Honorable Mentions:

Unearth “The Oncoming Storm”
Enslaved “Isa”
The Chasm “The Spell of Retribution”
Borknagar “Epic”
Dismember “Where Iron Crosses Grow”

EP

Misery Index “Dissent”

***

Well, another year in the proverbial bag and quite a varied year it was, with this year’s top 10 being a solid cross section of all genres from the rending black metal of Leviathan to The Dillinger Escapes Plan’s adventurous musings.

Notable omissions? One could argue that former US death legends Morbid Angel, Cannibal Corpse, Suffocation and Deicide have officially lost their clout as they all released albums in 2004 and none of them even got a sniff of the top 10. What about European death metal stalwarts Entombed and Dismember? Both released comeback albums of sorts and only Dismember garnered any sort of surprisingly lukewarm recognition. Are metal fans now bored with classic death metal, preferring the heightened polish and variety of acts like Disillusion and Into Eternity? Where were usual former Digitalmetal [Teeth of the Divine!] favorites Finntroll and Behemoth? Behemoth may have suffered from the same fate as Enslaved’s ISA, having a dual release date that spanned both US and European markets.

What about surprises? How about the retro thrash turnaround of Susperia that seemed to please fans? Or Aussie newcomers The Amenta and their blistering debut? Or how about metalcore’s poster children Unearth hovering around the top ten with their long awaited sophomore album?

Of course perennial favorites Mastodon, Pig Destroyer and The Dillinger Escape Plan made their predictable appearance, but who would have thought that the one man German progeny Muhammed Suicmez and his band Necrophagist would have swept the year end honors as they have for many publications? Epitaph’s uber technical ferocity seem to enamored many of you as it beat second place band Disillusion by a healthy margin. But can Necrophaghist follow Epitaph up, or will they fade like many former death metal greats?

We will just have to wait until 2005 concludes to find out. Thanks to those who voted, keep Digitalmetal.com [teethofthedivine.com, dammit] your number source for online extremity, and have a great metal year.

Indeed. I’m a young fellow. When Hirax rocked the thrash grounds, I was still getting high on milk and learning about morals and ethics from Optimus Prime. By the time I got interested in heavy metal, Hirax had already disbanded and acts like Sepultura, Anthrax and Suicidal Tendencies had played within a 20 minute walk of my house without me giving two shits about it. Damn you, childhood! Damn you to hell!

Luckily, the saying “better late than never” is true as I’m quite pleased with fixing at least some of the errors of my youth. You live and you learn. When I first listened to Thew New Age of Terror I brushed it away. Don’t know why, don’t know how but it all sounded like a bunch of wind chimes to me. Guess I was having the male version of PMS. Lucky for me, I decided to give the band another shot and after the first couple of songs I had already been knocked out twice. I don’t know what happened to the CD during the time away from the player, but the whole thing just felt completely different. Guess the time wasn’t right the first time around.

Simply, Hirax equals pure Bay Area thrash metal: pounding, fast, dirty. And after repeated listens, I must say The New Age of Terror blows both Exodus and Death Angel away. The band delivers a great ass kicking while singer Katon W. DePena shrieks words of war, death and destruction. Just the topics you expect to hear from bands like these. Sure, with an album title like that, you could interpret some of the songs as modern age critique, but that’s how it’s been with thrash metal always. Whether one goes down that “politically aware” road or not, the fact remains that DePena and the band gets to shout out cool words like “destruction” in unison. And that’s all that matters as there’s plenty of moshing and headbanging to be done while waking your neighbors with tormented screams. In between the thrashing, we’re also treated with a nice instrumental track that gives you a couple of minutes to breath and rest while your hunger for the last two tracks rises. It’s almost like being in a concert, knowing that the end of the show is near but that there’s at least a couple of more tour de forces to come.

Hirax has also been able to avoid a couple of the pitfalls that plague certain releases today. The production, while being clear, isn’t clinical. You get to hear all the instruments but the image of green hospital walls is nowhere to be found. Excellent. Also, the album’s structure is almost perfect. It knows when to stop. 11 cuts in 37 minutes, not 11 cuts in 58 minutes. Not once does the album drag; it keeps its integrity to the end.

What more is there to say? The New Age of Terror is an extremely pleasing album with plenty of old school vibe. Why try and fit the music to “modern age” boundaries, when there wasn’t anything wrong with in the first place? Due to my inexperience, I can’t compare this with the band’s previous efforts, but for those Testament fans out there, check this one out. You won’t be disappointed while you wait for a new cut from Chuck & Co. Rock on, Hirax!

The nine blistering tracks all contain ferocious blast beats and the usual pace shifts into a more menacing lurch. Far more complex than country mates Vader and not quite as technical as say Necrophagist, but having the same roundabout approach to the song structures, Trauma’s riffs swirl and slice with the best of them, but never become daunting or exhaustive, instead remaining brutally cerebral. From the blazing opener “Blade Under Your Throat” until suffocating closer “Outrage of Fools,” the album never truly falters, covering all the facets of death metal that make it enjoyable; short virulent stabs (“The Hidden Seed,” the stunning “Perplexity of Truths”), in depth, challenging offerings (“Outrage of Fools,” “Beyond the Perception”) and of course, the requisite lumbering number in the form of the brilliantly scathing “Make Me Blind,” which isn’t content to ride the slower dirge like riff for its entirety but instead turns back on itself with biting aggression.

As you can tell from the song titles, Trauma aren’t your usual blood ‘n’ gore outfit, with their lyrics and themes matching their bruising musical intellectuality, that comes across like Death dipped in a more offensive form of extremity. Rounded out by a firm and familiar home town production, the end package is about as perfect as death metal gets considering its inherent lack of new ideas.

Highly, highly recommended.

Self Inflicted Hell is 36 minutes of American thrash metal. Distinctively American thrash metal, so no real surprises there. The album starts out somewhat slow – with faster mosh parts evenly thrown into the songs while singer and guitarist Samuel Landry shouts his way through the riffing like the Tom Araya. Unfortunately – even if I used the word “riffing” – deep down it’s quite basic and I was secretly hoping for something much more adventurous. You know, those fist-fuck-guitar-orgies where the use of two guitarists really start to shine like the sleeveless Golden Gym T-shirt on a mullet wearing virtuoso (with a capital V). Of course, since most bands who roam on similar grounds don’t have such guitar dueling either, I guess it’s unfair to complain. Especially when at times on this Horfixion output, there’s at least some parts with more interesting twists and turns.

I must say, I wasn’t too keen on the album after the first half. The album starts out rather normally with faster tempo but just when they should be increasing the fury, the tempo and the delivery of the punches – they take out the fire extinguisher and put out the flame that just a moment ago seemed to be ready to expand and explode. Argh! It’s almost like banging seven chicks at the same time only to wake up and realize that it was a dream and your life still sucks. But just about when the half has passed, it seems like they remembered what they were doing and pick up the pace and start delivering the safe, but always nice, thrash metal that they were supposed to deliver from the very beginning.

Part of the grime I’ve got with Self Inflicted Hell is the production. It just lacks that force which has made weak songs on other albums worth of at least a couple of nods. For example the album’s best track (no question about it), Thoughtless, would have been a grand anthem of rage for me if it wasn’t for the lifeless production. It’s a shame as it really would have shook the shit out of my neighbors if only given the treatment the song deserves. Last but not least, Rendez-vous avec la Mort, is – as the name suggests – a song sung in French. I’m tempted to quote S.O.D’s legendaric album (something about speaking something), but since the song is rather nice and puts a deserving end to this album of mixed emotions and feelings, I guess I’ll let it slide away this time… no – I must say it. In this particular case, the delicate language of French just doesn’t work. But that’s okay, since in all honesty the ending part is almost perfect: starting out with a short acoustic part and then transforming into a pure mosh fest. Where was this stuff 30 minutes ago?

All in all, I wouldn’t lose my sleep over Self Inflicted Hell as it promises more than it’s able to deliver. Hopefully I won’t have to copy and paste this review when the next album comes out.

Until now. Enter Sotajumala (Finnish for “Wargod”), a Finnish death metal war machine that takes the best elements of Morbid Angel, Bolt Thrower and classic Stockholm death metal and grinds them under the tracks of a down tuned tank. With the fury of a T-72’s smoke spewing, rumbling engine, Sotajumala’s native tongue filled, death metal lashing is a stout example of death metal that mixes classic stylings and pacing with a modern ferocity and fervor. With the smoky battlefield hue of Bolt Thrower, the swirling technical precision of Morbid Angel and a virtual Sunlight production, Sotajumala’s sound is hardly original, and bands like Insision and Anata spring to mind as viable comparisons that do death metal justice without tampering with the formula.

The formula is indeed simple; fierce blast beats, gruff ravenous vocals, and ample time changes that both shred with buzzing tenacity and lurch with militaristic menace. Nothing that has not been done before, but Sotajumala does it rather convincingly. After the obligatory nameless intro, “Meidän Maa” (“Our Country”), blazes the album’s opening trail , with rapid fire, tracer laced blasting, and while “Elämän Vihollinen” (“The Enemy of Life”) initially follows suite, its latter moments burst with a lumbering heave that’s as good as any of Bolt Thrower’s warmongering marches. The Bolt Thrower-ish themes of modern combat are continued for the likes of “Panssarikolonna” (“Armor Column”) “Vanki” (“Prisoner”), “Pommitus” (“Bombardment”), not just lyrically, but also in their pummeling, often controlled delivery as heard on the monstrous gait of “Kuolleet” (“The Dead”). The pacing of the album is perfect as it never lulls into either faceless blasting or Jungle Rot-like redundancy; take the jarring shift from the aforementioned “Kuolleet” to the blisteringly short sharp assault of “Rakkaudesta Sotaan” (“For the Love of War”).

The dervish blast beats reek of Morbid Angel with a certain ethereal, layered sound, especially when delivering a solo as heard on “Sisu Sinivalkoinen” (“The Strength of Blue and White”) or a sudden shift into a grinding segment like the title track displays. The Morbid Angel influence is no more apparent than on the stunning and aptly titled album closer “Pommitus”, a five minute display of shock and awe which closes Death Metal Finland with a mammoth, sludge filled sprawl of “Hatework” or “Where the Slime Live” proportions, complete with esoteric, echoing solo work and artillery-ish bass kick ins.

Death Metal Finland is a damned fine album, and a welcome break from the normally frivolous nature of metal Finland usually delivers.

So two years later, the band still continues in the path which they stepped on with the previous album, but it seems that they’ve finally gotten around polishing the songs from everything that shouldn’t be there. Things seem well thought out and while there’s plenty of stuff going on every second, nothing seems to be in the wrong place. The main problem I had with Everblack was the length of it all. While the 50 plus minutes is quite standard for such releases, some of the songs just couldn’t carry the whole (average) 5-6 minutes allocated to them, despite the nice blend of melodic and aggressive elements. It just became slightly repetitive after a while. However, this is not the case with 11 Dreams, which is almost odd as the songs are even longer by a couple of minutes, as the total time goes a little over an hour. This clearly proves the point that the band has been able to learn from the past and inject the songs more life, more space to breathe, thus making it all roll on more fluently. The songs are also better organized in proportion to one another, so you get the hards and softs in the proper order; never thinking “when is this going to end?”. Production wise, this is grade A material. Crystal clear, yet heavy and with an edge; I would expect nothing less.

The vocals have improved quite a bit from the last time as they’ve been balanced more to work better with the different styles. While there’s more clean singing from Mikkel Sandager’s behalf, bass player Henrik Kral Andersen’s part with the growls and screams hasn’t lost any of its relevance. The vocal harmonies are extremely satisfying and executed without any contradicting style-errors. There’s variety, there’s emotion and there are moments where singing along is more than encouraged. A good example of the diversity is the song “Sharpen the Edges” which’s acoustic passages could be from Nevermore’s repertoire – both musically and vocally (just can’t seem to avoid comparing the two, even though they don’t exactly battle against each other), while the choruses feature the band singing a choir and the end gives some time for Kral to shout his lines in more rawer fashion.

Needless to say, the rest of the crew also impresses the heck out of me. Mike Park on drums uses the whole arsenal, rather than just settling down with hitting basic beats. Maturity shows from the adequate fills and pleasantly rich cymbal. And I’m sure the double bass fanatics get their money’s worth as well. Morten Sandager’s keyboards work as a backbone for the music, but luckily there is none of the needless wankery to be heard. Instead of forcing himself to the spotlight when unwanted, he helps to add depth to the songs from the background, tastefully adding depth and substance to the soundscape. As for Jakob Molbjerg’s and Martin Buss’ guitar work… there isn’t much to criticize either. Whether it’s the soaring solos, rhythmic thrashings or melodic dueling – it just works like a brand new bullet train on a sunny day. The vigorous team work can be witnessed through out the album, but I’ve come to adore the first three tracks: “Into The Sea of Dark Desires” (which works as an intro), “World Hate Center” and “11 Dreams”. Especially the title track, which delivers a good example of the magic happenings. From a catchy chorus, it goes to a nicely paced guitar solo, after which the guitars give room for Sandager to hit some beautiful notes on his piano. One becomes so involved with the music that you just let yourself go and allow all the different parts transform into a seamless entity.

The only major complaint I’ve got with this album, is the eighth track, “Music Non Stop”, which is a cover version of Kent’s song (of the same name.) Now, I wouldn’t be so hard with it if it had been at the end, but it breaks the momentum that has, up until that point, been quite flawless. It’s completely carved from another piece of wood. Sure, the lyrics are a direct continuation to the overall theme of the album, but why not make the music continue the legacy as well, rather than make it look like a commercial break? Nevermore did this successfully with Paul Simon & Garfunkel’s “Sound of Silence” on Dead Heart in a Dead World album: why take the easy way out by just adding some distortion, rather than actually play around with it and forge out something that sounds like you? Meh.

11 Dreams meets and goes beyond the expectations I set for the band after 2002’s Everblack. It’s hard to predict what the follow up will be like, and perhaps I don’t even want to know if it fails to reach the ridiculously high goals I’ve now set for it in my head. But even if everything fails in the future, at least the band has produced an album to which one can fall back to and admire its greatness similar to the perverted monolith seen in Kubrick’s Space Odyssey 2001… without further unnecessary rhetorics: metal at its finest – worth everyone’s attention. Get it!

Italy is well known for mixing perverted ideas together and expressing the results musically. Usually such releases are worthy of filling the garbage bin, but exceptions are known to happen. Thee Maldoror Kollective is one of such occasions with their latest album where things could have gone horribly wrong, but luckily didn’t.

You get sauce from Ulver, the meat from a bunch of old school industrial and ambient bands and a bag of oregano from the guys of Aborym. As an added bonus, you might want to buy a bag of Through Silver in Blood-sugar from 7-Eleven-Neurosis . Mix it together and cook appropriately and you might wound up getting a tasty snack of futuristic audiovisuals of mind consuming atmosphere called A Clockwork Highway. It’s quite a lot less minimalistic and less humane than Ulver’s modern new messiah, Perdition City but equally (although quite differently) thought provoking; cold, bleak and disturbed. Where Perdition City took us into the depths of living room electronics and crowds walking on rainy streets, A Clockwork Highway builds images of clinical Orwellian architecture, where the harmony of the white walls is scarred with blood trails and mystic spray paintings; hints of self-destruction or perhaps of mind’s own personal rebellion?

Thee Maldoror Kollective is vocal, but doesn’t feature a vocalists in the traditional sense. It’s not new for bands to use clips from movies and other audio enabled products, but TMK does it in a way where it doesn’t feel out of place. While you know they’re from different sources, you somehow automatically put aside the clear “hey, that’s from that and that”-thoughts; an automated self-defence process that allows TMK to show you another possibilities and concepts. There are also original vocal works, mainly in the form of distant screaming and display of agony. The samples knitted to the white skin, paint somewhat of a schizophrenic atmosphere.

Musically, it’s mainly machines and beats but the mechanical spine is also embodied with low-tune guitars and tribalistic drumming – much in the fashion of 1996’s Neurosis. Some of the sounds used in the creation of the ‘music’ bring even more movie connections to mind, like the adapted blips on the album’s weakest track, “The Hills have Eyes”, instantly injected my brain with Blade Runner’s Voight-Kampf tests and the noise of the imaging machine, used to observe the photographs – the memories. While the music on the album is mainly constructed so that it doesn’t necessarily have clear shapes and angles, it’s diverse enough not to become boring as the locations and soundscapes alter between each song. In fact – the 57 minutes seemed quite short. Almost too short; the songs could have at places dragged more without it causing any damage to the flow. But perhaps the decision not to take a part and plug a Duracell Bunny’s soul into it makes the complete work more intriguing. For a while, on the last track (“Babilonia Cafe”) TMK breaks from the controlled institutional environment and takes it to an East Indian direction and to more defined transonic stimuli. The rhythm speeds up before finally breaking into a catharsis. In a way – the end is in direct connection with the beginning, as it releases the slowly built stressful anticipation of the first track (“Dopecity”).

It’s been a while since I was last greeted with a release that worked as a proxy between me and the depths of my imagination. Of course, some of the albums released this year have been able to touch limited portions of my working brain cells (not a result to undermine) – and some of the albums have allowed me to dig into that imaginary unit even more efficiently (Magyar Posse’s Kings of Time comes to mind) – Thee Maldoror Kollective’s A Clockwork Highway simply flooded my mind with all sorts of pictures, thoughts and feelings to the point where I think I’ve finally gotten the last – most complex – piece of the puzzle out to the open to play with.

Simply: A must.

The entire album, with its 7 lengthy, in depth tracks is a tour de force of blackened, regal majesty all veneered with a guitar tone to die for, although far from ‘true’ or ‘kult’ black metal. Even when treading less explosive tempo’s such as the pummeling gait of ‘The Sacrament” and “Sister September”, the sheer grandiosity of the material is only heightened, and again due to the production, veers very heavily into Scandinavian death metal with synths. There isn’t a weak of filler moment on the album, and I haven’t heard an album this epic yet scathing since Arthemesia’s Devs-Iratvs a few years ago. Granted, the drums are slightly drowned out by the overbearing guitars and essentially merely dictate the pace of the song, but the allure of the warlike synths and blazing guitars is the essence of this album, not the percussion.

Redemption Process is the bane of pure black metal; its well produced, laced with synths and has more than a nod to scene targets Dimmu Borgir and Cradle if Filth, but when all is said and done, it fucking smokes and is one of the better black metal albums I’ve heard this year.

Only inching into technical death metal due to Willowtip’s publicity nudging, Alarum is actually far more of a progressive thrash metal act, with only brief outbursts of spastic technicality (‘Inertial Grind’, ‘Event Duality’) littering the otherwise lucid and often ethereal antics of the majority of the material. The progressive sheen is obviously a intricately played form of free form jazz fused, bass picking material, that rather than shuddering and jarring with attempted frenzied brutality, flows with a cerebral certainty and often cosmic, peaceful technicality. While most ‘tech’ metal tries to batter you in to submission with atonal overload, Alarum actually have then rare mix of technical, numbing brilliance and, memorable, catchy structures. Within the flow of the typically busy pacing, are actual riffs, structures and definable moments, Alarum just play them with an intellectual, complex flare indeed worthy of Cynic references.

The varied vocals of Mark Palfreyman range from a lightened Kelly Schaeffer-esque rasp, a disembodied echo, a typical toneless thrash shout, and a clean cosmic croon, which may put off death metal purists, but actually fits the cerebral music rather than attempt to force it awkwardly into a death metal pigeonhole. The album is smattered with brief instrumental interludes that seem to slide in perfectly amid the full songs and also give the members a chance to showcase their skills in a more individual light; ‘Lost Pleiad’, ‘Cygnus X-1′, ‘Boundless Intent: Part 1′ and ‘Audio Synthesis’ are well placed ambient breathers from the challenging dexterous material Alarum deliver. Opener ‘Velocity’ pretty much sums up Alarum’s intoxicating mix of dizzying complexity and haunting, spatial melodies. It’s short, succinct and chock full of time changes and blistering percussion. In fact, Alarum never seem to wander into drawn out tech meandering, as all of the songs on Eventuality range from one to four minutes, and impressively, each carries its own character.

Admittedly, I do not posses neither the musical knowledge nor the prose to adequately describe each brain numbing song, but needless to say every moment on Eventuality is a pristine exercise in balance; from the dreamlike atmospherics of ‘Remote Viewing’ to the incredible sonic convolutions of ‘Subject to Change’, the album commands continual attention in order to absorb its many intricacies, but unlike say Necrophagist-it’s never exhaustive. The ebb and flow of the songs are perfectly balanced to both astonish with skill and convey coherent, enjoyable songs; a mix that is rarely perfected.

Obviously, the musicianship is top notch as drummer Matt Racovalis’s Neil Peart admiration is a standout, but both guitarists Mark Evans and Scott Young divulge plenty of their own influences from Schuldiner to Petrucci with finger cramping accuracy. But great musicianship is often lost on overindulgent song writing (Watchtower’) as a showcase for individual talent. Not so with Alarum, as they all come together to form one nebulous ball of brilliance that displays their skill within the confines of great songs. If Theory In Practice were more placid-they would sound like Alarum. A must have for technical aficionados and a nice ‘highbrow’ addition to Willowtip’s normally vehement roster.

A crucial aspect of Pursuit of the Sun… is the interplay of almost serenely downbeat strummed/finger-picked acoustic/clean parts with powerfully fierce black metal passages. Gold’s transitions are fluid as he drops voices and instruments in and out of the mix, utilizing texture to enhance the natural dynamics of his music, sneaking the heaviness in behind the veil of his morose melodies and rich vocal laments. The black metal portions are surprisingly no-nonsense, not exactly the troo-est or grim-est you’ll hear this year, but enhanced by the melodramatic pace of the tunes and the constant presence of clean guitar moving from background to foreground, these Immortal-inspired epic thrash-outs more than do the job done in terms of providing the heavy backdrop for the brooding melancholy that defines the mood of this record.

If you are thinking Agalloch at this point you are close, but no cigar. If anything Woods of Ypres bears closer resemblance to an Agalloch-related project, Sculptured, with the exception of “Summers Envy” a song much more in the vein of recent Katatonia and Amorphis, complete with a brain-adhesive melodic hook that will hook you, guaranteed.

Conceptually, Pursuit of the Sun… seems to narrate in the first-person the adventures of a brooding metallic youth making an earnest attempt at being a shiny and happy person, yet in the end, failing utterly and learning a lesson from it (hope I didn’t ruin it). I feel the music accomplishes more in terms of supporting the concept then the lyrics, as through the dark shade of gloom casts its pale over the whole record, it somehow still comes off radiant and energetic due the aforementioned of well-placed dynamics and acoustic textures. While the lyrics are well-written and honestly performed, the repetition of the theme could have used a little more diversity in expression. Constant invoking or the same basic concept in every song does give the album a unified feel, but can also lead to some monotony, leaving me wanting just a little more improvisation on the theme. That said, I can make this criticism here, because unlike 90% of metal bands and albums out there these days, there is a solid effort to make the lyrics interesting and relevant, as opposed to the after-thought cliches that seemed to have infect every genre of metal song-writing.

Being that the above complaint is my only non-major criticism I could muster, I feel confident saying that this band and album is essential for any one who appreciates the more melancholic and brooding side of metal: fans of Agalloch will appreciate the dense textures while Opeth fans will find themselves drawn to the excellent quiet-to-heavy dynamics and vocal diversity Woods of Ypres brings to the table. Despite these influences, Woods of Ypres maintains its own singular identity and despite the album’s length, the songs remain consistently powerful, occasionally throwing in little surprises (find the mosh part!!!). It is also very encouraging and refreshing to find North American folk-influenced metal bands actually drawing from their own side of the world’s rich history instead of appropriating European traditions. All in all, a deeply satisfying piece of dynamic and intriguing dark metal art sure to assist listeners in their own pursuit of the sun during these black winter days. Pick this up.

Centered around droning, mid paced crushing waves of weight and the occasional atmospheric flight of ambient fancy, Zatokrev’s 5 lengthy songs, while not on par quite on par with their Stateside peers or fellow European Isis fans, Cult of Luna, are still pretty solid in their homage. The guitars are slightly less battering, and the ambient moments aren’t quiet as lucid, but the overall recipe is still rather tasteful. The vocals of guitarist Frederyk Rotter is the only weak spot that jumps out at me, as there are high pitched and fairly strained, and only highlighted by the music’s powerful sound. As is the template for this style, Zatokrev’s repetition of undulating low end riffs is stymieing, claustrophobic and only relents for a brief clean vocal break or ambient intermission. Otherwise, the suitably oppressive builds are all cut from the very same pulsing, maritime mold as Oceanic, but get to the point quicker with three of the five songs around the 5 minute mark with the native tongue sang “Zato Krev” (10 minutes) and “Fourem” (14 minutes) being more strenuous sonic bouts.

While the album’s first three solid cuts (“Reveal”, “C Through”, “Alive”) all deliver compounding moments of heaviness and ebbing throes of power, the FX and clean vocal laced climax of the gargantuan “Fourem” renders a stark yet hypnotically crushing, contrasting Mindrot-like dirge of emotional, cathartic and physically draining music, though the last four minutes of FX is needless. Rotter’s tone (apart from the hymnal clean singing) takes a more menacing tone for the stifling end track. Not to take away from the rumbling opener “Reveal”, the hypnotic “C Through”, or the thunderous “Alive”, but “Fourem” comes across as one of the most effective deliveries of this style of music I’ve heard in some time. The self produced mix is solid, with all the appropriate textures and with a suitable depth for the genre that stands up to all the obvious peers.

Apparently good Swiss music is like Haley’s comet and only appears one or twice in a lifetime, and we already had Celtic Frost this millenia-we might be seeing history here. Pretty impressive.

With four lengthy, filthy, down tuned, buzzing hymns of lumbering war anthems, Ramesses’ take on a sort of Southern Lord doom-ish metal is as barren and stark as the post WWI fields of Belgium and with former members of Electric Wizard and Spirmyard, Ramesses’ sound is familiar yet still jarringly claustrophobic. The trio of Mark Anthony Greening, Tim Bagshaw and Adam Richardson make no qualms of using some obvious stoner/doom influences (High On Fire, Buried at Sea), but instead of making their sound fuzzy and hazy with a pot driven, grin inducing atmosphere, they chose to make their fuzzed out grooves nasty, dirty and enigmatically abrasive.

Recorded and mixed in 24 hours, the four expansive tracks are bereft of any sonic window dressing whatsoever, and ooze with a primal rawness that’s refreshing in today’s overproduced metal market. The lurching nature of the music, while rooted in Sababthian doom, has a bitter edge aided by Adam Richardson’s muted, gravelly and effect free bellow that takes a back seat to the music, acting as another piece of the overall wall of sound. His only departure from his harsh approach is the brief, coarse singing that surfaces during “Black Domina”. The feedback drenched guitars and pulsing bass complete the effect, but never seem to be the welcoming warmth of most Stateside stoner doom. The opening rumble of “Witchampton” is a sloth like barrage that sets the tone for the records 30 minute duration, no interludes or intros. The continually rolling, cement mixer delivery is forthright and simplistically primal without being gratingly raw or teeth grinding as the bass levels are kept suitably up front in the mix making for a rattling and thunderous yet crude tone.

The simplicity of the riffs isn’t a monotone drone as per much of this style, but more of a feral grimness that’s laced with a few time changes to keep your interest and prevent snoozing. Only the repetitive vocal nature of “Master Your Demons” delivers a more familiar stoned out pacing (despite its slightly forced but short blastbeat), as “Ramesses II” and “Black Domina” are vast undulating throes and ebbs of caustic sludge.

Ramesses are a solid entry into the normally US led genre and they add some acerbic bite to an otherwise hazy style that seems to drift somewhat. Of you enjoyed the Carnage of Lair of the Minotaur, this is highly recommended.

That’s not the case for Austria’s Enid. The brain child of one Martin Wiese sees the criminally underrated bands’ third album, takes steps above and beyond their already progressive discography. Steering in a slightly different direction from their past folk/fantasy laced efforts Seelenspiegel, Abschiedsreigen and Nachtgedanken, Enid rank with fellow Austrian’s Hollenthon as far as adventurous musical undertakings. Throw in the vocal operatics of Empyrium, the classical overtones of Haggard and the off beat, genre bending Arcturus and you might come close to Enid’s complex, beautiful and captivating sound.

Gradwanderer is one of the few albums I’ve reviewed that pretty much left me both awestruck by its brilliance and dumbfounded as to how to describe it. While label mates Rakoth forced their experimental nature upon fantasy trappings, Enid’s sound has a very slight folk undertone, lessened somewhat from prior efforts but still in place by virtue of hypnotic Gregorian chanting, grandiose horns and overblown classical instrumentation befitting Wagner. Each of the 9 songs on Gradwanderer are epic soundscapes of varying character, never settling into a single style or mode of delivery, some numbingly good, while others are a little to quirky for their own good.

Garm himself would be proud of album opener “Chimera”, with its continually shifting pace and over the top vocals delivery. Not content with the subtle morose nature of that tune, the almost rock roll vibe that starts “Ode to the Forlorn”, belts out a curve ball, with Wiese pulling some amazing vocals that are vastly improved from the bizarre opener. However, the track shifts seamlessly to and from tribal soundscapes and Prog rock with jaw dropping transitions. The piano and vocal only ballad “The Silent Stage” is perfectly executed without dripping with cheese. Enid’s black metal/fantasy roots surface with superb time changes during the brilliant title track, that opens with Summoning like glory and folk blast beats worthy of Suidakra, and that’s in the first few bars before the songs drifts into dreamlike acoustics and more horn laced grandiosity.

Now I have a short attention span folks but the 15 minute “Die Seelensteine” held my attention undividedly, for its mesmerizing acoustics and piano laced, dance beat entirety. If you can get past the harsh German lyrical delivery, the song is as relaxing as Enigma or Enya: something I know a lot of you metal heads listen to, but are afraid to divulge. Admittedly, after the stunning operatics choirs and soundtrack like scale of “Exemption”, the album takes a mighty step backwards from brilliance, but it brings up the genius vs. madness argument, as the blues/Jazz/50’s rock mannerisms of “The Burning of the Sea” are nauseatingly bad, but a bold move nonetheless. The song has some good moments past the dreadful “be-bop” vocals and “Since ma baby left me”, riff patterns, but otherwise simply falls flat as Enid take a huge misstep over the fine line between experimental and just plain ridiculous. But then again the same was first said of the circus like atmospherics Arcturus flaunted on La Masquerade Infernale.

Bonus track “Herbsturm”, is a simple rocker tacked on the end of the album as filler, and honestly the album ends on 2 sour notes after the often breathtaking brilliance of the first 7 tracks. Still, that should not stop this album from appealing the adventurous listener willing to put up with some German lyrics (all delivered with clean vocals), and a vast array of styles with a complete disregard for genre-riffic limitations. Enthralling and captivating, this album is why I do this.

Right of the bat, the Colin Richardson (Carcass, Gorefest) production is immediately notable as CoF suddenly have far more pure metal girth as opposed to black metal’s usual Abyssic sound, the overall feel is far more of a classic heavy metal sound that’s enhanced by CoF simplified songwriting and obvious desire to cull NWOBHM into their gothic tinged overtures. Arguably the post Cruelty and the Beast let down of Midian and the fan shunning, major label foray of Damnation and a Day (although a solid album) left the Cradle slightly in the shadow of the Dimmu Borgir’s lauded but familiar sounding Death Cult Armageddon and while both bands last efforts flirted with full orchestras, CoF have smartly let the metal do the talking and their orchestration resort to mood enhancing atmospherics. Rather than try to outdo (gimmick) Dimmu by introducing a larger orchestra to flesh out their sound, CoF have instead upped the ante by falling back to their country’s earthy metal origins and laced it with their own brand of sexual imagery and PVC clad musical eroticism.

Anyway, that’s enough rambling, I’ll cut to the chase, Nymphetamine is the best CoF album since Dusk and her Embrace. There, I said it. Although still intent on black metal contrivances like haunting album intro (“Satyriasis”) and operatic interludes (“Painting Flowers White Never Suited My Palette”) CoF have delivered some of their best, most pure metal musings since Dusk… Maligned midget Dani Filth is surprisingly restrained often slinking into a Martin Walkyier-esque rasp, rather than his teeth gnashing screech and the synths of Martin Foul are far more ambient and unobtrusive than any other album. More importantly, the music itself seems to have somewhat shunned the usual black metal paradigms, and now treads a thrashier, earthier tone that while obviously still retains the dark grandiosity of black metal’s sadistic pomp, tries to actually break free of its restrictive boundaries. The result is a less clichéd and grittier, yet still hedonistically sensual form of dark musical art. Despite the album weakest track, “Gilded Cunt” kicking off affairs on an eye rolling note, the album is consistently strong in both form and function.

After the lackluster “Gilded Cunt”, CoF deliver what is arguably the best contingent trio of songs on any of their albums: the controlled, marching menace of “Nemesis”, the sensual tone of “Gabrielle” and the grim ostentation of “Absinthe With Faust” all show refined song writing without reliance on cheesy antics or forced histrionics. Absinthe With Faust’s opening piano notes being possibly the most succinct yet hypnotic synth passage they’ve written in a long time. I’m tempted to say there is some filler on Nymphetamine just to not be such a fan boy but being honestly objective, other than the previously mentioned interlude, the album is unerringly good from beginning to end, and unlike Damnation and Day it doesn’t feel overdrawn or too lengthy and self involved. Granted the “overdose” version of the title track, at nearly ten minutes is skippable when compared to its half length version (the version the video accompanies), but when graced be the angelic Liv Kristine (Leaves Eyes, Theatre of Tragedy), it’s worth wading through its needless first three minutes.

Long time harpy Sara Jezebel Diva still provides much of the vocal ambience, but Liv’s sultry tone steals the show. I could logically name “Medusa and Hemlock” as a slight letdown as a singular track, but is still manages to retain the albums high standard, even if not the best cut. At times “Coffin Fodder” has the rapturous urgency of “Beneath the Howling Stars”, but smartly breaks it up with synthless segues of crunchy old school thrash. “English Fire” provides this album’s “Malice Through the Looking Glass”, and with its surprisingly patriotic theme and controlled pace, sees Dani once again incur early Sabbat (UK)-like comparisons. If you were to hear the opening riff of “Filthy Little Secret” without knowing the artist, you’d be hard pressed to guess CoF as the player as it rocks with a pretty Old School British Steel vibe that’s almost bereft of black metal’s dramatic aesthetic.

As if to signify a return to glories past, Doug Bradley (Pinhead of Hellraiser fame) makes a welcome return for arguably the albums (and maybe the bands?) best track “Swansong For a Raven” and its glorious piano drenched opening gallop. “Mother of Abominations” ends the album (not including the shortened, bonus version of the title track) much like “Haunted Shores” sealed Dusk…; with an explosive climax rather than a contrived instrumental outro.

Nymphetamine isn’t going to end the ‘CoF are gay’ debates, as it’s still rife with Gothic, leather clad dressings, adolescently sexual artwork, and Dani’s lyrical petulance (which I happen to think are some of the best lyrics around), and it won’t convert those that are convinced that they are black metal sellouts. However, it is, regardless of their image and reputation, a damn good metal album, that it would be shame to miss based on ones preconceptions of their somewhat false ‘superstar’ status and label affiliation. Quit bitchin’ on the internet, just get the fucking thing and actually listen to it before jumping to conclusions.

Hailing from Connecticut and with one album, In the Eyes of the Lord under their belt courtesy of Goodlife Recordings, 100 Demons should not surprise with their style; angry, chugging, metallic hardcore. Hardly original, but done well enough to be in your collection if you are a fan of the style. The steely thrash tinged edge to their hardcore musings often reminded me of early Pro-Pain or Shadows Fall, controlled yet seething with under the skin rage and their veins bulging in their neck in self restraint ready to explode.

Not nearly as harsh as some of the genres harder acts (Built Upon Frustration, Premonitions of War), and with just a slight hint of melody, 100 Demons sound is finely crafted to appeal to all metal ilk, so long as they are pissed off. Of course, as with most fits of rage, it’s short lived, as the nine anthems clock in at around 3 minutes or under, that left this listener wanting more. The entire production is earthy and robust from the crunchy guitars to the Bruce LePage’s throaty roar, its all in line with anything you’ve come to expect from East Coat hardcore. However, Lepage’s vocals don’t seem to quite match the intensity of his scathing lyrics, and his few clean attempts don’t fit in with the general rage of the music (“Repeat Process”).

Guitarist Rick Brayall’s prior death metal experience is heard throughout the riffs, although prettied up with hardcore’s more commercial pacing, the general chug and soloing is rooted in early 90s death metal. My only gripe with the material its general ‘sameyness’, although a trait of the genre. I would like to have heard 100 Demons crank out a real pulse quickening stopping show stopper or complete behemoth of crushing noise. As it stands, “Dying In My Own Arms” treads Sick of it All/ Agnostic Front punk realms and potential gargantuan closer “Never Surrender Virtue” is too short lived despite its promising march. Other wise, the album treads the safe line with mid paced weightiness that lacks a real impact despite being enjoyable. “His Fathers Son” injects some promising melody and the aforementioned “Repeat Process” attempts some clean vocals, but overall the album’s deep religious theme is never quite conveyed by the standard chugga-chugga music. Not that it doesn’t make it enjoyable, the short burst of 100 Demons is perfect for that late night Taco Bell and beer run that requires some pounding, meaty tunes to get your head bobbing for a short period of time.

 I only wish the music itself fulfilled the promise of depth that the artwork and lyrical themes promises, rather than a standard hardcore fare. Well, there’s not much I can say about a 25 minute album. Short album, short review, rock on.

For these heavyweights the bar is higher and my personal Best of Marduk cd is full, mostly with pre Panzer stuff, but the closing song, “Blutrache” has forced its way on there. It is a bit of a throwback song with a slower pace and Emil competes well with the vocals. This song is nearly eight minutes and is preceded by 25 seconds of bomb bursts, which erupt full force from the previous song, “Everything Bleeds”, a nice short, chaotic, abrupt, disharmonious brush with speed and more speed. These two combine for a very powerful ending to a great album.

Only Marduk can produce an album that ranks sixth of seventh on their career list and still blow away nearly everyone else on the planet. Now I’m even more eager for a return to American soil.

This is a disc aimed at true fans of black metal, not casual metal fans that own a Burzum and a Mayhem shirt but can’t tell the two bands apart. I have heard many albums from many bands that play for the sheer pleasure of torturing listeners, and most lack any sense of structure. Bloodaxe, on the surface, is one of these bands with, aside from the intensity, the redeeming value coming in the form of some good riffs here and there and the occasional passage that screams for the rewind button. The guitar is really buried and is overly simplistic, neither of which is necessarily a problem, and the differences from song to song are very subtle. The lyrics are full of Odin, wolves and ravens, nothing unexpected but reasonably well written, and apologies are given to the Havamal.

Only two songs really impressed me enough to single out here. “Thirteen Oars of Misfortune” is musically more diverse but not monumentally so. “While You Lie Bleeding”, aside from the distracting weird vocal effect on the spoken lines, deserves mention as well but it does drag on a bit too long. The instrumental “Loki’s Fury” has easily the best drumming on the album and some memorable riffs, otherwise the album is basically interchangeable songs. I give Nordavinden Lien credit for what he has produced and look forward to his next offering. Better than most but not among the best, yet.

Overall, the 11 songs have the discernable but not overpowering back bone of East Coast death metal, but glossed with an accessible, steely thrash veneer. There’s a lot of chugging, but also lots of tempo shifts and traditional thrash structures. The only problem with the generally tight and well played material is that none of it truly stands out or cries for replay. There’s a lot of interesting and genuinely well done moments on the album that will have thrash and death metal fans banging their heads equally, but none of it is truly great or memorable. Within the eleven tracks from opener “Dead Scent” through the intimidating “Phantasia Through Agony” and right until closer “Written In Flesh,” I can’t really remember much of the album despite the fact I quite enjoyed it. I remember the stout production that embraces death metal intensity and thrash metal’s crispness and that Darrell Rapp has an impressive voice, but other than that; nothing. Which is a shame, as the album is honestly rather good – when listening to it. But in spite of its energy and clever cross genre output, it still comes across as rather imaginative and generic even if it’s glossed with an undeniable energy and attitude that separates it from the squeaky clean European counterparts.

There is some enjoyment to be had here and I’d recommend it if you see it cheap somewhere, it’s worth your time and money, just don’t expect it to change your life or reach a classic status. This is a just solid, respectable effort from an apparently tireless and veteran band that finally looks to have made something moderately worth while after 16 years of obscurity.

So how does album number 2 stack up’ Well first things first, once past the introductory ‘I Wish I could Vomit Blood on You’People’, a unsettling, wretch laden sample, and “The Oblivion Gene’ explodes from the speakers you immediately notice the cleaner, less abrasive production. Whereas The Codex Necro was a distorted, battery acid guzzling beast, this album is more clinical and razor sharp, and while the new tones certainly removes some of Anaal Nathrakh’s viciousness, it doesn’t take away from the bands blistering Mayhem on meth musical stance, as the ‘Thrakh are still utterly hell bent on delivering spitefully aggressive riffs and a near continual merciless percussive assault. A second a more surprising development is the vocal maelstrom delivered by V.I.T.R.I.O.L. and subtle injection melody as typified for possibly the album’s standout track ‘Do Not Speak’. V.I.T.R.I.O.L. utilizes many styles on this album from his usual barren screech, Emperor/King Diamond ‘esque crescendos, robotic chanting and guttural belching-it all adds up to a very disturbing and twisted vocal soundscape that makes up for the new production’s slight shortcoming. In fact, the Emperor influence can be heard far more obviously amid their Mayhem and Bathory worship, as the complexity has been upped, resulting in a sort swirling, operatic chaos not unlike a more visceral Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk without the keyboards. Now, don’t get me wrong, Anaal Nathrakh haven’t sold out or developed into a lighter act, as drummer, guitarist/drummer Irumator (AKA Mick Kenney of Mistress, Frost and Fukpig) still spits forth some utterly skin peeling riffs and machine gun drums, it’s just more pristine and decipherable.

The entire album still drips with a futuristic menace in spite of the lessened distortion, and due to V.I.T.R.I.O.L’s schizophrenic performance, seems more psychotically ‘human’ rather than the robotic soulless-ness of The Codex Necro. ‘Procreation of the Wretched’ possibly harkens back to the former album with shrill guitar FX backing the manic riffage while the robotic, militaristic gait mixed with the hypnotic chanting of ‘To Err Is Human, To Dream ‘ Futile’ imbues an Orwellian slave state ambiance. ‘The Final Destruction of Dignity (Die Letzten Tage Der Menschheit)’ is the albums most vitriolic track after an initial lull, with Kenny just decimating his drum kit with a level of continual extremity on par with The Berzerker (a band that shares common stylistic themes with Anaal Nathrakh).

Each track, while displaying varying degrees of audio hostility, continue to show Anaal Nathrakh’s insidious evolution that still keeps them atop the modern black metal heap, although frankly I wasn’t quite as taken aback as I was with The Codex Necro, but then again, to top that album for sheer venomous rage would be near impossible, and an album that contains the hypnotic vocal line and controlled groove of ‘This Cannot be the End’ certainly doesn’t compete with their debut.

Admittedly, I preferred The Codex Necro, as the quality of this still abrasive album isn’t quite as immeasurable, but it still hums with a sneering, hateful guise, and even the most ardent metal head will be intimidated by the first few ominous bars and punishing blasts of ‘Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light’. Still, Anaal Nathrakh is undoubtedly the new contorted face of black metal, and V.I.T.R.I.O.L is it’s spittle drenched mouthpiece.

On first listen the instrumental/ ambient aspects dominated a little too much for me, usually not a favorite, and I’ll give Leviathan as my benchmark for perfect black metal/ ambient mix. After a few spins I found, poor sound not impeding, that I was mesmerized somewhat into enjoying trying to follow the music. There are seven nameless tracks, nothing on the sleeve and nothing on the accompanying flyer. The flyer uses adjectives like wind swept and expressionistic and ominous, which help little is giving one an understanding of the music. I like that there are no words at all. The screaming adds intensity, but really sounds no different than many bands that use this style with actual words. These guys just realized it was the vocal style that mattered not the indecipherable words. The vocals also serve as the link that binds all the various sounds together. I am not absolutely positive, but I don’t thing there are any keyboards on this album, I think it is all done with real instruments. (I know a keyboard is real, but you get what I mean). What really impresses me the most is the ability these guys have to write chaotic unpredictable music that is tightly structured and played with no sloppiness. Much of it is predictable but often time changes appear unprovoked and different styles pop in and out, but in the end it all meshes rather seamlessly. That is the more verbose way of stating what I said above about reminding me of Negura Bunget on the emotional level.

Track three is a musical interlude that has a slow mesmerizing quality and a great bass tone, but pardon my ignorance, I do not know what instrument creates such tones. Incorporate this into other songs in the future. Track six incorporates acoustic guitar and it is very well played. The last track is an all acoustic guitar outro. Minnesota’s angel of death still has one more album to release through Moribund, I’m looking forward to Act III.

The 2004 Orange County show is the bulk of the DVD, and shows the band in their element-surrounded by fans and in an enclosed space. However, while the picture is adequate, the sound of the show is atrocious and the root of Throwdown’s sound; burly breakdowns, is rendered horridly flat throughout the entire show. So the show ends up an exercise in watching various levels of hardcore machismo from the hoodie toting crowd. For a former guitarist with no vocal experience, shouter Dave Peters is a solid front man and had watched plenty of Hatebreed shows, with enough Jasta-isms, (including the haircut) to warrant investigations.

The “Fightclub” theme of the video for “Forever” is heavy on the testosterone but fits the music perfectly and is one of the bands most crushing and message-laden songs for the straight edge masses. The Cutting Room floor material is also pretty amusing, especially when the band pretends to be Slipknot “unmasked” at a fast food joint.

Overall, a pretty solid, well produced and put together DVD that’s a no brainer purchase for fans of the band, but the live set leaves a lot to be desired, as it doesn’t fully carry Throwdown’s massive sound.

And the atmosphere is what makes this album so great. It draws you in, wraps you up tight, and takes over your mind and body for roughly an hour. The sound is amazing on the big stereo, but mixed well enough that it achieves another level of appreciation through headphones. My favorite moment occurs just over 8 minutes through the second track, “Exorcism Of The Host.” An absolutely epic guitar solo twists its way out of the darkness, making it one of those “oh yeah!” moments where you just know there isn’t anything better that you could possibly listen to right then. And while the last track goes beyond the 26 minute mark, you’d be hard pressed to notice. While some people might be usually against anything with a “doom”tag on it, they’d be doing themselves a disservice by avoiding this album. It doesn’t drag along, and is in no way boring.

It’s redundant to say that I’m happy with this record, but I am. Yob are a band that deserve the hype, and deserve a wider audience. They have joined the exclusive upper echelon of ‘heavy’ bands such as Goatsnake, Sons Of OTIS, and 5ive, in that they transcend their peers and are beyond common comparison. Yob are not a great doom metal band, nor a great metal band. They are a great band, period. Signing to Metal Blade was a great move for all involved, and metal fans are in for a treat.

The lyrics are typical low brow black metal stuff, calling up demons, rotting corpses, wrath of Lucifer, etc. “The Skies of Armaggeda” even contains the phrase burn, christian, burn. You’ve got to love that. I’m poking fun here but actually the lyrics are pretty well written. Here is an example, “Pathetic scapegoat wireless allegoric puppet, Surreal scarecrow surrounded by imaginary spectra landscape, Blazing scourge psychosomatic stigmata morbid necrosis…” As you can see vocalist Marcelo is making it pretty tough for himself, not easy phrases to scream. The pace is mixed a bit from slow to mid tempo, mostly the speed is dictated by the drumming. The guitars tend to stay slow. The sound quality is good with all instruments distinct. I’ll pick out two songs that express their style well. “The Skies of Armaggeda” has nice bass lines that they keep going back to throughout the song which ties everything together well.

The pace is good and the rhythm sticks in your head. There is the obligatory haunting vocals in a well done mellow section. Lots of cymbal work to carry the beat. The drumming is quite more than Darkthrone mimicry and there are some memorable, if derivative, guitar leads. The flip side of the band is a sloppy acoustic interlude with female backing vocals called “Hecate Chant”. Some nice ideas and good compositions make this a band to check back with in the future.

I especially like their willingness to incorporate more mellow aspects and some melody into the otherwise suitably harsh delivery.

The sound quality is clearer than last time. The vocals stand out much better, easily understood, as usual. The drums are not so tin can-ish and the guitars are higher pitched. The crunch of the rhythm guitar is not as heavy this time. Having taken a historical bend, we learn that “300,000 violated and butchered in just six weeks” in the opening song, “Sunrise Defloration” which is fast aggressive and chaotic with lots of quick screeches on the guitar. “Carbonized”, a standout track, is a little overly repetitive with the vocals, proclaiming “into the blazing krematoria” and “we applaud the wanton brutality, anti-Jewish supremacy.” The third track is actually “Indomitable fist of Decius”, the traycard has it wrong, and adds melodic guitars and distorted shrieks while preaching “contempt, hate and abomination for the benefit of this world,” and ask you to “eradicate the flock who preach the cross.” Vlad the Impaler is the topic of discussion on “Reign the Vulture” which includes a memorable guitar solo and asks you to rejoice in pain. Next is another standout song, “Adonai Made Excrement”, which asks that we “allow the Torah to be destroyed” while presenting us with lightening drum rolls, quick high pitched guitars and a slow heavy section. The highlight of “Mighty Impiety” has to be the gun and bomb sound samples and the final song, “Sunset Detonation” asks that you “proudly detonate yourself” This is musically the most distinctive song on the disc with lots of slow riffs and the heaviest drums on the album. It makes a good bookend with the opener.

I won’t even gripe that yet another black metal band has make the jump to death metal because they have done it so well. Maybe  it is the all new lineup. In any case, Reign proud mighty Impiety. Be hailed, be hailed.

There are plenty (and I mean plenty) of great smash-your-face parts laid around the album which make you pick up the baseball bats and bricks from the ground, ready to tear a new one for some innocent passerby… but as you’re about to actually commit the senseless beat down, the soundtrack to the violence shape shifts into something mellower and ‘nice’. It’s kind of like the band really doesn’t know which way they want to go with the music so they’ve just thrown in ‘best parts from the masters’ without looking too much where they’ve added the philosophically different parts (and skipped checking if they fit or not) – making the outcome quite contradicting.

One thing that this album comes near perfection in is the production done by Tue Madsen. It’s one of the most powerful ones (if not the most powerful one) I’ve heard in a long time. The wall of sound is unbelievable and you can basically see the sonic waves tearing down walls and busting people’s balls into diamonds. It really brings the best out of these able musicians. I guess the binaural recording technology really paid off; other band’s take notice.

Despite all the great talent in the band, it pains me to say that The Audio Injected Soul falls short as the songs seem to be without a determined direction. Now that the audio part has been incorporated with the mechanical exoskeleton, someone should inject it with personality and clear objectives to conquer. Perhaps then I’ll finally be on my knees begging for forgiveness.