SpiritWorld – Helldorado Review

By Dear Hollow

SpiritWorld’s lone appearance ’round these here parts, like any good vigilante, is an entry in the 2022 AOTY list of then-n00b, now gone-but-never-unforgotten ItchyMenace for sophomore album Deathwestern. But guess what? There’s a new sheriff in town, and he’s mad as hell. So mad, he’ll riff you at sundown in front of the town hall at high noon, so say “yeehaw” and “howdy, pardner,” because that piano’s gon’ stop at the saloon because there’s a fire at the watering hole.1 Out in the desert, there’s a snake with your boot’s name on it and a bullet with your name on it too. So tread lightly, cuz there’s a big black train named SpiritWorld heading straight for your ass – to take you to Helldorado.

All Wild West stereotypes and John Wayne-isms aside, Vegas natives SpiritWorld have been going with the “deathwestern” trope for three albums now. Hardcore punk, thrash, death metal, and country have a hand on their revolver in this five-man shootout, sometimes all at once in an O.K. Corral massacre, sometimes in doses like a hefty shot of laudanum afterwards. Helldorado riffs first and foremost, with kickass and cutthroat Slayer shreds and D.R.I.-inspired hardcore attitude kicking in the saloon door with a steel-toed boot, while a spittoon of experimentalisms are like gooey tobacco made of black metal and jazz. Ultimately, in spite of consistency issues and one-note beatdowns, thanks to SpiritWorld’s utterly batshit ideas and straightforward viciousness, Helldorado is one mighty hell of a good time.

What keeps me coming back to Helldorado is the riffs, SpiritWorld completely surging with adrenaline. Crossover thrash a la D.R.I. gets the riffs going, with heftily constructed beatdowns of speedy Slayer leads (“No Vacancy in Heaven,” “Western Stars & the Apocalypse,” “Waiting on the Reaper”), while more western-themed mid-tempo jaunts laced with gang vocals and meaty breakdowns bring the anvil of brainless mayhem (“Abilene Grime,” “Stigmata Scars”). Compared to its predecessor, Helldorado’s guitar tone is much more nimble, allowing it a cutthroat viciousness and weighted beatdown in equal measure. Vocalist Stu Folsom somehow injects a cowboy accent into his blend of Henry Rollins yells and James Hetfield sneers, always annunciating the lyrics for hardcore callouts.2 Bluesy country-western scales are built into every moment, manifesting in delicious leads, technical shreds, all alongside wailing heavy metal solos that seem to hit at just the right moments – culminating into something that feels a tad like a crossover Pantera. It’s a kick to the groin, and you’ll love every bit of it.

While the previous outing Deathwestern grew old with its overreliance on the chuggy riff, Helldorado changes things up considerably. While the majority of the album only features wild west-sounding melodies, some tracks throw off this structure like a rattlesnake in the boot – it serves to break the monotony of SpiritWorld’s omni-riffage. You’ll first notice the softer country twang that pervades some of the album’s midsection, but its experimental vibes draws comparisons to Kirin J. Callinan’s “Big Enough” (yes, the screaming cowboy song),3 – “Bird Song of Death” and closer “Annihilism” feature rough thrash vocals atop Jason Aldean-esque plucking in an odd concoction, while the whispery vocals and sidewinding sax solo in “Prayer Lips” are sure to turn some heads. “Oblivion” is a curious track, as its ridiculously chunky riffage builds up to a feature of Blackbraid’s Sgah’gahsowáh shrieking atop a thrash riff, later followed up by a punky solo by Rise Against’s Zach Blair. Kreator/Sinsaenum guitarist Frédéric Leclercq contributes a rip-roaring solo to “Stigmata Scars.”

Helldorado is just fun as hell. SpiritWorld’s riffage is front-and-center, but you’ll also be singin’ these songs into the moonlight with a clunky guitar and a cup o’ cowboy coffee, pardner.4 With hell-raisin vocals, kickass riffs, and just enough experimental elements to keep you guessing (or scratching your head), it blows its predecessors out of the watering hole. Sure, in spite of the frivolities, SpiritWorld remains a one-trick pony – but Helldorado ensures they can ride that pony into the sunset.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: spiritworldprophet.bandcamp.com | spiritworldprophet.com
Releases Worldwide: March 21st, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmericanMetal #BlackFlag #Blackbraid #CenturyMediaRecords #ColdChisel #DRI_ #GrooveMetal #Hardcore #HeavyMetal #Helldorado #JasonAldean #KirinJCallahan #Kreator #Mar25 #Metallica #Pantera #Review #Reviews #RiseAgainst #Sinsaenum #Slayer #SpiritWorld #ThrashMetal

Hatchend – Summer of ’69 Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Nice.1 Or maybe you were thinking about the classic Bryan Adams song of the same name? Just what does a title like Summer of ’69 invoke? Maybe your mind raced to throwback stoner rock—nope, sorry. Perhaps the pop art cover took you to a bright, synth-coated land of big choruses and bigger hair? Still wrong, though. Hatchend instead circles about—cobbled of various Swedish extreme acts—waters of punk-loaded, gravel-voiced crossover thrash. And with a handful of riffs, one song structure, and an urge to throw arms, these crusty hooligans have birthed Summer of ’69. There was a pit at Woodstock, right?2

True to the classic ideals that the aged title represents, Hatchend delivers punky banger after punky banger with just about zero frills. In this lane of sonic fury, fueled by the likes of hardcore/crossover icons like Discharge and D.R.I., it can be hard to deliver a collection that iterates on the already basic structure that the style holds. Guitarist Elis Edin Markskog knows well from his main act, Birdflesh, that a little fluff and feather-ruffling can add a memorable edge to your act. Still, Hatchend seems to eschew most of that letting some mildly abrasive names apply surface wounds to the audience’s eyes (“Bloodthirsty Degenerate,” “A Fierce Scalpel Menace”). Other acts that find no charge in silly or serious messaging instead fly by the power of intensity of tone and delivery. And while Kalle Nimhagen’s (Deathening) death metal-leaning bark supplies a tactile mic spray, it also starts to beg the question of whether Hatchend really has more to offer than a tightly executed tune.

Hatchend kicks off every song of this eight-pack with all the right hooky hammers. When you’re a crossover act of the Municipal Waste variety, that first five to ten seconds of glory only have to hit hard enough to keep the fire burning. Hammering cymbal counts (“Shackled Humanity,” “Scape Goat”), full power riffage (“A Fierce Scalpel Menace,” “Feed This Emptiness”), and hyper-aggressive bass thumpage (“Who’s the Foe Today?”) all weight heavy in Summer’s arsenal of distorted charms. However, with each song being of a longer runtime, in the three to five-minute range, these mostly effective plays can’t carry enough energy into the verses and choruses and blast breaks that feel largely interchangeable between each track.

To make the menagerie of power chord shuffles even more of an indistinguishable hum, Hatchend heaves mix balance to the wayside in a bass-forward presentation that is beyond crusty. Despite the reputation that some of thrash metal’s bigger names may push, thick and leading bass rattling leads the charge in celebrated acts like Overkill or Nuclear Assault. And even in the hardcore lane that inspires this conversation more, Discharge and the like hold a respectable and flashy bass performance at the heart of their aggression—one that is heard and felt alongside all else. But Hatchend has chosen the path of the bulldozer with Dan Bengtsson’s (Pyramido, ex-Crowpath) volume-gorged bass running so wide it near negates the need for the rhythm guitar to even exist. Markskog is far from a slouch on the six, and with a real dialed ear, his riffs run bluesy, playful—and he gets a few moments to break through when there’s a little less on the board. But the choice to bury the guitars in a bassy grave robs Markskog’s performance of nuance.

Hatchend’s thirty-minute first impression struggles to break through the established lineage of thrashers, punks, and their predecessors. Overloud and under-expressed, the band’s sound lacks clarity. Summer of ’69 falls short of telling a compelling story, neither warm enough to be fanciful nor abrasive enough to embrace nihilism. It does, however, achieve the goal of being a burst of high-tempo mosh energy should you need it. With the pedigree of the manic minds who have brought forth plenty of extreme music before, I would expect no less. Unfortunately, I was also hopeful for more.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Selfmadegod Records | Bandcamp
Website: facebook.com/hatchendofficial
Releases Worldwide: August 23rd, 2024

#20 #2024 #Aug24 #Birdflesh #CrossoverThrash #CrustPunk #DBeat #DRI_ #Discharge #Hardcore #Hatchend #MunicipalWaste #NuclearAssault #Overkill #Review #Reviews #SummerOf69 #SwedishMetal #ThrashMetal

Dissimulator – Lower Form Resistance Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

“My name is Clyde, and I arrive from beyond with terrible news.”

I’ll never forget the Wednesday that I saw the future. Bag, coffee, keys, phone, wallet in tow, I stepped to the porch as I’d done countless times, but down the path I saw staring back at me what appeared to be a Russian tortoise. With its gaze intense as one who had seen a thousand lifetimes, a small pneumatic lift carried and affixed the anguished being at eye level. I could see the morning sun glistening against titanium stitches in a war-torn shell and claws attached to arms for defense. A holograph appeared in front of me—a memory. Clyde cried out in anguish as a limp and head-cracked Ferox lay splayed out, beside him a paperboard sleeve that read simply Dissimulator Lower Form Resistance. Without language my mind began ringing.

“He’s dead. Ferox—my best friend—is dead. You must warn him.”
“Of what?” my thoughts raced.
“Let me show you.”

A ticking cymbal turned my head to the left. I was transported into a wasteland of contorted, lifeless bodies. My breathing intensified as a sick ass riff coursed through me. My black slacks turned to faded and shredded jorts. I could feel the gentle breeze against my freshly exposed arms, the rest of my upper body covered only by a sleeveless, tattered tee that read Whiplash.

“The ‘Neural Hack’ is complete. Now you know. Ferox has passed into a Coma of Souls. This is his Punishment for Decadence. He once thought the riff was his home, but it came to be his Nemesis. Warn him. Save him. Study the riff. Learn its angles.”

Clyde left me and Lower Form Resistance continued on repeat.

I’d encountered ripping thrash before, much of which had sounded in some way like Dissimulator. However, many quirks accompany the crossover-leaning tempo shifts that threaten necks across Lower Form Resistance (“Warped,” “Hyperline Underflow”)—the words progressive and rhythmically frantic come to mind. Philippe Boucher (Beyond Creation, Chthe’ilist) commands his kit with domineering precision, with blackened blasts giving way to skanky pit rolls (“Automoil & Robotoil”) and cymbal strikes signaling massive propulsion (“Neural Hack,” “Lower Form Resistance”). And riding right alongside his wild and dynamic snare, Antoine Daigneault (Atramentus, Chthe’ilist) plunks noodling runs behind spacious chord strikes (“Warped”) and furious pops behind galloping kick lines (“Cybermorphism / Mainframe”). Moments pass where the maelstrom seems to be nearing a steady. But it’s never long before one of these two dastardly players intensify the platform on which the mighty riff leans, turning a snappy stumble into frenzied and tackling strut.

Yes, ultimately, Lower Form Resistance thrives on the frightening, contentious, riff. Claude Leduc (Atramentus, Chthe’ilist), knowing this tool’s power to be both over-leveraged and under-thought, never shies away from breaking character with a Voivod-ian bright chord clamor (“Cybermorphism / Mainframe,” “Lower Form Resistance) or squealing hot lead lick. Similarly, Leduc manipulates the mic with both digital, vocoder-like screenings1 and a hurdling, deathy growl that dips toe into forceful, blackened realms2 on a dime (“Automoil & Robotoil”). Even when the vocals stray into cleaner, prog-borrowing croons, it’s in accentuation of elated cries or slippery slow downs, never quite overstaying welcome. Possessing the ability to wrap lengthy banger in whammy echoes (“Outer Phase”) or escalate creeping scale weeping into hairpin-turn tumult (“Cybermorphism / Mainframe”), Dissimulator makes every movement feel fresh with campy thrash and sci-fi exuberance.

“Clyde, the secret is to maintain a careful bend at the knee, a thoughtful crouch, one arm swinging back, one arm swinging forward as you enter the Thrash Zone.”

As my eyes opened back to the world and this message made its way to present-day Ferox, a smile came to Clyde‘s weathered visage. The proud tortoise began to dissolve back into, presumably, a happier timeline. Dissimulator challenges the energy that technical death-thrash leaders Revocation and Cryptic Shift bring to the masses while also standing vibrantly beside the timelessness of the thrash titans to whom they’ve written this love letter. It’s understandable, then, that Lower Form Resistance hits with heavy-handed nostalgia, grips with tension-testing songwriting, and lands with enough momentum to sweep the floor from under your feet. If you’ve listened and persevered, hold tight to the thrash rager that now sits hot in your catalog. And if you haven’t? Consider this a warning and brace for impact.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: 20 Buck Spin | Bandcamp3
Website: facebook.com/dissimulatorofficial
Releases Worldwide: January 26th, 2024

#20BuckSpin #2024 #40 #CanadianMetal #ComaOfSouls #Coroner #CrossoverThrash #CrypticShift #DRI_ #DeathThrash #Dissimulator #Jan24 #Kreator #LowerFormResistance #Nemesis #Obliveon #PunishmentForDecadence #Review #Reviews #Revocation #TechnicalThrashMetal #ThrashMetal #ThrashZone #Voivod #Whiplash