I’m going to come out and say it. Arch Enemy has done untold damage to female-fronted metal bands. While their influence is undeniable, every iteration of the band has featured monotone vocals, cringe-inducing lyrics, and leather-clad frontwomen. As a woman, I have no issue with these things in a vacuum, but in the larger music sphere, they created simultaneously high and absurdly low standards. Requiring frontwomen to be stereotypically hot, thin, and sport bright hair, while also plummeting standards on the musical side with their milquetoast melodeath slop. This is an ill omen for North Carolina’s Blackwater Drowning, seemingly following in Arch Enemy’s footsteps on a surface level, but do they make the same mistakes from a musical perspective, or are they influenced only in aesthetics?

The post Blackwater Drowning – Obscure Sorrows Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Puns aside, NON frequently oscillates between melodic death and symphonic black metal. Tracks like “Corporealisation Threshold,” “Deadened and Scarified” and “Excoriating Reality” channel the guitar-forward spirit of Omnium Gatherum or Mors Principium Est, while others are forged in the cold 90s-era symphonic black mold of yore (“Black Dawn,” “The Befouled Ziggurat of Non”). Desoration even finds room to pepper in the punchy, rhythmic grooves of Lamb of God (“Beyond the Veil of Sleep”) or the operatic brutality of Fleshgod Apocalypse (“Singularity Ritual,” “Interitus the Herald of Ruin”). Regardless of NON’s stylistic lean, Desoration fortifies every note with pinpoint accuracy, as high-velocity picking, assaulting blasts and syncopated chugging underpin dramatic synchestral flourishes. The orchestral arrangements act as NON’s nexus, fueling the record’s kinetic energy with both urgency and dramatic intensity. Though Desoration’s sound doesn’t break new ground, the formula works as a whole, relying on instrumental prowess to keep the listener locked in.

Great albums live or die by their songwriting, and the writing on NON is solid. “Singularity Ritual,” “Those Who Dwell in Darkness” and “Interitus the Herald of Ruin” thrive on sharp hooks, cavalry-charge gallops and solos brimming with bright, sweeping scales that put Desoration’s talent on full display. “Corporealisation Threshold,” in particular, reaches its zenith during a synchronized closing battery of percussive riffing and double-kick work. It’s a necessary jolt of energy that arrives just in time, delivering the adrenaline spike I found myself chasing through the preceding tracks. While the writing isn’t perfectly consistent across all eleven songs—”Beyond the Veil of Sleep,” for instance, lacks hooks and “Black Dawn” is far too long—NON overcomes these lulls through Desoration’s sheer talent and an obvious command of the melodic death sound.

Favoring a synthetic sheen, NON’s main weakness is its production. While a sterilized production style is a common aesthetic that many bands seemingly adopt for convenience, here it results in an overly digitized sound that quickly becomes tiresome. In fact, I spent my entire time with NON craving the dynamics Desoration abandoned in the editing room. Aean Campbell’s vocals are adept and hit all the standard death beats, but they sit so far forward in the mix that they drown out much of the instrumental nuance, particularly the guitars. The biggest tragedy, however, is the drums. Bennett Jones’ performance itself is stellar, but the tones are a disaster. The toms sound thin, and the cymbals are a wash of static. It honestly sounds like they plugged in a Roland electronic kit, hit “record” and called it a day. It’s a shame that low-effort tones bury such high-level playing. I understand the necessity of working within tight constraints to achieve a pro sound on an indie budget, but production this over-processed takes a toll on my feathery ears.

Desoration is a young act that radiates promise and NON proves these Kiwis possess the pedigree to compete globally. It’s frustrating that the production prevents the album from reaching its full potential. However, if you can look past this blemish, you’ll find a good melodic death record with solid songwriting and impressive performances full of symphonic carnage. NON firmly establishes Desoration as a group to watch.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Released
Websites: desoration.bandcamp.com | desoration.com | facebook.com/desorationmetal
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

The post Desoration – NON Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

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.

The post Stuck in the Filter: November/December 2025’s Angry Misses appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Carrion Vael

Looking back over the last three albums, Carrion Vael strikes me as a band trying out different personas. Abhorrent Obsessions revels in technicality, reminding me of Exocrine and Psycroptic, while Cannibals Anonymous dabbles with deathcore along with adding a hearty helping of clean vocals. Overall, Carrion Vael embodies the violent onslaught of The Black Dahlia Murder and merges it with the melodic agility of Allegaeon, crafting an influence-laced affair with staunch sonic keystones. The clean and harsh vocal trade-offs throughout Slay Utterly serve as a clever nod to the killer/victim subject matter, expanding on the melodic phrasing from Cannibals. Meanwhile, understated orchestrations occasionally sneak in, unlocking an intricate audio arena that ranges from bludgeoning to grandiose and bracing Carrion Vael for their next evolution.

Carrion Vael scintillates with battering virtuosity on Slay Utterly, continuing both the technical guile from Abhorrent Obsessions and the savage euphony of Cannibals Anonymous. Guitarists Trenton Limburg and Ryan Kuder strut up and down the fretboard like cocks of the walk, ejecting molten melodies and solos with wicked exuberance. “Truth or Consequences” features choice six-string moments, opening with a stripped-back, Spanish-style acoustic jaunt and unleashing a nifty harmonized solo towards the end. In the meantime, human metronome Matt Behner bashes his kit to smithereens, rarely relenting in his unyielding kicks and bionically smooth fills. On the vocal front, Travis Lawson Purcell roars, croons, and bellows in an inspired exhibition of versatility, with “1912” demonstrating his strong cleans as well as rapid-fire stylings that recall Archspire. Throughout, subtle swells of strings (“19(fucking)78”, “Black Chariot”) expand on a burgeoning dimension of Carrion Vael’s already overflowing arsenal.

Despite Carrion Vael doing so much right, a few weak links undercut what Slay Utterly could be. Given the complex layers populating this lush soundscape, it craves room to breathe. Instead, Slay Utterly nearly asphyxiates for lack of dynamic range, with Alex Arford’s bass the most immediate casualty in the loudness war.¹ Listening in my car or through my computer speakers dampens the experience because of how crushed everything sounds, which I loathe because of the fabulous passion present. My headphones present an improved experience, but not by much. Influences also restrict Carrion Vael’s identity, where some tracks sound like mashups of other bands rather than an original, cohesive personality. While “40 Echoes upon the Parlor” separates itself by dexterously blending hyper-speed guitars, harsh and clean vocals, and supporting orchestrations, adopting this modality across all tracks would further buoy Slay Utterly. Lastly, I wish there were more obvious musical cues that coincided with the album’s theme. I listened to it ten times before I read the promo blurb about serial killers and their victims, but even knowing that, nothing stands out to connect the songs with their inspirations. Leaning into the concept more would have helped the album attain loftier heights.

Ultimately, Slay Utterly leaves me torn of heart and eardrum. Carrion Vael delivers a fun album that I would revisit more if the production leaned toward organic and rich rather than bricked and over-compressed. Despite that, these Hoosiers have constructed a burly forty-two minutes that sizzle with enough slick riffcraft to justify at least one spin. Knowing what aural atrocities Carrion Vael is capable of committing, I hope their next platter saunters in with a better production and more hooks to kill.

Rating: Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Unique Leader Records
Websites: Bandcamp²³ | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2026

The post Carrion Vael – Slay Utterly Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The same can’t be said for my backbone, after spending some quality time with Solus Ipse. These Spaniards still understand what it means to groove, and groove hard. While Solus Ipse certainly leans heavier into the metalcore side of Unexpectance’s sound, perhaps to its detriment especially in regards to the new higher register screams, Unexpectance still know their way around hooks, riffs, and momentum. Reeking of Orbit Culture restlessness, Aeternam-esque melodicism and verve, and embellished by ominous trem-picked leads—some of which, oddly enough, resemble those singled out refrains which made Unfathomable Ruination’s Finitude so compelling (“Hybris”)—Solus Ipse’s sycopated patterns and chunky stop-starts play companion to blistering barrages of double-bass-backed ballistics. Sealing the deal, and representing my favorite aspect of Unexpectance’s sound, the entire record is presented in Spanish, with nary a syllable of English to mar the experience. I may not understand what I’m hearing nearly as well (yet), but the effectiveness of Spanish’s cadence and character in this context is undeniable.

I also can’t deny Unexpectance’s ability to craft dynamic, crunchy, and satisfying tunes when all the pieces fall into place. Especially in the back half, Solus Ipse is a clinic in effervescent energy, crushing riffs, and rabid pacing (“Netamorpha,” “Ethos,” “Samsara,” and “Hybris”). In fact, I’d say these three attributes are Solus Ipse’s core strengths, as early highlights “Momji,” “Ataraxia,” and “Gnosis” successfully conjure the same neck-snapping momentum. Those early cuts communicate that momentum through more overt metalcore language, whereas the back end swings the pendulum a little closer to boisterous melodic death metal (“Empíreo”). Through it all, Unexpectance’s lead guitar steals the show, brilliantly weaving melodies in and out of bulky riffs and chuggy breakdowns as if they weren’t obstacles to evade, but rather partners to unite in a destructive dance (“Momji,” “Gnosis,” “Ethos,” “Hybris”).

Unexpectance’s ability to walk a tightrope between similar, but distinct, styles showcases their maturity and versatility as writers, but Solus Ipse as a whole isn’t as strong as previous efforts. The primary aspect that gets in my way of enjoying this entertaining back and forth more are, unfortunately, the vocals. I miss the greater dominance of deeper growls and mid-pitch roars that pervaded Vortex. While they feature here frequently, those higher-pitched screams—while admirably performed and brimming with piss and vinegar—feel not just more prevalent, but also much more monotonous, and thereby create a fair amount of drag. In other areas, Solus Ipse is a touch more repetitive and less cohesive, rhythmically speaking, compared to the never-ending cavalcade of twists and tempos that Vortex effortlessly wrangled. Most easily heard in opening duo, “Sophrosyne” and “Momji,” this kind of weak point forces the impression that I must choose between options to either keep or discard on future spins. I would much rather feel compelled to adopt every track.

Following up a contender like Vortex always posed a daunting proposition. Considering the various lineup changes and the 4-year gap between releases, what Solus Ipse accomplishes is admirable. Unexpectance remains an act to watch, as they routinely offer songwriting that either moves the needle for the style or holds great potential to do so with a little more massaging. A ton of great ideas populate Solus Ipse, but the overall product lacks the same consistent hype-worthy quality of the previous installment. Still, it’s worth checking out at least once, even if you aren’t necessarily a fan of the style.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self Released
Websites: unexpectance.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/unexpectance
Releases Worldwide: January 15th, 2026

The post Unexpectance – Solus Ipse appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Picture a generic Rogga record and you’ll get a good idea of how This Life is a Grave sounds. Dead Sun leans more melodic, along the lines of Rogga Johansson or Eye of Purgatory, yet this is stripped down, bare bones, no nonsense melodeath. It has a muscular feel with pummeling blast beats and powerful, heavy guitar tones reminiscent of Bolt Thrower. Despite the bite-sized songs, each in the three-minute range, the sound is huge thanks to the big production values. Each track features a distinct melodic lead as well as Rogga’s formidable growls. Pair this with the same formula across nine songs and, unfortunately, you have a recipe for some uninspired melodeath.

Dead Sun does nothing to mix up their sound across the record’s entire runtime, and Rogga is seemingly allergic to breaking things up with anything as simple as a quick guitar solo. On a casual listen, the songs blend into one another because there are so few standout moments to perk your ears up. One of these standouts is “Nighttime Butterfly.” It has a solid melodic riff and also the only catchy chorus on the record. It is pure Rogga poetry. He growls, “Nighttime butterfly / Your time has come to die / Nighttime butterfly / Now is not the time to ask why.” Using a butterfly as a metaphor for death is an inspired choice that should have our staff Reaper grinning ear to ear. Unless I’m misinterpreting the lyrics, and the one whose time to die is the nighttime butterfly. In which case, I do want to ask why. Joking aside, it’s a solid song and the one highlight amidst some very forgettable material.

This Life is a Grave makes for fine background listening. For those times you don’t really want to pay close attention to what’s playing in your ear pods but want something heavy and meaty blasting your eardrums, this’ll do. On occasion, the album rewards you with some decent melodies (“Embraced by the Succubus,” “Your Life is a Grave”) and energetic drum blasts courtesy of competent kit work from Thomas Ohlsson (House by the Cemetary, War Magic). The mid-tempo pace makes for good music to lift to, as songs rarely pick up or slow down the pace to throw off your rhythm. Dead Sun is consistent, if a little too consistent—it feels like Rogga’s just phoning it in. Where’s the inspiration, the creative spark that would allow the band to go off script or to at least play something that feels alive and not like it was just plugged into a formula and spit out?

It’s pretty sad that I’m ending 2025 by dishing out my lowest score of the year, and for an album that drops less than a week before Christmas no less. I can appreciate Rogga’s impulse to create, create, create because I also have that same impulse when I dive into something I enjoy. 2026 will likely see nine more Rogga projects—the man is a machine. For his sake, I hope he gets what he needs from this prolific musical output. For the sake of listeners, I hope next time he writes something more inspired than this.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Emanzipation Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

The post Dead Sun – This Life is a Grave Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Opener “Shimmering” suggests it can as you’re greeted by the expected cavalcade of opulent trilling leads with melancholic flourishes. Everything is highly polished and bright as the sun, with guitar and keyboards rising and swelling in melodic waves. The music reminds me of modern Insomnium and the mellower moments on Omnium Gatherum’s New World Shadows. Sébastien Pierre provides effective death metal roars that suit the music, and the pieces all fit together well. It’s not the best thing Enshine’s ever done, but it’s pretty damn good. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the opener is one of the most lively tracks on offer. “Heartbliss” has harsher vocals, but they’re wrapped up in a glossy pancake of airy, ethereal melodoom without much in the way of an actual “doom” component to ground things and provide real impact. Jari’s guitar work is ephemeral, stunning, and I could listen to it for days, but the song itself doesn’t stick in my memory. I enjoy it as it floats past, but cannot recall it thereafter. “Where the Sunrise is Felt” self-corrects, providing a beefier riffing foundation, and Sébastien sounds extra spicy here. You still get a deluge of ethereal noodling to float upon, but it’s balanced by some beef, and that makes a difference.

Just as things seem to be moving in the right direction, “Distant Glow” hits with 4 minutes of bright, sugar-coated synthwave devoid of vocals or the slightest edge. It’s moody but dull, and it derails the energy Elevation was beginning to establish. Around this point, it dawned on me that the album is something they could play at a new age spa without disrupting the tranquility or displacing anyone’s chakra. I suppose there’s a place for “spa-metal,” but not on my goddamn property. The remainder of Elevation is loaded with languid, lustrous melodoom with the emphasis on the melo part. I’m reminded of Omnium Gatherum and later era Anathema, and the ravishing sounds are omnipresent, but it’s often sleepy and overly restrained. Here and there, Sébastien or Jari lapses into a whispered delivery, and that choice sums up Elevation as well as anything: it’s dialed-back music designed to avoid any emotion beyond a sullen glaze-over. It’s gorgeous but without real peaks and valleys or much in the way of dramatic impact. Without memorable individual moments, it becomes too easy to lose focus while listening, and the music very quickly slips into the background. Not only does the material tend to sit in the back row of your attention, but the songs tend to bleed together into an ornate, noodly mush. Lovely but unmemorable.

I’m a huge fan of Jari Lindholm’s guitar work, and his brilliance is on display all over Elevation. He has a unique ability to craft such gorgeous and moody guitar lines and layer them in a way that generates a fog of emotion. While his talents are in force here, the end result is less immediate and dynamic than on past works. There’s no shortage of sumptuous leads and delicate solos, but the overall effect is too often lethargy rather than emotional pangs and pulses. A lot of Elevation simply washes over and past me without activating my memory circuits. Jari and Sébastien share vocals, and though Sébastien’s death roars are good, they don’t add as much pop to the material as they could. Sébastien also handles keyboards, and at times his playing becomes a touch cloying and even cheesy. Ultimately, I spend too much time waiting for Jari and/or Sébastien to go harder and provide more oomph to the proceedings, but they rarely do.

Elevation is a gorgeous listen, but there aren’t many songs that I recall once the album ends. It’s a worthwhile listen, and I doubt Enshine could make a bad album, but this really makes me want to spin Singularity or Origin instead. That’s a big bummer for me, and I hope your melo mileage varies. Now go find that Slumber album and learn!

Rating: 3.0/5.0¹
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: enshine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/enshine.band
Releases Worldwide: January 3rd, 2026

Maddog

I can’t overstate Enshine’s impact on my music taste. As a teen, I enjoyed melodic death metal, but struggled with the genre’s doomier acts. One day, I stumbled upon Enshine’s 2013 debut Origin. Having never heard of Jari Lindholm’s landmark band Slumber, I came in with few expectations. Eschewing the nondescript riffs that I had come to expect from doom, Origin captivated me with its creative melodies, gigantic climaxes, and synth-laced atmosphere. Most importantly, it brought tears to my eyes. Singularity followed suit in 2015, dragging slightly but hitting hard nonetheless. While Lindholm has released other albums via Exgenesis and his solo work in the interim, Elevation breaks a decade-long silence for Enshine. While it can’t match my first wide-eyed listen through Origin, Elevation is a worthy companion to a sorrowful night.

Enshine has always made every instrument count. Rather than fading into the background, Giannis Koskinas’ (Ocean of Grief) bass steals the show with lively lead melodies (“The Moment”). Conversely, on tracks like “Where the Sunrise Is Felt,” the rhythm section supplies a simple but hefty backbone to steer the song along. Sébastien Pierre’s keyboard is as active as ever, providing both center-stage melodies and a canvas for the other instruments. It’s remarkable how well this works; indeed, the key-heavy instrumental “Distant Glow” is one of Elevation’s most haunting cuts. Pierre and Lindholm’s vocals are unremarkable but get the job done, and the vocal lines are perfectly timed to accentuate the album’s peaks. Of course, while each of these pieces is compelling, Elevation’s guitars are a masterclass. Serving up huge Insomnium riffs, tear-jerking melodies, and minimalist interludes, Lindholm’s guitar work is varied but consistently impressive. Rounded out by a rich tone, Elevation is a full-blown sonic tapestry.

Enshine’s best work excels in both its climaxes and the journeys between them. Enshine’s riffs are more enormous than ever, with “The Purity of Emptiness” showcasing some pounding specimens. The rhythm section accentuates this riffwork like a thundering heartbeat. Elevation’s melodic peaks are just as lofty, and an explosive guitar solo makes the opener “Shimmering” an early contender for song of the year. As always, Enshine knows when and how to dial it back. For instance, the opening melody of “Heartbliss” serves as a serene counterpoint to the song’s beefier moments, while the closer “Reignite” relieves tension through its sparse midsection. While Elevation often flits masterfully between these extremes, it sometimes fizzles out. The aforementioned “Heartbliss” and “Reignite,” the two longest tracks, both spend their last few minutes in forgettable melodic ramblings. More generally, the album’s back half often settles into a neutral middle ground that neither excites nor calms. Elevation sometimes loses its footing, but most of its runtime is a dexterous volley between aggression and tranquility.

Accordingly, Elevation packs a powerful but inconsistent emotional punch. The most conventional source is the album’s soaring melodies, like those on “Shimmering.” But Enshine’s heart often hides in unlikely spots. “The Moment” hypnotizes the listener with a simple guitar riff, transmutes it into a tragic behemoth, and culminates in rhythmic repetition that evokes Cult of Luna. The key-driven “Distant Glow” remains the album’s most unlikely triumph. By rooting itself in one bittersweet melodic motif, “Distant Glow” evolves seamlessly from a chamomile-infused Infected Mushroom trance to punchy melodeath riffs. The result is a four-minute track that feels like a lifetime, in the best possible way. In contrast, parts of Elevation feel clinical. Songs like “The Purity of Emptiness” rely on interchangeable mid-paced riffs that fade from memory, and even stronger tracks fall into the same age-old trap (“Where the Sunrise Is Felt”). Enshine hasn’t lost their secret sauce, but they have diluted it.

But even more so than usual, I’m an unreliable narrator trapped in the tiniest of prisons. My twelve years with Enshine both paint and taint my perspective. So yes, “Reignite” is Enshine’s worst closer; but that’s because I remember the months I leaned on “Apex” and the friendship I strengthened with “Constellation.” And yes, Elevation sometimes gets lost in meandering riffs; but that sticks out because Origin is the pinnacle of concise melodeath-doom. Enshine’s former glory offers a convenient template for critiquing its follow-ups. In truth, Elevation is an enchanting release from a band that I’d feared would never return. Whether you’re an Enshine addict, a curious first-timer, or even a non-metalhead, Elevation demands and earns your attention.

Rating: 3.5/5.0²

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Ounas II is chock full of great songwriting. Melodic death metal, power metal, and even bits of black metal collide in this crazy Finnish kitchen, with Children of Bodom remaining the clear number one influence. Founding members Ville Rautio and Pasi Portaankorva utilize the dual guitar attack in classic ’80s ways (“Winter Visions,” “Twilight Stream”), while Stratovarius sensibilities color their frantic touches of melodic power—both always positives in my book. The harsh vocals of Tuomo Marttinen are frosty and vicious, similar to their swamp brethren in Kalmah.⁴ Tommi Neitola’s keyboards are the cherry on top, adding a Bodomesque symphonic bombast layer that occasionally approaches Wintersun levels without going overboard (“The Crowned King of Ancient Forest,” “1473 Ounas”).

Dealing with two-part concepts is always a challenging task, but Suotana came prepared. It feels like they’ve improved on all of Ounas I’s already strong qualities: the production has more breadth, the album’s layers delve deeper, and there’s more energy and variety in its songs (“Foreverland,” “Twilight Stream”). However, the most impressive thing about Ounas II is that it’s even denser than its sibling. The album clocks in at 39 minutes compared to the first part’s 41,⁵ which has the huge advantage of avoiding a bloated ‘B-sides’ feel so common with other double album concepts.⁶ And despite its tight runtime, the songwriting has plenty of room to flourish, as exemplified by “1473 Ounas.” Furthermore, to complement the Summoning cover that crowned the first part, Ounas II unleashes a cover of Children of Bodom’s “Hatebreeder” as its encore. Whether you imagine it as a proper track or a bonus, it’s a great way to end the record with a bang while honoring your influences.⁷

Suotana has had a long journey to get to this point, and it’s been more than worth it. Their songwriting is only getting faster and better, which further reinforces its catchy extremities. In many ways, Suotana feels like the melodeath-forward twin to Moonlight Sorcery’s excellent brand of power/black metal. Both bands dress to impress with big riffs, melodic violence, and keyboard bombast in all the right ways. Though the back-to-back experience is great, Ounas II is a package that works wonders on its lonesome too, and I think that’s another mark of success for the band. I’m excited to see what these self-aware wizards pictured above are going to summon from that lake next, Ounas or not.

Tracks to Check Out: “Winter Visions,” “Twilight Stream,” “The Crowned King of Ancient Forest,” and a special shout out to the excellent cover of “Hatebreeder.”

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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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Grabbing the reins to shepherd listeners to new frontiers of what melodic death metal can sound like, Aephanemer reemerges to show us the way to Utopie. Evolving the neoclassical components of platters past, Aephanemer fully realizes a stunning merger of melodeath and symphonic orchestrations.² On Utopie, the band crafts an experience that sounds like it was written with classical composition as its basis rather than as a reservoir of embellishments. Earlier albums comprised songs with classical ingredients, but on Utopie, Aephanemer sculpts a singular work with movements and motifs that unfold through its fifty-one-minute runtime, giving the album a degree of unity and cohesion that is sometimes sought yet rarely achieved in modern music.

Where Utopie’s soundscape exudes consonance, its composition is structured in two halves. The front bears quicker, sticky numbers while the back embraces longer-form, sweeping arrangements. “Contrepoint” appropriately serves as the intermediary between each half, though the track itself conforms to the fore’s characteristics. “Le Cimetière Marin,” “La Règle du Jeu,” and “Par-delà le Mur des Siècles” fashion an opening trio of gluey tunes that flow harmoniously into one another, surprising me with how quickly those fifteen minutes pass every time I listen. The final triad of tracks encompass half the album’s runtime and deliver the soaring majesty of epics while maintaining momentum. Throughout, Aephanemer’s galloping rhythms, arpeggiated leads, and bubbly tom rolls (plus intermittent flute trills and orchestral strings) sustain a vital energy, providing a pervasive sense of kinesis and grandeur. Martin Hamiche’s guitar tone is buoyant and silky,³ the perfect counterpoint to Marion Bascoul’s harsh rasps. Mickaël Bonnevialle underpins Aephanemer’s bombast with flurries of fills and rolls, always in support of the overarching sound while occasionally commanding well-deserved spotlight. Even as a three-piece, the band performs as tightly as ever.

Utopie is the sound of a band with a vision so crisp and vivid that all you need to do is close your eyes to be whisked away to paradise. Aephanemer oozes jubilance and confidence, harnessing the successes of previous albums and honing them to an eager edge, sallying forth with nary a concern for detractors. In a year where melodeath claimed two of 2025’s Records o’ the Month (Aversed and In Mourning), plus saw releases from Amorphis, Buried Realm, Mors Principium Est, and Vittra, Utopie claims the top spot of the genre in my humble (but accurate) estimation. Aephanemer in 2025 best embodies the spirit and triumph of what symphonic melodeath can do, mustering a celebration of undeniable charm and panache. Go forth and embrace bliss. Go to Utopie.

Tracks to Check Out: “Le Cimetiére Marin,” “Contrepoint,” “La Rivière Souterraine,” “Utopie (Partie II)”

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