The Black Dahlia Murder is a band I’ve had the honor of watching develop throughout its entire career. With its debut in 2003, an album that I think stands up much better than the chuckleheads below, the Michigan melodic death metal act has been with me for twenty years. I saw them opening for bands before anyone knew who they were, and I was buying each new release on release day. In 2024, The Black Dahlia Murder faces new challenges, moving on from the tragic loss of vocalist and scene giant Trevor Strnad and they will release Servitude on the 27th of September (that’s tomorrow, yes). So, before I unleash my Very Important Opinions™ on the world about the new full-length LP, we thought that a romp through the band’s discography seemed in order. Note that anyone who tells you that Ritual isn’t their best album is lying to you. – Angry Metal Guy

The Ranking(s)

Dr. Wvrm

#9. Unhallowed (2002). At first glance, you would be forgiven for thinking Unhallowed is by a completely different band. This album is three kids standing on each other’s shoulders and wearing a trench coat next to the other records in this catalog. But despite how far TBDM still has to go from this point, Unhallowed has its positives. Its take on 90s Gothenburg is interesting, if not always good, and it certainly doesn’t lack energy. “Elder Misanthropy” is the first entry into the pantheon of all-time TBDM jams, even if it’s a messy one. It’s a long way up from here for the boys from Michigan, but you can clearly see the seeds of what’s to come in this debut.

#8. Verminous (2020). That Verminous is the low point of modern TBDM despite being pretty good says quite a lot about the level of output this band has maintained for the last 20 years. The album maintains the reflexive phase started by Abysmal (more on that in a bit), feeling more like a down-and-dirty expansion of their ideas on Everblack at times. The execution, however, falls further down than I’d like. For a band with bangers aplenty, Verminous never finds its bonafide hit and feels stuck in first gear.

#7. Abysmal (2015). Don’t get me wrong—Abysmal features some of the strongest fretwork in TBDM’s catalog (with Ryan Knight still on board at this point, who is surprised by this?). But coming at the tail of an incredible four-album run, Abysmal’s return to hyperkinetic hooks and solos begins a third phase in the band’s catalog. Instead of pushing onward and outward from the progressive attitude of Everblack, TBDM refocuses and uses the lessons learned throughout their years of experimentation to revitalize their core sound. As a result, Abysmal feels more like a transition record between eras than anything else. In theory, it’s not doing too much differently from Deflorate, and unfortunately feels a bit stale by comparison. TBDM would find a way around the all-been-done-before feel by their next album, but with Abysmal, the retread weighs a bit heavier than you’d like.

#6. Miasma (2005). Miasma demonstrates instant growth over TBDM’s debut. If Unhallowed was a rough attempt at mid-90s melodeath, Miasma surges forward to the turn-of-the-century fusion of melodic death metal and mainstream metalcore production.¹ Though they wouldn’t stick with this sound for long, there’s so much across Miasma to like, from the cleaner production and maturing songwriting to the charisma that is now starting to bleed through every facet of the music. Strnad’s famous dual vocals really come into their own here, and the rest of the performances aren’t far behind. Though there’s still one piece of the puzzle remaining, you can see the full picture starting to resolve.

#5. Deflorate (2009). This album proved not only that TBDM wasn’t a one-album wonder, but that they also weren’t a one-trick pony. Ryan Knight joined the band from Arsis and overnight launched TBDM’s lead guitar capabilities into the stratosphere. But what looked like Nocturnal on nitro on its face sees, under the hood, Brian Eschbach’s songwriting quietly started to push the boundaries of the band’s imagination and capacity. Closer “I Will Return” veers hard left from everything to that point, touching on patient development and melodic progressions in a way that we could have only guessed TBDM was capable of (“Warborn”). It may lack the highs of some other records, but Deflorate is where TBDM started to show the depths of their abilities.

#4. Everblack (2013). Those of you who know I love TBDM know why I love TBDM,² and what I want isn’t in steady supply on Everblack. What is, however, is perhaps the pinnacle of TBDM’s exploratory songwriting and certainly the heights of Knight’s solo abilities (“Into the Everblack”). Everblack is a grower in a catalog of showers, operating in many ways like a prog death album in its attention to detail and willingness to fiddle with genre conventions. It’s also Strnad at his most diverse, leading an excellent full-ensemble performance from melodeath to straight death to black metal and back again. My personal predilection for beeg boi melojams is the only reason this isn’t placing higher on this list; on an objective quality scale, Everblack is aces.

#3. Ritual (2011). Now we’re talking. Everything up to this point had something holding it back for me, be it concept, style, or execution. Ritual is the first record on this list where any quibbles I have are so minor as to be unmentionable. Delivering on the promise of “I Will Return,” Ritual ain’t afraid to get a little weird. Off-kilter takes like “Den of the Picquerist” are exotic curios from a faraway land next to two prior records that spent 95% of their runtime turning your ass into tenderized steak. Here, a more interesting weapon of choice filters into the core proceedings of the record, with offerings like “On Stirring Seas of Salted Blood” providing the perfect chaser to the moonshine shot of “Moonlight Equilibrium.” This is the band’s most complete offering, giving you a taste of everything TBDM has dreamt up over their career, and I venture that Ritual would be one (or two!) spot(s) on this list higher… if I weren’t such a weenie.³

#2. Nightbringers (2017). But I am such a weenie.⁴ Is Nightbringers effectively Nocturnal with the world’s greatest spit shine? Sure is, and cui gives a shit? It’s got the most polished bow on it you’ll ever see. If you like riffs, and if you like hooks, and if you like them at the same time and in copious quantities, Nightbringers is all you’ll ever need. TBDM poured fifteen years of hard-won lessons and honed songcraft into revitalizing one of the most well-loved and well-regarded (by people with taste) albums in the genre. As such, it feels fresh and new and worth every second of your time, rather than like a lazy nostalgia mine. Most bands would be so lucky as to ape a classic album half as well as this, let alone have it be their own classic album. Speaking of…

#1. Nocturnal (2007). Simply put, Nocturnal is TBDM. This record is the culmination of every moment before it, to where every moment traces back. It was an instant star-maker at the time and a bonafide classic in hindsight. At the core of the band, when you strip off the years of experience and experimentation, the one constant is this sound. Like no other band, TBDM reclaimed the ’90s Swedeath buzzsaw riff and forged it anew in a bloodbath of nitro, horror-movie worship, and unfailing self-seriousness. As Nocturnal unfurls, each track seems certain to be impossible to top, only for the very next entry to do just that. Trying to pick just one Nocturnal song for a playlist (like the one below) invites an hour of “Well wait, what about…” That might not be the best reason to put an album (or two!) ahead of what is an unquestionably more well-rounded entry in Ritual, but it’s certainly the best reason to consider it among your favorite albums more than fifteen years later.

Dolphin Murderer

I don’t typically consider myself a fan of melodeath at large. But select acts that rest on what I would consider the more intense and/or techy side, Intestine Baalism, Arsis, Quo Vadis, Neuraxis, Anata, really grease my grumpy gears. And, among those, naturally, rests the oft-imitated, not quite-matched American giant The Black Dahlia Murder. I didn’t explore their catalog as they were first coming to light as I wasn’t allowed to. You see, I fancied myself a metalhead and all the -core kiddies liked bad music like Darkest Hour, All That Remains, Trivium, and The Black Dahlia Murder. So it took until sometime in my early 20s, sometime around Ritual, to even consider hitting this hallowed act. All because a cute girl with a forked tongue happened to be in my college public speaking class and wearing a sick The Black Dahlia Murder tee. Turns out she wasn’t into dudes. But I lucked into a different partner out of it all, one with sick riffs and vocal prowess that causes newcomers to think that these Michigan boys have two vocalists.

Riff in peace, Trevor.

#9. Unhallowed (2002). Armed equally with the weight of Carcass low-end harmonies and At the Gates Björriffs, TBDM hit the ground running with a gluttonous, thrash-loaded, melodeath pittin’ spree. This debut Unhallowed couldn’t have been more emblematic of the consistency that TBDM would embody throughout their career. As the start of a sound that would become part of the heavy metal dialogue, it’s really almost there in terms of quality. Strnad may not sound as comfortable in his shriek ‘em high and rattle ‘em low vocal attack, but with riffs as nasty as the latchkey turndown of “Closed Casket Reqiuem” and “Hymn for the Wretched,” he doesn’t always need to be the focus.

#8. Verminous (2020). Despite this release being the most recent of the bunch, it is also the one I recalled the least going into this ranking. When Verminous came to be it landed on my ears as a disappointment, though not necessarily a bad record. Frankly, I don’t think TBDM is capable of that. However, Verminous takes risks that other albums haven’t taken, like turning the classical lower-tuned harmonic riffs and scooping them closer to true thrash tones. Simultaneously, this allows stringslinger Brandon Ellis’ treble-focused leads to play about in a fashion that tiptoes the line between power metal cheese and melodeath flamboyance (“Godlessly,” “Removal of the Oaken Stake”). Couple that with Strnad essentially rapping at a couple of points (primarily in the percussive bounce of “How Very Dead”), and you’ve got a solid album after all with a few new wrinkles.

#7. Abysmal (2015). Similarly to Verminous, Abysmal crawls about specific production choices that highlight lead guitarist Ryan Knight’s neoclassical, virtuosic warbling. Namely, it’s louder and thrashier. While the album that came before it, Everblack, never wanted for more shred, its rhythm-focused drive—a more death metal-focused TBDM stance—did not allow sonic space for Abysmal’s inclusion of additional instruments like cellos and violins to have a place amongst the assault. Furthermore, with the increased focus on Knight’s playful prowess, each song includes easy-to-recognize marks of differentiation, whether it be a snappy intro (“Receipt,” “Abysmal”), a wicked solo (every song), or a Strnad-led crusher (“Re-Faced,” “The Advent”). It’s hard to get too much of Knight, Strnad, or TBDM when they’re this fun and tight.

#6. Everblack (2013). If you’re approximately my age, then certainly you’ve heard cries of TBDM ”not being metal” or “being metalcore.” Did you know that Metal Archives doesn’t even list metalcore as a past iteration of their sound?⁵ Well, if nothing to this point had convinced you, then Everblack would be the one to listen to. Listen, I’m not going to sit here and say you should like TBDM, but with Morbid Angel riffs crushing through slower-than-blast pace numbers (“Into the Everblack,” “Phantom Limb Masturbation”), bass rattle that won’t quick, and Ryan Knight still doing that “is he Yngwie or Greg Howe” shred to fusion-y blues thing, Everblack gives plenty of reasons why you TBDM is a death metal act first. Though the album starts a touch slow and runs long for an experience that subsists almost solely on riffs, it’s very hard to say that anything should go away. Just carve a little more time if you’re gonna jam this one.

#5. Deflorate (2009). Representing the ultimate crystallization of the TBDM sound to this point in their history, Deflorate is an absolutely consistent experience. In different hands, hands that have trouble crafting good songs, that might be an issue. But sticking true to the TBDM formula of harmonic overload, At the Gates / early-Carcass riffs, and Strnad giving a performance that no vocalist could match in this lane, Deflorate is also an easy-to-enjoy success. Notably, this is Ryan Knight’s first appearance (fresh from a stint with melotech legends in their own right, Arsis) at the helm of lead shred duties, which allows Deflorate to have a quality of guitar heroism that no album prior quite had. That’s not to say that past leadwork was subpar by any stretch, but when you hear the elegance of play on tracks like “Necropolis” or “Christ Deformed” against any of the solo breaks that came before them, it’s a whole different ball game. Ryan Knight kills it and keeps Deflorate from being just another riff-rippin’ TBDM album.

#4. Miasma (2005). From a very base stance, Miasma isn’t all too different in attack from the debut. But having already done it once at full-length, and even more on the road, TBDM took huge steps in the polish and tightening of their identity. In particular, the man, the myth, the legend Trevor Strnad steps into his role as the intensifier of already heavy-handed riffs with rolled snarls, bestial lows, and off-the-rails shriek sermons. From the lift-off of “Flies” to the narrative froth of “Dave Goes to Hollywood” to the artistic crackling of “Spite Suicide,” not a moment rings through where Strnad isn’t threatening the mic with a barely held-together glottal assault. I’ve noted on later-era albums that the acquired talents provided an extra panache to an already solid formula. Miasma, in its rawer and younger character, succeeds not through being smart and tidy but by executing TBDM’s vision of melodic death metal to the scraped limits of their abilities at the time.

#3. Nightbringers (2017). If Miasma sold the young and tattered vision that TBDM had of At the Gates riffs with campy and horror-tinged vignettes, Nightbringers sells the wiser version of it kissed by the fresh virtuosity of then-fledgling shredmeister Brandon Ellis. No riff wastes any time launching songs into chunked harmony, barked fury, and blistering solo-land. And despite the number of Björriff-forward tunes that TBDM has cranked over the years, each song here lands with its own weighty identity. Part of that is through Ellis’ neoclassically-cranked excursions that carry as much energy as any melodeath groove (“Kings of the Nightworld,” “As Good as Dead”). And, as with any TBDM outing, Strnad rips maniacally through macabre narratives with a brutal ease that possesses a memorability all its own (“Of God and Serpent, of Spectre and Snake,” “Catacomb Hecatomb” in particular). Truth be told, I’ve also spent more time with this album than any other in the TBDM catalog. When I acquired it, I was on the road more than any other time in my life, and this collection of melodeath bangers was my go-to on a sunless morning commute,⁶ where my weary eyes needed adrenaline to persevere. Nightbringers gives a dose that doesn’t quit until the last note.

#2. Nocturnal (2007). As much as I (and all the others here) have said the name At the Gates or Björriff⁷—a fate inescapable from simply the opening classic chord crush of “Everything Went Black”—it’s really the sneaking, tremolo groove Morbid Angel influence that rolls my eyes back on these hardest-hitting early TBDM numbers. This hefty American influence on the hooky and nimble Swedish sound allows monsters like “What a Horrible Night to Have a Curse” and “Of Darkness Spawned” to land with equal parts thrashy tumble and melodic sting. The addition of budding kit talent Shannon Lucas (ex-All That Remains) provides all the machine gun and tom-chattering rhythmic foundation for TBDM to excel in this realization of their early potential. Melodeath doesn’t get much more addictive than this…

#1. Ritual (2011). Well, at least melodeath doesn’t get more addictive than this until Ritual. But the craving that results from this crowning moment isn’t one of riff-indulgence, of fretboard mystery (okay, it is all of those things). Ritual has an atmosphere. The simple placement of dramatic cello lines at the onset signals a moodiness that continues through tones more bass-loaded and balanced than other efforts. I hate to praise engineer Jason Suecof for his work here as he ruined plenty of albums around this time.⁸ But everything here just works—the cut-ins to Knight’s wobbling and unpredictable axe action, the many layers of Strnad crisscrossing and connecting at group chants and shouts, the low-end weight which even propels the elevated basics d-beat ripping of “Den of the Picquerist.” Continuing to alternate between the Björriff, a churning groove, and a growing hyper-melodic attitude (“The Window”), TBDM finds more ways to hook with the same tools they’ve always had while adding subtle new elements. It’s eerie to listen to “Blood in the Ink” these days, though. Between the added tension of discordant violin lines, further swirling string accompaniment, and its all too real theme of ritual suicide, the foreboding closer is easily one of the best songs The Black Dahlia Murder ever penned. Ritual fades away in the closing echo of “Suicide is the only way out.” And it hurts. It hurt then because that kind of mental trap exists, and it hurts now because art and reality often reflect each other in the scariest and worst of ways. That intersection can breed great art though, and Ritual will live that truth so long as metalheads have ears.

Angry Metal Guy Staff Ranking

We’ve once again used our tallying magic to use a complex point system based on submitted rankings. Thank you to the staff who could offer opinions without words. You are treasured and valuable.⁹

1. Verminous (2020)
2. Unhallowed (2003)
3. Abysmal (2015)
4. Everblack (2013)
5. Deflorate (2009)
6. Miasma (2005)
7. Nightbringers (2017)
8. Ritual (2011)
9. Nocturnal (2007)

Angry Metal Discord Pile o’ Entitled Opinions

We did the same thing for our Discord users. They smell funny, but wouldn’t you know it, they like The Black Dahlia Murder too! Hopefully, you don’t agree more with this bunch though…

1. Verminous (2020)
2. Unhallowed (2003)
3. Miasma (2005)
4. Deflorate (2009)
5. Abysmal (2015)
6. Nightbringers (2017)
7. Ritual (2011)
8. Nocturnal (2007)
9. Everblack (2013)

And what would this all be without a staff-curated playlist to accompany the celebra¬tion? Get to know The Black Dahlia Murder before their upcoming release Servitude, out September 27th, 2024 on Metal Blade Records.

The post AMG Goes Ranking – The Black Dahlia Murder 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.

“Doors of Dark Matter, Pt 1: Barriers” kicks off with a hefty riff on buzzing downtuned guitars. The hook is deployed in various forms throughout the song without feeling overused, a trick Cities do quite well on all 5 tracks. Rather than just going for overpowering heaviness, Temporal Rifts regularly establishes a relaxing spacey groove that lets you lean back and nod along appreciatively, before attacking with stomping riffage and a dual vocal attack from the land between Neurosis and Mastodon. “Children of the Red Sea” is a good example of this interplay, setting off with dreamily wavering guitars before slamming down a knockout groove and a sweltering roar. Halfway through, the track rolls out a galloping avalanche that pummels like a rockslide, a high point on the 35-minute record.

The vocals do provide the only weaker piece of the puzzle, though. While they make good use of the two alternating vocalists, combining them at key moments, they don’t differ a whole lot, and both sing consistently with their registers fully open. This takes away some of the impact, as the variety in dynamics decreases. Thankfully, the mixture of crushing grooves, zoned-out space and warped, screeching solos undercuts such problems, and the production further mitigates the damage. The choice not to overblow the guitars and beef up the bass is a good one, avoiding the tiring wall of sound of which stoner-doom bands are so often guilty.

Cities of Mars is a diamond in the rough, glimpses of glimmering facets showing beneath the coarse exterior. There is an honesty to the rough polish of the writing, a love for the craft in the heft of the riffs. Temporal Rifts is not a world-changing record, it doesn’t break new ground or challenge the norms of stoner doom. What it is is a fun, solid and thoroughly headbangable morsel with plenty of cosmic groove, a testament to a young band finding their feet, with 5 tracks that are catchy and easily digestible without diminishing in heaviness. If you ever want to get in on the ground floor with a highly promising new stoner-doom outfit, now is the time.

Tracks to check out: “Envoy of Murder” and “Children of the Red Sea.”

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Knife the Glitter is an odd enough band name, but any of their song titles could have provided something even more interesting. I mean, who wouldn’t be excited for new releases from “Gargle Clamp,” “Highly Electric Squirrel,” or “Permanent Baby Snowpants?” What I’m trying to say is, these guys seem to have a knack for weird, off-kilter names. The good thing is that these names totally fit their music. Turns out Knife the Glitter (the band’s debut and final album) sheds all semblance to the collectives early metalcore leanings, instead aiming for a highly complex, jazzy, progressive sound. If you yearn for a comparison, think of a more crazed, metallic version of ConstruKction of Light-era instrumental King Crimson with some Dillinger Escape Plan added to the mix and you won’t be far off. Released at the end of 2017, Knife the Glitter is just now picking up some steam, and thus we bring you a review a few weeks past the release date.

It may have taken eight years to record Knife the Glitter, but in fits and starts: it only took the band one day to lay down the drum tracks (and the drumming is crazy), it took them a spread of three more years to record guitars, and yet more years to mix the whole thing. The wait was worth it, though. The album is chock full of angular riffs and staccato bursts of energy. Opening track “Idiot City” is a frantic, chaotic trip through progressive extremism, as are all of the songs. “Gargle Clamp” features dying-cat fretwork, more frenetic pacing and craziness, and all the trappings of free-form jazz dialed up to eleven, while “Bumble Bee Infant” gives one the impression of a hyperactive insect going mental inside the hive – but really, every song on this album gives that impression.

If the album suffers from anything, it is a sense of sameness that creeps in sometime around the fifth off-kilter song, where really the only variance is song length. Compositionally, they all follow the same template, which consists of jagged edges and unexpected hairpin turns into chaos. While each song on its own is a killer display of bizarre musicality (not only does Antreassian prove he’s a maniac, Ryan Newchok slays it on bass and Eli Litwin absolutely destroys his drum kit), listening to nine tracks that are essentially the same can blur time. The changeups are rare: “Highly Electric Squirrel” is a slower-paced number, while “Permanent Baby Snowpants” makes use of 80s synth patches and breakneck violin work. Fortunately, this kind of insanity is right in my wheelhouse, so I love cranking this unmitigated chaos.

Instrumental prog metal is not any easy genre to excel at, but Knife the Glitter does so. Sure, the similarity of all the tracks is a detriment to the record, but the songs are by no means monotonous. Rather than going on the occasional tangent, each song seems to be a complete digression from convention. Knife the Glitter would have been served well with variations in pacing and dynamics, but as it stands it’s a solid slab of prog that stands out from the crowd.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Husaria Records
Websites: knifetheglitter.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/knifetheglitter/
Releases Worldwide: December 22^nd, 2017

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Overhyped expectations brought to their knees by the crushing weight of reality, the frantic sense of entrapment that comes with being stuck somewhere I didn’t want to be, and the sense of shame that accompanies realizing that one has been both used and lied to. To be fair, the album didn’t run off and bang an entire traveling circus, animals and all, but art can only imitate life so much. What matters here is that you learn from my mistakes, lest you go and throw your time and standards away for the first cvlt thing that calls your name. O Olhar… isn’t the worst album in the world, but that’s about the best that I can say for it. I have to say a few more things if I wish to keep making loads of money, though, so I guess kiss and tell it is.

Where this is billed as straight up black metal and presents itself as such, without any guise of artsy atmospheric nonsense, the first red flag flared in the form of the song lengths. Traditional black metal is typically a brief, violent spasm, a sudden and messy affair not usually known for its longevity, yet here I’m seeing 7:10, 9:03, and fucking 10:29 right out the gate??? Indeed, the warning signs were there, but so was the most optimistic of the many voices which haunt my head hole. “How bad can it be?”, inquired that smug little fuck in his most encouraging of tones. “It’s not like it’ll just be ten minutes of nonstop wailing over lo-fi minor chords.” You’re right, asshole. They also have 7:10, 9:03, and three other-length tracks which do exactly that, as well. Maybe putting the biggest block of blackened bloat first and foremost was intended to make the following feel less drawn out, but for me it just set the mood, and sourly.

To make things that much harder, nothing that these anonymous Portuguese posers did aroused any kind of excitement from me. The hateful stank of Celtic Frost or early Burzum lingers heavily in the air, but only Varg could ever approve of the lifelessness exhibited by O Olhar. In trve fashion the recording quality similarly reeks of a brush with Varg, blurring the black stock music into something vaguely cacophonous and eerie yet never outright threatening. Monotone old-school black metal wails throughout with some slight variation into shriek territory on “Deserto da Desolação” and the title track: losing excitement. Plodding songs with minimal structural variation or exploration buried in a shit mix: pushing rope. A drawn-out and unnecessary interlude (“Pesadelos Quebrantes”) before a similarly drawn-out and unnecessary finale, which merely does everything that the album has already done before it finally fucking dies: blve balls.

O Olhar… is the black metal album that people who don’t listen to black metal are afraid of: it’s literally just incessant, unpleasant screaming over evil noise. If it wasn’t for “Pesadelos Quebrantes” and the title track, I don’t even know that I would recognize any of the individual songs apart from each other. Normally only over-the-line threats from the Angry Metal Editors can steer me towards brevity, but I can only say “makes the same shit noises for too long” in so many ways before even I feel like less would be more. It gives me no satisfaction whatsoever to listen to or describe this dead fish of an album, and no amount of alcohol could coax me back into its disappointing arms. The important part: I’m finished. You can leave now.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 5-6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Signal Rex Records
Websites: Not worth a website, apparently
Releases Worldwide: December 21st, 2017

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Dreaming of Sleep is an engaging progressive metal album, representing a lot of what’s good about the modern prog scene. A noodly, complex and ambitious affair, Dreaming of Sleep rarely loses itself in a fluffy space of self-indulgence, the songwriting remains grounded by memorable hooks and a touch of restraint. And just when you think it may be sounding too safe and polished, the band hit you with a chunky, grittier riff or fat groove to keep things honest. As expected the musicianship is outstanding, and the top notch production offers space and balance for each member to shine through complex rhythms, intricate and rippling guitar work, and prominent but tasteful use of keyboards. Mark Michell’s exceptional bass work adds an extra layer of nuance and character to the compositions, often stealing the limelight within deeply textured and intricate arrangements.

Vocals in modern prog can often be a deal breaker for many listeners, but the smooth and assured melodic tones from Gary Tubbs have an understated and emotive power that do the job nicely without straying into cheesy melodrama. He knows his way around a poppy vocal hook or soaring vocal line, a feature used to great effect throughout the album. “Echo Chamber” swiftly balances complexity and melody, with pop hooks, heavier riffage, and upbeat grooves. Highlight “10,001” drops a monster opening riff as staggering rhythms mesmerize underneath. Tetrafusion’s unique gift of blending pop hooks and spacey textures with harder hitting riffage makes for a compelling combination and their ability to write busy but digestible prog nuggets work advantageously. However, the 10 minute “Sisyphus” shows Tetrafusion’s ability to string together a winding and soulful prog epic with impressive results. Tetrafusion skillfully navigate moody waters, flipping through bright and energetic tones, to ethereal passages, and darker bouts of melancholy.

The beautiful psych-prog of “Vestige” leads into closer “Perfect Silence,” a jazz-infected prog epic featuring some startling moments and stunning musicianship, even though it goes a little overboard with the noodling jam session. Otherwise, Tetrafusion sustain interest and focus comfortably, hitting the mark far more often than not. The excellent production job consolidates the album’s strengths, sounding robust, balanced and crystal clear, yet blessed with the right amount of sonic roughage.

Tetrafusion punch well above their modest profile, delivering a finely crafted progressive metal album with jazz, alt-rock and post-metal undertones that holds its own among the other prog highlights of 2017. Self-released and available as a ludicrous Name Your Price option on Tetrafusion’s Bandcamp page, there’s no excuse for prog fans not to check this out.

Tracks to Check out: ”10,001,” “Sisyphus,” “The Void”

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If you saw the black metal tag and came here expecting the next second wave imitator you’ll be disappointed. It’s a long way from that purists’ approach and is therefore closer to the debut than 2016’s EP. It’s strongly atmospheric, wielding a sound replete with post rock influences; much of the album is quite soft and has the shimmering and cascading guitar and keyboard effects synonymous with that genre. Indeed, The Liquid Sky features the least heavy material of any of Deadspace’s releases. This definitely isn’t bad though and the greater exploration of their softer and atmospheric characteristics uncovers a fresh, gothic tone. That morose feeling of the music draping over the listener, evoked by the likes of earlier Anathema and Paradise Lost, is clearly apparent. Beginning with “Kidney Bleach,” the back half of the record particularly conjures this sensation. This track is scarcely heavier than dark indie rock but it’s emotionally powerful and surprisingly catchy.

The Liquid Sky is an album of contrasts. Those softer passages feature plenty of faux strings, piano, male and female cleans and whispy shit which are all fused emotively. The heavier parts can be very heavy; fully tremolo-picked guitars and blasting drums are utilized though sparingly. The ferocious conclusion to the eponymous final track makes for a great conclusion and ties pleasingly with plaintive clean singing. Even in the heaviness, melodic elements are suffused. Nonetheless, these contrasts don’t just extend to the music – they also touch the record’s tone. Calmer moments tread a fine line between chilled and chilling, as on “Only Tears,” while the energetic ones split the epic and the hopeless, such as the aforementioned “The Liquid Sky.” To emphasize this point, The Liquid Sky is strong across the emotional spectrum. There are moments which evoke angst more than true depression but it’s still impressive.

You aren’t going to slit your wrists in crippling depression – nor will you be terrified by a stark display of evil blackness. But The Liquid Sky is an affecting, atmospheric and melodic record which tracks a satisfying course and feels complete in itself. Each release¹ sees a slight variation on their core sound established in 2014 and there’s definitely growing room for their atmospheric and certainly their gothic qualities. Deadspace are disappointingly overlooked and I hope this is soon rectified.

Tracks to check out: “Kidney Bleach,” “Reflux,” “The Liquid Sky”

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As Christmas approaches, so too does the easy gushing of TYMHM season. We are in the thick of it now, the best time of the year, the constant f5ing and frantic back-listening, the questions of how you completely and totally slept on that band you’d never heard of until just now. Every day heralds a batch of guaranteed winners determined to kick the certitude of yesterday’s Top Ten down a mine shaft. Halphas kindly reminds you not to ignore the humble review, because Dawn of a Crimson Empire is no less impressive than any of the December delights that have caught your eye.

In assessing Dawn, the constellation of black metal albums I’ve handled over the last year and a half rattled through my mind. More than a few were first-spin stars. Most faded into the all-black background of a scene expanding faster than the universe or tumbled down the rating ladder for slights that grew more prominent on subsequent listens. Halphas passes both tests. “Call from the Depths” slithers out from below with the ambient pacing of Leviathan and a surprisingly lush bass presence. Halphas grips their prey with a ferocious barrage of second wave riffing and Legatus’ caustic vocals before snapping back underground, dragging it deeper into its nightmarish catacombs. Follow-up “Through the Forest” haunts wooded trails with a pulsing quality that leans on a riff with whiffs of Taake tonality. Though the track, like most on the album, tends toward the long side, it never falters and rides its direction to a natural conclusion. The catchiness of the riffs are understated, but still factor in overall. Dawn would not be half as replayable were it not for the subtle earworms that wriggle out track after track.

If pressed for constructive criticism, an individual identity comes into question. The limitations of the genre pen Halphas into an area with a lot of other bands and the Germans don’t exactly run screaming for the exits. Relatively adventurous aspects of Dawn border on pageantry, hinting at the echoing chambers of Macabre Omen even as the main thrust of the music never overtly employs that pastiche. Closer “Empire” plays this most successfully. The mid-paced affair is lightly scented with melodies a breath away from an epic identity, particularly after it transitions into a back-half laden with acoustic layers, shrill tremolos, and keen drumwork from Tempestas (Nocturnal, Cross Vault). The result ends the album on a high note, and begs the question of why Dawn doesn’t apply that beautiful shade more often. “FMD” utilizes it for a finish pregnant with possibility, but only for a brief moment. Halphas could easily spice some of their flat-surfaced tracks with that texture for a more varied offering.

What Dawn lacks in experimentation, it makes up for in balance. The record is conspicuously consistent. Aside from an obligatory throwaway intro, the offering lacks clunkers and pairs harrowing atmospheres and threatening mid-tempo selections wonderfully. Guitarists Thurstan and Aynas¹ craft songs that keep both the bloodthirsty and the gloom-wallowers happy. “Sword of the Necromancer” executes this ethos to perfection, stalking through the mist with its crimson-soaked blade. The track throttles up and down alternatively over its seven and a half minutes, filling the room with smoke and fear. The murderous intent in Legatus’ screams contrasts the careful melodic undertones of a black metal act that is careful not to overuse the trope.

The majority of Halphas’ members report several other bands on their resume, though few overlap with black metal. That lack of genre experience only impresses me more, given the strength and consistency in their opening salvo. Halphas have tossed their names on the list of artists that has rebelled against the trend of weak December releases and growing TYMHM-worship. While Dawn of a Crimson Empire might seemingly have arrived too late to make a dent on list season, ask yourself: if a TYMHM that you never heard before today might make the cut, why not Halphas?

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Folter Records
Websites: halphas.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/halphasofficial
Releases Worldwide: December 15th, 2017

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My point: I’m no stranger to emptiness, I have used music as an outlet for my own struggles with depression for almost thirty years and my music library is positively littered with negativity. The sounds of being depressed have haunted my ears in varying shades of grey for as long as I can remember, but never before have I heard an album embody depression itself with the same level of unnerving perfection as Slow’s V – Oceans does. A 55-minute slab of Belgian sadness, Oceans harnesses the darkest powers of our subconscious depths and renders them exquisitely, crushingly real. If that icy giant from the first paragraph ever recorded an album, this would be it.

Pianos punctuate the surrounding dark, adding the vaguest shimmer of light yet illuminating only misery with their doleful keys. The guitars craft dense atmospheres somewhere between Clouds and Départe on despairoids, effectively robbing the listener of breath as they churn their way through the stifling seas of sadness. Percussion is delivered effectively with a sense of patience that defies mortal attention spans, but it’s Déhà’s tremendous vocals that steal the show and lend it its credibility. These are not the sniffles of the voice in your head telling you that Ben and Jerry will save you. This is the ancient guttural roar of depression itself, the timeless evil of mental turmoil sonically brought to life.

It should come as no surprise that Oceans takes the turtle approach, and by taking things… unfastly, Slow more than win all throughout the album. The payout of Déhà’s monstrous bellows when the piano-induced suspense of “Néant” finally explodes floors me every time, an emotional reaction made possible by refusing to rush. Similar rise-and-fall dynamics feature heavily throughout the album, and they all work to devastating effect. Subsequently, Oceans works best when experienced front to back, alone and in the dark. This may be easier for some than others, given Oceans’ 55-minute playtime, but c’mon. You knew what you were getting into here.

Music is my favorite way to confront depression, and Oceans has crawled to the highest point on my low list. This is not musical commiseration, but a monolog by the monster itself. There is no happiness here, but sometimes that’s the point. If you’re up for being so down, I promise the rewards are worth it.

Tracks to check out: ”Oceans (Full)”

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This year I was introduced to San Francisco’s Ancient Empire via its 2016 release, Otherworld, and barely had time to arrive at a full appreciation for that album before I caught wind of the band’s impending drop of The Tower. I scrambled to acquire a copy of this album in time for year-end coverage, and am pleased to say that it met the considerable expectations set by Otherworld. Ancient Empire offers a stripped-down, fast-paced, riff-propelled variety of alternate history- and science-fiction concerned power metal carried by the accomplished gravelly singing of Joe Liszt (Shadowkiller, Hellhound), who in fact also accomplishes all of the instrumental recording other than percussion. The project’s style can be compared favorably with Twisted Tower Dire, mid/late Iron Maiden, Scanner, Rocka Rollas, and most of the band member’s other projects.

Much like its predecessor, The Tower succeeds through musical talent and force of will in a myriad of ways. Lyrically, this album is a quasi-conceptual, back-and-forth romp through human history that affords lyricist Rich Pelletier (also of Hellhound) an opportunity to place on display some of the more engrossing lyricism that I’ve ever heard in the genre. Despite offering big chorus hooks and some subtly excellent vocal layering, the band maintains its strong trad/speed metal identity by supplying driving drum and rhythm work while relying heavily on harmonized guitar leads and an abundance of consummate riffing. Dynamic and tempo variation is executed with a level of restraint and skill rarely seen in this style of metal on songs like “In the Land of the Damned” and the walloping “The Battle of Stirling Bridge.”

In no time flat, Ancient Empire has crested the wave of American heavy and power metal acts to crash with thunderous effect upon my senses. It’s not so much that this studio project does metal truly different (though see my comments on lyrics) than its contemporaries as it does them consistently better. I’ll be honest: I still prefer Otherworld by a margin, as I find it more generally memorable (also has more spaceships and lasers), but The Tower is no poorer an introduction point to the group’s work. Don’t let this one get lost in the ether!

Tracks to check out: “The Tower,” “View from Up Here,” “The Battle of Stirling Bridge,” and “Darker Side of Midnight”

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