Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review

By Andy-War-Hall

The mystic, the subliminal, the macabre: the fixings of good black metal and the bread and butter of Armenian pagans Ildaruni. Four years ago, they entered the blackened sphere with their debut Beyond Unseen Gateways, a folk-infused take on black metal that, while promising in several regards, felt bloated and unfocused. Its pagan, medieval-y acoustic passages felt tacked on, lethargic and a bit hokey, and I think Ildaruni agree with my assessment, as this year’s Divinum Sanguinem ditches the lutes and stuff for “a more tenebrous and ferocious black metal path.” At nine songs and 53 minutes, Divinum Sanguinem is yet another considerable offering from Ildaruni. Will this one prove more vital than the last?

This time, Ildaruni ain’t faffing about;1 Divinum Sanguinem is out for blood. Second-wave styling permeates Divinum Sanguinem, but without its typical murk. Utterly furious tremolo riffs and blast beats abound, wrought to vicious effect on songs like “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” while Narek Avedyan’s burly shrieks command the calamity into a lean, focused undertaking. This is black metal of a riff-centric nature, Immortal-like, but with the odd Bathory military march (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”) and chant (“Zurvan Akrane”) to instill a greater sense of grandeur into Iladruni’s palette. Riffs are a’plenty, but it’s drummer Arthur Poghosyan who steals the show, just crushing the blasts on every song and layering everything with impressive symbol work. Divinum Sanguinem is a hefty record, but unlike Beyond Unseen Gateways, it isn’t bogged down with momentum-killing diversions. Exemplified on “Divinum Sanguinem”—where all eight minutes of imperial procession feel, bombastic dynamics and eerie bridges feel critical and purposeful—Divinum Sanguinem is lean, mean and blackened as anything.

Ildaruni hold a workman-like commitment to evil. There’s an Emperor-like dark majesty to Divinum Sanguinem, though Ildaruni forgo synths and orchestras for grandiose guitar leads to accomplish this (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” “Divinum Sanguinem”). Thrash riffs grace “Zurvan Akrane” beside metalface-inducing chugs on “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “Arcane Sermon,” and even instances of Qanun (“Scorching Pathways to Samachi”)2 and bagpipe (“Forged with Glaive and Blood”)3 add to the sinister feel of Divinum Sanguinem. Similarly, the various instances of choir (“Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone,” “Arcane Sermon” and “Scorching Pathways to Samachi”),4 chant and clean singing (“Divinum Sanguinem”)5 add dimensions to the vocal front of Ildaruni, breaking from the incessant shrieks but not from its malignancy. Pagan folk elements from Iladruni’s previous work remain, but are relegated to folkish distorted guitar leads (and bagpipes) to keep from clashing with the breakneck nature of Divinum Sanguinem. Sometimes ritualistically ominous (“Divinum Sanguinem”) and frequently hostile (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”), Ildaruni crafted something pointedly dark with Divinum Sanguinem.

But Ildaruni play a limited, well-trodden style, and Divinum Sanguinem is stretched too thin to inspire frequent replay. While Divinum Sanguinem’s songs feature brief moments of differentiation, the near constant tremolos, blast beats and shrieks that encompass the majority of most tracks lose their lustre with use. If a song doesn’t immediately open with trems and blasts, like on “Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone” or “Zurvan Akrane,” rest assured that they’ll reemerge before the verse, still competently played but with little melodic variation between them all, losing effect with overexposure. The near-uniformity of Ildaruni’s track lengths adds to this sense of sameness, as songs seem to go through the same or similar motions for similar amounts of time, which doesn’t bode well for memorability. An exception to this trend, “Immersion into Empyrean”— with its mid-paced tempo and open arpeggios—is borderline catchy and provides a stark illustration of how one-note much of the rest of the album is. Ildaruni are all business here, but there’s too much business on Divinum Sanguinem and not enough variety, novelty or abundance of hooks to make getting through it consistently engaging.

Though Divinum Sanguinem is marred by considerable songwriting issues, it still marks considerable improvement for Ildaruni and proves there’s a future for the band. When it works, Divinum Sanguinem is a powerhouse of a record, both atmospheric and immediate. When Ildaruni’s tricks run dry, however, it becomes too easy to let the music slip into the background. Perhaps genre diehards will get more out of the album than I did, but I found myself losing interest too often to offer it high marks. Still, if you’re in the market for black metal that riffs hard, you could do a lot worse than Divinum Sanguinem.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: ildaruni.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Ildaruni | instagram.com/ildaruni
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#25 #2025 #armenianMetal #bathory #blackLionRecords #blackMetal #divinumSanguinem #emperor #ildaruni #immortal #nov25 #review #reviews

Antinoë – The Fold Review

By Tyme

As the whispering winds of winter begin to blow colder through my neck of the woods, a time of year when fires get cozier, quaffed beers get darker, and we here at AMG begin to rhapsodize on things missed and regale readers with things listed, I found myself still searching for a near-end-of-year something new. When I saw Antinoë’s Dark Essence Records debut, The Fold, blurbily described as ‘Neoclassical Folk meets melancholy Pop with a Metal attitude,’ I was intrigued. Descending from the mountains of Madrid, Antinoë is the passion project of pianist and vocalist Teresa Marraco. Launched in 2021, Antinoë’s 2023 release, Whispers from the Dark Past, offered a unique piano tribute to the 90s Norwegian black metal scene, with Marraco covering everything from Emperor’s “I Am the Black Wizards” to Mayhem’s “Life Eternal” and Dimmu Borgir’s “Mourning Palace.”1 Poised to challenge the very fluid boundaries of what metal can be, let’s see if The Fold has the warmth necessary to keep those wintery winds at bay.

Void of instrumental trappings associated with most traditional metal, Antinoë relies solely on Marraco’s beautifully resonant voice and her expansive piano compositions to weave stygian tapestries. Conceptually, The Fold navigates the odyssey of accepting death, inviting listeners to tread a path through the idiomatic depths of grief’s different stages, as it traces the process of ‘folding inward.’ From the outset, as cricket-song fades into “Night Falls,” with its delicately crafted, darkly haunting piano melody and celestial vocals, the track pulls at melancholy heartstrings, drawing you into Antinoë’s dark world and setting the stage for what’s to come. The Fold offers an immersive, piano-led experience, peppered with pummeled ivories that shift with metallic force beneath sustained choral harmonies (“The Devil’s Voice”), as wispy trails of folky, Enya-esque ambiance waft amid airy, Dead Can Dance-like atmospheres (“Når Du Dør”). Not unlike Darkher, Antinoë succeeds at tapping into inscrutable emotion by minimalist means, but where Maiven casts spells webbed in doom, Marraco’s magic leans more toward the black arts.

While Antinoë draws much of its ‘metal’ from lyrical themes that explore the dense nature of grief and death, that doesn’t mean The Fold is musically bereft of heavier fare. Death angels descend on Emperor wings with halos of Dimmu Borgir to hover over the opening chords of “Threshold,” heralding dark omens in a chorus of swarming harmonies, witchy laughter, and raspy breaths, all as Antinoë pounds and trills her way through octaves in true symphonic black metal fashion.2 Is it still just a girl and her piano? Yes, but it’s by far the ‘heaviest’ song on the album. Which gives way to the excellently murky pop of “Chaos in the Sky,” another album highlight that had my neck snapped to rapt attention when Marracos, in her smoky voice, opened with “Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck am I?” like some dark-alt Adele, creating another moment more metal than not.

Drenched in warmth, The Fold’s production captures the beauty of Antinoë’s neo-classical elegance and marries it perfectly to its atmospherically blackened weight, providing a full-on musical experience. Whether it’s the delicate last minute of “The Devil’s Voice,” which flirts with a “Lágnætti” melody, off the Sólstafir magnum opus Ottá, or the inquisitive, childlike mystery of the whispers and keys on “Flock,” to the somber dirge of vocals from “Light Bringer,” listening to Antinoë is to become utterly immersed. I have little to critique, so enamored am I by Antinoë’s ability to impart complex ideas in the simplest of terms. I suppose there’s a minute or two that Marraco could have shaved from the two instrumentals, but in all honesty, there’s not a minute of The Fold that I would cut or change.

One of the things I’ve always appreciated about AMG is its fearlessness in shedding light on bands that are categorically not metal. Case in point, among many, is Dolphin Whisperer’s review of Maud the Moth’s excellent The Distaff this year. Antinoë has recorded an emotional album for healing hearts, and as I look back on the last few years of losses I’ve experienced, I’m unsurprised by how impactful it’s been to me. I wasn’t expecting something of this caliber to come sweeping in so close to list season, but here we are. I’ll gladly wrap myself in a warm blanket next to a cozy fire, slip on my favorite pair of headphones, and sip a smoky porter while letting The Fold envelop me against the impending winter’s chill.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #40 #ambient #antinoe #darkher #deadCanDance #dimmuBorgir #emperor #enya #notMetal #nov25 #piano #review #spanishMetal #theFold

Bloodbound – Field of Swords Review

By Baguette of Bodom

Bloodbound has always been a band with a confusing identity. These Swedes lit up a storm with debut Nosferatu in 2006, an underappreciated heavy/power gem fusing the best of Iron Maiden’s gallops with the hooks of Helloween and HammerFall. The golden pipes of Urban Breed (ex-Tad Morose) were the cherry on top. However, the curse of unstable lineups would strike. Urban Breed would leave for one album, rejoin for the odd-but-good, progpower-meets-Kalmah melodeath sound of Tabula Rasa, and promptly leave again. A decade of struggles followed, ranging from watered-down HammerFall to withered Sabaton to simply tepid heavy metal. 2021’s Creatures of the Dark Realm was a surprising resurgence, drifting Bloodbound more towards saccharine Europower. This brings us to newcomer Field of Swords. Where does it fit into this unconventional discography?

Field of Swords doubles down on Bloodbound’s recent melodic adventures. The double bass drumming of ’90s power metal is immediately recognizable, following in the steps of Stratovarius and HammerFall. The guitar work, too, has rejuvenated. Gone are almost all of the Sabatonisms that marred some of the band’s lowest points; here, the Olsson brothers’ rhythmic assault is simple but effective (“As Empires Fall,” “Born to Be King”), and its attitude carries the medieval fantasy spirit of [Luca Turilli(‘s) / Lione] Rhapsody [of Fire] minus the wank. The vocals of Patrik J. Selleby fit this style like a glove, his adapted performance being one of the strongest of his tenure thus far.

Bloodbound’s newfound breakneck pace and consistency are their greatest assets. The decision to go borderline sparkly on Field of Swords could have backfired, marking yet another sudden left turn in a discography full of them. Instead, it feels like a natural development from the past three albums. While the album on the surface is written like standard ’90s–’00s melodic power metal (“Field of Swords”), the execution of classic power chord choruses leading into blazing solos (“The Code of Warriors,” “Forged in Iron”) is surprisingly fiery and fun. Most importantly, Field of Swords forgoes balladry and prioritizes speed for a lion’s share of its 45-minute runtime. The record has a unified image unusual of Bloodbound. It’s not infallible—the unnecessary Sabaton sing-along stomp rears its head on the second half of “Pain and Glory”—but it is tightly-knit in a way I greatly appreciate.

As catchy as Field of Swords is, there are a few things preventing it from being a resounding success. For one, Bloodbound rely too much on one-note Battle Beastian disco synths. While Fredrik Bergh contributes plenty of pleasant backing bombast to the album as well, his main weapon of choice is sharp and high up in the mix, leading to fatigue on some otherwise strong choruses (“Defenders of Jerusalem,” “Light the Sky”). The band is still not immune to odd songwriting shifts either. In addition to the aforementioned “Pain and Glory” stumble, closing track “The Nine Crusades” features Unleash the Archers’ talented Brittney Slayes, only for her voice to drown under sappiness unfit for the record. Even so, the concoction here is potent. Cuts like “Land of the Brave” and “Light the Sky” are some of Bloodbound’s fastest and most energetic to date, and this sudden burst of frenzy is admirable of a veteran band.

For the first time in a while, Bloodbound’s sound has a true sense of direction. Field of Swords’ all-gas, no-brakes approach gives the record more urgency than they’ve had in forever, and both the songwriting and album flow greatly benefit in return. Despite some lingering issues, Field of Swords ends up being one of the better albums in the band’s catalog. Both Creatures of the Dark Realm and this album indicate the Europower-forward realignment continues to work in their favor. I can’t say I don’t still long for the days of Nosferatu, and Bloodbound could place a bit more faith in their strong guitar work and vocal lines, but whatever they’re doing is paying off once more. I can only hope this progress continues.

Rating: Good!
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream o’ Piss
Label: Napalm Records | Bandcamp
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#lucaTurillisLioneRhapsodyOfFire #2025 #30 #battleBeast #bloodbound #fieldOfSwords #hammerfall #helloween #ironMaiden #kalmah #napalmRecords #nov25 #powerMetal #review #reviews #sabaton #stratovarius #swedishMetal #tadMorose #unleashTheArchers

Insidius – Vulgus Illustrata Review

By Lavender Larcenist

A Polish, blackened death metal record a day keeps the doctor away, or so I have heard. If so, Insidius (so tired of mispelled band names that make things impossible to search for) is your latest shot of hyper technical, searingly fast loud noises from the Poles. Quietly chugging along in the background, this Olsztyn-based fivesome has been producing solid blackened death since their debut, Shadows of Humanity, in 2016. While the album cover for Vulgus Illustrata may look like it contains some atmospheric depressive black metal, the eight tracks inside are nonstop meat grinders of chainsaw riffing with thick bass, otherworldly drumming, and pure rage. While Insidius plays with the familiar and the foundational, does Vulgus Illustrata survive comparison to its heavyweight counterparts like Dormant Ordeal and Behemoth, or is it dragged to the bottom, each unoriginal idea weighing it down like cinderblocks tied to a corpse?

For starters, Insidius knows what they are doing. They’ve toured for years alongside bands like Vader, Grave, and Nervosa, and Vulgus Illustrata is full of dizzying instrumentation throughout. Tomasz Choiński and Jakub Janowicz wield their guitars like two buzzsaw-toting murderous surgeons, hacking and slicing at every turn with savage tremolo riffs and tilting dissonance. “Orgiastic” leads with a stop-start staccato riff, morphing with the introduction of Łukasz Usydus’s pirouetting bass. Of course, a blackened death metal album would be nowhere without some absurdly technical drumming, and Michał Andrzejczyk is no slouch. Inhuman fills, insane blasts, and rolling rhythms bring cohesion to Vulgus Illustrata, making for an album more akin to a face pummeling than a headbangers ball. Lastly, Rafał Tasak offers a competent if unflashy performance with his barking ferocity and pitched screaming. While the register remains generally on the low end, he has that pushing force that hurts your diaphragm to listen to. Think Cannibal Corpse, Vader, and Immolation, and you have the right idea.

Insidius has all the individual elements, but each track can’t help but bleed into the next, and even at a tight thirty-eight minutes, Vulgus Illustrata can feel long. Where bands like Dormant Ordeal mastered atmosphere, lead-ups, and the ebb and flow of a great blackened death song, Insidius feels too focused on in-your-face brutality. There are much-needed breaks here and there, with some genuinely great atmosphere, such as on the intro to “A Darkness That Divides” or “Censure”, and the entirety of the album closer “Forge of Our Hatred”. Unfortunately, these are few and far between, like ballasts in a storm that leave you hanging on for dear life. I like a good pummeling as much as the next fool, but only when it is consensual.

Maybe it is my undying love of blackened, Polish death metal, but I feel like I have seen everything Insidius has to offer done better elsewhere. Behemoth has a lock on hating god and the bombastic, theatrical edgelord side of things. Dormant Ordeal has technicality in spades alongside great songwriting, incredible atmosphere, and hidden hooks for days. Bands like Hath and Olkoth show that you don’t need to be from Poland to make good blackened death, either, so competition is fierce. Insidius feels late to the party, all dressed up, but nobody is there. They are doing everything right, but it isn’t quite clicking.

To be fair, some of you sick freaks will like getting absolutely brutalized and love every minute of Vulgus Illustrata, singing along as Tasak screams “Shit, cum and blood paint the wall of your prison”. I am not here to rain on your parade, and I don’t want to undersell Insidius. Vulgus Illustrata is heavy, consistent, competent, and genuinely engaging at times, but it feels tired. Insidius has the talent and the energy, but someone needs to point their ballistic missile of blackened death in the right direction for a direct hit. If you are a superfan of the genre, you may get some choice cuts from this slab of beef, but even still, you are better off eating with the bands that brought you here. Another victim to hang from the 3.0 tree, let’s tie the noose and be done with it.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: insidiusblacklion.bandcamp.com/album/vulgus-illustrata
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #behemoth #blackLionRecords #blackenedDeathMetal #dormantOrdeal #grave #hath #insidius #nervosa #nov25 #olkoth #poland #polishMetal #review #reviews #vader #vulgusIllustrata

Sun of the Dying – A Throne of Ashes Review

By Thus Spoke

Autumn is well and truly here, so it’s about time I reviewed some doom. Though my ears have been diverted towards certain listworthy death/black drops these past few weeks, the pull of the gloom grows stronger in proportion with the shortening of the days. But rather than the icy climes of Scandinavia, or wintry North America, or even rainy old England, my long-awaited dose of darkness came from Spain. In less than three-quarters of an hour, Madrid’s Sun of the Dying proved that you don’t need miserable, cold weather to make music about misery. A Throne of Ashes, the group’s third LP, is a bold, strong, and stirring mélange of death-doom styles that both filled the void in my musical life and made me downright embarrassed not to have listened to them before.

Sun of the Dying borrow from across the spectrum to craft their compositions, creating richly layered soundscapes. Gracing soaring melodies with dolorous piano, they channel Swallow the Sun on the highs, and Endonomos on the lows. Sweetly sad strings and soft singing recall My Dying Bride, and a duet over warm, vibrating chords and resonant atmosphere Draconian.1 But all this familiarity detracts not one iota from the authenticity of A Throne of Ashes; if anything, it makes it easier to love. By combining the best aspects of these influences with a heavy dose of character, Sun of the Dying make them their own, constructing a powerful whole that simply oozes feeling and personality.

As an indicator of how well A Throne of Ashes communicates emotion by way of staggering death-doom, it contains not just one, but two Song-o-the-year list contenders. Contender one, opener “Martyrs,” had me sitting back in my chair completely still, to give it my full attention. Its graceful dynamism between uplifting guitars and hushed cymbal, narrated by Eduardo Guilló’s beautiful singing and untempered roars, is matched for pathos only by fellow highlight “House of Asterion.” The latter leans into the orchestral more heavily, accenting melancholy descents with ever more dramatic flourishes of strings in a way designed to stamp them into the listener’s heart. These two exemplify Sun of the Dying’s knack for creating depth of feeling and composition with careful weaving of delicacy and sturdiness— the mark of all great doom. As refrains pass between piano, synths, and guitar, they wax, wane, and build gracefully. Spacious resonance over which solo piano (“With Wings Aflame,” “Of Absence”) or strumming, or the sounds of someone sobbing (“Of Absence”) float over and bleed into, prefigures or breaks the gradual escalation into screaming strings (“The House of Asterion”), or white-hot tremolo (“Martyrs”), or the blows of shuddering riff and cymbal (“The Longest Winter,” “Of Absence”). The fullness of even the quieter moments, with bittersweet melodies detailed with touches of choir and orchestrals and multi-tracked vocals and the warm heartbeat of percussion, makes the experience powerfully immersive, heightening the climaxes and deepening the nadirs.

So strong is Sun of the Dying’s ability to draw its listener in and wring their heart out that one almost forgives their occasional structural missteps. Advance track “Black Birds Beneath Your Sky” is a crushing slab of comparatively aggressive doom-death whose string-swelling, group-sung chorus yet exemplifies most explicitly the anthemic feel that other songs hint at. It’s a good song—particularly in its more soaring second act—but it sits awkwardly between the mournful “Martyrs” and “With Wings Aflame,” suddenly brushing aside the rapturous mist of sadness only for it to descend again right after. Its mood-breaking grit is echoed, albeit faintly, by “The Greatest Winter,”‘s more grey and stolid riffing, and there’s the quiet sensation that the pair don’t quite belong with their more sombre companions. Without them, however, the album would be very short, and so rather than removing them, their use of dark and light, soft and heavy elements might simply need to be adjusted.

Even if its atmosphere isn’t perfectly sealed, A Throne of Ashes proves transportive and engrossing all the same. Heartfelt and compelling, it distils an ideal of modern doom and had me scrambling to hear Sun of the Dying’s back catalogue. Don’t let the year end without a walk on a grey day and A Throne of Ashes in your ears.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #35 #aThroneOfAshes #aopRecords #deathDoom #doomMetal #draconian #endonomos #myDyingBride #nov25 #review #reviews #spanishMetal #sunOfTheDying #swallowTheSun

Old Night – Mediterranean Melancholy Review

By ClarkKent

Loneliness is a theme ripe for the sadboi genre, and given the epidemic of loneliness in our modern era, it’s a relatable one. Yet Croatian doom outfit, Old Night, tackles a more obscure topic on Mediterranean Melancholy—lighthouse keepers.1 This record marks the quintet’s fourth since forming ten years ago, and it’s the first with Ivan Hanžek stepping up as lead vocalist, following the departure of his brother, Matej, who left for personal reasons. Sadboi doom is typically ape fodder, as evidenced by the glowing review for Dawn of Solace earlier this year, yet somehow this ended up in my lap. Time to find out if Steel Druhm will be shedding tears at this missed opportunity to review one of his favorite genres.

Old Night certainly has a lot in common with sadboi stalwarts, Dawn of Solace. They mix pensive cleans with harsher growls, leaning much more heavily into the cleans. Songs often begin with melancholic guitar leads, Insomnium-style, and delve into Novembers Doom-esque rhythmic chugs, but Old Night plays at a much slower pace than these other bands. These elements mix nicely on tunes like “Stormbirds,” where an Eastern-tinged melody combines with Hanžek’s solemn tones to tug at the heartstrings. It builds up to an impassioned call to “Unleash the storm / unleash the stormbirds,” among the record’s highlight moments. The formula throughout Mediterranean Melancholy is consistent, but breaks on the finale, “The Loneliness of Lighthouse Keepers.” This song opens with a bit of soft rock arpeggios before Hanžek croons about a lighthouse keeper and a man on the moon. It mixes magical realism with raw emotion and gentle strums with heavy riffs to wring tears from attentive listeners. It stands as the album’s emotional peak.

Compared to the likes of Dawn of Solace, Old Night proves to be a bit rough around the edges. This is most apparent in the vocals. Hanžek sings his heart out, but his pitch is all over the place. He fares better when singing at a lower pitch, such as the beginning of “Chasing Yesterdays,” but at higher volumes, his voice leans more shout-y than sing-y. Luka Petrović’s growls similarly lack the oomph required to be effective. A good growl here and there would certainly help to darken the tone, but it feels like Petrović holds himself back the few times he steps in. Instrumentally, Old Night fares better. On guitars, Bojan Frian and Ivan Hanžek excel at the sort of melodic leads that ooze sorrow. They strum some memorable hooks, though I wish these hooks had more airtime. The production doesn’t often allow Petrović’s bass to make itself known, but he lets loose with a nice bass line on the finale. Similarly, Nikola Jovanović commands the kit with some hefty, slow-paced beats that add to the record’s gravitas. These guys can play, but are let down by production and songwriting choices.

Underwhelming vocals are rarely a dealbreaker for me, but Old Night’s biggest issue lies in its songwriting. While the record wraps up at a tidy 43 minutes, each tune ranges from the seven to nine-minute mark, and not a single one earns its stay. While Mediterranean Melancholy features traditional song structures better suited to four to five-minute bites, Old Night pads each track with tedious instrumental passages and slow, repetitive choruses. Most egregious is “Ghosts,” which gets through its full progression after four minutes but continues on for another five and a half minutes, seemingly in search of a reason to keep going. Only “The Loneliness of Lighthouse Keepers” justifies going beyond six minutes, but even this could benefit from snipping a minute or two off.

Sadly, Old Night doesn’t quite scratch that sadboi itch. The elements are all there: the melodies, the lyrical content, the musicianship. Yet they fall prey to a common pitfall—bloat. With some cutting, Mediterranean Melancholy could have been a serviceable EP. As it stands, the long, meandering songs reveal how tough it is for doom to toe the line between causing listeners to shed tears of sorrow or tears of boredom. Next time I hope they can hone in on their strengths and trim the fat.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#20 #2025 #croatianMetal #dawnOfSolace #doomMetal #insomnium #mediterraneanMelancholy #meuseMusicRecords #nov25 #novembersDoom #oldNight #review #reviews

Strigiform – Aconite Review

By Samguineous Maximus

Sometimes, you catch a glint from deep within the festering promo heap and you know exactly what kind of beast you’re about to prod. Strigiform’s debut, Aconite, radiates the unmistakable stench of “I, Voidhanger-core”—that wonderfully cursed strain of aural decimation that critics slobber over while normal metalheads back away slowly, usually on smaller wierdo labels like I, Voidhanger or Transcending Obscurity. Think along the lines of AMG darlings from this year like Hexrot, Patristic and Ritual Ascension. Let’s check the boxes, just for safe measure. Genre tag reads “avant-garde black/death” (Check). Hails from Italy, where pretension and brilliance are often bedfellows (Check). Cover art looks like a philosophy major’s panic attack rendered in oil paint (Check). Pretentious song titles? “Knell of Nethermost Withdrawal” (Triple Check). This is the kind of swirling, self-immolating chaos that promises either transcendence or a migraine.

Luckily for Strigiform, their songcraft does anything but check boxes, and the compositions on Aconite are nuanced and powered by a crack team of impeccable musicians. This is a quartet of underground metal veterans, from bands such as Vertebra Atlantis, Afraid of Destiny and Thirst Prayer, showing every bit of their pedigree across a lean 34-minute runtime. They merge the reality-altering riffcraft of mid-period Blut Aus Nord, the crystalline cleans of Haunter’s lighter moments and the sly virtuosity of Serpent Column into something entirely their own. Guitarist Saprovore careens between satisfying second-wave tremolos, uncomfortable suspended arpeggios, and spacey, phaser-coated clean sections dripping with a subtle menace. This delectable guitar work is backed by a tasty, jazz-fueled bass performance by Aiokos, who anchors the 6-string haze with a warm, meaty backbone, guiding the ear through these twisted compositions with melodic fills and supporting the eldritch riffery when necessary. The instrumental trio is rounded out by Morte Rossa on drums, who blasts and gallops as expected during the more anarchic moments, but also brings a gentle rhythmic touch to the record’s softer motifs. Each performance is impressive in its own right, but it’s the synthesis of these talented players working together to create considered compositions that elevate Aconite to a higher plane of perverse consciousness.

On Aconite, songs unfold naturally, brimming with skronktastic chaos and understated melodies. Strigiform understands the necessary push and pull to accent a work’s heavier moments, spending almost as much time lulling you into a sense of hypnotic false security as they do pummeling your eardrums with unholy blackened fury. The more aggressive cuts (“Adamant,” “Obsecration”) are led by omnidimensional death-tinged riffs and octopus-armed drum grooves while vocalist N shrieks abstract void poetry atop it all, but the rest of the album leaves plenty of room for brooding atmosphere. “Scorched and Hostile” emerges from its aural onslaught and ends on a sickening off-time chordal refrain, while album highlight “Hypnagogic Allure” weaves around a gorgeously haunting, Imperial Triumphant-esque clean arpeggio, building towards a dissonant freak-out as its poignant conclusion. Aconite demonstrates a pointed and deliberate pacing that often eludes bands of this ilk. Whenever a section might overstay its welcome, Strigiform interject with a novel, mind-bending part which furthers the song, easing up on the gas when necessary, but always deepening the band’s twisted vision.

Musically, Aconite is superb, but the work as a whole is elevated by Strigiform’s keen sense of thematics. The six songs on Aconite are ordered from shortest to longest, with each piece becoming more and more expansive until the 8-minute finale “Knell of Nethermost Withdrawal,” a tune that begins with nearly two minutes of abstract noise before the band’s familiar groaning lurch explodes into action. A full album listen gives the sense of descending into the Conradian darkness of some sinister subterranea. This is aided by some truly standout lyrics which evoke a poetic nihilism with the flourish of French symbolists like Baudelaire or Rimbaud. Such evocative lines as “Encapsulation of screaming cells / Inebriated by rotten velvet / Heal me with your aconite hands / Soak me in crimson flames / Turn my wrath to limestone / Drown in smoke” or “Molten into iridescent hallucinations / of devoured perception / yet again, another moment of consciousness / coerced into contemplation.” set my inner English major’s heart ablaze and are clear evidence that Aconite has the narrative weight to match its outstanding musicianship.

With Aconite, Strigiform have crafted a fully realized artistic statement that pushes the boundaries of esoteric underground metal. It’s the kind of album that makes all the trials and tribulations of music reviewing worthwhile—a debut from an unknown band on a modest label that completely floors you. Aconite is dynamic, intricate, and richly layered, a record every fan of avant-garde metal should hear. I can’t wait to see what Strigiform do next

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/album/aconite
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #40 #aconite #afraidOfDestiny #avantGarde #blackMetal #blackenedDeathMetal #blutAusNord #deathMetal #experimentalMetal #haunter #i #iVoidhanger #imperialTriumphant #italianMetal #nov25 #review #reviews #serpentColumn #strigiform #thirstPrayer #vertebraAtlantis

Tzevaot – The Hermetic Way Review

By Thus Spoke

Oh, to have half the confidence of the average solo artist dabbling in the esoteric. Their avant-garde opuses can’t all be the status-quo-subverting masterworks of music and philosophy they claim to be. For some reason, I, Voidhanger keeps signing them, and for equally opaque reasons, we keep choosing to review their albums. Tzevaot is the experimental black metal1 project of an individual known only as The Orator, who in The Hermetic Way explores occult ideas purported to unveil “actual hidden mechanisms of reality,” with heavy inspiration from the magical tradition made popular by who else but Aleister Crowley. And while everything from the flowery promo blurb to the time-stamped lyrics2 and the solemn spoken-word poetry tries to convince you of its significance. The Hermetic Way completely fails to impart much more than consternation.

It’s difficult to know where to even begin with The Hermetic Way, and its brand of wisdom. At every turn, things somehow go wrong. The core sound is something akin to Esoctrilihum—barking screams, twisty guitars, and a propensity for echo on everything—only with a mix you’d barely forgive a bedroom project for, and a compositional style that makes said Esoctrilihum sound catchy. Tzevaot jumbles synths, piano, and guitars that seem to hit upon a genuine groove of Emperor-esque theatrics or Absu-level style completely by accident; the fact that the best melodies are never reprised only supports this theory. The drumming—which may well be a machine for all I can discern3—is flat and dull, buried by the wall of heavy reverb between the sharp stab of the vocals and the other instruments. This intensifies the feeling of aggravated confusion that defines the listening experience, as one struggles to keep up with the nonsensical rhythmic trades, sudden inclusion of solo synth or piano, and yet more spoken-word. This is not the nuanced placelessness of an intelligent, complex extreme metal, where discordance and strange rhythms develop impossibly but seamlessly into new forms; this is a mess.

As with many similar works of art, all of The Hermetic Way’s failures arise from the hubris of their creator. The indulgence of every idea, at the expense of their development, integration, and refinement, causes the record to swing pendulously between mind-numbing boredom and toe-curling cringe. Without fail, songs go in the most annoying possible direction, dropping tension like a hot potato and throwing out a rare good musical passage in favour of the most jarring refrains (“Solve et Coagula,” “Pyres of Meaning Light the New Aeon’s Way”), or another arrangement of noise to a jaunty tempo that makes a mockery of the previous composition (“Zosimos the Alchemist”). Elements are often so poorly integrated, that sections clearly designed for drama—stripped-back keys or solemn recitations—fail to land; the sample of famed occult author Lon Milo DuQuette is barely audible past the fickle interchanges of organs, riffs, and drums. The Oracle persistently delivers vocals in a monotonous, rapid-fire bark that gets grating fast, particularly when combined with Tzevaot’s fondness for stacking tempos and synth accompaniments like dominos one after another. But I would listen to hours of all the above barks rather than sit just once more through horror show “The Hero of Megiddo,” a skin-crawling ditty whose redemptive brevity is made moot by its being the only thing on the record with a memorable tune, causing the perverse singing and jangling chords to turn around in your brain like an inescapable merri-go-round.

Most painful of all is that The Hermetic Way could have been so much better. Tzevaot might try to borrow the label of “jazz” to elevate whatever’s going on with piano and cymbals at various points. While that’s not really justified, it’s nonetheless striking that every single isolated passage of good music on The Hermetic Way involves piano4 (“The Emerald Tablet of Thoth,” “Air Fire Water Earth,” “Metempsychosis”). These fleeting moments, which comprise approximately five percent of the runtime combine key slides and arpeggios in a stylish, interesting way that’s very cool, and variously reminiscent of Wreche, Vengeur, and once again Emperor. In an hour of music that is otherwise so exhausting, this is obviously not enough. By the time the best parts of the album arrive in closer “Metempsychosis,” you’re likely too checked out to care, if you’re even still listening.

The Hermetic Way’s title is apt. Not only as it divulges supposed profound truths through the visionary teachings of the self-imposed hermit, who has reached enlightenment through years of solitary contemplation. But also because that’s quite a good analogy for the solo metal musician of the esoteric bent. Maybe Tzevaot harbors real genius, and I’m simply too blind and deaf to see or hear it in their work. More likely it’s another case of talent foiled by delusion.

Rating: Bad
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 265 kb/s mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#15 #2025 #avantGardeMetal #blackMetal #emperor #esoctrilihum #esotericBlackMetal #experimentalMetal #iVoidhangerRecords #nov25 #review #reviews #theHermeticWay #tzevaot

Asira – As Ink in Water Review

By Killjoy

I get the sense that the members of Asira are particularly meticulous. The last time we heard from this post/prog group from Reading, UK was back in 2017. In his review of their debut album, Efference, El Cuervo asserted that Asira was on the cusp of being the next Big Deal. Just four months later, he decided that they already were, invoking Contrite Metal Guy powers to amend Efference’s score from 3.5 to 4.5 (a Big Deal, indeed!). Perhaps Asira felt some pressure, because they took their time to craft the best possible follow-up. As Ink in Water is an effervescent opus about the breadth and depth of human emotion, it was worth the wait.

One way that Asira describes their music is “gold-tinged black metal,”1 but I would be more inclined to call it black-tinged gold metal. As Ink in Water is resplendent in like manner to Deadly Carnage’s Endless Blue, both of which are buoyed by similarly soaring vocals. Jack Reynolds has some of the best cleans in the business, harmonizing neatly with Martin and Lydia Williams when the occasion calls for it. The smooth, invigorating guitars have carried over from Efference, particularly during the more tranquil moments, but most vestiges of blackgaze have evaporated. The remaining black metal influence on As Ink in Water comes when the vocals sometimes switch to sharp rasps. In less scrupulous hands, these opposites could have easily clashed unpleasantly.

Luckily, Asira has an incredibly strong mastery of the art of contrast. The verses of “Cauterise” are commanded by wild blast beats and furious growls, yet they willingly give way to the glowing, clean-sung choruses like the night yielding to the rising sun. Speaking of which, “In Sunrise” is, in my estimation, the crown jewel of As Ink in Water. While mainly consisting of bright guitar arpeggios and infectious melodies, the juxtaposition of Reynolds’ snarls and Lydia Williams’ soprano at the midpoint is chill-inducing. This polarity also exists between the individual songs; the fact that the aggression of “Cauterise” and the tenderness of “Clarity” can sound like they belong on the same record is a testament to Asira’s skill as songwriters.

It’s clear that Asira put a great deal of thought and care into the compositions of As Ink in Water. El Cuervo’s wish for less repetition and more variety in the quieter parts of Efference has been granted. No matter the intensity, the songs never stall or stop moving forward. Even those that appear unassuming on the surface manifest important details upon closer listening, such as the delicate bass grooves in “Clarity” or the deliberate arrangement of backing vocals in “Still.” These songs might require a bit more patience than the others, but they are just as important to the overall canvas of color. The only tracks that don’t add much are the twin interludes, “Descent” and “Ascent,” though at just one minute apiece, this is easy to forgive.

Asira has fashioned a truly unique and heartwarming work of art that defies easy description. As the title of As Ink in Water implies, the light and dark elements may seem disparate at first, but over time, they mix perfectly together. Asira set out to portray the universal human experiences of “anxiety, grief, fury, compassion, and healing,” all of which can easily be both heard and felt. I find myself emotionally invested in As Ink in Water to the point where multiple 11-minute songs seem to vanish in the blink of an eye. Although this year is getting late, I feel confident that this special record will stick with me into and beyond the next.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Release
Websites: asira.bandcamp.com | asira-band.com | facebook.com/asirauk
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #40 #asInkInWater #asira #blackMetal #britishMetal #deadlyCarnage #nov25 #postRock #progressiveMetal #progressiveRock #review #reviews #selfRelease

Christiano Filippini’s Flames of Heaven – Symphony of the Universe Review

By Twelve

Choosing new music to review is an interesting process. Once you pick a thing, you’re pretty much locked into it. So I try to forecast: what will I be okay with listening to over and over again for the next week or two? Having just reviewed Lykke, I was very much in the mood for something more upbeat, and I didn’t have to read far past the band name Christiano Filippini’s Flames of Heaven to know Symphony of the Universe fit the bill. Indeed, when I requested the files for review, Dolphin Whisperer, overheard the request. “Is that Italian power metal?” he asked. “It sounds like Italian power metal.” “I didn’t check,” I answered. “But yes.” We were right. Symphony of the Universe is Flames of Heaven’s sophomore full-length, and it is as Italian, power-y, and cheesy as you’re thinking. In that way, you and D.W. are very much alike.

On that note, I’m having trouble getting this review going because Flames of Heaven really does sound exactly like you might expect given its name, origin, and album photo. Their hallmark: fast, bombastic power metal in the Rhapsody of Fire vein, augmented with keys and arrangements (from Filippini himself), but largely focusing on symphonic/power riffs (Michele Vioni) and high-tenor vocals (Marco Pastorino, Fallen Sanctuary). After a brief orchestral intro track, “On the Wings of Phoenix” sets the stage expertly: the main melody carried by lead guitars in perfect emulation of the impressively catchy chorus, the whole a dedication to adventure, rebirth, and hope. “The Archangel’s Warcry” puts keys at the forefront, creating an epic feel while also boasting one of the most impressive guitar solos on the album. Again, we hear it: a catchy chorus, an upbeat style, a sense of venturing that gets the head nodding even hours later. This is Flames of Heaven’s style, and they’re comfortable in it.

Not that there’s no variety on Symphony of the Universe, though it is a bit sparser than I’d personally prefer. There are straightforward European-style power metal tracks like “Midnight Riders” and “On the Wings of Phoenix,” epics like “The Archangels’ Warcry” and “Symphony of the Universe,” and then traditionally-inspired songs like “Don’t Leave Me Tonight”—the requisite power ballad—and “Tears of Love and Hate.” These songs dial back on the epic fantasy imagery and tread even more familiar roads—love, heartbreak, relationships. The music style similarly changes, dialing back the speed and “power” for a more trad-metal sound (though they do give bassist Giorgio Terenziani a somewhat-rare chance to shine, which is welcome). “When Love Burns” even reminds me of Brother Firetribe, which is not something I say often.

That means there’s a lot going on in Symphony of the Universe. The whole album runs sixty-nine minutes over thirteen tracks, two of which are instrumental bookends. It shifts styles often, though the base formula stays firmly in the “cheesy” Euro-power style. This means it’s a lot to listen to all at once, and I would even suggest that every song could have at least one minute trimmed from it without negatively impacting its quality, and no song over seven minutes needs to be longer than five, especially in “Darkside of Gemini” and “On the Wings of Phoenix.” The number of false stops, “one last chorus” instances, and lengthy interludes add up; I honestly think Symphony of the Universe could be twenty to thirty minutes shorter and better for it, because there wouldn’t be time for ear fatigue to build up. Whether by removing stylistically-clashing songs like “Tears of Love and Hate” (especially jarring, as it follows the monumental “The Archangel’s Warcry”), or cutting down on excess choruses and add-ons at the end of long songs, it seems Flames of Heaven could have edited a lot more of this project than they have.

My feelings for Symphony of the Universe are conflicted: it’s a genuinely fun, catchy album and a reliable, if predictable, sample of modern European power metal. I got the power metal pick-me-up I was hunting for, but there’s simply too much of it—and so much relies on an industry-standard formula. As a whole, Symphony of the Universe splinters under its enormous weight. There’s a great album in here, but the whole feels less than the sum of its parts.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Limb Music
Websites: flamesofheaven.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cristianofilippinisflamesofheaven
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#25 #2025 #brotherFiretribe #christianoFilippinisFlamesOfHeaven #fallenSanctuary #italianMetal #limbMusic #nov25 #powerMetal #review #reviews #rhapsodyOfFire #symphonicMetal #symphonyOfTheUniverse

Mezzrow – Embrace the Awakening Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

Two years ago, I reviewed Mezzrow’s comeback record, Summon Thy Demons—a return that was thirty-three fucking years in the making. Being that they only had one record before their 2023 comeback, I can’t say they’ve left a lasting legacy on the Swedish thrash genre—especially with so many legends that dominated the Swethrash space. With age and wisdom, it appears this quintet is looking to make an impact decades after the heydays of this unique flavor of thrash came and went. The energy, since the release of Summon Thy Demons, must continue to surge in their veins because I’m back to deliver a review of this year’s Embrace the Awakening. While none of their albums are terrible by any means, will the ‘third-times-the-charm’ bring Mezzrow the breakout success they seek?

After unloading three decades of bent-up riffage with their return, Mezzrow has cut the fat with this newest release, reducing the amount of output by fifteen minutes. This move is good for the band because they’ll continue to throw everything they have at a song, but without exhausting their listeners with the vast amount of content. Trimmed to a tight eight tracks, Embrace the Awakening delivers everything from simple thrashers meant to pummel and retreat to others that fill every nook and cranny of living space with all kinds of trinkets. Always with a dark, sinister tone in their songwriting, this new record sees them following familiar territory, combining Bay Area thrash with Swethrash influences like Sodom, Witchery, and At the Gates, to deliver a maelstrom of thrashy licks, melodic choruses, and adventurous solo work. Time to awaken deez nutz.

Embrace the Awakening gets rolling in a classic thrash-metal style with “Architects of the Silent War,” marching through an intro that builds and builds on itself before settling into a solid, sinister groove. When we arrive at the chorus, it ends up being a solid effort with plenty of gang shouts but not a lot of memorability. Which also applies to the new riff change on the back half. While not as strong an opener as the one on the previous album, the rest of the front half of Embrace the Awakening is banging. “Sleeping Cataclysm” opens with some killer blastbeats and a badass lick that successfully transitions through a punchy pre-chorus and soaring, melodic chorus. Even the back-end chugtastic lick kicks some major ass. “Foreshadowing” is a fun little ditty whose foundation is built around an old-school Witchery assault. Throughout, it alternates between slower, melodic sessions, verses that pick up pace as they progress, and an evil fucking chorus with massive gang shouts.

“In Shadows Deep” is another with some Witchery tendencies, but this time in the song’s melodic chorus. Surrounding it is a razor-sharp introduction, chugging verses, and a hefty conclusion. For more diversity, “Symphony of Twisted Souls” tosses in some clean bass and guitars, then it traverses through a couple of headbangable riffs before erupting into the chorus. After completely collapsing on the back half, things get really weird with the lonesome bass and vocal effects that remind me of that weird, mid-career shit Megadeth did because Mustaine realized he sucks at singing. Yet, somehow, through all these strange mood shifts, it pulls itself back together to conclude as a well-rounded song.

Along with some of the songwriting decisions in the opener, that leaves something to be desired, “The Moment to Arise” is a short little piece that is as filler as it gets. From bland riffs to a bland chorus, it’s the most forgettable song on the record. But it’s an easier piece to listen to than “Inside the Burning Twilight,” a boring-as-fuck chorus, and its desire to continue one minute longer than necessary. That said, Embrace the Awakening is a solid outing that continues where the comeback release left off. The first half is stronger than the second, but when the riffs hit, they hit pretty hard. And, when the choruses work, they work well. Otherwise, the album suffers from forgettable moments and filler pieces.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Rock of Angels Records
Websites: mezzrow.black | facebook.com/mezzrowsweden
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#25 #2025 #atTheGates #embraceTheAwakening #megadeth #mezzrow #nov25 #review #reviews #rockOfAngelsRecords #sodom #swedishMetal #thrashMetal #witchery

Cold Steel – Discipline & Punish Review

By Lavender Larcenist

Debut albums are a fickle thing. Often the strongest release by a band for years to come, even giving rise to the term “sophomore slump” when the inevitable follow-up can’t hit the same highs. And so, debuts are make-or-break. For Tampa’s Cold Steel, Discipline & Punish is such a piping hot serving of crossover thrash, I can’t help but be excited for their future. The Florida sextet’s first LP feels so cohesive and energetic; keeping pace will be a challenge. For now, we can revel in the absolute monster that is Discipline & Punish and enjoy a young band that is clearly firing on all cylinders and loving every minute of it.

I had no clue Cold Steel existed before their debut LP showed up in AMG’s promo pile-up, but the great hooks and a sick album cover (I am a simple woman) piqued my interest. I was immediately addicted to the catchy songs, frantic pacing, and infectious energy. Power Trip is fucking awesome (original take), and they constantly came to mind while I spun Discipline & Punish on repeat. It was no surprise then, when I learned that Cold Steel’s debut was produced by none other than Arthur Rizk (Blood Incantation, Undeath, Power Trip), it makes sense that they are the first band in a while that capture that same brand of hook-driven, manic energy that makes you wanna break a bottle on your head and start a bar fight. Jose Menedez’s vocals immediately reminded me of Riley Gale’s (RIP) signature mix of thrash edge and punk passion, mirroring some Power Trip greats, like “Firing Squad” and “Waiting Around to Die”.

It comes as no surprise, then, that the production suits Discipline & Punish perfectly. Things never get as grimy or lo-fi as many of their inspirations; Menendez’s voice is crisp and clear while leaving space for a raw edge that keeps Discipline & Punish sounding immediate and decidedly trash. Every instrument has space to thrive as massive hardcore breakdowns mix perfectly with intertwining thrash riffs. The triple (yes, triple) guitar assault of Rafi Carbonell, Shawn Wallen, and Rafael Calderon weaves between criss-crossing rhythms, hooky leads, and melting faces. As a cherry on top, Janpierre Mojica’s bass sounds thick and juicy, slamming along like a lumbering beast through the warzone of sound. Brandon Thrift’s drums tie the whole thing together, with clear percussion, driving kicks, and a military-esque tinge that fits the album’s theming well.

Menendez is a high point of Discipline & Punish. His vocal phrasing and energy drive the whole album. You can’t help but bounce along as he screeches “Blood by the liters, they’re not gonna need em” on “Killing Season”, or ripping through “Front to Enemy” alongside a feature with Aaron Heard of Jesus Piece. Like a snowball in an avalanche, Menendez gains more speed, momentum, and ferocity throughout the record, barreling over everything in his path. The biggest surprise on an album full of rippers is “Smoking Mirrors,” featuring local hip-hop/hardcore duo Two-Piece. The combination of ’80s-esque record scratches and looping off-tone siren mixes perfectly with the hooky, chugging riffs and Menendez’s manic energy. Cold Steel takes an idea that should end up like oil and water, and turns it into chocolate and peanut butter.

There are so many good things to say about Discipline & Punish. The record is tight but not too short at ten tracks and thirty-five minutes, making for a listen that is all killer, no filler. It is impossible to even pick highlights between so many standouts. From the unhinged “Front to Enemy” to the crushing “Blacksmith of Damnation” or the bouncing “Killing Season”, there is something for everyone. Then there is the surprising “Smoking Mirrors”, the atmospheric “Fever Dreaming”, and the epic closing track “The Coldest Death”, with a finale that brought to mind Horrendous of all things. Cold Steel keeps you on your toes the whole time. It is an embarrassment of riches with Discipline & Punish, an album that demands you hit the play button one more time with every spin. No album is perfect, but Discipline & Punish is a hell of a start for a young band making their foray into a storied and crowded genre. Luckily, it already looks like Cold Steel doesn’t intend to rest on its laurels, with a mix of genre-bending tracks that stretch the lines of crossover thrash and hardcore. The title may call to mind authoritarian torture, but if Cold Steel is administering the pain, you are in for a good time.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: A goddamned stream
Label: Spinefarm
Websites: coldsteel813.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/coldsteelbandfl
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #40 #americanMetal #bloodIncantation #coldSteel #crossover #crossoverThrash #disciplinePunish #hardcore #hardcorePunk #hipHop #horrendous #jesusPiece #nov25 #powerTrip #review #reviews #spinefarm #twoPiece #undeath

Tempestuous Fall – The Descent of Mortals Past Review

By ClarkKent

In 2012, Australia’s Dis Pater released the debut record for his third active—at the time—one-man project: The Stars Would Not Awaken You by Tempestuous Fall, a work of epic funeral doom. The following year, Pater released what might be the strangest split I’ve heard of: a three-way between his own active projects. It ended up being a “[three] men enter, one man leaves” kind of deal, with Midnight Odyssey being the lone survivor.1 In that time, he has contributed to several other bands, from a Greek black metal group, Kawir, to a Slovakian black metal group, Aeon Winds, as well as a whopping nine LPs for Midnight Odyssey. Yet something about the funeral doom of Tempestuous Fall must have called Pater back. Backed by classical symphonic elements, it turns out he had rather ambitious goals for sophomore album, The Descent of Mortals Past.

The Descent of Mortals Past is a concept album focused on six mythological figures and their unfortunate adventures to the underworld. With themes based in the classics, and even some lyrics in Latin, it should be no surprise that Tempestuous Fall takes a classical approach to the music. “Theseus – Encased in the Stones of Hades” opens with some gorgeous, serene strings before adding on the usual funeral doom trappings of a heavy guitar and glacial pacing. You’ll also hear the melancholic tinkling of piano keys on songs like “Heracles – Dark is the Home of the Underworld,” showing off Pater’s versatility and ingenuity. It’s remarkable the way he melds these classical elements with doom guitars and growls to create lush, hooky funeral doom. “Psyche – Temptation of the Divine” goes all out, bringing in church organs, choral chants and hums, and operatic vocals from guest singer Alice Corvinus (Swords of Dis). This beautiful tune provides such an enticing melody you might follow it to the gates of Hades.

Of course, on the classics you don’t hear singers using demonic growls, but Tempestuous Fall might make them rethink that choice. Pater takes a My Dying Bride approach—alternating between low growls and cleans. He may not be as powerful as Aaron Stainthorpe, but he’s still effective. His growls contrast with the classical melodies and deliver the lyrics poetically, while his cleans provide memorable choruses that make you want to sing along. When the heavy guitars first join the strings on “Theseus…,” it’s a shock to the system like taking the polar plunge in nothing but your underpants. But they add a darkness and melancholy that’s fitting for doomed trips to the underworld. The production is a bit of a let-down, however, as the guitars take on a buzzy quality rather than the muscle of Evoken. Yet there is a charm to this raw, lo-fi quality that takes me back to the earlier Opeth records like Morningrise.

The back half of The Descent of Mortals Past has some unfortunate inconsistencies that keep it from matching the fantastic first half. None of these songs are bad, just different. The first is “Ulysses – Requiem of the Sea,” a doom cover of Mozart’s “Lacrimosa.” It’s a very cool track, but it also feels unoriginal, especially since it is among the most played classical tunes in modern pop culture—almost to the level of parody. Similarly, “Orpheus – In Dark Deathly Grey” is also quite good, but its focus on acoustics makes it sound more at home on a Dolven record than a symphonic funeral doom set. The finale, “Aeneas – Guide Me Home,” is a return to form that fits in much better with the front half. Like these earlier songs, it has strings, doom, and some melodic leads and cleans that end the LP on an uplifting note. Yet, being the longest tune at eleven minutes, it’s the only one that feels like it drags on due to too much repetition. Individually, the songs on the back half are solid and probably keep the record from sounding stale, yet they also break a spell the first half weaves.

While it doesn’t quite reach the level of last week’s Oromet, Tempestuous Fall has written another worthy platter of funeral doom for 2025. With how The Descent of Mortals Past sounds, it is understandable why Pater wanted to return to this funeral doom project after a thirteen-year hiatus. He has an ear for epic yarns, and his injection of doom adds gravity to the classics. I just hope that he doesn’t wait another thirteen years to release the next one.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #35 #aeonWinds #australianMetal #dolven #evoken #funeralDoom #iVoidhangerRecords #kawir #midnightOdyssey #mozart #myDyingBride #nov25 #opeth #oromet #review #reviews #swordsOfDis #symphonicMetal #tempestuousFall #theDescentOfMortalsPast

Degraved – Spectral Realm of Ruin Review

By Steel Druhm

Seattle-based old school deathers Degraved have been lurking in the back alleys since 2020, tweaking their rancid and rotten caveman-trapped-in-a-cesspool sound for maximum repulsion. 2025 sees them finally give birth to their debut full-length, Spectral Realm of Ruin, and let’s just say their offspring ain’t a looker. Sounding like a time-locked study into the effects of early 90s death on the human brain, you get a nauseating fusion of early Cianide,1 Incantation, Autopsy, and disEMBOWELMENT. This is low-grade, scuzzy, and exceptionally fetid skunk cabbage suitable only for the worst of us. And though the band is sunk up to their privates in the past, they bring enough vim and venom to make things passably fresh and only slightly maggot-infested. If you like your death moldy, oldy, and evil, this just might be your steaming gorilla biscuit.

What I enjoy about Degraved’s style is their blend of ogga-booga caveman idiocy with cavern crawling slime-tentacle riffage and the ever-present coating of muck, mire, and infected poo-crust. This shit just sounds raw, unholy, and filthy. Opener “Pariah of Death” wastes no time flinging waste with abandon, using moist and greasy riffs and thundering drums to backstop sub-human toilet huffing vocals that sound like the NYC subway announcements but a little angrier. Frantic solos, some of which reek of the early days of Death, and some plodding, menacing doom bits round out a crypt rocket of a tune that gets you raving in the fresh graves. “Sulfuric Embalming” is a nuclear bomb of unpleasant noise; blasty, chaotic, raw as fuck, and completely unhinged for the sake of lunacy. The unusually moody guitar phrasing that snakes into the song around the midway point is a nice touch, but this beast is here to swing the deathhammer, and you are all nails.

“Stalker of the Heard” is another piece of trashy nastiness with an extra shot of dissonance and dotted with Tom G. Warrior-esque “UHHs” and OHs” for added spice. This one is teeming with cavern-born Incantation and Immolation riffs that have never seen the light of day, and surprise, surprise, they all bite. There’s an ideal blend of power chugging, mid-tempo devastation, and blasting thrash to keep you off balance. The massive beefbrained chugs at 2:32 are exactly what my metal heart needs, and they feel so right (and wrong). Not everything Degraved do finds that sticky sweet level of decay, however. “Unseen” is the longest cut at over 7 minutes, but it’s the least entertaining cave cretin, lapsing between ooog booga idiocy and bits of Winter and Autopsy but without the charm of either. The quiet interlude in the back-half reeks of something off Death’s Human, and things emerge from this proggier stanza with some effectively brutalizing riffs, but as a whole, the song comes up a bit short. At a short and sharp 35-plus minutes, there’s more to love than tolerate on Spectral Realm of Ruin and the overall experience is appropriately horrific and gruesome. The production is a dead ringer for the shit that was dropping between 1990 and 1994, and the level of murk and reverb in the mix is superb.

NE handles vocals and bass and does a bang-up job. His deathy mutterings and cave roaring are wonderful, and his occasional vomit and wretching noises are a twisted treat. MM and DZ handle the guitars and deliver a bevy of caustic, evil sounds that drip with evil and awful. The solo work is especially delightful and deserving of a round of applause and a spleen ‘n cheese soufflé. They pack that perfect blend of raw energy and somewhat thoughtful progression and add a lot to the dirt and sleaze. LP’s drum work is loud, abrasive, and rowdy, and that’s enough for me. A talented crew in search of cheap morgue space.

Spectral Realm of Ruin is not new, unusual, or groundbreaking, but it will fuck you up and piss on your grave (PISSGRAVE!!). It’s entertaining and disgusting, and sure to repel those whom you seek to offend. What do you have to lose by checking this out besides that shower-fresh feeling? Cleanliness is overrated anyway. I myself haven’t bathed in weeks! Now go get Degraved.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent
Websites: degraved.bandcamp.com/album | instagram.com/degraved
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #americanMetal #autopsy #cianide #darkDescentRecords #deathMetal #degraved #disembowelment #incantation #nov25 #review #reviews #spectralRealmOfRuin

Withering Soul – Passage of the Arcane Review

By Andy-War-Hall

Much has changed in the decade since Withering Soul last graced this website. I was in high school when Madam X placed a scarlet 2.5 on Adverse Portrait, a scoring I would agree with wholeheartedly.1 It was an enjoyable but unfocused work, and its Moonspell-akin gothic tendencies didn’t mesh well with the band’s Dissection worship. But in a development not covered here, Withering Soul leveled up with 2021’s Last Contact, dropping the Type O Negative vocals almost entirely and amping up their blackened core with beefier riffs and more engaging compositions. Some gothic elements remained, and what did felt far better integrated into their style than before. Withering Soul continue down this stylistic path through their fifth album Passage of the Arcane, centered on the theme of “human experiences traversing into cursed oblivion.” Have Withering Soul really discovered a path of subliminal qualities, or will Passage of the Arcane only lead to disappointment?

Passage of the Arcane is a sensible progression from Last Contact for Withering Soul. Sporting Dark Fortress atmospheres brute-forced to life through death-influenced Dissection riffage, Withering Soul have departed even further from goth rock than Last Contact in favor of even more blistering melodic black metal. Gone are the low, clean croons of Withering Soul’s past, with lead man Christopher2 relying entirely on his powerful, hoarse screams for vocals. But the songs remain snappy with strong, hooky riffs and seamless transitions between various musical ideas. Death metal grime stains Withering Soul’s sonic tapestry on “Grievance Eludes the Light” and “Among Covetous Eyes,” while the sheen of synthesizers coats “Gallery of the End” and “Burden of the Valiant.” Withering Soul are clearly a talented bunch and everyone gets a chance to shine on Passage of the Arcane; with guitarist Frank G. layering “Gallery of the End” with a bright, melodic solo; drummer Rick hitting slick fills on “Grievance Eludes the Light” and bassist Joel dropping fat, sneaky lines on “Trajectory.” Withering Soul don’t break the mold with Passage of the Arcane, but they did craft an album better than their last.

There’s real dirt in Passage of the Arcane. The opening one-two-three punch of “Attrition Horizon,” “Grievance Eludes the Light,” and “The Monolith Embodied” sees Withering Soul swing with heavyweight might as Christopher and Frank G.’s guitars pummel through power chord abusive, tremolo-heavy riffs of winding, thrashy and frost rimed-natures. Things get more exploratory as Passage of the Arcane progresses, but Withering Soul never let off that initial intensity. Passage of the Arcane’s punchy production makes Rick’s kick drums really thump, and Joel’s bass comes through big time in Withering Soul’s chuggier, groovier moments (“Trajectory”). There’s an embarrassment of good riffs here, and everything clear of fat until, unfortunately, the closer “Burden of the Valiant,” but even that song picks up eventually. Like the blackened counterpart to Dormant Ordeal from earlier this year, Withering Soul more often than not embody aggression, dealing out some truly cut-throat metal on Passage of the Arcane.

But Withering Soul is held back from greatness by a lack of variety in certain areas. Riffs are multitudinous, but almost every guitar lead on Passage feels identical, usually consisting of basic eighth note arpeggios overtop tremolo riffs that don’t really do much to spruce up the chords (“Attrition Horizon,” “Gallery of the End,” “Burden of the Valiant”). It just stinks that Withering Soul couldn’t bring the creativity they have for rhythm guitar to lead. Similarly (and a bit ironically), vocal monotony is an issue, as Christopher only uses one style of scream across Passage of the Arcane’s 41 minutes. Perhaps a little goth bass singing wouldn’t go amiss, as a treat? These complaints may verge on nitpicks, but they are prominent and persistent enough to somewhat sully my enthusiasm for Passage of the Arcane.

Withering Soul assembled Passage of the Arcane out of common ingredients to the sub-genre, but tight songwriting and strong performances elevate the material. Though an immediate album in many ways, Passage was a grower for me, as repeat listenings revealed little details and how the pieces move. If you like your black metal riff-centric and melodic, this is an easy recommendation. Withering Soul may have reduced their sonic palette over the years, but the downsizing only made them leaner and meaner, and Passage of the Arcane is a lean, mean listen.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: witheringsoul.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/witheringsoulband | instagram.com/witheringsoul_77
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #35 #americanMetal #blackMetal #darkFortress #deathMetal #dissection #dormantOrdeal #liminalDreadProductions #melodicBlackMetal #moonspell #nov25 #passageOfTheArcane #review #reviews #typeONegative #witheringSoul

Lamp of Murmuur – The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy Review

By Tyme

L.A.-based M., the mastermind behind Lamp of Murmuur, has been busy this year. In addition to releasing two other solo projects—Silent Thunder’s EP, Soulspear, and Magus Lord’s full-length, In the Company of Champions—he’s readying to unleash his fourth Lamp of Murmuur long player, The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy, this November. Far removed from the very lo-fi, kvltish cassette-only demos of 2019, Lamp of Murmuur has steadily matured over the years. Our resident shark, Carcharodon, had ‘tons of fucking fun’ with 2023’s Saturnian Bloodstorm, highlighting its heavy Immortal influence. When I spied The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy sitting unclaimed in the sump, I reached out to our scrivening squalus, who graciously ceded his seniority, hoping I had as much fun with LoM’s newest outing as he had with its last. Will The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy build off the excitement of Saturnian Bloodstorm, and further M.’s musical momentum, or will we discover that Lamp of Murmuur’s shine has dimmed a bit?

At first blush, The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy extends Saturnian Bloodstorm’s thrashing black metal template before wading into waters teeming with new wave and gothic metal elements. Immortal’s influence still lurks amidst M.’s swirling, rapid-fire tremolos and galloping chugs (“Hategate (the Dream-Master’s Realm)”), while twinkling, Këkht Aräkh-like keys lace the guitar-driven melodies on “Forest of Hallucinations,” its intro emitting South of Heaven-era Slayer vibes from the harmonized leads. M.’s vocals, as blackly metallic and viscerally lethal as ever, are dichotomously connected to the music and venture into minimally explored cleaner climes while sharing the spotlight on “A Brute Angel’s Sorrow” with guest vocalist Crying Orc (Këkht Aräkh).1 For beyond the Nightmare on Elm Street meets Black Aria2 vibes of instrumental opener “The Fires of Seduction,” lie the equally moody atmospheres of mid-album interlude “Angelic Vortex,” which serves as a portal, ushering listeners from Lamp of Murmuur’s past into what The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy represents for the project’s future.

Three-part title track, “The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy,” is the album highlight. Without jettisoning its black metal roots, Lamp of Murmuur shrouds this triptych in a Sólstafiric, proggy haze of spacy, 70s-style rock guitar solos and cascading Phantom of the Operatic progressions (“Part I – Moondance”), melodic, soaring leads (“Part II – Twilight Orgasm”) and a romping, symphonic paganism (“Part III – The Fall”) reminiscent of early Old Man’s Child. In addition, M.’s broadening, clean vocals inject new-wave intensity into the non-harsh moments of “Moondance,” a Moroder & Bowie “Cat People (Putting Out the Fire)” feel into the latter croons of “Twilight Orgasm,” and an effective, Cattle Decapitation-esque tonal rasp into “The Fall.” I think I had as much fun diving in and out of the waters of this stretch of TDPiE as our beloved sharkster had ingesting the whole of Saturnian Bloodstorm.

As often as dichotomy spearheads musical diversity, however, it can also foster unintended inconsistency, and in the court of The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy’s case, the latter unfortunately testifies loudest. As many moments of greatness exist on both halves of TDPiE’s whole, so too do some missteps. M.’s first instance of cleans, for example, at the end of “Hategate (The Dream-Master’s Realm)” sound out of tune and pulled me from an otherwise enjoyable listen during every spin. In addition, “Part I – Moondance” contains some awkwardly off-key musical transitions, and at times, the staccato, machine-gun riffage in “Part III – The Fall” feels out of sync with the drumming. And as much as I enjoyed the acoustically well-executed and clean-sung “A Brute Angel’s Sorrow,” its off-putting, last-batter-in-the-lineup positioning completely saps the majesty from the silence left in the wake of “Part III – The Fall”‘s last powerful chord.

A tenet often adhered to despite its obtusity is that broadened popularity for a band that launched its career from the darkened shadows of the kvlt black metal world usually leads to its death or disownment. In the case of Lamp of Murmuur, a forerunner of the current USBM scene, opinions may vary. As it stands, The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy is a full-length that, if released as a pair of EPs, might have transcended its holistic inconsistencies. I’ve grown past the distaste I felt on initial listens to appreciate both sides of what Lamp of Murmuur has done here and look forward to M.’s continued growth, as should you.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Wolves of Hades
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #blackMetal #gothicMetal #immortal #kekhtArakh #lampOfMurmuur #nov25 #oldMansChild #review #solstafir #theDreamingPrinceInEcstasy #usbm #wolvesOfHadesRecords

Monograf – Occultation Review

By Creeping Ivy

In the world of academia, the ‘monograph’ reigns supreme. A book-length study of a single subject, a monograph should synthesize essay-length analyses into one argument that contributes something new to the scholar’s field. To analogize the world of music to academia: the monograph stands in for the album, demonstrating an artist’s ability to cohere individual songs into one holistic listen. Monograf, a Norwegian post-rock collective, published its first monograph in 2019. Nadir made a novel contribution to post-rock by adding Norwegian folk music to soundscapes reminiscent of Godspeed You! Black Emperor.1 As it reviews sophomore effort Occultation, the tenure board will determine whether Monograf is worthy of that increasingly elusive professional state—job security.

The academic analogy suits Mongraf, given the background of its primary composer. Erik Aanonsen is polymathic; he serves as vocalist and guitarist, writes the music and lyrics, and even provides nykkelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle). Aanonsen also leverages his degree in film scoring as producer and recording engineer for Occultation.2 With a keyboardist (Ingvill Trydal) and another fiddler in tow (Sunniva Molvær Ihlhaug), Monograf sculpt cinematic tracks that sound like a less droning Wyatt E. These songs weave serpentine riffs, atmospheric synths, and folky fiddling into a loud/quiet/loud tapestry. The fiddle melodies frequently take center stage, crescendoing into intense payoffs (“The Prophet,” “Cripplegate”). Despite being more compressed than a cinematic album should be, the production is delightfully organic, especially its crackling guitar tones. Essentially, Occultation scores its cover art: one can feel the heat rising in this druid-filled sonic desert.

Occultation explores a more metal subject than its post-rock predecessor, mostly with success. With album two, Monograf adds doom, progressive, and even extreme metal credentials to their CV.3 Aanonsen, second guitarist Martin Sivertsen, and bassist Hanna Sannes Aanonsen often begin songs with the droning simplicity of an Om-inspired riff that develops into complex noodling à la prog-era Opeth (“The Prophet,” “Occultation”). Drummer Erlend Markussen Kilane adds more complexity, roving between jazzy snare work, thundering tom hits, and scene-stealing fills (“Cripplegate,” “Carrion Seller”). Vocally, Aanonsen still delivers the ghostly cleans that dominate Nadir, but he adds a raspy shout to Occultation. For the most part, these harsh vocals create urgency that the music doesn’t quite call for. But occasionally, Monograf snags a catchy chorus out of Aanonsen’s shout (“Occultation”).

Monograf aptly structures Occultation as a whole, though the songwriting strategy grows repetitive. Occultation is a dyad; a mid-album breather (“Ashes”) divides halves comprised of two longer songs. “The Prophet” and “Cripplegate” kick things off with compelling call-and-response arrangements: the riffs call, the fiddle responds. “Ashes” is a welcome reprieve, smothering intimate acoustic chords and Aanonsen’s gorgeous cleans underneath drum flourishes that swell in volume. The track comes off, however, as a bit of an academic exercise. Once “Carrion Seller” kicks in, the listener realizes that the call-and-response song structure is something of a formula. Fortunately, closer “Occultation” varies the formula, feeling more like a slow burn than a riff/fiddle conversation.

Monograf should feel secure in their new, metal-adjacent specialization. Despite my criticism of Occultation’s repetitive songwriting, its 40-minute runtime invites repeat visitations of its alluring soundscape. Fans of drone and doom should especially take notice. While its folk-infused heaviness is not an intervention on par with the most recent Wyatt E. release, Occultation skillfully balances hypnotism and memorability in its riffwork. On monograph three, I suspect that Monograf will inch closer to the oasis in the desert that is the tenure track.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordic Mission
Websites: monograf.bandcamp.com/ | facebook.com/monografband | instagram.com/monografband
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #antestor #doomMetal #drone #folk #godspeedYouBlackEmperor #monograf #nordicMission #norwegianMetal #nov25 #occultation #om #opeth #overheadProductions #postRock #progressiveMetal #review #reviews #wyattE

Esprit D’Air – Aeons Review

By Baguette of Bodom

Electronic music and metal joining forces is often treated with suspicion. Not electronic in the ‘band member finds a Casio keyboard in their cellar’ sense,1 but a genuine fusion of the two with synthesizers on the forefront. Esprit D’Air is one of the more recent bands making waves with their take on this mix. A Japanese band formed in London in 2010 and spearheaded by Kai (The Sisters of Mercy—yes, that one), they’ve quickly formed their identity around a catchy blend of alternative metal, J-rock, and trance, among other stranger things. One break-up and reformation later, debut album Constellations finally appeared in 2017, followed by 2022’s Oceans and 2024’s Seasons.2 Fourth full-length Aeons is looking to delve deeper into Esprit D’Air’s niche, attempting a more varied package without any of their usual guest features help. How do they handle this melting pot of genres alone?

Aeons is here to have fun, first and foremost. While the resurrected post-2016 incarnation of Esprit D’Air is technically a solo project—Kai being the only ‘official’ full-time member—they do function as a band in practice. Frontman Kai and partner-in-crime Takeshi Tokunaga are behind most of the album’s writing and instrumentation, with Jan-Vincent Velazco handling the drum department. It’s difficult to pin down simple comparison points to Esprit D’Air’s genre soup shenanigans, but the majority of Aeons is built around alternative metal filtered through an anthemic, rock-oriented quality, the likes of X Japan (“Like a Phoenix”). Occasionally, their sound even leans towards the AOR, power-ish metal soar of newer Battle Beast (“Shadow of Time,” “Silver Leaf”). The guitar work usually resides next to or behind the keyboards, but it does a fine job adding extra heaviness to the album, and the instrumentation in general is tight and snappy. Kai’s vocal chops also play a major role on the record, further decorating strong choruses with melodic, J-rock-inspired vocal lines (“Chronos,” “羽ばたけ”).

Esprit D’Air has a penchant for strong hooks, especially on keyboards. Tracks like “Silver Leaf” and “Like a Phoenix” highlight the album’s greatest strengths, fusing together J-rock with extremely catchy synth patches that borrow from both techno and trance. Crucially, its multifaceted arsenal of keyboard and guitar styles makes the songs distinct from one another. Though the guitars could be more prominent, their relatively simplistic rhythmic role is complemented by powerful leads and intricate solo work when needed. The band’s attitude on instrumentation and songwriting is at times reminiscent of the way Elyose fuses early 2000s electronic and metal influences together, occasionally drifting towards their modern djentier alt-metal sound (“Chronos,” Lost Horizon”) or even the melodic downtuned attack of Periphery (“Quetzalcoatl”). Through their spectrum of styles, Aeons fulfills the band’s threat to feature more variety in a sleeker form.

The variety of Aeons, while intriguing, is a double-edged sword. There’s a particular spot around tracks 8–10 where the album’s alternative edge morphs into an edgier, nu-informed sound, both instrumentally and vocally (“Broken Mirror,” “絶望の光”). Despite Esprit D’Air kind of pulling it off, it doesn’t fit the album’s mood, especially not with all of it centered on one region. Half-ballad “Stardust” also quiets the album’s thunder somewhat, its bright but melancholic soundscape causing Kai to overstep his optimal vocal range. Fortunately, the majority of Aeons is memorable and at times even infectious. Its brevity softens its missteps; where Oceans landed at almost an hour, Aeons does more in nearly half the amount of time. This slick 35-minute runtime means its speed bumps aren’t fatal, but the middle of the album does still sag in comparison to the powerful start and finish.

Aeons ends up being an entertaining, tight bundle of melodic genre-defying goodness. Its catchy rock/metal attack blends together everything ’00s, and the electronic influences are particularly satisfying. The record’s inconsistency does leave something to be desired, and its sonical direction is unfocused at points, but the positives ultimately outweigh its stumbles. When I picked up the promo for Aeons, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into or what to expect. Now, it’s apparent Esprit D’Air have made an album that amounts to more than its components imply. I reckon their appeal can reach beyond their cited genre tags, and there’s plenty of room to further expand on their best qualities in the future.

Rating: Good!
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: FLAC
Label: Starstorm Records (self-run)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #aeons #alternativeMetal #battleBeast #electronicMetal #electronicore #elyose #espritDair #jRock #japaneseMetal #nov25 #periphery #review #reviews #starstormRecords #theSistersOfMercy #tranceMetal #xJapan

Putrevore – Unending Rotten Cycle Review

By Alekhines Gun

Inevitable. Perpetual. Eternal. Constant. And of course, Unending. All monikers appropriate for the supremacy of death, widely recognized by figures wiser than me as the most unifying of all our experiences. Whether your death is peaceful, disease-ridden, or a sudden explosion of macabre tragedy, it will come, and it will bear a face unique to your own experience. It’s fitting, then, that death metal too has such an inexhaustible supply of manifestations and sonic descriptors from which to draw from. There’s seemingly no end to the offshoots of subgenres and tributes and evolutions to be found around the world, but no matter how wanky or prog-infused the labels get, as time moves forward, death still awaits. Putrevore are a two-piece international outfit, one of innumerable side projects from Rogga Johnson (Paganizer) and Dave Rotten of Avulsed. Here to escort us through the cemetery on their fifth album, Unending Rotten Cycle, the question isn’t whether you will get out alive, but how mangled and abused your corpse will be by the time we’re finished.

That Putrevore offer up death metal is no surprise, but this is no bright sounding colorful death. Unending Rotten Cycle is that wet death, that freshly tilled, earthworm-infested, “the body is equal parts chunky and liquid” moist and cooled soil breed of death. With a tone like old Autopsy recorded in a cavernous depth, Putrevore offer up a smorgasbord of blasts and assaults devoid of anything offering reprieve or hope. Acoustic interludes? Melodic runs? Forget about it. Unending Rotten Cycle operates on a two-pronged assault of steamroller attacks which alternate into a crushing riff or groove that pulls from the well of all the maggot-infested giants of past and present, while Dave Rotten’s large-intestine-originated bellows holler from below and amidst the music, drenched in reverb and disgust.

Every song on display features a highlight worthy of note, and standouts really depend on which cadaverific presentation you’re most into. “Mortal Ways of the Flesh” features a devastatingly foul chuggathon slathered with just a whiff of hair-windmill inducing lead pulled from the book of Funebrarum, while “Morbid Procession” reminds one of the more frantic moments of Incantations Onward to Golgotha. “They Worship Disarray” has a shockingly accessible crowd-chant of a chorus with Dave Rotten’s voice paradoxically clear and enunciated despite sounding like bubbles erupting from a pool of miasma. The filth of Fetid is laced through blasts beats, and down-tempo lurches, while vintage Phrenelith destruction echoes through “The Cradle Replaced by the Grave.” Doses of Vastum, Demilich, Funebre, and Mortiferium leave their fingerprints across tempo changes, diseased-sounding scales, and one corpse sodomizing groove after another.

The final product results in Unending Rotten Cycle being a succinct, straightforward, and high-quality offering of the most decomposed breed of death metal. Guitarist/Bassist Rogga Johnson excavates riffs that manage to touch on so many flavors and sounds that I could burn my whole word count trying to name and list them all. The only real downside to this sort of presentation is that it threatens to become overwhelmed by the uniformity of what it sets out to do. And yet, brevity in song composition and album length help combat this, with each track coming in, throwing a slab of corpse meat at you, and running off before you have the chance to process how violated you are. “The Cradle Replaced by the Grave” does a good job at just grazing a shift in atmosphere to announce it as an album closer, featuring the most moody of its chord progressions and whiff of leads before leaving your coffin shattered and tattered. At a hair over half an hour in length, the listener has no opportunity to succumb to boredom as Putrevore wisely peace out at a timely moment, leaving you with the silence of the cemetery for company.

Unending Rotten Cycle stands tall as a testament to the inexhaustible possibilities of death. A glut of excellent riffs and a relatively short presentation ensure that, despite the (deliberate) stylistic limitations, Putrevore manage to squeeze the maximum amount of offal from this corpse. If you like death metal and you’re tired of overly polished wankery or needlessly humanized presentations, I cannot imagine this being anything but a ghastly joy to listen to. Death metal will always rule the roost, and while far from innovative, Unending Rotten Cycle reigns supreme in its fierce display of the genre’s might, impact, and staying power. Now, everyone grab a shovel, and start digging. Six feet should be more than sufficient for our needs…

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Xtreem Music
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: November 11th, 2025

#35 #autopsy #deathMetal #demilich #fetid #funebrarum #funebre #incantation #internationalMetal #mortiferium #nov25 #phrenelith #putrevore #review #reviews #unendingRottenCycle #vastum #xtreemMusic

The Reticent – please Review

By Killjoy

Anguish is an emotion commonly portrayed in many metal subgenres. While other artists tend to convey it in a general or abstract sense, The Reticent’s brand of anguish is specific and viscerally personal. Huck N Roll bid them a somber welcome to this site in 2016 with On the Eve of a Goodbye, an introspective work about the suicide of founder Chris Hathcock’s close friend. In 2020, The Oubliette unflinchingly detailed the merciless deterioration of an Alzheimer’s patient from onset to demise. Now, after five long years, The Reticent returns with another progressive metal entry, this time to shine a light on the topic of mental illness and its causal relationship with suicide. Drawing from Hathcock’s own struggles and experiences, please promises to be as gut-wrenching as ever.

Similar to The Reticent’s more recent output, the prevailing style of please is slick and smooth modern prog metal with occasional death and black metal tinges. Hathcock’s singing voice is as crisp and clear as ever, and he accentuates the emotional impact with well-placed growls and screams. The effortless melding of light and heavy frequently reminds me of Opeth’s The Last Will and Testament from last year. The key difference, however, is that The Reticent does not shy away from placing their inner demons on full display. This is best exemplified by the unexpected foray into dissonant death metal territory on “The Bed of Wasps (Those Consumed with Panic)”, which is unquestionably the heaviest material The Reticent has written to date (even more so than “Stage 5: The Nightmare” from The Oubliette).

The Reticent expertly employs many musical methods throughout please to reflect the myriad forms of mental illness. James Nelson’s and Paul McBride’s cascading guitar and bass lines in “The Night River (Those Who Can’t Rest),” along with Hathcock’s flowing tom rolls, are like the intricate web of thoughts that an insomniac’s mind might spin. The aforementioned dissonant flurry of “The Bed of Wasps (Those Consumed with Panic)” is the sonic equivalent of an anxiety attack, with constant time signature changes and tormented vocals. “The Riptide (Those Without Hope)” floats by at a despondent, languid pace, the singing soaked with depressive acceptance.1 It’s ironic and heartbreaking that “The Chance (Those Who Let Go)” is the most hopeful and uplifting in tone, given that it’s about an individual resolved to suicide. The previously calm drumming becomes desperate and frantic at the very end before abruptly cutting off as if a trigger had been pulled.

Although please is musically as good or better than The Reticent’s usual standards, it’s impaired by a greater dependence on narration. “Diagnosis 1” and “Diagnosis 2” are irksome interruptions that take up five minutes in total, describing the symptoms of anxiety and major depressive disorder. I can see the justification for “Intake,” which briefly lays out some suicide statistics and leads into the first proper song, and “Discharge,” which reflects on the aftermath of suicide via a recording of a woman whose husband took his own life, but both tracks should have been shortened. To make matters worse, some of the proper songs contain their own narrative segments as well. please is at its most powerful when the simple yet piercing lyrics2 are allowed to speak for themselves3 as opposed to shoehorning clinical informative tidbits.

please is not exactly a fun experience, but its message is an important one. It’s an unequivocal declaration that mental illness is very real, millions of people live with it, and many ultimately make the horrific choice not to. The Reticent does an excellent job of bringing this issue to life with thoughtfully crafted music. If the heavy-handed narrative elements had been pared back in exchange for one more quality song, the score below would easily have been half a point higher or more. Notwithstanding, please is a crucial reminder that we don’t know what unseen struggles others might experience. Always be kind; it can make all the difference.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Generation Prog Records
Websites: Bandcamp4 | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 13th, 2025

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