There comes a time in every critic’s life when they’re torn on an album whereby on the one hand you have a good, compelling album with cool moments, but then there’s the feeling that it’s boring as watching flies fuck, and so you (as the critic) must be diplomatic.

A few listens later…

Well, it all starts with “Divinity”, a nice instrumental track that erupts into “A Red Dawn”, and it’s got a pretty good chug to it, kicking off with a sick roar that brings the brutality out. It’s not overly brutal as in say… It’s not Dying Fetus or anything like that. More like a Green Carnation meets Opeth meets later on Amorphis. That doesn’t make sense. Too fucking bad, this is sort of a choose-your-own-adventure album.

“Servant to the Sun” has this slow-burning sense of urgency, the melody kind of echoing Tales From The Thousand Lakes; while the following “Prophecy” brings in some gravitas in the form of another chill instrumental track.

“Visions of a Crimson Moon” comes lurching forward and brings another roar to open the album. This one has more of a staccato riffing that makes it sound a bit progressive. This could have been a thrashing track, but that would be like putting a Polka song on a Mayhem album. I can picture a lot of crab walking going on around the midsection point where they get extra heavy.

The title track is like watching paint dry, however. It drags you along while being as dull as can be. This is that torn feeling I talked about earlier. I don’t like this song, but it doesn’t tarnish the album any more than “Meant to Be” did on the latest Testament album.

“Omen” has a cool intro riff but falls into mediocrity pretty damn quick. “Field of Reeds” is yet another instrumental that meanders like a drunk on the way home. It’s a pretty tune, but it’s a whatever track at the end of the day.

There’s probably a reason why I don’t usually review albums like this because, ultimately, it’s been done before and by better bands. Not saying that Black Sea of Trees is slouching on their instruments because they’re certainly not, but I think I wanted more than what I got with Cult of the Sun.

“Eclipse” and “The Dark Distance” round out the album, and I can’t really say it’s with a bang. I wanted to like Cult of the Sun, but alas, I don’t.

Having said that, if you do happen to like this sort of thing and you love the new sound of Opeth, then maybe this is for you. So, follow your heart and pick this up… if you want.

But then, I sorta went off it, much like many genres that experience rapid growth, it became stale, saturated, overidden by clones, and the forebearers changed thier sound a bit. I can safely say the last band in the style I truly enjoyed was the UK’s Lightbearer.

This brings me to another UK (Scotland) post-metal act, Void of Light, and their debut, Asymmetries, an album I grabbed to see if the genre interest could be reignited after some time away.

5 songs, 48 minutes, and all the hallmarks of the genre’s classics are here in spades; sumptuous yet atmospheric builds, big, shimmery, emotive riffs, crumbling crescendos of mountainous heft and pained bellows and screams, with introspective moments, and croons/whispers. It’s all here and well done as the opening duo of “The Passing Hours” and “Silver Mask” and lumbering but suitably climactic closer “Mirrorings” demonstrates admirably.

A couple of more urgent, almost blacker metal explosions inject a little pacing here and there, such as “Ends”, and otherwise more controlled “Still The Night Skies”.

Asymmetries hasn’t completely reinvigorated my love of the genre, but it has at least had me searching for some newer bands in the style as well as revisiting the classic bands mentioned above, too.

Instead of symphonic metal, we have post-black metal with a variety of elements. If you’re into Cult of Luna, specifically Mariner, the album with Julie Christmas, then you’re close, but it’s not that simple. Take, for instance, “I, the Deceit,” which features Sakis Tolis of Rotting Christ. Vocalist Dimitra Kalavrezou starts the track with almost quiet whispers before Sakis’ vocals take over. In that moment, the song also gets heavier with the drum performance of Christian Eggers standing out, only to get quiet when Dimitra’s vocals take back over, and Sakis is relegated to the background. It’s a moody number, which transitions effortlessly from warmth to suffocation.

I skipped far ahead, getting the Rotting Christ comparison out of the way first. As far as openers go, though, one can’t do much better than “Die Auslӧschung.” It begins slowly with haunting vocals in nearly a whisper until slightly after the one-minute mark, when it stops, then the blasting takes over, pulling from the Hellenic Black Metal school. Save for a few moments of chaos, the song is slow moving but sets you up for what’s to come.

As you may know from previously reading other reviews of mine, I enjoy highlighting the different sounds and sub-genres bands employ. Along these lines is “A Lullaby for the Descent.” It’s relatively quiet for the first two minutes before exploding. The duality of the vocal approach with the blackened rasps in the background help paint the picture behind the clean main vocals. A tremolo-picked riff, along with the hard-hitting drums catapult this track into a perfectly balanced joy. Shit. I shouldn’t say that in a review of a black metal adjacent album. Forget I said anything. I was never here.

Damn, you caught me, so I might as well mention “Maladie de l’Esprit,” as it ends the album. It’s a solemn beginning with what I swear is a mandolin.

This album is a pleasant, early 2026 surprise. Its mood changes from violent to stoic, to dreadful, occasionally hopeful, and endlessly introspective. This is the sort of post-black metal that used to heavily populate my conscience. I’m not the same person I was when that was the case as this form has become stale. There are, of course, exceptions, and the new Unverkalt is one of the,m quite worthy of your time.

If you go back and listen to the band’s earlier work, like Supernova, Sadness Will Prevail, and the heavy as fuck In the Eyes of God, and then listen to Never Give In, it’s an almost flaccid experience.

Opening track “Divide and Conquer” is a striding giant of a song; a strong beat combined with some killer sludgy guitar riffs that bring to mind In the Eyes of God. But then they go completely Dark Wave on “I Got Nothin’” echoing the Cure and “Intentional Psychological Warfare” which goes full on Sisters of Mercy; both tracks are still grimy and sludgy, but within the nastiness is a solemn heart, particularly the latter track that sounds like a nasty divorce in progress.

The title track is like Tom Waites having a knife fight with Neurosis, it’s insanely morose and above all it’s FUCKING DEPRESSING! This is more depressing than the darkest DSBM album, if compared to bands like Happy Days and Shining… Bottom line: this album needs a box of tissues.

“Secret Police” starts off with a cool drum fill and then… the horns kick in, yes, horns! This is a killer track; it rocks hard with the horns punctuating the riffs. Steve Austin’s vocals have venom in every word that comes out of his mouth. “Psychic Wound” coalesces around this spindle of a riff; the lyrics are quiet until the song title is shouted out. It’s got this crazy build-up in the midsection that continues until the end of the song.

“The Choice is Yours” is another ode to separation. “I am the Storm” the chorus declares. There’s a female presence on the song, but it doesn’t say who ‘she’ is. Maybe there isn’t a she and it’s a band member who sounds like a woman when he sings. Who knows? It’s a good song either way.

“Pain and Frustration” is a mellow track, with some Jazzy piano creeping its way into the mix. “The Cleansing” is the last track, and it’s depressing as fuck, a song of loss and huge emotions flow out of the speakers like a black flood. “The last time you left me, I lost myself”. Fucking heartbreaking.

I’ll admit that Never Give In had to grow on me. At the beginning of this review, I was almost shitting on it, but yeah, it had to grow on me, and over the course of this review, my attitude towards it has changed drastically. I went in expecting one experience and got a totally different one, and that’s just fine with me. Today is the Day has released an emotionally draining record, which is also perfectly fine.

I recommend this wholeheartedly for the fans of Neurosis, Eyehategod, Melvins, and Converge. Never Give In needs to be in your rotation for rainy days that get you down. Pick it up and cry uncontrollably.

Now, four years later, we get Eunoia (a word describing the mutual feeling of goodwill that exists between a speaker and their audience), and in these divisive, conflicted times, this is the album we need as it is one of the most uplifting, hopeful, warm and heartfelt albums of 2024, if not the last couple of years.

Still, plying their form of mellow post-rock with bursts of screamo, envy are absolute masters of shimmery, minor key melodies laced with Tetsuya Fukagawa’s spoken words, soft croons, and pained shouts/rasps (it’s about a 70/30 split).

And that same split applies musically, as most of Eunoia is this absolutely gorgeous,  heart-rending post-rock that glistens with sun-flecked warmth and emotional, introspective passion. For example, the likes of “The Night and the Void”, “Beyond the Raindrops” or appropriately cimactic “January’s Dusk”, are just sooooo fucking beautiful, but still somehow pained, it almost moves me to tears (it’s my allergies, I swear). It is the musical equivalent of whalesong.

But sometimes, they give a nod back to their more abrasive, tumbling earlier releases as heard on the almost blackened Vallendusk-ish finale of the gloriously uplifting “Imagination and Creation” or Thursday -ish “Whiteout” and “Lingering Echoes”.

The only downsides to this knee-wilting album are that it’s barely 30 minutes long and the female vocals from The Fallen Crimson are absent. With a four-year wait, a little more material would be nice. But otherwise, yet another wondrous effort from one of Japan’s finest musical exports.

For those of you I lost at the mention of “Lilith Fair,” your loss, amigos. Two Shadows is about as catchy an album as I’ve heard in some time, channeling the likes of The Gathering, Alcest, Moosnpell and Solstafir en route to nine tracks full of witchy, spooky vibes that aren’t just fitting for the time of year, but I think could also serve as a pretty chill respite from your more normal, outwardly aggressive listening tendencies (what I’m saying is, put the new Lorna Shore down for a second and take a breather. It’ll still be there when you get back).

In a world where extreme metal is bringing levels on intensity to heights never before seen, bands like Hoaxed are exactly what we need (whether we know it or not) to maintain a healthy balance and keep trends from spinning wildly out of control down a path of endless brutality.  In fact, were it not for drummer Kim Coffel’s unique use of double bass, it’d be difficult to categorize Hoaxed as metal at all – save for some of Guitarist/Vocalist Kat Keo’s darker moments – tracks like “Guilty Ones” and “Where Good Won’t Go” that both certainly carrying a doomy, Katatonia-like quality that aren’t so much bruising as they are more oppressive in a sort-of brooding, emotionally-charged king of way.

The dissonance between Coffel’s drumming style and Keo’s more spacious, melodic guitar playing and vocal lines really makes for a hypnotic listening experience throughout Two Shadows. As the two get into their groove on a track like “The Knowing,” or  “For Love,” you do almost get the sense that you’re falling into a sort of trans, settling into the rhythms while Keo’s infectious, curiously haunting vocals carry you away into another whole plane of existence. When she asks “Would you die for love? Would you kill for love?” on the latter, it seems less a question and more a demand being planted into your subconscious by a mysterious and magical entity. Spooky! And yet, if I am being taken under some spell to do the bidding of a shadowy, malevolent being – so be it! This album has already sunk too deeply into my skin to turn back now anyway.

Hoaxed also pulls of the neat trick of being both very brief in their delivery, and having the songs feel longer than their modest run times suggest. Normally this could be seen as a song dragging on, but no so here – whether it’s again some kind of magical spell making me lose perception of time and space, or whatever the case may be – these are just really well crafted tracks that manage to take you on a bit of a journey in a brief, to-the-point amount of time. Perhaps lending a hand to that effort is the band’s inherent catchiness and listenability – the cleverly picked riff on “High Seas,” paired with the haunting pre-chorus build get stuck in your head immediately, and Keo’s skillful crooning on “Grand Illusions” buries itself into your head, lingering well after the song’s final note is played. And the album as a whole is one that begs to be played in its entirety, with a natural flow from one track to the next that all makes it feel bigger and more grand than the sum of it’s parts.

Two Shadows is a spellbinding, utterly intoxicating debut from a band that seems genuinely primed for big things. I could easily see fans of everyone from Ghost and Sylvaine, to the friggin’ Indigo Girls and Fleetwood Mac latching onto this duo and riding wherever their whims take them. A brilliant start to their career, and whether by means of the dark arts or just my own interests, I’m completely hooked.

Back in the mid 00s I was enamored with a band called The Pax Cecilia, who released 2 self-released and free releases with 2004s Ep, Nouveau and 2007s Blessed Are the Bonds, (which I covered back in the day at one of my other review sites Metalreview.com/ Yourlastrites.com here).  They played a form of largely ambient ambitious, orchestral post rock, metalcore that came across like Shai Hulud meets Neurosis with a full orchestra.

Since then, bands like So Hideous have played and popularized a similar style, but man were The Pax Cecilia special back in 2007.

But then nothing for years, until the Teethofthedivine email gets an email from  Kent Fairman Wilson looking for me and explaining his new project and release, Ode and Elegy. Originally meant as a new The Pax Cecilia release and utilizing former The Pax Cecilia members, as we as over 40 other musicians (including string quartets, brass ensembles, choirs, harpists, flutists etc.) the project evolved into something different and thus, sister act  Ode and Elegy was born.

Comprised of one, 55-minute piece, Ode and Elegy is one of those releases that just barely squeezes into the realms of metal, less so than The Pax Cecilia, but if we cover the likes of Prophecy Production’s or Equilibrium Music’s Avant-Garde neo folk and such, we surely can cover this. It’s largely instrumental, and largely classical music, with simply gorgeous, and I mean utterly knee wilting, wondrous orchestration with a few spurts of post-rock, metal, gruff screams/shouts and guitars here and there.

The ebb and flow of the material is one that follows the album’s themes of catharsis and loss and fits perfectly with emotive peaks and valleys that actually brought a tear to my eye at several points. The performances of the Sofia and Laurels session quartets and orchestras respectively, are truly amazing. Of course, the writing of Wilson and co is what drives those performances and the nuances and structures of one, 55-minute song is hard to put into words.

The affair starts slowly and surely (but even early on, the orchestration hits you right in the feels), with a delicate pianissimo and ends with a poignant metallic crescendo before fading out with a perfect classical decrescendo. But in between, there is plenty going on. While there may be only about 2o minutes of actual ‘metal’ mixed in with the purely classical music, it is delivered at perfect intervals. It’s not until 13 minutes in that we first hear actual ‘metal’-based, crusty riffs and pained screams backing the violins and cellos, that could be from any Halo of Flies or Alerta Antifascista Records record (i.e Lightbearer, Exulansis). 20 minutes in we get another more restrained post-rock sway and lurch, then a more atonal crumble about 6 minutes later. 32 minutes in you get the most expansive ‘metal’ segment that lasts a good 5 minutes and again comes across like those bands I just mentioned.

The two final pieces of metal come towards to end of the release, and when mixed with the orchestral cacophony, add fitting bouts of sheer, cathartic brilliance to close the album before the final 5 minutes shudders with climactic, dramatic prose and almost John Murphy ( 28 Days later, Sunshine) movie score-like poignant closure.

On top of being arguably one of the most enthralling and absorbing pieces of pure music I’ve recently heard ( and a must-listen on good headphones), this is completely free, both as a download or a physical CD that comes in a gorgeous hardbound booklet case . Again, for free….So go and grab this and support this ambitious and unique project, as well as truly independent music.

If summer means more time in the woods for you, too – then undoubtedly you’re looking for some good soundtracks to enjoy along the way. I’m sure you already have some favorites – personally, I tend to go for long, epic, progressive-type Black Metal for such occasions. Enslaved always does the trick pretty well. I’ll turn to the debut from Chicago’s Dismalimerence and their debut Tome: 1 quite a bit. If I’m dealing with a bunch of hills and need a little extra juice, Dodsrit is perfect. But if you’re not in any hurry and you’ve got some time to wander and reflect and marvel at nature’s wonder – then The Flight of Sleipnir might have just the thing ya need.

This band has quietly put together quite a little career for themselves – this being the band’s 6^th full length album in 11 years. But one thing that has stood out over that span of time, is that the band’s sound has progressed almost opposite of what you might expect. While lots of bands over time start softening the edges and toning things down, The Flight of Sleipnir have progressively gotten a little bit sharper and a little bit more aggressive. No, this is by no means Darkthrone or Gorgoroth out here pummeling you away with snarling blasphemy – it’s definitely in that more modern Deafheaven/Wolves in the Throne Room American Post-Black Metal realm, but the band has definitely built itself some lean muscle since their much folk-ier beginnings. While opener “Volund” certainly starts with a very post-y, very uplifting Isis-esque like riff and melody, midway through the song the band switches to a much different, more blackened attack; where on their last album the band relied on more fuzzy doom-inspired heft at times. This darker focus becomes more evident on second track “January” which features some great tremolo-picking and pummeling double-bass drumming behind vocalist/bassist Clayton Cushman’s classic Black metal shrieks, and is by far the most aggressive song the band has yet put together. That said, “Thaw” and closer “Servitude” show the band isn’t just trying out the approach once and putting it back on the shelf, but instead testing the dark waters and generally allowing themselves to indulge in a little more evil. Spooky!

But of course, these guys aren’t here to necessarily just melt your face and blast your eardrums – these are long, meandering sounds taking you through the peaks and valleys of emotions and levels of intensity. They’re still capable of building beautiful, more peaceful atmospheres – as evidence on sections of nearly every track. Whether it’s the piano and acoustic-guitar-led first-half of “Harvest,” or Ghost Bath-inspired clean guitars over a bed of songbirds at the end of “January,” the band is still just as invested on the quieter, more introspective moments as they are on the moments of fury. They’re also adding some neat experimentation, too – taking a cue from Solstafir on “Bathe the Stone in Blood,” bringing some slide and steel guitars into the mix before building into a thick, consuming crescendo that serves as one of the album’s real highlights.

This is one of those albums that, if you’ve never found yourself a particular fan of this band or just weren’t really on board, I really do recommend you check out and give a second chance. It’s not a complete 180-degree turn on the sounds that this band built themselves upon, but there’s a real focused energy here that I think shines through. To these ears, it’s far and away their finest work yet – one that, as the title suggests, best balances the darkness and light, the chaotic and the serene. If nothing else, as I mentioned before, this is another album seemingly purpose-built for getting lost in the woods, going on a long car ride, whatever you need to escape day-to-day life and just immerse yourself in your surroundings and reflect for a while.

Then, very suddenly, things came undone. After an early ’16 tour with the legendary Taake, vocalist and guitarist Nick Thornbury quit the band. To this day, there’s not a whole lot out there regarding what happened – nor is it really any of my business – but it led to the end of a band I’d grown very fond of (though we did get an excellent one-off record by the band’s remaining members on the very different, but fucking killer Vattnet). SO WHAT THE HELL, MAN?! I’m still butthurt.

Now it’s 2021, and again seemingly out of nowhere, Nick Thornbury has decided to bring his guitar and vocal talents back to the scene, this time pairing up with Astronoid frontman Brett Boland on drums and bass to create Kataan – bringing the world their first, self-titled EP which will sure sound veeeeeeeeery familiar to many.

(Fun fact: former Vattnet Viskar bassist and Vattnet guitarist/singer Casey Aylward now plays with Boland in Astronoid. Are you confused yet?)

In essence, Kataan is sorta exactly as you’d expect a project from these two to sound – albeit with a little bit more of a Death Metal-leaning overall tone. Is “Deathgaze” a thing? If not, it is now! (trademark pending). Really, imagine if Vattnet Viskar had never broken up and progressively just got a little bit heavier and heavier as time went on. That’s what you’re getting here, and frankly – it’s killer. Hit play on second track “Abyss,” and you’re right back in familiar Thornbury-led territory, like he never missed a beat. Spacious, layered riffs, along with his signature deep, guttural bellowing – all a welcome return to these ears. Similarly, “Vessel” is a soaring, familiar run into the kinds of elements that made Vattnet Viskar so compelling and appealing in their heyday. Around the 1:50 mark the band launches into a great blast beat section as Thornbury plays a really catchy lead over everything that’s trademark Vattnet/Astronoid territory, but is immediately followed by a barreling stretch of furious riffing over unrelenting double-bass drumming heavier than anything found from either member’s back catalogue – like speeding through an asteroid field into the void of a black hole. It’s a fury similarly felt right out of the gate on opening bruiser “Erase” and the crushing first riffs of “Processor,” and permeates the whole EP with a sense of weighty, foreboding doom.

As expected with these two, there’s also no shortage of “Post” elements to be found on Kataan. One of my favorite passages on the album starts at the mid-point of “Vessel,” with Thornbury starting the stretch off with a simple chugging riff over Boland’s restrained, simple beats – which the two gradually begin building on with layered guitar melodies and some neat robotic vocals, eventually coming to a massive explosion of blast beats and tremolo-picked guitars that serve as a massive, cathartic release to see an end to the EP. It, and many other sections have shades of Numenorean, Junius, Isis and other similar acts written all over them, giving everything a decidedly gloomy outlook.

Brett Boland’s greatest contribution to this record perhaps, is his production work. This is not to take away from what is certainly a capable and, at times, impressive drumming and bass playing performance (this guy really can do it all), but his experience working with the multi-layered, three-guitar attack of Astronoid certainly pays off here. The production is lush, with all the little details delicately and appropriately layered to create a full-bodied listening experience without being overwhelming.

Kataan’s debut isn’t going to blow anyone away with anything you haven’t heard before – but at the end of the day, that’s fine. Just to have Nick Thornbury’s artistic vision back on display is more than enough to get me pretty tickled. It’s like a talented author closing the book on some epic trilogy, going on hiatus, and starting a new storyline. Different, but with that author’s distinct voice and style inevitably coming through the pages. The fun part now begins, as we see where Nick Thornbury takes the story this time.

And so album number five continues the trend, being a bit less black and hateful/shrieky and a little more shouty, post-metal patience. But certainly,  the duo’s infatuation with 10 minute or so long songs (often a bit of a drag) is offset with the superb ability to meld shimmery post-metal with artfully melodic but despondent black metal melodies and crescendoes is something to behold.

At well over an hour, spanning 2 CDs or LPs, covering every single note is a tall order, but personally, when the duo locks into one of the many more brittle, seething 6/8 black metal riffs I’m reminded a little of Vallendusk, as they have the same simply perfect grasp of somber but scathing melodies. And when they find that sweet spot it is absolutely stunning. Now, there is quite a bit of filler between those moments, lots of slow-burning builds, piano and acoustic ebbs and flows, but the payoff is more than worth it.

The opening trifecta of “I, Pallbearer”, “Sing for the Damage We’ve Done” (featuring Neige of Alcest– a ballpark stylistic comparison for those needing it),  and “Us Against December Skies” all thankfully get to the good stuff early making for the 7 and eight-minute songs hold your attention, respectively, with some simply killer, harmonic black metal riffs. Then there is a little more focus on delicate, patient,  post-metal structures for the 11 minute “I’m All About the Dusk”.

Another 10-minute song, “Three Empty Words” comes right out of the gate with some urgent, angry blasting that you might hear on a Svalbard album, another comparison I think is valid at times. Then there is a bit of a lull on the album with “Once Upon a Winter”, “An Ocean Between Us” and “Silver Needle//Golden Dawn”,  all in the 7  to 10-minute range, and I’m not sure if the album is just starting to drag on and repeat a bit or listener exhaustion, but I’m starting to think about other things, even though “Once Upon a Winter” has an excellent, furious closeout and “Silver Needle//Golden Dawn” has some nice mid-song moments.

Luckily, the penultimate track “Time as a Ghost” (the track I heard first that got me go ahead and check the band out) ends the album (cover of Placebo’s “Song to Say Goodbye” notwithstanding), with one of my favorite album’s standouts, having one of the album’s better melodic jaunts/riffs that gets me riled up every time I hear it.

Mære is an excellent album, from a band that has locked into a pretty specific sound for a couple of albums now, and while some of the fat could be trimmed, it’s still a superb, ambitious album that could be in my year-end list due to the sheer number of excellent moments that make the fat worth it. And I for one am glad I’ve finally discovered this excellent duo and their killer back discography.

A song, an album, even a single melody, given the right circumstances or moment in time, can leave an indelible mark on your life. Nearly a year ago, such an album was added to a lifelong playlist of works that will forever hold a special place in my heart – Cattle Decapitation’s Death Atlas.

I remember the months leading up to the album’s release, waiting with increased anticipation as the band slowly released new singles – first the fantastic “One Day Closer to the End of the World,” followed by earworm “Bring Back the Plague,” and then, finally, title track “Death Atlas,” a song I believed to be their greatest work yet – and with it, my need to have the album in full was at a fever pitch.

On the morning of November 27^th, two days before the album was set to drop, sitting at my work desk, I received a phone call that brought my world to a complete stop.

My dad, who had arrived the night before with the rest of my family for Thanksgiving, was dead.

I don’t think there’s anything that can ever prepare you for a moment like that. I know that I, personally, had always thought that I was going to know it was coming. I thought that I would be there at his side to say goodbye. I know now that’s probably a silly and unreasonable expectation, but the truth is, that doesn’t erase the shock or the guilt. The guilt of knowing I wasted my last chance to talk with him, just the two of us having a cigar outside my house, because I was in a piss-ass mood due to outside bullshit – that I couldn’t set those distractions aside and just enjoy my father’s company. The guilt of knowing that I was overwhelmed and irritable with my whole family’s arrival in my home. The guilt of knowing I should have been more attentive, more engaged, should have just enjoyed the moment more. The guilt of knowing that, before he slipped off to bed, I didn’t get to hug him one more time, to wish him a good night. The guilt of knowing that, at the time, I didn’t even think twice about it. The guilt of never considering he may never wake up again. Guilt that I still, and may always, live with.

Three days later, after making funeral arrangements and taking the first steps to figure out what was next for my mother, after three days of internal monologue and thoughts and feelings I couldn’t bring myself to get out and share with my loved ones, more than ever, I needed to escape. So I put on my snow gear, grabbed my headphones, and took my dog to a nearby field to run. It was there that I finally pressed play on Death Atlas for the first time, and for just an hour, my worries and pain, my guilt and self-loathing, they all took a back seat. That album gave me my first desperate reprieve from my darkest moments, and I’m forever grateful.

I suppose by now I should apologize for the fact that, this far in, I’ve managed only to talk about my personal bullshit, and an album that has, quite literally, nothing to do with Solstafir’s new album.

Sorry for that.

But if 2020 has done anything, it’s forced me, as I’m sure it has many of you, to do a lot more self-evaluating, to really take a much deeper look at yourself and become even more familiar with the demons that lie inside, and as I approach the one year anniversary of my father’s death, I find myself again feeling overwhelmingly introspective – a mindset that has opened the door for Endless Twilight of Codependent Love  to become yet another work that will be forever linked with a keystone point in my life.

Those familiar with the band know that Solstafir’s trademark has always been their ability to create a sweeping, evocative blend of black metal, post-rock and, in more recent works, more indie-leaning sounds that have an uncanny ability to feed upon the listener’s emotions – a feat made even more impressive by the fact that the band rarely strays from their native Icelandic tongue. They rely instead on emotive guitars and soaring atmospheres to carry the load, with the vocals – for us non-Icelandics – still very much conveying the raw intensity and feelings of singer/guitarist “Addi” Tryggvason nearly as effectively as if he were singing in English.

Endless Twilight sees Solstafir at a bit of a crossroads themselves. The band’s trend towards a more atmospheric, somber emphasis on their sound culminated with 2017’s least “metal-ish” album to date, the very moody and somewhat divisive Berdreyminn, an album that saw very little of the band’s more blackened roots. So is Endless Twilight “metal”? A mellow, melancholic beginning to opening track “Akkeri” certainly makes you think “perhaps not,” but about a minute and a half in, the band changes it’s tune and hits with one of the more driving riffs they’ve put to recording since their album Otta, and after a truly hypnotic melody, the band makes old and newer fans alike leap with joy as they barrel into a blackened, tremolo-picked black metal riff that will bring listeners back to their more heathenistic early days. After the band takes an atmospheric break from the action, they return with an epic second-half featuring more super-catchy, almost Down or Corrosion of Conformity-inspired melodies that sound really fucking good, and see out what is a fantastic start to this album.

And that’s not the end of the band’s return to more of its former self – “Dionysus” is filled with some of that chaotic energy that’s gone largely missing from the band’s sound since the Köld or Svartir Sandar years, and the end of final track, “Úlfur,” features a thick, heavy build that is honestly one of the finer moments the band has ever put together, and serves as a sort of giant crescendo to the album’s emotional rollercoaster. Again, I have no idea what the band is singing about, but the overall feeling of emotional outburst is just as palpable and cathartic.

But the band is still leaning heavily on a more post-rock tone throughout this one, wearing their homeland Sigur Rós influence proudly on their sleeves. Second track “Drýsill” carries one of the album’s prettier melodies, giving me a distinctly Alcest-like vibe, complete with some really nice, subtle synth overlays that add to the song’s intricately crafted atmosphere. Weirdly, “Alda Syndanna” breaks out a dirty grunge riff that, on paper, may seem out of place with the rest of what the band has going on here, but instead does a nice job of tapping into yet another of the album’s emotional markers – be it a high point or breaking point, I’ll leave up to you.

I won’t pretend that the album isn’t without some questionable moments. “Til Mordar” really lays the atmosphere on thick, reaching almost New Age territory that many of our readers I’m sure, won’t find terribly appealing. In and of itself it’s not a track you just throw on because you’re in the mood – it can only really exist within the context of this entire album. Then again, as a song to have in the background while in the middle of deep, existential thought, it does the trick very nicely. On the penultimate “Or,” they really play with some experimentation, starting the track with a classic blues progression over some Hammond organs, and ending with another of the band’s signature building crescendos. I actually like both halves of this song separate from one another, but together the fit is a little clunky and head-scratching.

I have to admit, were it not at the moment in time this album came into my life, my attachment to it might be less fervent. I’m comfortable enough to admit that I’m in a somewhat vulnerable state in my life, and as such I’m susceptible to letting my emotions carry me away a bit. But so what? Objectively, there’s plenty of scratches on the surface that probably keep this from becoming an even better record in a lot of people’s minds, but despite that, Solstafir have succeeded in creating another album that will certainly play on the listener’s emotions and have the potential to really tap into your innermost thoughts. Not to get even more “writer-y” than I already have in this review, but the album really succeeds if the listener is really willing to let themselves go, really submerse themselves into the experience of this record. I’ve still got plenty of hills to climb, plenty of shit to deal with both inside my head and out, but I can say without question that having this album in my life has, and I believe will continue to help me come to terms with it all, one melody, one track at a time. It’s a personal testament, and reminder of the power that music and art can have on your life. I don’t really know of a bigger recommendation I can give.

Hailing from the state of Washington, Bréag Naofa (Gaelic for ‘holy lie’) are a relatively new act comprised from members of other Washington based based acts Trial, Sinking Ships and Love Is Red. And for those folks lamenting the demise of Fall of Efrafa (but don’t mention Light Bearer) and their epic, intellectual post-rock take on literary atheism, look no further than Bréag Naofa to fill that void.

Originally self-released digitally by the band, Seattle’s Panic Records has snapped up this debut untitled release for a vinyl treatment and the result is a must have release in either format for fans of Isis, Neurosis, Cult of Luna, Rosetta and such, but it’s the band’s sprawling militant vegan and atheist stylings that truly brings them up to elite status and cements the compelling Fall of Efrafa comparisons.

Starting with a quote from notorious contract killer Richard “The Iceman” Kuklinski, the album is four lengthy (7-13 minutes or so) unnamed tracks of rumbling mid-paced builds, crusty d-beat urgency and delicate introspective moments. It’s all tied together by the common lyrical theme, DIY but dense production and throaty roars, and it all comes together perfectly. Nothing is really forced or piece meal. The balance between dark, crushing riffs, snarling crust and ambiance is perfect as heard on the last third of “II”, last half of “III” and the album’s most sprawling enthralling cut, closer  “IV”. From its hypnotic opening hues, deliberate build, heaving rhythmic mid section, thunderous peak and calming acoustic close out. It’s  all just perfectly done from start to finish and never lingers to long on the ambience. It just commands your attention from start to finish, almost effortlessly.

So do yourself a favor and pick this up on vinyl or donate a few bucks to the band and get a digital release here.

Opener “Dusk” starts with a slow, subsurface rumble, and then the world splits apart. It’s all droning guitars and rasping, buried vocals, but the drums are what really command your attention. They’re varied, frenzied, precise and densely interwoven; a geyser of boulders, ash and jagged shards falling to earth in syncopated, geometric patterns, like the gods painting in volcanic pointillism. In fact, given that melody here is mostly limited to drone, it’s as if the guitars and percussion have switched places, where the drums are by far the more colorful and dynamic element.

That sets the tone for the rest of Nadir, which is comprised of long, hypnotic tracks rather than the previous album’s shorter grindcore spasms. There are a lot of subtly cresting dynamics at play throughout, and although “Dusk” contains the expected post-rock melodic droning interlude, variance is achieved in other ways throughout the album. Plodding doom and deep guttural roars crest into shuddering, black metal paroxysms on “Throatless Sirens.” Shoegazer vocals strain to be heard amid peals of martial percussive thunder on “The Blood of Time,” and on “Requiem for the Grey,” subtle strings and tones are wedded to mechanized, Amenta-like guitars.

As its album cover suggests, Nadir is the sonic equivalent of an endless, thundering torrent, with roiling clouds reflected in the churn. It’s strictly late-night or headphones listening, well-suited for introspection and slow, cathartic build-ups, but despite all that, it’s not a monotonous listen. Beyond Terror Beyond Grace have managed to paint an enveloping and enthralling experience with all those blacks and grays, so color me impressed.

(Nadir doesn’t hit until April, but check out Willowtip’s site for pre-orders.)