Like how tabbies are genetically diverse but visually similar, Malefic’s many ingredients blend into a kind of extreme metal slurry on Impermanence, all present but difficult to identify individually. Sure, some riffs are more typically one thing than another, like the Testament-like thrash chops opening “In Darkest Dreams,” or the Dissectionesque blackened trems on “Blood of the Throne,” or the Opethian deathly grooves of “It Haunts.” But taken as a whole, Impermanence doesn’t lean towards one sub-genre over another. Instead, Malefic’s mutt-metal manifests into an off-kilter, volatile force of hostility, recalling heavily of the genre-blending approach Xoth take. Xoth are actually probably the best comparison to Malefic, as drummer Aaron Baumoel’s rasps and screams sound a lot like both of their vocal duo, and guitarists Jason Davila and Sam Williams’ solos follow the melodically rich, whammy-friendly stylings of Xoth (“Idiocracy”). Bolstered by a rhythm section of Baumoel and bassist Andy McGraw, who both know how to lay down some serious groove when needed (“Deserter”) and a dynamic mix, Impermanence shows that those years of honing their style have paid off for Malefic. It’s a good sound!

But what confuses me about Impermanence is that it feels aimless in many places, but not because Malefic can’t edit. To the contrary, every song on Impermanence is tight and focused, only running past five minutes on “It Haunts.”¹ Malefic also aren’t indulging in extraneous instrumentals or soloing, as songs like “Of Gods and Man” and “Disembodiment” showcase the band’s restraint within their buck-wild playing. The issue is that Impermanence doesn’t stick with an idea long enough. “Blood of the Throne” and “Obsidian Earth” have, like, five riffs in their first minutes or so each; instead of expounding upon a few ideas, Malefic often churns through ideas before they’ve settled into something sticky. This pattern especially stinks when they land on something great and don’t develop it, like the swinging, discordant riff in the second verse(?) of “Echoes of Silence” or the guitar runs opening “Obsidian Earth.” Impermanence sees a band on a mission, but maybe also a band in too much of a hurry.

What this amounts to is that Impermanence possesses a sound I can’t say I’ve heard before, but also, confusingly, one that’s somewhat indistinct from other extreme metal albums. Malefic’s aforementioned style-soup is so dense with expansive inspirations and somewhat progressive tendencies (“Disembodiment,” “It Haunts”) that, besides some serious Xothisms here and there, it adds up to something not exactly like the sum of all of their influences. But at the same time, Impermanence’s loose structuring and lack of purposeful repetition hampers Malefic’s ability to craft lasting hooks. By and large, most songs start with some fanfare, rage for three-to-four minutes straight while Malefic tear through riffs with reckless abandon like a more evil, more succinct Trivium and end with little resolution. It can be very exciting and enjoyable in the moment, but I’m left with little to remember Impermanence by the time it’s over.

But there is nothing wrong with a tabby cat,² and there’s nothing wrong with Malefic. They’ve carved out a great sound for themselves that more purposeful songwriting could harness into a truly hog-wild time. But where Impermanence excels in thrills, it lacks staying power, mostly in part to Malefic’s restless pursuit of riffs above all else. Fans of blackened thrash, blackened death, death thrash or bethrashened black death could do a lot worse than giving Impermanence a spin, but it’s probably not the genre-shaking game changer the band wanted. There’s always the sophomore album, however…

Rating: Mixed
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Terminus Hate City
Websites: maleficband.com | malefic.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MaleficBandATL
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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Unlike Soen’s cleaner approach to prog, Dyed in Grey is much rawer and rougher around the edges, utilizing plenty of off-key notes. There’s a greater sense of urgency and authenticity in this approach, and songs are carefully crafted to sound improvisational rather than intentional and overly polished. At times, Dyed in Grey plays it light and breezy, such as on the intro track “Sunbird” and the first few minutes of “Ascent,” where you could almost mistake them for a happy-go-lucky Weezer. At other times, they play a rough and tumble of ’90s grunge, with “Silent Symmetry” taking on an Alice in Chains-esque gruffness. Yet behind each arpeggio and light strum lurks an Opethian turn, which can rear its head suddenly with an eruption of heavy guitars and monstrous death growls. These turns prove an effectively cathartic release of emotion; “Mirrored Ruins” in particular takes a brilliant turn with some of the coolest riffs on Harbinger. While Opeth is a clear influence, Dyed in Grey take a novel enough approach to avoid being a mere clone.

Dyed in Grey cite jazz as one of their musical styles, and this is most apparent in the improvisational turns that songs take. Unlike Opeth’s more developed passages of death metal or prog, Dyed in Grey can flip on a dime. “Static Tides” best demonstrates this as it transitions from growls to cleans, arpeggios to blasting riffs, all within short spans of time. Similarly, “Descent” plays off-tune riffs one moment and a sudden melodic lead the next before erupting into death metal with some impressive technical fretwork. I don’t mean to make this sound like a random jumble of song parts. Harbinger still has enough structure for it to contain well-defined tracks. Riffs from the beginning of a tune return at the end (“Ascent,” “Silent Symmetry”) and catchier passages, such as the chorus of “Tempest,” repeat throughout the course of each song. The unpredictable nature of the music keeps you on your toes and provides new surprises with each spin.

As much as there is to enjoy, there’s plenty on Harbinger that makes it a confounding listen. The angular, sometimes atonal, music is certainly off-putting and proves an obstacle to appreciating Dyed in Grey’s strengths. The vocal performances, particularly the cleans, also leave something to be desired.¹ The cleans have a gruffer, grungier resonance that fits what Dyed in Grey is going for, but the vocalist struggles with his pitch at times. Despite the strong production values, another issue is that the death metal riffs sound flat and lack the muscular punch needed to truly make these portions pop. The growls, however, deliver enough power to offset this shortcoming. The rougher elements of the band’s sound fit in with their rugged character, yet there’s a fine line in the atonal approach between enjoyable and cringe-worthy music, and fortunately, Dyed in Grey fall on the enjoyable side more often than not.

What started off for me on initial spins as disappointing has since turned into something more interesting, rewarding, and even catchy with repeat and closer listens. Dyed in Grey don’t quite stand with the bands listed in my opening paragraph, but for fans of prog death, Harbinger is a worthy exploration. It also represents a growth in Edgemont’s songwriting. This proves to be a pretty cool amalgamation of styles that doesn’t play it safe yet feels assured in its performances and compositions.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Released
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

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Genre definition, of course, doesn’t matter in the face of potent music. On this iterative path toward simplicity—one carved first in large part by Lykaia’s jagged riffage over lockstep rhythm converging with Ekelöf’s growth as the focal point of all crescendos—Soen’s trajectory of snappy runtime, stadium-sized concoctions eschews definitive purity for incessant melody. Enlisting Tony Lindgren again on the board, Reliance mirrors the heavier guitar crunch from Memorial and cements itself with a dual-tone personality—one chunky, modern, a-djent-cent thump (“Discordia” in particular) and another bright, stadium harmonizing wail (“Mercenary,” “Axis,” “Unbound”). In both, Reliance wields immediacy and an ability to frame Ekelöf’s ascending runs in a package trimmed of distracting adornments. This does mean, unfortunately, that returning bassist Stefan Stenberg (last featured on Lotus) finds his spot in the roster less as a Tool-leaning jammer and more of a felt guitar-backing pulse.

Absent a warbling 4-stringer¹ in its svelte existence, Reliance lands self-similar at its heaviest moments, rendering these intensity climbs rather flat. To the seasoned Soen enjoyer, an air of familiarity surrounds the crawling bounce of “Mercenary” (or “Primal” or “Axis” or “Unbound” or “Draconian”).² With Ekelöf falling in greater rhythm with the kick-riff patterns that adorn Soen’s compositions, Reliance slides from start to finish with an unsettling ease, these familiar flickers creating a near sense of déjà vu. From the intro whammy dive that explodes against alternate-picked strut to the delicate and multi-tracked vocal harmony that closes “Draconian,” a collage of fist-pumping anthems and lighter-waving crooners flood and fade and only threaten to tether to memory in their low differentiation presentation. Closer “Vellichor,” in that sense, feels awkward in its throwback to a more progressive attack, despite its Floydian guitar weeping and sonorous background accompaniment. Yet its ability to stand out in this presentation, along with other slower tracks like the arena-booming “Huntress” or the ode to angsty heartbreak “Indifferent,” gives Reliance a fighting chance for replayability.

Soen presenting unmistakably as Soen, however, allows Reliance to take chances on lower density arrangements with highlight details that will reward those who do latch on to its vision. Ekelöf himself sits central to many of these diversifying blips, with seconds-long tricks like letting out the gruffest ough in Soen history (“Primal”), pulling higher grit power punches with subtle underlying harmonies (“Discordia”), and finding a goofy smirk in an extra poppy pitch-shifted vocal doubling (“Drifter”). All of these techniques, to those old and new in Soen fandom, spell the potential for differentiation and attachment in a playing field that may appear uniform at first. And, of course, Soen continues to lean on the blaring talents of lead guitarist Cody Ford, whose varied bluesy aplomb never fails to tickle the “classic big solo” part of my listening brain.

Reliance continues to try to paint Soen as a gritty rock band with enough heart and lush detail to carve a unique spot in the popular realm. Soen’s energy still remains in this pursuit, even if the peak tracks of this outing don’t swing as hard as I’d hoped. This sort of comfort, though, keeps Reliance from ever firing a dud, which is an accomplishment now seven albums in. And with warmer and more expressive production than a major act like Alter Bridge³, and with more energy than a related act like Katatonia, Soen exists in a middle-ground identity primed for being a bridge to a wide rock-loving audience, even if Reliance leaves me just to the side nodding in appreciation and curiosity to see who crosses over.

Rating: Good.
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Silver Lining Music
Websites: soenmusic.com | facebook.com/soenmusic
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2026

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Though it may present a bit hyperbolic to say that Poland’s black and death metal scenes trample those of many other countries, the tension of young fervor and tradition weighs heavy in the hearts of riffslingers with something to say. We don’t wish turmoil on anyone, but with great struggles often comes an urge for loud, clear, and calamitous expression. New to the scene, Tarnobrzeg’s Blindfolded steps forth with their debut full-length What Seeps through Threads, a culmination of deathly tactics learned and refined over the course of their six years as a band. Boasting a range of influences from the swinging low-end drama of Gojira to the tumultuous fretboard fire of Decapitated, Blindfolded has a vision for something new from paths well-loved in the listening community. The Rodeö, however, is unforgiving. But every now and then, something comes out of left field to spark our spurs with fascination. – Dolphin Whisperer

Blindfolded // What Seeps through Threads [July 1st, 2025]

Gardenstale: This year’s Dormant Ordeal is an easy lister in my books, so it should come as no surprise that a Rodeö candidate using a pretty similar sound with a proggy twist elicits a big FUCK YEAH from me. Blindfolded brings an ingenious, potent mixture of Polish death metal with winding, labyrinthine structures, plenty of melodic licks, and burly, Vader-esque vocals. No fear of getting lost in wank, these guys hijack the hippocampus and the frontal cortex alike. “Frenzy of Exultations” alone should provide you with enough neck-snappery to use your vertebrae for confetti. It’s one of those rare albums that manage to unite groove, melody, technical chops (including an excellent drummer!), and sheer blunt brutality. And though it starts strong, it only gets better as it rolls on, with “Gates of Janus” building to an unforgiving steamroller with a hypnotic Gojira-esque riff and what might be the solo of the year. Death metal shouldn’t be too polished, but apparently, it can never be too Polish.¹ 4.0/5.0

Dolphin Whisperer: One part ambitious song structure and one part ferocious death metal groove, the young Polish Blindfolded strikes a hook-loaded balance of Oldpethian grandeur and riff-aggressive PolDeath whiplash. And, as a culmination of this fusion, a churning atmosphere embodies the acoustic intros and amplified tear-aways that propel What Seeps through Threads across a generous and genre-honing fifty-some-odd minutes. While retaining a modern compression in guitar attack and drum composition that helps throttle knotty fretwork into headbanging ears (“Great Day of His Wrath,” “Uneasy Absence of Fair Judgement”), the nimble troupe finds expressive string jangle in the longform lurches, like expositional title track or closing hop of “Gates of Janus.” No matter how long any track extends here, with the stankface-loaded “Frenzy of Exultations” even pushing the ten-plus minute mark, Blindfolded retains a sense of smart riff development, coordinated phlegmy mic assault, and punchy rhythmic adornments that keeps What Seeps stepping ever closer to greatness. Blindfolded hardly sounds like an act whose deathscapades totaled a mere ten minutes before this full-length sweep. And with as weighty a sound as they’ve assembled, it’s only a matter of a little refinement in transition and spaciousness in sound capture that sees the young Poles going toe-to-toe with their celebrated countrymen and hyped deathmongers alike. 3.5/5.0

Alekhines Gun – What a debut! Forming in 2019, Blindfolded seek to make a serious impression in their first outing. What Seeps through Threads is a well-crafted release which manages to meld theatrical songwriting with a Blood Mantra-era Decapitated sense of frantic assault. Weaving Opeth song structures throughout, Blindfolded manage to shift from chug-riddled pain-bringing (“Aeonian Lie”) to the moody solos which lend pathos and dynamics in song structure. A spacious mix lets everything ring out, from bass warbles to Bartłomiej Fucia’s gruff vocals, which maintain an understandable intonation instead of leaning in on sheer brutality. Despite all of the songs being rather lengthy, (the shortest coming in at just shy of six minutes), a healthy ebb-and-flow throughout keeps riffs from repeating often or devolving into monotony. What Seeps through Threads nails the “album as a journey” aesthetic, rendering its near-hour-long runtime far shorter than it sounds. A keen sense of drama in the composition imbues each song with its own identity, while still serving the greater album narrative. I don’t know if this was a concept album or not, but if it isn’t, Blindfolded should certainly pursue such ideas as they have the talent and skill for a high-class of aural storytelling. In the meantime, come and enjoy a remarkably mature release from Poland’s newest offspring. 3.5/5.0

Thyme: When it comes to death metal, I’m like Lynyrd Skynryd, which is to say a “Simple Man.” Give me a heaping plate of meat ‘n’ taters death and I’m good to go, but that’s not to say I can’t enjoy a platter requiring a more refined palate. With debut album What Seeps through Threads, Blindfolded, and not that bunch guided sightlessly into the forest, offer a plate full of progressive death metal requiring me to dress nice, sit up straight, and know which is the fucking salad fork. Hailing from Poland, these five relative unknowns are poised to crash my impending end-of-year party with their Opeth-meets-Archspire brand of techened death. Kacper Wąsik and Marcel Kucharski present a shredding tour de force, showcasing myriad guitar skills comprised of massive, vicious riffs and a maelstrom of solo work that flows from the technically precise to the emotionally melancholy (“The Great Day of His Wrath,” “In The Eye of Maelstrom”) and, for some added spice, silky smooth jazz-guitar interludes (“Uneasy Absence of Fair Judgment”) that you won’t see coming but won’t kick out of bed. Bartloniej Fucia’s voice—a perfect blend of Mikael Åkerfeldt and Oliver Rae Aleron—complements the instrumentation, rounded out by Zygmunt Haliniarz’s bass and Kacper Rajfur’s stellar drumming. From the opening piano strains of “What Seeps through Threads” to the impeccable closer “Gates of Janus,” Blindfolded presents an album full of dramatic tension and incredible performances. Beautifully brutal, What Seeps through Threads was not on my 2025 bingo card, but it’s likely you’ll see Blindfolded’s name pop up again, at least for me, come list season. 4.0/5.0

Creeping Ivy: They may be a progressive death metal rookie, but on their debut, Poland’s Blindfolded shows the patience of a seasoned veteran. What Seeps Through Threads immediately commands attention with its blasty yet melodic chugging, recalling the work of its high profile country mates (Decapitated’s Organic Hallucinosis, Behemoth’s Evangelion). Vocalist Bartłomiej Fucia also creates urgency, overlaying the music with powerful, articulate gutturals. Blindfolded truly earns its spot on the team, however, by attending to album craft across the 53-minute runtime of What Seeps Through Threads. As a pseudo-overture, the title track hints at threads that will reemerge. Its haunting piano chords echo in the macabre guitar arpeggios of “In the Eyes of the Maelstrom.” Its flamenco-adjacent noodling foreshadows a fuller exploration of material akin to Atheist’s Elements on “Uneasy Absence of Fair Judgment” and “Frenzy of Exultations.” And its simple, almost doomy main riff reverberates in the monolithic monster that concludes “Gates of Janus.” As a whole, What Seeps Through Threads implies summits more than it scales them. The songcraft also isn’t perfect; Blindfolded occasionally hang onto a riff for too long (“The Great Day of His Wrath,” “Uneasy Absence…”). Nevertheless, this Polish fivesome has put together a cohesive, confident, and well produced rookie campaign. Blindfolded will definitely be higher in my lineup card for next season. 3.5/5.0

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The Descent of Mortals Past is a concept album focused on six mythological figures and their unfortunate adventures to the underworld. With themes based in the classics, and even some lyrics in Latin, it should be no surprise that Tempestuous Fall takes a classical approach to the music. “Theseus – Encased in the Stones of Hades” opens with some gorgeous, serene strings before adding on the usual funeral doom trappings of a heavy guitar and glacial pacing. You’ll also hear the melancholic tinkling of piano keys on songs like “Heracles – Dark is the Home of the Underworld,” showing off Pater’s versatility and ingenuity. It’s remarkable the way he melds these classical elements with doom guitars and growls to create lush, hooky funeral doom. “Psyche – Temptation of the Divine” goes all out, bringing in church organs, choral chants and hums, and operatic vocals from guest singer Alice Corvinus (Swords of Dis). This beautiful tune provides such an enticing melody you might follow it to the gates of Hades.

Of course, on the classics you don’t hear singers using demonic growls, but Tempestuous Fall might make them rethink that choice. Pater takes a My Dying Bride approach—alternating between low growls and cleans. He may not be as powerful as Aaron Stainthorpe, but he’s still effective. His growls contrast with the classical melodies and deliver the lyrics poetically, while his cleans provide memorable choruses that make you want to sing along. When the heavy guitars first join the strings on “Theseus…,” it’s a shock to the system like taking the polar plunge in nothing but your underpants. But they add a darkness and melancholy that’s fitting for doomed trips to the underworld. The production is a bit of a let-down, however, as the guitars take on a buzzy quality rather than the muscle of Evoken. Yet there is a charm to this raw, lo-fi quality that takes me back to the earlier Opeth records like Morningrise.

The back half of The Descent of Mortals Past has some unfortunate inconsistencies that keep it from matching the fantastic first half. None of these songs are bad, just different. The first is “Ulysses – Requiem of the Sea,” a doom cover of Mozart’s “Lacrimosa.” It’s a very cool track, but it also feels unoriginal, especially since it is among the most played classical tunes in modern pop culture—almost to the level of parody. Similarly, “Orpheus – In Dark Deathly Grey” is also quite good, but its focus on acoustics makes it sound more at home on a Dolven record than a symphonic funeral doom set. The finale, “Aeneas – Guide Me Home,” is a return to form that fits in much better with the front half. Like these earlier songs, it has strings, doom, and some melodic leads and cleans that end the LP on an uplifting note. Yet, being the longest tune at eleven minutes, it’s the only one that feels like it drags on due to too much repetition. Individually, the songs on the back half are solid and probably keep the record from sounding stale, yet they also break a spell the first half weaves.

While it doesn’t quite reach the level of last week’s Oromet, Tempestuous Fall has written another worthy platter of funeral doom for 2025. With how The Descent of Mortals Past sounds, it is understandable why Pater wanted to return to this funeral doom project after a thirteen-year hiatus. He has an ear for epic yarns, and his injection of doom adds gravity to the classics. I just hope that he doesn’t wait another thirteen years to release the next one.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

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The academic analogy suits Mongraf, given the background of its primary composer. Erik Aanonsen is polymathic; he serves as vocalist and guitarist, writes the music and lyrics, and even provides nykkelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle). Aanonsen also leverages his degree in film scoring as producer and recording engineer for Occultation.² With a keyboardist (Ingvill Trydal) and another fiddler in tow (Sunniva Molvær Ihlhaug), Monograf sculpt cinematic tracks that sound like a less droning Wyatt E. These songs weave serpentine riffs, atmospheric synths, and folky fiddling into a loud/quiet/loud tapestry. The fiddle melodies frequently take center stage, crescendoing into intense payoffs (“The Prophet,” “Cripplegate”). Despite being more compressed than a cinematic album should be, the production is delightfully organic, especially its crackling guitar tones. Essentially, Occultation scores its cover art: one can feel the heat rising in this druid-filled sonic desert.

Occultation explores a more metal subject than its post-rock predecessor, mostly with success. With album two, Monograf adds doom, progressive, and even extreme metal credentials to their CV.³ Aanonsen, second guitarist Martin Sivertsen, and bassist Hanna Sannes Aanonsen often begin songs with the droning simplicity of an Om-inspired riff that develops into complex noodling à la prog-era Opeth (“The Prophet,” “Occultation”). Drummer Erlend Markussen Kilane adds more complexity, roving between jazzy snare work, thundering tom hits, and scene-stealing fills (“Cripplegate,” “Carrion Seller”). Vocally, Aanonsen still delivers the ghostly cleans that dominate Nadir, but he adds a raspy shout to Occultation. For the most part, these harsh vocals create urgency that the music doesn’t quite call for. But occasionally, Monograf snags a catchy chorus out of Aanonsen’s shout (“Occultation”).

Monograf aptly structures Occultation as a whole, though the songwriting strategy grows repetitive. Occultation is a dyad; a mid-album breather (“Ashes”) divides halves comprised of two longer songs. “The Prophet” and “Cripplegate” kick things off with compelling call-and-response arrangements: the riffs call, the fiddle responds. “Ashes” is a welcome reprieve, smothering intimate acoustic chords and Aanonsen’s gorgeous cleans underneath drum flourishes that swell in volume. The track comes off, however, as a bit of an academic exercise. Once “Carrion Seller” kicks in, the listener realizes that the call-and-response song structure is something of a formula. Fortunately, closer “Occultation” varies the formula, feeling more like a slow burn than a riff/fiddle conversation.

Monograf should feel secure in their new, metal-adjacent specialization. Despite my criticism of Occultation’s repetitive songwriting, its 40-minute runtime invites repeat visitations of its alluring soundscape. Fans of drone and doom should especially take notice. While its folk-infused heaviness is not an intervention on par with the most recent Wyatt E. release, Occultation skillfully balances hypnotism and memorability in its riffwork. On monograph three, I suspect that Monograf will inch closer to the oasis in the desert that is the tenure track.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordic Mission
Websites: monograf.bandcamp.com/ | facebook.com/monografband | instagram.com/monografband
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

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Similar to The Reticent’s more recent output, the prevailing style of please is slick and smooth modern prog metal with occasional death and black metal tinges. Hathcock’s singing voice is as crisp and clear as ever, and he accentuates the emotional impact with well-placed growls and screams. The effortless melding of light and heavy frequently reminds me of Opeth’s The Last Will and Testament from last year. The key difference, however, is that The Reticent does not shy away from placing their inner demons on full display. This is best exemplified by the unexpected foray into dissonant death metal territory on “The Bed of Wasps (Those Consumed with Panic)”, which is unquestionably the heaviest material The Reticent has written to date (even more so than “Stage 5: The Nightmare” from The Oubliette).

The Reticent expertly employs many musical methods throughout please to reflect the myriad forms of mental illness. James Nelson’s and Paul McBride’s cascading guitar and bass lines in “The Night River (Those Who Can’t Rest),” along with Hathcock’s flowing tom rolls, are like the intricate web of thoughts that an insomniac’s mind might spin. The aforementioned dissonant flurry of “The Bed of Wasps (Those Consumed with Panic)” is the sonic equivalent of an anxiety attack, with constant time signature changes and tormented vocals. “The Riptide (Those Without Hope)” floats by at a despondent, languid pace, the singing soaked with depressive acceptance.¹ It’s ironic and heartbreaking that “The Chance (Those Who Let Go)” is the most hopeful and uplifting in tone, given that it’s about an individual resolved to suicide. The previously calm drumming becomes desperate and frantic at the very end before abruptly cutting off as if a trigger had been pulled.

Although please is musically as good or better than The Reticent’s usual standards, it’s impaired by a greater dependence on narration. “Diagnosis 1” and “Diagnosis 2” are irksome interruptions that take up five minutes in total, describing the symptoms of anxiety and major depressive disorder. I can see the justification for “Intake,” which briefly lays out some suicide statistics and leads into the first proper song, and “Discharge,” which reflects on the aftermath of suicide via a recording of a woman whose husband took his own life, but both tracks should have been shortened. To make matters worse, some of the proper songs contain their own narrative segments as well. please is at its most powerful when the simple yet piercing lyrics² are allowed to speak for themselves³ as opposed to shoehorning clinical informative tidbits.

please is not exactly a fun experience, but its message is an important one. It’s an unequivocal declaration that mental illness is very real, millions of people live with it, and many ultimately make the horrific choice not to. The Reticent does an excellent job of bringing this issue to life with thoughtfully crafted music. If the heavy-handed narrative elements had been pared back in exchange for one more quality song, the score below would easily have been half a point higher or more. Notwithstanding, please is a crucial reminder that we don’t know what unseen struggles others might experience. Always be kind; it can make all the difference.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Generation Prog Records
Websites: Bandcamp⁴ | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 13th, 2025

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While black metal comprises the bedrock of Thron’s core sound, it never burdens them with tired genre tropes. Since their 2017 debut, Thron has artfully constructed slow-burn builds into ferocious second-wave hostility, bestowing their albums with a distilled dynamism uncommon in a genre largely known for direct, unencumbered aesthetics. The sophisticated approach to songwriting creates music bursting with lush layers and ample replayability. Thron imbues their melodies with a plaintive ache that touches the coldest and deadest of hearts, and their prowess in evoking open, desolate atmospheres and interweaving them with blast beats and trem picking collides like Wayfarer and Necrophobic. Vurias picks up where Dust left off, taking elements that distinguished Thron and advancing them with an even bolder vision.

Though still unmistakably Thron, Vurias incorporates new components for an even broader sonic footprint. The most noticeable enhancements are the expanded synth presence, courtesy of guitarist PVIII, and the addition of saxophone.¹ Drummer and presumed cephalopod J (from Aard, Malphas, and Ghörnt, among others) pummels the skins with menacing single-mindedness (“A Paradox”) and exacting fills (“One Truth, One Light”), while also supplying texture with deft cymbal work (“Griefbearer”). PVIII’s and Ravendust’s guitars emote tones dulcet and cruel, painting profound soundscapes with dramatic depth. And though the axe-work is intricate, it’s rarely showy, making the solo from “Hubris’ Crown” a ripping good moment. Meanwhile, SXIII’s rumbling bass slinks near the bottom of the mix, unobtrusive yet complimenting the rest of the band (“The Metamorph’s Curse”). Through it all, Samca rasps with grating clarity, driving songs forward and commanding attention despite the whirling maelstrom of instrumental might. Thron excels at establishing an identity for each of Vurias’s tracks. From the Opethian retro synth in “Ungemach (Stilles Ende)” to the sultry sax swagger in “The Hunter and the Prey,” every song is punctuated with standout moments.

Vurias is a calculated slab of meloblack that thwarts the criticisms of albums past. Every instrument gleams with vibrance thanks to the balanced production and mix, which afford the requisite space for each part without drowning the others out. Besides Thron’s debut, this is their shortest album, clocking in at forty-seven minutes with nary a moment of bloat. I’ve listened through Vurias many times seeking gripes and derailers, and each time I come away compelled to appreciate it even more—to love it, even. The only thing holding Vurias back is that a couple of songs don’t reach the same exquisite heights as others. Rest assured, this is a minor quibble, as there are no bad or unessential songs. In fact, Thron has assembled a record that is more than the sum of its parts, boasting a streamlined cohesion that falls apart if the tracks are reordered or a select track is removed.²

It should come as no surprise to fans that Thron has written their best album yet, as every new record they release ascends to the top. Vurias, by the way, translates from Latin to English as ‘You Are Beautiful.’ The rationale behind the name is a mystery to me, but the album seethes with an inevitable beauty that transcends genre labels and deserves a spin from any fan of extreme metal. I’m dozens of listens in and continue to discover aspects I previously overlooked. That’s alright, though, because it reinforces the addictiveness that makes Vurias so accessible in the first place. In fact, I think I’ll spin it again.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Listenable Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: October 31st, 2025

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We won’t know the answer until this article gets published. And when it is, the statistics will be fabricated and obfuscated accordingly. So ignore the death toll and instead peep the haul!

Kenstrosity’s Meanest Meanies

Shadow of Intent // Imperium Delirium [June 12th, 2025 – Self-Release]

For over a decade, Connecticut/Rhode Island melodic deathcore independents Shadow of Intent challenged the standards of the genre by offering album after album of ripping tracks filled with drama, clever songwriting, and demolishing vocal talent. In their catalog, Elegy was the one record of theirs that didn’t stick with me. However, Imperium Delirium rapidly righted the ship with 55 minutes of opulent, evil, and crushing melodic destruction. Raging through its first half without a single misstep, Imperium Delirium is a focused effort chock full of devastating heft, buttery smooth songwriting, and a favorable riffs-to-breakdowns ratio. The back half focuses on drama and orchestration just a touch more, but songs like “Feeding the Meatgrinder,” “Vehement Draconian Vengeance,” and “No Matter the Cost” still bring the violence required to annihilate entire planets. Championing this unending assault of killer tunes, Ben Duerr’s vocal performance is intimidating to say the least, easily reinforcing his rightful place as one of the very best extreme vocalists in the scene today. Of course, the record is still too long by about 10 minutes, and a fair amount of that bloat comes from the slightly overblown self-titled closer. Additionally, while I appreciate the reverent nod to the instrumental talent on “Apocalypse Canvas,” I don’t believe it adds enough to the story of this record. Nonetheless, Imperium Delirium might be one of my favorite Shadows of Intent, and I look forward to where it leads me next.

ClarkKent’s Literary Listen

Nightbearer // Defiance [June 13, 2025 – Testimony Records]

Anyone looking for a mashup of Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy and Gothenburg melodeath, look no further than the latest album from Germany’s Nightbearer. Defiance marks album number three in the band’s repertoire, and a continuation of their worship of fantasy epics.¹ Right off the bat, the catchy harmonic guitar lead of “His Dark Materials” summons Dark Tranquillity and At the Gates. The guitar work by Dominik Hellmuth and Tristan Schubert is fantastic throughout–their creative melodies bring to mind lively outfits like Brymir. Michael Torka’s beastly growls and Manuel Lüke’s thunderous drumming add some brutality and weight to the harmonious riffs. A few songs even go full brutal death metal (“One Church Over All”, “Dying Knows No Bounds”). Perhaps the standout track comes from the 9-minute epic, “Ascension.” It starts with an eerie synth intro before breaking out into some of the best riffs on Defiance. Then, just as things settle down, the song builds back up and explodes into something straight from Blackwater Park-era Opeth. Overall, this is an impressive collection of songs that’s sure to scratch that HM-2 itch.

Tyme’s Juxtaposed Jotting

Lipoma // No Cure for the Sick [June 13th, 2025 – Gurgling Gore]

Melodic gore-grind. Yeah, it’s a thing. And California-based Lipoma’s new album, No Cure for the Sick, proves it’s a pretty fucking cool thing at that—the brainchild of one Max Pierce (aka Dr. Lipoma).² Since going live in 2021, Lipoma has been insanely active, releasing a slew of splits and EPs along with two full-length albums: 2022’s Horrors of Pathology and 2023’s Odes to Suffering. And while Lipoma has steadily worked to make comparisons with fellow purveyors like Carcass, Lymphatic Phlegm, and Pharmacist less relevant, No Cure for the Sick moves things to a different ballpark, one full of Gothenburgian melodicism (“Cult of the Firehealers,” “Glory to the Blade”), post-metallic pop-punk optimism (“Cardiac Scars Forever,” “Psalms of Psoriasis”), indecipherable gurgles, and organ, which is what sets Lipoma’s No Cure for the Sick apart not only from previous efforts, but the pack in general. From the circus-like atmosphere shrouding opener “The Sea Surgeon,” Pierce’s use of organ permeates much of No Cure for the Sick’s forty minutes, buoying the melodic heaviness and excellent solo work with jig-like danceability (“Remedies of Pagan Medicine,” “Last Anatomy of Johan Ziegler,” “No Cure for the Sick”). Pierce’s melodically charged instrumentation, when juxtaposed against his gore-ground gurglings—a combo that works in a way it has no right to—sees Lipoma doing something I find wholly unique, a rarity in today’s digital age. I have had a ton of fun with No Cure for the Sick, and if you’ve not checked it out yet, do so post haste.

Iceberg’s Frosty Forget-Me-Nots

Puppe Magnetik // Laudans Deum [June 6th, 2025 – The Circle Music]

Laudans Deum is not for the faint of heart, if that album cover didn’t quite convince you. The debut compilation of Puppe Magnetik, the record dives deep into the recesses of the human psyche. Aina Virtanen weaponizes industrial metal, ambient, and drone, wrapped up in the stylings of the Weimar Republic. An accomplished classically-trained musician, Virtanen uses her clean vocals sparingly (“Who Will Sing This Sorrow,” “Labyrinth”) but to great effect, reminiscent of Diablo Swing Orchestra. But the accessibility stops there; Laudans Deum’s thirteen tracks are comprised of ambient meditations (“Moritat”), ear-splitting electronic barrages (“Suspendium, Rosarium et Crucifixu”), and mood music fit for a throwback horror movie (“The Pregnant Nun,” “Patient AV”). But within the graveyard are scattered moments of respite; the gorgeously rendered classical guitar of “Timeless Serenade” and the haunting vocals of “Laments From The Desert.” While the album is unforgivingly through-composed, making for an exceptionally difficult first listen, there’s something darkly endearing about it. I’m reminded of Sergei Prokofiev, the Russian composer whose music was often described as both grotesque and starkly beautiful. Puppe Magnetik have produced a challenging record, but it’s worth a listen for those who enjoy avant-garde music and the stranger, more terrifying corners of the aural arts.

All Men Unto Me // Requiem [June 27th, 2025 – The Larvarium]

A little more metal, but a lot more challenging, All Men Unto Me’s Requiem brings to bear the full weight of spiritual suffering. Requiem is a direct interpretation of the Latin Mass for the Dead, it’s eight tracks playing all the hits. Fuzzed out, half-time doom takes a supporting role in a record that heavily features pipe organ, acoustic guitar, and string leads. Rylan Greaves takes a unique approach here, subverting the natural tension and release of the rite by injecting clanging noise into passages normally reverent. Their vocal performance is the unrepentant star of the show, at times crystalline (“Introit”) at others sobbing (“Kyrie”) straining (“Agnus Dei”) and howling (“Sequentia”). The album takes its time to sink its claws into you, with long track lengths and extended droning chords requiring patience. But pay close attention to Greaves’ lyrics and you can’t help but be pulled into the raw, emotional drama of Requiem. The rising, ethereal sunset of “In Paradisum,” the falsetto whisper speaking “God knows what I’d be without you” against an impossibly high, ever so slightly off-key bell-tone. One’s left wondering the true meaning of that line as the track ends, and the dead remain silent. A powerful statement indeed.

Mystikus Hugebeard’s Cybernetic Catalogue

NΞT-RUINΞR / / Prototype [June 6th, 2025 – Self-Release]

I am on a quest, dear reader. A quest to find the most perfect of unions between cyberpunk darkwave—I’m thinkin’ of Magnavolt or Daniel Deluxe—and metal music. This holy quest has led me to the UK’s NΞT-RUINΞR, and thus must I share it with you because their debut Prototype absolutely rules. As it turns out, this slab of cybersynth metalwave belongs to a genre I’ve long enjoyed but never knew had a name: Argent Metal. It’s derived from the modern Doom soundtrack: that kind of djenty, electronic-heavy industrial metal that makes you extremely eager to commit war crimes on demons from hell. Indeed, Prototype swings enough Argent weight around to knock some teeth loose, like in “…Lowlife” and “Supplicant.” But Prototype isn’t just “we have the Doom OST at home,” because NΞT-RUINΞR more vigorously incorporates the straightforward darkwave song structure onto the industrial metal soundscape. I wish more bands did this, because the result is so good. “Infiltrator” and “20XX” are absolute jams that infuse weighty guitars with the pulse-pounding beat of cyberwave synthdark. But the real winner is “Basilisk” where a cyberpunk build-up marches into a standard bass drop, only the bass drop is 20,000 tons of diabolical riff kept at a relentless tempo. Prototype is exciting, accessible, and loads of fun. It has also served as a wonderful gateway to tons of great music that I now have a name for, and I hope it does for you as well. For now, my quest continues; Prototype is thus far the closest to cyberpunk Nirvana I’ve reached, but my heart tells me more is out there.

Killjoy’s Fabulous Find

Fabula Rasa // Tome II: The Beyond [June 13th, 2025 – Self-Release]

The words “fabulous” and “fable” are interconnected, both derived from the Latin word “fabulosus.” And since folk music and power metal draw heavily from fables and myths, the portmanteau Fabula Rasa is a fitting name for a group that blends both genres. Following the lead of forebears Elvenking and early Mägo de Oz, this spirited crew from Düsseldorf, Germany, infuses what would otherwise be standard—but good!—heavy/power metal with lots of violin. The violin and guitar trade off playing the lead melodies, though the former tends to have greater emphasis. But fret not, shred-heads, for the guitar solos are also exemplary in the more power metal-leaning songs, like “Dragon Rising” and “Vengeance Is Mine.” The violin often carves its own folksy space, the cheery, zippy fiddling akin to Dalriada (“At Full Moon,” “Anthem of the North”). Most songs are energetic, but “Burning Innocence” is a pleasant surprise midway through the record, with hand drums and the other band members’ vocal contributions creating an intimate group setting. Don’t miss this charismatic performance from these fabulous musicians.

Maddog’s Sludgy Selection

Dimscûa // Dust Eater [June 3rd, 2025 – Self-Release]

While sludge is a dime a dozen, few bands scratch the same itch as Amenra’s best work. The UK’s Dimscûa aims to correct this oversight. Dust Eater opens with “Elder Bairn,” whose rhythmic riffs evoke the meditative power of LLNN. After this appetizer, the album’s interplay between brawn and heart rivals Amenra. While Dimscûa’s muscular riffs drive the album forward (“Existence/Futility”), Dust Eater stands out through its hypnotic melodies. The heartache in these melodies is palpable, magnified by tortured vocals that recall Julie Christmas. Because of this ebb and flow, the album never feels bloated despite its eight-minute average track length. For instance, “Existence/Futility” abandons and then suddenly resurrects its driving main riff, adding unexpected variety and lodging into my memory. Dust Eater’s climaxes sometimes fall short, like the fizzle-out ending of “The Dusteater.” But despite its imperfections, Dimscûa’s debut is a powerful outing in a neglected style.³

Dear Hollaback’s Ain’t No B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Various Artists // KPop Demon Hunters [Original Motion Picture Soundtrack] [June 20th, 2025 – Republic Records]⁴

Okay, look. Look. K-Pop is not metal, I get that. But the gang over at Sony concocted what just recently earned the title of Netflix’s most watched movie of all time, and holy shit, what a soundtrack.. I’d like to use the classic “my daughter made me do it” schtick but she only likes “Takedown.”⁵ KPop Demon Hunters creates insanely catchy pop music that’s also focused and intentional, a commentary on the rigid and flagellant nature of K-Pop alongside feel-good messages of self-acceptance and healing (“Golden,” “What It Sounds Like”). The focal girl group HUNTR/X does most of the heavy lifting, also tossing in enough pop culture-inclined battle hymns to make the republic jealous (“How It’s Done,” “Takedown”). Their on-screen rivals Saja Boys offer entendre-layered sugary pop (the infamous “Soda Pop”) and sinister Gregorian-influenced choruses (“Your Idol”). Beyond the novelty is intentionality: clever chord progressions that feel continually transcendent rather than stagnantly by-the-numbers (“What It Sounds Like”), diminuendos of authenticity among bombasts of a glossy sheen (“Golden”), touches of dissonance paired with unsettling slant rhymes (“Your Idol”), and rhythmic complexity building to ethereal climaxes of soaring belts (“Free”). While yes, I’m telling you to give it a spin, I am also giving excuses for why my review count dropped to critical this summer. Fuck off, I’m gonna be, gonna be golden.

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Generation of the Void finds Nailed to Obscurity further down the path of Opethic progressivism they established on Black Frost. Accomplished through a heightened emphasis on post-metal atmospheres, ear-forward synth-work, and Raimund Ennenga’s clean vocals, which vibe muchly with Ghost’s Tobias Forge, and occupy as much or more of the spotlight as his more compelling Mikael Åkerfeldtian growls. Jan-Ole Lamberti’s and Volker Dieken’s guitar work, albeit less deathly doomed, is full of effectively executed melodic solos, post-metallically strummed chords, cleanly picked leads, and Leprous-esque, prog-stuttery riff patterns (“Echo Attempt,” ” The Ides of Life”). Jann Hillrichs’ drumming continues to hold its own, sans overt technicality, by remaining chest-crushingly powerful, and alongside the work of newly added bassist Lutz Neemann, holds down a low end that adds depth to Nailed’s overall lighter, more reserved sound. Miles away from the deathlier King Delusion, the shift in direction Generation of the Void represents will be the fulcrum on which the remainder of Nailed to Obscurity’s career teeters.

While most of the decisions Nailed made didn’t resonate with me on Generation of the Void, the opening triptych of songs sets a very positive tone. A satisfying tug-of-war between heavy and light, “Liquid Mourning”‘s pensive chords and haunting leads marry well with Ennenga’s improved cleans, while the catchy, growled chorus roars over weighty death riffs. This track bookended well by the driving riffs, impassioned leads, and melodic solo of opener “Glass Bleeding” and the heavily melodic, death-doomy delight that is “Overcast,” which throws the longest shadow over the Nailed to Obscurity of olde by exclusively featuring Ennenga’s excellent growls. These three tracks serve as a red herring and a shepherd through Generation of the Void’s gate into realms I have dubbed Nailed to Obscurity lite.

While I appreciate Nailed to Obscurity’s attempt to push their own boundaries, the overly poppy, ‘Woooaaahhh-Ohhhh’ hooks of “Spirit Corrosion”‘s chorus signal a crack in Generation’s engageability, departing from the previously set stage. A tone that continues through the cleanly crooned title track to the overly bloated eight-plus-minute “Echo Attempt,” full of soft synths, Leprous-y riffs, and brief flirtation with growls, then onto Generation’s ballad “Allure,” with its Ghostly cleans, marshmallowy keys and delicately plucked chords. This section of Generation lulled me into a near-sleep state, finding me checking the clock, only to realize I had nearly fifteen of Generation’s fifty-five-minute runtime left to go. Luckily for me, “Clouded Frame” came crashing in to awaken me, the last real bright spot of the album. It’s moody riffs, impassioned cleans, brutally catchy growled choruses, and final, triumphantly roared scream rank as my favorite track.

There will be as many who bemoan Nailed in Obscurity’s newest direction as there will be those who applaud it. For me, mostly dogless in the fight outside of this writing, I can objectively gauge the quality inherent to Generation of the Void, despite my primarily subjective apathy. There are a handful of songs here that I will return to, but there’s more that I won’t worry about listening to again. What Nailed to Obscurity chooses to do on the heels of Generation of the Void will certainly bear hearing, and I’ll be interested enough to keep my ears peeled.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: September 5th, 2025

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