Certainly, The Great Heathen Army felt less like a genuine effort to write a complete album, and more an exercise in writing big arena-rockers for fans to pretend to row along with, while holding imaginary drinking horns aloft.

In other words, Amon Amarth got a little… hokey.

Listen, I’m all for having a good time, even more so for not taking oneself too seriously – and sure, you can argue that the whole Viking thing has always been a little bit on the side of cheesy, I guess. But what Amon Amarth has always excelled at (particularly since their breakthrough With Oden On Our Side), is finding that real sweet spot between genuinely great songwriting and album-building, and leaning in just enough to the Viking aura to make the whole thing all the more engaging and fun (particularly in a live setting).

Alas, recent efforts like The Great Heathen Army and Berserker (and many would argue Jomsviking – I personally disagree), though boasting a few bangers on each respectively, overall felt like a band going for style over substance.

Which is why it brings me IMMENSE joy to tell you, Amon Amarth has rediscovered that critical balance. I think The Allfather Awakens is the best Amon Amarth has sounded in a LONG time. I’m talking, like, 15 years here, when they dropped my personal-favorite AA album, Surtur Rising (I realize this in and of itself might be a controversial opinion, but that album fucking rips and you can’t convince me otherwise).

Now look, I’m not saying this is a complete return to With Oden On Our Side or Twilight of the Thunder God era AA. The band that has slowly but surely embraced more melodic, anthem-heavy elements of the last few releases – that’s just part of the reality of who this band is in 2026. And that’s great! Who doesn’t love a great friggin’ anthem?! And we sure as hell get a couple here – particularly the immensely catchy and bouncy “We Rule the Waves” with its sing-along chorus and simple, super-effective riffing. But it also carries a bit of a sense of self-assuredness that was lacking in recent efforts.

Ditto for the titular “The Allfather Awakens”, which, sure, the riffs are certainly lifted and slightly rearranged from past AA work, but god damn if they don’t sound tight as hell with drummer Jocke Wallgren, who, to these ears, sounds the most in sync with the band as he ever has. And hell yeah, we get a banger of a drinking track with “Kvasir’s Blood,” a nice and heavy down-tuned headbanger featuring some of Johan’s lowest, most menacing vocals to date (more on this shortly) and a rollicking chorus about drinking mead made from the blood of the gods which, how is that not going to bring a smile to your face? It’s fun as hell.

But it’s not all just arena-friendly anthems this time around. Album opener “Gjallarhorn” (the best opener the band has had in a minute) strikes a perfect balance – featuring some awesome sing-along “woah”-ing that will sound amazing in a crowd of thousands of metalheads, but also puts some of the band’s signature tremolo-picking riffs on full display with absolute glory. I honestly haven’t felt my blood pump and heart race like this from an AA track in a long time, and it’s a welcome return – and it only continues with the follow-up “Eight Legs of Thunder” coming hot on its tail –  a fitting ode to Odin’s eight-legged horse Sleipnir (not their first, but maybe their best), boasting appropriately galloping riffs, and genuinely one of Olavi Mikkonen’s most epic, inspired solos of his career. It’s such a fun track that, again, sees the band leaning into the Viking fun without crossing over into being too cheesy.

And then there’s the punishing “Die with a War Cry” that may genuinely be one of Amon Amarth‘s heaviest tracks to date (certainly of their modern era) – showcasing more of Johan’s apparent new mastery of deep, growling lows that sound straight out of Helheim itself. Say whatever you will about any of AA‘s more recent work, John Hegg continues to get better and better with every release and deserves his flowers.

I also really like the addition of the band’s first acoustic track in “Upphaf.” It’s a perfectly placed break in the middle of this record that brings an unusual sense of reflection and serenity to the otherwise furious affair. If anything, I see no reason this couldn’t be integrated more into even more traditionally heavy or epic Amon Amarth tracks (not that it needs to be a focal point; it’s just another nice wrinkle). I think it also let the band feel confident on closing out the album on two absolute friggin’ scorchers – first with the blazing “Oden’s Hunt,” which sends the band on a full-throttle attack of tremolo-picking and relentless double-kicked drumming. Again, Johan sounds absolutely monstrous on this track, particularly on the crushing bridge leading up to the final chorus.

Closer “Ascending Like An Eagle” features some riffing that could easily have found its way on some of the band’s earlier albums, before switching into some more modern soaring leads in the chorus, a nice nod to the old while embracing who they are as a band now, and a super strong end to what was such a well-balanced and crafted album.

I can’t tell you how nice it is to be this excited about one of my favorite bands’ new albums, and to see them, this late into their career, settle into a groove they’ve struggled to find, to deliver such an immense album. I want to stress that this album isn’t just good because of how much better it sounds than their recent output (not just from a songwriting perspective, but from a production standpoint, this album just sounds so much more full and robust as well), this album stands tall just fine all on its own. Amon Amarth got serious again without sacrificing the fun that has always made them such a compelling act, and we can all only hope that they can continue to strike this epic balance.

Odin, The Allfather has awoken, and so has Amon Amarth.

And if there’s any band in the world of metal that can truly be broken down and so clearly defined by eras of their work, Moonspell certainly deserves a deep dive.

Portugal’s most famous and prolific metal export, Moonspell have made no bones about the fact that the band is in the twilight of their careers. While they’ve given themselves no specific expiration date, knowing that an inevitable end is in the near future makes every new release an even more fascinating listen – especially when you consider how the band has progressed and altered their sound through the years (I won’t waste time breaking down the band’s whole catalog AGAIN, just go here for the basics).

Appropriately, 2021’s Hermitage saw the band present a much more sobering, introspective sound that really did seem like a band coming to terms with their own mortality after years of some of their most bombastic and epic work (and also spawned an amazing live recording of the album from a show literally underground in a Portuguese cave – tell me that doesn’t fucking rule). It was a clear shift in the band’s approach, seeming to mark yet another new era in the band’s sound.

As it turns out, Hermitage was not necessarily setting the stage for a new era, but perhaps instead clearing it altogether to let the band cook with a whole new blank canvas. While the album’s first note on “Cross Your Heart” does indeed feature some of the bluesy, slide guitar flavors leftover from their last album, things quickly go completely vintage Moonspell. The Irreligious and Sin/Pecado vibes? OFF THE FRIGGIN CHARTS. I’m instantly thrown back to the first time I heard “Opium” and fell in love with this band. Everything from guitar tone to those dramatic synths to Fernando Ribeiro’s moody-as-fuck vocal approach just SCREAM a certain era of the band’s sound that we haven’t heard in about 25 years, and while I adore Moonspell’s more epic contemporary work, I’m tickled pink to hear this version of the band again in 2026. Chalk it up to nostalgia or whatever you’d like, it’s a fucking VIBE.

And it’s a vibe that only kicks into higher gear on “Far From God,” what with its whispered-word and synth-backed intro that makes me want to throw on some white foundation and heavy eyeliner and go dance around an abandoned warehouse with a bunch of other black-clad antisocials. It’s the unmistakably catchy sound of 90s and 2000s Goth Metal that made bands like Tiamat, The Kovenant and Theatre of Tragedy all the rage during that time. Even the production seems to be trying to cull some of that yesteryear magic. Yes, this sounds more polished, per se, than a release from earlier time periods may have, but the mix itself is spot-on for that era, with Fernando’s vocals coming in clean and clear, and given just enough effect to create an even more ominous, creepy atmosphere. The track is an absolute goth rock/metal anthem that should quickly become a fan favorite. Hell, throw “Promise of Light,” “For the Love of Mortals”, and closer “Reconquista” on your spooky Halloween Dance playlist too, each giving superb melodrama and theatrical panache.

But Far From God is far more fulfilling than just “vibes.” This is a thoroughly engaging and fulfilling record, with lush atmospheres and super solid songwriting that begs repeat listening. “Biblical,” the album’s first track to bring Fernando’s excellent harsh vocals into the mix, bears all the hallmarks of Moonspell‘s sound that you could ever really hope for, with building, earworm melodies that crescendo into a burst of energy that offer a cathartic release. And the song FUUUUUCKS in every sense of the word – speaking to a love so intense and forbidden that it becomes its own mix of ecstasy and tragedy. It oozes with tension and desire, and I’ll just say it – give this one a shot next time it’s go time with your, uh, special friend. Thank me later. Really, this entire album would make for an INTENSE night in the bedroom. Like, it’s not horny, per se, but every track just oozes with a kind of anxious desire and passion that should get you, uh, going, regardless.

Then there’s the superb “The Great Wolf in the Sky,” featuring some beautiful string work from Spanish composer Alicia Nuhro – it culls every bit of spiritual and mystical energy you’d expect from a track with such a name, and pulls in some of the more epic drama you’d expect on albums like Extinct and 1755, making for an intoxicating and immersive listen. It’s really everything you could want from a Moonspell track – drama, emotion, bombast in spades – it’s the kind of track that only a band with so much experience and confidence in their craft could pull off, and we’re all lucky enough to be around to see a band like this, after so long, continue to really shine. Ditto for “Our Freedom to Fall,” the album’s heaviest and, perhaps best track (honestly I think this is the best song Moonspell have made in a long time, which is certainly saying something given their pedigree). It’s just so perfectly crafted and put together, with infectious, doomy riffs and synths that just won’t relent, and Fernando deploying all his various vocal tricks and talents to create the album’s most dynamic offering.

I honestly didn’t know what to expect after Hermitage, and I certainly don’t think it was THIS, but you’re gonna get zero complaints from me. It’s not just a well-performed throwback, it’s a celebration of Moonspell through the years that any fan of the band should be able to fully appreciate and enjoy. Whenever Moonspell does call it quits for good, it’s gonna be a sad day – but I feel confident and content in knowing that the band will go out the same way the band always existed – on their own terms, and with their own unique voice. Far From God is easily one of my favorite albums so far this year, and I think over time could prove to be a classic, even for a band as decorated and beloved as this.

Which is why musically, sometimes, I just need something super simple – something that really requires little to no analyzation so I can stare into the middle distance and disassociate for a lil bit, or just bang my head without having to think too much about it. If I can tune out while still passively letting out some of the aggression or frustration built up from just generally being alive in the world? Hell yeah, brother. Sign me up.

Enter the UK’s Cage Fight – and sure, you may be thinking to yourself, “I dunno man, I’m not really sure saying a band requires little thought is actually, like, a compliment?” But I promise you, I mean this with the utmost respect and admiration. Cage Fight is one of those band that, when asked, you can genuinely just categorize them as “Metal,” and you really don’t have to elaborate any further. It’s really all you need to know, and I honestly think that’s a beautiful thing.

If you NEED to break it down, Exuvia has a little dash of everything here to please just about everyone. The first proper track, “Oxygen,” begins life sounding like it was lifted straight out of Arch Enemy‘s Wages of Sin album, with militant, thrashy guitars straight out of the Amott playbook. But instead of playing out like a straight-up mimic, the band blends in some bombastic, catchy-as-all-hell UK Metalcore elements throughout the track ala Bleed from Within or Malevolence to add a little spice to the bag, making for an aggressive, if not pleasingly melodic start that gets the blood pumping in short order. Vocalist Rachel Aspe throws everything she’s got into the mix, with a nice range of raspy, venomous harsh vocals – and a nice balance of airy cleans that come together nicely to deliver an effective and engaging listen. Throw in a good n’ burly breakdown to close out the track, and we’ve got the makings of something super fun here.

And make no mistake, Cage Fight can bring the punishment. “Pig” is a groovy, Metallic Hardcore anthem that bounces along at the kind of pace that easily inspires all sorts of pit antics – from swingy two-stepping, to more punishing crowd killing, to a good ol’ crowd-pleasing pogo. There’s even some appropriate pig squeals! Lending the track a sort of Despised Icon-esque Death/Hardcore vibe that tickles my brain aplenty – a feeling that only gets amplified on the super fun, wholly unserious “Pick Your Fighter,” featuring the squealy talents of Benighted‘s Julien Truchan on guest vocal duty. It’s a quick-hitter that minces no words about it’s intent of dealing out as much punishment in as little amount of time as possible. If you can believe it, “The Hammer Crush” pulls a similar stunt, taking less than three minutes of your time to just be fun, heavy and bouncy, featuring perhaps the album’s most fun and raucous breakdown just to really hammer the point home (see what I did there? Again, I should stress that this is not highbrow shit here. It’s just fun).

There’s also a few tracks where I stop and go “Devildriver… dat you?” only lending further to the stance that Cage Fight is just simply a Metal band (I’d even argue at this point they’re Devildriver-ing better than Devildriver themselves?). “Deathstalker,” title track “Exuvia” and the super fun and excellent “IHYG (I Hate Your Guts)” really fit the bill – a little thrashy, a little groovy, a little metalcore-y (if you squint), but honestly just quality, no frills Metal that satisfies you on a base level. The kinds of tracks that really just tap into your most basic metal needs in the best way. Aspe’s cleans on the title track are great, bringing to mind a little bit of Kittie‘s Morgan Lander (COMPLETE side note, Lander ‘s new gothy darkwave project Winterlvst with Blackguard’s Justine Ethier and Jonathan L Leduc just recently released a fuckin EXCELLENT album called Awkakening that I HIGHLY recommend. Anywayyyyyyy) and adds some really impressive and enjoyable depth to her performance.

I genuinely have nothing bad to say about Exuvia – it’s a super solid release that, honestly, wasn’t really even on my radar, but I’m really glad I had a go! It’s no bullshit, no pretense, just straight in-your-face heat that should put a smile on anyone’s face. Don’t think too hard about it, just give ‘er a rip and enjoy the ride.

To be honest, watching kids grow up from afar is probably more my speed anyway – and it can be a real mind-fuck of an experience! When you’re only seeing your friends’ and families’ kids every few months (let alone years!), you miss all the subtle growth and daily changes that brought them to where they are now. Instead, you just get these big ol’ jumps where they literally become entirely different people every time you see them. Oh they used to like dinosaurs? Well now they like trains. Get ready to hear everything there is to know about the Union Pacific Big Boy articulated 4-8-8-4 locomotive,  the largest and heaviest steam locomotive ever developed. But also be ready to talk about dinosaurs because no one ever gets bored of dinosaurs.

THE POINT IS, it often takes a bit for someone to develop their actual identity – time to experience and try new things, figure out what you really like and don’t actually like at all to figure out what really makes you, you. Case and point, take a look at Scotsman James McBain and his body of work with Hellripper. The project started out in life with the basic identity of, “I’m gonna play guitar really fast and write songs about the devil and evil shit.” And it was fine! McBain has always had a knack for a really good riff, and his ability to write catchy, no-frills club bangers that encouraged crowd participation and interaction has never been in question, to the point that the growth of the “Goat Kvlt” on an international stage was no joke. Tracks like “Full Moon Witchery, “Bastard of Hades,” and the fan favorite “All Hail The Goat” were all good for a quick hit of thrashing, ripping blackened speed metal for the sake of all things \M/METAL\M/. But if I’m being honest, most earlier work was a sort of “here for a good time, not for a long time” affair. A sort of one-trick-pony that was super fun in the moment, but fairly easily moved on from and forgotten about in the long term. A band I’d gladly go see live, but wouldn’t spend a TON of time becoming invested in.

That all started to change with 2023’s Warlocks Grim & Withered Hags. The killer riffs that were always Hellripper‘s trademark were still there, of course, but McBain also started to inject a lot more substance into his music, crafting an overall sound and experience that were uniquely his. First, he really started to embrace his Scottish roots by putting creatures and entities of Scottish folklore and legend front and center in his songwriting (look no further than “The Nuckelavee” and “Mester Stoor Worm” as prime examples), and even included an awesome bagpipe cameo on the album’s title track just to bring the point home (quite literally). But even more noticeably, McBain started to expand his songwriting to become far more dynamic, going beyond the surface-level impact of fast-and-furious quick-hitters and instead offering a fully-fleshed, fully realized listening experience with a lot more lasting power. It was, and still is one of my favorite albums of that year, and indeed of this decade so far, setting quite the bar for McBain to try and match, let alone top.

As usual, I’ve beat around the bush plenty – so I’ll just say it: Coronach is Hellripper‘s finest work yet. McBain hasn’t missed a beat, and instead has set a whole new benchmark for what’s possible with this project. It fucking rips. It’s so good.

True to form, this album wastes no time getting right into action – with “Hunderprest” galloping straight out of hell’s gate with a lightning storm of excellent Blackened Thrash riffs. Where before a good Hellripper riff was, in essence, just that – McBain is continuing to up his game, offering more and more stacked, harmonized riffing for a full, rich sound that keeps you coming back to pick apart more and more layers with every listen. And the insane riffs just keep piling up one after another! In days past, “Hunderprest” would probably come to an end around the 2:30 minute mark after the song’s second reprise. Here and now, we’re met with a distorted, disturbing piano decrescendo, before McBain blasts open yet another blistering, ultra-blackened riff – this time backed by a pummeling blast beat that sounds every bit as chaotic and evil as hell’s seventh layer. This all serves as a bridge into the first of this album’s awe-inspiring solo sections, where McBain puts his full chops on display – the sort of soloing built on having had a steady diet of Kirk Hammet and Dave Mustaine in your musical development. Not that it should have been in any question, but it’s a stark reminder of the level of musicianship we’re actually working with here, even if often overlooked or underappreciated.

What strikes me most about this era of Hellripper is the sense of balance McBain is able to maintain throughout the course of the album. Tracks like “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite)” and “Blakk Satanik Fvkkstorm” prove that, despite some of the maturity and growth that has taken place, the unbridled fun and sadistic joy that has been the core of the Hellripper experience is still alive and well. I’d hate to ever see a version of this band where these kinds of tracks didn’t exist, and McBain seems just as happy as ever to provide them – the latter in particular really just leaning fully into the bit with an anthemic, balls-to-the-walls Black ‘n’ Roll attack that just brings a dumb smile to your face. The former is just a straight-up Thrash heater, complete with a simple, gang vocal’d chorus that will be a huge crowd pleaser, and the kind of Maiden-inspired melodies that can’t help but get under your skin and make you wanna don your battle jacket and throw horns wildly in the air. It’s an instant Hellripper classic sure to be a staple of every live gig moving forward.

On the other end of the spectrum, the midpaced, piano-intro’d “The Art of Resurrection” provides listeners with a welcome change of pace and added depth – dripping with blackened atmosphere and more infectious, anthemic sing-along moments that show McBain really has his audience first and foremost in mind in his songwriting process. Even in it’s blackened drear, there’s an uplifting, almost triumphant air to the song that seems to show McBain flexing his muscles, expressing the sort of confidence needed to rip out yet another of his brilliant solos – this one not so much reaching virtuoso status, but instead showing a level of understanding and restraint for what works with this track, another sign of McBain’s growth as a songwriter. The complexity of this one is carried over into the next, with “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned)” featuring the kind of turn-on-a-dime time pace changes and collection of riffing and solo work that will leave you dizzied, but certainly impressed. The stretch beginning around the 2:50 mark is one of Hellripper‘s finest, featuring an attack of galloping guitars that practically snapped my neck in three places when I found myself needing to headbang along with demented glee. The track rounds out with an unusually pretty (yes, I said pretty) close with mighty, gorgeous guitars backed by the tweeting of… songbirds? McBain is painting a picture of finding one’s self in the middle of a foggy Scottish wood, and I’m absolutely here for it. It once again points to McBain’s willingness to stretch out the boundaries of what’s possible from the band, finding himself within the project and who he is as a songwriter. It’s brilliant.

This far in, I won’t bog you down any more than I already have to wax poetic about the album’s final two tracks, “Mortercheyn” and title track “Coronach.” Simply put, they’re two of the better tracks McBain has put together through the history of this project – the latter being the sort of Blackened Heavy Metal opus that should grab the attention of every self-respecting Heavy Metal fan on the planet (and we get more bagpipes! Give me all the fucking bagpipes). It’s a brilliant end to a brilliant album that has brought Hellripper‘s game to a whole new depth. I’ve considered myself a fan of this band for a long time (even if from afar), but Cornonach makes me feel like that neglectful godparent who now shows up to gigs and tells everyone in sight about how he knew them as “wee lads” and always knew they were going to blow up into the juggernaut they are today. It’d be an outright lie, but fuck it – the unearned pride I feel for this band’s development is no less real and I’m holding on to it. It’s about time the world get to see what McBain and Hellripper can do, and I hope they take over the goddamn planet.

In truth though, when you get to that level of pepper-induced pain, real flavor kind of takes a back seat. The term “straight gas, no brakes” could appropriately be applied, not only for the all-out dedication to oral punishment, but because one of the few flavor profiles attached to little bastards like these is often “ethanol-like.” So… gas. On the other hand, if you still want the surface-level capsaicin rush, but want more depth of flavor, there’s no shortage of options available. There’s the beautiful, rich earth tones of a poblano or hatch chili, or in the case of the humble (if misunderstood) habanero, a bright, fruity backbone that pairs delightfully with white wine, fruit or white meats, but with plenty of kick to still reach down your pants and give you a little thrill. Consensually.

The point is, whatever flavor profile you’re looking to fit, whatever personal tastes you may have or experience you want to partake in, peppers have no shortage of options available to get you where you wanna go.

Portugal’s Gaerea, for their part, are certainly no stranger to the art of delivering a highly impactful experience. Their emotionally-driven, cathartic blend of extreme music has certainly never lacked in the way of “spice,” but through the course of their career, the band has steadily worked their way down from billion-scoville levels of blistering attack, to more modest, palatable levels of aggression, coming fully to a head in he form of 2024’s Coma, an album that saw the band at their relatively-most-accessible, while still providing no shortage of furious, blast-beaten and blackened fury.

It also marked the first album with founding member and longtime lead guitarist Alpha (Guilherme Henriques) taking over vocal duties from original vocalist, Ruben Freitas. While Freitas’ tortured, impassioned bellows were certainly chills-inducing and every bit fitting of the band’s sound, Alpha proved he not only could match Freitas’ intensity, but also expand the band’s range by incorporating the occasional stretch of clean vocals and whispered accents that only made the band’s penchant for atmosphere all the more potent. The increased emphasis on space and melody only heightened the drama of their work, effectively making the highs and lows of the album all the more devastating in its delivery, and perhaps more importantly, did so in a way that never betrayed what has always made Gaerea such a unique and recognizable entity.

With Loss (the band’s first effort with Century Media), Gaerea continues to push its own boundaries to create a more complex and, at least to these ears, a more impressive product. While never ones to shy away from emotional themes and overtones, tracks like “Submerged,” “Phoenix” and “Cyclone” showcase the band leaning even further into what’s possible with the use of more intricate and sophisticated vocal techniques (including a not unwelcome increase in really pretty and heartfelt cleans, particularly on the excellent “Cyclone”), and the addition of even more varied and interesting musical influences – the snapping break of “Submerged” and lofi intermission “LBRNTH” are equal parts unexpected and exceptionally appropriate, providing the sort of sudden-turn palate cleansers amongst the chaos that both shock the system and lend even further to the overall experience of listening to this album.

And that’s all before we get the album’s breathtaking closer “Stardust,” which takes the album’s overall theme of loss and grieving to its crushing conclusion. Imagine if Lorna Shore decided to re-record their landmark “Pain Remains” trilogy, but with a guest collaboration from Sleep Token both vocally and musically – that should give you at least an idea of the kind of soul, intensity, and devastation poured into this track, making for one of this band’s true crowning achievements in their already impressive career.

Before anyone gets put off by the mention of the (confusingly) divisive Sleep Token, or merely pointing out the uptick in clean vocals on this album, make no mistake that the band is still just as capable of delivering violence at a level many bands can only aspire to. “Hellbound” and “Uncontrolled” each unleash the band’s blasting fury in spades, putting aggression at the forefront while still providing balance with moments of calm and stillness. Hell, it’s not even as if the previously mentioned tracks that do flirt more with the lighter, more experimental side of their sound hardly go without the devastating outbursts that make up such a signature part of the band’s identity; they just have a little more under the hood to offer than previous iterations of the band fully provided. If a song like “Phoenix” can’t get your juices flowing, particularly with its defiant message of self-reliance and perseverance through trial and tribulation, then like… I don’t really know what to tell you, man? Shit makes me want to run through a wall, brick or otherwise.

Loss, at its essence, feels like a band truly letting their guard down and allowing their most authentic form to fully bloom. The pressure to be as visceral, to be as brutal and overwhelming as a Trinidad Scorpion chile, no longer seems to be holding this band hostage. The result is a far more enjoyable and complex flavor profile that you’ll remember for more pleasant reasons than just obliterating your taste buds. There’s a range of emotion and depth of influence on display that encourages you to come back again and again to find new, subtle notes and details. It’s an experience that can still bring you to tears, but also fill you with pure joy and self-assured strength. This is Gaerea, so far anyway, at its most impactful, and I commend the band for bringing all these elements together in such a cohesive, intoxicating blend. Loss is a monumental achievement for this band, one that we should all experience.

My brand of self-destructive tendencies (and mental illness!) have certainly taken me to a number of dumb and regrettable decisions in my life, make no mistake about it. I’m no stranger to the extremes of adrenaline-fueled, substance-motivated behavior. I’d dare say that it’s that proclivity for extreme behaviors that partially fuels my love for, ya know, extreme forms of music. But even my depraved, addiction-prone little brain has its limits!

So when I found out that Forcefed Horsehead and Shaving the fucking Werewolf were releasing a split? Together??

Are we sure about this??

 Allow me to briefly remind you that at helm of Shaving the Werewolf is… this guy:

I know we’re not supposed to be judging books by their covers but, some judgements are being made here – especially when the first track of the band’s half of the split is entitled (appropriately) “Smoking the Crack of Dawn,” and comes complete with the ravings of said lunatic screaming “CUT OFF MY BALLS” during the song’s devastating climactic breakdown. Mind you, before we even get to THAT, you find the man ranting about how his genitals often whisper menacingly at him. Apparently, his father also faced the same affliction, and HIS father before that so…. yeah! Go ahead and chop those puppies off, I guess! As already established, Shaving the Werewolf write music like a deranged fever dream, with the aforementioned track containing the kinds of discordant, disturbing guitar flourishes and psycho killer amusement park synths that have become the band’s hallmark, all giving their already chaotic brand of “disagreeable grindpunk” (their words) the listening experience of very quickly going fucking insane. It’s an absolute head rush that, despite better judgement, I cannot walk away from.

“Affordable Victims” keeps the pedal planted on the floor (as if the band had any brakes to begin with), opting for maximum aggression that allows no room for the listener to breath. It’s a straightforward, all-gas attack on your aural senses, with heavy nods to the likes of Converge, Botch and Agoraphobic Nosebleed, but while those bands are amongst the most aggressive and hostile to ever do it, Shaving the Werewolf exists more in a state of outright belligerence. “Complaining in Body Language” sees the band not only turning the heat up to it’s maximum level, but then ripping the thermostat off the wall, dousing it in pure ethanol, and setting it ablaze in a manic burst. Grind has always been about maximum aggression, but this band continues to somehow take it to a thoroughly unhinged extreme. Where The Dillinger Escape Plan gave the world a precise, Einstein-level mathematical approach to chaos, Shaving the Werewolf is the Ivy League valedictorian whose brain broke and now lives in a piss-soaked carboard box in Hartford’s seedier outskirts beyond the confines of Yale University. There’s a brilliant mind in there somewhere, but it’s currently churning out absolute nonsense that only Shaving the Werewolf themselves can fully understand – and that’s okay! I’m still finding it thoroughly entertaining.

Closer “Man Song” showcases the band, and indeed vocalist Ottar Skift at maybe their battiest, throwing everything at the wall from HM-2 drenched crunch, to tremolo-picked, blackened fury, to utterly destructive breakdowns, all wrapped up in a track that, so far as I can tell, is about proving one’s manhood to an abusive father through the most toxically masculine means possible. I don’t know what this man has been through, but for the love of god someone give him a hug. Make sure you’re wearing gloves, though. It’s a fitting, disturbing end that thoroughly cements the band in a league all their own. It’s batshit, it’s completely in-your-face, and I absolutely adore it.

By now, I’m sure you’re thinking “hey dummy, you did this all backwards,” and you’re right! Forcefed Horsehead does indeed kick off the front end of this EP. I can’t really explain why I opted to start with Shaving the Werewolf besides to say, once you listen to this record you’ll understand why they sorta demand your attention front-and-center, but it’s certainly not for lack of effort from the Pony Boys’ grinding attack. Indeed, the Naked Wolf  (I don’t know why we’re going with nicknames now just roll with me) are one of the few bands that could make FFHH seem tame by comparison, with opener “Promisebreaker” hardly taking things easy. The band’s more straightforward, Grinding D-Beat attack, paired with Audun Mehl’s seething, throat-tearing vitriol, is as delicate as a rabid buffalo in a live minefield (can buffalo get rabies? I digress). There’s even a distinctly blackened edge to the mayhem that makes the track cut all the more deep, giving the whole thing a thoroughly menacing and evil feel that I absolutely love.

“The Will of the Many” and the seething “Keelhaul” though, that’s where Equine Buffet really fuckin’ hits its D-Beat stride, the latter featuring some unnamed, but absolutely fucking scathing guest vocals that, along with a blistering blast attack, bring the intensity to a whole new level. It’s like Dani Filth after railing 3 back-to-back-to-back lines of coke and chasing it with a double shot of tequila, and I need more of it pronto. Both tracks hit like a goddamn heart attack and really showcase the band’s ability to go fully nuclear.

This split really ought to come with a Surgeon General’s warning, because HOLY SHIT. I feel like I need to dry out and go sober at an involuntary rehab facility for a few weeks just to get this thing out of my system. I may not have done actual crack or meth in my life, but who needs it when bands like these come together to inject this kind of absolute chaos into your veins. This one’s not for the feint of heart, but if you’re willing to take the ride, you’ll find yourself blitzed out of your mind with this absolute filth.

For over a decade now, Denmark’s Møl has been a steady force in the ever-growing work of Shoegaze-driven Black Metal, borrowing certainly from the likes of genre innovators like Cult of Luna and Deafheaven, though perhaps always more willing to reach more for the eccentricities of Converge’s melodic leanings of Rolo Tomassi. But as impressive as earlier releases certainly were, there was a sense that there was something more the band had left to prove.

Where 2018’s Jord (their first full-length) felt like a rock-solid Blackgaze record reminiscent of (and for my tastes, preferred to) Ghost Bath or ColdWorld, 2021’s Diorama felt like a band starting to forge their own path – adding more progressive and “post” elements to their sound in ways that felt more self-assured and authentic. Still, there were moments on that record where you could have said “ok, this is cool, but it’s just Deafheaven, right?” You’d need look no further than the earworm, but certainly derivative main melody of the opening track “Fraktur” to find one of many shining examples.

But as artists are (should be) wont to do, it seems Møl continued to evolve behind the scenes, not content to rest on their laurels until they developed a sound that, definitively, was their own. With DREAMCRUSH, it seems the band has not only achieved that, but has elevated their game to heights that should, deservedly, capture the attention of every extreme music fan on the planet. It’s a fucking masterpiece.

The thing that’s immediately noticeable about Dreamcrush is just how easy an album it is to listen to. From production and mastering, to the song structures and overall tone of the record, this is an album that begs prolonged listening sessions. There is, undoubtedly, a certain sector of the metal world that will sneer at this album’s accessibility, but I cannot fathom being turned off by a recording that sounds as lush and vibrant as this. From the opening crescendo of “DREAM,” which indeed sounds like the warming up of a pit orchestra at the beginning of some opera or grand stage performance, you know immediately that this is going to be something special, and after a bright, airy guitar intro introduces the band, you are very suddenly thrown right into the album in earnest, marked by vocalist Kim Song Sternkopf first of many higher-pitched screams and a storm of distorted guitars. But what really grabs you is the clean vocal section, accentuated by very pretty synth (or maybe it’s guitar, hard to say) hits that match the vocal melody. It is so simple, and yet so effective, showcasing a newer side to the band’s sound that is as welcome as it is intoxicating, marking a sense of balance that proves to be the hallmark of this entire album.

And indeed, “Sma Forlis” nails home the point, hitting first with a hard-hitting staccato delivery of fierce guitars, drums, and Sternkopf’s sneering vocal attack that borrows as much from early-2000s Metalcore as it does the more Blackened stylings we’re used to from the band. But before you think we’re going full-on blitzkrieg, the band pulls back into another brilliant clean section that lands like an eye to a category 5 hurricane – somewhat disorienting, but altogether welcome and strangely beautiful. Much like a hurricane, however, the brief respite only serves to make the impact of the back half of the storm hit all the more devastatingly, and at an economical 3 minutes 45 seconds, the band proves they’re capable of getting a lot done in a relatively small package.

The condensed delivery of the songs does serve the band really well on this album, as well. If there’s one criticism I’ll buy in a lot of Blackgaze/Atmospheric Black Metal, it’s the susceptibility to become over-bloated, or providing SO much space that the real impact of the songs is diminished. Not so much here, as Møl get right to the point on virtually every track, with standout singles “Young” and “Garland” each coming in well under the 4-minute mark (in fact, closer “CRUSH” is the only track to eclipse 5 minutes), and yet the band still has no trouble taking you on a journey with each and every effort. “Young” hits with such an uplifting, hopeful flair that I can’t help but think of a band like Astronoid as an apt comparison, even including one of the band’s rare instances of a really nice, if simple and effective guitar solo. But it’s the chorus’s main riff that really grabs your attention, and paired to the rumbling double bass attack of the verses, once again serves the duality of the album so beautifully.

Sternkopf’s impassioned vocal performance is once again a real highlight of this album, but this track, along with standouts like “A Former Blueprint” and “Mimic” proves that the work of Nikolai Hansen and Sigurd Kehlet absolutely cannot be ignored, pulling influences not just from the usual suspects, but also culling from places you may not expect. The verse guitars on “Garland” (which is, so far, my favorite song of a young 2026), as well as the opening riff of “Dissonance,” could very easily be mistaken for something recorded by Chevelle, and god damn if both aren’t effective in the context of these tracks.

What impresses me most is that everything on DREAMCRUSH seems so intentional and detail-driven. No part of this record is made without consideration of every other element put to recording, and the end result is an album that, despite its wide net of influences, feels wholly cohesive and complete. For the first time in Møl’s career, I don’t feel myself wanting more from the band. This feels very much like the band was meant to be all along, and I’m now just thrilled to see what the band is able to do with this newfound confidence and ability moving forward. Whether you’re already acquainted with the band or this is your first foray, I BEG of you to give DREAMCRUSH a listen. For me, it’s an instant classic, and perhaps even a new benchmark for the genre. Insane performance.

I can say with certainty that the country of Ukraine, home of 1914, would certainly rather turn back the clock to those simpler times before Vladdy-boy decided to turn the entire world on it’s head and do his damnedest to kickstart World War III.  The unceremonious and brutal deaths of some hundreds of thousands of soldiers, not to even mention the tens of thousands of civilians, since the War in Ukraine began in 2022, will tend to make most normal folks stand back and wish for a return to better days.

But despite the relative peace in Ukraine at that time, Where Fear and Weapons Meet still saw 1914 turning to a much more aggressive, blitzkrieg-like attack than found in the doomier, moodier beginnings. More blast beats, more shredding riffs, more carnage and chaos than ever before, even if it came a bit at the sacrifice of some of the dreariness and dread that made an album like The Blind Leading the Blind such a thoroughly compelling record.

So it’s probably of little surprise that, after 3 years of having to deal with Putin’s temper tantrum, the band comes out the gate with guns absolutely blazing. After staying the course as the band always does with an historical wartime song recording to intro the album, “1914 (The Siege of Przemysi)” gets right down to business with a relentless blast attack and dramatic tremolo-picked riffs that throw you right into the middle of the fray with no warning or time to prepare. Every member of the band seems completely focused on the task at hand (ultimate annihilation), and the attack seems as pinpoint-precise as the band has ever sounded. The result is intoxicating, if a little overwhelming, with a delicious mix of Blackened Death fury and down-and-dirty D-Beat rage giving at moments the feeling of laser-guided missile-like efficiency, and other times a more brutal, hand-to-hand melee of fists and bayonets, real down in the mud and guts type shit.

And for the start of second track “1915 (The Battle for the Zwinen Bridge), you’d be easily forgiven to think that Viribus Unitis was following the same all-out blitzkrieg formula of their prior offering, as the all-on-assault continues on the senses straight away. But midway through the track, we start to get a little bPart it of the magic that, to this reviewer, made some of their earlier work all the more compelling. This time, it starts in the form of some really powerful grouped chanting over a relentless blast that, in and of itself makes for an almost euphoric, chest-swelling listening experience. The band then doubles-down by slowing things right the fuck down, and bringing in some of the doomier, more bleak tones of The Blind Leading the Blind that I felt were lacking on the last record, ramping up to a gorgeous build that keeps those beautiful monastic chants front and center. It’s a really impactful moment early on in the record that suggests the band is bringing a much more layered and nuanced offensive to the battlefield this time around.

After the excellent, if not more straightforward barn burner in “1916 (The Sudtirol Offensive),” follow-up “1917 (The Isonzo Front)” seems to prove the point. Kicking off with another hailstorm start, the band then does a really nice job of varying up tempos, offering up a smattering of some of nastier riffs the band have ever offered, particularly around the 3:50 mark where guitarists Oleksa Fisyuk and Vitaliy Vyhovskyi really just let loose with a pummeling, thunderous sort-of breakdown that hits like a Paris Gun blast. It all makes for one of the strongest tracks on the album, leading nicely into a trilogy of tracks under the name “1918,” starting with “WIA (Wounded In Action).” Where the introduction of orchestral elements were the biggest bright spot and development in the band’s sound on WFAWM, the monastic chants found throughout this album have the same effect here, expertly deployed again on this track to set a really eerie tone the gives one of the doomiest tracks on the album even more life, not to mention the hysterical screaming in the background of the track while vocalist Dmytro Ternushchak repeats the line “SHELL-SHOCK” over and over again. I can practically feel myself loosing my goddamn mind during this passage, and I swear I mean that as a compliment. It’s another powerful moment in an album that stacks quite a few throughout.

Part 2 of the trilogy, “POW (Prisoner of War)” continues the doomy assault, further diving into the depressed state of mind one would presumably be feeling in such a precarious situation, a feeling that carries through into part 3, “ADE (A Duty to Escape).” Both tracks offer standout guest appearance from Christopher Scott (Precious Death) and Aaron Stainthorpe (High Parasite, ex-My Dying Bride) offering appropriately haunting clean vocals to the tracks, and along with album closer “1919 (The Home Where I Died)” (also featuring an incredible guest vocal spot by folk vocalist Jerome Reuter), it all comes together to complete a landmark moment for the band, who deliver their most poignant and impactful stretch of tracks the band has recorded to this point in their career.

Viribus Unitis is, arguably, 1914‘s biggest achievement to date. You can nitpick and say the album’s pacing suffers a touch from the last four tracks taking a decidedly slower approach, but you’d be hard pressed to deny the impact they ultimately leave on you as a listener. This band has always been able to capture all the ugly, glorious, painful and haunting aspects of war through their music, but I suspect recent traumas and struggles in their own home country made it all just hit that much closer to home, and the lasting effects are noticeable and powerful on this record. Once again, go ahead and reserve a spot for 1914 on a number of year-end lists, they’ll certainly be on mine.

Listen, I’m not naive. I didn’t come into Borderlands thinking that, just because the Under the Red Cloud/Queen of Time/Halo trilogy of album was wrapped up, that this new Amorphis record was suddenly gonna sound VASTLY different. The band has more or less been sticking to their distinct formula for making music for getting on about two decades now since Tomi Joutsen took over vocal duties, and though some may complain about the lack of progression or innovation from the band, I’ve always chosen to take it as an “if it ain’t broke” kind of situation, a mark of unmatched quality and consistency most bands could only dream to sustain over the course of their career.

But now… is Amorphis in on the joke? Or is this just fan service to celebrate the band’s history or something? Because the callbacks and similarities to the band’s back catalog found on Borderland are making me feel like maybe I’m the crazy one? Start just with the album art, which pulls clear inspiration from Tales from the Thousand Lakes, Silent Waters and Magic and Mayhem simultaneously. Shit, even the brick pattern on the bridge and the little symbol representing the “o” in Borderlands make me thing of bits and pieces of their last three records. AND THEN, the first goddamn track? It’s titled “The Circle.” THE FUCKING CIRCLE. Then there’s “Bones” (remember 2015’s “The Skull”?), “Light and Shadow” (2011’s “Battle for Light?!?”). I’m not insane, right???

Furthermore, once you get around to actually listening to the record, you’ll be forgiven if at times you don’t find yourself asking, “haven’t I heard this before?” Opener “Circle” comes right out of the gate sounding every bit like another Esa Holopainen-led record with very pretty, if familiar guitar work and Joutsen’s always top-notch range, clean vocal delivery, even if the vocal melody (particularly in the chorus) again feels like we’ve been all kinda been here before. The aforementioned “Bones,” while boasting a nice, relatively heavy (by Amorphis standards) main riff, also showcases some of those vaguely Egyptian/Arabic vibes strewn about the previous trifecta of albums, making one have to wonder if maybe the band hasn’t really quite closed the lid on that whole story.

And yet… I dunno, Amorphis still have a way of making the really familiar sound effervescent and alive? This album will face the same “rehash” criticism faced by every Amorphis record for decades, and somehow I still find myself getting drawn in to every new release. There’s an indelible energy attached to the band’s sound that I cannot help but be drawn to every single time I listen to them. The synth-led into the last part of “Dancing Shadow” genuinely gives me life, leading the way into the excellent “Fog to Fog,” with it’s simple but highly effective main riff and drumming that makes the song feel almost ritualistic, building up to yet another soaring chorus that brims with infectious light and energy I cannot help but get swept up in.

That lighter, more life-affirming kind of energy and vibe definitely dominates the front end of this album. There’s a brightness, particularly with the high-flying and dynamic synth work on display throughout Borderlands, that permeates the entire album and makes it feel fresh and exuberant.  The aforementioned “Dancing Shadow” is a prime example, along with another of the album’s first singles, “Light and Shadow,” both of which let Tomi’s cleans carry the day and set the tone of each track. But the back half definitely carries a bit more of a mysterious, if somewhat darker edge to it. On a record about the thin precipice between life and death, this is super clever and helps to tell a really vibrant story. While Tomi’s clean vocals take control in the first half, his amazing lows start to take charge over the latter, with tracks like The Strange” and “Despair” both offering a bit more of an edge to them. The former has a really catchy, chugging riff that balances nicely with Holopainen’s otherwise epic lead work.

“Tempest” offers a really nice change of pace, slowing things down a beat and bringing in a layer of really nice acoustic guitars that give the song some really warm depth that I really dig, especially as they lead up to one of the albums stronger choruses led by Joutsen’s bellowing harsh vocals, which still sound like some of the best in the game. The song also features a really beautiful bridge featuring more of those pretty acoustics, layered with some gorgeous strings that build up and up to a really epic synth/guitar solo tradeoff, marking one of the album’s true high points (this is, far an away, my favorite track on the album and one of the cooler songs the band has produced, in my mind). “The Lantern” also picks up some of those more progressive elements that add a really neat sense of wonder and mystery, emblematic of the album’s focus on navigating between the lands of the dead and the living.

At surface level, after the first initial listens of Borderlands, the easy conclusion is that this is just another Amorphis record, not much dissimilar to anything they’ve released in the last twenty years. But after repeat listens, you really start to hear all the little details and decisions that show a band making a concerted effort to make Borderlands it’s own unique listening experience. The other big difference with this record I’ve noticed after sitting with it for quite a bit (full disclosure, we received advanced streams of this one MONTHS ago), this is such an easy record to listen to. While Halo in some ways really challenged the listener with a heavier progressive presence, Borderlands instead relies on more simplified song structures – very much to its own benefit. It’s an album that begs repeat listens and encourages you to really sit with it from start to finish, allowing us to all really take in the full scope of what Amorphis set out to accomplish with this record without growing fatigued and overstimulated. Honestly, despite all odds, Borderlands is one of the band’s finest efforts, delivering everything we’ve all come to want and expect from Amorphis, but in a tighter and more complete package than maybe ever before. Somehow these guys keep ketting better, and I couldn’t be more grateful for it.

On the one hand, that album was such a blistering, impressive debut that, over a decade later, it still holds a place in my weekly (often daily) music rotations. It hit at such an intoxicating crossroads of breakneck Dragonforce-inspired Power Metal, Children of Bodom-esque Finnish Melodeath, and a uniquely-Canadian brand of just straight up epic metal ala Blackguard, Karkaos and others that scratch such a litany of itches that they become appealing to nearly any and all fans of Metal. Imagine if Wintersun were both unpretentious and unannoying, and have them pack an even heavier punch, that’s kinda what we’re looking at here. So yeah, I was definitely more than a little fucking pumped for this new album.

On the other hand, I was also REALLY nervous. Like, what if this was Caddy Shack II or Jaws: The Revenge? What if well enough should have been left alone? Sometimes it’s better just to kill off the great thing you love than let it linger and become a mere shadow of what it once was. And sure, the band did give us a tease in 2020 with 3 blazing tracks (including a blistering rerecording of “Betrayed by Thy King” which was phenomenal), but in many ways that just set the table for an even bigger disappointment. What if, after all the setbacks that kept the band from releasing new material, they just didn’t have “it” anymore? What if it had been beaten out of them?

OR, hear me out: What if it’s everything you couple possibly hope it would be?

What if, indeed.

From any sensible viewpoint, Whispers of War is an IMMENSE success. Expecting the band to have taken some gigantic leap forward, even given the time they’ve had to work on and perfect this thing, was always unlikely. Instead, WOW is like a grand reintroduction to these guys – a chance for longtime fans to become reacquainted, and for listeners new to the band to both come into this album on equal footing, because this has everything that made their prior release so completely compelling, but delivered in a shinier, more refined package from a production standpoint. It’s everything anyone could reasonable want.

From the foreboding intro of “Dawn of an Age,” Crimson Shadows show their ready to prove they haven’t lost a single step. A blitzkrieg Power Metal attack from guitarists Greg Rounding and Ryan Hofing certainly lead the charge, with riffs that would make Herman Li himself struggle to keep up, and the blistering dual guitar soloing these two continue to deploy is every bit as impressive and mind-blowing as anything you’d get from Dragonforce‘s legendary pair. Drummer Cory Hofing (also of Lutharo) is still an absolute beast, keeping the throttle fully planted into the ground the entire time in a seemingly endless attack of double-bass thunder.

But what has always separated Crimson Shadows from similar acts is the dual vocal attack of Jimi Maltais and Ryan Hofing. Jimi’s harsh vocals sound scathing as ever, continuing to give the band much more of an edge about them than other bands of this ilk. On “Guardians,” he sounds like a goddamn berserker owlbear, ripping and tearing through enemy ranks with reckless abandon, hitting with a lethal range of highs, mids and lows that are as dynamic as they are utterly terrifying (seriously, I would not want this dude mad and screaming at me like this). But where you find maybe the most improvement from this unit is guitarist Ryan Hofing’s clean vocals. While they were never a weak point of the band, he has clearly spent time rounding out some of the edges to make for a more impressive and compelling delivery, and goddamn if they don’t make you want to sing along with every chorus, like glorious battle cries on the eve of certain impending doom. His performances on “Defenders of the Crown” and “Embrace the Fire” will fill your chest with pride and power, while Jimi goes all scorched Earth in a way that will spur you into a frenzy quicker than seeing the lit beacons of friggin’ Gondor. The combination is completely intoxicating.

I’ll also say, it’s always so satisfying when bands who’ve flown under the radar as much as Crimson Shadows has for so long, get some support from more heralded talent – even sweeter when it comes from fellow countrymen. In this case, guest appearances by Cryptopsy‘s Matt McGachy (“Whispers of War”) and Unleash the Archer‘s Brittney Slayes (“Secrets of Our Time”) give this album the extra sense of occasion it so desperately deserves. The former is one of the album’s true highlights, expertly riding the line of blistering brutality and soaring, epic vitality. It is every bit the proverbial “makes you wanna run through a brick wall” song, which this album has NO shortage of. Perhaps none go harder than the amazingly titled “Battle Hard II: Battle Harder,” a follow-up to a fan-favorite from their debut album in 2012, one that delivers everything longtime fans could ever want from this song: a beautiful, epic piano and guitar intro, that gives way to a friggin’ FURY of blast beats and finger-shredding riffs that will whip the entire Earth into one giant mosh pit if given enough amplification. Not only is it an instant classic for the band, but it brings in a bottom-third of the album that is strong as any I’ve heard in quite some time, including Brittney Slayes’ fantastic cameo on the dynamic “Secrets of Our Time,” which features a surprising and totally fucking rad old-school metal riff halfway through the song that catches you completely by surprise, but also gives you an instant stank-face with approval.

In reality, there are no drastic changes or big sweeping surprises here. If you loved Kings Amongst Men, goddamn are you gonna love this one. If you’re new to this band, goddamn are you gonna love Whispers of War. Then go back and listen to Kings Amongst Men and fall in love with that album. THEN go back and listen to Glory on the Battlefield and start to wonder “how the fuck has this band not become a bigger thing by now?” because I can’t figure it out, either. It makes no sense. This band is too talented and, most importantly, too goddamn fun not to force their way into every single metal heart on the planet. So quit fooling around and get your hands on this one ASAP, and join the goddamn battle. We are so back, baby, and so is Crimson Shadows. FIGHT ON!

Also, Alestorm made a song about a girl with really big boobs. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?

Alestorm is now (in the United States) legal to drink, this being their 21st year of existence. Hard to believe! But it’s kind of poignant. A band that has spent it’s developmental years with the nearly impossible task of being taken seriously while also spearheading the very niche and subjective Pirate Metal subgenre, now find themselves true veterans of the scene and, for the sake of this comparison, fully self-aware adults. If this band was ever trying to actually being taken seriously, The Thunderfist Chronicles is doing nearly everything possible to ensure listeners know that was never the point. The vast majority of this album is so, SO dumb, and it would be so stupid if it were any other way.

Sure, opener “Hyperion Omniriff” may carry a more aggressive tone than perhaps we’ve become accustomed to from these Scots of recent, but the earworm chorus including the line “… are you a c#*t, or do you. Drink. Rum??” should be more than enough to dissuade anyone from thinking these guys are suddenly becoming philosophical in their old age. And sure, the band puts some growth and evolution on display by further blending their Folk/Pirate metal roots with more modern, bombastic riffs and drum work, not to mention further embracing club-friendly electronic elements that only serve to drive home the point that Alestorm is more than comfortable appealing to a wider audience, making the outrageous party they’re hosting that much more an inclusive and massive an event, a point driven even further by the absolutely ridiculous “Banana,” an ode to Banana Daiquiris and drinking rum and all things piracy with fully integrated EDM elements and more liberal use of C-Bombs throughout to land an even more immediate buzzworthy impact. It’s a song that would just as easily become a TikTok trend as it would become the party anthem of the next 10,000 Tons of Metal cruise and, you know what? I’m here for every second of it. Bring on the fruity, tropical drinks.

And I mean, come on. “Killed to Death by Piracy” and the absolutely stupid “Mountains of the Deep” (it’s the one about the big boobs) are absolute bangers in every essence of the word. Is there clever songwriting at play? Absolutely! Are there actual displays of legitimate musicianship on display? Sure! I guess? Honestly, who cares?? I’m having such a ball banging my head to songs about large-chested women and living the free-wheeling life of a pirate, AND it’s all helping me escape the harsher realities of my actual life to such a successful degree that hearing some of the more intricate progressive elements of a Nekrogoblikon cover in “Goblins, Ahoy!” (what an insane sentence to write) and blistering riffs of “Frozen Piss 2” (seriously what the fuck even is this?) are just bonus points on top of this gem of an album. Hell, the 17-minute “Mega-Supreme Treasure of the Eternal Thunderfist” is pretty much as epic a Sabaton song as you’ve ever heard, with not even a quarter of the level of seriousness. I think that’s incredible. I think that deserves all of our applause and admiration.

So like, I dunno man? What do you want me to tell you? In all likelihood, you’re already either fully on board with The Thunderfist Chronicles  or you want absolutely fucking nothing to do with it. To be fair, either opinion is valid and I totally get why this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. But subjectively, you’re lame if it’s not. This is really fun. Have more fun in your life before we all get bombed into oblivion or whatever other fresh hell this world has cooking up for us. Live your secret pirate fantasies and get on board.

So I’m willing to forgive the fellas for all of those words they just kinda threw together here. Like, sure, it is a complete and, with a little patience, coherent statement, but it kinda reminds me of corporate lingo in the way that it uses so many additional and unnecessary words just to say “Waking Nightmares.” That’s it! That’s all they had to say. When I go to drop a deuce, I don’t say I’m “Ejecting the Spent Remains of Otherwise Masticated and Digested Foreign Substance.” I took a shit.

Anyway, you’re not here for the autism you wanna know if this album is good or not. Right.

At this point, it might be fair to assume Katatonia certainly doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, but the recent bombshell departure of Anders Nystrom suddenly sees the band, Jonas Renske especially, under a new and unexpected microscope. I also did opine that 2023’s Sky Void of Stars was one of the best and most complete efforts the band had put together in quite some time – certainly not far removed from the darker, more goth-leaning sort of melodic rock/metal this era of Katatonia has settled into as of late, but a much more focused and memorable version of it for sure.

The first thing you’ll probably notice with NAEOTWS is that, perhaps not actually that shockingly, the departure of Nystrom seems fairly negligible. Certainly, this is owed in large to the prevailing notion that Renske has pretty much been the captain at the helm of Katatonia for a bit now. All the hallmarks are here – the startling and off-putting sudden start to the album on opener “Thrice” which, once again, somehow caught me off guard and ill-prepared for the band to get right down to business. It is however, another in a long-running streak of killer album openers, and showcases the band’s more progressive leanings in stellar order, with clever, evolving riff work from new guitarists Nico Elgstrand and Sebastian Svalland. Granted, it’s fair to wonder how much input either had into the riffs or songwriting but, either way, the signature Katatonia tone and timing is all instantly recognizable. You could remove Renske’s vocals from the track altogether and there’s still be no question who recorded it.

A big part of that “Katatonia sound” at this point is also unquestionably the drumming of Daniel Moilanen, now having been with the band for nearly a decade and having established a style all his own that goes such a long way to setting the tone of each record he’s been a part of. His ability to carry the pace on tracks like “Wind of No Change,” “Lilac” and “Warden” where good stretches are left to him to carry the load is impressive and necessary to the entire picture Renske is painting. I point out these three in particular as they are real standouts on the album, the first having such an immense presence with chanted backup vocals and sturdy, heavy riffing that all come together to feel like I’ve stumbled into some kind of cult ritual where, I have a sneaking suspicion they’ll be “borrowing” some of my blood. “Warden” features one of the album’s catchiest choruses that will find appeal with metalheads and goths alike, (once again) brilliantly bridging the gap between the two in a way it seems only Katatonia is this capable of.

And really, for better or worse (depending on your perspective) that whole “this is obviously Katatonia” vibe is prevalent through the entire album. The guitars, using whatever effect it is they’re using on on “The Light Which I Bleed,” are unique and obvious to this band alone. The pacing of the album, the tone and ebbs and flows, I can’t really say any of it is unpredictable. For me, this is not a complaint. Much like my love for bands like Amorphis and Children of Bodom and Mors Principium Est, you’re likely never going to catch me complaining about getting more of a sound I love. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a band finding their lane, especially if it’s so unique to them, and sticking with it so long as they’re still keeping the songs engaging – and Katatonia certainly have done that again here on (insert ridiculous name here).

So if you’re wondering what life after Nystrom sounds like for Katatonia, the truth is, it sounds a whole heck of a lot like it has for getting on the past couple decades. If it wasn’t clear before, this is now Jonas Renske’s ship to steer. For those of us who’ve been on board, the seas are steady and clear. If you’ve been looking for a reason to jump ship, grab a life jacket and take a nose dive, I guess. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

San Francisco’s Nite emerged right smack dab in the middle of that pandemic abyss in 2020, and for a new band trying to make it’s mark on the world of Heavy Metal in the middle of such weird times, I certainly came away hugely impressed with their debut album Darkness Silence Mirror Flame, a simultaneously catchy and raw throwback of a record that culled equally from the traditional sounds of Judas Priest and Diamond Head, as it did from the epic, blackened soul of Bathory. It was as confident and self-assured a debut as I can remember, and certainly set the stage for what was sure to be an impressive career moving forward, proven by a pretty quick step up from the smaller (but no less great) Creator-Destructor Records, to the big boys at the legendary Season of Mist for their sophomore follow-up, Voices of the Kronian Moon – an ambitious concept album that was also written during the grips of the covid pandemic. Truthfully, while I still do dig that record and at the time saw it as a step forward for the band, over time I kept finding myself going back to their debut far more often than I did Voices. Something about the more raw, potent energy of Darkness… just held a tighter grip on me.

I bring all of this up because a funny thing happened after releasing those two albums: Nite got on the road, in front of way more crowds, and started learning something about how those records translated to a live setting – started figuring out what really worked and what really didn’t in that kind of setting. And I’m delighted to say that those lessons were put to extremely good use, because the energy that seemed to maybe go a bit missing on their last record? It’s back. In a big way. Cult of the Serpent Sun, put simply, fuckin rules.

From the jump on the album’s title track, there is a noticeable sense of increased urgency and confidence that practically oozes off the opening guitar lick, and what follows is truly a standout moment of the band’s career to date. The deep, chanting “OOFs” drip with malice, and even lead man Van Labrakis, whose vocals I felt were maybe a bit too one-dimensional on their previous effort, carry more assertive tone this time around. He hasn’t exactly transformed into a vocal virtuoso here, but there’s an extra depth to his growling rasp that does a much better job of grabbing your attention and making sure you know he means business this time around. Everything just feels like there’s more bite – even the fantastic riffing and solo work, which have been the band’s strongest qualities to this point, are taken to new heights, helped by a fantastic mix that sees every individual performance by the band coming through crystal clear and with real purpose.

Follow-up “Skull” proves the band’s goal of making sure these songs will carry over beautifully into a live setting, is no joke. The tight, focused, even at times (dare I say) simple delivery makes for an incredibly fun track that’s so easy to latch on to and enjoy just for the quality of the musicianship on display alone. The chugging main riff, the brilliantly harmonized guitars of the pre-chorus, and the absolute doozy of a guitar solo here – none of them are going to blow you away with insane technicality, but each will put a devilish grin on your face as you bask in their unquestionable glory. If the opening track was a new benchmark for the band, “Skull” simply takes it up a peg and sets the tone that Nite are not fucking around here, proven AGAIN immediately on “Crow (Fear the Night),” which harkens back to their fantastic debut, but just sharpens every edge just a little bit more. And you can’t can’t help but get caught up in this sing-along chorus, making for an epic, anthemic track assured to become a fan-favorite at every gig.

But it’s not all aggression on Cult of the Serpent Sun, either. “The Mystic,” perhaps appropriately, is a haunting affair – opting instead to create a dreadful atmosphere, lead by some cleaver vocal manipulation that truly does make Labrakis sound every bit some creepy, mysterious mystic hidden away in some dripping cave. It gives me goosebumps in the best way, proving the band is still more than willing to continue expanding their sound and go in some interesting new directions. The same can be said with “Tarmut,” which blends in a little more of the band’s Heavy Metal aggression, but still delivers a diverse, layered effort that showcases the band versatility without sacrificing the band’s signature tone. Also, the bluesy, evocative solo here is just phenomenal, brimming with real emotion and heart that you can’t help but get kinda swept away with.

But at the end of the day, it’s the anthems that are the real showstoppers here. The energetic, almost upbeat dual guitar attack of the mighty-as-fuck “The Last Blade” owes as much to the likes of Thin Lizzy and Molly Hatchet as it does to the best of Judas Priest and Saxon, making for a real throwback classic that, somehow, again marks yet another high point in the band’s career (and a new personal favorite). That whole feeling of being in a sweet-as-hell wizard and dragon-painted van, blasting down the highway that I felt on the first album? It’s back in spades, and that’s even before getting into the absolute glory that is “Carry On,” packed with soaring, epic riffs and driving drums that make you want to stamp down even harder on the accelerator and throw every bit of caution to the wind. I needed these tracks in my life. I needed this album.

What I’m getting at though all of this, if you couldn’t already tell, is that Cult of the Serpent Sun is every bit the celebration of all things heavy metal promised on the band’s first album, but delivered with the kind of gusto and confidence of a band who firmly knows who they are and what they’re about, and we should all be grateful just to be here to hear it all come together. This album is an absolute triumph, and unquestionably positions Nite as one of the premiere flag wavers of the new Heavy Metal scene. Join the cult and enjoy the all the fruit that it bears.

(Pictured: An American male. Obviously)

There’s just no getting around it. I am what I am. And despite the fact that this country is currently making it actively more difficult to enjoy every single one of these mentioned things (and plenty more), I remain steadfast in my pride for so much of what America actually can offer when its not getting duped into handing the keys to the kingdom over to a fake-genius South African billionaire Nazi and his soggy orange puppet (Yes, I know you have eyes on this Elon. No, I cannot begin to care anymore).

One thing America’s always been really goddamn good at? Party metal. And by that I mean the Scissorfights, the Alabama Thunderpussys, the Kyusses and Sasquatches of the world who blend the best parts of Stoner Metal, Punk, Hardcore and straight up Hard Rock sensibilities into a raucous, sludgy concoctions purpose-built with beer, bud and backyard wrestling all on top of mind. It’s like, our thing, man. It’s what we do best.

… but what if it wasn’t?

Raging Speedhorn are not American. In fact, they’re a bunch of friggin’ Brits. And yeah, Teeth of the Diving may well be led by our own Union Jack’d Erik T, but even he abandoned those royal-loving bastards decades ago in favor of that sweet American freedom and liberty (we don’t have to get into how he’s feeling about that decision NOW). This isn’t supposed to be their thing. STAY IN YOUR LANE YA FUCKIN BEANS-FOR-BREAKFAST DWEEBS.

Alas, for over 25 years Raging Speedhorn have been doing their absolute damnedest to earn their honorary red, white and blue cards and, frankly, have been pretty gosh dang successful. Hell, their name is in reference to taking speed and getting raging boners. Add in a screeching eagle and a revving V8 motor and I can’t possibly think of anything much more American than that. Now they release an album called Nightwolf sporting an incredible depiction of Teen Wolf himself shotgunning a beer and, I just don’t know anymore. My fellow patriots need to do something to reset the scales.

It doesn’t help when the album comes barreling in with “Blood Red Sky,” featuring a barrage of catchy, earworm riffs and gruff, no-fucks-given vocals announce their arrival with killer intent. Even more-to-the-point, follow up “Buzz Killer” gets right to the matter-at-hand with some killer Thin Lizzy–inspired guitar licks, crowd-inspiring gang vocals, and one hell of a great, simple breakdown sure to turn any backyard hootenanny into an absolute rager. The fantastic refrain of “DON’T KILL THE BUZZ” is enough to make me grab for another beer long after I’ve had far too many and keep the mayhem churning. Bring on the mud wrestlers.

But this is just the start of the ruckus RSH are bringing to the party. “Every Night’s Alright For Fighting,” a tongue-in-cheek nod to legendary countrymate Elton John, may well end the party anthem of the year, chock full of simple, no-nonsense riffing that forces your heart rate into a frenzy, and again featuring a killer, doomy breakdown that would be just as well served in a junkyard as it would at a proper venue. Maybe even moreso. It’s an absolute doozy that earns your fervor through sheer force of will, and I wish all good luck in trying to resist it’s fuck-all charms. Similarly, the album’s title track “Night Wolf” takes a fucking monster riff straight out of Scissorfight’s wheelhouse and delivers a swaggering, anthemic track that will earn just as many fists in the air as it will across the chins of anyone that happens to piss you off while the track is anywhere in earshot.

And if you think there’s any respite from this absolute dog fight of an album, I urge you to heed caution, because it just does not relent. “DOA” and my personal favorite, “Comin’ in Hard” continue to slam the pedal to the floor with reckless abandon, the latter featuring a sweet little banjo riff mixed in with the guitar assault just to keep things extra fuckin crispy. God forbid you ever find yourself in a West Virginia holler being chased down by a group of 3-toothed hill folk carrying garden tools, but if you ever do find yourself in this unfortunate scenario, I hope you’ve got this track to spur you on away from that hillbilly horde. If that doesn’t give you the motivation to get a move on, I dunno what will.

I know it’s a cop out to say it’s pointless to belabor the point of “Night Wolf,” but I’m pretty sure Raging Speedhorn aren’t looking to a whole lot of explanation or platitudes for their work. They just want you to crack open a beer, rip a bong or a line off the back of some questionable toilet, and get down to fuckin business with this album.  I’m not even ashamed to say this is the most American album so far of 2025, and damned if I won’t use it as fuel to fight off the fuckwits in this country who apparently have no problem letting it become a playground for Vladdy Putin and the billionaire elite. With this album blasting in my ears, I feel just about ready to take on anything.

Maybe it was just dumb geographic bias, or maybe it was an aesthetic thing? I dunno, but the West Coast-based acts that came out of that movement at the time just didn’t quite hold the same appeal to me. I’m not gonna go so far to say as I didn’t enjoy the As I Lay Dyings and Bleeding Throughs, or even somewhat the Atreyus and Eighteen Visions’ of the scene, but save for a few exceptions (the criminally underrated Himsa) they just never carried the same weight for me as a fan. And to be clear, there was definitely a different vibe that came from west coast metal and metalcore at the time – a certain flair for the dramatic and more Emo-leaning tendencies that, at the time, just didn’t hold as much appeal to me (not that New Jersey and Long Island didn’t provide plenty bands of similar ilk but, I dunno, I was a dumbass teenager. Don’t ask me to explain myself).

But as I’ve grown older and less bitchy, I’m not gonna lie – classic bangers like BT‘s “On Wings of Lead” and “Love Lost in a Hail of Gunfire” have aged like a fine cheddar (the re-recordings they released a couple years ago sound fucking great, by the way). And while I admit up front that my familiarity with the band’s work following 2003’s breakthrough This is Love, This is Murderous is REAL minimal, some more recent output like 2022’s Rage EP and a track called “War Time” first released in 2023 both showcased a band that maybe still had something left in the tank to give. Even still, I never would have suspected that a new album from Bleeding Through in 2025 was gonna do much of anything to tickle my pickle in any meaningful way.

WRONG. Holy shit wrong. Holy shit is this album vicious.

The throwback vibes hit with full force right out the gate on “Gallows” which, as it absolutely should, starts with a hard-as-fuck sample of Saruman from The Two Towers claiming “… we have only to remove those who oppose us” which truly just rockets me straight back to 2002 and sets the table perfectly for what follows – in this case a surprisingly ferocious attack of shredding riffs and machinegun drumming that pummel the senses (at one point there’s even a friggin’ GNARLY blast section that absolutely obliterates). This invigorated, full-throttle blitzkrieg however, is beautifully and expectedly balanced with a big, melodic chorus that’s easy to sing along with and invites the kind of mass appeal Bleeding Through and bands of that generation are known for. The band’s knack for being being both catchy and catastrophic is still operating at full capacity, proven fully when they launch into the first of this album’s cache of truly atomic breakdowns. Of course, why settle for one when you could have three, right? And because you’re Bleeding Through, why not make sure each is layered with Marta Demmel’s signature creepy, organ-heavy keys that make them sound straight out of the depths of Mordor itself? They add a foreboding, evil presence that simply can’t be replicated by just and other metalcore act, and it’s a true joy to hear them again.

From there, Bleeding Through make no bones about who they are and what they’re about – with “Our Brand is Chaos” seemingly looking to make that point ABUNDANTLY clear. The anthemic opening chant of “Fuck with us and find out” pretty much says it all, and while I’m sure some will mock or cringe at the simplicity of the messaging, I for one feel an absolute sincerity and confidence that can only come from a band who has been toiling at their craft and defying the odds for now nearly 25 years. To that point, the band unleashes yet more punishing, pounding breakdowns and yet another round of absolutely filthy blasting that show a band willing to evolve and take some of those newer deathcore elements to solidify a sound that sounds in equal parts classic and utterly modern. New lead guitarist Brandon Richter (actually known more for former drumming stints with Motionless in White and Dawn of Ashes) makes an immediate impact as well, adding some genuinely impressive leads and solos that take Bleeding Through‘s work to a whole new level.

Nine is actually the first full release with both Richter and John Arnold on guitars and I gotta say, the fresh blood is paying off in spades, and an immense amount of credit certainly has to go to vocalist Brandon Schieppati, who is proving the benefit of taking care of one’s self for the benefit of the long haul. The dude sounds as ferocious as ever, and when paired with the dummy-good riffs of this guitar duo on tracks like “Hail Destruction” and “I Am Resistance,” the end result is, frankly, pretty stunning. The latter of those two tracks also showcases one of my other favorite elements of the record; the collaborations – in this case a guest vocal appearance from Comeback Kid‘s Andrew Neufeld which fucking smokes with an unrelenting energy that almost even makes you think of the likes of Blackguard or Crimson Shadows, especially with the blasting/shredding violins section that give this track a nearly folk metal flair, and even more so when another of Richter’s really great solos enters the mix. It’s a really unique track in the band’s repertoire than honestly just sounds fantastic. Ditto to the re-recorded “War Time” which packs just as furious a punch, and also features Shadows Fall‘s Brian Fair on guest vocals that makes it feel like even more of an occasion. We even get a fuckin sweet guest guitar spot on “Lost in Isolation” from God Forbid guitarist Doc Coyle (which, to keep score, Comeback Kid, Shadows Fall and God Forbid make up a list of my favorite acts not just of that time period of heavy music, but just in general. It’s like Bleeding Through did all of this specifically for me).

What Nine feels like to me, at the end of the day, is both a celebration of an era of music that I hold near and dear to my heart, but also a steadfast and resolute promise to keep carrying the torch into and through an altogether new era, and with the likes of Shadows Fall and Killswitch Engage releasing new music, it’s more than a little exciting for me to hear some of the older guard come back in swinging with such a vengeance (too bad Tim Lambesis had to go and fuck up As I Lay Dying for everyone). This album is absolutely no joke (despite it’s somewhat unfortunate album art), and whether or not you’re an early 2000’s metalcore kid at heart like I am, I cannot recommend enough you give this a shot, because there’s a wide net of really fucking good stuff here for a lot of people to enjoy. Excuse me while I now go back and see what else from this band I’ve been sleeping on for the last 20 years.

And I mean come on! Look at that gnarly friggin’ cover art! While it can never be questioned what Ensiferum‘s contribution to the world of Folk Metal has been, it’s also fair to look at the band’s earlier work and wonder what the message they were trying to send the world was with their first string of album covers. Lots of white-bearded dudes, just kinda standing around in fantastical landscapes. At least on Victory Songs they had him looking pretty mighty on horseback, but honestly it all sorta looked like some medieval warrior showing slides of his vacation around Middle Earth.

Does cover art actually matter to the quality of work on an album? I mean, no. Obviously not. But I think it’s fair to say it can serve as a real tone-setter, and Winter Storm, I reiterate, is clearly not fucking around. This dude and his wolf friend? They’re tearing fools apart. They’re on the war path. They’re clearly making it a problem for these jamokes that they decided to wake up today.

And right away on “Winter Storm Vigilantes,” Ensiferum is hitting with the heavy artillery. Mighty-as-fuck guitar melodies ring in the track with a confident burst, with Petri Lindroos deploying all his tricks of the trade with familiar raspy vocals, and Pekka Montin’s soaring Power Metal singing leading the troops into battle. But it’s when the band launches into it’s ferocious trademark thrash folk riffing that it all becomes clear that the band is ready to take it full throttle. Fire up the circle pits and strap for battle because by the time Ensiferum launches into their full-band-backed chanting I’m about ready to burst through some wall of ice, swords blazing and ready for blood.

After the band flexes it’s more Power Metal-focused muscles on “Long Winter of Sorrow and Strife,” “Fatherland” lays back down on the accelerator with more ferocious riffing, and an all-timer of a chorus that, though I’m sure some weird war-painted right-winger will try to use this to make some overtly racist video edit on YouTube (we obviously can’t have nice things), should bring a welcome swell of vigor and might to any listener’s chest. It’s a doozy you just can’t help but sing along with, probably whilst raising some stein of beer or mead in celebration.

The sense of growth and confidence in the band’s songwriting is shown in spades on the more melancholy but really lovely “Scars in my Heart” (featuring Madeleine Liljestam of Eleine) which has the band throwing down a heart-wrenching tale of love lost and tragedy (that’s right it’s not all fields of battle and glory here, heathens). Even the more mid-paced “The Howl” (which, funnily enough, with it’s catchy keyboard melodies doesn’t sound so far removed from a Powerwolf track) is delivered with such confidence and strong songwriting that once again you can’t help but get just as whipped up in its powerful charm. If you’re not indoctrinated into the Ensiferum army  by the time album closer “Victorious” comes marching through your headphones or speakers, I’m sorry to say there’s no resistance. You’re going to war whether you like it or not. A clear throwback sledgehammer, this is the kind of metal anthem that we all knew Ensiferum perfectly capable of, but will no less get your dead heart racing with Heavy Metal pride.

The gauntlet thrown down with Thalassic as the band’s sort-of reinvigoration has proven to be just the start of Ensiferum’s reclamation of the Finnish Folk Metal throne. The vets have come back swinging and thoughts in prayers to any who dare step in their way. My soundtrack for the oncoming, inevitable fury of another northern winter has dropped just in time, and damned if I’m not good and ready to face it head-on.

2024 has been a friggin’ WILD ride for the world of metal and extreme music. Like it or not, the spotlight has perhaps never shone brighter on our little deranged corner of the music world than it is right now. Ignore for a moment legendary stalwarts like Metallica, Iron Maiden or even Slipknot who’ve had literal decades to build worldwide success, and look to more recent phenoms like Spiritbox and Sleep Token who have appeared on some of the industry’s biggest festival lineups and making genuinely impressive waves on Billboard’s Top 200 list (regardless of your personal opinion of either act, it’s still alarming to see these two on a list where the next heaviest representatives are The Black Album and System of a Down‘s Toxicity). And it’s not even just the acts more willing to embrace a poppier, more radio friendly sound, either – with bands like Lorna Shore and Knocked Loose bringing a level of intensity and extremity to bigger audiences than anyone would have thought possible even 10 years ago. Think whatever way you want about either of those bands, objectively they would both be utterly terrifying to the non-metalhead.

Of course, with this increased attention comes a wave of the uninitiated, folks who have neither the context or understanding of what exactly it is they’re hearing. As such, we now have folks on twitter discovering Cannibal Corpse and summarily trying to “cancel” them once they’ve read some of their lyrics . And now, perhaps even more famously, MAGA types have been using Gojira‘s performance at the Paris Olympics’ opening ceremony as part of proof that the International Olympic Committee is in fact a cabal of Satanists looking to spread propaganda to an international audience.

I know that these are outrageously irrational people, but it’s goddamn 2024. I can’t believe this is a real plot line happening in the world. Never mind the fact that I haven’t heard a peep from anyone complaining about Anthony Kiedis (The Red Hot Chili Peppers), who has VERY openly admitted to unknowingly, AND THEN KNOWINGLY fucking a 14 year old girl when he was in his 20s, being in the closing ceremony – the fact that folks think they gotta worry about GOJIRA? Who are only a vague threat to poachers? No. I won’t have this.

What I propose is this – Go right ahead and bring out Snoop, Dre, Kendrick Lamar, any and all of the LA rap elite to represent the host city for the 2028 ceremony. This is fair and good. But this isn’t just about LA, IT’S ABOUT AMERICA, GOD DAMN IT. Fuck rolling out Weezer or Maroon 5 or the live, rotting husks of Axl Rose and Guns N’ Roses. You really wanna get people’s attention? Let’s get real weird with it. Let’s lean all the way in to this new Satanic panic, fly over to the other coast, and bring in South Carolina’s heathen horde of Black Thrash, Demiser to show the world a real dose of goat-headed, unabashedly American fury.

U-S-A! U-S-A!

For those unaware of my personal love for these southern sons, Demiser released my absolute favorite album of 2021 with Through the Gate Eternal. Hell, I feel pretty comfy calling it one of my favorite albums of the last decade. It’s not that Demiser are necessarily bringing anything new to the table, it’s just the conviction and energy with which they delivered their brand of Blackened Speed and Thrash that won me over completely, and it’s remained a constant presence in my rotation ever since. So now in comes the ever-important sophomore album which is always forced to face increased scrutiny and expectations – and without wasting any more of your time with my nonsense I will tell you this meets, and exceeds every single one of them. In a world gone fucking bonkers, I think I can comfortably rely on Demiser to continue bringing the goods.

Working in their favor is the tongue-in-cheek attitude that made Through the Gate Eternal so endearing. Slave to the Scythe, if anything, leans further into the fuck-all mindset of blistering guitars, hellish themes and pedal-to-the-metal delivery. It’s a clinic in not taking yourself too seriously AS SERIOUSLY AS FUCKING POSSIBLE. Opener “Feast” comes barreling out the mouth of hell like an absolute fiend, going right back to the well of familiar scorching riffs and ostentatious leads that seem to take the very idea of “balls out” in it’s most literal sense. I can only imagine a lot of on-stage thrusting going on with guitarists Gravepisser and Phalomancer as the dive bomb away on your eardrums with reckless abandon. And of course they haven’t abandoned the anthemic, metal-as-hell bridges the band is so good at delivering. There’d be riots if they had (or at least one. By me). I don’t care how simple it is, when they break that shit down with a bellowing “OUGH” at the 2:33 mark,” it makes me feel all sorts of ways I’m not sure you really want me to divulge. If it doesn’t fill you with the same kind of headbanging, chest-swelling fizz as it does with me, I’m not sure we have much to talk about moving forward.

The mayhem does not let up for one second, either (save for “Interlude” which is honestly just a very considerate intermission to let you collect yourself, maybe grab a cig). Title track “Slave to the Scythe” hits with all the hell-born fury of a demon horde, armed with yet another cache of killer riffs and screaming guitar solos, but still never venturing so far as to question whether the band is in on the joke. Even if you think the band has lost the plot, “Carbureted Speed” will change that immediately. When asked, guitarist Gravepisser says the song is about “doing cocaine and riding choppers.” That’s it. There’s no subterfuge, there’s no beating around the bush, it’s an old school thrash anthem about being blitzed out of your skull and bombing down the road hailing the gods of leather and steel. I’m compelled to say I am not here to condone these acts, but the track is just as as balls-to-the-wall fun as the subject matter calls for, the kind of thing that would give Lemmy himself a smirk and a stiffy (despite all the whisky and coke… and coke). To that end, “Phallomancer the Phallomancer” continues the band’s tradition of biographical tracks (See “Demiser the Demiser” from Through the Gate Eternal), which buries the accelerator into the floor even further, pummeling with the sort of breakneck speed that only further incites visions of circle pits and hailing gunfire. It’s metal for the sake of metal and nothing more, and it’s all the better for it.

The album’s second half following “Interlude” does perhaps lean a little further into the darkness. Less “We’re gonna fucking rage and probably die together in a glorious fire bomb of carnage” and a little more “Hi I’m here to murder you,” if you will. But still in a super fun way! The guitar tones of “Total Demise” and the mighty-as-hell closer “In Nomine Baphomet” cut with just a little more bite and sinister intent, reminding the listener these are still some dudes not to be taken lightly, that as campy and grin-inducing as the whole package may be, the band’s edge is still plenty sharp to cause you a whole mess of problems. Granted, “Hell is Full of Fire” still begins with an outrageous falsetto and familiarly finger-shredding riffage, but we’re getting right down into the guts of demonic warfare – of asserting all of Hell’s thunderous force over the God-fearing and holy. Everything your mom ever told you about the perils of Heavy Metal – it’s all here in full, blasphemous glory, and it’s making no apologies for it. I love it more than words can really express.

I’ll admit this much – you’re going to listen to Slave to the Scythe and likely think “this really didn’t merit this long a review.” You’re not wrong. But  damn it, I just can’t help myself – this album just has me to hyped to be too business-like in this review. No, the band have not expanded upon any of the ideas presented from their first album. Yes, this is a good thing. Demiser is letting their freak flags fly baby, and I’m fucking here for it. I will continue to be here for it as long and far as this coke-binged, heathenistic ride will take them. If the world is suddenly more interested in peering into the darker corners of the Metal world, then I say lets blast the doors off and let them come get a load of this shit. Who knows what kind of hell on earth it could unleash.

But since climate change is most assuredly a thing (don’t @ us this is our podium), and apparently winter is just going to continue to drag on right up until now when Summer decides to just unload all its bullshit on us? We might as well still be able to acquire the kind of soundtrack fit for such barren, morose times, and goddamned if Canada’s (of course) Ischemic isn’t here to play ball.

Let’s start with the one red flag that might steer some folks away from Condemned to the Breaking Wheel: this is one of those weird in-between releases that could be called an EP given it’s 4-track length, but the total run time hits a shade over half an hour, which honestly? That’s more than enough if you’re dedicated to those 7-10-minute song lengths. You’re really asking a lot of humanity’s ever-shrinking attention spans to deal with that much Death Doom in one sitting. Let’s give some credit where it’s due – their last 4-track release (whatever you wanna call it), clocked in at over 50 friggin’ minutes, including the 22+ minute colossus “Scattering Garden.”

That’s a significant shave-down! And the results of the weight shed are actually pretty significant, with CTTBW presenting a much more focused effort than it’s self-titled predecessor, a point made very well on the title track opener which, despite its 9+ minutes, doesn’t feel nearly that long, treading along at a mighty Bolt Thrower-esque rumble and barreling head-first into battle with a low end-heavy attack befitting the track’s doomed, inescapable title – sounding at times akin to the likes of 1914 (before the orchestrations). Yeah, the band do throw some glacial doom breakdowns into the mix which grind things to a bit of a halt, but they pop up in spots that seem well thought-out and natural to the track’s progression, not just thrown willy-nilly to check a box. The results are both impressive, and oppressive.

For those of you new to the band, I gotta tell ya – in an ever-growing world of women-led Death Metal acts, vocalist Isabelle Tazbir needs to be recognized for the guttural, positively cavewoman performance she lays out here. She really is at the top of her game, her bellowing growls seething with absolute malice the entire way through and setting the tone for this bleak and cavernous affair. Where the opening track got things started leaning into the Death Metal half of their sound, “Tomb Fog” goes straight for the Doom sense of dread and misanthropy, and Tazbir’s vocals fit the vibe like a moth-eaten, cobwebbed glove. That said, it’s not all about the morose and macabre – this is a really well-balanced track, as are the whole of the album’s 4 tracks. The band have a real knack for knowing when to kick things into high gear with blasting fury, and when to kick the tank back into grinding, mid-paced destruction – often times (as is the case with this track) layering things nicely with atmospheric leads and accents, giving the band’s sound a ton of depth and fluidity.

Balance doesn’t necessarily mean that we have to go to the extremes of pacing, however. “Rust and Bones” stays pretty firmly at “midpaced” or below, but it does still find a way to vary up speed just enough to keep momentum from completely stalling out. Instead, it ends up being one of the album’s more crushing offerings, serving up body blow after body blow of caveman riffs that may not necessarily impress with dizzying technical prowess, but nevertheless leave you short of breath with the band’s relentless assault. Again, Tazbir’s onslaught of growling fury really leads the way, demanding your attention with heaving, monstrous energy. She’s like a damn Yeti laying waste to trees and raccoons and squirrels and whatever the hell else has the misfortune of being in her way, armed with a backing track to facilitate maximum destruction. It’s a fantastically brutal endeavor.

Ischemic is a fantastic young band with a lot of promise, led by a super talented young woman poised to make some waves in the scene. I look forward to seeing where this all progresses from here, but as it stand now Ischemic is well worth your time to check out. Keep this cold Northern shit coming, Canada.

All this is to say that I’m not proud that I’d let my younger self, led by my own insecurities, somehow reach back through and steer me away from Wristmeetrazor before now, just because of some meaningless bullshit spewed by the gatekeepers of the metal world. That was dumb. That said, it has given me a chance to keep my thoughts about Degeneration as pure as possible, so I’ve still avoided listening to their prior work to ensure a completely blank slate. For all I know, maybe their previous releases really were butt. No idea.

What I can tell you? Degeneration goes so fucking hard. It smokes. Fuck me sideways.

So I should probably preface this by saying that this recent late-90s/early-00s metalcore reboot led by the likes of Dying Wish, Year of the Knife and Jesus Piece is very much right up my ally. We’re talking a period of time where I really started to cut my teeth on heavier, more underground acts. What prefaced that, aside from the usual suspects of Metallica, Pantera and Slayer et al, was of course being smack dab in the middle of the Nu-Metal movement where, specifically, I found a real love for the likes of more Industrial-forward acts like Static-X, Powerman 5000, White/Rob Zombie and Coal Chamber. My personal tastes have certainly evolved over time, but many of these acts (certainly the specific ones mentioned) I still very much enjoy unironically and unashamedly to this day. I mention all of this because Degeneration is about as perfect an amalgam as you’ll find of these two styles. Yes, I know, Wristmeetsrazor is hardly the first band to combine Metalcore with Nu-Metal elements, but hand on heart, this might be the best version I’ve heard to date, and it only takes the album’s first track to make the point crystal clear. The bouncy, heavy opening riff of “Turn On, Tune In, Drop Dead” lies right at the intersection of Coal Chamber and Machine Head boulevard, before launching into a throwback Metalcore riff that would have fit in just fine on an early Eighteen Visions or Bleeding Through record. It’s a friggin’ ripper of a start, but of course, any good metalcore album need breakdowns, and boy is this one a doozy – starting first with a pure Devildriver refrain/build up they just explodes into the kind of planet-smashing breakdown that put the likes of It Dies Today and Remembering Never on the map. It all puts me in dire need of a pair of, like, camo cargo JNCOs. That’s gotta be a thing, right?

This is just the beginning of as good a 4-song stretch to start an album as I can recall from recent memory. Where “Turn On…” kinda threw everything in WMR‘s arsenal at you in a neat little sub-3 minute package, “Static Reckoning” goes for straight Metalcore glory, hitting first with a melodic, thrashy riff straight from the classic As I Lay Dying playbook, and culling the same vibes by not shying away from a big, dual vocal chorus that’ll stick on first listen. The bow on top is, of course, another crushing breakdown that will properly rattle your speakers and get any crowd moving in short order. “Trepanation” follows with another track that really lays all the cards on the table, tapping even further into their Industrial/Nu vibes with a track that could well just be a love letter to Dez Fafara’s (Devildriver, Coal Chamber) entire career, hitting with some immense grooves and synth-led atmospherics while still maintaining a distinctly Metalcore base. I think it’d be fair to say this feels as authentic and true to the band’s style and influence as and WMR track to date, and allows the band to stretch out and get even more comfortable with their unique identity. That said, the seesaw goes back toward more straight-Metalcore with “Xeroxed Reflection” which, for this reviewer, is the album’s finest offering – again leaning shamelessly into huge, earworm choruses, some really catchy riffing, and perhaps the band’s most earth-quaking breakdown yet, the kind that could re-start the rotation of a stalled planet, only to break it completely apart with subsonic destruction. It’s an absolute unit of a track.

From here, the back-and-forth interplay between Industrial experimentation and straight-up metalcore brutality continues. “DogdayGod” sees the band tapping into their innermost Cybergoth, creating a striking (and I’m sure divisive) middle ground where Nine Inch Nails and Godflesh shake hands with Sick of it All. Personally, I’m really digging it – but if it’s not to your taste it’s only here for about two and a half minutes before we’re right back into Metalcore again with “Love Thy Enmity” and quick-hitter “Culled and Forgotten,” both of which opt for no-nonsense brutality to make get their point clearly across. What’s funny is, the titles alone are pretty good indicators of what to expect stylistically from each track. You may not be surprised to find tracks like “Synthetic-51n” and “Negative Fix” see the band leaning more into their Industrial/Nu-Metal leanings (though make no mistake, the latter gets plenty heavy, including a monster breakdown), where “No Ceremony,” and “The Vanity Procession” stay more straightforward on the Metalcore path. I love everything Degeneration is putting out there, but there’s definitely still room for the band to further integrate and streamline these ideas into a more cohesive, fully-integrated idea. I’d lie if I said it doesn’t make the album play a bit more predictably than it has to, but it’s also delivered with such conviction and ability that it’s easy to overlook. That said, perhaps no track exemplifies the still-present disconnect than closer “Greatest Love Offering in the History of the World,” the first half of which prominently showcases their Metalcore roots, before coming to an abrupt halt mid-build-up, going to silence for about 10 seconds, then returning with an altogether new, VERY Goth-forward track that, quite honestly should have just been an entirely separate track. I mean, I’m not even talking Goth-y Nu Metal here, I’m talking the likes of Moonspell or Sentenced, certainly a little Type O in there for good measure. And it sounds really fucking good! Really well pulled off, just… where the hell did it come from?! And why present it… like this? I want this band to embrace all their influences and do what they want to do as artists, I just hope they keep working towards making it a more cohesive, fully-articulated sound. Always room for improvement, right?

So sure, there’s still areas of growth left for Wristmeetsrazor, but as a whole, Degeneration is still just a goddamn blast of a listen that I would not hesitate for one second to recommend to anyone and everyone, and really look forward to watching this band evolve and become more and more comfortable with who they are as artists. Don’t let yourself get swept up by preconceptions and bullshit like I once did with this band – just get your hands on Degeneration and enjoy a fine example of metal ingenuity and progress. I know for sure I’ll still be thinking about this one by year’s end.

I can’t tell if this state of mind is the best, or the worst way to dive into Norway’s Shaving the Werewolf, an act I just last year was introduced to through their split EP with countrymates Utflod. My takeaway from that little get-together was, more-or-less:

Bonkers. Absolute apeshit. But, fuck me, I couldn’t get enough of it. I savored every explosive, unhinged moment of their chaotic blend of Power Violence, Noise, Mathcore, Hardcore and, just like, screaming. Lots of screaming. I dunno what it is, but it just reached out and grabbed hold of some primal need in me to remove myself from polite society and get as far away from the straight-laced world of “normal” I’ve struggled mightily to at least be on speaking terms with.

So as I get ready to dive into God Whisperer, I have to ask myself… Is listening to Shaving the Werewolf good for my mental health?

Well what I can tell you is that the band still seems to going through it, whatever the hell “it” is. God Whisperer is no-holds-barred, absolute anarchy from the get-go – an unrelenting face fuck of a sound, spamming your ears drums and brain cells with pure filth from start to finish. The very first thing you hear is essentially the sound of the most grating, eardrum-piercing digital alarm clock you’ll ever find, followed soon after by vocalist Ottar Skift skipping past any notion of “singing” and just going straight for unhinged rambling – something about being depressed, going to the doctor and getting, like, an outpatient lobotomy? I honestly can’t think of a better way to describe what listening to this sounds like so, I mean, pretty dang appropriate if you ask me. The results of this procedure seem to have had some catastrophic effects, despite Skift proclaiming (loudly) that he feels like a million bucks – because I can only assume that’s what led to this completely deranged performance. The dude is a friggin’ menace, and his bandmates are no less committed to the chaos, launching into heaving breakdowns littered with a barrage of noise rock accents courtesy of synthesist Vegard, who keeps himself plenty busy polluting the band’s sound with all manner of audio jetsam.

But that’s only scratching the surface of lunacy. “Junk Food” continues the barrage of discordant guitars and brick wall rhythms while Skift continues his assault on common decency as he screams at some lucky gal or fella about letting him be their “Junk Food.” Take whatever meaning you want from that, but the vibes don’t suggest anything PG-13. As he unleashes a tortured, belting scream on the song’s last breakdown, it seems any semblance of sanity has long since flown the coop, and we’re all just left here to see where the wild ride goes next. Speaking of which “God Whisperer,” with it’s carnival-like synths opening the track, feels like being forced on a carnival ride 15 years past its scheduled inspection, with danger and certain, sudden death seeming imminent around every corner.  There’s so much going on in it’s furious 3 minutes that you may find yourself struggling to remember any specific moment of it, but goddamn if you don’t just keep coming back to experience the insane thrill ride again and again.

And we haven’t even gotten to the truly cracked shit! I present to you: “I Came Here to Fuck.” Imagine minding your own business, and this dude came up to you and just started screaming “I CAME HERE TO FUCK” for like a full minute:

That’s what we’re dealing with here, friends! This is the vibe. Take whatever sense of security you might have been feeling and just dropkick that shit off a cliff. If there’s ever been a face to match a sound, it’s Ottar Skift and Shaving the Werewolf. They go together like strippers and glitter. I T   I S   U N C O M F Y. And yet, I can’t imagine this band, or this track, any other way. He might honestly be a Cenobite. Point is, Shaving the Werewolf may well make your skin crawl, but they’re a band operating on a level f self-awareness and clarity most bands could only hope to reach, and “I Came Here to Fuck” is the ultimate culmination of that effort.

If the last track hadn’t brought things to a little bit of a stall (a 6 minute slog that’s just as unsettling as the rest of the album, but feels slightly unnecessary – but fuck you this band does whatever the hell it wants), this little EP would fly by real quick-like. It’s sorta like having a stroke and waking up 3 months later thinking no time had passed at all. Make no mistake, I don’t mean to suggest God Whisperer doesn’t leave an impact – quite the opposite. It was enough to send me into a minor existential spin, so that’s certainly something. The band themselves refer to their music as “disagreeable music for disagreeable people” and… I mean, yeah. I should have probably just started and ended the review with that. Look, this isn’t gonna be for everyone, and clearly the band doesn’t want it to be anyway, so mission accomplished. I, for one, will be all over this for a bit.

The thing is, for me and for the similarly-depraved out there who just can’t get enough spit-riddled, blood-and-probably-cum-stained sleaze, this is a good thing. I’d be ripshit if it were anything different. I’d probably riot.

At this stage in Midnight‘s long and, frankly, outrageous career – here’s where we’re at: A new album isn’t really any cause for Midnight mastermind Athenar to start pushing any boundaries. Fact of the matter is, he could even start recycling a riff or two and it’d probably be a minute before anyone really noticed or much cared (I’m by no means accusing him of this, I’m just making a point). True, the man himself did admit that he wasn’t totally feeling the output of Let There be Witchery – and maybe it was the slightly softened edges or even the hint at melody he injected into some of the tracks that put him off, because if you really want to get down to the brass nails here, Hellish Expectations is a decidedly more harsh affair. The Midnight sound has always been catchy and accessible (to a point), but this time around the production offers very little in the way of cushioning. It’s sharp, in-your-face, and lives directly in opposition to every advancement the world has made in the science of audio recording. Hellish Expectations is, at its core, Midnight at its most distilled and basic form.

To that point, “Expect Total Hell” very much rises to the occasion, immediately culling the likes of Venom and Hellhammer with an omnipresent spirit of Motorhead always lingering around the edges – Athenar makes no bones about his intentions with his first tortured, distorted scream, tossing any illusions of a gentler, restrained Midnight right off a cliff as he barrels ahead with signature simplicity – assaulting fans with the typical sort of fast, seething riffs that would fit the bill whether you were at a Black Metal or a Black Flag show, and the Rock n’ Roll as fuck solo just helps to set the tone even further, adding the kind of rock god machismo needed to make for an altogether sleazier, hornier affair. It’s the sort of frenzied, full-assault attack that makes a Midnight show the sensory overload experience that it is, which, is really the only reason for Athenar to keep writing new material, right? It’s all in service to the live show, which is ideally where one should experience Midnight in its full glorious mayhem anyway.

To that end,  I suspect “Masked and Deadly” could, and should become a new crowd favorite in short order, armed with a SUPER catchy guitar lead and possibly autobiographical lyrics that should immediately get stuck in any longtime fan’s brain. The more Rock-forward “Slave of the Blade,” and uber-catchy Motorhead worship of “FOAL (Fuck Off and Live)” also have all the hallmarks of becoming new live favorites, the latter boasting perhaps the most Midnight of all Midnight refrains of all time (I wish I could share the official video here featuring Athenar pretty much constantly flipping double-birds and ditching sticks to play drums directly with his fists, but apparently that’s all just too cool for YouTube to handle).

What has always endeared me to Midnight, and what Hellish Expectations has achieved in spades, is Athenar’s ability to reach out and appeal to the common metalhead. Prime example: a look at the track list may look like your prototypical collection of devil worshipping anthems and general misanthropy – and to be sure, that kind of thing is there for those that seek it – but it actually gets far more clever and, dare I say, wholesome than that. A quick glance and a track like “Deliver Us to Evil” could easily be mistaken as some mindless, throwaway metal trope, but the song is actually about ordering some metal records, sitting at home, and the anticipation of waiting for them to arrive at your doorstep. Like I said, very clever! And wholesome! And a feeling any metalhead, you, me or anyone else is all too familiar with!

That’s just one example Athenar himself has revealed, but it opens you to wonder what other kinds of normal, everyday headbanger shit he’s actually writing about. Is “Dungeon Lust” about finding yourself helplessly attracted to the new, mysterious Tiefling who’s joined your D&D party? Is “Mercyless Slaughtor” about the fictional metal band Merciless Slaughter from the “Mondo Metal” issue of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Adventures comic book series? Probably not! But it’s also not hard to imagine Athenar chilling in his basement reading comics while waiting for his last order of metal albums to arrive. The possibilities are endless! If there’s anything maybe I can convince you of that might change your opinion about Midnight, it’s that Athenar is you, Athenar is me, Athenar is the spirit of every average shmo who just fucking loves Heavy Metal. I think we can all appreciate that.

Athenar seems to have made a really concerted effort to trim any fat that might have been forming to make for a truly authentic Midnight experience, and the result here is another high-quality, no frills event that fits in to the band’s catalog of bangers like a fingerless glove. If this review seems a bit flippant or like I haven’t given it enough effort, it’s not because I don’t think it deserves attention – far from it. There’s just not a whole lot to say here that you probably don’t already know about this band, and talking excessively about it serves no one. So I’ll just leave it at this – Midnight fans, rejoice with me! Hellish Expectations rules. Non-Midnight fans, uh, keep doing your thing, I guess? Athenar is going to keep plowing ahead just fine without you the same as he always has.

The risk of such short-term productivity is always that a band may be dipping into their pantry a bit too much, leaving themselves short on inspiration and creativity. The burnout can become very real, very quickly. But these murderous little minks seem to prove, time and time again, that their cache of killer riffs is still stocked to the gills. Seriously, immense props need to be given to Heikki Jalonen (otherwise known as THE Necro Weasel himself) for continuing to find really fun, inspired thrash riffs like they were roaches in a New York City apartment – always readily available and yet somehow no less demanding of your attention every time you encounter one.

Right off the bat, the opening title track treats us to a really upbeat guitar attack (featuring some absolutely righteous dive bombs in the intro that make me giddy with idiotic glee) that pretty much let you know exactly what to expect for the remainder of the album. There’s a real knack from this project for taking some very serious real-world issues, and somehow still making songs that sound almost joyous and cheerful – no doubt due largely to the band’s punky, crossover appeal. “All They Want is Us to Suffer” should not sound like a real fun time, never mind a track called “Out For Your Blood,” and yet both leave me feeling energized and lighter on my feet – hitting you face-first with pure adrenaline riffs and some downright nasty solos that remind you, one again, that despite the silly moniker and DIY aesthetic these are serious and highly capable musicians more than capable of melting faces at any moment.

Much like their tiny, furry namesakes however, Necro Weasel is still more than capable of surprising you with more serious, deadly intent. I won’t necessarily say this album showcases the band in a darker-than-usual light, but they sure as shit ain’t getting any softer, either. “Keep Breathing” and “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished” both feel much more seething, borrowing a little more from the schools of Slayer and Sodom than the more tongue-in-cheek D.R.I. or Iron Reagan as they put the problems of the modern world on blast, and “You Chose to Close Your Eyes” feels like a deliberate assault on the listener, making you stare directly into the face of injustice and human greed. I feel called out! “No Good Deed…” even breaks out the use of double-bass kick (not unheard of from the band, but rare) to further show they mean business, giving the track a much more straight-up metallic feel than we’re used to hearing from these guys.

Apologies to Necro Weasel for taking my sweet-ass time getting a review out for this, seeing as they went out of their way to ask if I’d do it. Life, as Necro Weasel themselves likely know very well given the content of their subject matter, often gets in the way of the things we’d rather be doing. That said, I both take solace in and bemoan the notion that there’s a good chance this one probably went without notice for a lot of folks at its release, so hopefully this helps give the band another boost of attention (like I’ve got that kind of pull…) because this band truly deserves it. Make no mistake, behind the DIY-aesthetics and misleading moniker still lies the beating heart of a really high-quality Thrash attack, backed by the kind of riff wizardry that for too long has flown under the radar. Refuse to take seriously at your own peril, because A Brave New World is yet another rock-solid addition in what is very quickly becoming a really impressive catalog, with teeth as sharp as ever at the ready to murder you just when you let your guard down.

HOWEVER, music so far this year really is doing everything is can to keep a smile on my face. Aside from the genuinely fantastic albums I’ve already reviewed from this year, it seems like every day I’ve checked in to see what my colleagues at Teeth of the Divine have been listening to, and been greeted with banger after banger to add to my rotation. And it’s not just that the albums have been of high quality, they’ve also been, dare I say, FUN – albums you can appreciate not just for their artistic merit, but for bringing a genuine sense of joy and energy that has been severely needed in my life. To that end, and despite the bleak outlook of this album’s title – Born, Suffering, Death from Chile’s Hellman is practically Gorilla gluing a big, dumb grin on my face. This album is a goddamn blast.

I say all this knowing that, to a fairly wide audience, Hellman‘s brand of punky, shameless Wolverine Blues-worshipping Death ‘n Roll ain’t gonna hit with everybody, and that’s fine… but I just don’t care. For those of you out there like me who think back fondly on that sort of swaggering, endlessly upbeat sound of Sweden in the mid 90s, get the hell on board and lets rage. Led by renowned producer, engineer and international booking agent Filipe Ferrada on bass and vocals, he’s serving up a seriously authentic performance along with Pedro (drums) and Sabastian Puente (guitar), Hellman is to Wolverine Blues Entombed what Gruesome is to Death, or Warmarshal to Bolt Thrower – essentially tribute acts that happen to write their own material (this album even features a cover of the Entombed classic, ” Out of Hand”). So if that’s not your bag, I guess go ahead and just stop reading now cuz that pretty much sums up what you’re getting out of this.

Like Wolverine Blues, “The 4th Power” gets Born, Suffering, Death off to a super fast start, opting for a more straight-up thrashy death attack right up until the bridge kicks in closer to the 3 minute mark when the album’s true colors really start to seep through. Still, it all seems straightforward enough until “Desktop Activist” kicks the “n’ roll” party off proper, with a super simple, upbeat riff that certainly has the potency to kickstart a good circle pit in short order, riding the link between punk simplicity and death metal aggression beautifully. It’s a no-frills barn burner that does its damage through pure, unbridled tenacity – a palpable energy that mainlines its way from your ears to your bloodstream until you’re hopelessly hooked.

Speaking of circle pits, the appropriately named “The Cycle” is practically purpose-built for putting any crowd into a human maelstrom, diving headlong into neck-snapping paces before scaling back to a super fun 2-stepping bridge that should play well in any live setting. Similar quick-hitters like “Unnecessary Consuming” and “Sacrifice Zone” display a confident self-awareness, putting no-nonsense punk aesthetics at the forefront to get in, pack a punch, and get out before anyone has time to grow bored with it (not that they necessary would, given this level of energy).

In fact, the band seem at their best when at their most urgent – with longer tracks like “Silent Genocide” and “Where Was God” seeming to linger longer than truly necessary, particularly on the former when the band breaks into an extended doom break that just feels a bit out-of-place and brings the frenetic energy of the album down to a crawl. That said, the D-Beat drumming and speedier riffing on the tail of the track saves it from being a complete throwaway – I just wish they’d gotten to the point sooner.

This isn’t to say the band only hits when it’s at maximum speed – “A Waste of Human Being” plays like a mutant hybrid of groovy, Chaos A.D. era Sepultura (Ferrada’s vocals could certainly be mistaken for Max Cavalera’s distinct bark on several occasions) and early 90’s Unleashed, creating the sort of international concoction you’d expect to find at a fusion joint slinging Bahn Mi tacos. Sounds just as weird on paper but in practice, it actually works really well. The mid-paced “Bringer of Death” may be down on tempo, but certainly does not lack vibrance, led by more of  Sabastian Puede’s apparent knack for a good, simple punk/death n’ roll riff. I know to some metal fans it’s a bit of a foreign concept, but it’s just dang fun! It should also be noted that the band pulls off a great cover with “Out of Hand,” staying true and capturing the rumbling, raucous vibes of the original, albeit with a cleaner, non-chainsaw-drenched guitar tone (I know some purists will probably say there needs to be more buzz, but Hellman seems to be doing just fine doing it their own way).

Born, Suffering, Death ain’t pushing the needle or setting the world on fire, but if you’re a fan of this particular sound, you won’t find a much better modern example than what Hellman has thrown down here – and that’s more than enough to get a big ol’ thumbs up from me. Quick, to-the-point, and thoroughly satisfying, and absolutely worth the brief commitment asked to check it out in full.

Sometimes an album is a slow burn, taking some time and considered effort to truly appreciate. Others come right out the gate and demand your attention through sheer exuberance and force of will. Showdown from North Carolina’s Mega Colossus is very much the latter. Giving this album a first listen is like opening a door and being greeted by a year-old golden retriever – pure, raw energy and smiles abound, whose only intention is OH MY GOD HI HELLO LOOK AT THIS BALL DO YOU WANNA PLAY HOLY CRAP LETS GO FOR A WALK NO LETS GO RUN IN THE WOODS DO YOU LIKE CHEESE ITS MY FAVORITE LETS BE BEST FRIENDS.

From the jump its an exercise in having a good goddamn time and shredding faces with epic, vibrant riffs and fantastic, everything-you-got vocals, with opener “Fortune and Glory” rampaging ahead with the same infectious energy of Tower Hill‘s Deathstalker or Maule‘s self-titled debut, and pairing it with early Rainbow‘s legendary knack for earworm melodies and epic song structures. It’s a friggin’ RIDE, with killer guitar leads giving you every reason to air guitar along like an absolute lunatic, especially when you get to the song’s face-melting solo and bridge that would probably make Glenn Tipton himself stand back in admiration. If this track doesn’t get you instantly hooked, I dunno man. Life doesn’t have to be so hard, ya know?

And you’ll be glad for getting so attached so quickly, because Showdown rewards you with track after track of incredibly high-quality work. “Outrun Infinity” keeps the momentum going all the way forward, ripping out another banger solo right out the gate, and continuing their trend of high energy riffing and enthusiastic vocals en route to another track built to put a dumb smiles on your face. That’s all the band wants to do! Shred killer riffs and make you happy. To that end, the band make no bones about the fact that they are not going to shy away from massive hooks, and why the hell should they given how brilliant they are at writing them? Where their last album Riptide took a decidedly more aggressive approach (while still being incredibly fun), Showdown greets the listener with noticeably warmer, happy-go-lucky tones (hence, the Golden Retriever reference), and the hooks here match the vibes – epic, memorable and immensely repeatable. The earworm refrain of “Grab the Sun” won’t leave your head anytime soon, and the final 2 and a half minutes is pretty much serotonin in audio form, layered with the kind of heroic guitar melodies that belong at the end of every sports film when the team of overmatched misfit scrappers steal victory from the evil antagonists. I practically feel like I’m being carried away on the shoulders of my overjoyed teammates. It rules.

Mega Colossus also bucks recent NWOTHM trends by embracing a beautifully robust, fully modern production on Showdown, and we should all be thankful for it. The guitar work laid out by guitarists Bill Fischer and Chris Millard is too good to get lost in a muddled production job just for the sake of “aesthetic choice,” and letting drummer Doza Mendoza’s mighty kick pulse true through the speakers accentuates every note perfectly. This is not an album you’ll grow weary listening to, rather you’ll grow more and more emboldened to jump atop your couch or work desk with every track and sing along with unabashed gusto. The multi-vocal attack on the album’s title track, led by lead singer Sean Buchanan’s impressively crisp, expressive chops will carry you to the highest of highs, without a single missed note or melody to be found. In fact, everything about this album seems to be done mindfully and with purpose – they may not necessarily be pushing their own boundaries with Showdown or even taking your through a complex musical journey here (Aside from the relatively more tame “Wicked Road,” there’s pretty much one vibe here and it’s all fast and fun all the time), but nor are the band overstaying their welcome to risk becoming stale, either. At 6 songs, this certainly borders on “is this an EP?” territory, but the 37+ minute run time packs just the right amount of punch to leave you feeling fully engaged and satisfied by the time it’s finished.

The fact of the matter is, Mega Colossus already have a really damn good catalog of releases under their belt. Anyone who’s followed this act from all the way back to 2006’s .​.​.​and the Rift of the Pandimensional Under​-​God (back when they were known as just just regular, run-of-the-mill Colossus), up to 2021’s Riptime will already know the level of quality this band has shown capable of. Unfortunately, where the music has always been fantastic, the band has struggled to maintain a consistent identity in nearly every other facet of this project. Yeah, I know, the music should be all that matters at the end of the day, but a quick glance back and you see seven releases, all boasting vastly different band logos, all with stylistically very different album art. Naysay all you want, I guarantee that’s gone a long way to keeping this band as under-the-radar as they’ve remained for the last 17 years, which is simply criminal given the brilliant musicianship and songwriting the band have once again displayed on Showdown. Marketing matters! I only mention this because I’m hoping their new home with Cruz del Sur Music (the unquestioned standard-bearers for modern Heavy Metal output) will help alleviate these cosmetic issues, and help finally propel Mega Colossus to the level of recognition and notoriety they absolutely deserve. Do your part and get your hands on this doozy ASAP.

Of course, with this modern rise of old school metal continuing to grow more and more popular, we’re getting to the point where a lot of this scene is starting to get a little… monotonous. It’s a natural cycle that hits every “flavor of the day” style of metal at some point in it’s development, but it also provides an opportunity for bands to break through and make themselves stand out from the crowd – create something that’s just a little bit different, if not just a little bit better than their peers. To that end, Norway’s Sovereign do not seem interested in being just another throwback band in the sea of old school. Altered Realities feels, to this humble, idiotic metal reviewer, special. 

For starters, Altered Realities doesn’t just sound like a modern record produced to sound like it was recorded in the late 80s or early 90s, it just straight-up sounds of that era, full-stop. If you’d told me this was a long-forgotten, under-appreciated gem unearthed from the vaults of the Roadrunner Records archives, I wouldn’t hesitate to believe it. Second, the influences ringing through loud and clear on this record fall perfectly in line with some of my favorite acts of the time – namely, heaping doses of both early-Sepultura and Pestilence, with some of the thrashier elements of Dark Angel and groove ala Obituary to make sure they have pretty much all of your old school bases covered. Grab your Nike or Vans high tops and dive right in with opening track “Altered Reality” to be instantly transported back into your ’87 Ford Bronco listening to Testimony of the Ancients on cassette while nursing a couple “road sodas” (**I’m just curating a vibe here we at Teeth of the Divine do note condone the act of drinking while driving a vehicle. Don’t yell at us**) en route to some dingy underground Death Metal venue. The opening atmospherics and synths of  “Altered Reality” fall right in line with the eerie tones you’d expect from the era, and the two opening riffs that follow are absolute monsters. The kind of tone-setting, straight-to-your-face fretwork that will make any old school Death Metal fan feel all tingly in their nether parts. If this is just a “me” thing, I apologize for the visual.

If there’s anything to complain about the opening track, it’s 7:00 run time does meander a bit more than it probably needs to, but luckily is not indicative of this entire record, as the much more concise “Futile Dreams” follows with more focus and urgency,  getting right to the point with a blistering riff and frantic drumming that will leave anyone trying to windmill in time dizzy and out of breath. The full-throttle attack comes to a crushing halt at the end of the track, as the band dives headlong into another crossover-friendly breakdown that flows beautifully into “Nebular Waves,” which reverses course from the prior track to hit with a much more heaving, meticulous approach. It’s a true headbanger that just seethes with predatory malice, like a snow leopard confidently stalking it’s prey. When the band explodes with it’s full thrash fury about halfway through, it’s like that point in those insane nature videos where the snow leopard finishes its stalking and gives chase to a mountain goat on a sheer cliff. It’s a band fully unleashed, reaching maximum speed and aggression while still displaying deft, agile twists and turns along the way, right up until the chaotic maelstrom of soloing guitars and breakneck drumming at the 2:50 mark when the leopard finally catches its kill and the two go tumbling completely out-of-control down cliff faces and falling rocks, when you’re pretty sure neither animal is coming out of this alive (I know animal-on-animal murder isn’t on everyone’s watch list, but holy shit is it amazing to watch). ANYWAY, it’s a really exciting conclusion to what is certainly one of the band’s strongest tracks.

And the band’s display of dexterity and brutality certainly does not end there. Another of their finer tracks, “Counter Tech,” and probably my favorite track “The Enigma of Intelligence,” both put their golden-age Sepultura love on full display, nimbly see-sawing back and fourth between outright Thrash fury, and crushing Death Metal heft with an expert touch. The bridge/solo riff on the latter is perhaps my favorite on the album, the kind that simultaneously makes me want to charge head-first into a brick wall, and fall to my knees in outright worship of the mastery laid down by guitarists Vidar Fineidet and Tommy Jacobsen (both formerly of Norwegian Thrash outfit, Nocturnal Breed). And despite the relentless assault heard to this point of the record, “Synthetic Life” proves the band still have another gear in them, pressing the throttle through the floor and barreling into your eardrums with reckless abandon. But lest you think this is just a total blitzkrieg, the band breaks down into the kind of groovy, heavy stretch that’ll put your stank face on full effect, layering with yet another brilliant solo before kicking back into top gear and melting any faces that remain unblemished (and to this point, there probably ain’t many).

The finale of “Absence of Unity” may again be another example of a song that sticks around longer than it needs to (when you get to the 7:00 mark and it’s JUST THEN that you’re breaking down into doom riffs, you might be in a little bit of trouble), but it’s not without its moments of continued brilliance. Maybe just breaking it up into 2 or 3 different tracks might have been more what the doctor ordered, but this is really as big a fault as I can find here, and it hardly keeps me from heading right back to track one and blasting my way through the whole experience all over again. I freakin’ love Altered Realities, to the extend that I think I may well have found my new favorite Death Metal throwback amongst a sea of really good acts. Whether you’re still as big a fan of this kind of revival as ever, or you’re beginning to grow weary of it, I can’t recommend enough that you give Sovereign a spin. It’ll either only embolden your love affair, or maybe make you think twice about turning your back.