Velothian play a folk-tinged, somber kind of epic/ethereal post-black metal that strikes a good balance between distant tranquility and gritty textures. While there’s a great deal of woodsy ambiance and dreamy chants, the metal enjoys a satisfying, weighty presence whether it’s airy, open-note chords à la Alcest (“The Great Forest,” “Forgotten Ruins,” “Mania”) or direct, blasting riffs (“The One From My Dreams,” “Dragonfires”). Mythic Dawn uses its inspiration tastefully to create something all its own, never feeling schlocky or gimmicky like “video-game metal” often does. Speaking of, I was elated to discover some references to the original Oblivion OST throughout Mythic Dawn. For example, the soft piano melody of Oblivion’s “Auriel’s Ascension” translates beautifully into acoustic guitars and serves as a jumping-off point for the sunlit harmonies of “Mania,” and the game’s main theme makes an understated appearance in “The One From My Dreams.”¹ I appreciate that Mythic Dawn never feels like a direct 1:1 of Oblivion’s music or aesthetic, maintaining its own identity and imagery even as it incorporates melodies from the game’s OST such that those unfamiliar with Oblivion won’t feel like they’re missing something.

In Mythic Dawn, Velothian have preserved that expansive yet grounded quality I loved about Path of the Incarnate and even improved on it through tighter songwriting and a more verdant soundscape. One ought look to “The Great Forest” for how Velothian construct atmospheres with intelligence and restraint: softly striking guitars ring between rich arboreal sounds and sparse chanting, blooming into a simple but textured, evocative riff in the verse. “Mania” is another atmospherically decadent track, sustaining nearly every note played to create a dreamy haze above gorgeous chord progressions. Velothian understand the benefit of brevity, never bogging a song down with an excess of mindless riffing or languid ambiance, which keeps a slower song like “Forgotten Ruins” or a more varied track like “Night Mother” engaging throughout. Whereas the textures and melodies paint the vivid imagery, it’s largely the guitar’s mixing that gives the music its tactile, grounded feeling. It’s felt especially strongly in the galloping “The One From My Dreams” where the riffs have a gripping, full-bodied crunch to them that draws you in and directly places you into the world Velothian are evoking.

It’s clear that Velothian have grown a lot in the time leading up to this debut, but that does serve to highlight the few areas that stand to further improve. While the mix is overall an improvement over Path of the Incarnate’s, the cymbals can be a little distracting in the heavier tracks, namely “The One From My Dreams.” Though both “Mania” and “Dragonfires” are well-written, each song ends with non-sequiturs that don’t feel properly fleshed out. “Deadlands” is the only track that actually loses me; the riff-work is solid, and I enjoy how the drums resolve into the chorus, but it lacks the quiet, moving majesty of the other songs that keep me returning to them. But ultimately, these finer details of Mythic Dawn do little to diminish its charm or impact. When Mythic Dawn ends (after a tasteful 40-minute runtime, might I add), the good always shines much brighter than the not-as-good.

I’ve long been excited for what Velothian would do after Path of the Incarnate, and Mythic Dawn has rewarded my patience. This album is an improvement on their previous work in many ways: the songwriting is tighter, the sound is crisper, and the atmospheres more vivid. Velothian are still a little rough around the edges, but Mythic Dawn nevertheless well establishes Velothian’s unique voice and songcraft. This is maturely written, and imaginative ethereal post-black metal that has cemented Velothian as one of the better video-game-based metal bands out there, and I shall be enjoying Mythic Dawn for a long time yet.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Release
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: February 1st, 2026

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Brutal cold envelops the building as my minions scrape through ice and filthy slush to find even the smallest shard of metallic glimmer. With extensive budget cuts demanded by my exorbitant bonus schedule—as is my right as CEO of this filtration service—there was no room to purchase adequate gear and equipment for these harsher weathers. However, I did take up crocheting recently so each of my “employees” received a nice soft hat.

Hopefully, that will be enough to tide them over until the inclement weather passes and we return to normal temps. Until then, they have these rare finds to keep them warm, and so do you! REJOICE!

Kenstrosity’s Knightly Nightmare

AngelMaker // This Used to Be Heaven [November 20th, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of AngelMaker’s since their 2015 debut Dissentient. The grossly underrated and underappreciated Vancouver septet are a highly specialized deathcore infantry, with their lineup expanding steadily over their career in concert with their ever-increasing songwriting sophistication. Unlike the brutish and belligerent debut and follow-up AngelMaker, 2022’s Sanctum and new outing This Used to Be Heaven indulge in rich layering, near-neoclassical melodies, and dramatic atmosphere to complement AngelMaker’s trademark sense of swaggering groove. With early entries “Rich in Anguish” and “Haunter” establishing the strength of both sides of their sound, it always surprises me how AngelMaker successfully twist and gnarl their sound into shapes—whether it be hardcore, blackened, or melodic—I wasn’t anticipating (“Silken Hands,” “Relinquished,” “Nothing Left”). A rock-solid back half launched by the epic “The Omen” two-part suite brings these deviations from the expected into unity with the deathcore foundation I know AngelMaker so well for (“Malevolence Reigns,” “Altare Mortis”), and in doing so secure their status as one of the most reliably creative deathcore acts in the scene. Nothing here is going to change the minds of the fiercer deathcore detractors, but if your heart is open even just a crack, there’s a good chance This Used to Be Heaven will force themselves into it, if not entirely rip the whole thing asunder. My advice is simply to let it.

ClarkKent’s Sonic Symphonics

Brainblast // Colossus Suprema [November 11th, 2025 – Vmbrella]

A debut album five years in the making from a band formed in 2015, Colossus Suprema is the brainchild of Bogotá, Colombia’s Edd Jiménez. Jiménez turned his passion for and training in classical composition towards his symphonic progressive act, Brainblast. With Bach as an inspiration, Brainblast’s brand of technical death metal has the grandeur of Fleshgod Apocalypse, the speed of Archspire, and the virtuosity of concert musicians. Jiménez’s classical training shows — the compositions have an orchestral feel, only played at insane energy levels. The speed, the depth, and the breadth of the instrumentation are sure to leave you breathless. Nicholas Le Fou Wells (First Fragment) lays down relentless kitwork with jaw-dropping velocity, while Eetu Hernesmaa provides technical fretwork that’ll similarly leave you awestruck. He delivers sublime riffs on “Relentless Rise” and a surprising melodic lead that steals the show on “Unchain Your Soul.” Perhaps most prominent is the virtuoso play of the bass from Rich Gray (Annihilator) and Dominic Forest Lapointe (First Fragment) that is omnipresent and funky on each and every song. To top it all off is the piano (perhaps from Jiménez), giving the music some gravitas with the technical, concert-style playing. This record is just plain bonkers and tons of fun. Given this is the debut from a young musician, the idea that Brainblast has room to grow is plenty exciting.

Gods of Gaia // Escape the Wonderland [November 28th, 2025 – Self Released]

If you’ve been eagerly awaiting the next SepticFlesh release, Germany’s Gods of Gaia have got you covered. Founded in 2023 by Kevin Sierra Eifert, Gods of Gaia is made up of an anonymous collective from around the world, contributing to a dark, heavy, and aggressive form of symphonic metal. Their sophomore album, Escape the Wonderland, features a collection of death metal songs with plenty of orchestral arrangements that add a dramatic flair. Along with crushing riffs and thunderous blast beats, you’ll hear choral chants (“Escape the Wonderland,” “Burn for Me”), bits of piano (“What It Takes”), and plenty of cinematic symphonics. SepticFlesh is the obvious influence, but the grandiosity of Fleshgod Apocalypse flares up on cuts like the dramatic “Rise Up.” The front half is largely aggressive, with “What It Takes” taking the energy to thrash levels. The back half dials down the energy, even creeping to near doom on “Krieg in Mir,” but never pulls back on the heaviness. Cool as the symphonic elements are, the riffs, blast beats, and brutal vocal delivery are just as impressive. Make no mistake, this is melodic death metal above all else, with symphonic seasonings that elevate it a notch. Just the opposite of what the record title suggests, this is one wonderland you won’t want to escape.

Grin Reaper’s Frozen Feast

Hounds of Bayanay // КЭМ [November 15, 2025 – Self Released]

Two-and-a-half years after dropping debut Legends of the North, Hounds of Bayanay returns with КЭМ to sate your eternal lust for folk metal.¹ Blending heavy metal with folk instrumentation, specifically kyrympa² and khomus,³ as well as throat singing, Hounds of Bayanay might sound like a Tengger Cavalry or The Hu knockoff, but you’ll do yourself a disservice by writing them off. Boldly enunciated, clarion cleans belt out in confident proclamations while grittier refrains and overtones resonate beneath, proffering assorted and engaging vocal stylings. Rather than dwelling overlong in strings and tribal chanting, the deft fusion of folk instruments with traditional metal defines Hounds’ sound and feels cohesively integrated on КЭМ, providing an intimate yet heavy backdrop to a hook-laden and alluringly replayable thirty-nine minutes. In addition to the eclectic folk influence, there’s a satisfying variety of songwriting from track to track, with “Ardaq,” “Cɯsqa:n,” and “Dɔʃɔrum” exemplifying the enticing synthesis of styles. More than anything else, Hounds of Bayanay embodies heart and fun, warming my chilly days with a well-executed platter of Eastern-influenced folk metal. Don’t skip this one, or the decision could hound you.

Blood Red Throne // Siltskin [December 05, 2025 – Soulseller Records]

I’m shoving up against the deadline to wedge this one in, but Blood Red Throne’s latest deserves a mention, and bulldozing is just the sort of thing you should do while listening to BRT’s brand of bludgeoning, pit-stomping romp. Back in December, the venerable Norwegian death metal act dropped twelfth album Siltskin, maintaining their prolific and consistent release schedule. In addition to their dependable output, BRT stays the course with pummeling, brutish pomp. In his coverage of Nonagon and Imperial Congregation, Doc Grier drums up comparisons to Old Man’s Child, Panzerchrist, and Hypocrisy, and while I’m not inclined to disagree on those points, I’ll add that Siltskin also harkens to Kill-era Cannibal Corpse in its slick coalition of mid-paced slammers, warp-speed blitzes, and fat ‘n’ frolicking bass. Add to that the sly, sticky melody from the likes of Sentenced’s North from Here (“Vestigial Remnants”), and you’ve got a recipe for a righteous forty-five-minute smash-a-thon. Blood Red Throne’s last few records have been among their best, which is an incredible feat for a band this far into their career. While Siltskin doesn’t surpass BRT’s high-water mark, it keeps up, and if you’re hungry for an aural beatdown, then Blood Red Throne would like to throw their crown into the ring for consideration.

Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu // Immortality [December 17, 2025 – Bang the Head Records]

I am woefully late to the charms of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu, a Japanese death metal outfit prominently featuring slap ‘n’ pop bass. Had it not been for our trusty Flippered Friend, I might have continued this grievous injustice of ignorance, but thankfully, this is not the timeline to which I’m doomed. Immortality is Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s seventh album, and those who enjoy the band’s previous work should remain satisfied. For new acolytes, Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu grasps the rabid intensity of Vader and Krisiun and imbues it with a funky edge. Meaty bass rumbles and sprightly slapped accents, provided by bassist/vocalist Haruhisa Takahata, merge with Kouki Akita’s kit obliteration to establish a thunderous, unrelenting rhythm section. Atop the lower end’s heft, Keiichi Enjouji shreds and squeals with thrashy vigor and a keen understanding of melody. First proper track “Anima Immortalis” even includes gang intonations that work so well, I wish they were more prevalent across the album. The sum total of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s atmosphere is one of plucky exuberance that strikes with the force of a roundhouse kick to the dome. Had I discovered it sooner, Immortality would have qualified for a 2025 year-end honorable mention, as I haven’t been able to stop spinning it or the band’s prior releases.⁴ Though I’m still in the honeymoon phase, I expect this platter to live on in my listening, and recommend you not miss this GTK killer like I almost did.

Thus Spoke’s Random Revelations

The Algorithm // Recursive Infinity [November 21st, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of The Algorithm since the early days, back when their electronica-djent was almost twee in its experimental joy, spliced with light-hearted samples. Over the years, Rémi Gallego has tuned his flair for mesmeric, playful compositions to develop a richer, more streamlined sound. Recursive Infinity continues the recent upward trend Data Renaissance began. With riffs and rhythms the slickest since Brute Force, and melodies the brightest and most colourful since equally-prettily adorned Polymorphic Code, it’s a cyberpunk tour-de-force. The wildness is trained, chunky heaviness grounding magnetic melodies (“Race Condition,” “Mutex,” “By Design”), dense chugging transitioning seamlessly into techno (“Advanced Iteration Technique,” “Hollowing,” “Graceful Degradation), and adding bite to bubbly, candy-coloured soundscapes (“Rainbow Table,”). The skittering of breakbeats tempers synthwave (“Endless Iteration), and bright pulses wrap cascading electro-core (“Race Condition,” “Mutex”) and orchestral melodrama (“Recursive Infinity”). It’s often strongly reminiscent of some point in The Algorithm’s history, but everything is upgraded from charming to entrancing. This provides a new way to interpret Recursive Infinity: not just a reference to an endless loop in general, but to Boucle Infinie (Infinite Loop)—Remi’s other musical project—and by extension, The Algorithm themselves. Yet he is still experimenting, including vocoder vocals (“Endless Iteration,” “By Design”) for a surprisingly successful dark-Daft Punk vibe in slower, moodier moments. With nostalgic throwbacks transformed so beautifully, and the continued evolution, there’s simply no way I can ignore The Algorithm now. And neither should you.

Owlswald’s Holiday Scraps

Sun of the Suns // Entanglement [December 12th, 2025 – Scarlet Records]

Bands and labels take heed—We reserve December for two things: Listurnalia and celebrating another trip around the sun. It is not for releasing new music. Yet this blunder persists, ensuring we inevitably miss gems like Sun of the Suns’ sophomore effort, Entanglement.⁵ The record dropped just as the world was tuning out for the year, and it deserves much better. Building on the foundation of their 2021 debut, TIIT, the Italian trio has significantly beefed up their progressive death formula. Mixing tech-death articulation with deathcore brutality, Entanglement ensures fans of Fallujah will feel right at home with its effervescent clean melodies and crystalline textures. Francesca Paoli (Fleshgod Apocalypse) returns to provide another masterclass behind the kit with rapid-fire double-bass, blasts, and tom fills, while guitarists Marco Righetti and Ludovico Cioffi deliver cosmic shredding and radiant solos that are both technical and deliberate. While the early tracks lean into Fallujahian songcraft and Tesseract-style arpeggios, the album shines brightest late when the group largely sheds its stylistic orbit. “Please, Blackout My Eyes” pivots toward a majestic Aeternam vibe with ethereal tech-death incisiveness, while “One With the Sun” and “The Void Where Sound Ends Its Path” hit like a sledgehammer with Xenobiotic’s deathcore grooves. Though Luca Dave Scarlatti’s vocals lack differentiation, the sheer quality of the compositions carries the weight, proving Sun of the Suns are much more than mere clones.

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Whatever Coronatus is doing, Dreadful Waters sounds nice doing it. Oscillating between varying degrees of symphonic (“The Siren” and “Die Hexe und der Teufel”) and nautically inclined folk metals (“Southern Cross” and “A Seaman’s Yarn”), Dreadful Waters’ production and mix bring out the best in Coronatus’ instrumentation and give everything a rich openness. Guitars sound chunky and bold while taking on an auxiliary role to the violin and vocals, which are always warm and upfront. Coronatus’ mezzo sopranos bring your typical Tarja-era Nightwish operatics to “The Maelstrom” and “To the Reef!” while Nemesis’ “rock voice” means she brings a Jørn-like grizzled theatricality to her performances on “Dark Ice” and “The Ship’s Cook.” But what really stands out to me is Kurth’s drumming, which is more nuanced than the average symphonic drumming performance. The kick patterns on “Through the Brightest Blue”‘s chorus sound more like a Lamb of God drum track than Nightwish, and “To the Reef!” boasts a palpable jauntiness thanks to the percussion groove. Dreadful Waters is composed of many different pieces, so it’s nice that Coronatus got them all to sound good together.

But symphonic metal lives and dies on its vocalists, and while Coronatus’ singers are skilled musicians, their performances can feel awkward. Each vocalist often brings an almost comical level of warble to their voices, swinging tracks like “Southern Cross” and “A Seaman’s Yarn” towards the ridiculous. Nemesis in particular can overdo it, as her heavy, gravelly vibrato can at times chew the scenery. The mezzo soprano and “rock voice” stylings also sometimes stand at odds with each other, as on songs like “The Siren” and “Dark Ice,” they blend poorly and give off the impression that they weren’t in the studio at the same time. When Coroantus coalesce, like on the album highlight “The Ship’s Cook,” the result is a riveting blend of sophistication and grit that I could listen to all day, but moments like this are unfortunately rare on Dreadful Waters.

The slight vocal issues I see on Dreadful Waters may be a symptom of a larger issue on the album: the lukewarm songcraft. Coronatus’ songs mostly stick to either a slowburn or mid-paced stomp, featuring pretty folk melodies and pleasant orchestrations but little in the way of gripping hooks or powerful performances. Further, vocal melodies are usually played overly straight, throwing few unexpected turns or interesting intervals in favor of a fairly standard symphonic metal play sheet. This makes the more metal-friendly tracks like “The Maelstrom” and “The Siren” come off a bit tepid and, at Dreadful Waters’ worst, its ballads in “Southern Cross” and “Die Hexe und der Teufel” real slogs to get through. Only “The Ship’s Cook” excited me, and that’s because its power metal-adjacent vocal heroics and bouncy chorus melody embody what is woefully missing on much of Dreadful Waters: character.

Dreadful Waters neither sinks nor swims. Far from awful, this record’s shortcomings stem from not doing enough to stand out from the symphonic crowd or playing exceptionally well into its tropes. Less fairweather fans of symphonic metal than I may get more out of Coronatus’ style, but detractors of the style won’t be swayed from their haterdom by it either. Coronatus snagged a real winner with “The Ship’s Cook,” though, so I don’t foresee terrible sailing for the band in their future. But for meeting the need for big strings over my metal, Dreadful Waters doesn’t do it for me.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps MP3
Label: Massacre Records
Websites: facebook.com/coronatusofficial | coronatus.de
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

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Weft integrates the violin in a variety of clever ways that will sound comfortably familiar to fans of folk/black metal. The obvious comparison is Panopticon, particularly in the sublime acoustic guitar and violin pairing of the intro track “Leaves.” It also dances with the electric guitar in a wild, rugged manner like unto Windfaerer and Saor (“The Hull”). At the same time, Weft doesn’t allow the violin to become too overwhelming or dominant. Rather than solely relying on the customary trem-picking, the fierce guitar riffs and chord progressions of The Splintered Oar often prefer to wander into progressive death metal territory. Another surprising musical influence is Americana, featured briefly in “The Hull” and prominently in “Dream of Oaks.”

Once things get going, the bulk of The Splintered Oar is quite exhilarating. “False Kingdoms,” the first full song, opens with a great buildup, facilitated by Austin Lunn’s purposeful tom rhythms. After this point, the intensity ebbs and flows, but rarely lets up completely. The demonic violin lines and frenzied shrieks in “Red Dawn” cut through the listener’s defenses like wind chill. Anderson’s deep growls are usually effective as well, though they sometimes lack force and come across as more of a croak. Andrea Morgan’s guest vocals in “The Hull” help compensate for this, joining with the soothing strings in a manner reminiscent of Dzö-nga, which is a very good thing.

What holds The Splintered Oar back the most is a shaky beginning and ending. “Leaves” would have been a much more effective intro if it hadn’t repeated itself and dragged out its runtime to 5 minutes. On the other hand, 12-minute closer “Dream of Oaks” struggles to remain coherent. The entire first half is dreamy Americana, which later morphs into sleek Opethian prog and then death/doom before finally resuming Weft’s signature violin-driven black metal. These individual components are enjoyable enough on their own, but they become confusing when considered together. “Dream of Oaks” might have been an epic conclusion if it had the same degree of cohesion between The Splintered Oar’s disparate musical influences that the preceding tracks display.

Weft is a rare example of what is possible when a violinist creates black metal. Charlie Anderson’s compositional versatility is immediately obvious. While it doesn’t quite stick the landing—or the launch—The Splintered Oar’s midsection is very promising and even goosebump-inducing at times. If the less conventional musical genres can be consistently integrated in a potential sophomore record, Weft will be a force of nature to behold.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: weftmusic.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/weft_music
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

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Equinox marks a clear return to form for Equilibrium after the detour of Renegades. The electronic and metalcore elements from their last record still linger, occasionally poking their neon-tinted heads out, but the heart of the band’s sound is back in full force: that boisterous blend of Finntroll and Ensiferum filtered through the Europower cheese of Rhapsody of Fire, now with a touch of Avatar added. The songs are built on a familiar mix of traditional woodwinds, thick distorted guitars, and gaudy synth lines, with newcomer Fabi’s fearsome growl leading the charge through straightforward verses and repeated choruses. When these ingredients click, and the newer sonic flourishes collide with the band’s classic, folk-driven sense of epic grandeur, the result can be exhilarating. Tracks like “Gnosis,” “Awakening” and “Bloodwood” move easily between core-tinged riffs and massive, sing-along Viking choruses, delivered with the bombast Equilibrium is known for. Unfortunately, the rest of the album doesn’t reach the same heights.

According to the band, Equinox was originally intended as an EP rather than a full-length release, and the pacing issues and filler make that easy to believe. Large sections of several songs feel like padding before the actual track begins. Both “Borrowed Waters” and “Legends” open with long, drawn-out “atmospheric” intros that sap the impact of what follows, and the album includes no fewer than three interludes (“Archivist,” “Rituals of Sun and Moon” and “Tides of Time”). These moments don’t do the record any favors. They’re often delivered through a jarring mix of electronic trap drums, over-the-top synth lines and the band’s more traditional woodwind flourishes, creating a stylistic mishmash that feels pulled straight from a fantasy-themed Fortnite event. At times, these elements collide with simplistic, “tribal,” repetition-heavy vocals (“Earth Tongue”), resulting in something that sounds closer to a hyper-dramatic Nordaboo YouTube montage than classic Equilibrium. Even though the album does contain plenty of fully formed songs, these detours make the overall experience feel uneven and lopsided.

There are moments on Equinox where Equilibrium’s updated approach works despite its flaws. “I’ll Be Thunder” is a concise, effective track that blends electronic and orchestral elements into a tightly written folk-metal package. Even the seemingly toxic trance-metal/rap/metalcore hybrid verse in “One Hundred Hands” is intriguing, though the autotuned chorus and generic breakdown drag the song down. To the band’s credit, the mixing is solid across the album. It’s polished without being crushed by excessive loudness for a Nuclear Blast release, and producer Daniel McCook does an admirable job balancing the electronic, orchestral, and metal components. The result is a surprisingly even production that rewards multiple listens. I just wish there were more aspects of Equinox I could praise without reservations.

Equinox is a difficult album to recommend despite its strengths. Equilibrium have mostly abandoned the divisive sound of their previous record, while adapting its electronic elements in a return to form. The singles here do capture the bombast of their earlier work and are fun enough on their own, but the record around them is inconsistent and, at times, baffling in its execution. Equilibrium could certainly do a lot worse, but this is far from the re-conquest of the folk metal throne it could’ve been.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kb/s mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: equilibrium-metal.net | facebook.com/equilibrium
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

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The marriage of black and folk metal can take different forms, with folk infusions coming from instrumentation, melodies, and/or folk and pagan themes. Änterbila offers all of them, but presented disparately as stark components rather than fused together as an interconnected whole. Bookend instrumentals “Låt till Far” and “Eklnundapolskan” feature strings, a bagpipe, and choral harmonies between them, not unlike Saor or Summoning. These tracks conjure rustic firesides with an air of excitement as strange tales are told around them. Avart’s other six tracks are categorically different, hovering between pagan-leaning, late-eighties Bathory (“Kniven”) and the punky pluck of early Vreid (“Jordfäst”). I even catch a whiff of Bizarrekult (“Årsgång”) in the midst. None of the flavors are bad on their own, but without more cohesion, they’re a bit confusing on the same plate.

Avart is a lively affair, with snappy licks, punky riffs, and burbling kick rolls that whisk listeners through half an hour of sprightly black metal. Bandleader and founder Jerff wields axe and vocal duties, with Raamt abetting in six-string antics. The guitars trem pick their way through Avart, embracing an unadorned style that takes a few simple melodies, interchanges them every now and then, and rides through four or five minutes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this stripped-down approach, but without more distinctive hooks or emotive vocals, the songs bleed together. Drop me in the middle of any of the songs, and I’ll have a tough time naming which one it is unless Jerff repeats the title several times (“Kniven,” “Jordfäst”). Another issue Änterbila grapples with throughout Avart is repetition. Even with such a compact runtime, there’s not always enough substance to justify track lengths. “Jordfäst” could explore its ideas in two-thirds the time, for example, but instead pushes them past optimal duration. As it currently stands, there’s enough material for a solid EP, but relentless refrains without variations make shallow wells, and drawing from them too often becomes tedious.

Änterbila’s strengths lie in creating a dangerously charming atmosphere and not overstaying their welcome. Avart’s old school production underscores its low-fi mood, perfect for settings of yore where things lurking within shadows go bump in the night. Even though the mix isn’t polished, it ably captures Svaltunga’s punchy bass and drummer Monstrum’s quadrupedal onslaught. There flows an energy in the music that crackles with roguish vigor, and it’s here that Änterbila excels. It’s a shame lyrics weren’t included as part of the press kit since dark folklore provides such fertile ground for music. Understanding what the (presumed) native Swedish translates to could have heightened my appreciation for what secrets Avart holds. Still, the runtime is trim and helps deflect some of the monotony of simpler song structures, keeping the overall package easily digestible.

Änterbila possesses all the ingredients for a rollocking good time, but fumbles with the recipe. The folk metal tag is a bit misleading, and given that the folk elements are so well-executed in the intro and outro, it’s disappointing that Änterbila didn’t incorporate them throughout the entire album. Doing so could have thwarted the uniformity across the remaining songs, adding dynamism and a through-line that brings everything together with reinforced congruity. Every time I spin Avart, I hope to find something I’d missed previously, because I want to like it more than I do. Avart seethes with potential, and while I don’t regret any of the time I spent with the album, I don’t expect to return to it, either. Hopefully, the next iteration delivers on the promise Änterbila has established here.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

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Waldgeflüster

That may not be entirely accurate because, despite being born from the same place, Knochengesänge I and II grew into very different beasts. I will sound much more familiar to those who know Waldgeflüster’s prior work. It shares a deep kinship with the folksy trem-picking of Panopticon, not to mention that both groups put out double albums this year. Austin and Bekah Lunn even directly contributed their musical and photographic talents to Knochengesänge. II is a patchwork of different musical styles. It ranges from acoustic folk (“Das Klagelied der Krähen”) to overcast post-rock (“Frankfurt, 19. März,” “The Little King and His Architect”) to semi-upbeat alt-rock (“A Crusade in the Dark”). Both records conclude with different renditions of the traditional Scottish song “The Parting Glass.”

Knochengesänge I sees Waldgeflüster attempting to escape the shadow of similar, more influential atmospheric black metal groups. It’s telling that, despite the band’s longevity, no AMG writer to date has ever tagged Waldgeflüster in another band’s review as a reference point. Indeed, much of I passes uneventfully in a Harakiri for the Sky haze, but I tend to like it best when Waldgeflüster adds their own folksy flavor. The melodies of “Der kleinste König und sein Architekt” are especially crisp, and the song really comes into its own at the end when it transitions to a warm folk section with hearty clean singing and subtle violin strings. Charlie Anderson’s violin appears frequently, adding a great deal of poignancy. “Knochengesang” and “Bamberg, 20. Juni” are other notable examples of Waldgeflüster using strings to elevate their sound.

Since this is a double album, you already know what the primary flaw of Knochengesänge is—bloat. However, the problem runs deeper than mere minute count. Even if each track were halved in length, many would still have an uphill battle maintaining my attention. This is the case with both parts but particularly true of II, most of which seemed to drag on for an eternity. The greatest exception is “Singing of Bones” almost at the very end of II, a pleasant folk number with acoustic guitar and violin working in tandem. Even though II is all over the place stylistically, most of it isn’t so wildly different from I that it couldn’t have conceivably been integrated. I even tried reordering the tracks into each album’s corresponding pairs and found that many covered each other’s weaknesses decently well (again, except for bloat), which supports my suspicion that these two mediocre albums could have been distilled into one really good album.

Knochengesänge began with an interesting double album premise that, sadly, yielded little of note during its 109-minute combined runtime. I and II may be highly symmetrical but they are only mildly codependent. I can’t recommend listening to them back to back and, in fact, II can be safely disregarded by most listeners. Fans of the Panopticon aesthetic should find enough to enjoy in I, but it may fall a bit flat for everyone else, especially given that newcomers like Autrest are offering a much more potent take on this type of atmoblack. A frustrating refusal to self-edit is what holds both records back the most; nearly every track is 8 minutes or longer, and few fully justify their length. I respect Waldgeflüster’s desire to explore new musical avenues and I’ll keep an eye on them in the future, but I don’t expect to return much to Knochengesänge.

Rating: I: 2.5/5.0 | II: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: blackmetalwaldgefluester.bandcamp.com | waldgefluester.com | facebook.com/blackmetalwaldgefluester
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

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U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj sees Cemican at their heaviest and most adventurous yet. Pounding drums of various disciplines hit with the impact of a titan’s fist on sacred ground, as roaring growls and ethereal chants swirl amongst stomping riffs and tempestuous tremolos. Soaring atop these storming pyrotechnics, an assortment of flutes (played by no fewer than five of Cemican’s seven musicians) sing ancestral melodies, sometimes in lockstep with the modern metallics, other times as an uplifting counterpoint. A rebellious heavy metal spirit influences a fair portion of Cemican’s songwriting this time around, going so far as to step boldly into the spotlight and overwrite the record’s death metal core entirely, twice (“El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas,” “¿Dónde estás?”). Regardless of what corporeal form it takes, though, Cemican’s sound is epic, ancient, and massive.

At an hour and seven minutes, U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj sounds like a bloated mass desperate for self-editing on paper. Yet, six years of careful attention to detail result in 12 songs that all have something interesting and memorable to take home, and a wealth of ideas that support and even elevate those takeaways. Killer riffs in “Yóok ‘ol kaab Maya” work in tandem with wild flutes, squealing solos, and a somewhat unsteady chorus that feels natural in context with the composition, where it would feel clumsy elsewhere. Brutal speed intensifies “Los Guardianes de la Tierra” as blackened winds chill companion piece “Hun-Came” to the bone, creating a thrilling but well-timed shift from the chunky grooves of earlier bangers like “Tán tí le Xibalba” and powerful opener “Kukulkán Wakah Chan.” Even Cemican’s long-form excursions, which build sturdy bridges between tribal instrumentals, deadly heft, and ethereal melodicism, boast a compelling multitude of ideas, buttery-smooth transitions, and rich textures that easily justify their protracted runtimes (“Viaje Astral del Quetzal de Fuego,” “Horizonte de Almas”).

Of course, with so many ideas stuffed into one work, there are bound to be some kinks. For Cemican, those hiccups largely surface when they shift styles with no telegraphing. Such outliers as “El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas” and “¿Dónde estás?” are good songs on their own. In particular, it’s surprising how successful “El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas” is as a heavy/power epic. However, there’s very little connective tissue—right down to the lighter and cleaner guitar tone—that explains its existence in the album context, other than subject matter. “¿Dónde estás?” damages album cohesion in much the same way, and with somewhat less success than its album-mate due to less memorable writing and ballad-like wistfulness. Without these tracks, not only would U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj clock in at a more reasonable 56 minutes total, but it would feel more consistent and smooth. That said, “El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas” would’ve made an excellent bonus track or even just a separate single that I’d happily recruit for playlist duty.

In sum, Cemican solidify their status as one of the more interesting acts in the death metal universe. Their adoption of indigenous music as part of their formula goes a long way towards setting them apart from their peers sonically, but it’s their fearless songwriting and meticulous detailing that seals the deal. U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj represents their most refined and compelling work to date, and while it has its missteps, even those would find purchase on another record better built to support them. It just goes to show how talented and skilled Cemican are. With this in mind, I look forward to spending more time enjoying U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj, a qualified, but unique triumph.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: cemican1.bandcamp.com/album/u-kuukankil-mayakaaj | facebook.com/pages/CEMICAN/320421353267
Releases Worldwide: October 31st, 2025

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Nine Treasures

Seeking the Absolute continues Nine Treasures’ pursuit of Mongolian folk metal, but ditches their previous full-throttle metal approach in favor of a more progressive, alternative philosophy. Tracks forgo the verse-chorus structure in favor of songs that ebb and flow, preferring groove over speed (“Indecision,” “The Ultimate Evolution.”). More so than ever before, drummer Namra and bassist Orgil are unleashed on Seeking the Absolute, laying out hypnotic beats (“Real Dream”) and pulsing grooves (“Until Now”) with an expertise that feels effortless. Saina’s balalaika and Nars’ morin khurr,² while always good, now feel essential to Nine Treasures’ sound, with balalaika providing a percussive role to “Indecision” and morin khurr used for both drone notes and leads on “Steel Falcon.” Seeking the Absolute thrives off repetition, with expert musicianship and clever songwriting keeping the slow progressions more meditative than monotonous. But nowhere does main-man Ashkan forget to bring the big guitars or big vocals when they matter most, dishing out riffs reminiscent of TOOL and alt-era Metallica from opener “Until Now” to the closing title track. Their reinvention succeeded; Nine Treasures landed on a style that works for them.

Nine Treasures are more distinct and interesting than ever on Seeking the Absolute, but not without their shortcomings. Though they reject conventional pop/rock structure, songs on Seeking the Absolute still follow certain patterns of quiet starts, loud verses, quiet bridges and loud finishes. While electrifying on “Until Now” or “Steel Falcon,” even reaching its best execution in the closing title track, there’s nonetheless a sense that you’ve heard it all before by then. A lack of solos also contributes to this issue; a guitar solo here or there would help differentiate things. Further, Seeking the Absolute’s approach to alt-prog draws too much from TOOL for comfort, particularly in its delay-heavy bass lines played high on the fret board that makes me wonder if Justin Chancellor has some missing pages in his notebook (“The Ultimate Evolution”). Seeking the Absolute has all the pieces of a great album, and I know the pieces fit, but in Nine Treasures discovering their sound, they may have played too closely into it.

Regardless, for a band drastically changing sound, Nine Treasures has crafted a remarkably engaging and re-listenable album. Seeking the Absolute sounds much better than its brick-walled DR score would suggest, with every instrument and voice sounding clear and well-balanced in the mix. This lets the fantastic performances shine within Seeking the Absolute’s tight, immediate songwriting, such as the folk-forward groove of “Just Like You,” the 10,000 Days-but-lean “Indecision,” and the thrashy morin-khurr-and-guitar assault on “Lonely Old Horse.” Vocally, Ashkan has the range and control to make lighter moments like “Indecision” and “Just Like You” soar, and the grit and power to belt out the heavier tunes like “Until Now” and “Steel Falcon.” Even though I don’t understand a word of what he’s saying, he still commands ateention like the best frontmen can. Both progressive and concise, easy-listening and inventive, Nine Treasures give Seeking the Absolute broad appeal and artistic depth.

Nine Treasures was always good, but Seeking the Absolute sounds like what the band was always meant to be. Like Pantera with Cowboys from Hell, Nine Treasures exudes confidence in their transformation, crafting a fun, approachable chunk of metal without compromise to their new vision. There’s still room to grow; TOOL will be expecting some compensation/credits for a few of those bridges. But for fans of folk, progressive, and alternative metal, Seeking the Absolute is a joy to behold. Nine Treasures has arrived.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: ninetreasures.bandcamp.com | ninetreasures.net | facebook.com/ninetreasuresofficial
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

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If you thought June was hot, you aren’t ready for what July has in store. The thin metallic walls of these flimsy ducts warp and soften as the sweltering environs continue to challenge the definition of “habitable.” But I must force my minions to continue their work, as this duty is sacred. Our ravenous appetites cannot be slaked without the supplementary sustenance the Filter brings!

Thankfully, we rescued just enough scraps to put together a meager spread. Enjoy in moderation!

Kenstrosity’s Blackened Buds

Echoes of Gloom // The Mind’s Eternal Storm [July 12th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Queensland isn’t my first thought when considering locales for atmospheric black metal. A genre so often built upon frigid tones and icy melodies feels incongruous to the heat and beastliness of the Australian landscape. Yet, one-man atmoblack act Echoes of Gloom persists. Masterminded by one Dan Elkin, Echoes of Gloom evokes a warm, muggy, and morose spirit with debut record The Mind’s Eternal Storm. But unlike many of the atmospheric persuasion, Echoes of Gloom also injects a classic heavy metal attack and a vaguely punky/folky twist into their formula to keep interest high (“Immortality Manifest,” “Throes of Bereavement I”). Furthermore, Echoes of Gloom weaponizes their energetic take on depressing atmoblack such that even as my head bounces to the riffy groove of surprisingly propulsive numbers like “The Wandering Moon” and “Great Malignant Towers of Delirium,” a palpable pall looms ever present, sapping all color from life as I witness this work. This in turn translates well to the long form, as demonstrated by the epic two-part “Throes of Bereavement” suite and ripping ten-minute closer “Wanderer of the Mind’s Eternal Storm,” boasting dynamics uncommon in the atmospheric field. In sum, if you’re the kind of metal fan that struggles with the airier side of the spectrum, The Mind’s Eternal Storm might be a good place to start.

Witchyre // Witchy Forest Dance Contest [July 14th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Germany’s Witchyre answer a question nobody asked but everyone should: what would happen if black metal and dance music joined forces? With debut LP Witchy Forest Dance Contest, we get to experience this mad alchemy firsthand, and it is an absolute joy! The staunchly anti-fascist Witchyre take the raw sound everyone knows and pumps it full of groove, bounce, and uninhibited fun for a raucous 46 minutes. Evoking equal parts Darude and Darkthrone, bangers like “Let There be Light…,” “Witchy Forest Dance Party,” and “Lost in a Dream” burst with infectious energy that feels demonic and exuberant at the same time. The raw production of the metallic elements shouldn’t work with the glossy sheen of electronic doots, but Witchyre’s often pop-punky song structure that develops as these divergent aesthetics collide adeptly bridges the gap (“Spirits Twirling,” “The Vampire Witch,” “Dragon’s Breath”). My main gripe is that even at a reasonable 46 minutes, each song feels a bit bloated, and some dance elements feel recycled in multiple places (“The Spirits Robbed My Mind”). But don’t let that scare you away. Witchyre is a delightful little deviation from convention fit for fans of Curta’n Wall and Old Nick, and everyone should give it a whirl just for fun!

Owlswald’s Hidden Hoots

Sheev // Ate’s Alchemist [July 11th, 2025 – Ripple Music]

While stoner can be hit-or-miss, Ripple Music often delivers the goods. And with Berlin’s Sheev, they can add another notch to their sativa-flavored belt. Since 2017, the four-piece has been brewing their unique, progressive-infused stoner rock sound. On their second full-length, Ate’s Alchemist, Sheev doubles down on their sonic elixir, with a throwback prog-rock vibe that evokes the likes of Yes and Jethro Tull, but with heavy doses of grunge, jam and modern rock. Vocalist Nitzan Sheps’ provides a stripped-down and authentic performance, sounding like a cross between Muse’s Matt Bellamy and Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley. The rhythm section is particularly great here. Drummer Philipp Vogt’s kit work is exceptionally musical, with intricate cymbal patterns on tracks like “Elephant Trunk,” “Cul De Sac,” and “King Mustard II” that fuel deep-pocket grooves. He also provides Tool-like syncopated rhythms on tracks like “Tüdelüt” and “Henry” that lock with bassist Joshan Chaudhary. Chaudhary’s bass playing is rare in its prominence and clarity in the mix. He maintains a tight pocket while also venturing out regularly with nimbler, adventurous flurries that highlight his technical skill. Yeah, a couple of the longer songs get a little lost, but the album is packed with killer musicianship and vocal hooks that stick with you, so it barely matters. Overall, Sheev has delivered a solid record that I’ll be spinning a lot—and you should too.

Dephosphorus // Planetoktonos [July 18th, 2025 – Selfmadegod Records/7 Degrees Records/Nerve Altar]

Space…the final grind-tier. On their fifth album, Planetoktonos (“Planetkiller”), Greek astro-grind quartet Dephosphorus rejects normal grind classifications and instead annihilates worlds with a brutal, interstellar collision of grind, blackened death, and hardcore. Taking inspiration from the harsh sci-fi of James S.A. Corey’s The Expanse, Planetoktonos is a relentless twenty-eight-minute assault—a sonic asteroid belt of thick, menacing distortion and time-warped drumming that channels Dephosphorus’ raw, furious energy. “The Triumph of Science and Reason” and “After the Holocaust” attack with the ruthless speed of Nasum while others, such as “The Kinetics of a Superintelligence Explosion,” “Hunting for Dyson Spheres,” and “Calculating Infinity,” punctuate sludgy aggression with razor-sharp, shredding passages reminiscent of early Mastodon that offer contrasting technical and rhythmic hostility. Vocalist Panos Agoros’ despairing howls are a particular highlight, full of a gravelly, blackened urgency that sounds the alarm for an interplanetary attack. Gang vocals on tracks like “Living in a Metastable Universe” and “The Kinetics of a Superintelligence Explosion” add extra weight to his frantic performance, proving Dephosphorus can incinerate worlds and still have a blast doing it. Raw, intense, and violent, Planetokonos is a must-listen for fans seeking Remission-era energy.

Tyme’s Tattered Treats

Mortual // Altars of Brutality [July 4th, 2025 – Nuclear Winter Records]

From the fetid rainforests of Costa Rica, San Jose’s Mortual dropped their sneaky good death metal debut, Altar of Brutality, on Independence Day this year. Free of frills and fuckery, Justin Corpse and Master Killer—both have guitar, bass, and vocal credits here—go for the jugular, providing swarms of riffs entrenched in filthy, Floridian swamp waters and powdered with Jersey grit. Solo work comes fast, squealy, and furious as if graduated from the Azagthothian school of shred (“Dominion of Eternal Blasphemy,” “Skeletal Vortex”), as hints of early Deicide lurk within the chugging chunks of “Altar of Brutality” and whiffs of early Monstrosity float amongst the speedier nooks and crannies of “Divine Monstrosity.”¹ Incantationally cavernous, the vocals fit the OSDM mold to a tee, sitting spaciously fat and happy within Dan Lowndes’ great mix and master, which consequently draws out a bestial bass sound that permeates the entirety of Altar of Brutality with low-end menace. Chalo’s (Chemicide) drum performance warrants particular note, as, from the opening tom roll of “Mortuary Rites,” he proceeds to bash skulls throughout Altar of Brutality’s swift thirty-five-minute runtime with a brutal blitz of double-kicking and blast-beating kit abuse. Embodying a DIY work ethic that imbues these tracks with youthful energy and a wealth of death metal character, Mortual aren’t looking to reinvent the wheel as much as they’d like to crush you under its meaty treads, over and over again.

Stomach // Low Demon [July 18th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Droney, doomy, sweaty, and sludgy as fuck, Stomach’s blast furnace second album, Low Demon, is the antithesis of summer-fun metal. Hailing from Geneva, Illinois, Stomach is drummer/vocalist John Hoffman (Weekend Nachos) and guitarist Adam Tomlinson (Sick/Tired, Sea of Shit), who capably carry out their cacophonous work in such a way as to defy the fact that they’re only a duo.² At volume, and believe me, you’ll want to crank this fucker to eleven, Low Demon will have you retching up all that light beer you drank by the pool and crying for yer mom, as “Dredged” oozes, rib-rattling from the speakers, a continuous, four-and-a-half-minute chord-layered exercise in exponentially applied tonal pressure. With five tracks spanning just over forty-three minutes, there’s not a lot on Low Demon that’s in a hurry, and aside from sections of up-tempo doom riffs (“Get Through Winter”) and some downright grindery (“Oscillate”) offering respite from the otherwise crushing wall of sound, listening to Stomach is akin to being waterboarded with molasses. Heavy influences from Earth, Sunn O))), Crossed Out, and Grief—whose Come to Grief stands as a sludge staple—form the basis for much of Stomach’s sound, and while Primitive Man and Hell draw apt comparisons as well, I’m guessing you know what you’re getting into by now. Maniacally cinematic and far from light-hearted, Stomach’s Low Demon was everything I didn’t think I needed during this hot and humid-as-an-armpit-in-hell summer.

Killjoy’s Flutes of Fancy

Braia // Vertentes de lá e cá [July 10th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Bruno Maia is one of the most inventive and hardworking musicians that I know of. Best known for the whimsical Celtic folk metal of Tuatha de Danann, he also has his own folk rock side project, Braia. Vertentes de lá e cá explores the rich history and culture of the Minas Gerais state in his native country, Brazil.³ Bursting with more sweetness than a ripe mango, Vertentes de lá e cá sports a huge diversity of musical styles and instruments. A combination of flute, viola, and acoustic guitar forms the backbone of most of the songs, like the Irish jigs in “Vertentes” or the flitting melodies of “Princesa do Sul.” My ears also detect accordion (“O Cururu do Ingaí”), saxophone (“Serra das Letras”), harmonica (“Hipólita”), banjo (“Carrancas”), and spacey synth effects (“Pagode Mouro”). That last one might sound out of place, but it makes more sense after learning of the local tales of extraterrestrial encounters. Maia sings in only two of the twelve tracks (“Emboabas” and “Rei do Campo Grande”), but all 41 minutes should be engaging enough for listeners who are typically unmoved by instrumental music. Though thematically focused on one specific location, Vertentes de lá e cá deserves to be heard by the entire world.

Storchi // By Far Away [July 25th, 2025 – Self-Release]

I would guess that the “experimental” tag causes some degree of trepidation within most listeners. However, occasionally an artist executes a fresh new vision so confidently that I can’t help but wonder if it’s secretly been around for a long time. Storchi, an instrumental prog group from Kabri, Israel, utilizes a flute in creative ways. Its bright, jazzy demeanor almost functions as a substitute for a vocalist in terms of expressiveness and personality. The Middle Eastern flair combined with modest electronic elements reminds me of Hugo Kant’s flute-heavy multicultural trip-hop. The chunky palm-muted guitar and bass borrow the best aspects of djent alongside eccentrically dynamic drum tempos. There is premeditation amidst the chaos, though. The triplet tracks “Far,” “Further,” and “Furthest” scattered throughout By Far Away each offer a unique rendition of the same core flute tune. “Lagoona” and “Smoky” make good use of melodic reprisals at the very end to neatly close the loop on what might have otherwise felt like more disjointed songs. Despite frequent and abrupt stylistic shifts, Storchi manages to make the 31-minute runtime of By Far Away feel more enjoyable than jolting. Flute fanatics should take note.

ClarkKent’s Addictive Addition

Daron Malakian and Scars on Broadway // Addicted to the Violence [July 19th, 2025 – Scarred for Life]

Since System of a Down disbanded, guitarist Daron Malakian has gone on to release 3 full-length albums under the moniker Scars on Broadway between 2008 and 2025. This spinoff project has proven Malakian to be the oddball of the group, and this goofiness hasn’t mellowed since SOAD’s debut released 27 years ago. The energetic set of tunes on Addicted to the Violence mixes nu-metal, groove rock, and pop with plenty of synths to create some fun and catchy beats. Sure, you have to delve through some baffling lyrics,⁴ such as when Malakian sings that there’s “a tiger that’s riding on your back / And it’s singing out ‘Rawr! Rawr!'” (“Killing Spree”). Malakian also turns to the familiar theme of drug addiction that he and Serj have explored from “Sugar” to “Heroine” to “Chemicals.”⁵ This time around, it’s “Satan Hussein,” where he mixes Quaaludes and Vicodin with Jesus Christ. To offset the repetition within songs, Malakian has the sense to mix things up. There’s the nu-metal cuts of “Satan Hussein” and “Destroy the Power,” featuring energetic vocalizations and grooves, but there’s also a lot of pop (“You Destroy You”). The riffs may not be as wild or creative as times past, but Addicted to the Violence makes use of a variety of instruments that keep things fresh, from an organ (“Done Me Wrong”) to a mandolin (“You Destroy You”) to some sweet synth solos. There’s even a brief saxophone appearance to conclude the album. Yes, I know exactly what you’re thinking: “This sounds awesome!”

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