Opener “Damnation” begins in good fashion, using a placid instrumental intro to reel listeners in.  After a minute or so things begin to heat up and the pace quickens, with fast blasting and guttural vocals taking over.  Then…wait, what?  A breakdown?  This must be a joke.  Oh, it’s not…it leads into more deathcore grunt-grunt-grunt-chugga-chugga action.  Okay.  This is the part of the review where I have to detail that it’s hard for me to take anything -core related seriously, but a fair review will still be given.

Morok is described as “atmospheric black/death metal.”  That’s semi-accurate.  It’s kind of atmospheric, and it has brief, fleeting moments of black metal influence, but for the most part, this is a death metal album.  Most times it seems the attempted black metal moments fall more in line with deathcore, especially since plenty of them end with the accursed breakdown.  To be true, there are certainly some cool moments within the tunes from Agruss‘s first album.  Some of the more atmospheric sections are effective (case in point: the beginning of “Ashes of the Future”), the level of musicianship heard is nothing to scoff at, and “Under the Snow” is a black metal-ish track that seems to truly fit with the theme of the album.  But the overall amalgam of Dying Fetus meets post-whatever just doesn’t seem to fit.

Kudos to Agruss for reaching out from Ukraine and tying horrors from their homeland into the extreme metal category.  That alone is worth a commendation.  While it’s not exactly this reviewer’s cup of tea, Morok is a solid release, though there seems to be a bit of an identity crisis going on within.  Hopefully after some time and progression, Agruss will find a true niche in which to hold on.

That’s largely because Pneuma isn’t a black metal album with psychedelia bleeding in around the edges – it’s a psychedelic album that’s gone black and rotten at its core. Every song here is a colorful kaleidoscope of heaving organs, tumbling bass and goblin-esque vocals that scrape, slither and cavort. Trippy, yes, but it might also send you scrambling for the Thorazine. Tracks like opener “Mountain of Horror” and the 12-minute epic “In the Gates of Time” are structured as heavy, psychedelic dirges, equal parts of The Doors or The Moody Blues crossed with Sigh or Solefald. These two songs mostly lope and lurch along at a mid-paced tempo, but also crank to a thrashy gallop or blackened scramble before going all prog-wackadoo. Best of all, they’re always cogent and listenable even as they morph and expand. Every minute offers some new twist or quirk, but it all rumbles along in the same direction, rather than the Frankenstein-mishmash ADD approach that defines some other avant-garde acts.

Hail Spirit Noir also has a wicked sense of humor, as you’ll hear in Pneuma’s two gauzy folk-ballads. “Let the Devil Come Inside” starts as a cooing lullaby, then quickly goes all wrong with its out-of-nowhere growled chorus, “Kill your mother, while you’re still in her womb.” The song wanders off from there into a dreamlike interlude of xylophone and strings, then dives into a nightmare of burbling bass, spidery dissonant solos and muffled blastbeats. “When All is Black” is even weirder, with soothing flutes and a sonorous clean vocal that turns the lyric “Smells like dry sores” into a haunting and lovely refrain. Then it too takes off on a gallop through psychedelic hinterlands, where time drips backwards and the flowers unfurl grey petals and the goats nestle in tight by the banks of a poison river… I can’t help but compare a song like “When All is Black” to one of the psychedelic odysseys off of Opeth’s Heritage; they both tread the same twisty path that leads back to the hazy fractal bloom of the late ’60s, but somehow this comes off as more authentic and creepy than many of that album’s tracks.

And then there’s “Against the Curse We Dream,” the album’s groovy, shambling highlight. It’s basically black metal surf-rock with horror movie keyboards, like a Scooby Doo chase sequence except the ghostly sea captain isn’t some guy in a shabby costume and phosphorescent dust – he’s a kelp-strangled corpse with water in his lungs and rape in his eyes. “Against the Curse” is the album’s most straightforward track, but it’s also super-catchy and odd and entertaining as hell.

Mixing retro ’60s/’70s psychedelia or occult rock with blacker influences isn’t radically novel these days, given similar sounds from Opeth, Sigh and Ghost. If you missed the death influence from Heritage though, you’ll definitely want to check this out, even if the rougher sections of Pneuma are still not terribly ferocious. Still, this is an awesome, authentic and weird little treasure, and well worth seeking out if you like your metal weird, melodic and memorable. Pneuma will be occupying a special place in my collection along with other delicious little oddities like Phantasmagory’s Anamorphosis of Dreams, Ved Buens Ende’s Written in Waters, Frantic Bleep’s The Sense Apparatus and Korovakill’s Waterhells.

So I’ve cracked open the coffin once more, and this time, found Poland’s Eternal Deformity. They offer a similar mix of styles as Dimmu; not quite black metal, not quite thrash or groove metal, but an even blend of all of it, with ringing, melodic guitar solos and goth-classical symphonics. Check out the opening tracks, “Thy Kingdom Gone” and “Lifeless” for good solid examples of this. Yet there’s another major element at play here, which marks Eternal Deformity’s sound as their own – a doomy, introspective and progressive tone and songwriting approach that reminds me of countrymates Riverside. It’s an intriguing mix of the pompous and the pensive, and is best represented in tracks like “Pestilence Claims No Higher Purpose” and “Caught Out Lying.”

Eternal Deformity also offers a nice contrast in their dual vocals. Przemyslaw Kajnat’s black vocals are thick and throaty, bordering on death growls at times, but his clean vocals are even more impressive. When he sings out, they’re powerful and clear like Vortex (though not on the same level), but in the album’s more melancholy moments, he affects a velvety croon. Riverside vocalist Mariusz Duda comes to mind, but I hear Vincent Cavanagh of Anathema even more (particularly from the later goth/prog albums like Judgement and A Fine Day to Exit). It’s expressive without ever becoming overwrought or tear-stained.

As I said earlier, the symphonics are just lavish enough to provide a fanciful counterpoint to the downtuned guitars, but they’re rarely overpowering. Except for track 6, “The Beauty of the Ultimate End,” which starts with a cheeseball Bal Sagoth march and then employs heaving, demon-calliope whirlwinds of synths throughout. Tips the whole thing from pomp into poofery. Shame, ‘cause the rest of the track is one of the album’s speediest and most aggressive moments. Eternal Deformity make up for that lapse in taste with follow-up “The Sun” and the epic, Oriental-inflected closer “The Holy Decay,” both of which return to the balanced mix of goth/black and progressive. It’s more of their sweet spot, and it’s rich and compelling enough that they don’t need to resort to haunted carnival antics.

If you find the thought of Dimmu Borgir‘s Spiritual Black Dimensions mixed with Riverside‘s Rapid Eye Movement intriguing, then definitely check these guys out. My tolerance for overwrought symphonic black metal has paled over the years, but these guys harness that sound in a (mostly) balanced way, and the terrific vocals really tie everything together. A great surprise out of Poland, and a smart addition to Code 666’s diverse and innovative black metal roster.

The UK’s Fen started off as the former, with 2009’s Agalloch-like release The Malediction Fields. And now they’ve metamorphosed into the latter with their newest, Epoch. Maybe it’s a British thing – it’s where shoegaze originated with seminal shoegaze acts (and precursors) like Slowdive, Cocteau Twins and My Bloody Valentine.  Regardless of what motivated the shift in Fen‘s sound, I think it’s definitely a welcome evolution, as Epoch is one of the most successful examples to date for this new ‘blackgaze’ genre.

While black metal usually scrambles forward with jagged guitars and equally frantic drumming, here the aggression is mostly handled by the drums and vocals alone, leaving the guitars to melt into the keyboards, creating a lush, amorphous atmosphere. Couple that with Fen’s long, progressive songwriting, and you have an album full of immersive, haunting epics with a unique sound and character.

“Ghost of the Flood” explodes like a summer lightning storm, but one that’s diffused and blown-out through a curtain of misting rain, so that the overall effect is one of both savage and shimmering violence. The follow-up, “The Gibbet Elms,” reverses the effect – it’s a largely slower and more relaxed song, but it’s shredded by harsh, screamed vocals. Sometimes the blurring is even handled by song structure. “Half-Light Eternal” seems like it’s the album’s one classic shoegaze track (the clean vocals are much improved from Malediction, but still a touch too tremulous), but by its midpoint it too explodes into fury.

In fact, given the strength of these various sonic and structural juxtapositions, I’d say the album’s most furious moments are sometimes also their weakest and most unnecessary. “Carrier of Echoes” piles keyboard bloom atop a post-punk bassline for its first few minutes, but when the song cranks to a traditional black metal bash-fest, the riffs lose their clarity and focus. “Of Wilderness and Ruin” also has some problems when the drumming takes over and explodes into a frantic spasm – it’s simply too untamed and imprecise compared to the decadent ebb and flow that Fen has mastered on the rest of the album. I simply don’t think Fen needs these violent moments anymore, because the rest of the texture and experience here is so compelling.

It’s still amazing to me that these two odd bedfellows – black metal and shoegaze – managed to mate and create such interesting results in the first place. However, so far it seems like many bands – Alcest included – have been content to merely alternate between darkness and light, raging one moment and soothing the next. Epoch takes everything to the next level by successfully isolating and then blending the key elements of both genres in a balanced and organic way. And that’s why, despite a few jarring missteps, Epoch is a really fascinating evolution – not just for Fen, but for this new blackgaze genre in general.

Prepare to be mesmerized beyond your wildest expectations. When this digital promo arrived on my hard drive I was delighted, nay, devastated. New members, new material, no way, they were going to tarnish perfection. Took less than five minutes for me to change my tune, dawn has risen on a new age of Negură Bunget but the entire history of the last age is not only fresh on their minds, it is resplendent in auditory glory for all to enjoy, revel in the lush haunting keys, the ever present majestic undertones, yes even their undertones are majestic, and the razor sharp slashing bite of the vocals. The clean style is heavily used as well. The clean vocals decay into the mists and the horns rattle the roots of the mountains. The warbling melodic lines add that mystical quality so vital to past Negură Bunget albums. Overall this album is more folk, less black, more ‘progressive’. Many times while listening I am reminded of Weather Report’s I Sing The Body Electric, though I would not call Virstele Pamantului jazz metal.

If you sit and listen, trying to pick out the drum patterns, the bass lines, the subtleties of the guitars, you quickly get drawn in. Turn down the lights, turn up the volume and allow yourself to be drawn away to the land of faerie, or the Romanian version of it, when you come back you will never be he same. People will look at you and say, sadly shaking their heads, “He has never been quite right since he was carried away into the misty mountains.”

Favorite songs are irrelevant, listen in its entirety, but pay extra special attention to “Întoarcerea Amurgului” and “Jar.” This is easily the best Negură Bunget 2.0 release, lets hope for a second one.

And just to drive that home, Code666 enlisted the skills of Ephel Duath founder Davide Tiso, who has composed short interstitial pieces that bridge one song to the next. Most feature the same kind of bleak, vaguely industrial noir that’s characterized most of Code666’s releases, although the pieces vary depending on what tracks they’re connecting. Bigger beats and active tempos for some, melodic drone and post-rock for others. It’s an almost painterly approach that worked really well when Trent Reznor assembled the soundtracks for Lost Highway and Natural Born Killers (although his efforts were even more like crazed, cross-genre tapestries), and it elevates this from an arbitrary sequence of songs to a focused and holistic listening experience.

I’ve bought a number of Code666’s releases over the years (Negura Bunget‘s modern-classic Om and Manes‘ Vilosophe being the most memorable), but I’d only heard of half of these bands. The Axis of Perdition is certainly one I know – “Chained in the Damnation Asylum” sounds like Behemoth or Zyklon plying their trade in Freddy Krueger’s boiler room. Negura Bunget contributes “Cumpana” – a typically stunning piece of grandiose, savage and scrambling black metal. If you had any fears that the band had become just a pale shadow now that two of its founding members are gone, this should change your mind. And the UK’s Fen close out the album with “Twilight Descends (Eulogy)” – a 13-minute, storm-on-the-horizon crescendo of organic black metal. It’s also a great preview of their next release – particularly the clean vocals, which are performed better and mixed lower than they were on last year’s The Malediction Fields – my only complaint from that otherwise-excellent debut.

Then there’s the new bands – new to me, at least – and there were some nice surprises there too. France’s The Oath has a chunky blackened thrash approach with layered electronics – they sound like And Oceans‘ AMGOD or The Symmetry of I, Circle of O. Italy’s Void of Silence captures the wistful melodies of Tiamat‘s Wildhoney, so much so that it sounds like an unreleased track. The Prophecy, out of the UK, takes the light/heavy Opeth approach with their lush doom/death, except their softer moments sound like early 80s AOR balladry instead of soft 70s prog. And Hungary’s Damned Spirits Dance smashes together churning death metal with a progressive ear for rhythm and structure, plus two dramatically different clean vocals. One is clean, sonorous and Garm-like, and the other is a strange Zack de la Rocha rap attack that should probably annoy the crap out of me, yet the whole song holds together and is one of the most energetic and intriguing things on the entire album.

Only a few things here didn’t really hold my interest. Herrschaft, who kicked all kinds of thrashy EBM ass with their 2008 release Tesla, sound curiously muted and less metallic on “Abyssal Wounds.” Sweden’s DiabolicuM ignites a hellish furnace blast of black/death mayhem, but it’s nothing all that unique. And Minethorn plays a dour style of industrial sludge – kind of like Mindrot meets Skinny Puppy – it would have been okay had it been buried somewhere in the middle of the album, but it’s the first track (maybe a bit of history at work, since the band members eventually went on to form The Axis of Perdition). None of these are bad songs, though, not by any means, and once again, having them all flowing together with Tiso’s interstitials still keeps your interest over the album’s 79-minute running time.

So look, the fact that I just wrote up a normal review’s worth of coverage for what should ordinarily be considered a compilation should be a convincing enough reason to check this out. Plus I’ve now got three bands’ upcoming releases on my to-buy list (Axis, Negura and Fen), and four more on my to-check-out list. And I’ve got another varied and interesting album that I’ll be playing for awhile. Happy 10th, Code666.

Opener “Exile’s Journey” is aptly named, as it – and then rest of the lengthy album that follows – takes you on an extended trek that frequently blends and shifts between cacophony and contemplation. You’ll catch the obvious nods to Agalloch‘s Pale Folklore with the first barren notes of Exile. Then the song explodes into a clatter of frenetic black metal, as if rushing through a dense, choking tangle of thorns that tear at the skin. Soon after, it emerges into a quiet glade, joined by soaring, tasteful synths and slowing to a more stately pace. By the time warm acoustics and somber clean vocals join in, you should be ready and centered for the long journey ahead.

“A Witness to the Passing of Aeons” balances these moods just as ably, starting off in cramped, whispery gloom before ascending to a more gorgeous and stirring vista. Songwriting is wonderfully fluid and surprising, even crescendoing to a lovely melodic lead in its closing minutes. Unlike other dual-natured bands, Fen doesn’t just limit the rasped vocals to the harsher moments and keep the clean vocals to the more solemn ones – both are interchangeable, with the black vocals adding gravity and danger even as the melodies brighten and blossom.

In many ways, this starts to come off like black metal shoegazer, somewhere between Drudkh and Cocteau Twins. “Colossal Voids,” with its predominant clean vocals and shimmering guitars, makes this comparison even more apparent, as it comes off like countrymates Slowdive. By song’s end, though, the pounding drums and black metal have come crashing back in, and it seems that the song starts to pull itself apart. The clean vocals here start to suffer as well, coming off as tremulous and not confident enough, but that’s really the only spot on the album where this stood out.

The rest of The Malediction Fields offers one excellent track after another, with “The Warren’s” Isis-like opening minutes and the whole of “Lashed by Storm” being two standouts. The closing minutes of “Bereft” are also memorable in that Fen starts flirting with overtly bright, sunny-sounding notes that still fall shy of being ‘happy.’ They’re more hopeful, like shafts of light penetrating to the murk below, and if this sounds like blasphemy to you black metal purists, you might have to get used to it. I’ve been hearing this sort of willingness to push the light-and-shade dynamic more and more these days, showing up in recent efforts from Alcest, Svarti Loghin and Dekadent. Of course, even Burzum had its lovely moments way back when (parts of “Tomhet” and “Dunkelheit”), so perhaps this renaissance of lighter melody in black soil is just those seeds taking root.

The Malediction Fields will certainly take a few listens to sink into, but it’s well worth the time. Highly recommended for fans of the above-mentioned bands as well as Wolves in the Throne Room and the new Blut Aus Nord.

Eternal Deformity excels at seamless transitions – take for example the albums first proper song, “The Force of Your Heart”, essentially a bombastic, symphonic black metal track that effortlessly moves into moodier territory and back again; the follow up track “Unholy Divine” that begins with MIkael Akerfeldt-like clean vocals over choppy rhythms then gradually transforms into a smooth melodic number with some superb solo work, or the album closing and album highlight “Lovelorn”, which moves from sorrowful to heavy and aggressive and back again, then into bouncy and victorious sounds. In contrast to this, “Crime” is all over the place, with abrupt changes from slower, somber clean vocal parts to frenetic, aggressive and growl-y, then two-thirds through, completely drops off and dives into pure circus music territory, complete with announcer and all. Then there’s their cover of Depeche Mode’s “Little 15”, an extremely moody track that they truly make their own – I’ve never heard the original, so take that for what you will. I will say though, that I wouldn’t have known any better if I hadn’t done some research, because it’s just another curveball in an album full of curveballs one after another.

Another aspect of the album I particularly enjoy is their attention to detail – the subtle flute (or similar instrument) flourishes in “Unholy Divine”; the female backing “ahhhs” in “So Silent”, or the way the circus elements are weaved into the mix in an atmospheric role in “Thor’s Message” – there are so many little things like this scattered throughout the album that it will take several attentive listens to catch them all.

I honestly have nothing bad to say about Frozen Circus – a near flawless execution, extreme variety, a wide range of sounds and instruments, a solid production, top notch musicianship and arrangements makes for an excellent release. I highly recommend this, especially for those who like things a little different.

The vocals – heavily processed, of course – are definitely the most striking element of Herrschaft. Corrosive and serrated, they add a truly vicious edge to the experience. (If you’ve heard Leather Strip or God Module, then yeah, like that.) In a break from the grim, measured delivery of many industrial acts, Herrschaft‘s screams are varied and emotive, further raising the intensity. They’re not quite black metal, but there’s an undeniable link to that level of madness.

Tesla opens with “Valliant”, a mid-tempo thrasher that, while certainly a fine track, feels a bit on the familiar side. The second track, “Human Soul,” is much more arresting – a purer, harder example of busy, whirring EBM stomp. Crazed vocals slice through clouds of electronic ephemera, and during the chorus, Herrschaft shows that they’re not afraid of a little melody too. From there, Tesla streaks forward into track after electrifying track of beatscapes, beepspasms and buzzsaw guitars. BPMs vary from breakneck firestorms to a couple of grinding dirges, and all of it designed to kill.

If you don’t instinctively crank the volume when the first huge riff of “The Grand Architects” kicks in, check your speakers. Both “The Defenders” and “I Am the One” pump with the kind of echoey dance-club synths you expect from most Eurotrash dance music (or the Russian techno they play on Vladivostok, for those of you ‘cousins’ cruising around GTAIV‘s Liberty City), then get cut to shreds by the driving guitar pulse and razor-sharp vocals on each. Herrschaft even expands to a few refined, exotic inclusions, like the ghostly choirs on “Vortex,” or the Middle Eastern female vocal that weaves in and out of the title track.

(Speaking of female vocals, If I had to compare Tesla to anything in recent memory, it’d be The Kovenant‘s Animatronic, which I just listened to again today. That album is still as ridiculously infectious as ever, but almost too eager in its attempts to be maniacal and extreme. Those industrial gears grind and churn, but they’re also clogged with cheese.)

Industrial metal seems to have been quietly rusting away as of late. Ministry are shutting down, Fear Factory seems to be on creative strike, and it doesn’t seem likely we’ll ever see a sequel to Front Line Assembly‘s metallic classic, Millenium. Herrschaft definitely brings it all screaming back – a sleek, sharp, liquid T-1000 for the dancefloor. I can only imagine what kind of firepower the next model will arrive with.

Though not as jarring as some modern technical death metal (i.e. Necrophagist, Martyr, Gorod, Odious Mortem, etc), the generally controlled, mid paced of Tholus is still complex and intricate, but comes with the usual trapping of technical death metal-memorability and accessibility.

Still, for fans of technical wizardry and guitar skill, Constant won’t disappoint, and to their credit, the guitar work is allowed to breathe within the generally slower tempos, so you have a little more time to appreciate the fret play. Vocalist Aaron Ortiz is the perfect unassuming choice for the vocals as his deep yet understandable growl reminded me of Disincarnate’s Bryan Cegon as it complements the music rather than dominates it.

The guitar duo of Wally Scharold and Rob Pumpelly, especially on tracks like “Protocultures”, “Staring Back” and the angular title track is impressive yet also unassuming, just fluid and almost effortlessly complex. The injections of Hogland’s voice for many of the tracks adds an air of authenticity to the subject matter and the production is solid.

That all being said, Constant may still bore some tech death metal fans wanting a bit more bite and tenacity, as to be honest at times the album is pretty lethargic in its complexity with little or no fervent blasting, but for me that ended up as a bit of a boon for me and an album well worth checking out for a little different take on technical death metal.

With songs that range from 1 and a half minute introductions (“Eclipse”) to over eleven minutes (“Transpherium”, “Absolution” and “Sin Tide “Manufacturing”), you’d think Terminal World Perspective would be a draining listen, but luckily the band manages to keep things interesting for the 70-minute duration, though some may tire of the brittle robotics and futuristic, cybernetic ambience before albums end.

While the programming and post black atmospherics certainly take center stage, the band actually mange to inject some pretty vitriolic riffs into the mix such as “Creation Equivalence Principle”, “Spectrum of Divine Nature”, “Operation: Genesis Reprise” and “Global Storm Element” ensuring Terminal World Perspective is not just a sample and programming filled mess. My only gripe is that the longer tracks are largely the more ambient, instrumental numbers with “Transpherium” and “Absolution” making for nearly 22 minutes of programming-a tad too much. The slow plod of “Sin Tide “Manufacturing” is also another slight misstep in the album’s generally urgent pace and atmosphere.

Still, a solid debut that holds promise for this young Dutch band and their future.

From the smoking rain and dirty concrete of Blade Runner, the band has moved down to more organic textures. The changes aren’t limited to just adding actual vocals or taking the guitars and drums out of the closet, as the guys must have been eating truckloads of psychotic drugs as well. There’s no other way you could do something that resembles most post rock bands, Neurosis, searching for a suitable radio station in your car, Ulver’s post Marriage albums and Ephel Duath (just to namedrop a few better known bands). And that’s just the first four songs.

On the other hand, the eleven minute epoch “The Night Mr. Clenchman Died” (and dare I say, the most consistent and memorable of the nine ‘cues’) seems to lend a bit of ambiance from the old, the wise and the dead storytellers, mainly Jim Morrison and Johnny Cash, while perhaps throwing in a bit of Depeche Mode into the scene as well. The versatility of Pilot (Man with the Meat Machine) simply allows a bigger array of scenes to be crafted and incorporated for a much more involved experience. Indeed, the album is even more of a soundtrack than A Clockwork Highway ever was, even if some of the songs (or parts of ’em) feel more traditional compared to the cold ambient nature of the previous one.

However, I do not think this album is as philosophical in nature as Clockwork; this one seems more over the edge, more erratic and definitely much more compelling; simply because the listener will be denied of the comfort of knowing what’ll happen next. Just like a good thriller should. I cannot recommend the album to everyone as it’ll need the listeners undivided attention and participation. With changes from classic chase scenes, to techno thriller soundscapes, to spy movie antics and back to lounge music, it’s pretty obvious this won’t be classified as easy listening.

And that, I would think, will be the deciding factor to most. I doubt anyone will use words like “OK” and “pretty good” with this one, as the crowd will no doubt divide into two opposing camps. Superficial? Is the album trying to be artsy “just because”? Is it the best thing since sliced bread and getting a blowjob from two different chicks at the same time? Who the fuck knows but I’m sure those willing to take the plunge and give it a shot are indeed granted with a thought provoking record that will, in the best case scenario, speak to them for a long time after the album has ceased spinning; no matter what group the listener will eventually fall into.

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.

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.

With Primordial vocalist Alan Nemtheanga in the ranks, VOS create a rich and varied sound that crosses many boundaries. Not as emotive as the Finnish melancholy filled take on doom, VOS are far more robotic, with programmed drums and lots of far more mechanical atmospherics rather than a lush organic sound. The opening twenty minute, three part title track pretty much covers all doom metal territory with a bleak outlook on mankind’s future. The track actually plays like a movie with a palatable start, middle and hopeful climax, with Nemtheanga covering very Aaron Stainthorpe like territory in his mostly clean delivery. The despairing “Grey Horizon” is slightly more traditional in its use of sobering guitars and minimal synths, and Nemtheanga shows surprising emotional range.

Main composer Riccardo Conforti shows himself to be an adventurous song writer, and his Italian heritage surface in some of the very subtle choral work of the first 2 tracks, but comes to light in the evocative Untitled mid album track. His mix of both romantic and mechanical elements is as strange dichotomy (church bells and industrial FX to start “To A Sickly Child”), but he pulls it off. “To A Sickly Child” also shows Nemtheanga’s more brutish side with a deep more traditional funeral doom growl along with his croon. The eleven minute track, like the title track covers a lot of ground, encompassing a whole gamut of classic doom and industrial elements but it never seems forced or muddled like Zaraza or even Source of Tide. At 7:36 it crashes in with a thunderous riff that’s classic doom metal, showing Conforti clearly understands the genre despite his mainly experimental musings.

“Dark Static Moments,” at 15 minutes starts to test your attention span, as most doom metal albums do with mostly the same lethargic pace, but the atypical synth and FX work as well as Nemtheanga’s evocative voice keep it interesting. I listened just to see what Conforti would insert next, and “Dark Static Moments” actually ends up being the most “normal” of the tracks on the album, being possibly the slowest most depressive track on the album comparable to My Dying Bride’s better late era work and a welcome return of Nemtheanga’s growl. “CXVIII” closes out the album with a rather piecemeal instrumental with some Italian spoken words (there are several expected bouts of it littered around the album), but it doesn’t put any emotional closure on album ripe with somber passion.

Still, Human Antithesis is a solid, sometimes engrossing album, and VOS appear to be a band ready to make a splash with this album and deliver something good from Italy that’s not power metal or pasta based.

 Code666 is calling it a post black metal classic. That’s a bit premature. Once we get past the distinguished guests, the actual band’s performance is really nothing new, especially in this over hyped sub genre called ‘post black metal’, not interesting, not stimulating. Where the debut has many good interesting ideas, the sequel has but a few and the third try, this one, there is just not really anything noteworthy here. Some interesting passages, but nothing is sustained. When effects and samples, especially endless loops, completely replace the music instead of enhancing it, it holds no appeal for me.

 When Celtic Frost did it twenty years ago it was as interludes and was interesting, but by the time they started integrating these effects they started losing fans, I didn’t appreciate it then and I don’t now. Many people can rightly claim this is not black metal, but there are still some traditional black passages. As with Fire Walk With Us, the vocals are the highlight. Attila’s vocal delivery is among his best. Strip out all the samples, effects, programming, techno beats, etc. and there is some interesting music, add it all back in and the whole is a less than memorable release. “Does Not Compute” is techno dance in an emergency room. Sterile. “U.V. Impaler” is slower paced with some melody, basically a metal song. “Faustian Spirit of The Earth” has faster drumming, nice growling vocals and a thrash feel with simple yet effective guitar rhythm with the sampling effects not too bothersome. “The Triumph” is slow, mellow, except the vocals of course, and the vocals are key to this one. Like all the rest, it can’t escape the techno disco thing, degenerating quickly at the six minute mark. Discard the last five minutes and you get a good song.

 The highlight of the disc is “The Alienation of a Blackened Heart” with its audible bass and quick high pitched guitars. Too bad it is less than three minutes long. By the way, the disc includes mp3 files and a video, but the video would not play on my computer so I can’t comment. I think I’ll go listen to Carpathian Forest now.