal wave. It is fitting for Madder Mortem at this point in time. As they finally begin to see some of the recognition they deserve, they have not given in to the temptation to go the easy route. They stay true to their core, ripping their hearts from their chest and laying them bare to the world, with a dark and deeply intimate album so full of craftsmanship and passion it pours out at the edges. Marrow is unforgettable.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: maddermortem.bandcamp.com | maddermortem.com | facebook.com/mmortem
Releases Worldwide: September 21st, 2018

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Steel Druhm reviewing a one-man atmospheric black metal album? How can this be happening? Does Vardan have him by the short back hairs? Did he get triple ape dared by that trickster, Muppet? No siree, Bob. Steel is reviewing the new Eneferens album because of what it is and what it is not. It is the product of one man named Jori Apedaileman, and it is an absolutely beautiful work of art spanning black, death, folk, post-metal and doom as effortlessly as I skip over metalcore in the promo slump. The Bleakness of Our Constant is that rare album that takes in many influences and uses them as fodder to create something special and unique. It’s way more atmospheric than blackened; more A Swarm of the Sun than Agalloch, but the overall blend of styles is impressively conceived and executed with great care and skill, resulting in an album of striking beauty, grace and depth. THAT’S why I’m here. Why are you here?

Opening with the gorgeous instrumental, “Leave,” the stage is set with somber, melancholic guitar-work in line with later era Anathema crossed with Insomnium at their most downtrodden. Emotion drips off every note as the guitar trills and weaves gentle tapestries through the ether, building to a satisfying denouement. If you’re going to do an instrumental opener, this is how you do it, kids. Then things erupt with black metal blasting as “This Onward Reach” surges to life like an angry titan rising from the depths of a turbulent sea. Nods to Emperor and Aeternus are present in the black metal presentation, but just as the music reaches full boil, things fall back toward restrained, depressive territory as Jori’s haunting clean vocals come to the fore, recalling the work of Erik Nilsson (Aoria, Swarm of the Sun) and whomever sings for Deathwhite. The remainder of the 7-minute monsterpiece plays out in this sullen, introspective headplace, part post-metal, part doom and it’s lush and stunning all the way, adorned with refined flamenco guitar work and soaring harmonies. This cut delivers a train load of the feelz all at once, all for you.

The album takes a lot of twists and turns, all well thought out and contributing to a strangely effective ebb and flow. The classic melodeath styling of “Amethyst” sounds like something Rapture could have written, but quickly give way to bleak, plaintive vocals and delicate guitar-work that tears at your heart with its beauty and vulnerability. “Awake” is all sadboy doom, with exquisitely forlorn vocals laid over tastefully morose melodies with an Anathema vibe. When the song punches up to the next level, it really takes flight and soars on the wings of ravens, with Jori’s perfectly placed high-pitched wails creating a striking moment. The man even tries his hand at mammoth funeral doom on “Weight of the Mind’s Periapt,” and lo and behold, it works, sounding like Swallow the Sun and Agalloch co-wrote it after attending a series of funerals for close friends.

At just under 43 minutes with 7 selections, there’s not much fat or chaff here. Several songs run over 7 minutes, but none feel long, which is the sign you’re dealing with a master craftsman. His long-form writing style reminds me of Marius Strand’s work with A Fall For Every Season and that’s high praise. The production is quite good for a one-man outing too. The guitars are crisp and clear but carry great weight when needed. Jori’s vocals are prominently placed, a bit pulled back when he’s singing, then pushed forward when it’s time for his blackened croaks or deathly roaring. This works well and gives the highly impressive guitar-work plenty of room to shine. And shine does it ever.

Jori is an impressive vocalist and his voice has just the right amount of dour fragility. His extreme vocals are also quite impressive, especially when paired with funeral doom tempos. As a guitarist he’s even more remarkable, filling the album with dazzling melodies and harmonies rivaling the fret-work on most SIG:AR:TYR albums. Every song has head shaking moments of string-borne beauty, and at times this almost feels like sullen Christmas music, and I think that’s grand.

The soundtrack to this winter’s depression has arrived and it packs enough despair for countless months of dark, isolated rumination. The sheer quality of this thing sent me scrambling to Bandcamp to buy everything this guy ever did, and that’s a rare phenomenon of an old crank like me. This is way out in front for my Record o’ the Year and I can’t say enough good things about it, though I certainly tried. Do not miss this in-depth reflection on the beauty in darkness and suffering. This one is special.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: EU: Nordvis Produktions | NA: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: eneferens.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/eneferens
Releases Worldwide: October 26th, 2018

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Surprise! Today we’re giving you an AngryMetalGuy.com first: an exclusive song premiere! You may have heard the news that Swedish progressive metallers Soen will release Lotus on the 1st of February, 2019 on Silver Lining Music. Well, I’m incredibly stoked to present to you with two exclusives today. First, we have an exclusive listen to album’s first single “Rival” embedded here. Furthermore, to give this song premiere that distinctive AMG feel you’ll find my full length, in-depth review of Lotus below.

Pre-sale starts on November 16th, 2018 and the record is available on CD with a gorgeous digipack and as a deluxe 180-gram vinyl that sports an exceptional, dedicated vinyl master. You can also purchase a digital download, and the album has been Mastered for iTunes. Check the label website, or any of Soen‘s sites [Facebook, Twitter, Instagram] for more details.

Now, without further ado: “Rival” from Lotus.

I don’t usually listen to new albums with the band sitting in the room. But my first time through Soen‘s forthcoming album Lotus was just like that. We—most of the band and I—gathered in a Stockholm studio to hear David Castillo’s final master for the first time. I had Martin Lopez, Soen‘s drummer and primary songwriter on a couch behind me and to my right. Next to him on the couch, behind me and to my left, sat the gifted Lars Åhlund—the band’s keyboardist.¹ Stationed firmly in my left blind spot was vocalist Joel Ekelöf, while bassist Stefan Stenberg sat to my left at about 10 o’clock. Only the band’s new guitarist—the unheralded Canadian, Cody Ford—was in absentia. The set up was simple: studio monitors at ear-height angled slightly in, some foam on the wall for acoustics, and a laptop with proprietary software for playing back the album’s final master. And I was placed in an IKEA office chair in front of the computer for the perfect listening experience. It was, I admit, a slightly surreal experience.

I have followed Soen‘s career from afar since 2012’s Cognitive and every album has seen them grow. The band’s sound has always been dynamic, with a trademark combination of bass-and-drum-heavy songs and haunting melody. This sound, of course, is the result of the band’s core visionaries: Lopez and Ekelöf, who have graced every record. Soen‘s first album is a (great) love letter to Tool, but the release of Tellurian in 2014 saw the group add bassist Stefan Stenberg and begin to explore a unique modern progressive vibe. 2017’s Lykaia highlighted an analog sound and a more blues-tinged retro feel but was buried alive by a brutal mastering job. And as much as I love the band’s releases, they’ve struggled to deliver an album that fully realized all of the band’s incalculable promise, with production and mastering often obscuring their strengths. This is Soen‘s challenge: can all the pieces come together on Lotus to realize their vision?

Lotus is an album defined by its contrasts. On the one hand, the record has a metal core. The riffing is massive, with an overdriven guitar tone that strongly differentiates it from Lykaia, while drums and bass drive the songs forward. These moments can be straightforward Soen tracks like “Opponent,” but there are moments like a hat-tip to death metal riffing in “Rival” or a proggy ‘awkward headbanging moment’ in “Covenant” that mark Soen as a band with a metal heart. Joel’s clear, brass timbre carries immediate, memorable melodies over the heavier material and lends a live feel to the album. The sense that Soen is writing for the live experience is clearest on “Martyr,” which is reminiscent of Muse with its grand chorus featuring an almost danceable bassline from Stefan Stenberg.

Lotus is also a haunting, fragile album. The album’s softer tracks are no less intense than the heavy material and evoke the work of Pink Floyd (“Lotus”) or Steven Wilson (doing Pink Floyd [“River”]). In the tradition of the heart-wrenching “The Words,” songs like “Lunacy” and “River” ache with loss and pain both lyrically and musically. In these moments, it’s the keys and guitars which bear the delicate, melancholic tone. Åhlund’s choices lend gorgeous details (like the countermelody on the chorus of “Lascivious”) and beds of soft organs. While Ford’s guitar work is the perfect blend of feel and technical skill—evoking David Gilmour in the best possible way again and again (see the stellar solos in “Lotus” and “Lascivious”). Details like the cellos on “Penance” or Ford’s uncanny use of a finger slide on “River,” complement the album’s skillful arrangements and add to its lush sound. Such attention to detail conveys the sense that the band has placed every note precisely where it belongs.

Lotus‘ strength isn’t just in its compositions and arrangements, however; it’s also in the album’s mix and master. The album isn’t just a “balanced mix,” where the “bass is audible.” Instead, David Castillo and Iñaki Marconi combined to deliver an album that is a great listen—even at a DR7. The master is loud, but the album is expertly mixed. Particularly notable, for example, are details like string buzz on Stenberg’s bass and ghost notes on Lopez’s drums. Lopez’s custom kit—with its incredible tone—shines throughout and when the rhythm section is combined, it anchors the mix. Joel’s vocals sound better than ever, as well. His voice has a crystal clear—and relatively dry—sound, that is notable for eschewing the prominent vocal beds from previous albums. Still, the harmonies aren’t gone—they’re just mixed down further, giving an immediacy and prominence to Ekelöf’s voice. Lotus crests into special when Ford’s stellar tone and immaculate feel are added to this sonic menagerie, making it all feel cohesive. And while the CD and digital mixes are great, the vinyl master is exceptional; balanced, airy and it highlights the album’s contrasts with alacrity.

Lotus is a complete album because it balances Soen‘s contrasts and unifies them into a sound that is more than the sum of its parts. The peaks and valleys are not exclusive to each other; they define each other. Compositions snap into place, and Soen delivers song after excellent song. The album’s 54 minutes flow by quickly and it has an addictive quality, with the closing tones making me want to start listening again. Everything—from the songwriting to the mix to the album’s packaging—seems to have aligned to encapsulate Soen‘s unique vision. There’s a palpable sense on Lotus that Soen has challenged itself to deliver perfection and the album feels like an example of a band that’s striving for growth and maturing together. The attention to detail, the interplay between the musicians, and the increasingly unique sound that Soen has developed, all point to Soen truly hitting stride on Lotus. So while perfection is only possible to assess retrospectively, Soen is getting dangerously close to realizing that goal.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 7 (CD) or 12 (Vinyl) | Formats Reviewed: PCM
Label: Silver Lining Records
Websites: soenmusic.com | facebook.com/soenmusic
Releases Worldwide: February 1st, 2019

The post Soen – “Rival” Premiere and Lotus Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Every reviewer asks the question of why great bands would put out anticipated records right at the end of the year. I’ve done that too, especially because that was my first reaction to the announcement of Sulphur Aeon’s The Scythe of Cosmic Chaos, the follow-up to Gateway to the Antisphere (also known as “the Best Record ov 2015”). The confusion stems from Top Ten lists being ready to go anywhere from October to early December, along with the fact that we tend to think everyone is obsessed with them as we reviewers are. They’re not, and Sulphur Aeon fans will just be stoked that new music from their favorite Cthulhu-themed melodic death metal act is here. Those unaware will be exposed to it through other means: recommendations from friends, trawling the web for new music, reviews written by some philosophy nerd; that sort of thing. No need to fret after all! There is need to celebrate though, because Sulphur Aeon has returned from the deep to bring us more Cthulhu and, most importantly, riffs.

Sulphur Aeon sounds like what would happen if you put Dawn of Disease and Necrophobic in a room and asked them to record something like Gateways to Annihilation. Both bands would have to be at their prime: Dawn of Disease would provide the burliness and the huge melodies, while Necrophobic would provide an icy touch, less straightforward structures, and would temper and fetter the saccharine nature of Dawn of Disease’s melodic ambitions. This is winding, burly death metal with a great ear for melody; what dissonance is for Immolation, minor-key consonance is for Sulphur Aeon.

Like mozzarella sticks with a cold pint as an appetizer, “Cult of Starry Wisdom” starts things off right. An instantly recognizable lumbering, melodic, monolithic riff—Sulphur Aeon’s main asset—kicks in after some watery ambiance. M. enters in with some surprising clean vocals, which fit well and sound like something Blaze of Perdition or Maniac-era Mayhem would use. The chorus is built around a stunner of a melody, undergirded by D.’s hefty, active drums. An expansive and effective lead closes the song out, making for a flawless six minutes. “Lungs into Gills” begins on what may be the melo-death riff of the year, an incredible amalgam of chugging and harmony. There are some huge riffs in a Bolt Thrower sense here, and large part of what makes Sulphur Aeon so compelling is their mastery of both huge melodies and crushing riffs. The music, in this sense, portrays the deep, dark, depths of the ocean expertly: vast, crushing, expansive, terrifying, beautiful. Closing number “Thou Shalt Not Speak His Name (The Scythe of Cosmic Chaos)” reflects this, and the same gut-punch I got from the melodies in Gateway’s “He is the Gate” occurred again here.

I like Gateway to the Antisphere slightly more than The Scythe of Cosmic Chaos. The reasons are wholly arbitrary, a big one one being that there’s no quasi-breakdown like the ending of “Devotion to the Cosmic Chaos” here. The production on Scythe sounds fuller than its predecessor, like a better Zos Kia Cultus. It’s less echo-y than Gateway and their debut, but none of the atmospheric touch of the oceanic depths is lost. “Sinister Sea Sabbath” sees Sulphur Aeon expanding what they would cram into six minutes into nine-and-a-half minutes, leaving more time for the buildup and release of tension, which they fully exploit. Scythe is not a step back, but another step forward; keeping thematically true while subtly introducing new elements is exactly how to progress in a worthwhile way as a band.

The Scythe of Cosmic Chaos is the last new release I’ll be reviewing in 2018. It’s an exhilarating way to cap off the year in writing. The three-record winning streak Sulphur Aeon is now on is nothing short of incredible, and I haven’t been around for anything like it in my time as a metalhead. There’s no way what’s happening here is luck. No, Sulphur Aeon are simply a great band, perhaps the best new band of the 2010s. Listening to The Scythe of Cosmic Chaos, I get the feeling once again that this is the product of a vision coming to fruition, the perfect synthesis of heavy yet melodically accessible metal and Lovecraft’s gift for atmosphere that pervades the Cthulhu mythos. Nothing can convey the horrible majesty of Lovecraft’s most famous literary creation—nothing except Sulphur Aeon’s music.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Van Records
Websites: sulphuraeon.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/sulphuraeon
Releases Worldwide: December 21st, 2018

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Note: AMG Himself previewed and reviewed Lotus back in November, from the comfort/imprisonment of the band’s recording studio. Refer back to that review for his almost fanboyish (although mostly reasonable) gushing. I am here to shine the glare of realism on this album, after having had it in my playlist for the past six weeks.

I first got into Soen on their sophomore effort, Tellurian, which I bought solely because of the excellent cover art.¹ I was more than happy to discover that the music also held up its end of the bargain: yes, the band came across as a Tool knock-off, but a talented and effective one, capable of putting its own spin on this brand of precision-based progressive metal. Lykaia pushed the band’s songwriting in the right direction, but saw them fall short of greatness in two areas: the song order resulted in a poorly-paced album, and the band’s clinical approach, particularly when it came to Joel Ekelöf’s vocals, left me yearning for some emotion. Lykaia was also horribly mastered, an error which the band corrected last September with Lykaia Revisited, which sounded excellent and gave us three live songs to chew on while waiting for Lotus.

I’m happy to say that Lotus quelled all my fears. It’s almost as if Soen could hear my thoughts: the album’s pacing is perfect, and Ekelöf turns in a staggering vocal performance. All the emotion missing on the band’s first three albums shines through here in spades. Nowhere is this more evident than on the beautiful title track, where Ekelöf’s delivery begins in breathy, delicate fashion, gradually strengthening in passion and power as the arrangement unfolds. It’s like if Opeth’s Mikael Åkerfeldt could really, truly sing. The confidence of Ekelöf–and the rest of the band, in fact–is palpable here and throughout Lotus. “Penance” is another vocal highlight, confirming the fact that Ekelöf is no longer “just” a singer; he has matured into the band’s focal point, and a true force.

The band steps up behind Ekelöf, transcending past efforts. Martin Lopez, drummer and founding member, continues to display masterful prowess behind the kit, and aside from the rather odd decision to insert an off-putting wood block in “Rival,” brings the perfect amount of flair and groove to the songs. Stefan Sedberg shows he is one of prog metal’s strongest bassists this side of Justin Chancellor, with the world’s most perfect tone and some serious riffs in songs such as “Lascivious” and the midpoint of “Covenant.” And newly-minted guitarist, Canadian Cody Ford, has no problem sliding in and delivering Soen’s trademark jagged riffs (much like a more refined version of those found on the last Haken album) as well as more nuanced performances and some wonderfully-arranged solos on “Lotus” and “River.” Despite Ford being new (as of 2018) to the band, the group display a sublime level of chemistry throughout Lotus.

This fourth paragraph is where we normally eviscerate some aspect of an album – vocals, production, song quality – but on Lotus, Soen have delivered something that almost defies criticism. My issues with past albums as far as pacing and emotion have been more than taken care of here, as the band delivers its most cohesive, well-arranged, and stunningly performed set yet. The best I can come up with for a nitpick is what the hell were they thinking with that confounded wood block in “Rival?” So, if that’s as much as I can think of, well, there you have it. Even the mastering job is solid. Riff-heavy moments such as the aforementioned “Rival” and “Lascivious” have ample power, while the nuances found within the quieter songs are all airy and breathe well.

Put it all together, and I am happy to report that AMG Himself was fairly dead-on in his assessment of Lotus. Four albums in, Soen have hit their stride, catapulting past being a “pretty good” prog band, giving us an album that is the first truly great record of the year. Well done, boys. Now, for your fifth album, please bring the rhino back.

Rating: Great! No, wait – Excellent! No, wait – argh!²
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Silver Lining Music
Websites: soenmusic.com | soen-sweden.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/SoenMusic/
Releases Worldwide: February 1st, 2019

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