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.

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Wilderun’s Sleep at the Edge of the Earth was a revelation. The record was a powerful blend of ideas that was as enchanting as it was addictive. It was epic and sprawling and my (and the staff’s) Record o’ the Year from 2015, and it came with an elevator pitch as snappy as: “Opeth meets Turisas.” And while this is a simplification that does not do the brilliance of Sleep at the Edge of the Earth justice, it is a good reference point. After making the album Record o’ the Year for 2019, I am here to remind you—assuming you’ve been living under a rock—that Century Media picked up Wilderun and finally some justice was served. Rather than putting something out right away, they gave Veil of Imagination a proper release that includes a cover of the title track from Seventh Son of a Seventh Son. And furthermore, as it turns out, Veil of Imagination is still one of the most imaginative, beautiful and complete records that I have ever heard.

While other bands have referred to their songs as “movements,” the term is the only appropriate name for what Wilderun has wrought. From the fourteen and a half minutes of “The Unimaginable Zero Summer” to the disharmonic outro on “When the Fire and the Rose Were One,” everything flows with the kind of practiced grace that few bands not named Pink Floyd or Symphony X have ever accomplished. The pacing, when seen from a bird’s eye view, is genius. Whether Wilderun recapitulates a riff which transitions perfectly between songs (“O Resolution!” to “Sleeping Ambassadors of the Sun”), or subtly changes key and feel over the course of three minutes before merging into the next movement (“Scentless Core (Fading)” to “The Tyranny of Imagination”), the transitions are brilliant and effortless. Veil of Imagination even has a three act feel. The first three tracks spend most of their time in 6/8; that unmistakably Opethian swing (clearest on “The Unimaginable Zero Summer”). The next three tracks comprise Act II with a majestic and powerful Turisasian flare (“Far from Where Dreams Unfurl”). And finally, Act III is comprised of “The Tyranny of Imagination” and “When the Fire and the Rose Were One,” which emphasize dissonance and consonance. These sounds, of course, blend throughout the album, but each act has its own emphasis.

Talk of “movements” and “acts” emphasizes that Veil of Imagination is a clear development of the band’s sound toward the truly symphonic. While the transitions are one part of this, orchestral arrangers Dan Müller and Wayne Ingram craft fantastic beds of strings and choirs that make Wilderun distinct. Rather than being a metal band playing with an orchestra, the band is part of the orchestra. This is helped by the combinations of piano and violin (“The Unimaginable Zero Summer” or “Scentless Core (Budding)”) which merge into something always more intense and grand (“Sleeping Ambassadors of the Sun”), with plenty of Finnish New-English Man Choir to add an extra layer of drama.¹ The band uses a variety of sounds one rarely hears in metal—harps (“O Resolution!”) or fluttering piano and flutes (“When the Fire and the Rose Were One”)—and these give a true sense of orchestral mastery.

The album’s symphonic nature, of course, still contains a metal spine. Wilderun demonstrates this with Evan’s ferocious death metal growl and classic, if idiosyncratic, metal riffing. Aside from the album breaking out the door with blasts and death metal groove, “Far from Where Dreams Unfurl” features note-y melodic death riffs with counter-intuitive harmonies, while “Tyranny of Imagination” starts out with a sinister symphonic death feel. Joe Gettler’s guitar solos (like on “O Resolution!” and “Far from Where Dreams Unfurl”) are a reminder that these guys just have chops. The same is true of Jon Teachey’s drums pushing into blasts at times or tom heavy fills, while the bass features prominently throughout, with Müller delivering a heavy, driving performance that reminds me at times of Martín Méndez (“O Resolution!” and “Sleeping Ambassadors of the Sun”). Yet, never does the symphonic conflict with the metallic, either thematically or sonically; they work in perfect balance.

Veil of Imagination has a unique voice which speaks to its concept. And this is where I worry it will lose some listeners. But the genius of this album is the way it balances contrast, both in feel and dissonance. This can give the feeling to listeners that the melodies aren’t quite as ‘strong’ as on Sleep at the Edge of the Earth. Close listens, however, reveal evocative ideas that sonically represent the album’s concept. For example, they modulate major keys in “Scentless Core (Budding),” never really staying in one place for long—which builds a sense of tension and unease with blaring horns until the fever breaks and reduces down to a single piano. The bridge (at about 4 minutes) in “Far from Where Dreams Unfurl” follows a similar pattern, building tension for almost 90 seconds before releasing. But the peak of this is in “The Tyranny of Imagination,” where Wilderun works with half-steps and naturals to keep the tension mounting. At times this approach reminds me of Septicflesh at their best, but unlike Septicflesh, Wilderun balances these moments with ample resolution. In these moments, Evan’s baritone cleans often work with only a piano or acoustic guitar to cleanse the pallet and set the stage for the next burst of color and flavor.

Wilderun masterfully executes its vision through developments in both composition and style on Veil of Imagination. The album speaks to fundamental human struggles and mirrors the tension and release of negative ideation of the future. This can be seen from the cover art, as well. The beating, surreal heart of Veil of Imagination is a twisted tree draped with blooming flowers—where the fire and the rose met, and where “all manner of thing shall be well.”² And time and time again, Wilderun deliver with their aesthetic choices. From a Dan Swanö mix that sounds timeless, to a Jens Bogren master which, while loud, delivers the kind of balance that made his work on Fleshgod Apocalypse and Turisas indispensable. And suddenly, it seems, that Wilderun isn’t just an excellent, if underappreciated band. With Veil of Imagination, Wilderun has arrived at the vanguard of the next generation of progressive and melodic death metal bands. Veil of Imagination raises the bar by delivering an intense, grandiose and sophisticated, yet ultimately human, experience.

Songs to check: This isn’t really an album to think about “songs to check,” but if you’re going to check songs I think that “O Resolution!” is up there. Still, even better, the Century Media re-release basically allowed them to release the super cool “Seventh Son of a Seventh Son” cover which is only available on the physical CD. This is cool on several levels, and, I mean, obviously my favorite modern metal band also agrees that Seventh Son of a Seventh Son is the best album ever written.

The post Wilderun – Veil of Imagination [Things You Might Have Missed 2020] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Age of Aquarius succeeds primarily on the strength of VIC’s songwriting, but there are plenty of stylistic contributing factors. The folk aspects use a style of folk music that will be unfamiliar to most listeners. That element of unfamiliarity keeps the basic sound interesting. The bagpipes, always a divisive instrument, are used in the right places and get some of the catchiest melodies, but never overused. And likewise, vocalist Alex works really well for the band. He’s not showy or highly technical, but he’s charismatic and brings a lot of character. But none of this would matter if the writing wasn’t up to scratch.

Psychedelic and stoner music’s most common failings are succumbing to directionless jamming or boring, rather than hypnotic, repetition. Prog’s is becoming overly wanky. VIC do neither. This is clearly psychedelia and so there are a lot of extended repetitions of particular riffs, but they’re consistently great, develop in interesting ways rather than just looping, and interplay with the other instruments. The tracks wander but never feel lost, despite mostly running over eight minutes, and build to satisfying conclusions. Nothing feels unnecessary. The album as a whole also has a great progression and flow to it. There are consistent themes and styles across its runtime, but it never overdoes any particular element. The hooks and melody lines are interesting and catchy in equal measure.

It could, perhaps, have been a tiny bit shorter—over an hour is a long time, even when it’s this good. The industry-standard DR6 production, while not in any way bad, makes the folk instruments feel a little confined at times. But that’s the closest I can get to levelling complaints at Age of Aquarius. Alas, the strict rules of list season prevent it from featuring on my list, but it would have been in the running for my AotY, in either year.

Tracks to Check Out: “Age of Aquarius,” “Dance of Night,” and “Cosmic Soul.”

The post Villagers of Ioannina City – Age of Aquarius [Things You Might Have Missed 2019] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Bet you didn’t expect a TYMHM 2019 post just as TYMHM season 2020 begins to pick up, did ya? I also bet you didn’t expect to see AMG’s third- or fourth-best black metal specialist¹ piggybacking aboard a relatively popular deathcore album either. Well, it’s 2020, a year jampacked with surprises. So surprise, motherfucker – the Metal Gods work in mysterious ways. I tried to ignore my missed opportunity from *checks watch* a year and seven months ago, but I recently read an interview with Whitechapel’s frontman Phil Bozeman in regard to 2019’s The Valley after hearing the acoustic version of “Hickory Creek.” In response to why the band decided to include clean vocals into its signature deathcore sound, he simply said, “My mom was a good singer.” The Valley is different.

A band that perhaps needs no introduction, Knoxville, Tennessee wrecking crew Whitechapel was at the forefront of the mid-2000s deathcore explosion with debut albums The Somatic Defilement and This is Exile. These forays into the chugz established the band as the cream of the crop for angsty teens everywhere (i.e. me) with breakdowns, Cookie Monster growls, and lyrics detailing the dismemberment of prostitutes everywhere. Then, four albums of relative monotony and obscurity passed, always hinting greatness but never quite reaching it.

The Valley, a title explained by bonus track “Sea of Trees,” continues the trend began by “Bring Me Home” from Mark of the Blade, painting a picture of Bozeman’s troubled childhood. The sextet’s seventh full-length unleashes a barrage of chunky riffs, devastating roars, and shredding solos in the pitch-black depictions of mental illness, addiction, fury, and tragedy, through the surprisingly effective aesthetic of 80’s horror films. While the overall template deviates little from the blistering brutality Whitechapel is known for, the inclusion of cleans, a newfound dimension of ominous dynamics, and the overall vulnerability of its content, makes The Valley come alive. “When the Demon Defiles the Witch” and “Third Depth” are case in point, never forsaking lethal crunch and uneasy atmosphere paired with Bozeman’s incredible vocals, singing and growling, as contemplative plucking and punishing riffs ebb and flow. Tracks “Black Bear” and “Forgiveness is Weakness” are heavy-hitters that never overstay their welcome, while the complexity of “Doom Woods” and “Lovelace” add a tantalizingly ambiguous eerie end to a deeply personal album.

The bleak dynamics of The Valley and its balanced attack of vulnerability, rage, and disquiet are what separate Whitechapel’s seventh offering from the deathcore bros, and especially those attempting clean vocals (looking at you, Suicide Silence by Suicide Silence). “Hickory Creek” is the standard to reach, a completely cleanly sung lament of Bozeman’s mother’s death by overdose – the most vulnerable moment in the band’s catalog that never feels incongruous and instead the opposite. Ultimately, Whitechapel may not challenge any deathcore tropes, but like Fit for an Autopsy, their powerful use of clean vocals and dynamic songwriting stays with me, delivering a necessary yearning humanity to a painfully derivative style overrun with sadistic exhibitionism.

Tracks to cry with the homies in the pit to:² “When the Demon Defiles the Witch,” “Hickory Creek,” “Black Bear,” “Third Depth”

The post Whitechapel – The Valley [Things You Might Have Missed 2019] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

So in the tradition of the past Angry Metal-Fi end of year articles, some of the AMG team came together with a list of what we consider the best and worst sounding albums of 2019. Encouragingly, there were far more best-sounding albums on the shortlist than worst-sounding. Is this perhaps indicative of a subtle shift from extreme brickwalling in the broader metal market? We can only hope…

Firstly, a handful of acknowledgments:

• Soen finally ironed out the sonic deficiencies which have plagued their career. Fourth LP Lotus came equipped with a robust, reasonably dynamic, and far superior production job. This finally allowed the breathing space for their emotive, melancholic prog metal tunes to truly thrive.

• Whatever your opinion is on Wilderun’s bombastic, highly ambitious and largely successful third album, Veil of Imagination, it’s difficult to fault the sound. Yeah, it’s a touch loud, but much credit is warranted to the band for handling production duties themselves, with assistance from the skilled hands of Dan Swanö and Jens Bogren for the mix and master respectively. With such busy, multilayered compositions, a subpar production could have seriously hampered the album and made a mess of its classy orchestrations and more traditional metal instrumentation.

• Blood Incantation deserve praise as well for the throwback analog production on Hidden History of the Human Race, providing a natural vibe and earthy warmth, forming a refreshing sonic counterpoint in the digital age. Blood Incantation create cutting-edge death metal, splicing forward-thinking invention with old school values. This includes respect for dynamic and organic sounding death with oodles of heart and soul.

• Dawn of Demise have a long history of churning out solid slabs of groovy brutal death. The biggest surprise about their latest album, Into the Depths of Veracity, was the change in tact with their production. While still containing their trademark polished, hefty tones, Dawn of Demise opted for a rich, dynamic master measuring a vastly improved DR9. Everything pops and pummels with newfound sonic depth, without sacrificing the usual blunt force trauma of their trademark formula. Keep in mind this was released on Unique Leader Records.

• Mentioning The Drowning’s The Radiant Dark in negative terms is perhaps a little harsh. This well-executed slab of gloomy death-doom garnered much praise around the AMG Offices. However, the album’s odd duck production values left something to be desired. Vocals and drums are mixed too loud, pushing the guitars inexplicably into the background. Overall, the sound profile is a tad sterile, and the drum sound is particularly uninspiring, especially the lifeless cymbals.

Tech Rec:

Quality metal and a fine set of cans go together like peanut butter and chocolate. I’ve been steadily building upon my headphone collection in recent years, but up until recently, I had avoided the wireless option. That changed in 2019, as wireless technology continued to evolve and eliminate the stigma regarding the sacrifice of top-notch sound from the wireless alternative. After much investigation, I invested in a pair of Sony’s outstanding WH-1000XM3 over-ear Bluetooth headphones.

Although not exactly cheap, they are worth every cent for listeners wanting to cut the wires while retaining excellent sound quality. While perhaps not the most portable model around, the sound profile is terrific, pairing well with a variety of genres, within and outside of the metal spectrum, revealing impeccable detail and a tight, punchy sound. Equipped with excellent noise-canceling features and solid battery life, the WH-1000XM3 comes highly recommended for those in the market for a durable, classy pair of wireless headphones.¹

Cheers to my trusty AMG comrades that contributed to this piece. As usual, feel free to debate our choices and throw down your own best and worst sounding picks in the comments.

Sounds Great:

Adrift // Pure – Honestly, you can wax eloquently about how great all of this year’s top prog albums sound, and you would be right. That’s really part of the equation for prog, though, isn’t it? Wilderun, Soen, and Sermon wouldn’t rank so high if they sounded like garbage. But let’s turn off the main road for a moment and look at some blackened, posty sludge metal. The best-sounding album in my collection this year is Pure from Adrift, produced by Santi Garcia. It’s almost perfect (the cymbals could be turned down just slightly). The sound stage is immaculate—close your eyes and blast it through speakers or headphones, and you are in the room with the band. Vocals cut through exactly right, guitars are amazingly rich in tone, and the bass really does make glasses rattle in the house. As good as all that is, the drums are immaculate, one of the best-sounding kits in years. If you want to hear a great-sounding album, this is it. – Huck N’ Roll

Devourment // Obscene Majesty – If you have the brain damage prerequisite for an appreciation of slam, Obscene Majesty sounds pretty much perfect. Obligatory requests for Brad Fincher to tune up and turn off his snare aside, I have no complaints. What I have is an explanation. You see, the brutal are gluttons for punishment, and few albums are more punishing than this one. What’s more, despite overwhelming low-end saturation, producer D. Braxton Henry captures the presence of each individual instrument here—the clang of the bass is very distinct from the guitar, even when Chris Andrews reaches down to the 8th string. Yes, it’s a uniquely crushing and distorted recording—Obscene Majesty sounds radically different through every pair of speakers or headphones I’ve piped it through—but it’s as meticulously hideous and adversarial as every other aspect of Devourment, and when you’re in the business of brutality, that’s a winning move. – Kronos

Vandor // In the Land of Vandor – Rare is it to find a power metal album in the modern era that sounds as good as this one. Vandor accomplishes the one thing that power metal bands ought to knock out of the park every time but scarcely do: feel powerful. When the double bass gallops drop, your entire body crumples beneath muscular hoof and tears asunder before razor-sharp claw. The low end is rich and vibrant; vocals are mixed perfectly just above middle ground; guitars give off a fantastic tone; every moment receives ample breathing room. I could go on for days. It might not be a great record—In the Land of Vandor features plenty of songwriting flaws and vocal missteps—but damn it all to hell if it isn’t the best sounding record I spun in 2019. – TheKenWord

Fvneral Fvkk // Carnal Confessions – My top album pick of 2019, Carnal Confessions blew me away with its disturbing themes, harrowing melodies, and gloomy take on epic doom. Featuring a combination of old school doom values and modern tropes, for all its mournful content, Carnal Confessions contained some of the most impactful, addictive and utterly compelling metal I heard across all genres in 2019. Beyond the obvious quality of the music, Carnal Confessions boasts an outstanding production job, adding the sonic depth and weight to compliment the excellent writing. The guitars and low end hit with seismic force and clarity, every note easily discernible, with an authoritative drum sound to match the mighty weight of the guitars and bass. Meanwhile, Cantor’s emotive, heartfelt cleans soar through the well-balanced mix in epic fashion. – L. Saunders

Sermon // Birth of the Marvellous – UK’s mysterious Sermon rose from obscurity to deliver an exceptional progressive metal debut opus with the stunning Birth of the Marvellous. Produced by the established Scott Atkins, Birth of the Marvellous is a sublime sounding album, even before considering the immense quality of the music. Everything smacks of professionalism and fine attention to detail. An album of such masterful songwriting dynamics is deserving of such sonic finery. The sound is familiar but distinctive, each instrument harmoniously sharing space in a vibrant mix and pleasingly dynamic master. Modern sounding but timeless, Birth of the Marvellous is a superb example of modern production techniques without ever sounding clinical or spit-polished. – L. Saunders

Tool // Fear Inoculum – Yeah, I know it’s fucking Tool, probably equipped with a Hollywood-style recording budget. But regardless of what you think about Tool’s long-awaited comeback album, there’s no doubting Fear Inoculum sounds amazing. Each instrument is clearly defined with lively, crystal-clear detail within a near-flawless mix, bolstered by a dynamic master and punchy organic sound, adding sonic heft to the winding, progressive arrangements and intermittent bursts of genuine heaviness. Danny Carey’s drums sound particularly huge, armed with natural, pristine tones to compliment his powerhouse performance. – L. Saunders

Inculter // Fatal Visions – Not only did Inculter produce one of the very best thrash albums of the year, they also delivered one of the best sounding records overall. Beautifully mastered and mixed, Fatal Visions is full of blazing riffs and leads and has enough dynamic range to allow each element of the music to shine. A refreshing oasis in the wastelands produced by the Loudness Wars, no other album had me cranking my listening devices higher this year. Keep your eyes on these young Norwegian thrashers—it’s amazing how well they nailed their chosen style, and the way it sounds is just as impressive. – Holdeneye

Coffin Rot // A Monument to the Dead – There was a glut of fantastic Portland death metal releases in 2019 and Coffin Rot’s A Monument to the Dead is probably the best sounding of the lot. The guitar tone is to die for, the vocals reverberate in disgusting glory, and everything is mixed together in the perfect ratio. The analog production is clear and quiet and sounds just as great as some of the early 90s death metal classics that inspired Coffin Rot’s sound to begin with. A Monument to the Dead barely missed out on being included in my top 20 albums of the year, but it easily made my shortlist of the best sounding. – Holdeneye

Sounds Fucking Bad:

Baroness // Gold & Grey – Believe it or not, there was actually a fight in the AMG cafeteria over who would get to write about this dumpster fire of an album. I won, and oh my god where do you start with this aural travesty? Well first, I think The Flaming Lips’ Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots is a brilliant album. In fact, I own a DVD-Audio copy of it, and it is glorious. Apparently Baroness thinks that if they have Dave Fridmann producing their work, they too will generate masterpieces.² Sadly, the pieces do not come together here like they did back in 2002. Instead, we are left with an album brickwalled harder than most grind records, with so many layers of poorly-chosen effects as to make Hysteria seem under-produced. The drums are so compressed, every hit of what passes for a snare makes your eardrums bleed. No album all year sounded so bad on so many different audio systems with so many different EQ settings as this one. Um, congratulations? – Huck N’ Roll

Venom Prison // Samsara – Samsara just sounds like shit—extremely compressed and distorted, instruments bleeding into each other, constant clipping, the works. I should have skewered it for this—it sounds way worse than The Flesh Prevails, though this sort of distortion is less jarring on a record that denies the existence of the clean channel. But even nasty records deserve good production, and I can’t figure out why Samsara didn’t get it. Venom Prison’s first LP, Animus, sounded much better, with Tom Diring handling the engineering and mixing before handing it off to the ever-reliable Alan Douches. This time around, Diring is listed as a producer, with the mix and master going to Arthur Rizik. OK, so this Rizik guy must not know what he’s doing, right? Wrong—Rizik might err on the loud side, but he’s no slouch. If you don’t believe me, listen to Planetary Clairvoyance, Nightmare Logic, Mute Books, Realms of Eternal Decay—the list goes on. So why does this album sound like he bounced the mix at 96 kbps and then just rolled with it for the master? I wish I had the answer. – Kronos

Python // Astrological Warfare – This record is bad enough to put the fear of God in the Devil himself. But, somehow, the production is worse. Guitars don’t sound remotely the same in tone or in strength from one track to another. The low end is either demolished by noise and feedback or it’s just plain weak. Vocals are simultaneously obnoxious and miles away, an effect I never thought possible until Python came along. Furthermore, the overall sound quality of the album fluctuates wildly enough to convince me that this was recorded in separate sessions spanning several decades and using vastly different equipment each time. What an absolute fucking mess. – TheKenWord

Moon Tooth // Crux – I copped some flak in the comments when I fell hard for this proggy, hard-rocking gem early in 2019. It didn’t quite have the legs to find its way into main-list contention but I stand by the album’s high quality and addictive modern rock. Although I was fortunate to have an improved yet still bricked vinyl master, the original digital copy was sadly crushed down to a miserly DR4. As I commented at the time, “the everything-cranked-to-11 loudness detracts from the album’s subtleties and dynamics.” Furthermore, the vocals are mixed too high, and the overall sound is a touch too squeaky clean and polished. – L. Saunders

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What is the goal of Legacy of the Dark Lands? To my ears, it sounds the point of the album was to write a metal opera in the style of Blind Guardian. But what if the goal of Legacy of the Dark Lands, a thing that made sense at the time of its conception was accomplished between 2002’s A Night at the Opera and 2015’s Beyond the Red Mirror? What if, in the years since A Night at the Opera, Blind Guardian had developed their sound to be so unique and so orchestral that by the time Legacy of the Dark Lands was released, it was unnecessary and maybe even uninteresting? If that were the case, then Legacy of the Dark Lands wouldn’t feel revolutionary or visionary; it would just feel like Blind Guardian without drums.

Legacy of the Dark Lands is a monumental accomplishment of orchestration and production. Contrabass, timpani and brass combine in ways that are crushingly heavy at times (“Harvester of Souls,” “Treason”). The choral arrangements add breadth and depth to the sound and, though the album starts slow, Legacy of the Dark Land’s finale (starting with “Harvester of Souls”) is impressive. Dropping more traditional metal instrumentation does appear to have freed André and Hansi to write songs like “The Great Ordeal,” which feels more like an Austrian classical piece than orchestral metal. These experimental moments may come back to influence future Blind Guardian albums in important ways, I suspect. They also have the effect of demonstrating the importance of more aggressive percussion, however, as at times the crescendos feel weak (“The Great Ordeal,” “Dark Cloud’s¹ Rising”).

The unfortunate irony of Legacy of the Dark Lands is that what the band desired to accomplish is undermined by what the band already accomplished in its career. Blind Guardian’s sound has developed to be so epic, orchestral and idiosyncratic, that when they released their supposed “magnum opus” it turned out to be closer to a parvus opus; possibly just an opus, sans adjective. Legacy of the Dark Lands does not carry the same heft or perform with the same poise as the band’s other material. By eschewing heavy percussion in the style of metal bands, Legacy of the Dark Lands lacks the strength that 2015’s Beyond the Red Mirror had. Add a confused story, mediocre voice acting and strange throwbacks to Nightfall in Middle-Earth in the dialogue, and Legacy of the Dark Lands becomes cheesy and strangely backward looking.

Finally, Legacy of the Dark Lands isn’t the departure from the band’s sound that it would have been when first dreamed up in 1996. Instead, the desire to make orchestral music has fused with Blind Guardian’s thrash metal roots and resulted in something far more compelling. When I want the epic story and orchestral feel that Legacy of the Dark Lands is going for, I listen to Beyond the Red Mirror because it’s compelling, sophisticated, coherent and unique. Legacy of the Dark Lands is a thing Blind Guardian should be lauded for trying, but it will not be remembered as their magnum opus.

Rating: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
DR: 9 (though, see the log) | Media Reviewed: v0 mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Release Date: November 8, 2019
Websites: blind-guardian.com | facebook.com/blindguardian

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Epicardiectomy // Grotesque Monument of Paraperverse Transfixion – When I first encountered Epicardiectomy, it was in the form of one of metal’s earliest in-jokes. The legendary video of their Mountains of Death set saw metalheads doing the Macarena in the pit and kicked off the now-ubiquitous association of hammers and slam. In 2019, Epicardiectomy released the first record I was actively anticipating in the new year, and Grotesque Monument of Paraperverse Transfixion did not disappoint. Not since the Cephalotripsy full-length or Abominable Putridity’s debut have I heard such joyously ignorant slam. The riffs do nothing but slam at varying speeds, the only word you can make out clearly amidst the gurgles is “diarrhea” in “Copraphagelicious Hypoxiphilia,” bass drops are used as a separate instrument (Don Mosconni is credited with “drums and bassdrops” in the liner notes), the glorious ping snare is in full effect, and the intro track is an utterly senseless two and a half minutes long – and that’s awesome. Mosconni has no toms whatsoever in his kit, but he makes it work by getting creative with cymbals, particularly his trusty ice bell. If you want to get your meathead on and involuntarily do that weird gorilla stomp everyone does when they hear big, beefy, beautiful slams for a little over a half hour, Epicardiectomy’s got what you need. – Diabolus in Muzaka

Fit for an Autopsy // The Sea of Tragic Beasts – Amassing a solid catalog that has ranged from standard deathcore to truly challenging heavy music, these New Jersey juggernauts take the approachability of Absolute Hope Absolute Hell with the punishingly elusive qualities of The Great Collapse. With highlights like the ritualistic and nihilistic “Birds of Prey,” the haunting “Napalm Dreams,” the massive “Warfare,” or the scorched earth campaign of “Unloved,” there is little not to like here. While deathcore groups seem to sell out when they include clean vocals, they add a new dimension to The Sea of Tragic Beasts (the yearning title track, the eerie “Mirrors,” or the weltschmerz of “Mourn”), a glimpse of humanity unseen in the nihilism of former efforts. With a tasteful palette and menacing arsenal of deathcore tricks and interpretations that transcend genre boundaries, a genuinely powerful lyrical scheme, and a master of the mix on board, The Sea of Tragic Beasts stands as Fit for an Autopsy’s best and most heart-wrenching amidst an already outstanding discography. – Dear Hollow

The Flaying // Angry, Undead – Did you ever wish The Black Dahlia Murder were just a little bit heavier? No? I suppose that’s fair enough, but The Flaying gave us something that’s essentially that anyway. These Quebecois crawled out from absolute nowhere to feast on the brains of the aforementioned Murderers and pair it with a mighty swig of Shadow of Intent. This is not symphonic, but it is classically melodic stuff, as the unfuckwithable opening trio of “Disloqué,” “Place du Parvis,” and “Genuflect” clearly express. Of particular note is the bass guitar performance, a tour-de-force on the part of one Seb, who adds palpable heft to the affair while also supplementing the compositions with agile counterpoint (“Elegy of Emptiness”). Angry, Undead contains nary a weak cut, hacking and slashing like the sash wringing, trash thinging, mash flinging, flash springing, bringing the crash thinging, hash slinging slasher that it is for a tight and infinitely replayable thirty minutes. Now get the hell out of here and listen to the thing already. – TheKenWord

Pathology // Reborn to Kill – While everyone was busy losing their minds over Devourment in August, another great slam record came and walloped the meathead masses who would listen: Pathology’s Reborn to Kill. A revamped lineup sees the band in the best shape they’ve been in since the mighty Awaken to the Suffering, with confidence and a surplus of creativity. Intending to make a statement, Pathology have invented “melo-slam” and set a high bar for the young sub-sub-sub-genre. The mixture of beefy, boneheaded slams and standout lead guitars which do for slam what Deicide’s incredible The Stench of Redemption did for Floridian death metal: keep the aggression and intensity but introduce excellent consonant classically metal shredding to the mix, make it integral to the sound, and ace it on the first try. Twelve songs fly by in thirty-three minutes, and highlights abound. “Stone Axe Dismemberment” has an incredible soaring lead section which transitions so abruptly into a blunt bludgeoning that it may as well be the reverse of 2001: A Space Odyssey’s bone-throw-to-space-station transition. Reborn to Kill is not to be missed, and far as brutal death metal goes is one of the year’s best. – Diabolus in Muzaka

Shadow of Intent // Melancholy – Beginning as an elite deathcore group, Shadow of Intent abandons the novelty of their Halo-themed roots for something altogether more sinister, and we’re met with a purely accessible death metal record with astounding technicality, dark symphonic overtones, and easily one of the best vocalists in metal. Tracks like “Barren and Breathless Macrocosm,” “Dirge of the Void,” and “Malediction” pay homage to The Black Dahlia Murder, Belphegor, and Cradle of Filth with an eerie all-out assault on the ears, while “Oudenophobia” and instrumental “The Dreaded Mystic Abyss” are exercises in tantalizing restraint. Melancholy is truly an astounding turn for these Americans, acknowledging their roots but ultimately moving forward, releasing a fiery standout in their already outstanding career. – Dear Hollow

Guttural Slug // Plague of Filth – While death metal as a whole didn’t experience quite the flood of quality releases in 2019 that it did in 2018, slam had an uncharacteristically slamtastic year. Angel Splitter, Organectomy, and of course the monstrous Devourment led the horde, but the biggest surprise for me was Guttural Slug’s third offering Plague of Filth. Personally, I despised the first two Sluggy offerings; weak platters fraught with lackluster songs. Plague of Filth, on the other hand, crushes the universe in its slimy vice grip. At times it even bumps shoulders with sloom (“Judgement”), which diversifies the album wonderfully. Furthermore, Guttural Slug’s particular style of slamming is extremely well represented here, especially in choice tracks like “Plague of Filth,” “The Earth Will Die Screaming” and “The Vermin King” where the slams are liable to break your face while bringing you to the point of no return at the same time. In the end, isn’t that the whole point? – TheKenWord

Serpent of Gnosis // As I Drink from the Infinite Well of Inebriation – A supergroup that lives up to expectations? That’s weird. Serpent of Gnosis sports sonic abusers from bands like Job for a Cowboy, The Black Dahlia Murder, and Eschaton, culminating in the crazy solid debut As I Drink from the Infinite Well of Inebriation. You can expect twenty-two minutes of full-throttle deathgrind with technical flourishes, Nails-esque death ‘n roll groove, and unpredictably spastic songwriting. While that doesn’t sound particularly exciting, it’s elevated by Jonny Davy’s exceptionally frantic and devastating vocal performance (a step up from his work with Job for a Cowboy), a bass-heavy approach that helps its moments of slow-burning malice, and a striking balance of instrumental technicality and tastefulness. From songs like the relentless “Decoherence” and “Fragile Vessel of Serenity,” the ominous plodder “Cognitivity,” and the shredding solos of “Hemorrhaging Fabrications,” it’s a surprisingly solid deathgrind outing. While the style inherently offers a limited sonic palette, Serpent of Gnosis makes it work with a debut that never overstays its welcome nor reaches beyond its potential. It’s an astoundingly solid album with a fuckton of promise, a promise that packs one helluva punch. – Dear Hollow

Cemican // In Ohtli Teoyohtica In Miquiztli – I love extreme metal that integrates cultural sounds from a band’s home country. Hailing from Guadalajara, Mexico, Cemican went all out bringing indigenous drums, flutes, and tribal melodies and chants into their groove-laden old school death metal. Their debut Ohtli Teoyohtica In Miquiztli is a vast exploration of how far the death metal envelope can be pushed in the pursuit of embracing native traditions. Granted, the flutes don’t always work well among the extremity of the surrounding material and the record is overlong to a degree, but everything else about it rules. Picking out tracks to help you guys get a feel for what the band accomplishes here is difficult as well, because they vary the application of both death metal and traditional instrumentation more than most bands do in an entire career—suffice it to say my favorite songs here are “El Respiro de la Tierra (Tlatecuhtli),” “Ritual,” “Itlach in Mictlantecuhtli” and “Azteca Soy”. Couple Cemican’s ability to meld an immense arsenal of sounds with some of the meatiest guitar tones I’ve heard this year and we have ourselves a winner. If you have even the slightest interest in sampling something exciting and unique from the death metal underground, Ohtli Teoyohtica In Miquiztli is a great place to start! – TheKenWord

NecroticGoreBeast // NecroticGoreBeast – ‘Twas a night in October and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Camo shorts hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Slamta Claus soon would be there. And arrive he did, knuckles dragging through the snow, with oodles of slamtastic brutality in tow. At the force of the impact I was taken aback – the good elves at Comatose took a sledgehammer to my sack. I rushed to the ER to see what was the matter – the damage was caused by NecroticGoreBeast’s first platter! What a good little album, both beefy and quick, the riffs strewn about it all gnarly and thick. Now slams, now gurgles, now blast beats and chugs! On offence, on effrontery, on obnoxiousness and fun! To the middle of the pit! To death from a wall! Enjoy the grotesqueries, the GoreBeast slays all! – Diabolus in Muzaka

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If you’re looking to check out Abigail Williams for the first time, don’t let the name mislead you. You won’t find a female-fronted outfit like Nightwish, Arch Enemy, or Unleash the Archers. Hell, you won’t find a female-fronted group at all. Or anything that might resemble the musical styles of the three bands mentioned. Instead, Abigail Williams seems to be everything else—core-ish black metal (In the Shadow of a Thousand Suns), traditional black (In the Absence of Light), and post-black (Becoming, The Accuser, and now). Manned by the dark mind of Ken Sorceron, Abigail Williams has come a long way in the last decade. Surviving lineup changes, relocations, and changes in musical directions—as well as fandom—Sorceron pushes on, refusing to settle on a path created for him by others’ expectations. Up ahead is another bend in this path. So, take my hand and let’s Walk Beyond the Dark together.

What I discovered when I first listened to Walk Beyond the Dark—which had me doubling back to find when I realized I missed it—was that it was fantastic for no particular reason. The only way I can describe it is with the old right-place-right-time argument. This is not a common scenario in the frenzy of putting together a top ten list. That time remains for the albums I’ve already listened to and there’s rarely time for any new music in the final weeks of December. But, closing out the year without giving Walk Beyond the Dark a listen was not an option. It took one minute of one track to convince me that this new record deserved a spot on my year-end list. Had I more time to absorb it—as I do now—WBtD would have been more than an honorable mention. Regardless, that one minute turned into fifty-five and that single track turned into seven. Then, once it ended, I started it all over again.

Like The Accuser, Walk Beyond the Dark is a dense outing that seems to grow darker and thicker as one progresses. “I Will Depart” opens with power and emotion that helps to orient you to the sharp rasps and bludgeoning riffs that’ll act as your shadow throughout the trek. It’s a riff-fest that combines second-wave chaos with the modern chuggery of Satyricon. It’s so packed with riffs that you’ll mistake the introduction of “Sun and Moon” as another transition. That’s until you feel the tribal drum work and moody tromping that is the livelihood of bands like Tool and Cobalt. The opener and “Sun and Moon” are an unbeaten duo. That’s until you arrive at “Black Waves” and “Into the Sleep.”

While the previous two tracks unleash a riff-laden aggressiveness like none other on the album, these latter two change the wind. Out of the blue, strings strike up a tune akin to the nightmares of Nick Cave’s The Road soundtrack. While there’re hints of clean chorals in the opener, they spread like blood into “Black Waves” and “Into the Sleep.” It’s the kind of combination most “symphonic” bands would kill to achieve. But many never will. But this black richness only grows from here, combining all the dark emotion into a mighty conclusion. That conclusion being the eleven-minute masterpiece, “The Final Failure.” This thing holds more melodic passion within it than all The Accuser combined. It has rasps, deathly barks, and powerful cleans, supported by barraging riffs, thick strings, and some of the best bass/drum work on the album. It’s a gorgeous pay off to a journey that’s as draining as a therapy session.

Walk Beyond the Dark is the outcome I’ve been waiting for since first dipping my fingers into the fires of Abigail Williams. It’s a massive achievement that many will agree with and others will not. Such is the nature of a band that has evolved and reinvented itself as many times as Abigail Williams. Side with Grier, or not, this is an outstanding release from Sorceron, with songwriting and instrumental prowess that no one can ignore. If I were to start 2019 over, Walk Beyond the Dark would be in my top ten six months before its release.

Tracks to Check Out: ”I Will Depart,” “Black Waves,” and “The Final Failure”

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Far Beyond Driven represented Pantera in something of a holding pattern following Vulgar, continuing to reinforce the pillars of their established sound. Despite my lasting fondness for the album, I would rank Far Beyond Driven behind the two preceding albums and its powerhouse follow-up, The Great Southern Trendkill. Yet it remains a stellar example of Pantera’s signature style and authoritative position in the metal scene at the time. Following the success of Vulgar, an easy option for Pantera to shoot for further mainstream glory would’ve been by increasing accessibility and melody into their sound, Thankfully this wasn’t the case, Far Beyond Driven was the band’s darkest and heaviest album, until follow-up The Great Southern Trendkill arrived a couple of years later. Opener “Strength Beyond Strength” kicks the album into top gear through its belligerent, cutthroat thrash delivery and burly southern grooves, forming a barnstorming, impactful introduction.

Far Beyond Driven is a touch front loaded, exemplified by “Strength Beyond Strength” and the clustered early album placing of the unfuckwithable trio of classic cuts, “Becoming,” “Five Minutes Alone,” and “I’m Broken.” Standards are set high early on, before “Good Friends and a Bottle of Pills” arrives. The less said about this song the better. It proves a rare misstep, even taking into account the second half of the album being not quite as memorable as the powerhouse front end. Second half highlights include, the grinding battery of “Slaughtered,” which brings the heaviness tenfold. Phil Anselmo pushes his vocals into more extreme territory, while the tricky instrumental interplay in the song’s later throes adds to the song’s dynamic structure. The NOLA-esque sludge and corrosive grooves add starch to the underrated “25 Years,” while the brutal “Throes of Rejection” offers up some discordant, thunderous Dimebag riffage and a ripping solo to go with its aggressive attack.

If there is one notable shift musically from Vulgar, it’s evident in the darker tone and greater infiltration of their Sabbathian inspired southern roots. This is well established before their faithful Sabbath cover of “Planet Caravan” closes the album. Questionable morals aside, Phil Anselmo was a formidable vocalist in his prime, lending the band real grit and a darker edge, due to his fondness of extreme metal, personal struggles, and the seedier side of the underground scene. He’s one piece of the puzzle that made Pantera the powerhouse force they were throughout the ’90s, delivering a aggressive, diverse performance in his gruff, signature style. Meanwhile the vice-tight rhythm section of drummer Vinnie Paul and bassist Rex Brown provided the reliably groovy, sturdy foundation for star of the show Dimebag to showcase his incredible arsenal of tricks. Dimebag’s performance is worthy of his reputation as he unloads an abundance of memorable, and occasionally quintessential, riffs, leads, and solos, delivered with his trademark style, flair and innovation.

Describing the music and legacy of Pantera as nostalgic does a disservice to the relevance the band still holds in my life, and the lives of many metalheads. Yes there’s certainly a nostalgia factor, but I still get the urge to spin their albums from time to time, and regardless of how many times I’ve heard them before, Pantera’s defining four album stretch from Cowboys to Trendkill remain treasured albums in my collection. Far Beyond Driven has its flaws and inconsistencies, yet remains an uncompromising, and occasionally brilliant, snapshot of a band at the height of metal dominance in the mid ’90s, a pounding precursor to the vastly underrated, The Great Southern Trendkill.

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