I’m relatively certain that Sonata Arctica not only knows who I am, but that they have requested I never be allowed anywhere near them. Despite them being objectively one of my favorite bands, everything I write about them just sounds mean. For example, I made a list of some of my favorite Sonata Arctica songs and I framed it as their “Unintentional Successes.” I imagine, at this point, that Mr. Kakko and co. personally dislike me, even though we’ve never met. That kind of sucks, because I love them, even if it’s a tense relationship at times.

It’s amazing to think that when I first heard of Finland’s much-better-Stratovarius, I was just a kid. I went out to order Ecliptica because I heard “Letter to Dana” on a web radio station and became completely obsessed with it.¹ And yes, there was something slightly pretentious in my initial listens, like watching Eurovision to laugh at it, rather than partake in earnest. I was young and very proud of myself for liking edgy music that normies didn’t like. And Sonata Arctica embodied an unabashed poppiness, Tony’s English often lacked prepositions, but—as I would come to realize—they wrote addictive and creative songs that often defied expectations.

Over the years, I think I’ve come to understand Mr. Kakko and friends, and that has turned into genuine respect. I gladly admit that Sonata Arctica is one of my favorite bands because it’s true. I’ve listened to them a ton and they’ve done a lot more good than bad. I’ve reviewed every one of their records released since I launched AMG in 2009 and will review 2024’s Clear Cold Beyond soon.² And with time, what I have come to admire the most about Sonata Arctica is their need to evolve. And the results of that aren’t always what I want to hear. But I simply admire musicians who take their shot rather than being scared of failure and grow repetitive as a result.

And for the guy who loves to write a list—like me and my colleagues Twelve and Eldritch Elitist here at the website—that also means that Sonata Arctica has an eminently rankable discography of 10 full length (without ranking the re-recordings and acoustic records). And motherfucker if we aren’t going to rank the shit out of that discography right here.

From Worst to First. You know the drill. – Angry Metal Guy

The “But Seriously, Why?” Tier

#10: Talviyö (2019) — Talviyö is the band’s worst album, bar none. The problem with Talviyö is that it is utterly forgettable. For the first time in their career, they released an album that didn’t seem like Tony was straining against anything other than his will to be recording an album. It would not surprise me to hear that after an intensive career, the man who once wrote about wishing to leave the show behind was suffering from a touch of burnout. As I wrote in my review, Talviyö is “an album that has no tension, no real experimentation, and the dynamic range of a brick wall.” It is the only Sonata Arctica album from which I do not like a single song. They’ve got nine other records worth spending time with. You can comfortably skip Talviyö unless you’ve got a trauma in the Anal Stage.³

#9: Stones Grow Her Name (2012) — Not to keep quoting myself, but I think I succinctly summed up Stones Grow Her Name when I wrote, “Stones Grow Her Name is like the combination of the band’s worst instincts and new sound coalescing into a record that is simultaneously uneventful but provocative in its mediocrity.”⁴ I’ve softened some since then, and there are definitely some standouts here that make it better than Talviyö. “Losing My Insanity” and “Somewhere Close to You” pack a punch, with the latter featuring genuinely interesting counter melodies and flourishes. And despite laughing at it back in 2012, “Don’t Be Mean” has really grown on me.⁵ But the weird banjo-infused Americana thing will forever ruin Stones for me. I can follow Tony to a lot of places, but cultural appropriation was a bridge too far.

The “Good But Flawed” Tier

#8: Pariah’s Child (2014) — Is Pariah’s Child the first example of the Sonata Arctica apology tour? After 2012’s foray into banjo-fueled demonic nightmares (see above), Pariah’s Child sported the classic Sonata Arctica logo and had a wolf on the front.⁶ And there are some good things on Pariah’s Child. “What Did You Do in the War, Dad?” achieves Peak Kakko, balancing awkward and cheesy with emotional and brilliant. “Half a Marathon Man” is an energetic and catchy track that complements other high points like “Cloud Factory.” But the lows here are low: “X Marks the Spot” is cringe af; “Love” is among the worst things the band has ever written; and there’s a feeling that I can’t escape here that Pariah’s Child was an album made under the duress of harsh criticisms from Stones Grow Her Name. And I think that undermines its staying power for me.

#7: Unia (2007) — AngryMetalGuy.com did not exist in 2007, so we have been spared the rambling, linear, and—if I’m totally honest with myself—ultimately whiny review that I would have written about Unia at the time. And while definitely not my favorite Sonata Arctica album, one can hear the blueprint for their better material from the late era. And you know what? Unlike Pariah’s Child, it feels like they were just doing what they wanted to do at the time. It’s too damned long and not everything works, but it was a far more vital albums than I think any of us were willing to admit at the time. Unia opens particularly strongly with “In Black and White” and “Paid in Full,” the record rips it up on “The Harvest,” while “It Won’t Fade” features one of my favorite Sonata Arctica choruses.⁷ Say what you want, Unia is pretty well-produced and features seriously lush orchestral arrangements. And sure, it’s brought down by “Caleb” and snoozy tracks like “For the Sake of Revenge,” but it laid the groundwork for a successful second act.

#6: Silence (2001) — Silence was my first Sonata Arctica album. After hearing “Letter to Dana” on a web radio station, I went to order Ecliptica straight away. Weirdly, two or three days later I received promos from my then-boss and now AMG-alum Al Kikuras with the promo for Silence. To my dismay, I didn’t love it. Basically, I think Silence is Sonata Arctica‘s answer to Fear of the Dark. In many ways, it’s an iconic record because of its high points: “Wolf & Raven,” “Weballergy,” “San Sebastian” and “Black Sheep” are all excellent songs that I want to hear live. But at an hour long, it also included shitshows like “The End of This Chapter,” “Last Drop Falls,” and the worst followup to Ecliptica’s Best. Power. Ballad. Ever…: “Tallulah.” All-in-all, this record is both great and flawed. See, it’s Fear of the Dark!

#5: Ecliptica (1999) — My sense is that Ecliptica is where many fans’ relationship both started and ended and I think that’s a shame.⁸ While loaded with absolutely top tier, undeniable classics like “UnOpened,” “Letter to Dana,” “FullMoon” and “Blank File,” I’ve always felt like the songwriting here was just immature compared to a lot of what the band would go on to do. They proved that they could produce great, catchy power metal and they could do it really well here. And they wrote some of my favorite metal songs ever—and the best power ballad since the ’80s—but the band has gone on to heights that they weren’t even close to reaching here. This may, in fact, be the band’s most overrated record, even if I still love it.

#4: The Ninth Hour (2016) — “As a whole, The Ninth Hour is interesting, surprising, and thankfully free of banjo” is how I summarized the nice things I had to say about the album when it dropped. And I stand by it. The Ninth Hour is an example of how when Kakko hits, he really hits. Gripes about the production aside, The Ninth Hour is full of adventurous songs and ideas—even some older-fashioned ones—but doesn’t feel like an Apology Tour record, but rather just finds Tony doing Tony. The record’s crowning glory may in fact be “We Are What We Are,” a song that so bleakly encapsulates the problems facing the world because of humanity that it caused me to remark to my fellow writers “fatalistic Kakko may be the best Kakko” in Slack. But “We Are What We Are” isn’t an exception, The Ninth Hour is an album chock full of songs, riffs, and lyrics worth hearing.⁹ Still, it’s not without its flaws, and the fact that it sounds bad makes it hard to rank higher.

The “Wait, Is Sonata Arctica Actually Finland’s Best Export?” Tier

#3: Winterheart’s Guild (2003) — Winterheart’s Guild is where Sonata Arctica truly clicked over from good to great for me. While their first two albums are considered Europower royalty by so many fans of the genre, Winterheart’s Guild found them adding brilliant new wrinkles. As is often the case, it’s the higher quality slower and more progressive tracks that make Winterheart’s Guild better than its predecessor. In particular, “Broken” is a highlight, improving on what didn’t work on “Sing of Silence.” And while closer “Draw Me” drips like badly made queso, it really shows off Kakko’s lungs and is the perfect way to round out the album. And aside from these songs, the rest of the album is straight bangers. My particular favorite is probably “The Cage,” which easily could have been on either of the first two records, but there isn’t a bad song on here.

#2: The Days of Grays (2009) — I didn’t used to love The Days of Grays as much as I do today. In fact, I had a bit of a U-shaped trajectory with the album. When it was released in 2009, following Unia, I wanted some of that intensity from earlier albums back. But the band didn’t break out the old logo, even if they did rework an old demo for “Flag in the Ground.” Instead, they just kept writing in a vein that really cemented their vision. Like so many first albums with a new sound, Unia hadn’t quite solved their new sound yet. And, for me, it’s The Days of Grays where the late-Sonata Arctica sound really began to clarify. Weird and progressive? “The Dead Skin” does that so well. Big, complex and orchestral? Try on “Deathaura” for size! Surprising, absurd and macabre? “Juliet” is absolutely brilliant.¹⁰ We even get fatalistic Kakko being fatalistic on “As if the World Wasn’t Ending.” This album doesn’t have a flaw and anyone who tells you it does is leading you astray. Even as long as it is, The Days of Grays is a brilliant record.

#1: Reckoning Night (2004) — I remember getting my hands on Reckoning Night and dang, it was good. At 20 years olde this year, I can still remember those first listens like it was yesterday. What’s brilliant about this album is the way in which you can witness their sound starting to really solidify. While they were getting better as songwriters on Winterhheart’s Guild, Reckoning Night is where the combination of their old sound and the basis of their new sound met and created perfection. The highs on the album are really high. Again, even the mid-paced stuff that tends to be the band’s weakest moments—like the rocky “Blinded No More”—makes me want to grill burgers and drink shitty lager rather than skip it. “Ain’t Your Fairytale” and “Don’t Say a Word” are classics, and almost every song on here is encore-worthy on a setlist. The one black eye is “My Selene,” which would be a welcome replacement on several of their albums, but is a bit too safe in the context of Reckoning Night. Still, if you want to hear the Platonic ideal of the Sonata Arctica sound? It’s contained in these 55 minutes of brilliant, olde power metal.

Eldritch Elitist

Upon first discovering power metal via the majesty of DragonForce—at precisely the correct age for such majesty to take full effect (13 and change)—I began hunting for more. My search quickly led me to PureVolume, where I encountered Sonata Arctica‘s “Victoria’s Secret,” and I was immediately hooked. Sonata Arctica didn’t just have the speed and melodic prowess of DragonForce; they had angst. I was drawn in by the perpetually lovelorn lyrics of one Tony “No Bitches” Kakko,¹¹ which resonated more strongly with my intensely hormonal adolescent self than I care to admit. I became a Sonata Arctica obsessive in short order, just in time for Unia to rear its head, along with the band’s proclamation that they were “bored as fuck” with playing the type of music I’d come to love so dearly. They have backpedaled to their power metal roots on multiple occasions since then, always in seemingly obligatory fashion, but their greatest post-heyday successes are often found in their most experimental works. Such experimentation makes a ranking as this one a viable endeavor. Prepare for a whole bunch of weirdness and cringe, which will gradually wane (yet never entirely fade, not really) as we make our way to the number one spot.

#10. Talviyö (2019) — I’m enough of a fan of Sonata Arctica that I generally assume a solid sense of what the band is setting out to do with each new album. I have no fucking clue what they were doing with Talviyö. Part of that is because not so much as a single note manages to stick with me. Its melodies, riffs (wait – are there any??), and writing are so unassuming that I can’t process the album because it refuses to exist in my memory. The production shares the remainder—and perhaps the lion’s share—of the blame. Detractors often compare Sonata Arctica unfavorably to Christmas music, but most classic holiday fare has edgier and more impactful production than this muddled, soft rock-adjacent mess. The death knell comes from a career-worst showing from Tony Kakko, whose muted, nasal performances give the impression that he caught a cold just before tracking vocals, and no one could be bothered to re-book his studio time. I sort of like the chorus of “Message from the Sun,” so I’ll give that a shout-out so that I have something from Talviyö to offer the ranking playlist. Now, please excuse me as I never listen to it again.

#9. The Days of Grays (2009) — It hurts to rank The Days of Grays so low when its first three tracks (excluding the intro) are so good. “Deathaura” is a creepy, yet ultimately somber and lovely epic, and both “The Last Amazing Grays” and “Flag in the Ground” are straightforward power metal romps that could have slotted comfortably into Reckoning Night’s tracklist. Every single song that follows, with the exception of the dramatic “Juliet,” is an absolute slog. The then-recent departure of guitarist Jani Liimatainen is nearly tangible, evidenced in the plodding guitar work comprising stale power chord progressions and mindless, metalcore-esque chugs. Tony Kakko’s vocal melodies, meanwhile, represent more of an approximation of Sonata Arctica’s once-prized romanticism than the genuine article. Beyond its scarce highlights, this album is by and large a chore to get through in one sitting, and on most days I’d sooner pick the dogged competence of Unia than trudge through the full hour of The Days of Grays.¹²

#8. Unia (2007) — You had to have been there to understand how reviled Unia was at release. It arrived hot on the heels of several “experimental” departures from established power metal titans such as Stratovarius, Blind Guardian, and Edguy; it felt like traditional power metal was dying, and with Unia, Sonata Arctica threw more fuel on an already furious fire. In retrospect, while its renewed stake in prog and de-emphasized melodies certainly signaled the end of Sonata Arctica’s heyday, Unia is basically the consummate AMG 2.5. Its material is competent, and the band performs it with respectable conviction. Yet the material isn’t just forgettable; it’s un-memorable. I’ve returned to Unia many times over the years, yet outside of the decently catchy “Paid in Full,” I could never possibly recall a single note from it without having been recently exposed. If nothing else, it’s worth a listen for its unintentionally hilarious lyrics, especially this zinger from “Caleb”: “The words were not meant to hurt, only destroy you, my stupid son.”

#7. Pariah’s Child (2014) — Sonata Arctica went hard in emphasizing Pariah’s Child as a return to power metal form, going as far as to revert to their old logo, plastered on an album cover that nowadays would be the result of entering “Generic Sonata Arctica Album Art” as a prompt into your non-ethical AI art generator of choice. Pariah’s Child certainly did not reprise the band’s glory days, but it’s definitely fun, if frontloaded. In a sort of reverse Days of Grays scenario, the final three tracks can’t live up to the seven which precede it; “X Marks the Spot” is just embarrassing, “Love” might be the band’s worst ballad, and “Larger Than Life” is easily the most forgettable of Sonata Arctica’s long-form tracks. On the flipside, “Running Lights,” “Blood,” and “What Did You Do in the War, Dad?” are all late-career highlights that have lured me back to Pariah’s Child on occasion. It might just be the least consistent album of this band’s career,¹³ but really, when it comes to Sonata Arctica’s discography, doesn’t that make it kinda poetic?

#6. Stones Grow Her Name (2012) — The initial reception to Stones Grow Her Name from fans and journalists was so negative that I gave it one skeptical half-listen listen back when it released, and never returned until buckling down for this ranking. In what is easily the biggest surprise of this ranking process, I found that I actually like it quite well. It pays dividends to divorce Stones Grow Her Name from the context of Sonata Arctica’s history. A collection of catchy, rock-oriented power metal songs, its solid hooks and energy level feel mightily refreshing coming off the heels of the sluggish The Days of Grays. There are songs here that could have been fan favorites in any other context (especially “Losing My Insanity”), but its quirky novelties are generally a blast (“Alone in Heaven,” “Cinderblox”), and I’ve even learned to embrace the cringe of the infamous “Shitload of Money” (What she got??). The sequels to “Wildfire” remain totally perplexing in concept, but are pretty entertaining in execution. And really, a simply fun time is a best-case scenario when dealing with post-Reckoning Night Sonata Arctica, and there really isn’t an album from this era that’s more fun than this one.

#5. The Ninth Hour (2016) — Holy shit, Tony Kakko, wake up. The Ninth Hour finds Sonata Arctica’s frontman in a borderline narcoleptic state for much of its runtime, with sleepy vocals seemingly attuned to fit the record’s melancholic mood. While I’m not a huge fan of Tony’s voice on this record, I am a fan of the album itself. It’s generally quite catchy in that cheesy, romantically bittersweet way that made me fall in love with Sonata Arctica in the first place, while packing in some genuine jams (“Fairytale,” “Rise a Night”), moodier pieces (“We Are What We Are,” “Among the Shooting Stars”), and one of my favorite ballads the band has ever written (“Candle Lawns”). “White Pearl, Black Oceans, Pt. II” sweetens the deal, a surprisingly compelling extended epilogue to the original that I find much more engaging than the “Wildfire” sequels. If speed is all you value in Sonata Arctica then you likely won’t get much out of The Ninth Hour, but I personally find it to be one of the only modern records where Kakko and Co. are making the music they want without compromises, and the only one that is bereft of any notable weak points.

#4. Winterheart’s Guild (2003) — Winterheart’s Guild is the most richly atmospheric and darkly romantic record in Sonata Arctica canon. Yet as much as I love it, I’ve never felt comfortable putting it in league with the other three records of the band’s progenitive quadrilogy. It feels at odds with itself, with tracks like the downright morose “Gravenimage” and “Broken” clashing with the bouncy, relatively silly “Champagne Bath” and “Silver Tongue.” This conflict comes to a head with “The Ruins of My Life,” one the most frustrating song in Sonata Arctica history, which begins life as a monumental power metal battle anthem only to kill its own momentum with an utterly perplexing anti-climax¹⁴. Still, there are great power metal jams to be found in “Abandoned, Pleased, Brainwashed, Exploited,” “The Cage,” and “Victoria’s Secret.” Winterheart’s Guild’s dreamy aesthetic helps these tracks (and the record as a whole) stand out in the band’s discography, as does the bass-heavy production featuring guitars so heavy, they’d feel right at home on a doom metal record.

#3. Ecliptica (1999). Ecliptica opens with what might be the best three-song run in all of power metal. There are some other songs on the album as well!

Okay, that’s ludicrously harsh; Ecliptica is a fantastic power metal record, but I would be lying if I said it was perfectly paced. “Replica” and “Letter to Dana” are great ballads that should have been separated to opposite ends of the record. The same goes for the back-to-back noodle attack of “UnOpened” and “Picturing the Past,” especially as these songs are Ecliptica’s weakest cuts.¹⁵ Otherwise, I struggle to think of a power metal debut that boasts as many iconic tracks as Ecliptica, or one that establishes its artist’s aesthetic so soundly and immediately. Sure, Sonata Arctica was largely aping Stratovarius in those early days, but their distinctly frost-glazed and romantic earnestness was fully intact from the opening measures of “Blank File.” Right out the gate, Ecliptica didn’t just match the quality of Sonata Arctica’s primary influence; it surpassed them.

#2. Silence (2001) — Silence is a bit longwinded. “Last Drop Falls” should have been left on the cutting room floor (there’s a reason why “Tallulah” is the Silence ballad that gets live play), and “The Power of One,” for all its brilliance, could stand to lose a few minutes. Editing qualms aside, Silence represents one of the best collections of power metal one is likely to find. “…of Silence” leading into “Weballergy” makes for one of power metal’s most exhilarating album introductions. “Black Sheep” and “Wolf and Raven” are neoclassical shredfests on par with anything [Luca Turilli(/Leone)’s] Rhapsody [of Fire] ever wrote,¹⁶ and four other songs besides (especially “San Sebastian”) provide exemplary cases of double bass-driven power metal. The fact that Silence lightly experiments with the prog elements that would more greatly define Sonata Arctica’s two following albums only makes it that much more engaging and replayable. Though it may be a smidge unwieldy, I absolutely adore Silence.

#1. Reckoning Night (2004) — I fucking hate “Blinded No More.” It’s an awful, plodding mess, devoid of hooks and energy, and a glaring blight on what is otherwise a perfect record. Reckoning Night, stinky second track aside, is the culmination of Sonata Arctica’s efforts at the height of their glory days. Its expected speed-driven numbers universally excel, yet it somehow shines even brighter when the band gets experimental. With theatrically progressive power metal tracks ranging in theme from body horror Pinocchio (“The Boy Who Wanted to Be a Real Puppet”) to societal vengeance via mass arson (“Wildfire”), Reckoning Night is downright weird, and it masterfully interplays that weirdness with the band’s established strengths. There’s also the lengthy and compelling “White Pearl, Black Oceans,” which, while almost hysterically melodramatic, might just be my favorite song in the band’s history. In short, Reckoning Night is a complete realization of everything Sonata Arctica aimed to achieve from the start, and one of my favorite albums of all time.

Twelve

I love Sonata Arctica nearly as much as I am frustrated by Sonata Arctica. Rarely has a band vexed me so, but then, rarely does a band try out seemingly every new idea that comes into their heads the way these guys do, consequences be damned. I joined the ranks of the band’s fans around 2009, shortly after the release of The Days of Grays, and so was able to enjoy the full Sonata Arctica experience in reverse—”meeting” the band as a symphonic prog-esque sort of creation and moving backwards to realize that they had the power metal inside them all along. You might also say that I became a fan at exactly the wrong moment, at a time when the band’s greatest hits were already well behind them. I have mixed feelings on that—that’s what the list below is for. There are Sonata Arctica albums I absolutely love and ones I’d rather hadn’t existed at all, and, now that I think about it, that’s a pretty rare thing to say about a band you like. Nevertheless, I am looking forward to the imminent release of Clear Cold Beyond and will continue to stick by these guys no matter what they come up with next… which, given their history, is a pretty trusting statement.

The Ranking:

#10. Talviyö (2019) — This will be a short entry, mainly because I don’t remember most of Talviyö—when I think on it, I remember an obscenely compressed-sounding thing with guitars that sound like… not guitars. Nothing on this album, whether in the songwriting, the production, or the approach, resonated with me, and so this is a very easy album to simply rank last without putting too much thought into it. This is the only Sonata Arctica album I simply never came back to.

#9. Silence (2001) — I am very excited to torpedo my credibility here: I just don’t like Silence. A lot of the songs blur together, making the hour-long runtime seem long, and the hooks don’t quite land for me. In later years, Sonata Arctica’s talent for making quiet, emotional power ballads feel deeply meaningful, but even “The End of This Chapter” and “Sing in Silence” don’t work for me. The whole album is just too much, and it would take the slowing down that happened on Winterheart’s Guild and Reckoning Night to produce a sound that could convert me into a fan—this zingy weirdness just didn’t do it.

#8. The Ninth Hour (2016) — I found that The Ninth Hour had very little staying power for me, but I did like what I heard from it. Songs like “Life” and “Till Death’s Done Us Apart” feel like an earnest shot at a genuine return to form, and it was invigorating to hear genuinely catchy, moving, and fun melodies from Sonata Arctica in 2016. But when I walked away from the album, I never felt any desire to return to it. It pops up here and there, but even now I’m struggling to just remember how the songs I liked on this album go. When I listen to them they’re good, but across an uneven album, a lack of memorability was the unfortunate death knell that keeps this one low on my list, promising though it may have been.

#7. Pariah’s Child (2014) — Speaking of returning to form, Pariah’s Child was meant to be exactly that, a breath of fresh air after the ultra-weirdness that was Stones Grow Her Name. And it was a breath of fresh air, filled for the most part with strong songs and clever ideas. I’ve heard bad things said about “X Marks the Spot” but it’s an album highlight for me¹⁷ (I wouldn’t attempt to justify “Love,” however). Really, I don’t have much bad to say about Pariah’s Child—just nothing overwhelmingly positive either. It’s a solid album with a solid theme and a handful of really good songs, which should give you an idea of how much I like the rest of the Sonata Arctica discography.

#6. Stones Grow Her Name (2012)¹⁸ — Without question, Stones Grow Her Name was a grower. As a general rule, I love it when bands go earnestly goofy stuff (X Marks the Spot! X Marks the Spot!), but this one took some time to get used to. Even now, I’m debating if I let it climb too high on this list,¹⁹ and I still think of it as “that” album, the one where Sonata Arctica just kind of dove off the deep end to see what happened and published the result anyway. By the time this came out, I was firmly familiar with the rest of the band’s discography, so I was completely thrown by it. But after a while, the earnest corniness of “I Have a Right,” the familiarity of “Losing My Insanity” and “The Day,” and the scope of the “Wildfire” duo won me over. I understand why people don’t like this Stones Grow Her Name, but I can’t agree anymore. It’s not a knockout by any stretch, but its heavier, often-angrier, and more experimental nature works for me, and I love that the band was willing to release it despite the incredible shift from The Days of Grays. Angry Metal Guy’s Law of Diminishing Recordings™ indeed.²⁰

#5. Ecliptica (1999) — It’s amazing that Ecliptica holds up as well as it does, but there’s just something about this enthusiastic “everything and the kitchen sink” approach to power metal that warms my heart to this day. It’s just so fun! “Kingdom for a Heart” is, of course, a classic, and I can randomly get the chorus of “Destruction Preventer” stuck in my head just from seeing the word “preventer” in print. I didn’t love “FullMoon” as much as everyone else seems to have, but it’s another great example of the young Sonata Arctica throwing themselves on the CD and striking gold high-quality silver. A lot of good debuts in this style have that x factor, that clear sense of passion and excitement and love for what they’re doing and for that, Ecliptica can always put a smile on my face.

#4. Winterheart’s Guild (2003) — Winterheart’s Guild is a beautiful album. It is such a leap from Ecliptica and Silence, but it’s the album I associate most with modern-day Sonata Arctica; when I think about that sound, I think about this album. What Winteheart’s Guild does well is that it balances light and dark themes expertly, while finally, finally allowing the keyboard to shine as the band’s secret weapon. Songs like “Victoria’s Secret” are embedded in the band’s legacy for good reason. I love the speedy touches—”The Ruins of My Life” still sounds like a young power metal band finding their feet—but with touches of maturity that would dominate the following albums. Really, that’s what I like so much about Sonata Arctica on Winterheart’s Guild, you can hear them begin to mature as a band, but that early enthusiasm is still there in a way that they don’t quite repeat again.

#3. Unia (2007) — I’ve never understood why so many people dislike this album. Maybe it’s a question of expectation, and I was lucky enough to discover the band after Reckoning Night? Either way—Unia is awesome. From the first few seconds of “In Black and White” you know what you’re getting here—dark, heavy, angry Sonata Arctica, and none of their albums since have been quite so dark. I love the guitar tone, Kakko’s impassioned singing, and even the lyrics. It’s not often you say that about a Sonata Arctica album, but the thought is evident in songs like “Caleb” and “The Vice,” both in composition and storytelling. It’s hard to adequately explain what it is about Unia’s aesthetic that appeals to me so strongly, but I’ve always found it to be a solid, compelling, heavy album from start to finish.

#2. The Days of Grays (2009) — The Days of Grays made a real run for #1 on this list, and the fact that it was my introduction to Sonata Arctica certainly helped its case. By dialing back on the heaviness from Unia and focusing more on melody, this album forged a memorable identity at a time when the band’s own must have felt a little uncertain. Its real triumph, however, is the spotlight it shines on what has always been, to me, Sonata Arctica’s greatest strength: Tony Kakko’s singing. Songs like “The Dead Skin” and “Juliet” would be almost typical played by most bands writing symphonic power or progressive metal, but the way Kakko’s voice takes you through these songs is almost magical. There are nods to the band’s power metal roots in “Flag in the Ground,” to the band’s innate weirdness in “The Truth Is out There,” and it’s all tied together by an exceptional use of darker themes, vocal melody, and orchestration. Every new album I hope will be a call back to this one, and every time The Days of Grays continues to stand—nearly—alone.

#1. Reckoning Night (2004) — I feel like I’ve written a few controversial opinions since I sat down to put this section together. I also feel I am finally returning to the fold when I say that Reckoning Night is a triumph of an album, and Sonata Arctica’s best. Looking back, it really should be no surprise that this was the predecessor to Unia, but it was also a logical progression from Winterheart’s Guild, upping the heaviness and symphonies while staying reasonably rooted in the band’s power metal… roots. The result is songs like “Ain’t Your Fairtyale,” a terrific power metal tune, “Don’t Say a Word,” a phenomenal experiment in more progressive power metal, and “White Pearl, Black Oceans…”, an emotional behemoth that looms over the album, and, to some extent, the rest of the band’s career. Kakko is again the star; his choral work is seldom better than in this album, and the complement of keys, solos, and riffs that know when to prop him up and when to excel on their own. It’s not a perfect album—none of Sonata Arctica’s are—but it’s the closest they’ve come and has always been a reliable collection, regardless of occasion or mood.

The post AMG Goes Ranking: Sonata Arctica appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The answer is no. The REAL Record o’ the Month is Epigone (and the other two Wilderun albums we’ve reviewed) you uncultured swine. And they’re going to keep BEING the records o’ the month until there is complete agreement in the comment section.

As you know, Wilderun really is the best band active in metal today. I would say they’re tied with Turisas, but since Warlord Nygård has apparently come down with a George R.R. Martinesque case of writer’s block, I’m not sure we could call them “active.” Regardless of competition, however, it’s tough not to appreciate the sheer genius of Epigone upon continued, ongoing reflection. Epigone finds Wilderun doubling down on the dissonant strains that led to one of the best and most epic examples of ‘resolution’ in the history of music. The record is complex, unsettling, and yet strangely sticky; once it gets under your skin, it doesn’t let go. It just continues being the best thing you’re listening to this month, in perpetuity. In a way, Epigone is the gift that keeps giving. It blends that smooth, orchestral approach with something raw and loud and dangerous. Top it off by being brilliantly played, beautiful arranged, and—this is key—it has RotM art that I’ve already made and used on multiple occasions. I can just pop up the same background we used for nearly all of 2022 and leave it up until the next time they release an album. This was a great plan and I should never have caved to the kind of pressure that readers and writers and even friends and family exerted on me. I can give Zadion his much desired win and I don’t have to fuck around with this anymore.

And, frankly, until morale improves down there in the comment section, the beatings will continue.

Runner(s) Up:

Wilderun // Veil of Imagination [Review 1; Review 2] — Wilderun is the only band to repeat as my Record o’ the Year, a fact accomplished because Veil of Imagination is even better than its predecessor. This record is the kind of complete album from an absolutely brilliant band who we all have the privilege of seeing develop before our eyes. There are only so many superlatives that I can write before I become a self-parody—a thing that I know I’m in no risk of becoming, but why risk it?—so I will try to keep this brief. I was right that Veil of Imagination was the starting gun for a new decade of melodic death metal and that it was an iconic album; yet that seems to be the case for everything Wilderun releases. Like Soen’s Lotus or Xoth’s Interdimensional Invocations, Veil of Imagination is a record that clearly exists as more than the sum of its parts; where everything is perfectly in place. The combination of inventive songwriting and arrangements (both songs and the album’s craft and impressive flow), stellar orchestral compositions, and the production, are all wrapped up in a cool concept with amazing artwork. These all complement each other, making Veil of Imagination truly stand out from the crowd. It’s records like this one that remind us all of the strength of the full-length album as an art form. It’s the kind of thing you want to put on in headphones and just sit down to listen.

Wilderun // Sleep at the Edge of the Earth — Sleep at the Edge of the Earth is a special album. In scope, this record is reminiscent of Orphaned Land’s ORwarriOR; it plays like a film score. The songs are littered with hooky, contagious riffs, gorgeous orchestrations, and inspired melodies that creep under your skin. It struck me again on every listen that this album is complete. Sleep at the Edge of the Earth is the very image of what the album as a single unit—an art form—should sound like. Every note is perfectly placed and the songwriting manages to be epic, emotive, and evocative without ever feeling overwrought or cheesy. Wilderun combines all the things I love about metal—orchestral epic vistas, earthy folk music, and melodic death and black strains with excellent clean vocals and startling growls—into a perfect package. The true test of an album, of course, is that it grows with time and 2023 finds Sleep at the Edge of the Earth just as vital and impressive as the day it was released. When I first heard Sleep at the Edge of the Earth, I liked it. Then I set it aside and moved on with my life and when I pulled it out again I loved it. This record has continued to reveal facets and wrinkles I did not notice the first time through as only the best albums ever do. It belongs in the pantheon of truly masterful albums that I own and have had the honor to have featured here at AngryMetalGuy.com.

The post Record(s) o’ the Month – March 2023 appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Victor Smolski’s Almanac has produced three records since 2016. First formed in 2015, following Smolski’s departure from Rage, Almanac was sold as the follow-up to the Rage-adjacent Lingua Mortis Orchestra album from 2013. Having been thoroughly underwhelmed by LMO when it was released and having received Tsar from Nuclear Blast very late, I skipped it. Subsequently, then, I ignored 2017’s Kingslayer and did not notice that we had received Rush of Death until it was too late for its March 2020 release date from Nuclear Blast. That means for the last four years, I have been neglecting—and you have been denied my Very Important Opinion™ about—one of the most idiosyncratic voices in metal: Victor Smolski. And so, in a Swallow the Sun-sized act of hubris,¹ I’m writing a discographic review of Victor Smolski’s Almanac.²

Victor Smolski is the founder, composer and minor guitar deity of Almanac. Smolski should also be the go-to example of “voice” in musical composition. If you had handed me any of the Almanac records with no information, I have no doubts that I would have been able to tell you that the composer and guitarist was Smolski. The man’s unique style, and I say this without any negative evaluation, sounds a bit like he has been trapped in a studio-bunker since 1987 writing the soundtrack for Top Gun 2.³ Smolski’s voice has a strong late-80s/early-90s feel associated with action films and hyper-masculinity. This means that Almanac’s songs are replete with “hockey rock choruses” and ridiculous (and awesome) guitar gymnastics. But Smolski also dates his aesthetic choices by, for example, using piezo pickups every time he breaks out an acoustic (“Last Farewell” [Kingslayer], “Satisfied” [Rush of Death]). Similarly, his compositions are littered with bethrashed blues rock licks that evoke mainstream ‘80s glam and hard rock (“Rein of Madness” [Tsar], “Red Flag” [Kingslayer], “Predator,” and, of particular note, is the use of talkbox on “Blink of an Eye” [Rush of Death]). Yet, few songs push the glam feel very far at all. Instead, the flareups of glamitude transition quickly to crushing riffs and sing-along choruses without blue notes. Lastly, Smolski’s guitar playing dates to a shred-heavy-era that seems home alongside Van Halen, Steve Vai or Joe Satriani. The guitar work throughout his whole body of work is, frankly, sick. The guy is unbelievably talented and he likes his licks fast, furious and loaded with notes and fun guitar tricks. His playing makes all but the most banal of songs instantly way more interesting. One minor critique could be that he’s maybe a little too reliant on gimmicky things like talkboxes or volume/expression pedals, but for me that adds to the sheer volume of how he expresses himself. And his self-expression sounds great. Furthermore, far from being a gimmicky shredder, Smolski’s got a flare for songwriting that places him in a different league from most guys.⁴ Almanac still feels a lot like later Rage; it’s got that German power metal vibe that’s fast and heavy with infectious choruses (“Bought and Sold” [Rush of Death], “Flames of Fate” [Tsar]) and if you like the style, it’s hard to walk away without hearing a thing that will stick with you.

Yet, as the commercials for Monster Ballads were always sure to remind us, “every bad boy has a soft side.” And Victor Smolski is no exception. Rather than just writing straight ballads (though, “Last Farewell” [King Slayer] is), this softer side is made up of Smolski’s impressive orchestral compositions. For me, the epic scope of Almanac is part of what makes Smolski’s writing voice unique. He combines his hard rock impulses with orchestra in ways that raise the level when compared to almost any other hard rock band. Yet, unlike a Blind Guardian or Nightwish or [(Luca) Turilli(’s) / Lione] Rhapsody [of Fire] Smolski doesn’t lose himself to the desire to write a ‘pure’ symphony. Instead, he uses orchestrations in ways that complement his metal by linking songs to help maintain conceptual coherence (Rush of Death) or, more commonly on the first two albums, to help make the choruses even bigger and more epic. Interestingly, one of the things that really distinguishes the albums from each other is how the orchestrations are used. Tsar (2016) features orchestra heavily, backing up the riffing and introducing melodies (“Self-Blinded Eyes,” “Darkness,” “Children of the Future” [Tsar]). By Kingslayer, the orchestrations had been rolled back a bit, though they served a similar role at times (“Guilty as Charged” or “Kingdom of the Blind” [Kingslayer]), introducing riffs and melodies. By Rush of Death, the orchestrations have taken a backseat, being used more transitionally.

The changes between the records are subtle, but important. Tsar primarily features, for example, two vocalists—David Readman (Pink Cream 69, ex-Adagio)—whose classic, reedy power metal stylings immediately reminded me of Adagio’s classic Sanctus Ignis before I even realized who he was—and Brainstorm’s Andy B. Franck. By Kingslayer, Jeannette Marchewka was playing a much more prominent role, splitting the vocal duties more evenly with Readman and Franck. By Rush of Death, the two men had gone, leaving Marchewka and Patrick Sühl as the primary vocalists, splitting the vocal duties fairly evenly between them. Sühl, like Franck and Readman, has a classic German power sound: an affected, gravely performance in the second tenor range. Marchewka, rather than playing beauty to Sühl’s beast, also has a classic power metal delivery. The multiple vocalists are at their best when they are used in tandem, nailing harmonies and having the added benefit of adding grit to the band’s sound while also sometimes functioning like a choir. And one might expect vocal changes to be noticeable from album-to-album, but Victor Smolski has largely selected vocalists with a similar timbre, range and approach. The similarity of his choice of vocalists means that he is easily able to swap them in and out with little fuss. Similarly, it says something, in my opinion, that the rhythm section has been replaced and that there is no noticeable difference. Bassist Tim Rashid and drummer Kevin Kott, who joined in 2017 and 2018 respectively, are clearly very talented musicians, but the roles that musicians fill in Almanac are secondary to Smolski’s vision for the band.

If Smolski’s unique voice is Almanac’s primary appeal, it is also its biggest drawback. He has a truly unique aesthetic approach in modern metal and I can think of no major label metal band with a sound that feels so authentically anachronistic as his. But there’s also a cheese and machismo that feels stuck in the same time period as Smolski’s voice. Of the three, Rush of Death ultimately suffers the most from this. The seemingly unreflective comparison between the racing of cars and gladiatorial combat strikes me as, honestly, a bit silly. And this is made worse by lyrics that can range between awkward and just downright silly. The worst example of this is the track “Like a Machine” (Rush of Death), which features the line “Attracted to the crack / Compelled to stay on track.” Now, I believe this to be about racing: that is, everyone is trying to get the inside lane as they go around in circles. But the phrase “Attracted to the crack” is the most awkward phrase I can remember hearing in a metal song since I first discovered Sonata Arctica. Similarly, I’m not entirely sure what Tsar is about, as the lyrics are not totally clear. But is there a bit of a creepy Serenity/Fleshgod Apocalypse-esque note of “maybe this genuinely-pretty-terrible-person-and-or-thing was good?” that arises from writing an album from the perspective of the Tsar (for example, the song “Hands Are Tied”)? I don’t know, but I try not to think too much about it.

Looked at as a whole, Almanac has released three albums that show Smolski and company to be remarkable talents. Of the three, Kingslayer is the weakest. It followed so quickly on the heels of Tsar that while it features really good material and is a fun album to listen to, it struggles to live up to its predecessor or to differentiate itself enough. In the second spot has to be Rush of Death. It’s a very good album, but it features some downright embarrassing narrations and a questionable analogy that make it a little bit difficult to fully buy in. It’s 2016’s Tsar that stands atop the pile, a great album with excellent writing. Maybe its biggest flaw is that the orchestrations sound like the keyboards they are, as opposed to having the full pomposity that comes with a real orchestra or state-of-the-art samples. While all three are technically concept albums, Tsar and Rush of Death are the ones that utilize the album format and take advantage of the orchestrations, making them integral to the flow of the record. But though the quality varies, all three of these albums are addictive and fun and which you will struggle to stop listening to once you start.

Listening to Almanac’s entire discography like this has given me the chance to really appreciate Victor Smolski’s writing voice and to diagnose exactly what it is that I love about it. Quite simply, there is not another band around that manages to do such a good job of straddling the barrier between modern metal and classic hard rock. There’s an undeniable and beautiful authenticity to this material because you can tell that this guy—and this band—is making exactly the music he wants to be listening to. And, it seems, that’s the music I want to be listening to, as well.

Ratings: Great! [Tsar] | Good! [Kingslayer] | Very Good! [Rush of Death]
DRs: 5, 5 [Tsar, RoD], N/A (probably 5) [Ks | Formats Reviewed: v0 mp3 [Tsar, RoD], Stream [Ks]
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: almanac.band | facebook.com/almanacvsband
Release Dates: March 18th, 2016 [Tsar], November 24th, 2017 [Kingslayer], March 6th, 2020 [Rush of Death]

The post Almanac – A Discographic Review [Tsar (2016), Kingslayer (2017) and Rush of Death (2020)] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Despite dropping debut The Prodigal Empire’s style of twisting ferocity into memorability, II stuffs a hell of a lot of character into its 39-minute runtime. Vale cut close to a Beyond Creation with less deathcore but overlap with The Black Dahlia Murder and Allegaeon in their melodic reliance. The screech-and-growl tandem and harmonious intent of “Heart of Darkness” illustrate II’s prominent TBDM comparisons, but even little moments like the opening drum flourish on “The Horror in Clay” draw my mind right to “Moonlight Equilibrium.” “Reaver,” too, plays off a central TBDM direction that is unexpectedly catchy, given how downright heavy it can be at times. Some of this stems from new vocalist Reece Deeter, who imprints the album with much of its brutality and spirit. His commanding growls tag-team with Alan Paredes’ essential stick-and-move bass work to offset Vale’s supercharged guitar tones. Highlight “The Serpent’s Lair” distills a myriad of influences into the perfect blend of eclectic depth, murderous rage, and shockingly effective breakdowns. With everyone from Gorod’s Mathieu Pascal and Nicolas Alberny to Ryan Glisan (ex-Allegaeon) guest starring, you can be sure that the solo work on II wants for nothing.

The moderation and intent levied in Vale’s songwriting elevates II above The Prodigal Empire and into the higher echelon of tech death. The band wisely aim for a well-balanced middle ground, only taking as much from their influences as necessary. Vale’s technicality avoids in-your-face First Fragmenty, sticking to tangible construction instead of gluing Yngwie Malmsteen posters to the wall. Likewise, they never stray into full deathcore monotony; their chug sessions, such as on “The Serpent’s Lair,” provide the backbone for an ambush of spiraling rhythms that gladly take center stage. Smatterings of Necrophagist, Obscura, and even Vektor flesh the guitarwork out, while the restrained use of Allegaeon’s love-it-or-hate-it flamenco acoustics pops up now and again.

I find it difficult to gripe about an album of this magnitude. My major issues center on the sadly par-for-the-course DR5 mix and a few tracks that stick around past their natural end point. Overall, II is a fine piece of work that I only wish I’d gotten to sooner in the year. I am proud to say Vale of Pnath have inched me just a little closer to true tech death fandom.

Tracks to Check Out: “The Serpent’s Lair,” “Klendathu,” “The Horror in Clay,” and “Unburied”

The post Vale of Pnath – II [Things You Might Have Missed 2016] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

If you look back through the top ten archives of the site, you’ll find it’s not uncommon to see a band on a list that was never reviewed by us. If a promo doesn’t come through our hand-hewn bone doors, it doesn’t get reviewed. But, even with that rule in place, there’re just too many promos arriving on a weekly basis to catch them all. What is uncommon is an album that not only landed on a couple lists but also took the top spot. So, what does this mean for Mistur’s In Memoriam? Well… it means this sum bitch needs a review.

Since rediscovering In Memoriam toward the end of last year, we’ve been inseparable. I’ve sat in the snow with it, graded exams with it, and even fell asleep with it. It’s wooed me and terrified me, loved me and toyed with me. And it did it with a combination of atmospheric synths, mesmerizing pianos, clean vocals, harsh vox, and a score of headbangeable riffs. Aggression at war with beauty, joy battling melancholy. Toss in that nostalgic Windir vibe with Øien and Bakketeig’s dynamic vocals and you get not only Grier’s Record o’ the Year, but one of the finest examples of black/Viking/melodeath bliss.

What the band has done since their debut, Attende, is hone seven years of silence into something that resembles a Grier sentence—lengthy and wordy, yet concise and magnificently structured. OK, so the comparison to my writing isn’t all correct (just the latter part is), but I think you get the point. “Firstborn Son” and “The Sight” are packed to the gills with everything you could ever want. Yet, they have the same conciseness as a five-minute ditty. They allow ample time for the mood to settle in but never allow it to become stale. The riffs change, the mood becomes more aggressive, and the listener’s neck comes under great strain. Every track undergoes massive twists and turns, each supplying unique riffage, synths, and vocals; thereby, creating a well-rounded record.

Furthermore, In Memoriam uses the keys and clean vocals with greater effect than it did on Attende. Songs like “Downfall,” “Matriarch’s Lament,” and “Tears of Remembrance” would fall to the wayside if it wasn’t for those impressive keys. Along with that, “Downfall” and “Tears of Remembrance” bookend the album with more perfection than the Christian deity. And between the synths of “Downfall” and the gorgeous, melodic piano segments of “Tears of Remembrance” lies a washboard road carved out by the crushing treads of “Firstborn Son” and “The Sight” and the funeral processions of “Distant Peaks” and “Matriarch’s Lament.” These six tracks work together as the perfect team—neither stealing each other’s thunder or tanking a play. For me, In Memoriam is without filler. And, though I love “The Sight” the best, the record is impossible to appreciate unless listened to from beginning to end.

If this were a full review of In Memoriam, I’d be more than a little tempted to give it a 4.5/5.0. Which is saying something, considering I have yet to give a record a score of 4.5/5.0. I know 2016 has come and gone, but if you still haven’t checked this out, you should. Don’t worry, you can trust me. After all, I am a doctor.

Tracks to Check Out: ”Downfall,” “Firstborn Son,” “The Sight,” and “Tears of Remembrance”

The post Mistur – In Memoriam [Things You Might Have Missed 2016] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

If you’re lucky enough to live in a city like Chicago where live music is easy to come by anytime, there’s probably one venue above all others that you think of as your place. For me, that’s Reggies. It’s a quick bus and train ride away from home, and they book more metal than anyone else in town. The atmosphere is friendly, the place is plastered in stickers all the way down to the urinals, and there’s a pretty kickass record store upstairs that’s open if you want to miss a band. I’ve been to who knows how many shows there in the past few years and have never found much to fault the place. Never change, Reggies.

Doors were at seven, and I showed up a little before 8 to a mysteriously empty space. This would change. Vukari eventually took the stage and set to work on carving their name into my memory. The local band’s well-paced and dramatic atmospheric black metal was an instant success, and they carried my attention across a set that was crammed with quality offerings. Having not heard them before, I was happily surprised, and I have to say that they were well-matched with the trio of bands that would follow. Kvlt but classy, Vukari entered and exited without so much as speaking their name, and played without any kind of stage lighting — they didn’t need any to get their point across.

Phobocosm were light on the chatter as well, but heavy on, well, everything else. The three-piece put out some seriously massive and hideous noise, alternating between songs from Deprived and this year’s Bringer of Drought. Not being as familiar with Deprived, I got the most out of the cavernous death-doom of “Tidal Scourge,” but I was constantly impressed by just how fucking heavy the band was. Well, that and how much the spotlights seemed to love this can of PBR sitting in the center of the stage. The tree of a man a few feet to my right that showed up in a trench coat and Bringer of Drought t-shirt had the time of his life, though.

The real surprise of the night for me was Zhrine. Yes, I listened to Unortheta when it came out, and I liked it quite a bit, but it’s been a busy year and my death metal focused one-track mind left it by the wayside. The atmosphere they created was electric, equal parts unforgiving and beautiful. Seeing the album played live, witnessing the ebb and flow, and the sudden shifts between melancholy and ferocity were really something else. Their subtly unorthodox techniques and instrumentation — an electric upright bass, played with both bow and fingers, and frequent use of bowed guitar in their ambient passages — brought a whole new dimension to their music that I really appreciated. I’ll definitely be listening to the album more in the future, intermittently with Vukari’s Divination.

I was pressed up against the stage from the first moments of Vukari, and by the time I thought to turn around and check how many people showed up for the headliner, Reggie’s was packed. And how could it not be? I’ve been hoping to catch Ulcerate in my hemisphere for about half a decade, and no force on Earth was going to remove me from the front row. As the crew assembled Jamie St. Merat’s behemoth of a drum kit, the tension began to build, and the band released all of it with the jarring first notes of “Abrogation.” Speaking of three-pieces that produce a whole lot of sound, Ulcerate just about eroded my scalp off with the kick drums alone, and watching the trio tear through a thousand contortions in service of absolute, hopeless devastation was a true privilege. They followed up with “Await Rescission” and the greatly impactful “Extinguished Light,” and I thought I’d never witness something like it again. I was wrong. They were working their way back through the Ulcerate canon between each new song, and their pick for The Destroyers of All was none other than “Cold Becoming.” If I had a soul, it would have left my body four and a half minutes in.

The band finished up with “Shrines of Paralysis,” “Everything is Fire,” and “End the Hope,” and I left Reggies deeply satisfied. Since buses only run about every half an hour or something crazy late at night, I walked home from the train and ran into the single largest opossum I’ve ever seen sauntering its way through Washington Park. In my contented stupor, I tried to catch it, but the poor little marsupial was so tragically sluggish that I didn’t bother harassing it past the first bush it scurried into. Besides, this was their time. I was trespassing, pulled back to my reality after slipping out of it for a few brief hours to contemplate its powerful pointlessness. After all the despair and nihilism of the night, the fat didelphid was a welcome reassurance. There is life here, even between the cold, interminable twilight of street lamps and the rain percolating through barren trees.

Thanks for an excellent night are in order and go out to Reggies, Vukari, Phobocosm, Zhrine, Ulcerate, and the Great American Biotic Interchange.

The post Concert Review: Ulcerate, Zhrine, Phobocosm, and Vukari at Reggie’s, Chicago, Illinois – November 27th, 2016 appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Why we would be receiving a promo (with a 2017 release date) for a record that has been out since March of 2016 is beyond me. Well, it’s not beyond me because this sort of thing happens all the time. Sometimes it occurs because of a band’s recent signing and re-release of an album or, other times, it’s because a new distribution deal sends the record overseas. Regardless the reason for the delay, I couldn’t pass up a last-minute TYMHM for Uprising’s self-titled debut. Lucky for you, I have the kind of mole-like vision and cuttlefish hearing necessary for this job.

What initially caught my attention with Uprising is its mix of hard-hitting instrumentation and melodic atmospheres. Sure, other black metal outfits (like most of the second-wave acts) have these qualities, but Uprising combines subtlety with control. Every build, rasp, riff, blastbeat, clean vocal line, and acoustic guitar lick are deliberate and calculated. The production is much cleaner than your typical black metal release, which allows every instrument to ring through. And, just like so many great bands in 2016, a single employee mans this German outfit. The mysterious W—as he’s called—handled everything, including the pleasant DR7 mix.

And the fruits of W’s labor come through seconds into “Introduction.” While the opener’s title is horribly unoriginal, it sets the tone for the rest of the album. With growing guitars/drums and loads of movie sound bytes, a hopelessness is created that slithers and crawls its way into the album’s remaining tracks. Follow-up “Uprise” rides the opener’s train of thought, building its own introduction before black-and-blue riffage pummels your face. This is no tremolo-ed, treble-heavy blitzkrieg. Instead, it’s hard-hitting, headbanging black metal. Complete with melodic interludes, distant choirs, and a chorus that’ll soon have you fronting your own rebellion.

“Thrones to Overthrow” and “Behold the Eternity of Stars” share the same characteristics as “Uprise,” but, at the same time, they shoot for a higher level of epicness; doing their best to out-build and out-riff their predecessor. These two songs even utilize enthralling Dissection leads and solos to do the job. The result are two examples of majestic—and aggressive—black metal. “Ravens in Dark Skies” and “Nihilistic Chants” keep up the melodicness, but with a more sinister, mid-paced trot. The Quorthon-like vocals spew hate like it was sunflower seeds and the chug-to-melody ratio leaves me in trance. But the most menacing of the seven tracks is “Gather the Dark Spirits.” And it’s this very song that shows the layers that Uprising possesses. “Gather the Dark Spirits” is about as death metal as a black metal song can get. The vocals bark and growl, and the riffs churn out images of the apocalypse.

At the end of the day, that’s what makes Uprising so engaging. It’s simplistic black metal, but with an approach and diversity that keeps it fresh. The riffs kick ass, the atmosphere sucks you deep into an unknown chasm, and its forty-minute runtime is the cherry on top. Toss in some dynamics and raw, yet clean, production and you have a band (and a man) with a shitload of potential.

Tracks to Check Out: ”Uprise,” “Gather the Dark Spirits,” and “Behold the Eternity of Stars”

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The album kicks off with church bells and military style snare rolls. “Himmelstrasse (330ft)” relies on the latter to drive its main riff, which is admittedly the strongest part of the track and is more effective than the verses at establishing an evil atmosphere. “Return of the Loving Dead,” which is sadly not a Nekromantix cover (that would have been hilarious,) tries to outdo the opener with a barrage of high-speed gurgling, tremolo picking, and snare abuse. A few times the pace subtly shifts between high and mid-tempo, but the track culminates with on a slower ending that feels more like running out of steam than finishing with an evil dirge. Slow often means heavier or more disconcerting, but here the necessary conviction just doesn’t come across.

This turns out to be a bit of a running issue throughout the album. Omnizide tries to create an evil atmosphere, which black metal is, of course, tailor-made for, but while the fast sections sound tolerable (though not particularly inspired) the slower sections sound rather numb and flat. Vocalist Nox (Craft) is committed enough to the malicious sound as he croaks with all the verve of a decrepit arch villain, but he does sound much better spitting his lyrics at high-speed compared to his zombified plodding on “Walls of Flesh” or the overlong “Devil in Me.” Such a lifelessness doesn’t enthuse the listener much, no matter how evil. There’re some decent riffs and rolling tremolos to be found, but they sound too tired to really catch on.

The most obvious cause would be the production, which I wouldn’t call bad in the context of the genre, but could be considered misguided. It’s not a high fidelity production, but it’s not the type of metal to expect that and at least it doesn’t sound like an old dying vacuum cleaner. The mix is more problematic, though, as the vocals and drums are too forward and the guitars, which contain the only discernible melody, are pushed back. Nox’s croaking doesn’t have the variety to carry the songs by himself, so it’s no wonder the faster sections where the drums get more use are the most exciting sections of the album. While I doubt the unenthusiastic demeanor of the band would be fixed with a more balanced mix, it can surely be said to exacerbate the problem.

In short, while NekroRegime is not a truly bad album, most of the tracks just don’t feel as lively as they should to be effective. They feel too tired and rote; it’s almost as if the band had already over-rehearsed and decided to do one last take and use that for the album. Obviously, the mostly mid-paced material would never crackle with blistering energy, but more engaging melodic work played with spirit and a more consistent evil atmosphere would have helped a lot in making the album a success. A hardcore black metal enthusiast might find something to like here, but this is not the kind of material that will make me don corpsepaint and slaughter a pig anytime soon.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Carnal Records
Websites: facebook.com/omnizide
Releases Worldwide: December 16th, 2016

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Yet through all the spitefulness, Triumph of Gloom is first and foremost a hell of a lot of blasting fun, with the disparate styles gelling fantastically and striking a sweet chemical reaction. Short, compact and brimming with hateful energy, Triumph of Gloom rips out one nasty, hook-fueled song after the next, from the chunky riffs and engaging melodies of the sample-strewn instrumental opener “On the Unknown Self They Weep” through to longer compositions like the spectacular guitar theatrics and urgent blackened melodic death of “A Spell of Sorrow to Relieve the Curse of Triumph.” Although the noisy, lo-fi production lends the album a chaotic feel, lots of attention has been paid to writing cohesive, carefully structured jams and well-placed hooks and melodies. Triumph of Gloom is also home to some delightfully creative and convoluted track titles as an added bonus.

Even in the midst of the album’s raw, noisy delivery, intentionally underdone production and demon-possessed, glass-chewing shrieks, the strong melodic sensibility should not be understated. Beneath the layers of noise, grime, and grit, tracks like “Sorcery” and “Ease of Wretchedness and Wonder” feature an abundance of sparkling harmonies and some triumphantly affecting melodies, counter-punched by the caustic delivery and raw aggression. “Trampled by Wolves and Sheep” coalesces Rebel Wizard’s influences into a skin-flaying package of awesomeness, its punky blackened stride complimented by spikey speed, trad-metal flourishes and high-wire guitar work, along with a more versatile vocal performance. The song absolutely slays and oozes rabid energy and unhinged aggression. Much like the opener, closing track “Hemorrhage Wonders” showcases subtle restraint while allowing Nekrasov the freedom to wig-out and unleash his soulful guitar chops.

Of course, it’s arguable that a slightly tidied up and beefier production could have enriched the album without sacrificing the raw aesthetics, but that would also run the risk of diminishing the fire in this beast’s belly. In the end, the unvarnished production is a big part of Rebel Wizard’s charm. Sounding like the bastard child of the NWoBHM movement and the darkest, most cvlt-ish underground thrashy black metal band, Rebel Wizard is the real deal and Triumph of Gloom is one of 2016’s most pleasantly unpleasant surprises.

Tracks to Check Out: ”Trampled by Wolves and Sheep,” “A Spell of Sorrow to Relieve the Curse of Triumph,” and “Eat the Warlock”

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Wisely Dunsmuir pared this sucker down to the bare essentials, ripping through a compact, high-energy collection of punchy tunes with much of the material sounding like a not too distant cousin to modern day Clutch and to a similar extent, Fallon and Bone’s The Company Band project. Considering Clutch is still firing on all cylinders, this could be seen as a disappointment, however, the outside influences and songwriting quirks separate Dunsmuir from the interrelated pack. Tasty guitar licks and a boisterous and highly infectious chorus lifts the album off to a bright start on “Hung on the Rocks,” before the tempo is lifted considerably on the upbeat and very Clutch-esque drive of “Our Only Master.” Meanwhile, “The Bats (Are Hungry Tonight)” rocks a darker, hard hitting groove to fun effect.

Following a strong beginning, the album hits a couple of less remarkable moments but it rarely slows the rocking momentum. Dunsmuir mostly operate at a boisterous mid-paced to occasionally faster groove. However, one of the album highlights showcases a heavier, Sabbath-inspired doomy flair and it’s a real treat. “Church of the Tooth” is a monstrous tune built on a raucous foundation of thick, bluesy doom groove and Southern swagger, backed by another excellent vocal performance from Fallon. Should the band return for a second effort, more of this doomier side would be most welcome. Boasting a touch more aggression and adventurous songwriting, the second half of the album is a grower that rewards repeat plays, rounding out a well-balanced album. Closer “Crawling Chaos” is not the album’s best or most immediate song, but its gritty delivery and edgy rhythms ensure the album doesn’t go out with a whimper.

The experienced rhythm section locks down some tight grooves, keeping things straightforward and expressive, driving the songs in a no-frills fashion compared to the more intricate jazzy shuffle of Jean-Paul Gaster and Dan Maines. But thankfully Appice knows his way around the kit, injecting his own style and stamping his class while holding down a fat bottom end rumble with Davis. Bone’s guitar work is solid throughout, blending styles into a package of groovy, riff driven delights, incorporating elements of classic rock, doom, trad metal, stoner and blues-infused heavy rock. Fallon’s performance is typically top notch, reinforcing his status as one of rock music’s most charismatic and unique vocalists. He has loads of fun putting his zany lyrical powers to work around the supernatural and nautically inspired album concept, relating to the survivors of a 19th-century shipwreck.

Clutch comparisons are inevitable, however, Dunsmuir bring enough dark and quirky elements and slick hooks to make their own solid impression. Though Dunsmuir doesn’t quite hit the highs of Earth Rocker or Psychic Warfare, it’s a highly enjoyable album of heavy, nautical-themed hard rock goodness.

Tracks to Check Out: ”Hung on the Rocks,” “Church of the Tooth,” and “Our Only Master”

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