Written By:  Lord Lucan

In today’s fast-paced world where instant gratification is king, once a winning formula has been established, it’s tempting for many bands to play it safe, shy away from experimentation, and resort to simply churning out variations on the same record every few years (*cough* Amon Amarth *cough*). I always have a lot of respect therefore for musicians who are willing to take a risk, mix things up a bit and diversify their style – creating their own record as opposed to simply writing what is expected of them. Agatus are one such band. Starting life as an underground black metal act in Athens in the early nineties, over the years the Greek duo have gradually adopted a more traditional heavy metal sound, with their most unabashed demonstration of this evolution being The Eternalist. Owing to the relatively small size of their discography in relation to the length of time they’ve been active – The Eternalist is only their third full-length studio album in over 20 years. At this stage, one poor outing has the potential to tarnish their legacy quite significantly, so the stakes are high. Whether or not their change in direction ultimately pays off, it’s difficult not to admire their moxie.

And what a change in direction it is too. The Agatus heard on The Eternalist is virtually unrecognizable as the same band who wrote Dawn of Martyrdom and The Weaving Fates, having shed their black metal skin almost entirely. Upon firing up the record, what the listener is presented with instead is a healthy dollop of ‘80s nostalgia, straight out of the annals of NWoBHM lore, paying homage to titans such as Diamond Head and Grim Reaper. Rather than blast beats and tremolo picking, the record is characterized by its downtrodden, doomy vibe and groove-laden solos. Eponymous opener “The Eternalist” and “Dreamer” showcase riffs that would sound right at home in the context of an Angel Witch record, and stylistically, the soaring wah-wah tone of “Perils of the Sea (Part II)” has more in common with Y&T than a band who have previously collaborated with the likes of Absu and Varathron. It’s clear that Agatus set out here to emulate the traditional stylings of the early heavy metal scene and in this regard, they absolutely nailed it.

Make no mistake, however, while the sound that they have created here is damned impressive, The Eternalist does have its flaws. Most of the record strolls along at a mid-tempo pace, and even brisker offerings, such as “The Invisible (Fifth Portal to Atlantis),” still come across as a bit languid. At times it feels as though they’re actively reining themselves in, and on more than one occasion I found myself urging the band to just crack on and let rip. It doesn’t completely spoil the album by any means, but it does lend it a bit of a half-baked vibe at times, which is rather a shame.

Making up for The Eternalist’s somewhat geriatric pace, however is its production value, which is downright glorious. Brothers Eskarth the Dark One and Archon Vorskaath (or Chris and Dimitros as they’re known to their mom) carry out all of the instrumental duties themselves, and the production is nicely balanced, with a warm, analog-like quality throughout. It really does sound very pretty indeed and provides the entire record with an authentic feel that takes skill to execute convincingly.

Its faults notwithstanding, The Eternalist is a formidable album, and particularly when considering the band’s roots lie on an entirely different plane of the metal spectrum altogether, although I’ll admit to being a little unsure as to how it will be received by fans of their earlier work. Black metal devotees are hardly renowned for their open-mindedness and, unless your name is Fenriz or Nocturno Culto, branching away from the style almost altogether without being hung, drawn and quartered by the corpsepaint brigade is no small undertaking. For Agatus’ sake, therefore, I hope The Eternalist is given the time of day it deserves. It’s by no means perfect, however, it’s a solid, well-executed record that demonstrates ambition, not to mention a stubborn unwillingness to rest on their laurels and get too comfortable. If nothing else, they deserve plaudits for this alone.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hell’s Headbangers
Websites: agatus-greece.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/AgatusOfficial
Releases Worldwide: October 9th, 2016

Written By: Pándaros

Were a ghost to appear in the night and tell me that a respectable black-metal band would release an album, and that that album would stretch the genre by reverting back to the classics, to NWOBHM and to 80s thrash, I would have lept from my bed and begun googling leaks of the record foretold. Black metal has branched in so many directions, but its legion subgenres fit for the most part into two pockets of a Venn diagram. One holds the kvlty loyalists, the other the millennial trailblazers, looking to toss some extra reverb and poppy chord progressions for mood and ambience. With The Eternalist, Greek mainstay Agatus (of Dawn of Martyrdom and The Weaving Fates fame) make the nifty move of citing sources less common in the black-metal paradigm, but so canonical, so unassailable to those who rock, that even the ones denying Darkthrone’s existence after Sardonic Wrath would admit to having heard (and loved) this material too.

It’s all there in the first five seconds: the title track opens with a hard, tight hook that would’ve felt at home on Blizzard of Oz, Screaming for Vengeance, or Piece of Mind, before the keyboard sprawls synthesizer tones on top, expressing a kind of self-delight with the riff. Such relics are littered throughout the record, thanks mostly to the robust twin-guitar work from lead man, “The Dark” (formerly, “Eskarth the Dark One”). “The Oath (Of Magic and Fire),” begins with thrashy trills that sound eerily similar to those opening “Seek & Destroy,” and “Dreamer” has a palm-muted section that could have been taken from the bridge to an early Van Halen song. If The Eternalist does hold up as black metal, which some might debate, it wields a heavier nostalgia than any I can remember hearing in the genre. With each throwback the album almost seems to ask, “who couldn’t like this?”

Well, if “this” refers to each old-school riff, very few. But it’s with good reason people don’t clamor to see their local Iron Maiden cover band the way they do for Iron Maiden. Context matters, and it’s a band’s job to perfect whatever lick they can mine, while also laying it down convincingly on a stage or in a studio. It need not be masterful: in that cinematic masterpiece, School of Rock, there’s something right about the kids’ ad-hoc jam to “Smoke on the Water”—their smiles show how much they love it. Unfortunately, Agatus never seem so inspired, and therefore never so inspiring.

The production is partly to blame. It’s hard not to sound empty when the instruments, crammed in their corners, almost never get to share space on the recording. This sterility not only comes as a surprise given its deviation from the fuzzier sonics of traditional black metal—and Agatus’s earlier, well-liked releases — but also draws attention to the album’s weakest component, the vocals. Whether you prefer clean or harsh, you know they are bad when a singer, so unsuccessful at both, renders them nearly indistinguishable. The songwriting hardly redeems this flaw, because even a talent would have a hard time making lines like “Children became kings. / Kings became gods. / Gods were worshipped / and immortalized by men” not seem thoughtlessly cobbled together.

And really it’s the cobbled together-ness of this release that turns a great idea into a failure so hard to listen to. However wonderful it would have been for Agatus to find middle ground in that Venn diagram, welcoming all fans of black metal with their paradoxically reverent method of breaking convention, The Eternalist does not offer much more than a self-satisfaction at its own citation. Agatus focus all their attention on the quote, yet somehow neglect what is necessary to accommodate it. Thus, they actually waste what they source. Listening to the album I wanted so badly to throw on some old Judas Priest just to make sure my love for them was not just golden-age bias (it wasn’t). Even if the duality in black-metal becomes a stagnant fixture, I would rather wait for a more careful band to dig up the greats than feel such doubt again.

Rating: 1.5/5.0

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Written By: Akerblogger

Bergen is a charming city located on the west coast of Norway. It’s Europe’s utopia, a haven from scum and villainy and home to wonderful landscapes, picturesque architecture, politeness, order, harmony, and BLACK METAL! Tortorum claim to be from Bergen although the two founding members of the band are from the UK and Poland. Despite this, the evilness that resonates from the name Bergen is undeniable. I’m shaking as I type this and I haven’t slept since I received the promo because I fear the terrors that Tortorum may summon. Rotten. Dead. Forgotten. is a mini-album straight from the demonic depths of Hell. Proceed, if you dare.

“All Suns Black” follows the not-really-spooky introduction instrumental “Iao Al.” I’m not sure if I received a dodgy promo copy or not because there is the most ridiculously jarring transition from the end of the instrumental opener and the second song. The sound abruptly cuts off and there is a blatant change in tone and frequency. I’m baffled as to how it went unnoticed. It’s as if during production the band sat around and thought “eh, no one will notice, right? Let’s get drunk.” It’s a real shame that such a blatant and careless mistake was made because “All Suns Black,” the first proper song, is a decent mid-paced, black-metal romp with twisted and gnarled vocals groping for breath against solid, but rather generic, riffs and varied blast-beat infested drumming.  Production wise, despite the major blunder at the opener, the album sounds decent enough but even the most masterful of productions would not have been able to salvage much.

“Night of the Witch” opens with a similar reverb-heavy, slightly off-key arpeggio that trudges into realms of mid-paced desperation and despair. I feel like I’ve heard this song a million times this year already. It has a mix of the straightforward late 80’s black-thrash groove and more recent “unorthodox” sounding black metal. Although it’s not bad it’s not really that good either. The song does nothing to really spark any form of excitement or energy. The basslines are bubbly and interesting enough, the riffs are catchy, the vocals snarled, the drums drumming, but that is ultimately it. It’s like a pet goldfish: it keeps you mildly entertained for a bit until it spends the rest of its life just sort of floating around gloomily, wallowing in its lonely and dumb misery. You can tap the glass, probing, encouraging, really wanting it to do something interesting, but in reality, as I should have known, it’s too simple-minded.

Maybe I’m being too harsh here, but I can’t rid the stale lingering taste from my mouth. The mysterious and cryptic approach, when done properly (ala Dodecahedron and Deathspell Omega) can lead to some incredible things, however, Tortorum fall severely short. “Life is the Enemy,” for example, is a truly meh song. It washes through various bland stages of dissonant riffs and barnstorming drumming before fading out without having built towards anything of merit.  This is my main gripe with Rotten. Dead. Forgotten: the songs are aimless. Final track “Black Mantra Mysteries” is similarly stagnant. Despite the occasional interesting turn, like at 4:10, where the lead guitar moves into more melodic vistas, the song surges blindly head before fading to black.

Penultimate track “Lucifer Victrix” slows things down. This is a good thing, allowing the song to breathe and an atmosphere, sorely missing, to temporarily emerge (although it soon retreats back to whence it came). The vocals are the crowning glory of this dying king. They’re varied and full of bitterness and venom – the torturous blurts in “Night of the Witch” a prime example – though occasionally, unintentionally, they become comedic and distracting. A spoken word passage at the five-minute mark of “Lucifer Victrix” is a clear attempt at adding drama and variation, although it taints, rather than spruces up proceedings, sounding more like the sore-throated shouts of a drunkard trying to find his keys. Similarly, distracting echoing gutturals towards the end of final track “Black Mantra Mysteries” are, once again, less epic and more comedic, sounding less malignant and haunting and more like the dumb shouts of a caveman trying to break into a coconut with a feather.

Rotten. Dead. Forgotten. is an aptly titled album and it stirs up little emotion. I feel completely apathetic. Rather than blossoming in my mind and opening up new areas for discovery and enjoyment listen after listen, it rots, withers, and leaves a morbid mess on my frazzled brain. Next!

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 224 kbps mp3
Label: World Terror Committee
Websites: facebook.com/Tortorum
Releases Worldwide: October 13th, 2016

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Written By:  GardensTale

Ah, the seventies. An excellent decade for wanton sex, drug abuse and consequently, psychedelic music. In the common mindset, the foremost psychedelic band is of course Pink Floyd, and with good reason. But another influential band that tends to get overlooked, is Hawkwind, who had a bit more oomph than the aforementioned space rock colossus, using experimental timbres and textures to accentuate their otherwise fairly straightforward proto-metal. The influence of Hawkwind (who, amazingly, are still around) is clear on the debut of the trippy Swedish quartet Katla in their mix of old school stoner rock, surprising guitar textures and warbling synthesizers. But have no fear; they have more in store for you than a cardboard copy.

For one, vocal duties have not befallen another hairy manperson; instead, a woman (only known as Lisa) infuses the disc with her voice, and does so admirably. Her timbre brings to mind a younger version of Elizabeth Blackwell (Castle), but her delivery is more airy and haunting, sacrificing some punch for a more mysterious and atmospheric take that works especially well on the quieter tracks. Some lyrical awkwardness like the occasional ad-lib or unnecessary vocalization doesn’t take much away from this either, although her pronunciation edges into ESL territory at times. The only real shortcomings break through some of the heavier tracks, like “Eat Sleep Die” when her range proves slightly more limited and she just can’t muster enough punch.

That little minus comes wrapped in a big plus: Katla perfectly manages to balance a great deal of musical variety without ever sounding like anything but themselves. From the throbbing hooks of opener “Horsehead” to the surprising major key punk riffing in “A Black Slimy Smooth and Tongue-shaped Form,” the band makes sure you’re never bored. Along the way there are forays into jangling blues guitars on “Circles,” The Sword-like riffing interspersed with atmospheric interludes on “Eat Sleep Die,” and a slow build from hazy country rock into a peyote-filled tidal wave on album standout “Endless Journey.” The sound doesn’t rely on heaviness to carry it across but employs strong hooks and a good sense of atmosphere, accomplished by layered guitars, warbling Hawkwindian synths and occasionally the tasteful and appropriate addition of cello. None of the songs overstay their welcome, with the exception of “Illusion” which lacks an end-goal and drifts on too long.

Production-wise, “Embryo” is full tilt seventies worship. The guitars and synths have a typical sound that retroifies the album, especially when reverb or mild flanging are employed. The master is a tad compressed, not given full room to breathe, but not in a brickwalled sense – rather, it increases the feel of an older album, created in the time of 4-8 tracks instead of 128 tracks. It’s a stylistic choice that works best for the atmosphere-laden cuts. It doesn’t support the heavier songs though, which sound alright on earbuds or a car stereo but lack depth and punch on higher quality systems or headphones. Coupled with the minor vocal issues these cripple the heaviness, thus the stompers are among the weaker songs. The mix puts the vocals too high and the bass too low as well, which exacerbates the problem. Better balance in the levels would certainly improve the low-end and help the foundation of the overall sound.

If the heaviness had been the focus of the album this might have been a dealbreaker, but thankfully it isn’t, and so it remains a small mark on a promising debut. It’s not an album that will win any awards or blow any minds, but it’s a solid debut that will still get an occasional spin from me. If their sophomore effort shows some improvement in the production, Katla has what it takes to create a winning formula.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: katla.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/wearekatla
Releases Worldwide: September 30th, 2016

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Written By: Lord Lucan

For black metal songwriters in search of strong conceptual themes, few subjects capture the imagination like the intricate folklore of European paganism. Not only are the old myths and traditions fascinating in their own right, the celebration of pre-Christian heritage is unequivocally akin to waving a big fat middle finger in the direction of modern religion – a practice firmly in line with the general ethos of the genre. Hailing from the town of Ahlen in western Germany, Heimdalls Wacht are one such band. Describing themselves rather extravagantly as ‘anti-Christian pagan musical art,’ they write hard-hitting, riff-driven black metal with a strong emphasis on pagan cultural heritage. In the 12 years they have been active, the band have written a formidable six full-length studio albums, with their seventh, Geisterseher, due for release on October 14th.

Having previously been signed up to Christhunt Productions – a somewhat notorious label known for working with a smattering of established NSBM and RAC acts, such as Absurd and Totenburg – Heimdalls Wacht have at times faced accusations of harboring far-right sympathies themselves – a charge which the band strongly deny. As their vocals are delivered in German – a language which I do not speak myself – I’m unable to form an opinion as to whether or not the allegations have any grounding, however since they have now cut ties with Christhunt altogether, for the purposes of this review I’m prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt.

It doesn’t take much of an initial foray into Geisterseher to tell that a lot of effort has gone into the writing. Each track is long and meandering – only one clocks in below six minutes – and showcases formidable musicianship. While Heimdalls Wacht lack the delicate aesthetics of the likes of Winterfylleth, Fen or Wodensthrone (R.I.P.), they make up for it with a deluge of infectious riffs and hooks which have a natural, self-assured flow, punctuated with formidable drum work and some nifty tempo changes to keep the listener on their toes. Vocals predominantly arrive in the form of harsh growls and shrieks, as one might expect, however from time to time clean chants from bassist Saruman punctuate the chaos, working well more often than not.

Although Heimdalls Wacht are predominantly a black metal act, it’s clear they source inspiration from other genres and styles as well. The chugging, thrashy riffs of “Der Kommende Gott (Treffen mit Sabazios),” for example, are pure Metallica worship, and the stripped back intro to “Taedium Vitae” is eerily reminiscent of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man.” As such, the influences the band apply to their music make for an engaging and unconventional record, which has the power to surprise and delight in equal measure.

This all said however, Geisterseher is far from perfect. The production is functional at best, and some of the songs do feel a bit drawn out – opener “Spökenkieker” being a prime example. Clocking in at nine minutes, it feels conspicuously overlong, with decent riffs flogged almost to death through seemingly endless repetition, and this is a bit of a pity as it’s utterly unnecessary; the track would lose nothing by being two or three minutes shorter. Additionally, although paganism evidently comprises a significant part of the band’s thematic identity, this is manifested purely lyrically, as opposed to via the use of traditional folk instrumentation. Now while I’m not suggesting they should not be writing in their mother tongue, what this does mean is that for the majority of casual listeners the whole pagan angle will likely be lost entirely, and this does seem like rather a shame.

Its flaws notwithstanding however, in Geisterseher Heimdalls Wacht have written a genuinely impressive record, and considering the startling regularity with which they are able to churn out albums, it’s clear that thought and consideration has gone into it at almost every step of the way. Setting aside the character allegations made against them and focusing purely on their music alone, they have created an engaging, varied and entertaining spin on the black metal genre, and for this at least they deserve to be commended.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Trollzorn Records
Websites: heimdallswacht.de | heimdallswacht.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: October 14th, 2016

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Written By: Dr Wvrm

It was noted in the comments that there’s been a lot of negativity around here lately. That’s not false: 2016 has suffered the runs worse than a 3rd grade recorder recital that accidentally hit the brown note. Whether that’s due to an outflow of compelling material, the recent infestation of scrubs (That’s Dr. Scrvb to you), or just something in the water at AMG Inc., the readership can only take so much aspersion. So after I put my head on my desk and groaned precisely two minutes and sixteen seconds into The Era of Precarity, I swore I wouldn’t embrace the misery. If Re-Armed could generate a lick of positivity from their hyphenated frames, I was going to find it.

Revamped after band turmoil left vocalist Jouni Matilainen as the group’s only original member, the death-by-way-of-thrash outfit from Finland dumps much of the deathcore persuasion that characterized 2012’s Worldwide Hypnotize and 2014’s Rottendam. “Lullabye of Obedience” introduces a groove-death production fused with the meatier thrash riffing that restored bands like Testament, Exodus, and Kreator to prominence in recent years. Launching a weighty assault that might have been pilfered from the Hordes of Chaos sessions, proceedings are off to a promising start… until the “clean.” Quotes here because the vocals don’t shift out of Matilainen’s stilted growls, but they want to, oh so badly. Quasi-melodic and painful to listen to, they trumpet the immediately apparent lack of creativity that dominates The Era of Precarity. The remainder of “Lullabye” fares as you’d expect, identical verse section, identical chorus, bridge, chorus, solo, close. Lifting my head off my desk a second time, I hoped the album might rally, that a bad start didn’t presage a bad end. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

The Era of Precarity commits music’s cardinal sin: it’s boring. Re-Armed’s central direction maintains the technicality prerequisite for a death-based band but owns a certain eye-glazing effect. The Finns are impressively committed to repeating your average two-bar riff four times, then cutting an ostensibly different riff four more times. And then another. And another. This scarcity of variation invites the worst form of doublethink. Forty minutes plods along at quarter pace during active listens, while passive attempts zip by as the subconscious blends it all into one easily ignorable cacophony. “Through the Barricades;” “Years of Decay;” “The Aftermath;” “Cursed Beyond Belief;” after twelve spins, I can still barely separate one from another. Even the exciting aspects drag on too long, as enticing starts to “Riot Act” and “Evolve Cycle” go nowhere fast. Re-Armed do try to spruce the place up a bit; yet shoehorning in everything from synth to bluesy Pantera-style interludes fails to blunt the wall of noise.

Many of Era’s faults can be traced to its head-scratching origins as a concept album. I imagine the poor decision to neuter Matilainen to a mediocre half-growl was with the goal of keeping his lyrics intelligible. However, the lone string of plot or lyrical cohesiveness that emerges is the same non-descript “rise up against your faceless oppressors” gunk that tired out ten years ago. As a side effect, the resulting top-heavy mix leaves Iiro Karjalainen’s drums obscured throughout. I also suspect Re-Armed intended the quick burst of static nail-gunned onto the end of each track to play into their conceptual fantasy, but the transition often registers as no more than a jarring pop in the speakers. On the bright side, “Purification” and “Ivory Towers” survive as the most competent tracks and largely avoid the vanilla hue that colors the rest of the spin. The former employs a refreshingly different Dying Fetus-meets-Napalm Death approach while the latter is the pinnacle of Re-Armed’s vision, tight and focused with just enough gallops and bass noodling to stick.

I wanted to be positive, I really did, but there’s no way around poor product. The Era of Precarity watches paint dry to a blasé collection of beige riffs and non-deviant songwriting. Given Re-Armed’s proficiency at crafting less snore-inducing deathcore, perhaps any time with them would be better spent on previous offerings. If you must have a ray of sunshine from this nattering nabob of a review, a portion of the record’s sales heads to a Finnish charity for the elderly and youth. If that convinces you to invest in The Era of Precarity, well, you’re a better fellow than I. All I know is that next time I’m requesting doom so I can fully embrace the murk of all this pessimism.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Saarni Records
Websites: re-armed.net | facebook.com/rearmed
Releases Worldwide: September 30th, 2016

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Written By: Eldritch Elitist

Somewhere along my personal timeline of listening to extreme music I formed an imaginary line dividing two equally valid camps of folk metal. On one side, you have your bands of brooding boys who like to pose next to frozen streams for their promo shots in between discussions of just how great Windir was; on the other, you have your gangs of drunken revelers, crowding into the nearest tavern to relate raucous tales of wenches and trolls to any half-willing passersby. Not having been familiar with any Argentinian folk metal bands prior to hearing Vorgrum‘s full length debut Last Domain, I had no clue which style to expect… until I learned that one of the tracks is called “Potato Troll,” which leaves little room for doubt. Let’s party.

Last Domain borrows liberally from many of Finland’s numerous folk metal bands. At their core Vorgrum follows the Finnish melodeath template, adding sprinkles of blackened distortion and incorporating sounds from Finntroll (“Troll Villa,”) Ensiferum (“Legacy of the Ancients,”) and Whispered (“Scaring Us to Death”) among others. It would have been easy for Vorgrum to come across as a cheap knockoff with Last Domain if they had handled the material differently, yet miraculously the entirety of it feels fresh and energetic. All of the members contribute vocals here and with the assortment of screeches, squeals, grunts, chants, and cackles, it feels like the band had an absolute blast recording this thing. Add in an honest-to-God accordion courtesy of lead guitarist Folter, a consistently brisk pace (in terms of both tempo and album construction) and a good dose of humppa rhythms and you’ve got a folk metal record that’s as exuberant as it is listenable.

The levity of Last Domain is refreshing, but it (however unintentionally) acts as a red herring to distract from a lack of anything interesting going on in the guitar department. Riffs are typically of the bouncy, staccato, stop-start variety that Korpiklaani is so enamored with, and as Vorgrum’s sound is light on lead guitar, the lion’s share of the hooks go to the synths and accordion. That’s fine for this style of folk metal, but with songwriting so eclectic it’s a tad disappointing that the guitars don’t follow suit. Simple though the riffs may be, they work far better than they ought to because the songwriting on Last Domain is concise from start to finish. Vorgrum are huge believers in the “less is more” philosophy, and by the time the riffs in a given track hint at growing stale, the band is wrapping things up and racing onto the next song before boredom ever has a chance to set in.

Vorgrum‘s brevity makes for some seriously catchy and interesting (if not terribly complex) tunes; “Desert Knight,” for instance, intriguingly combines traditional Middle Eastern melodies with humppa folk and impressively aggressive vocals and drumming. I could go on for paragraphs praising individual tracks, but suffice it to say that each incorporates an effective gimmick to help it stand out. I realize that the word “gimmick” may come across as harsh, and in this case you would be half right. While supremely entertaining, Vorgrum seems to struggle to find a sound that’s unique to them, as they explore a wide range of them without ever settling for one they can call their own. It’s not a deal breaker, but going into Last Domain you should be expecting a fun collection of folk metal tunes rather than a cohesive affair. In regards to production, Last Domain sounds quite professionally mixed for an independently recorded album (despite the predictably obscured bass.) While the rhythm section can occasionally overpower the folk instrumentation, it’s never enough of a problem that it dampens the overall experience.

Despite Vorgrum‘s apparent identity crisis and lack of impressive guitar work, Last Domain is a totally enjoyable and eclectic record that I’m still digging after nearly a dozen listens. I feel that I can safely recommend this album to pretty much anyone who enjoys any of the bands I referenced above; if you fall into that category and don’t mind the prospect of barebones riffs, then you can safely add a point or two to my score. You’ll hear better folk metal albums this year, sure, but you’d be hard pressed to find a band having as much fun with the genre as Vorgrum

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: ? | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Via Nocturna
Websites: vorgrum.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/vorgrum
Releases Worldwide: September 30th, 2016

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Written By: Zephyrus

One of the most intriguing aspects of metal music is the incredible breadth of its various influences and styles. In fact, there are so many subgenres that some websites (mapofmetal.com) are entirely dedicated to their explanation and cataloging. This week I was introduced to another type of extreme music in the form of powerviolence. Characterized by hyper-aggressive, super-fast riffage and anti-establishment lyrics and themes, I’ve learned through experience that powerviolence is an excellent way to scare off potential dates and traumatize small children. This brings me to Tutti I Colori Del Buio (TICDB), our band of the hour and my gateway to the crusty world of hardcore punk. Having spent the last week studying their influences and absorbing as much sociopolitical angst as humanly possible, I have arrived at the conclusion that TICDB is about as powerful and violent as they come. Does this make debut album Initiation into Nothingness a worthwhile addition to the extreme punk metal scene? For the most part, I would argue yes.

Initiation into Nothingness barrels out the gates, wasting no time on introductions as opening track “Three Times Denied Means Fuck You” lays waste to the listener’s eardrums. The band draws clear inspiration from classic punk and hardcore acts such as Black Flag and Infest, but with a much more modern sound. Alessio Marchetti’s high pitched screeches are coupled with speedy, bass heavy strings and hard-hitting drums, combining to create a mosh-inducing medley of noise.

One of TICDB’s greatest strengths is their mastery of the riff, and the band’s ability to write a variety of head-banging hooks is what keeps the listener coming back repeatedly. The guitar work by Danilo Battocchio gives every song a unique identity and feel, and a number of surprise influences throughout the record establish TICDB as more than just generic punk rockers. For example, self-named track “Tutti I Colori Del Buio” would feel right at home on a Neurosis record, and its strategic placement in the middle of the album works as a great way of slowing things down and switching things up.

Sadly, many of the great ideas being offered end as quickly as they begin. In stark contrast to the ongoing Angry Metal discussions about bloated albums and a lack of editing, Initiation into Nothingness runs for a brief 27 minutes. In this short time span, TICDB have managed to fit eleven distinct tracks, with many of them spanning less than two minutes a piece. Such short run times and song lengths seem to be the standard for modern powerviolence releases, yet this doesn’t stop the music from feeling jarring. An excellent riff would just begin to sink in before being abruptly cut short, only to be replaced with something completely new. Regardless of pedigree, the album could have been made more enjoyable to all by further exploration of the ideas on display and a more cohesive feel between tracks.

Another theme that seems to plague modern hardcore releases is a lack of proper mixing. Initiation into Nothingness is crushingly heavy but lacks the sort of dynamics and fidelity that makes for great modern metal. When a whole record sounds as though its sole purpose is to register itself on the Richter scale, it’s impossible to make anything sound heavier than anything else. This extends to the writing too, but with many songs registering at DR4, Initiation into Nothingness often sounds pancake flat.

TICDB draws a large amount of inspiration from pulpy Italian horror movies, as demonstrated by their band’s title — a tribute to the 1972 movie of the same name. Now, I haven’t had the chance to see the film but based off Initiation into Nothingness it must have been quite spooky indeed. The music is hard-hitting, fast paced and atmospheric enough to instill the sense of angst and unease TICDB is going for. Initiation into Nothingness is a short but potent dose of hardcore, punky violence and while I’ve got my qualms with the mix, consistent loudness and song lengths, there’s nothing wrong with embracing the music for what it is and letting it satisfy your extreme metal needs.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bare Teeth Records
Websites: ticdb.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/ticdb
Releases Worldwide: October 8th, 2016

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Written By: GardensTale

You know, it’s funny. Metal sub-genres tend to be tied to certain areas of the world. We expect our black metal to come from Norway, our melodic death metal from Sweden or Finland, our poorly translated power metal from Italy. On the other side of the pond, we expect thrash from the Bay Area, metalcore from a local Hot Topic, and stoner metal from California. Of course, this has everything to do with the locations that spawned the genres in the first place, which only adds to my amazement that I find myself staring down the third Scandinavian stoner album in a month.

Captain Crimson are a different beast than the two debuts I praised before, however. With two records already under their belt, these boys have a confident swagger and straightforward gait, focusing on catchy riffs, a solid yet playful bass, and the voice of a 22-year-old kid cruising through Palm Desert in an open-top junker. Vocalist and founder Norén produces one-half of the authenticity of the geographically challenged band with a strong voice and a playfully offhanded inflection. It combines well with the joyous, energetic riffs not far removed from Fu Manchu. “Ghost Town” is a great way to open the album: full of fire with a riff that would make Clutch proud and ending with a great, groovy solo. “Bells from the Underground” has a slightly darker tone and pounds its riff into your skull with a sledgehammer. Centerpiece “Money” is the album’s biggest asset, however. It has a bluesy vibe you might encounter in a seedy Arizona dive bar and highlights all the band’s strengths: Norén’s emotive voice, more hooks than Velcro and bass thicker than a brick, finally culminating in a lengthy Skynyrdian solo that keeps you engaged throughout. If the whole album was this strong it might have made year’s end lists.

But as it turns out, “Money” rings in the end of the good half. “Drifting” saves itself from the bottom of the pile by sheer energy but it kicks off a notable drop in both quality and vitality. The second half doesn’t hook you the way the first did, failing to capitalize on the strong bass and forgetting to have fun. That self-assured swagger evaporates and it makes the band sound less experienced than they are. The exception is country ballad “Alone,” which aims for emotion instead of a groove, but it’s so similar to a famous Johnny Cash song it hurts. It feels more like a closer than a penultimate track, too, which leaves the profoundly unmemorable “Senseless Mind” dangling like a B-side that was added as a bonus. It’s a disappointing way to end the album, though on the whole the good tracks still outshine the middling ones.

But one more thing bugs me, although it’s a highly subjective matter: I miss a sense of uniquity, a personal identity. I recognize that the more someone specializes in a genre, the less two albums sound alike, as they can easily discern the differentiating details others might miss. I specifically called out Katla‘s sense of identity in my review of their debut, and Kremlin set themselves apart with great production and an attractive blues-centric approach. Captain Crimson don’t feel quite so independent, despite the more experienced and solidified songwriting. It’s telling that I keep feeling the urge to drop names of other bands, mostly Fu Manchu. On the whole the album is likable and has a few great tunes, but in a sea of similar stoner bands, I would likely not be able to pick them out.

However, putting the feather on the scales, Remind is a solid album. The vocals and bass are excellent, the guitar work punchy, and though uneven, the songwriting scrapes by on the strength of the first half. If you rarely listen to stoner, there’s probably better albums out there, but the discerning pothead should at the very least give “Ghost Town” and “Money” a whirl. As for myself, after the weak closer, it does sadden me a little to be surprised twice. I had not expected to review a triple threat of Scandinavian stoner in such a short period of time. But I’d expected less that one of them would sound just a bit too typically Californian.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Small Stone Records
Websites: captaincrimson.com | captaincrimson.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/CaptainCrimsonSwe
Releases Worldwide: October 14th, 2016

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Written By: Lord Lucan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Written By: GardensTale

Retro is the most marketable term for old junk we’ve ever come up with. The nostalgia driven desire to reproduce the splendor of 20 years ago, regardless of what year it is, pretty much started as soon as “20 years ago” no longer meant World War II, and it has only increased in magnitude and ubiquity since then. Now that the only flying cars in the new millennium turn out to be the ones too close to the explosions, the desire to look back through rose-tinted glasses is more evident than ever before. The 70s and 80s are the most prominent targets of such atavism, because who can remember the constant threat of nuclear annihilation anyway? Enter Existance (sic), a French band claiming to “keep the spirit of 80s metal alive.” Time to whip out the ridiculous hairdos and studded leather bracelets everyone!

If I seem critical of the retro movement, that’s mostly true. While I see nothing wrong with using what worked in the past, I see no value in ignoring what strides we have made since then. Music and other art forms get more leniency, but a complete disregard for three decades of progression leads to stagnation, already the biggest problem for metal as a whole. Existance don’t have any such concerns. The more they manage to emulate the kings of traditional heavy metal, the happier they seem to be. The particular subset is a blend of Riot, Accept, and Judas Priest. Guitars and vocals share the spotlight at the front, the drums support both adequately and a bass also exists. Most of the songs are embellished with golden era Maiden-inspired guitar licks and solos, while the vocals opt for a clean take like Riot. Even the production sounds as 80s as Bon Jovi in zebra stripe pants, though it thankfully avoids the most muddled examples of the era and allows enough definition on all instruments.

With the influences worn so proudly on the sleeve, it’s the songwriting of Breaking the Rock that has to make or break the album. Opener “Heavy Metal Fury” delivers right out of the gate on that area. After an obligatory yet unnecessary atmospheric intro the track bursts forth, firing enthusiastically on all engines. It’s tightly written, features a great riff and the energy crackles start to finish. The title track closes the album with a jet engine chorus and a vibrant pace. Retro or not, these are great songs; unfortunately, Existance can’t fill the bookends with pages of the same quality.

“Honest” nails the thrashy rapid-fire guitar chug, but it drops the ball on the uninspired gang vocal chorus. The same goes for “We Are Restless:” shouting the name of the song a few times works when playing live, but it does them no favors in a studio setting, lacking in energy and inspiration and undercutting the decent riffs and solos. The band also kicks me directly in the pet peeve by making the center of the album a duo of love songs, and the only thing worse than a metal love song is an 80s metal love song¹. They, too, lack the drive that make the opener and closer memorable, replacing it with soppiness and sappiness.

It would be selling the band short to call Breaking the Rock a complete failure, though. Existance are competent enough and the guitars can even be commended. When in search of a harmless throwback album you can do worse than this. It’s just too much paint-by-numbers, including any and all bad ideas from the era they seek to emulate, to be anything special. As a consequence, you won’t get more than a handful of spins out of this before craving one of their prominent inspirations in its stead. So if you’ll excuse me, I think I hear Painkiller calling me.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Black Viper Records
Websites: existanceband.com | facebook.com/existanceband
Releases Worldwide: October 15th, 2016

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The phrase “Spain is different!” seems to roll off the tongue of many a Spaniard. And rightly so; as a country its culture, cuisine and even the architecture, are markedly recognizable in flavor, style, look and feel. So how does that relate to Unbegotten‘s debut release Proem of the Unborn? Have these mutinous Spaniards turned against their Spanish roots? Or have they perhaps added a little Flamenco or maybe some Latin pizzazz to their black metal offering? The answer is yes and no. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want every album to be distinctly country specific. Blurring the lines and mixing influences and genres is interesting in and of itself. But when you set up my expectations by referencing that Proem of the Unborn contains raw black metal as known well by followers in Portugal and Spain that leaves me expectant. The only thing left to say is: son, I am disappoint.

After a brief intro reminiscent of Shining‘s “Reflecting in Solitude” off I: Within Deep Dark Chambers, Proem of the Unborn gets going with “Into the Entrails of my Deliverance.” The track itself takes from the ebb and flow of mid-period Burzum, demonstrates the rawness of early Shining and mixes it up with the rumble of Bethlehem. Unbegotten have very little by way of information available online and that makes it pretty tough to figure out who’s who in the zoo. At any rate, the nameless ghoul on vocal duty grunts like Kvarforth combined with the trademarks of Varg. This would be a pretty sweet combination, except that his vocals lack the necessary oomph to make any lasting impression. They snap and snarl away ineffectively, barely rising above a murmur. They ultimately do no more damage other than to bring to mind a more cantankerous version of that crazy old guy who drunkenly stumbles out the back of the ramshackle neighborhood pub, making himself at home among trash cans, the tendrils of long forgotten pot plants and abandoned coolers. If you mistakenly wander out in search of a breath of fresh air, he’s muttering to you incoherently about the trials and tribulations of swimming pool installations, leftover packaging concerns and other madness’s too bizarre to even fully comprehend [This is an oddly specific description… – AMG].

I could quite literally copy and paste the above paragraph twice or thrice more, throw in a different song title, and you’d still get the just of what to expect from Proem of the Unborn. The tracks that follow (“Porphyric Curse,” “…Of Gardens and Evokations” and “Dreadful Lethargy of the Unstable”) are all largely similar in style, arrangement and delivery to “Into the Entrails of my Deliverance.” Tempo changes and stabs at creativity can be counted on one hand. Early in “Porphyric Curse” there’s a brief shift as the band slows down to a doom-paced crawl, bombarding you repeatedly with slow deliberate percussion and humming, focused guitars. Or “…Of Gardens and Evokations” where for a few moments it sounds as though Unbegotten have abandoned their train of thought. The instrumentation loses its cohesion and it seems as though the band-members chime in, whenever and with whatever tickles their fancy. And lastly there’s the sad melody that dogs “Dreadful Lethargy of the Unstable” subtly prompting me back towards other band favorites that do gutted so much better.

For an album that’s punting the kind of sound created by pioneers of the black metal scene back in the early ’80s, Unbegotten do a reasonably good job of capturing a DIY element into their sound – their guitars sound murky, their drums jangly and the bass is altogether non-existent. That said, there’s still some instrumental loudness that holds this album back from feeling truly authentic.

I’ve been a harsh critic of Proem of the Unborn. Harsh song transitions, tracks that tend towards over-long and a lack of anything exciting to really get engrossed in does that to you. After spending a considerable amount of time on Unbegotten and Proem for the Unborn, I must concede that their 5-track (22-minute) debut is a listenable album, that ends up a non-essential listen.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Forever Plagued Records
Websites: TOO KVLT FOR YOU
Releases Worldwide: August 26th, 2015

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Written By: Eldritch Elitist

Listening to Oniric Delusions this past week got me thinking about vanilla ice cream. It’s a dessert that’s not so much widely loved as universally accepted as a reliable standby to other, more complex dishes. Proper application of toppings however can transform this most mundane of treats into something special and unique. When I learned that Banisher hails from Poland and markets themselves as extreme death metal, I couldn’t help but raise my expectations at least a little. For me, Poland is inextricably bound to its excellent death metal bands, and the prospect of a Vader-grindcore melding or a technical take on Behemoth had me intrigued. Taking into account that longtime guitarist Hubert Więcek was recently deemed talented enough to join the ranks of the legendary Decapitated on bass, I was left wondering: could Banisher be Poland’s next great death metal sundae? Or is the “extreme” death metal they promise really code for “double-vanilla?”

As it turns out, the answer isn’t quite so cut-and-dry, as Banisher introduces a few interesting ingredients to the genre formula yet ultimately fails to craft a unique recipe. What’s immediately apparent is that Oniric Delusions isn’t so much “extreme” death metal as it is technical; the entirety of the fret-board is explored in each song, and the whole thing is stuffed to the gills with intricate drum fills. Banisher’s greatest strength, however, lies not in their technical prowess but rather in their songwriting abilities, which is especially gratifying in a genre that too often prizes raw brutality and showy musicianship above thoughtful construction. Each song builds towards a logical conclusion by constructing a playbook of riffs that are modified throughout, and the record as a whole feels as though it was assembled with a purpose, with song variety increasing towards the end to create an album with a unique flow.

Solid construction aside, Oniric Delusions is ultimately damaged by just how “okay” everything sounds when it could so clearly be quite good, even great. There are some sprinkles of brutal and melodic death metal here, but not nearly enough to place Banisher within the same realm as Severed Savior or Arsis. It feels like the level of technicality on display is the bare minimum a death metal band could exhibit and still get away with being classified as tech-death; there are tempo and time signature switch-ups, but none of them are particularly surprising and not once was I blown away by the complexity of the riffs. No aspect of Oniric Delusions comes across as being particularly boring, but nothing here makes Banisher stand out from the glut of modern tech death acts.

The modern production is slick yet inoffensive; Szczepan Inglot’s aggressive vocals and Jacek Gut’s drumming are prioritized in the mix and they pack a punch, yet the guitar tone is bland (especially in the higher registers) and the bass is buried to undetectable depths. Still the level of clarity highlights the way that Więcek and Gut work in precise tandem, with the former’s staccato style complementing the latter’s relentless blast beats (complemented by tasteful implementation of cowbell.) Album opener “Axes to Fall” showcases this dynamic, with varied drum patterns and riffs that simultaneously crush and groove to make for some of the album’s most intriguing (though not terribly exciting) moments. The other major highlight is closing track “The Fatal Parable of a Certain Mercenary,” which throws a last-minute curveball by incorporating slower tempos and blackened melodies into the band’s repertoire. It’s a shame this track comes at the expense of Banisher’s most technical and brutal elements.

In the end, Oniric Delusions was a frustrating experience for me. It’s an enjoyable listen overall and the songs are all rock-solid in their construction (there are only seven of them, making for a breezy half-hour of decent death metal), but at the same time there’s just nothing here to grant Banisher a unique identity. If glimmers of the band’s genre-weaving capabilities and the members’ sheer precision is any indication, the band may be on the cusp of of something truly unique within the style. As it stands, Oniric Delusions is a decent diversion from genre mainstays, likely to satisfy diehard death metal junkies while ultimately falling under the radar of anyone in search of something a bit more fulfilling.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 160 kbps mp3
Label: Deformeathing Records
Websites: banisher.pl | banisher.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/banisherofficial
Releases Worldwide: September 3rd, 2016

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I’ve never quite got my head around open-plan office space and those waist-height cubicles. Yes, your hive of corporate activity looks wonderful photographed from seven different angles; prominently displayed on your enterprises website. Oh and let’s not forget about the collaboration! But what’s the cost? Stress-induced irritability, hostility towards creativity and productivity, anxiety and ongoing health issues. Oh wait, collaboration just flew out the window… Where am I going with this? Music. More specifically, metal. Pain have proved themselves inconsistent over the years and as with most things in life, with the good comes the bad. Dancing with the Dead hit hard and fast – fist pumping chugs, rousing melodies, lively symphonics and inciting lyrics you can’t budge with a crowbar. Psalms of Extinction and Cynic Paradise belly-flopped, leaving my playlist almost as quickly as they were added, but You Only Live Twice aggressively became my guilty metal pleasure; the lyrics resonate and the harsher vocal styles electrify.  Might “The Great Pretender” have been a clue as to Pain‘s mindset with lines like “It’s a real fine line between being good and being bad.” “Might as well crash and burn because we’re never ever gonna learn.” However the dice fall on Coming Home, I’m fired up!

From the onset of Coming Home, it’s clear that Pain are still peddling their familiar mix of heavy metal, industrial and techno. “Designed to Piss You Off” begins with an unexpected country rock vibe before quickly heading into done before techno-metal territory. Though a little on the long side, the track slams you with striking tempo changes and the right melody, aggressiveness and parasitic catchiness. “Call Me” makes a decent enough entrance, chugging along with Crematory styled flare before introducing Fleshgod-type symphonics that, while maintaining richness, fall short in density.

Though probably being top-notch stripper metal, “Call Me” is where Coming Home‘s other obvious faults start making themselves apparent. “Call Me” suffers greatly in the lyric and vocal delivery departments. While lines like “Call me! Like a genie in the bottle, I’ll rub you the right way” might sound cutesy delivered by a pouting Katy Perry, when they’re delivered by Peter Tägtgren (Hypocrisy) they just sound downright sleazy. A guest appearance by Joakim Brodén (Sabaton) exacerbates the situation, hindering the track more than helping it. “Pain In The Ass” takes this a step further. After a short intro mimicking “The Great Pretender” (You Only Live Twice), the song heads down the catchy path of “Dirty Woman.” While this worked for Pain in the past, the new track is ruined by the crude and tacky nature of its lyrics. What Monster Magnet get away with in “She Digs That Hole” (Cobras and Fire), Pain bungle.

Overall the flow of Coming Home seems disjointed and as the album progresses my interest wanes. You’re amped for a song or two then Pain brings you down, breaking the momentum. Songs like “A Wannabe,” “Black Knight Satellite” and “Absinthe Phoenix Rising” are run-of-the-mill offerings with overly simplistic/generic lyrics, serving little purpose other than what seems to be delivery on their record label commitment. Other tracks like “Coming Home” closely resemble the somber memory of “My Misery” (Dancing with the Dead) without the heavy engagement that drives the song home. Lyrically and musically the title track feels intensely personal, like that of a journey of self discovery. Thoughts of too much time on the road, a guy getting on in years and the knowledge that it takes physical hunger to truly create art become apparent¹. By the end of “Coming Home,” it’s obvious that the song is overly long and intrusive and even misplaced on the album. Had this been the last track, it may have done a lot to improve the back-end of Coming Home.

Much like Crematory‘s techno-metal fusion, Pain‘s “Final Crusade” offers an aggressive intro, triumphant attitude, nifty djenty interludes and a chorus that sticks like Gorilla Glue. This combined with opener, “Designed To Piss You Off” at least means we get a couple of keepers. Coming Home isn’t the album I was hoping for. For now, I’m sticking  with Dancing with the Dead and You Only Live Twice. You should too.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 277 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: painworldwide.com | facebook.com/officialpain
Releases Worldwide: September 6th, 2016

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Written By: Zephyrus 

Any connoisseur of fine metal music will jump at the opportunity to list off the bands that got them into the genre. Some will cite Death and Metallica, while others might cry Europe without shame. For me, one of those bands was most definitely Tool. Now, I was but a wee metal tyke when I first listened to Tool – 10,000 Days was fresh off the press and after being introduced to it for the first time, I quickly caught up with their discography and then eagerly began the wait for the next release.

Yep. It’s been about 3,800 days since Tool pressed any fresh material, so I’m guessing we’re almost halfway to something new? Well, a trio of go-getter fans from Colorado up and said “fuck that” taking matters into their own hands. They formed a band called Source, wrote a bunch of Tool-y material and now they’re set to make their debut with Return to Nothing.

As Return to Nothing begins to spin, Source’s inspirations become obvious almost immediately. Tool dominates, and opening track “Forgiveness” has everything you might expect, from the heady philosophical themes to the syncopated, tribal drumming. Singer/guitarist Ben Gleason even sounds like Maynard and his fret-work emulates that of Adam Jones’ at more than a few points over the course of the record. Now, writing Source off as a simple rip-off band would be quite a mistake indeed, because Return to Nothing is actually a decent album. The band has the playing chops and the creativity to do more than just emulate, and their song writing skills are quickly made apparent as they weave back and forth between styles. Opethian death metal sections are common. Trippy experimental guitar solos and crisp jazzy, interludes invoke Leprous and Intronaut. In fact, the whole album plays out like a platter of Tool served with a side of Opeth, smothered in extra progressive sauce. Yum.

Source does a good job of mixing their influences and keeping things fresh, but Return to Nothing doesn’t know when to stop. Boasting 70 minutes of music, it would seem the band is really striving to make good on that lack of new Tool material (and that’s excluding the eight minute bonus track). While most of it is enjoyable, the record simply cannot command such a run time. Giving my full attention to the album from beginning to end was nigh impossible. Lengthy instrumental sections and choruses repeated one time too many mean quite a few of the tracks could have been cut down by a minute or two and the experience would have been made better. While you could spin the front and back halves in separate listening sessions and enjoy both, there’s once again something to be said for self-editing.

Thankfully, other complaints are sparse. The whole band does an excellent job with their respective roles, which is made even more noticeable by the record’s mixing job. Georges Octobous is deft on the kit and his tribal drumming is made prominent by a nice boost to the low end. This also helps bring Dan Crisafulli’s mastery of the bass guitar to front stage, a wise decision considering his playing is responsible for some of the most enjoyable moments on the record, with “The Essence” and “The Serpent” both shining because of him. One detail that should be discussed is Ben’s vocals. While his cleans fit the music well, they lack emotion and his harsh vocals are much too soft and timid to capture the Akerfeldt-style death metal growls he’s going for.

Overall, Return to Nothing is a promising debut from a band that knows what they like and aren’t afraid to borrow from the best. Source has a bright future in the progressive metal scene, and if Ben can grow into his vocals and the band can keep their writing concise they could very well knock it out of the park with the next one. Just pray we don’t have to wait a full decade to find out.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Pavement Entertainment
Websites: listentosource.com | facebook.com/listentosource
Releases Worldwide: September 23rd, 2016

The post Source – Return to Nothing Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Written By: Zephyrus

Concerning geography, I’m the first to admit my complete and total cluelessness. I’m the guy that, until recently, thought the Philippines were off the coast of Central America. My knowledge of European countries is directly linked to the number of metal bands they have produced. When it comes to Brazil, I’m aware of exactly three things; their Olympics were a gongshow, they lost 7-1 and they love their power metal. That’s right, Almah is back with E.V.O, another offering of trademark Brazilian power. Helmed by ex-Angra singer Eduardo Falaschi, these cats are veterans to the scene and with E.V.O marking their 5th studio album, the band has become an entity of its own. It would seem Falaschi is riding high on that fact too because E.V.O is one of the most joyous, cheerful metal releases of the year. But does that make it good?

E.V.O begins the way any self-respecting power metal album should – with bombastic amounts of energy and a complete disregard for self-restraint. After briefly instilling us with a sense of tranquility, opener “Age of Aquarius” bursts forth in earnest. Double kicks and speedy riffs are rained down upon the unsuspecting listener as Falachi’s voice threatens to pierce the heavens themselves. In fact, one of the most immediately differences between E.V.O and Almah’s previous works is Falachi’s pitch, which he keeps quite a bit higher this time around. The opening track is easily my favorite of the album, and reminds us why Almah has found such success in the power metal scene. “Age of Aquarius” fails in but one regard, and it’s an unfortunate transgression indeed – it sets expectations for the rest of the record way too high.

As E.V.O continues to spin, it becomes apparent that this is not your average Almah album. Gone is the moody heaviness that dominated previous efforts Motion or Unfold. From “Speranza” onwards the music is unabashedly upbeat, vehemently vomiting forth sunshine and rainbows at every opportunity. This positivity is not a problem in and of itself, but many of the melodies used to express it sound derivative and simplistic. “The Brotherhood” is too cheesy for its own good, reminding me of a Christian rock song more than a power metal ballad. The chorus to “Infatuated” is so generically poppy it physically upsets me with every listen. The riffage on “Innocence” treads dangerously close to nu-metal-land, a dark and desolate place I escaped long ago.

None of the material I’m griping about is inherently bad (with the notable exception of “Infatuated”), it’s just that a lot of it isn’t all that compelling either. After the complexity and creativity displayed in the opener, many of the cuts feel tepid. The average song length is a concise four minutes. This further lends itself to the poppy, sing-along-metal mentality that permeates the record. Many bands have pulled off this style while still writing enjoyable material (see Mastadon’s The Hunter) but with E.V.O Almah haven’t nailed that sweet spot between infectiously catchy and intellectually stimulating. After such a strong start the disappointment hits deep.

It’s a damn shame too, because E.V.O contains so many splashes of excellence. Songs like “Pleased to Meet You” demonstrate a forward thinking creativity, evoking Protest the Hero while the band experiments with their usual sound. Even on the weaker cuts Marcel Barbosa’s fret-work is top notch, his solos often reminding me of Michael Romeo’s from Symphony X. The album is produced to a tee, sporting a dynamic and modern mix that captures all the energy of the music. These traits make E.V.O all the more frustrating a listen, as there’s so much being done right here that it feels like Almah squandered the record’s potential.

We metal fans are often considered a gloomy bunch. When a release like E.V.O comes around and blatantly beats us about the head with messages of golden-age living and poppy, uplifting positivity, we take pause. It’s not that we’re allergic to happiness, it’s just that we want our music to engage us in the way other genres do not. E.V.O fails in that regard, while succeeding in so many others. It’s a baffling experience of a record that demonstrates Almah’s veteran skills while also frustrating me to no end. It’s worthy of a listen if only to see whether or not you agree, but there’s undoubtedly worth in this music. It’s simply too inconsistent to give a higher recommendation. Who would have thought such happy music could put me in a bad mood?

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Test Your Metal Records
Websites: almah.com.br | facebook.com/official.almah
Releases Worldwide: September 23rd, 2016

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Written By: Eldritch Elitist

2016 has been a banner year for black metal of all styles. If the world ceased to exist overnight in some unforeseeable apocalyptic event, I feel I could stare out over the burning horizon in my last moments and think “yes… this year has served well as black metal’s last.” All the same, I became absolutely giddy when I managed to snag Cryfemal‘s ludicrously titled D6s6nt6rro as it hurtled into the depths of the AMG Rookie Pit. A one-man Spanish black metal project from a guy who calls himself Ebola, (yeah, really) Cryfemal has existed since 1996 and has an impressive number of releases under its belt. I’m not familiar with the band’s work pre-D6s6nti6rro, but learning that the project was just resurrected after a five year hiatus (sans drum machine for the first time) and that it’s unapologetically and hilariously loyal to the genre’s satanic roots had me ready for one hell of a throwback.

Given Cryfemal’s productive history, it’s alarming that D6s6nti6rro’s is so debut-like, with Ebola never venturing from the path laid by his influences. His sound is decidedly steeped in the genre’s second wave, with simple tremolo lines providing the backbone for each track a la classic Darkthrone alongside basic drum patterns and blastbeats. Ebola’s vocal delivery isn’t mind blowing, but his drunken barks are convincing enough. The guitar melodies are about as bare-bones as can be for the genre, but the surprising use of choir synths (ripped straight from Emperor‘s In the Nightside Eclipse) complement the guitars well to create a grim atmosphere that feels authentic and somewhat unique.

Yet the discerning black metal connoisseur cannot subsist on atmosphere alone. While I have some positive remarks for D6s6nti6rro, each positive point bears at least one caveat. I like the jangly, unsettling guitar tone, but it begins to grate long before the album’s conclusion because the simplistic riffs almost never stray away from higher octave ranges. Most tracks employ a tempo change and an acoustic interlude in an effort to add variety, yet these tricks are utilized ad nauseum until the opposite effect is achieved. What ultimately kills this record though is a lack of variety, which becomes so frustrating that I’ve resorted to raw statistics to express my grievances. I broke out a calculator and a metronome and figured out that for 41 percent of its runtime, D6s6nti6rro plods along at 83 beats per minute with riffs that are structurally and tonally identical to each other. This means 16 out of 39 minutes of this album are basically indistinguishable, making most of the experience a mind-numbingly boring one.

Despite the dullness, Cryfemal is able to muster one enjoyable composition in “Requiem Eterno”, a maelstrom of blastbeats and dense, unsettling riffs that sports D6s6nti3rro’s most unique melodies. Aside from that number there are a handful of moments throughout which momentarily pique my interest, but as each track contains a max of three riffs the mundanity is never fully alleviated.

I’d like to think that if D6s6nti6rro were merely monotonous I’d be more lenient with it, but a glaring production issue compounds its problems. For the most part the instruments are mixed appropriately with clarity standard for modern black metal, and a surprising amount of room is left open for the bass to breathe. But then there’s that damned guitar. The lack of octave variation in the riffs is a problem that’s only aggravated by the guitar’s unbearably high placement in the mix. It’s not so loud that it obscures the other instruments, but by the album’s end the pervasively elevated tone made my ears ring to the point where I always had to meditate in silence for a few moments to recover.

If the best bits were carved out of D6s6nti6rro and made into a sub-20 minute EP, it might have made for a pretty decent throwback to second wave black metal, as none of the individual tracks are bad on their own. Yet the utter lack of variety in riff composition, tempo, and song structure makes for an utterly dull record that’s made a downright annoying one by the troublesome guitar tone that refuses to stray from the upper registers. It’s sad really, because I would love to see more fantastic homages to the genre’s Norwegian forefathers that can stand toe to toe with the scene’s current innovators. There are certainly bands that fill this void already, and alas, Cryfemal is no Spanish Inquisition.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Osmose Productions
Websites: facebook.com/cryfemal666
Release Dates: EU: 2016.09.30 | NA: 10.07.2016

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It’s been said by some that Moldova sucks, but when it comes to metal, Latvia does not! Hailing from Latvia’s capital city (Riga), Eschatos have been constructing their brand of avant-garde/progressive black metal since 2012. Their fledgling release (Hierophanies) caught my attention with its eye-catching album art, but that’s not where it ended. Much like the lone Piranha jumping out at you from the packaging, the album hit with fervor, all sharp teeth and powerful jaws. Consisting of only five tracks and totaling a little over 31 minutes, the bite-sized debut proved an engaging beast, comparable in style to mid-period Darkthrone or Vreid, with well thought out stylistic shifts, attention to catchiness and skillful vocal application by front-woman Kristiāna Kārkliņa. Some time has passed and I’d all but given up in hearing from Eschatos again. Seems I was wrong – they’re back with vengeance on The Grand Noir.

On first impression of the album, it’s clear that Eschatos have been consistent in offering us only their best – six tracks that play out in under 42 minutes and leave you wanting more. Once again written, arranged and produced by Eschatos, mixing undertaken by Guntis Podvigs and Eschatos at Eschatos Studio and mastering by Hodila Records, The Grand Noir has a crisp and clear delivery that plays to the bands strengths. Instrumental opener, “The Grand Noir Rising,” leverages minimalism, featuring an almost Tool-like atmosphere. The track seems typical on first listen, but with repeat plays, nuances shine through adding to the edginess.

Enraged and brimming with Darkthrone styled bluster, “In Whole Alone is Good and Elsewhere Nowhere” bears the burning cross of a terrible title, but striking tempo changes and the introduction of Kristiāna’s snarl laced with a Carach Angren narrative will lock in the listener. Just like that, the stage is set for “The First, The Last and The Living,” “On The Divine Names” and “Feast of a Thousand Beasts.” Each works to maintain the Darkthrone-y vibe of “In Whole Alone” while also showcasing that Eschatos are not yet out of tricks or treats. Following a militant opener reminiscent of Marduk, “The First, the Last and the Living” offers skillful bass riffing that snaps and pops re-iterating the strength of the production choices made by Eschatos. My only gripe, is that despite some interesting guitar lines, melodic one moment and idiosyncratic the next, there’s a slight lack of intensity that niggles away, probably because I’m thinking about what could have been were a gent like Mortuus (Marduk) leading this horde.

“Feast of a Thousand Beasts” tumbles in with all the aplomb and eccentricity of a group of jesters on parade. Irregularly timed notes contribute to otherworldly melodies and recurring chants, giving the track a mischievous life of its own. The Grand Noir progresses towards an odd but beautiful ending hinting at a blend of progressive death merchants In Mourning and depressive black metal sad boys Eudaimony, Eschatos switch over to an almost Agalloch-like black metal vocal style to deliver “Sterile Nails and Thunderbowels.” Abrasion wears through the sludgy fuzzed out rhythm guitar-work, and this along with black ‘n roll frenzy and disconcerting sound effects, loads the back-end of the album with some highly enjoyable gloom.

When compared to its predecessor, The Grand Noir comes across as more mature and the slightly more seasoned. If I were to table a complaint, I could say that “The Grand Noir Rising” and “The First, The Last and The Living” could lose a few moments off the back end, but I’d be nitpicking. The Grand Noir is a respectable album with an inviting production style that’s best enjoyed as a whole. Just think of it as Iced Tea at a lemonade stand.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Starwolf Records
Websites: facebook.com/eschatos.band
Releases Worldwide: October 7th, 2016

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There are some albums that scream out for a review… Opeth‘s Sorceress was certainly in no danger of being overlooked. We toyed with you a little, made you wait, but it was on the cards you’d get a review – eventually. The Black Scorpio Underground‘s Necrochasm will never be one of those “sought-after” albums. In fact, it’s tough to even mention these two bands in the same review, purely because they’re complete opposites. Where Opeth builds texture from beautiful progressions, The Black Scorpio Underground grinds away using only industrial noise and shock tactics. Let’s just say, this is not for the faint of heart! Best I can surmise, The Black Scorpion Underground operate out of Long Beach, Southern California, and they got their start in 2009 with their debut, Attica. The three years following, saw the band polluting the inter-webs with a series of EP’s, full releases and splits. A brief hiatus followed, with their next big release rocking up 2015, an almighty split with the mysterious and unnamed entity only known as T.O.M.B. With little to no other introduction to The Black Scorpio Underground it’s time to get this show on the road.

During a lecture on experimental music, John Milton Cage Jr. described music as “a purposeless play” one which is “an affirmation of life – not an attempt to bring order out of chaos nor to suggest improvements in creation, but simply a way of waking up to the very life we’re living.” A fine way to introduce Necrochasm. “Garden of Mutilated Saints” introduces quickly, going from nothing to something like a disk grinder eroding metal, grating, sharp and full of sparks. To the unappreciative the track will just seem displeasing, tearing away at your ear drum. That’s not the case – for the duration of the track there are subtle fluctuations in intensity, new layers and textures manipulated, broken up by uncomfortable silences. By way of comparison, this and the tracks that follow, have some similarity to bands like Lustmord (Stalker (with Robert Rich) and Purifying Fire) and T.O.M.B.

It’s important to understand that Necrochasm is an album that needs to play out in its entirety for the full effect to be realized. “Mortuum” (previously of Black Crypt Worship) and “Slave” are perfect continuations of the opener. Beginning with stark minimalism, both tracks introduce well-timed jolts, consisting of cold cacophony, out of place melody, bestial roars and siren-like screams. The overriding calmness executed within the tracks making the harsh sections stand out that much more violently. Both tracks induce discomfort musically and physically – it’s a necessary evil though, without it they would not come to quite the excruciating and bitter end they come to. “She Who Cannot be Saved” and “Venereal Liturgy” (previously part of Black Crypt Worship) are more removed from their predecessors. Both progressions follow a more ambient path, “She Who Cannot be Saved” opening with a Nightsatan-like hum and “Venereal Liturgy” going the mechanical route. By using a minimalist approach, peppering the track with only subtle electrical crackles and pops, you’re hypnotized by thoughts of pointlessness and despondency.

“Hall of 1000 Degradations” follows the path of “Mortuum” and “Slave.” For maximum shock-factor, a demonic voice takes front and center stage. The delivery is stinging, has a deception about it, leaving an acerbic taste behind. With the harmonics becoming crueler, the back-end of the track is dominated by child-like monologue, the delivery so animated that it’s perplexing, a growing sense of perversion getting well under your skin by this point. The song peters out with a rock-styled beat and an easy listening edge that completely contradicts what you’ve experienced to now. Nechrochasm comes to a close with “Whore ov the Black Sun,” an atmospheric piece in the same vein as predecessor “She Who Cannot be Saved.” It’s a decent offering that continues to shift and grow in intensity and distortion, though with a more subtle approach. It’s also the first time that I’m left feeling that the band have extended something beyond its usefulness.

I can’t say that Necrochasm is a pleasant or comfortable listen, and I can’t in good faith say that this is an album that I’ll return to on a daily basis. It’s an album that I’ve enjoyed immensely and there’s very little about it that I would like changed. Necrochasm is the kind of album that transports you into, and shows you, the ugly side of life. It’s a beast that comes at you full force, tearing itself open, pouring its guts onto the table for you to revel in and then, when its spirits broken, it retreats to lick its wounds.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Husk Records | Prison Tatt Records
Websites: theblackscorpiounderground.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/theblackscorpiounderground
Releases Worldwide: October 28th, 2016

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Written By: Eldritch Elitist

Anyone who’s made this blog a regular haunt knows there are several “don’ts” many of us consider when we review albums: don’t bloat your album length, don’t brickwall the damn thing in production, and so on. Far be it from me as a probationary scribe to suggest a new entry for our Tome ov Rules, but after listening to sophomore effort, Eidolon, from Canadian doomers’ Zaum, I’ve settled on a new guideline for my personal rulebook: when writing a full-length album, don’t put all of your stock in only two massive songs. Yes, this is a strategy that has been successfully implemented by some of Zaum’s biggest influences (namely Om), but Eidolon proves it to be a damning one when utilized improperly.

Let’s start with the good stuff, namely the first half of Eidolon, “Influence of the Magi.” The four-minute buildup to the meat of this track is atmospheric and compelling, with layered, throaty chants underscored by glimmers of feedback and ethereal flutes (of doom!) When the main riff abruptly kicks in, Zaum reveals its core sound as a sort of medium between Yob and Om, nearly as heavy as the former while sporting the stoner rock elements and bass-only approach of the latter. Though bookended by excessive ambient passages that total seven minutes (out of twenty overall), “Influence of the Magi” is a fairly fluid piece that retains the atmosphere of its intro while creating a sense of ebb and flow through fluctuating tempos. It all culminates in a surprisingly sludgy climax at 14:30, and while the experience isn’t exactly thrilling, Eidolon’s first half left me mostly satisfied.

Before getting into Eidolon’s second half I’d like to discuss the nearly unavoidable pitfalls of constructing a record out of two monolithic tracks. Like films or novels, the best music albums tend to have some sort of arc to them; a successful introduction effectively establishes an album’s sound to the listener, while the conclusion ties the elements explored throughout the album together into a satisfying coda. This arc is difficult to convey when there is essentially only an intro and outro track present. Furthermore, if only one of those songs is good, the resulting product is half of a good album regardless of the other half’s quality. This is where Zaum stumbles, as the second track, “The Enlightenment,” is not as good as the first. The atmosphere isn’t as convincing, the tempo is stagnant, and the total number of riffs has shrunk. These problems are exacerbated by song structure and length that’s identical to that of “Influence of the Magi,” making it sound like a diluted re-tread. As a twenty-minute conclusion to an album that was only halfway over when it began, “The Enlightenment” fails, and in fact feels far less important than the preceding track.

In regards to performances and production, pretty much everything is “just okay.” There are some memorable riffs that stuck with me after a couple of listens, but I’ll probably forget those soon after this review is published. Kyle McDonald proves himself to be a surprisingly diverse vocalist – his roars at the climax of “Influence at the Magi” take on an edge reminiscent of High on Fire’s Matt Pike – though for much of Eidolon he delivers lethargic chants that sound like an attempt at emulating late-career Garrison Keillor. The bass tone is appropriately warm and heavy, but it’s layered with so much distortion that it’s a wonder why Zaum didn’t just opt for a guitarist in their roster. Christopher Lewis’s drumming is precise yet plodding, acting as little more than a metronome to keep Eidolon glued together. As for production, this album is well-mixed, yet mastered so loud that it only manages a DR6 despite the bloated ambient sections.

As a complete package Eidolon is half a good record, but even the half that I enjoyed possesses problems that are endemic to the album as a whole. The other half isn’t bad, but it’s so one-note that it left me completely apathetic after each listen. Zaum’s heavily atmospheric approach to doom metal has potential if they can trim back the ambient sections and focus their energies on dynamic songwriting, but if they insist on placing all their eggs in two baskets I’m not sure they’ll find success with their formula. Check out the first track, but skip the second; all of Zaum’s best ideas are piled into the former, and half of a good record simply isn’t worth a full purchase.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: I Hate Records
Websites: zaum.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/zaumn
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2016

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I’m a sucker for HansFyrste’s ghastly vocal style, he could probably read from the phone directory and I’d be very okay with it. The bug in my ear took effect around Ragnarok‘s Malediction and it only got worse when I discovered Svarttjern‘s Misanthropic Path of Madness and later release Ultimatum Necrophilia. Thankfully it’s a solid 2-years beyond the release of Ultimatum, which means we get another shot of Svarttjern, decked out in all their bullet belt and corpse paint finery. I’ve had my ear to the ground and there’s not too much being said about Dødsskrik other than that it trails their tour with Behemoth, Cradle of Filth, Inquisition and the now defunct In Solitude, and that Svarttjern plan on “wreaking havoc” once again, with their new record. That leaves me with a burning question – will Svarttjern continue the aggressive direction of Ultimatum Necrophilia or will Dødsskrik see Svarttjern incorporating the elements of their tour-mates, steering them in a new direction?

The show gets on the road with the aptly titled opener… “Intro.” It’s barely a song, and instead more an uncomfortable mix of cloying industrial noise that feels like a living, breathing organism switching from side to side while looming over a battle beat. This could easily have served as the opener to Carpathian Forest‘s Strange Old Brew or on Nattefrost‘s Blood and Vomit. “All Hail” follows on, and you’ll quickly realize how much Dødsskrik is starting to feel like a throwback to something  from Carpathian Forest‘s Defending the Throne of Evil. HansFyrste’s vocals are a mix of croaked clean singing, corpse-like screams, cocky exhibitionism and wretches that hint at a lung more outside than in. His chorus consists of “All hail Satan” repeated a bunch of times, nothing particularly inventive there folks, but it’s ear-wormy none-the-less. Fjellnord’s guitar rhythms are mid-paced and so overly repetitive they can’t help but weld themselves permanently to your memory. Grimmdun’s drum-work doesn’t feel overly complex, mostly coming across as competently mechanical, getting the job done. Svarttjern aren’t doing anything that bands like Carpathian Forest, Taake and Darkthrone haven’t done before.

“Admiring Death” again feels like a hybrid of past offerings by Taake et al, and as you progress, you’re struck by how much more engaging the guitar work feels on this track. The percussive nature of the riff perfectly melds to the drumming, and it’s at this point that the album starts to feel more exciting. “Blessed Flesh” and “Det River I Meg” both stand out as the strongest tracks on the front half of the album. After an aggressive start, “Blessed Flesh” displays a dainty melody, tiptoeing with Taake-like stealth in the background nicely contrasting the main blackened riff. Musically, vocally and lyrically the track reaches one of Dødsskrik‘s harshest climaxes before finishing with the kind of black ‘n roll back-sass I’d expect from a band like Vreid. “Det River I Meg” is the half-way point and the biggest surprise of all. On the off chance you’ve had Dark Angel‘s “The Promise of Agony” on your mind, this little river should flow with some familiarity.

The back end of the album passes in a blur, again reminding me of past offerings by Taake and Darkthrone. The last half is dominated by “Dødsskrik” and “Acid Dreams” – They’re the gifts that just keep on giving! The opening bass riff of “Dødsskrik” sounds razor sharp and when combined with the grossly puked vocal intro, the track develops into the kind of nasty shit that makes your skin crawl and you can’t help but feel slightly unclean just for listening. It’s aggressively likable though and even the frivolously delivered black ‘n roll mid-section does nothing to take away from the hostility. Less vocal theatrics, more straight-forward accent-drenched singing, drum-work that’s simple but all encompassing, thick and heavy in delivery, bass-work that adds depth and a perfect length make the track a winner. “Acid Dreams” bring it all to a close. Built around a subtle but very Behemoth-like melody, the track takes on a intensely bizarre life of its own before winding up with truly mutilated vocals.

Dødsskrik is a competent offering with some very definite high points and a production quality that plays right into the hands of the music. Warm enough for a light fuzzy hiss, sharp enough that vocals and instrumentation (including the bass lines) sound engaging, full and undemanding on the ear. Based on the direction of Ultimatum Necrophilia, I guess I hoped for a bigger, badder and nastier release from Svarttjern. It feels like Dødsskrik plays it a little too safe at times, leaning on too many generic sounds between the few distinct high points of the album. That said, if you enjoyed any of the bands mentioned above, The 3rd Attempt‘s recent Born in Thorns or you just enjoy HansFyrste’s outrageous vocal contributions, you’ll be mostly pleased with what Dødsskrik has to offer.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Soulseller Records
Websites: facebook.com/svarttjern
Releases Worldwide: April 29th, 2016

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