Follow-ups to favorite albums are dangerous, because bands run the risk of letting fans down by either treading water, or making unfavorable and unexpected changes to their music. Well, my worries were quelled by Coffin Wisdom. It sees the band capitalizing on the successful aspects of their sound while taking enough creative steps forward to avoid stagnation. 

The opening track wastes no time, beginning with a rollicking bass riff and then introducing familiar-sounding guitars before congealing into noisy, monolithic, hardcore-tinged sludge. The title track follows with a crunchy riff that sounds like something off of a Trap Them record played at half-speed, and dare I say, a poppy drum beat. The effects-laden guitars also lend an almost alt-metal vibe over the churning sludge. This is a new touch. There’s more noise rock influence overall this time around. 

“Dark Matter” brings the real doom with slowly shifting walls of thick guitars, and vocals buried deep in the mix. “You Deserve This” serves as a sort of intermission and really shows the band’s debt to Neurosis, with its layers of sounds and samples, repetitive militaristic drumbeat, and tortured vocals. 

After a forbidding, ambient intro, “Haunted” strikes an almost Cult of Luna vibe in terms of mass, without the high-reaching atmospherics. “Stolen Voices” conjures up a Jesus Lizard feel, and closer “Crawling on the Ceiling” features infectious tribal drumming and psychedelic guitar work within the sludge. 

In many ways, this is kind of the logical continuation of the previous. Howl and Filth seemed to operate primarily on the foundation of its sheer weight. The vocals were buried deep down and the production had an earthy tone that suggested massive space, and there was more of a focus on slow, deliberate builds. This one is closer up, the vocals more upfront, and more attention given to riffs and song structures. That’s not to say that this one is less atmospheric. You’re still caught in the dark alone, but this time the danger is nearer. Howl and Filth was a massive, lethal storm gathering, but Coffin Wisdom, like the dog illustrated on the cover, is only inches away, and ready to go for your throat.

There is stuff in here from all over the metal map. “Tactical Means of Ouroboros” toys with thick, deathy sludge, and “Contaminate” displays some solid, tight, thrash riffing, mashed up against some dissonance and blackened d-beat. Drummer Justin Ennis, who played with Tombs in their early years, provides the necessary agility behind the kit to support the varied ideas and many changes. This album also features the addition of Ryan Jones (Today Is the Day, Wetnurse) on bass, which may also partially explain the subtle incorporation of other genres. 

But by and large, the backbone is ripping black metal that revels in chaos and dissonance. The band changes the tactics of its assault frequently, but never in a jarring way. Even “Ignus Fatuus,” which starts with a slower, deliberate black metal approach and evolves into twisting dissonance, is well-placed and coherent. The bendy guitars at the end of the final track, “Conspiracy of Silence” call to mind Weakling or Leviathan, and in the same way as those bands, this music manages to hit upon that serious nihilism that many bands, while ostensibly evil, dark, and/or satanic, fail to capture. The mix (by Kevin Bernsten, who also worked on Bastard Sapling’s latest) keeps things from getting too messy, but lets some residual filth convey the proper atmosphere, the perfect approach for this kind of music. 

Mutilation Rites takes influence from only the best and stitches it together into something that is recognizable and accessible to a certain extent but also unique and powerful. This is a must-listen for fans of the new filth along the lines of Bastard Feast. 

True to the meaning of their name, Krieg presents some warlike stomping black metal, but underneath the raw, aggressive sound, melodies surface that lend a melancholy vibe. Most prominent of these is “Walk with Them Unnoticed” which stands out as a midpaced, very melodic, melancholy black metal piece more along the lines of something Totalselfhatred might do. But by and large, the metal here is raw, aggressive, and primal, marked by a deep strain of misanthropy.

There is a lot of variation in tempo, which helps to break things up. “Circling the Drain” features the d-beat but manages not to sound very crusty. “To Speak with Ghosts” begins darkly and mysteriously, leading into a slow, deliberate riff, which gives way to mid-paced black metal along the lines of Urgehal or Craft. The changes work in tandem with the direction of the songs. The blasting of “Atlas with a Broken Arm” gives way to an emotional melodic touch at the very end, and “Time” breaks halfway through into a rollicking triple meter like you’re on a rollercoaster in hell. The yelling and primal drums that alternate with blastbeats in “Winter” are memorable. “Ruin Our Lives” features some subtle electronics – not keyboards, but noises – in its middle section. They continue into “Home,” which is a spoken-word sample and some acoustic guitar, before returning conclusively to blasts in the final track, “Gospel Hand.” The sample in “Home” is kind of a weird inclusion, and stops the momentum. It’s off-putting for me, and may also be for other listeners, but for an album with so few missteps, it’s excusable.

All in all, there’s nothing that new or unusual going on here, but it doesn’t feel like there needs to be. It’s not as violent or bleak as something like Bastard Feast, but it’s pretty powerful in its own right. Where it lacks vitriol, it injects a touch of melancholy. There are different ways to take your nihilism; Krieg expresses it with a sense of mourning for what’s been lost.

I read in an article by written by Jameson that a crazed Judd, in order to get him to try heroine, said that he needed more tragedy in his life. Judging by the music here, Jameson has plenty of inspiration to draw from already. This feels surprisingly fresh, and the many creative flourishes integrate seamlessly. This is a true-to-form work by one of the key longer-running US black metal acts. It demonstrates a focus and restrained creativity that is the mark of a mature band.

The production is raw but full-bodied, providing enough bottom end to balance out the high-end harshness. Everything is cranked to eleven, but the balance lets you hear everything: the raspy vocals, the drums, the bass, and the thick guitars at the forefront.

Opener “Sortedoden” wastes no time getting right to the core of what Solbrud does on this album. It delivers powerful black metal with well-constructed and often soaring melodies, and even a dark sense of triumph. The track ends on something that most bands of this ilk avoid–a major chord!–but in a way that manages to avoid coming off as cheesy or contrived. The following tracks, “Afbed” and “Klippemennesket” shows that there is also a touch more traditional black metal ala Darkthrone going on here than you get from the Cascadians, a welcome nod to the roots of this music. Closer “Ursult” shows the same competence and climaxes in an emotional, deeply melodic fury.

The only drawback is what might come off as a derivative sound. I’m not sure how much Wolves in the Throne Room was a conscious influence, but it may turn listeners off who have been worn out on that. For me, the slight touches of more traditional black and folk-black sounds provide enough of a difference for me.

I’ll admit that I’m a total sucker for this style of black metal, and this came as a most welcome surprise after the recent disappointments from Wolves in the Throne Room. Any listener who digs Cascadian black metal needs this immediately, as does anyone who also enjoys the darker, rawer side of folk-black.

Nachtmystium‘s transformations over the course of its existence are many. 2012’s Silencing Machine was a welcome return to form for many listeners worn out on the progressive explorations of the previous two, Assassins and Addicts. It raged with a fury that had never really been seen from the band, even on its earlier works which exhibited a more suicidal type of melancholy.

Their latest offering dials down the intensity from Silencing Machine several notches. The production is much gentler. The guitars lack the razor-sharp edge of those on Silencing Machine, and the drums lack punch. Overall, everything sounds warmer. This serves to highlight the melodies that are present, like a more progressive sounding Cirith Gorgor or Kvist, but generally lacking in blastbeats. Songs are content to lope along at a mid-paced bob, evoking something of the more thoughtful moments on Instinct: Decay. There are more post-punk melodies integrated, not quite to the extent of Alcest, but enough so that some of the songs might be mistaken for darker indie rock minus the black metal vocals (see “On The Other Side”). There are also several deliberate electronics interspersed, especially on “Into the Endless Abyss” and the title track and “Tear You Down.”

None of it really comes together though, and I can’t put my finger on exactly why. The songs don’t gather much momentum, although it feels like they should. They just don’t. For instance on “Tear You Down,” the song transitions into some glitchy electronic stuff above the guitars before launching into blastbeats, but for some reason it has very little impact. Maybe it’s the production, or maybe it’s because I’ve heard this kind of thing done before, better, so many times. The electronic and effectsy touches on the album don’t sound “progressive,” they sound like something not really desirable thrown in for good measure. And for lack of a better word, the album just sounds tired. The cringeworthy climax of “On The Other Side” which goes, “No more sickness, no more struggle, can’t believe I did this, but today it’s gone!” fails pretty badly.

In the end, this album falls flat for me. It doesn’t have the teeth that Silencing Machine did, and it somehow lacks the dark mystery that permeated Instinct: Decay. The title track especially feels like it could have hit way harder than it does. At this point, I’d put my money on the production as the main culprit here, but who can say?

The other side of the coin is that Nachtmystium has redeemed itself before, and might again. I am disappointed in The World We Left Behind, but I know better than to write off the band entirely on that basis alone.

If you were guessing at this point that Starless Aeon was an album of some sort of lo-fi ritualistic black metal, I’d say it would be a pretty good guess. But what we have here is mid- to slow-paced atmospheric doom/sludge metal with sections of ambient/drone that holds its own as an exemplary album in this obscure genre.

Opener “Coerced Creation” starts things off with heavy drone/doom that reminds me of SunnO))) & Boris‘s “Etna” from Altar, but it is quickly offset by tortured suicidal vocals, all together sounding very much like Moss. The atmospheric sludge at times calls to mind Abandon‘s In Reality We Suffer in that there is a strong sense of emotions behind the riffs, especially on “Beneath the Black Veil” and the aptly named “Depressor.”

This album will likely linger in obscurity for some time. You probably won’t see it on any year-end lists. Given the nature of this release, I think the band would prefer it that way. But even though it seems gimmicky, it doesn’t make much difference either way because the music here is pure quality. Lovers of everything at the dark end of the sludge/doom spectrum should do whatever they can to listen to this.

Post-rock is a fairly easy sell for me, but I’ve been disenchanted with it lately. Much of it seems to ebb and flow with off-putting self-seriousness, and for lack of a better word, it sounds too happy. Sigur Ros (with the exception of last year’s Kveikur), pg.lost, Explosions in the Sky, Ef, and most of the other contemporaries lack that raw edge that made the forefathers Mogwai, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and Slint so powerful. However, Pet Slimmers of the Year takes it in the opposite direction: toward a doomy and melancholic destination rather than the saccharine, ethereal meanderings of so many others.

Neurosis and the ghost of Isis still haunt every attempt to fuse post-rock sensibilities with the heavy sounds of hardcore and metal, and Fragments of Uniforms is no exception. What’s interesting about this album though is that it takes the post-metal sound and creates something very dark with it, not unlike Omega Massif but better written.

Sometimes the Isis worship is so good that it comes close to plagiarism. “Gathering Half Deep and Full” does it so well that at times it sounds like it could be a b-side from Panopticon. I have a hard time getting behind it in terms of integrity. I suppose, if you’re going to imitate, you should imitate the best and do it damn well. And that’s what Pet Slimmers does with a handful of tracks like these. And with other tracks, Pet Slimmers does develop its own distinguishable sound.

Another difficulty I have with post-rock in general that Pet Slimmers overcomes is the lack of vocals as a reference point; they help clue me in to how I should interpret the music. Is a peak in volume a soaring high or a savage, cathartic release?

On the tracks with vocals, Pet Slimmers really pinpoint the emotion they’re going for not only with the instrumental arrangements but also with the vocal work. The spare usage of clean male vocals is probably the most successful touch on this album that sets it apart from other post-rock and metal albums. They really help to bring out that sense of melancholy, and in “Churning of the Sea of Milk,” the emotion reminds me of Katatonia, but in a post rock setting.

The problem is, the clean vocals only appear on three of the tracks. And this is my only major complaint other than the potentially detrimental Isis-worship: the tracks with vocals (especially the aforementioned “Churning…”) stand out too much, potentially overshadowing the others. It’s hard for me to see how the pieces work together as a whole. Since the vocals work as such strong reference points for the listener when they’re present, they take away from the potential impact of the instrumental tracks instead of acting as just another instrument contributing to the overall effect. It becomes one of those situations where a listener who loves the vocals may end up listening primarily to the vocal tracks, while another might throw them out in favor of the instrumentals.

Despite this album’s shortcomings, I love it a lot. I will likely give this some seriously heavy play come October, as it is moody enough to satisfy my tastes while there is nothing objectionable about it for playing in mixed company. There is a lot to be found here even if it doesn’t quite hold up altogether. A must-listen for fans of post-metal, and fans of melancholy rock/metal in general would do well to give this one a shot as well.

This one is even more intense. It rips with the punk-infused blackened intensity of Nails‘ finer moments, or a crustier Ravencult, although the atmosphere is thicker than either of those bands, and the vocals far more tortured. There are some dissonant, sludgy touches that call to mind Coffinworm (see especially “The Serpent Spoke”). “Noose of Smoke” has some of the dissonant fury of Deathspell Omega. “A Tribute to What We Stole” features a ridiculously thick, dirty variation on the d-beat, which comes more to the fore in the next track, “Watchful Defiler.” There is also a perverse death metal feel to some of the tracks, such as “Claustrophobic of this World,” along the lines of Antediluvian and Vasaeleth.

There are no stand-out tracks; each one has something unique to offer, and compliments the whole of the album. Only 10-minute closer “Synthetic Messiah” stands apart as an almost funerary doom piece, a contrast to the chaos and unbridled fury of the previous tracks. It acts as a fitting come-down, dragging the album to an end in a black pit of misanthropy, slowly hammering the last nail in the unholy coffin.

This is hands down a year-end contender for me. I was hoping for this sort of thing from the new Trap Them and was disappointed, but this one fits the bill and then some. It’s utterly filthy, bleak, and unrelenting. There have been a lot of strong releases this year, but nothing has quite grabbed me like this one. And by grabbed, I mean beaten me senseless into blind submission and terror.

Opener “Salted Crypts” starts things off in familiar territory. After a noisy, dissonant opening, the band launches into its usual grind-flavored crust attack. “Lungrunners” and “Former Linings Wide the Walls” also serve as identifiable reference points grounding this album in the band’s clear crust lineage. The later tracks reveal that Trap Them has stepped up both the influences of death metal and black metal. The guitar tone has that trademark Swedish buzzsaw sound, and many of the cuts come off sounding like Dismember by way of Rotten Sound.

The band finds the most success when it lets the fat buzzing tone do its own talking, as on the slower latter half of “Habitland” and the seething, 7-minute “Savage Climbers.” “Let Fall Each and Every Sedition Symptom” strikes that same mid-paced groove that lets you really feel the burn of that tone.

“Gift and Gift Unsteady” is an anthemic, blackened tune, although it becomes annoying in its repetition. Others of the blackened tunes are more successful. “Sanitations” is probably the best of these. “Organic Infernal” is like the crust-punk answer to Urgehal. “Ransom Risen,” with its atmospheric use of vocals and trade-off between clean guitars and heavy blackened doom, evokes the same feel, serving as a claustrophobic intro to the aforementioned “…Sedition Symptom.” The production is cleaner this time around, and overall, it does the band a disservice. For crust, the dirtier, filthier, and gnarlier the production, the better.

This cleaner production often highlights how un-technical the band is (especially on “Gift and Gift Unsteady”) and robs many songs of the impact they might otherwise have had. This album isn’t a step backward, as Trap Them is trying out new sounds and musical ideas, but it isn’t a step forward either. It’s a solid record in its own right, but fans of the band–and of crust in general–could be disappointed with this album, as I was. Darker Handcraft cast quite a large shadow, and Blissfucker doesn’t quite stand clear of it.

“Gold Above Me” serves as an intro featuring Eastern-tinged technical riffs and drumming straight out of the Nile/Behemoth playbook. The first proper track, “Morsel,” delivers Wretched‘s familiar sound, although musically it is very refined. There is a heavy Gorod vibe in the melodic sensibility of the track, and also a death/thrash element that calls to mind The Absence or Black Dahlia Murder.

Like all good tech-death bands, Wretched knows when to slow down. For example, the first half of “Thin Skinned” reigns in the speed, then continues with perfectly rendered dual guitar harmonies reminiscent of the best work of Vital Remains.

“Cranial Infestation,” one of my favorite tracks, strikes an absolutely infectious Gorod-like groove, and again features a very melodic bridge section. Instrumental “Cannibal” is a true stand-out: a mammoth, 7-and-a-half-minute groove-laden melodic powerhouse, with the free-flowing song structure of Iron Thrones coupled with the mind-bending but melodic riffs of Anata.

Despite the quality present on Cannibal, it’s an unfortunate fact that many other bands have been doing this exact thing as well or better for some time; Gorod in particular for damn near a decade now. Wretched isn’t bringing much new to the table, but it’s refreshing to hear technical songs that have a healthy sense of melody, and make creative choices that work. Along with Soreption, this release has helped renew my faith and interest in technical death metal. This is an album of undeniable quality, but time will tell the extent and longevity of its impact.

The band’s previous output consisted of a dark variation on thick, crusty sludge, similar to Germany’s excellent Planks. Even though their past work might easily be characterized as “blackened Neurosis,” there was always a little more to them than that. “Merrimack” from the debut was tragic-heavy in the way of Jesu. But Savage Gold sees some significant changes to the band’s sound.

Tombs has dialed up the black metal on this release, but at the same time become more straightforward. At turns sounding like a less-evil Watain, and at others a less-frosty Wolves in the Throne Room (especially on “Portraits”), this element is balanced with the sturdy backbone of the dark crust/sludge that was a foundational part of their core sound from the beginning. But this is no back-and-forth compare-and-contrast affair; these elements combine seamlessly. There is also much more intentional melody, as in the second track, “Séance.” The production receives a significant boost from previous efforts thanks to Erik Rutan. The drums especially are right up front, and every instrument is clear and well-articulated. Although it’s identifiable as the same band, this album sounds quite different from its previous output.

The most interesting thing about this album, though, is the undercurrent of post-punk that shows up every so often. It’s present in the melodies of “Portraits,” but features more prominently in other tracks. The half-spoken, half-chanted “Deathtripper” is reminiscent of Swans in its repetition, until four and a half minutes in when it breaks into a brooding, mid-paced blackened barrage. This track is an example of the band’s absolutely stellar songwriting. It leads right into “Edge of Darkness,” perhaps the most aggressive black metal ripper present. The intense buildup and furious, cathartic final moments are among the best on the album.

The fury continues through the next two tracks until the downbeat, gothic “Severed Lives,” that, like “Deathtripper,” is trance-inducingly repetitious. Its counterintuitive melodies and dissonances are perhaps even more unnerving than the black metal that adorns the tracks surrounding it. These kinds of unexpected, show-stopping moments of transcendence show how much Tombs has grown.

Closer “Spiral” returns to the black metal assault. Parts of it sound hopeful, as if building to some sort of triumph; but just when the resolution is in sight, jarring sludge riffs interrupt like alarms. The rude awakenings are troublesome, but in perfect keeping with the rest of the album. “Spiral” gives conclusion, but not resolution. Anything else would be a contrivance.

Tombs has really come into a sound of its own, gotten the production to match, and successfully honed its songwriting to make seemingly oppositional musical ideas work in harmony rather than in competition. Savage Gold is an astonishing work taken as a whole, due in part to the pervasiveness of a dark, twisted gloom cast over its entirety. This is a beautiful, dark, and brutal album, the exemplary consummation of a unique vision.

After a completely unnecessary intro track of some hissing noise, “Genesis of Void” opens with an almost industrial-sounding churn and somewhat technical riffing, leading into a sparse breakdown. The production is clean, but not totally lacking in reverb, which keeps things from sounding too polished. The guitars are thick, and the more deathy parts of the song are pretty sonically punishing. The sense of groove that carries through a series of breakdown rhythms at the end of the song demonstrates that Deep in Hate is a welcome departure from run-of-the-mill deathcore.

The subsequent track, “The Cattle Procession,” actually elicited the stink face and the savage head bob as I listened to it for the first time. It strikes the perfect balance of predictability while providing unexpected twists and headbanging groove. The chugging breakdowns are balanced with dark, off-kilter melodies. It’s like a deathcore version of “Spheres of Madness.”

The only fault worth mentioning is that Deep in Hate is sometimes too controlled; seldom do the songs fly off the handle the way they could, or should. The most technical moment on this album, the noodling toward the end of “The Divide,” seems more or less by-the-numbers, not the catastrophic maelstrom that it might have been. This is a common problem with technical metal though, that technicality weakens the impact of the music rather than enhancing it.

But there are many moments that explode with kinetic energy to more than make up for that shortcoming. And Deep in Hate is not overly technical. The band favors the machine-like dual attack of the razor-sharp guitars and in-your-face kick drum in controlled bursts, not rapid fire. By and large, the technical flourishes serve an overall purpose, providing context and buildup to the breakdowns. The frenzied attack that intensifies one minute into “Altars of Lies,” and the blasting of “The Unheard Prayers” speak to the potential that this band has to unleash some serious devastation. The music has the same machine-like drive and sense of groove of Decapitated, and some of the breakdowns bear the weightiness of The Acacia Strain‘s finer moments. Relentless closer “Beyond” brings things to a slow, devastating end with a touch of tragic melody.

With this album, Deep in Hate has proven itself a formidable unit. As one who is hesitant about anything brandishing the ‘core label, I found this to be an immensely enjoyable slab of modern metal. This is how it’s done. Chalk up another victory to the French metal scene.

After a misleading burst of furious black metal, opener “Hugo Suits” delivers what will be the band’s main sound, a curious industrial style of hardcore. There is a heavy Neurosis vibe, especially in the vocals, and some of the slower passages bear a similar weight and claustrophobic dissonance. The riffs are complemented by some Genghis Tron type synths. The breakdown 3 minutes into the opener reveals the quality of this band; breakdowns are commonplace, but this one punishes. It doesn’t overstay its welcome, and the variety of speeds serve well to hold the listener’s interest.

“Hermetic Party” continues with the Neurosis influence, sounding particularly like Enemy of the Sun or Through Silver in Blood. “Feed the Swamp” pounds out a Meshuggah-like riff underneath electronic squeals before returning the band’s signature sound. A slight progressive/black element finds its way into the more technical noodling of “I’d Rather Have You Dead Than Pregnant.” This blend is really where Mur carves out a unique sound, avoiding clone status.

The synth sounds complement the riffs surprisingly well, for example, especially at the beginning of “Dominance.” The scant ambient touches only serve to connect the songs; they don’t draw attention to themselves. Some of the songs have an industrial feel, but it never becomes repetitive or machine-like in the way of Godflesh. The hardcore ethic is strongly evident on this release. The music is dense; there is not one wasted moment.

For those who prefer sludge that leans toward the more abrasive, aggressive side of Neurosis, this EP is a tasty morsel of nostalgia. At this point, the Neurosis influence colors the experience a little too heavily, but there is some true quality here. The songs are well written, engaging, and show lots of promise. It’s also a welcome change to listen to a band rooted more in the oft-neglected hardcore side of the genre, rather than aping the atmospheric/post-metal thing that’s been done to death.

Looking forward to hearing more.

Opener “Phase6” beings quietly, and then transitions into pummeling deathcore, a watered-down version of Carnifex or the like that will resurface frequently over the course of the album. “Phase 6” runs the gamut from deathcore to blasting death metal to into black metal, building the intensity. So far, so good. But then the song quiets again with a section of softly plucked guitar behind some glitchy drum noises that’s basically just boring. The track builds again into a brutal slam death metal breakdown (featuring more brutal vocals than before) and then finishes with a blast of black metal. When I listened to this for the first time, I was on board for the first few minutes of this track, but by the time it finished at almost 12 minutes long, I had lost interest.

But for the sake of journalism, I pressed on.

The following track, “Resurrection,” begins with a blackened groove, followed by a ho-hum slow arpeggio, and then a quiet, ambient section and then back to the deathcore, as directionless as the first. This track also features clean vocals, the downfall of many a mediocre band. Psygnosis’ haphazard genre-switching is already downfall enough, but these clean vocals don’t help. Toward the end, a repetitive, Meshuggah-like groove with weird synth noises floating above it actually works, because it goes on long enough that it allows the listener some sense of cohesion. The mid-section of “Lost in Oblivion,” with its nod to post-metal, is also a moment of success, but it’s short-lived as it leads to yet another deathcore chugging section.

The French spoken-word interlude of “Lost in Oblivion” (yes, they have the requisite French spoken-word section) contrasts uncomfortably with the English-language sample from Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator in the next track, “SiBnt.” Following that, “SiBnt pt2” provides a short selection of beautiful cello and acoustic guitar. Because, what better to relieve the tension of a lengthy sample from a 1940 film about the value of freedom and equality?

Continuing on, “Drowning” is probably the strongest track present. It sustains some cohesive extreme metal, interrupted every so often by quiet synths and glitches. It has a clear industrial backbone and the sections flow more easily into each other for the most part than the initial tracks. It’s like a more death-metal Sybreed with a wildly progressive bent, especially toward the end before it lapses back into deathcore. Closer “Hurricane” is similarly more cohesive, and despite the distracting clean vocals and array of samples, manages to generate a palpable atmosphere. There are a lot of things going on, but it lacks the jarring transitions of the previous tracks.

If you are a fan of all of the genres of metal that I’ve mentioned and don’t mind shuffle mode, this album might be for you. The almost channel-changing feeling of some of the tracks as they jump from section to section is pretty jarring. Psygnosis really don’t have the songwriting chops to tie their diverse influences together into a cogent whole. Their music is a nonsensical mosaic that might benefit from some time in a melting pot.

They’re proficient at what they do, but only proficient – jacks of all trades, masters of none. If Psygnosis can manage to channel their technical ability into more cohesive song structures like the last two tracks and ditch the ‘core elements entirely, they may be on to something.

The album opens with the toll of bells, commencing of the funeral of hope. The strongest standout feature is the vocals, which provide standard hardcore yells, some gang shouts, but also beautifully layered, textured harmonies. Mare did this sort of thing too, but The Mire handles it so much better. Over the course of the album, this becomes a trademark, but The Mire is more than a one-trick pony. The band provides a solid mixture of post-hardcore/sludge that pays tribute to Isis and Neurosis without coming off as contrived, with some subtle mathy/progressive precision and syncopation, reminiscent of early Intronaut or (vaguely) Meshuggah.

The album splits neatly into two parts. Halfway through, the title track provides a quiet, still center around which the album turns. Not since Ulver‘s “Eos” have I heard a band evoke such power with simplicity. The softly melding chords and the repetitious use of simile–comparing hopes, dreams, the world, and your heart, all in turn, to a glass cathedral–is meditative and heartbreaking, a truly luminous moment.

The album steps resignedly back into the barrage of doom. Broken by the weight of these desolate revelations, the band churns out a final trio of dirges. There is more than just heaviness going on here. This is tragedy: the desolate end to a fruitless search for redemption.

In a year that’s sure to be dominated at least in part by powerful sludge releases (Lord Mantis, Coffinworm, and Thou to name a few), this album makes it easy to root for the little guy. This release should spell the end of The Mire‘s status as an unsigned and relatively unknown band. A rare and phenomenal album.

Album opener “Today Will Die Tomorrow” starts things off on a very Pelican-sounding post-rock note, but it turns out to be a false start. While this track displays the calming beauty of the more meditative post-rock/metal bands, this album makes a turn to the more abrasive side of sludge metal with a very dark, atmospheric sound. Six minutes into the same track, the guitars merge into a solid, heavy sludge riff that leans more to the Neurosis side of the genre. “Oppression” continues in this heavier vein, with a heavy, melancholy riff accompanied by hollering that calls to mind the heavier moments of early Giant Squid.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFvww8Mqe_w&feature=share&list=PLP_MxM2fmvW8TJkMHac71fcAPfDFVRof8

At this point in the album, I was worried that this was another tired, faceless post-metal rehash, but “Archetypal Attraction to Circular Things” is where some interesting, creative touches really go down. The murky, effectsy bass lays the groundwork for a psychedelic groove garnished by some processed female vocals that sets them apart from their contemporaries. A heavy, emotionally resonant riff follows, first accompanied by the raw vocals and then by a melodic guitar line laid over it. This is familiar ground, but it is played with sincerity and integrity.

“Archetypal Attraction to Circular Things” provides an ambient break laced with some acoustic guitar, “We Crave What We Lack” is pure Isis worship, but the reverby vocals have an almost black metal feel to them. The female vocals return at the end here, increasing the sense of otherworldly atmosphere.

“Charikleia’s Intermission” plays on some dissonant riffs that increase the listener’s feeling of claustrophobia before leading into the final two tracks. “K.” unleashes more sinister aggression than yet heard, and “Humanity is False” presents the best riff on the album, almost Electric Wizard-caliber stoner metal, but played through the band’s own raw intensity. The rough production and vocals add to the dark energy of the high points throughout the song’s 12 minutes of loud-quiet-loud contrasts.

For those who haven’t worn themselves out on the post-metal genre, this album is definitely worth a look. It strikes a good balance being familiar but not overly so, offering raw, palpable energy and a few creative flourishes you won’t find elsewhere.

Erlen Meyer play a heavy, dissonant brand of sludgy post-hardcore in the vein of Overmars and later-era Breach, a style of music perfectly suited to their rage. An atmosphere of unrest and darkness hangs like a fog throughout the album and provides the necessary context for the powerful dirges. The vocals are of the mid-range hardcore bark variety, although there are several spoken-interlude sections (all in French, again reminiscent of Overmars) and they sometimes reach into higher-pitched black metal shrieks, as at the fantastic end of “Agatha.” The throaty yells are full of passion and perfectly reflect the band’s intensity.

The mid-paced sludge riffs get a little samey after a while, but what they lack in variety they make up for in passion. A couple of short instrumental tracks also help break up the monotony somewhat, providing brief intermissions between the lengthy compositions.

This is a surprisingly emotional, dark work, fraught with genuine anger that does not let up throughout its duration. I haven’t heard their previous recordings from 2005-6, but I would be interested to see what Erlen Meyer come up with in the future, even if they aren’t able to recapture the same raw power that this record emanates.

Although heavily technical, Soreption fuses their convoluted riffs onto robust grooves. The colossal “The Nature of Blight” alternates between divisions of the beat but doesn’t deviate from the basic groove. There are plenty of on-a-dime time-signature changes and unexpected surprises; “Breaking the Great Narcissist” goes through at least four mind-bending changes in the first two minutes, and dissolves very suddenly into a synth heavy break at the three-and-a-half mark. But Soreption are at their best when they let the groove drive through one riff right into the next, as in “Utopia” and “I Am You.”

There are a handful of cheesy, synthesized faux-orchestral breaks, as in “Breaking the Great Narcissist” and others, that detract from the momentum of the songs. On Deterioration of Minds’ “March of the Tyrants,” the synths morphed into a kind of updated “Suffer in Truth” chug, but here they don’t interact with the rest of the material in quite the same way. Even on Deterioration of Minds they seemed out of place. Soreption would be better off ditching it altogether and letting their technical blitzkrieg speak for itself.

That minor complaint aside, this is a tasty slab of the best kind of technical death metal. And at 35 minutes, it’s enough to give you the full effect but not leave you overwhelmed. This would probably be a killer act to see live too, if and when they come stateside.

I can’t figure out if Cleanteeth is serious about what they do. The opening track is actually a very good sludge/doom track that brings some serious heavy. But its title is “Blame Canada,” which, if I remember correctly, was a fresh idea in 1999. The only time I actually laughed was on “Shitbreather” when the vocalist shouts, “You’re covered in bacteria!” which sounds like an insult, although in the final analysis it is true of everyone and everything on the planet earth. Unfortunately, that was the only time I was amused. The silly song titles like “French Kissing Alexander Hamilton” and “Sexual Moustache” are gimmicky, and no other moments stood out as particularly funny.

Musically, their success is equally scattershot. Although there are some legitimately heavy moments, as in “Blame Canada,” many of the riffs chug around aimlessly with low-end power chords, giving off an unfavorable whiff of nu-metal. Haphazard ambient and glitchy tracks add nothing to the atmosphere or the overall effect of the album. Nothing goes together, so that the whole thing ends up sounding like wasted space, and left me wondering what the point was.

Metal is often labeled as stupid music for meatheads. All stereotypes have root in certain truths that may or may not represent the majority of cases, and certainly a lot of metal lacks a certain amount of intelligence and is intended for people who also lack it. It’s always nice to see musicians not taking themselves seriously (Lord knows that’s a rarity) but the ambiguous tag, “beard impregnating doom metal,” is representative of the lack of intelligence and coherence displayed on this record. It indicates a group of musicians who, despite having mastery over their instruments and production, don’t have “it.” Metal is an essence, and no amount of bludgeoning sound and buzz-word genre tagging can make up for its absence.

7-minute opener “Against the Grain” gives the listener a good idea of what to expect, with shades of mid-era Opeth and the progressive melodic death of Iron Thrones. Keyboards lend depth to the sound and the clean vocals layer with textured harmonies. Sindre Nedland’s clean vocals are a major selling point to this album; they are clear and powerful without becoming overly theatrical or cheesy. Those acquainted with Solefald will already be familiar with his vocal talents.

The second track and a real standout, “Image of Time,” tightens things up and utilizes a more standard pop structure very effectively, beginning with some heavy, melancholy Insomnium-type riffage and harsh vocals before a clean bridge with vocals somewhere between Mikael Akerfeldt and I.C.S. Vortex’s clean vocal work in Dimmu Borgir. The chorus has some scratchier vocals and a melodic tremolo riff that reminds me of the folk-oriented black metal of Catamenia.

Following that, “Southern Shores” is an instrumental track that sounds straight off of Still Life. “Hymne til Havet” dials up the folk influences in what sounds like a metallic arrangement of a traditional Norwegian song and features a classic-sounding solo.

As is a common pitfall, the album presents its best songs first, leading to less engaging material. While not a bad track by any means, the 8-minute mid-paced and repetitive “Culmination of the Enigma” falls flat after the interest and diversity offered by the first four tracks. “Times of Yore” is heavier and focuses more on the band’s black metal influence, but also lacks the dynamic presence of the earlier tracks, with the exception of the absolutely blazing solo 3 and a half minutes in. These tracks require more patience and a different mindset – one that is not cultivated for the listener early on – undermining what might otherwise have been more rewarding.

The album doesn’t return to form until the penultimate “To the Core,” one of the heaviest tracks, featuring the clean vocals in the forefront during the latter half. The album’s indulgence comes to a conclusion in the 9-minute closer “Floating on the Murmuring Tide,” a truly epic song featuring a monolithic melancholy riff, an acoustic break and…yes…a saxophone solo, but one that works.

At the end of the day, I’m unsure where I come down on this album. The fantastic vocals, complex layering and superb song writing are all there in spades, but the shift at “Culmination of the Enigma” makes for an off-balance album. There are so many ideas here that Ænigma kind of collapses under its own weight. It’s 57 minutes long, and feels even longer. If In Vain could have reigned themselves in a little and made some judicious cuts, they would have had a true, unqualified winner.

The thing this album has in spades is groove. Shit tons of groove. Once a song finds its pace, often right at the beginning, there is no letting up. The drums set the pace and the guitars move from one lurching riff to another. The riffs are solid, reminiscent at times of Zozobra, and at others jumbling together with the drums into the rolling, pummeling sound of Mosquito Control-era Isis. A healthy dose of crustiness hearkens back to the genre’s crossover roots. The oppressive atmosphere brought about by dissonance, similar to fellow Frenchmen Overmars, permeates many of the tracks.

Although the music is principally sludge, it is steeped in black metal. The Deathspell Omega comparison is a popular one to throw around, but it shows up here in some of the plucked, dissonant riffs of the opening two songs.  The black influence finds its way even deeper into the songs on the latter half of the album, as in the dark winding riff of “Slave/Her” (featuring a guest appearance from Marion of the aforementioned Overmars), finally erupting full-force with blastbeats and tremolo guitars of the final, titular track. The production is on the raw side, but not particularly lacking in bottom end, especially considering that there is no bass being played. It sounds almost live at times, which adds to the energy of the songs.

There are a handful of bands now playing a dark, crusty variation on hardcore/sludge. Carne’s offering is fueled by unrelenting grooves and raw aggression. In the end, Ville Morgue is an excellent album. Highly recommended.

Shelter is the much-anticipated Alcest album that completely does away with the black metal element of their sound. What we’re left with is a well-produced post-rock/shoegaze/bliss-pop that is at times reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine, Sigur Ros, and Smashing Pumpkins. It is what it is. A part of me enjoys this a lot, another part of me really misses the black metal counterpoint to their sound, and another part of me dismisses it as fluff.

But let’s back up a minute. Once upon a time, black metal was a scary underground movement of scary music for scary people – and that’s it. There was no legitimizing, and no half-hearted hipster scene-following. If you knew about it, you were either a part of it, or it kind of scared you and you stayed away from it. Eventually, the movement grew, and became even scarier with U.S. bands like Leviathan taking the music to the absolute pit of ugliness and Weakling turning black metal’s misanthropy toward the self, while French bands Antaeus, Blut Aus Nord, bands of Les Legions Noires and others churned out brutal, twisted abominations of sound. It was around the mid 2000s when recordings with the “blackgaze” sound first started to appear, not the least of which was Alcest’s own Le Secret. Although a minor aberration at first, this deviation caught hold and exploded within the scene.

The reason I mention this is because context is important when listening to Alcest’s music. I have no problem with what Alcest is doing. What I have a problem with is people not understanding the context of this music. Alcest’s music comes out of a scene with its roots deep in ugliness and evil. Understanding what black metal as a movement had to go through to get where it is now gives Alcest’s music the weight it needs to truly appreciate what’s being done here. Maybe I’m reading into it all too heavily, but I believe that Alcest, among others, represents the redemption of black metal.

Alcest’s story is that of so many people, myself included, that it’s impossible for me to take this album out of context of the narrative. It’s the story of emerging from whatever trials you might be dealing with – addictions, rage, broken relationships, whatever it might be – into a moment of peace that comes with maturity. It doesn’t ignore the past, and it doesn’t last for long, but it brings a sense of reconciliation with a new, broader framework.

This music is an honest and sincere attempt to create that bittersweet, yearning sense of momentary reconciliation, although unfortunately, the album has more than its share of missteps. Without the black metal arrangements to lend power to the music, the climax of “Voix Sereines” falls flat. “L’Eveil des Muses” never consummates its moody buildup. Neil Halstead’s (Slowdive) vocals on “Away” are distractingly weak.

It’s “Delivrance” that legitimizes this thing for me. When I first heard it, I thought to myself, I’m glad somebody is making music like this, because it pinpoints that particular feeling that I’ve felt so often in my life. Yes, it’s indulgent in its repetition, and the production is perhaps too crystalline, but it’s so honest and somehow true that I can’t help but let it be what it is. The context from which this album emerges and the sincerity of the emotions expressed justify it for me. And what’s more, my wife liked it. And there’s a time and a place for that too.

It’s okay. The darkness is real, but so is the light. And it’s good and right to move toward the light, even if imperfectly so – even if it’s a little bit cheesy.

For a two-disc album, “Animale(s)” features amazingly consistent songwriting quality. The riffs play with unnerving dissonance and chromatics amid pummeling kick drums. There are a handful of tremolo riffs and blastbeats thrown in, but the band does not dwell on them for long. Instrumental track “(X)” focuses on a slower dirge that builds with ferocious intensity into a faster-paced blackened climax. The chugging pseudo-breakdown at three minutes into “Dans ta salive, sur sa peau” turns into a repetitive meditation as secondary guitars play the tritone above. The opening track on the second disc, “D’errances en inimities,” features dissonant, sinister riffs played with the blackened-death sensibility of Arkhon Infaustus. The use of contrasts creates an atmosphere of uncertainty and dread. Celeste is a band in pursuit of a clear vision.

Another remarkable thing about this album is that there is no filler. There are no ballads, no extended ambient tracks. Celeste delivers a full two discs of their particular brand of terror without compromise. The instrumental tracks are just as focused and intense as the standard tracks with vocals. One album’s worth of this stuff would be lethal, but two discs of music at this level with consistent intensity and quality is mind-blowing. The one exception to the intensity might be the subdued outro on the second disc, which doesn’t alleviate the tension so much as merely draw the curtains on the whole disturbing affair.

Fans of black metal that focuses not on speed but on darkness and brutality will ravenously devour both discs of this filthy stuff. All others, take warning: there is no respite from the relentless advance. Celeste has crafted their death-infused blackened hardcore into a devastating, two-album musical assault on body and soul.

Well, I’ll do it anyway, with that caveat. There is a clear crust influence (the band shares a member with Martyrdöd, also on Southern Lord, which pretty much holds the patent on this kind of sound), but it doesn’t dominate their music, nor does it limit the progression of the songs. If you took crust as a starting point and expanded the songwriting with the melody of Insomnium into the progressive songwriting territory of Opeth or Disillusion’s Back to Times of Splendor by way of the dark sludge of Withered’s Memento Mori, you might be close. Parts of this remind me of older metalcore; the piano intro and melodic riffs in “Hunted” is reminiscent of Darkest Hour’s So Sedated, So Secure. There also seems to be some Ludicra-like black influence in there somewhere. But all of these comparisons are mere approximations to their sound.

The thing that makes this album a true standout is the songwriting. All but one of the five tracks are longer than 10 minutes, but the album never loses momentum–quite a feat, and Agrimonia pulls it off with surprising songwriting agility. Despite the slurry of influences, all of the ideas string together seamlessly, creating some truly memorable moments. For instance, the awesome half-time tremolo riff at 3:40 in “While Life Lies” is perfectly placed. The album maintains its momentum right down to the last track’s final melodic riff that devolves into acoustic guitars, ending the album on a sublime note.

The not-too-polished, bottom-heavy production with just the right amount of reverb provides the necessary heft. The guitars are crunchy and deliver riff after tasty riff. The raspy female vocals are reminiscent of Light This City in delivery – raw, sexless, and intense. The bass is more felt than heard, especially at the fantastic doomy opening of “Where Life Lies.” The drums back everything up and tie it together into one unit.

I’m not sure what to call this album other than Metal with a capital M, and I’m not sure what else to say about it, other than to recommend it wholeheartedly to any fans of said genre.

Tocsin exhibits several fundamental and compelling changes in the band’s sound. As on Ausserwelt, the raw sludge aggression of the first album is almost completely gone. Ausserwelt also featured more doom-oriented riffs as opposed to its predecessor, which was all sludge. The change is a subtle one, but important, and it continues on Tocsin to the point that the sludge influence is very much in the background when it’s even present at all. The riffs are thick, monolithic, and dark. The dirty, overdriven production suggests what physical damage these sounds might inflict on whatever space they’re played in, with less consideration given to the ability to distinguish between each instrument, note, or drum hit. The reverb-soaked drums contribute to a more doomy feel by the suggestion of cavernous space. The distortion, in addition to what I think is a first-time-ever use of blast beats, blackens things up as well.

Song-for-song, Tocsin does not start off on the most compelling note. The first two tracks, while passable, seem to be more exercises in repetition and don’t come off as particularly emotional or atmospheric. Opener “Tocsin” sets the stage well with its slow pace and heavy riffs, but at almost 14 minutes it outstays its welcome, the length and repetition doing more harm than good. However, the third track, “Désolation,” beginning with melancholy horns, builds with stunning emotional resonance through its first half. Then the guitars strike a sinister, fuzzed-out pedal tone, other guitars chiming in as it builds and slows to a final, crushing death knell–very desolate indeed. The subsequent tracks are equally strong. Post-rock builds resembling Godspeed You! Black Emperor shimmer with cold, bleak tremolo guitars. Krautrock-inspired drumming and eastern-sounding melodies contribute an occult vibe to the last two songs. The climax of the final track “Alamüt” wreaks a similar havoc to Cult of Luna’s burliest moments, and the release is absolutely cathartic, ending the album on a devastating note. The guitars, again in melodic minor, rise and fall, spiraling around each other, and the album dies in quiet distortion.

There is an array of new sounds on this album, and taken as a whole, its impact is considerable. Year of No Light’s bleakest work to date is a crusty, blackened slab of sludge-doom that shows a group of seasoned musicians experimenting successfully with new, blacker sounds and ideas.