Now, since their debut, they have released a couple more albums with Shrines to the Warhead , Black Frost Fallout,  and their last album, Survival, back in 2013, but I never got around to hearing those for som reason. Then the band took a bit of a hiatus, only dropping a few singles over the last 13 years.

But here we are on a new label, with a new album. I had to go back and check out the debut, and it’s still an icky, oozing affair that hits the spot. And fans will be happy to hear that not much has changed in the Highgate camp.

The trio still delivers a blackened sludge/doom mix that taps into a blacker Crowbar or Negative Reaction, Primitive Man, Cough, Eyehategod, Wolvhammer, Beldam, etc. But one thing that jumped out to me was the new shiny, but still neurotic, fuzzed-out production, which is immediately apparent on the crawling, loping opening throes of the first track, “Terraforming Hell”, before it briefly transforms into a feral, snarling black metal gallop.

Other than the killer production, there are still the pained howls and blackened rasp of the vocals of the Porter brothers, the throbbing bass, and ample, droning, drawn-out moments of tense, paranoia-inducing atmospheres. But the emphasis is still heavily geared towards fuzzy, festering crawls that make you itch and squirm, not the warmer fuzzy stylings of their more stoner-y cousins.

The likes of “Deceiver”, the almost 10-minute spiral into dread, “The Writhing Dawn”, or the perfectly titled closer “At Paranoia’s Poison Door”, will have your teeth falling out and your skin festering as you scratch and twitch like a meth addict having the DTs.

The original lineup of V consisted of Swedish hardcore and metal scene stalwarts Andreas Bair and Jonas Gyrth (still with the band) who formed the original starting point of V called Amend, who were the next iteration of the band Clean Shade of Dirty featuring guitarist Per Sodomizer Eriksson of Bloodbath and Katatonia fame. So for those keeping track, it’s Clean Shade of Dirty > Amend > V > Vorder which, according to the band, is a change made to celebrate the band making it out the other side of the pandemic, calling it an “upgrade to: V order, the order of V which is written as: Vorder.”

Why is all this important? I DUNNO! But the band mention this all in the press pack attached to this record sooooo… I guess they thought you might want to know? Now you know!

Anyway, this album is pretty friggin’ neat.

Speaking of the pandemic, before it hit, the band formerly known as V (and all those other ones) made a live recording on top of a mountain because… why not? I guess (?) it’s called Led Into the Wild and, you can see parts of it on Youtube but the rest is apparently impossible to find. Countless Google and Youtube searches turn up nothing (I tried every version of the band’s name that I know of), and the couple videos that you can sort-of find have been viewed only a couple hundred times since they were posted a year and a half ago. I only bring this up because it seems to point to a pattern of this band doing needlessly VERY difficult and complicated things for a payoff that, as far as I can tell anyway, is very minimal. Don’t get me wrong, the videos I can see are pretty dang cool! I’d love to see more! But the product just seems inaccessible. It’s really mysterious! Spooky, even, which is entirely appropriate given the type of atmospheric, dreary (in the best way), eerie Scandinavian Doom and Post-Hardcore we find on False Haven. From the ominous album cover, to the murky production, to the pacing and tone of the entire experience, Vorder create a palpable atmosphere of internal anguish, hopelessness and fear, and yet… somehow an introspective beauty that come together for a satisfying, if oppressive listen.

From the first note of “Introspective,” the tone is set with unmistakable dread – there’s a mournful, desolate quality to the opening guitars that let you know straight away this is not going to be an invigorating experience. But where you may be lead to believe the band may follow with something slow, plodding, maybe even a bit airy – the band instead goes for an immediate gut punch of heaping Isis/Pelican inspired Post-Hardcore riffs that carry the weight of a thousand dying suns, while vocalist Andreas Baier’s tortured screams seem to be hurdled to the heavens themselves, drenched in a sort of bitter agony and spite aimed at whoever would listen. It’s the sort of murk and mire that worships at the temple of Neurosis and Old Man Gloom, while culling from the emotional depths of the likes of Harakiri for the Sky or Numenorean, perhaps no more bleakly than on “The Few Remaining Lights,” which (I think?) features a guest vocal spot from… someone. Whoever it is carries a disoriented, mournful tune that lends itself perfectly to the vibe (if this is just what Andreas’ cleans sound like, my apology for the mix-up) Vorder are conjuring, and just to add an even greater sense of doom, the band breaks out the use of organs on the track that, along with the track’s plodding, cavernous riffs, transport you to a moth and cobweb-ridden crypt that, by the sounds of things, may well end up your eternal resting place. It’s such a perfectly suited track for this album that I just find myself wanting even more of it when it’s over.

Thankfully, it’s certainly not an end to the oppression. The horrifically foreboding “Judgement Awaits” could well be a final dirge for the sort of person who enters death with trepidation – knowing full well that if there is an afterlife, they’re not destined for a very peaceful one. There’s a fantastic build before the song’s mournful solo that pounds like the hammering heartbeat of a death row inmate strapped to the chair, just waiting for their executioner to throw the switch and send them to whatever form of eternity awaits them. Similarly, album closer “Come Undone” plays out like someone who’s reached the end of their rope, simultaneously dragging their feet to an inevitable, ugly end – and lashing out the entire way at every injustice and grievance that’s been heaped upon them. I’ll be honest, like a lot of Doom, it’s 10+ minutes probably isn’t entirely necessary, but regardless it’s still a perfectly fitting end to this dreary affair.

By all accounts, this could well be the last we hear of the name Vorder before the band goes back into hibernation for a bit and reemerges as, like Vorder.X or Vorderian or some other moniker with an equally confusing explanation. Who knows! What I do know is that for now, Vorder have created a wonderfully deep and dark record that certainly makes the Scandinavian tradition of high-quality doom proud. Here’s to hoping False Haven gets the attention is rightfully deserves.

But while the French have made great strides recently in representing the genre, their Canadian cousins across the pond have been carrying the torch for some time now, and one of the finest examples from Quebec over the last dozen years has been the excellent Cauchemar, and their latest effort is perhaps their finest yet.

For those new to these Canucks, they’ve built their reputation on a foundation of classic Doom-based Heavy metal that brings to mind the likes of Pagan Altar or Cirith Ungol, or a more contemporary counterpart like Smoulder, but delivered with those infectious French-spoken vocals that continue to prove to be a perfect companion for this kind of product. For those who’ve been with the band for a while, this album showcases a tiny switch-up in the dynamics, adding a little more space to their sound, giving the songs a feel as if they were being played in a rural country tavern by torchlight. “Notre-Dame-sous-Terre,” “the epic “Rosa Mystica” and moments in “La Sorcière” are excellent examples, the first really slowing everything down and settling in to that dank, musty classic Doom vibe best served by the glow of candlelight in a room filled with skulls and spider webs. The organ hits provided by singer Annick Giroux really help to set the scene and provide a creepy backdrop for the band to build what I assume must either be some sort of demonic summoning or sacrificial rite. I don’t speak French so I can’t really be sure which it is, but Giroux’s impassioned, somewhat tortured vocals suggest at some possible interdimensional madness settling in under the surface, like maybe she’s summoned some malevolent deity one time too many.

But where those tracks certainly walk on the darker side of Cauchemar’s sound, others bring a much more triumphant tone to the mix. “Rouge Sang” is a driving, upbeat banger that starts off at a much rowdier pace than you’d necessarily expect from the band, bringing a bevy of NWOBHM influences into the fray, before ending on a more familiar Doomy dirge. “Le Tombeau de L’aube” even brings in a little double-bass action to briefly help kick the revs up a notch. While these songs are fun and I do appreciate the band changing up the pace to avoid stagnation, I’m not sure this is necessarily the band’s most comfortable wheelhouse. They’re really at their strongest when they let the music breathe a bit to create some real atmosphere and depth, especially when those aforementioned organs get into the mix.

Rosa Mystica really shines because the band seems to have hit its stride and found a formula that works best for them. They create a tone and sound played with the kind of confidence that, despite the fact that I have no idea what they’re singing about, I’m still left with very vivid (if morose) pictures in my head as the album plays on. The sounds here are as familiar as they are enticing, and Cauchemar continues to grow into a super solid little traditional doom outfit, and Rosa Mystica is yet another really solid release from Temple of Mystery records, who keep building a nice resume for themselves.

Side note; this better not disappoint me like everything and everyone else this year. No pressure, but step up, Witnesses. I need you like Ben Affleck needs acting school (he was terrible in that film). That joke is for me and not you.

After a short intro called “Entrance (giggity),” the first official track, “The Collapse” kicks in. What’s apparent to me immediately is that the production is a little murkier than the previous album, but not overwhelmingly. Once the vocals kick in surrounding the leading doomy riff, I just want to point out that if this vocal style is not your cup of tea, it doesn’t vary much throughout the album, so if this makes you want to turn it off, go ahead. Your loss. If I could make an instant comparison, it would probably be to the vocals on the Stone Healer record I reviewed earlier this year. There are also a lot of clean guitars utilized throughout the track, but my dude can RIFF. After this first track, despite its 7 plus minute length, I knew that I was probably going to enjoy this record.

Before going any further, I want to relay that this album is 6 tracks and nearly 40 minutes. On top of that, there’s a short intro and an interlude, so some of the songs are quite lengthy. Let’s take for example the 8 plus minute third track, “Repose.” It begins with a bit of an extended intro, which is a distorted guitar and vocals. Once the drums and bass kick in, the vocals become more intense, but still clean. In the guitars, a little over halfway through, there’s a bit of a, believe it or not, southern rock vibe I hear, but maybe that’s just me. If there is one slight misstep on the album, it’s that the end of this song segues into the previously mentioned “Interlude,” and slows the momentum just a little.

However, this is one of those rare albums where the momentum actually picks up again at the end. In my opinion, the two best tracks are the final ones, “They Giveth and Taketh Away” and “It Will Come for You, It Comes for Everyone” respectively. The former is nearly 11 minutes whereas the latter is barely over 5, so there’s a little balance. Where Witnesses never lacks is in the good songwriting department. Granted, with this type of metal, there’s not much of a difference between, say doom, post metal, and even shoegaze. I would fit “They Giveth and Taketh Away” in the post metal category and would place “It Will Come for You, It Comes for Everyone” more in the traditional Candlemass doom spectrum, and they’re possibly my two favorite tracks on the album.

So, here’s the verdict; This is awesome. Is it as good as the previously mentioned Doom II? Man, I don’t know… which is a good thing. There are differences. Firstly, The Collapse is shorter, and it feels shorter. It feels more immediate and urgent. What I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be surprised if this ends up on my list. I have been listening to it constantly. I don’t know that I could recommend this enough. Sometimes, the bands who go unsigned really make me scratch my head. Witnesses is one of those, as I feel they could really blow up if given the right label and momentum.

Maybe things really are looking up? I know everyone had a shit 2020 – I won’t bore you with the personal details of my god-forsaken year – but while lots of folks have been ready to kick 2020 off a cliff and welcome the new year with open arms, I haven’t necessarily been so… optimistic. That being said, 2021 has barely gotten out the gate, and I’ve already got what I think is a viable candidate to make my year-end list.

If Alchemical Warefare from Alan “Nemtheanga” Averill’s (Primordial) side project Dread Soveriegn is a portent of things to come in 2021, maybe this year isn’t destined for the trash heap after all.

I don’t know what it is about side projects that so often end up working so well for me, but there’s no shortage of evidence that I REALLY like it when artists step away from their main gig to work on something else. Whether it’s Ryan Waste stepping away from the Municipal boys to put together criminally underrated Speed/Thrash outfit Bat, Patrick Jensen and Sharlee D’Angelo’s fantastic Witchery (honestly the best of all their collective band histories, in my honest opinion), or any number of other truly top-notch offerings throughout metal’s history, there’s obviously something to be said about really talented artists put together passion projects when they have the opportunity.

That all being said, while I’ve always been a big fan of Primordial, and specifically Nemtheanga’s truly unique vocal stylings, Dread Sovereign’s first two albums didn’t really hold my attention. They were fine offerings, but as I often find with a lot of doom metal projects, there just wasn’t quite enough to keep me interested throughout the entire experience. This may well be a personal shortcoming, but what can I say? My review, my opinion, buttercup.

This time around though, the iconic Irishman has injected a good dose of traditional heavy metal influences into his work, along with a touch of heavy-as-fuck, stoner-y Bison B.C. vibes here and there, and the end result is an album with a hell of a lot more variation and substance that fully grabs me by the throat and drags me along for the whole ride through sheer force of will. That’s not a complaint, I fucking love it. HARDER, DADDY!

While not a word often associated with doom metal, Alchemical Warfare has a real sense of urgency about it that really keeps things lively and exciting, two more words that, uh, don’t really go with doom. But nevermind that! After a heavy, building, Sabbath-like intro to “She Wolves of the Savage Season,” the band changes paces and really gets after it with upbeat, peppy riffs, and those unmistakable Nemtheanga vocals leading the way and commanding your attention. It’s an unexpected shot of adrenaline and really gets this album off to a proper start. The song goes out with a nice and slow, epic tail end that on prior albums might already have me feeling ready to move on to something else, but this time is a welcome change of pace that makes me want to see what’s next.

Follow-up “The Great Beast We Serve” really takes the traditional heavy metal influence and puts it center stage, providing a mighty, anthemic ode to the Dark Lord himself that’s uncomplicated, gets to the point, and sells itself very well without relying on too many frills. Great, fist-pumping riffs, a great hook, job done. Similarly, after a bit of a slow build, “Nature is the Devil’s Church” keeps unholy spirits high with a dirty, galloping riff, before really opening the taps with a legitimate rager that would get the darkest of demons whipped into a supernatural frenzy, and that’s before the band breaks things down with a nasty little break complete with chanting vocals and war-like pummeling drums that sound like some evil invocation of The Great Old Ones.

It’s on “Her Master’s Voice,” however, that Nemtheanga really puts his strengths, and indeed the band’s strengths on full display. He’s great throughout the album, but this is, without question, his vocal and songwriting highlight. I heard this song for the first time the week before Christmas, and the chorus has been stuck in my head ever since. The track has a more moody, classic doom vibe that carries into the atmospheric break on “Viral Tomb,” before the band kicks things back into gear with the driving “Devil’s Bane,” one of the album’s real headbangers. The band ends the album itself with the very Occult-y, chanting “Ruin Upon the Temple Mount,” calling to mind equal parts Melvins and Twilight of the Gods-era Bathory. Appropriate, given the band round things out with s spirited cover of Bathory’s “You Don’t Move Me (I don’t Give A Fuck),” a track recorded all the way back in June of 1983, but not released until 1992 on their first compilation album, Jubileum: Volume I. It’s for sure a unique and surprising choice for songs to cover from the legendary band, but pretty cool to bring up such an obscure track!

Given how much this kind of thing is usually so hit or miss for me, I’m very VERY pleasantly surprised to find how much of a hit this is for me. I’ve always wanted to get behind this project more, but my respect and love of Primordial and the high regard with which I hold Nemtheanga’s unique vocal talents have always left me wanting more from it. Now, I think I have the album that I’ve been waiting for from these guys, and I couldn’t be happier for it. Don’t be surprised if I mention it again in about 12 months.

I’ve been listening to the Rochester, NY space-rock trio for a few years now, after stumbling across their debut album Orion in 2016. Among all of the other metal I had on repeat that year – Mithras, Moonsorrow, Insomnium – that album stood out for its warm, earthy sound and desert-sunset atmosphere and I wound up returning to it often. Follow-up Longing to Be the Mountain, with its more muscular and rollicking explorations, got plenty of plays in 2018 as well, shooting up to #5 on my year-end list. 

Yet until the release of Dead Star, the band was still something I’d put on occasionally as opposed to full-on binge status. That binge has now been going on for several weeks (’cause hey, we all have a lot more free time these days). Dunno why I hadn’t checked out their other releases before – 2018’s hypnotic and groovy EP Repeater, and their phenomenal 2013 demo (think Sixteen Horsepower covering Pink Floyd’s Meddle) – but now I want it ALL. And all throughout that binge, I think I’ve listened to Dead Star now, what? 15, 20 times? First streaming, and then on the pristine, bone-white vinyl that just came in the mail. 

The big draw here is the 2-part, 16-minute opening monolith, “Red Star Parts 1 and 2.” It’s not a massive departure from some of the band’s longer, more expansive songs, but it has a colder atmosphere and a darker edge than they’ve explored before. Part 1 is a slow cosmic crescendo of subdued and tribal drumming, ghostly vocals, and distorted guitar lines that unfold like an aurora borealis. Headphones are a must. And then, 10 minutes in, the thrusters fire up, the guitars kick in, and you’re blasted into deep space while waves of  gorgeous radiation trail in your wake. The band has cut this last part down into a radio edit (also included on the end of the EP), but I still prefer to go through the whole journey time after time.

The remaining tracks are diverse and satisfying. Both the relaxed and drifting “Echo of a Waning Star” and the meditative acoustic title track could have easily fit on any other King Buffalo release. They serve as lovely bookends for the other two tracks, which are also infused with that same deep-space gloom as “Red Star.” “Ecliptic” is a 3-minute instrumental which sounds like the band has been cramming John Carpenter soundtracks, while “Eta Carinae” is a more adventurous and playful jaunt. Just wait until the killer, propulsive rhythm that kicks in around halfway through, it’s addictive. And then that’s it. Reprise of “Red Star Part 2” again, and it’s over. Flip the record, play it again. 

Back to the topic of favorite bands. I gave it some thought, and decided that for any band to really make the upper echelon of my listening time, they have to do three things: 

1. Be something I really like (shimmering Pink Floyd compositions + swaggering Sabbath groove? Hell yes).
2. Write excellent and compelling songs and albums (there’s not a dud or skippable track in their entire discography)
3. Surprise me, through new evolutions of their sound or new ideas.

Opeth, Enslaved, and Insomnium, to name a couple of other favorites, make the grade on all three. And now King Buffalo. Dead Star easily succeeds at the first two points, but it’s the third one that really clinched it here, by embracing the space in space rock but without losing all of the wonderfully earthy qualities that define the band’s sound. Feet on the ground, head in some far-off skull-shaped nebula.

Oblique… opens with the band’s longest, most ambitious song yet. “Brooding Hex” sprawls forth from a dark atmospheric opening before shifting in to the band’s established black/doom plod. Additional layers of synth and noise give the crawling guitar and distorted vocals a more typical black metal feel, before breaking off for the guitarists to churn out a dark groove. The synths and noise spring back several minutes later for more plodding doom and an extended droning coda to wrap up the final four minutes of the 19 minute monster.

It’s a fitting opening, one that sets the table for a feast of oppressive metal. They continue with some bleating riffing on “Illuminati” that would be home on any number of noisy hardcore albums, and drag an epic Candlemass-esque riff through the dirt on “March of the Wolves”, while copiously using drones, noise, and feedback to segue between songs. The use of drones and noise has been expanded far beyond that of their debut and the overall flow of the album is improved. Like the stellar III by Portland’s Hell, the quiet moments, the drones, the build ups turn what often sounded like slow black metal on Below… into genuinely crushing monuments of doom. Mastering the ebb and flow is a big part of what makes great doom great, and Culted have really improved on that front.

Culted have slapped a sizeable portion of flesh on the skeletal black/doom of their debut. The new meat is welcome, though the extended running time (at 62 minutes Oblique… is about 15 minutes longer than Below…) and droning segues make the last portions of the album an endurance test as the murky production starts to wear on the material. Some of the segues could be pared down and the noise and feedback more married to the music proper, but Oblique to All Paths is still a solid album on the merits and a nice improvement on the band’s take on doom.

Closely following in the visceral footsteps of 2009’s Houses of the Unholy, Church of Misery tackles their patented murder centric shtick with grotesquely merry exuberance. Though the band’s sound is firmly and heavily influenced by Black Sabbath, there’s also a massive dose of classic heavy rock (think Blue Oyster Cult and Grand Funk Railroad) that lifts them to a place few of their contemporaries can reach: music that’s as dark as it is just a good fuckin’ time. The tone of the lyrics, the permagrin inducing grooves and psychedelic freakouts should be as incongruous as nuts and gum. But founding member Tatsu and company turn the dark art of murder into a Technicolor blood orgy with all the glee of the Manson family blasted on tabs of blue sunshine. Thy Kingdom Scum is a snapshot of a band who have nailed their craft, and they roll around in the glorious rock and roll carnage like giggling school children.

Take “Cranley Gardens”, for example. Based on the works of Dennis Nilsen, it opens up with that familiar bloopy psyche rock tone, builds to a thick doomy riff, and breaks loose as a ball-breaking rocker that sounds like it should be accompanied by a gaggle of dancing bell-bottomed lovelies. Vocalist Hideki Fukasawa’s guttural exhortation “I’m gonna fuck you! I’m gonna kill you!” lays the sleaze on extra thick before the band effortlessly shifts into an intense cover of Quatermass’ “One Blind Mice”. The departure of longtime guitarist Tom Sutton (ex-Firebird) hasn’t diminished their ability to induce psychotropic visions, as newcomer Ikuma Kaawabe melts neurons with his effortless freakouts on “Brother Bishop”, “Cranley Gardens” and closer “Dusseldorf Monster”.

Grinning ear to ear while stabbing a stranger in the face… it’s a perverse combination and these guys have honed it to such a fine point that they really have no equal. Not even Electric Wizard capture the dark, trashy underbelly of hippie and stoner culture like Church of Misery. Crank up this shit up and let there be doom.

Probably the two most important aspects of classic/epic doom are the vocals and the riffs. Epicus Doomicus Metallicus wouldn’t be the benchmark it is without the operatic vocals of Johan Längquist or Leif Edling’s heavy and emotive songwriting. Demon Lung pull off both aspects well and add a few touches of their own to the classic script. Vocalist Shanda Fredrick has a majestic voice, carrying the songs and fully realizing the dark atmosphere of the riffs. Her voice is less operatic than Längquist or, to cite a more recent example, Iban Arrieta of Great Coven and Warchetype, but it is nonetheless wide ranging and soulful. She has a deeper register than many of her female contemporaries , similar in tone to Sharie Neyland’s work with The Wounded Kings, and her voice maintains a dark femininity fit for the album’s solemn theme.

The riff work and songwriting is mix of early Cathedral, Candlemass, and just a hint of stoner doom. Big languid riffs coupled with faster trad metal riffing accompanied by persistent double bass, effective background use of organ and tolling bells, and trudgy stomps and effective harmonies. Guitarist Philip Burns enjoys his pinch harmonics and he regularly accents his riffs with squealing vigor, sort of a Zakk Wylde by way of Gaz Jennings performance. Everything is very clean and tight without superfluous leads or solos. There are a handful of standout riffs, notably the openings of “Heathen Child” and “Eyes of Zamiel” that nail the trad doom spike with appropriate force, and some catchy lyrical lines writhing about, but not much truly pops. Solid and consistent, good but not great.

The foundation clearly exists, but despite the band’s obvious talents The Hundredth Name is lacking that little extra zezz to push it over the top. Shanda sounds like she’s holding back at times, perhaps in a bid to avoid the vocal excess that follows the style. Maybe it’s that I expect a certain amount of over-the-top hamminess with my classic doom (i.e. Saint Vitus with Scott Reagers, Cirith Ungol, and everyone who ever sang for Candlemass) and so would appreciate a more outrageous vocal performance, but the restraint is understandable and well executed. Nitpicking aside, there are few better ways to get your modern epic doom fix than Demon Lung, and their debut’s speaks to growing strengths that suggest their best is still on the horizon.

Devil hasn’t refined their approach as much as they’ve distilled it, spilling forth an album 100% riff centered doomy rock. The rough production that defined their demo and debut is still present, along with the simple verse-chorus song structure. Guitarists Kai and Stian have focused their Sabbath/Witchfinder General mash up, coughing up bluesy doom riffs with just a bit of garage rock spirit and edge. Joakim’s vocals have been turned down a bit, but his delivery is as straightforward as ever. The lyrics are similarly occult themed, something that’s become a prerequisite for the retro doom lot, but remain more ear catching than most.

Gather the Sinners is rich with a charm many of Devil’s peers lack. Like Clutch and Church of Misery, they have the power to get the old noggin nodding and instantly put you in a good mood. There’s a total lack of pretension and a certain level of cliché that makes their songs breeze by and worm their way through your ears. Tracks like “Southern Sun”, “Beyond the Gate” and “Demons on Wheels” scratch the doom and gloom itch nicely with their infectious choruses and Sabbathy riffs. “Darkest Days” is like a marriage between Pentagram and Witchfinder General, with its “Love on Smack” rhythmic rigidity giving way to a riff that channels Victor Griffin’s despondent warble. “Darkest Days” captures the light-hearted spirit that mitigates the all too serious occult imagery that surrounds this style of music.

Gather the Sinners is not as diverse as Time to Repent, but this is to the band’s advantage. It’s nearly 20 minutes longer than the debut with no recycled material to hold them back. Barring the doom forays and the sub two minute acoustic break in album’s middle, they maintain a mid paced stomp throughout. Of course, it’s the rough edges that set them apart from their musically polished peers. They’re not as technical on their instruments compared to Kadavar or Graveyard, and they don’t nail the Sabbath worship as well as Orchid, and that’s what makes them refreshing. They’re the Hell’s Angels among the bell bottomed hippies, bashing out simple, memorable songs perfect for pounding beers and drunken sing-alongs.

Hell has an outstanding grasp of the conventions of doom and black metal and how they complement each other. Blackened tremolo picked riffs are laid over slow, deliberate drums and evolve from a blasphemous cacophony to feverish psychedelia as the tempos shift. Big, spacious doom riffs morph into mid-paced black metal that shifts to a sprint before dropping mammoth waves of doom. They take their time building the atmosphere, shifting styles and delivering intensely satisfying payoffs at the end of each track. “Mourn” drops a series of chord concussions heavy enough to flatten a city block. “Decedere” ends with a big thick riff, burgeoned by an emergent thick bass tone.

The production is of the typically trebly black metal variety, but the filthy tone of the bass is prominent and adds just the right amount of thickness to the mix. It’s a grim marriage, one that provides heft and weight without sacrificing the ethereal analog fog. III was originally released on cassette last year and the production accurately reflects the intended format. Judging from the sounds of the digital promo, I’d wager this new LP run sounds even better.

Despite the fairly lame name, Hell manages a delicate stylistic balancing act that makes the moniker rather apt. It’s a tall task managing dark atmosphere, big riffs, and slicing bursts of violence and Hell does a better job of fusing doom and black metal than any of their peers. III trumps their excellent early material in scope and structure, and is possibly the best example of the style released in the past few years. Fans of both black metal and doom should get a great deal of satisfaction from this release and I highly recommend digging into their back catalog as well.

The two LP tracks, “Chaoskampf” and “Brazen Bull of Phalaris”, travel the well worn slow mo doom path, but pull quite a few cues from death/doom, black metal, and sludge. Vocals alternate between a low death growl and a high throaty scream. There’s an emphasis on melody and harmonic interplay between the two guitars that lends an emotional weight to the music similar to recent releases from Pallbearer and 40 Watt Sun. “Chaoskampf” breaks the despondent harmonies with a blackened mid section before returning to the dirge to decay to a slow phasing droning conclusion. “Brazen Bull…” stays down tempo throughout, drops the distortion for a clean ambient break in the middle before the massive riffing returns for a transition to clean tones and a trickling conclusion.

The two downloadable tracks round off a full 55 minute runtime. “Monuments to Avarice” has some excellent Black Shape of Nexus style chugging drone mixed in, while “Empirical Evidence of a Deranged God” starts in more typical doom fashion. A brief sample introduces a choppy Sabbath riff and a broken homage to Sleep’s “Sonic Titan” before more massive dirge follows, closing with  lengthy bout of fast blackened guitar over lumbering drums and bass. Those opening moments are the only hints of stoner/doom cliché and area little out of place with the rest of the album.

All told, Usnea’s debut is excellent and brings back many happy memories of Ocean (RIP). The slow trickling harmonies, the monumental dirge, the slowly ebbing songs coalescing around a weighty melancholic atmosphere is a refreshing reprieve from drone/doom monotony and stoner Sabbath worship. This young band has delivered quite a sucker punch and sludge/doom aficionados and fans of Peaceville’s early catalog should take note.

From the opening notes of “Worthless” to the withering closure of “Masks”, Archon maintains a staid, meditative approach highlighted by the use of synth and noise. Synths and effects are laid atop the guitars, which now sport a tone comparable to s/t-era Saint Vitus, to great effect, producing a substantially ominous atmosphere. The songs are, for the most part, kept down-tempo with a few up ticks, notably the hobbled black metal pacing in “God’s Eye” and the muddled chaos of “Desert Throne”. Great use is made of the two vocalists, as deep death growls, throaty blackened rasps, and clean vocals slither alongside and atop one another.

The new vintage sounding production is good, but the emphasis on atmosphere comes at a price. The crests seem slower and smaller, and riffs don’t pop like they do on Ruins at Dusk.  Of course, they still manage to drop a handful of nasty doom bombs along the way. The way they build tension at the end of “Masks” to a glorious eruption in to a chugging riff that shifts to sustained doom notes as pitched noise drags in the background is marvelous. The psych solo toward the end of “Desert Throne” is excellent, and the interplay between the two vocalists in the middle of “Worthless” is just pure coldblooded darkness and a textbook example of how having multiple dedicated vocalists can enhance a song.

All of this brings me back to my initial statement. Expectations can put a damper on anything, no matter how good it is. A perfectly cooked burger will taste like bitter ash if you’re expecting a turkey club, but unlike ordering at a restaurant where it’s expected you get what you want, musicians are free to take whatever path they choose, regardless of what the audience wants. Is Ouroboros Collapsing a damn fine record? It sure as balls is. Is it really what I wanted to hear from them? No, it isn’t. But you know what? Fuck me. In the end, they produced another good album, one that holds up incredibly well to both their contemporaries in the doom scene and to their debut album. Ruins at Dusk will always be there for me to revisit, and until then I can enjoy the new stuff for what it is. A wonderfully atmospheric album of mammoth doom, the kind of stuff that conjures the scent of dead air drifting through an abandoned chapel, all darkness and omens, invoking all the apocalyptic dread this shithole earth can handle.

Maleficia Lamiah owes as much to Pink Floyd’s psychedelic implosions as it does to Sleep’s wall of fuzz and stoned repetitions. Guitarist/vocalist Pete ____ has spent many years and a small fortune cultivating a collection of amps to develop his guitar tone and it shows. The tone is big and lush, like amplified moss pulsing with a lively thrum, and is carried by Carolyn’s Hakius-like tumbling rhythms. The depth of sound they achieve with two instruments is remarkable, as the duo move from the crush of lumbering doom to paint tripped out water colored canvasses.

“Maleficia Lamiah” starts, like their other releases, firmly fixed in the stoner doom tradition of Dopesmoker-era Sleep. Pete’s vocals are smoothed out a bit, as he moves away from the hoarse groan to something more rock inspired. It’s not long though before the band takes an extended psych bath in the murky LSD tainted waters of Pink Floyd and the 13^th Floor Elevators characterized by reverberating tones, quiet drums, and soft vocals. They eventually build it back up, cranking the amp buzz and distortion to build layers of sound to carry the song out on a cascading melody buried in a wooly riff. “Grave Cardinal” similarly spends the middle third of its 22 minutes in mellow psych territory, adding in some organ while exploring the umbra connecting Om and “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun”.

All told, this is an excellent new release and a definite step forward for this band. With doom becoming more and more saturated by the day, Pombagira have really started to define themselves among the cadre of Sleep/Electric Wizard/Sabbath soundalikes. Maleficia Lamiah is an excellent album, heavy and with a ton of depth, that will no doubt appear on the year end lists of many doom fans.

The Electric Wizard- Danzig mash-up is admittedly a little flip. The resemblance is undeniable but the band is more dynamic than the Wizard and they eschew the murky throwback production of Witchcult for something brighter and fuzzier. Moreover, despite vocalist Dorian Bones rather uncanny semblance to Danzig, his voice is a sight more theatrical, more informed by classic doom than punk. It’s a far cry from his work with black n’ roll maniacs Whiskey Ritual and he provides the band a unique voice.

“Leviathan” sets the pace, opening with a big, fuzzy stoner riff and Bones’ warbling vocals, eventually melding and unfolding via a walking Oborn-style wah laden lead. “Ode to Lucifer” continues the steady nodding pace with gut-busting balls of stoner doom fuzz and “Sons of Thelema” follows up with more chugging plod and fuzzed out grooves. By the time they trot out a lead similar to Leviathan’s about a minute in to “Horus Eye” you’ve heard everything they have to offer, the last half follows steadfastly from the first. No matter, Caronte roll on, content to stumble and lumber along in an expertly baked haze. They continue the steady doom pour and trudge on through the conclusion of Ascension’s 54 minutes.

Ascension isn’t very original, but it’s a solid listen. Dorian Bones’ unique vocal warbles and solid riffs (check out the dirty groove about 3:50 in to “Solstice of Blood”) make it easier to stomach what might otherwise be an average release. It’s no bullshit, no surprises stoner doom, for better and for worse. There’s definitely a bit of enjoyment to be had here so fans of Windhand and Pilgrim should give these Italian fellows a listen.

Most of the album moves in that familiar nodding doom plod. “Aurora Atra” shambles along up til they break out a charging up tempo riff in the last half. “God Curse Us” moves about with a similar narcotic lurch that builds and breaks to a similar crescendo. “Masters of Nothing” breaks the doom doldrums in the latter half with a nasty groove that stands as the highlight of the album. After a short instrumental, they return with “Megiddo”, a track whose dynamics echo Electric Wizard’s “I, Witchfinder”. “Breaking the Lore” is the shortest song, coming in at just under five minutes, and gallops along like a mix of St Vitus’ “Angry Man” and Hymns of Blood and Thunderera Gates of Slumber. They close it out with “Den of Serpents”, which is another track of lumbering doom in the vein of “Megiddo”.

Before you know it its 56 minutes later and the album is over. It’s all very by-the-numbers, run-of-the-mill, by-the-book, what have you…  The break in the latter half of Masters of Nothing has a nice swinging groove but despite the nice burly production there’s not much else that catches the ear. It’s not bad and it’s good enough given the proper mood, but doom has become such a saturated genre that bands without a particular creative spark or energy are destined to be subsumed by the blob of bands with similar influences. Witchsorrow are a fundamentally talented bunch, but all God Curse Us leaves me with is a dull impression and a desire to hear them up their game.

Opus Alter is all riffs and grooves, riffs and grooves… They got back on the riff train, relentlessly driving and jamming out riffs, adjusting rhythms through heavier repetition, altering speed and tone, and allow the songs to cascade, progress and unwind in a manner not unlike Opus Primum. Large portions of the songs are taken up by single riffs, as the synths lash about like the twisting arms of a spiral galaxy, and hyper distorted bass drags along. It’s more straightforward, less atmospheric and is an excellent companion to the open spaces of Opus Primum.

Album opener “Oroborous” winds out a single riff over the course of its first 5 minutes that eventually devours itself like the symbolic self-consuming namesake. “Luxon” contuinues by nodding to Opus Primum and tracking earthen doom straight to album centerpiece “Sulphurdew”.  It’s a track that unfurls slowly, opening with some rocky chop and steady snapping snare before pouring it on with ultra distorted bass and synth and punctuating the rhythmic lilt with pounding drum and cymbal crashes. Tumbling, rolling drums give way to a closing riff that slows down and down as it fades in to “Sublime”. The closing duo of “Sublime” and “Deityrant”, two essentially one riff tracks, perfectly convey the Italian trio’s mastery of subtlety, texture, and rhythm.

Between Primum and Alter, Ufomammut have delivered two truly stellar offerings. Oro is also the Italian trio’s crowning musical achievement, melding approaches both old and new. Combined they represent 95 minutes of the most mind-frying, psychosis-inducing music of the year. There aren’t many bands out there that can compare to their consistently excellent output or their uniquely dense and psychedelic style and Oro is further proof of their doomed out dominance.

Ramesess sound is sort of a death/doom take on sludge. They mingle slow doom dirges with crunchy death metal influenced mid-paced riffs. Vocals alternate between deathly growls and cleaner doom vocals as songs shifts from atmospheric psychedelia to stuff that’s closer to death metal. Possessed… is similar to their other output in that regard and don’t stray much from their formula. The problem with Possessed… isn’t the songs, it’s the production. Reminiscent of lo-fi black metal bands like Xasthur, the record sounds tinny and washed-out. At points it becomes quite grating and can cut through your ears like a circular saw. The sound is terribly hollow compared to the meatier, thicker sound and deeper guitar tone of the previous full lengths. Some of the tracks don’t suffer as much as others, but the experience is marred nonetheless.

For example, the slowly developing doom of “Towers of Silence” handles the production well as it collapses in the distance with a nasty Incantation-like death/doom riff. On the other hand, the guitar on “Sol Nocivo” really starts to grind, its repetitive riffing exacerbating the issue. “Plague Beak”, a droner layered with swirling guitar solos and grinding bass grounded by a militant snare, can be painful to get through too. There’s nothing particularly wrong with either track musically, but damn do they suffer the production. Without depth, without an anchor, the cacophony becomes cutting and irritating. So goes the album generally, with the more straightforward tracks coming off better than the repetitious exercises in droning doom.

Possessed by the Rise of Magik ends up a mixed bag of good songs with irritating production. It’s good if you can stomach the grating production or you’re simply a glutton for aural punishment. I kept returning to it, even though it drove me nuts, so that says something for the quality of songs, but it doesn’t bode well for the longevity of the album. If want to hear Greening and co. tear shit down, I’ll spare my ears and reach for Take the Curse or Misanthropic Alchemy.

Oro: Opus Primum is the first part of the band’s most ambitious project yet; a two-part album spread across two discs. While the second half won’t arrive until September, the first half is out and it is an unbelievably crushing ocean of cosmic doom. It’s as hypnotic and expansive as doom gets, with an atmosphere dense as dark matter. The monstrous riffs flow like waves from a supernova lapping at the universe, melding with swirling synths and indecipherable vocals into a mind-frying psychedelic alloy. “Empireum” introduces the musical theme using spritely keys and tumbling drums, building to the nasty grooves of “Aureum” and waves of twisting crush of “Infearnatural”. The theme from “Empireum” returns in “Magickon”, the keys this time building to a full blown riff before melting into closer “Mindomine”.

Ufomammut have developed a mastery of dynamics, rivaled perhaps only by Corrupted and Ocean. Riffs play off each other, build to peaks and crumble to valleys, maximizing their impact and making sure they don’t hang around too long. The last point is perhaps the most important because you’re left wanting more, because let’s face it, there’s nothing worse than a perfectly good riff getting run into the ground through repetition. The lyrics are unintelligible, the vocals bleeding out in a cyclopean warble, and are used like a second layer of synth to accent particular passages, working brilliantly to solidify the mind-warping atmosphere.

Ufomammut have again pushed their craft beyond the outer realms of doom. Rich with atmosphere and packed with riffs, Opus Primum is one of the best doom records released this year. Given headphones, a dark room, and a massive bag of heady psychedelics, this is the kind of shit that will have you traveling the cosmic planes searching for the link that binds you to the One at the center of the universe. See you in space, brothers.

The backbone of the record is the drums and bass, which are now quite clear and big in the mix. With the density lifted the layers are more apparent and the feel a bit more composed. After a lengthy droning intro, “Dreams of Mana Yood Sushai” comes together in two primary movements: the first in rolling tumble and the second in a deliberate plod that leads to a short spacy coda. “Trees, Grass, and Stones” reads more like classic Bong, with slowly developing and shifting drums and bass as the other instruments and vocals fly in the air above. The airy atmosphere is nice change of pace and fits the new aesthetics prominent on the album (note conspicuous lack of an inverted cross in the redesigned logo).

Bong has produced another stellar album of their signature droning doom. The grime is gone, but the quality of the music is as good as it has ever been. If you miss the lo-fi charm of their earlier material, give them a few months. If previous years are any indication, it won’t be long before Bong is back.

As you would expect from the expressed intent of the band, this isn’t another dour, melancholic doom record. “Vallaha” gets things started with a swinging rhythmic gallop and throaty, rasping vocals and “Cannibals of Marrat” follows with more midpaced pummel and some churning sludge. “Fire Rose vampire” is the fastest track and sounds like a crusty confluence of High on Fire’s thrashier moments and Eyehategod-style sludge.

They toss in plenty of slow stuff with two longer tracks that slightly more than half of the record’s runtime. “Gnosis of the Dead” and “Earl Estruch”, move with that familiar slow doom saunter and slow motion sludge groove. “Earl Estruch” sounds like a lost track from the first Lords of Bukkake full length, albeit with deeper, throatier vocals and the atmosphere of toxic urban decay swapped for some old fashioned deathly grime. “Gnosis…” is built on a creeping riff that scales up and down and stays down tempo for the most part.

Tort have come up with something that sounds like High on Fire if they smoked a bong load of sludge from the floor of Autopsy’s morgue. There’s nothing quite like a solid combination of hefty grooves, thrashing gallops and a heavy dose of old fashioned slow as fuck heaviness. Score another win for Totalrust.

Adorned with some killer, toothy artwork Lurk is a self-produced effort of grimy, but groovy down tempo sludge/doom metal, but with a big emphasis on groove. Basically if you took a Gorefest LP (Erase or Soul Survivor) and slowed it down to about ½ speed, you’d have Lurk. This sound is truly cemented by the sense of groove, but hammered home by vocalist K. Koskinen who is for the most part a dead ringer for Gorefest‘s Jan C in both tone and annunciation with his gravelly bellows. I mean just listen to opener “Soar”, second track “Unfinished” or fourth track “Fire the Blood Sky ” if you don’t believe me.

Lurk the album plods along at a pretty consistent slow, loping gait, but carries dense riffs and once again, there’s that word groove. There’s no sudden injections of blasts, black metal, grind or atmospherics (other than a couple of feedback drenched fade outs), just dirty but clear heft and lurching riffs, that along with the above comparison should appeal to fans of Autopsy’s slower moments and maybe Crowbar. The sludge has a slight bluesy/stoner swagger here and there (i.e. “Pitch Beneath Eternity”), and the album refuses to change paths. The overall effect of the album is a nice, slow burner to bang your head slowly to. Lurk even broaches doom realms, slowing things down for the first half of 8-minute closer “Deliverance” and towards the end of “‘Codec of Becoming God”.

The production is nice’n’beefy. My only gripe is the album’s 6-song 36-minute duration — it feels like a long EP and about two songs short of sounding complete, but the time here is still well spent.

A great sludgy start to 2012 for Total Rust Music.