On Hiraeth, Abstracted demonstrates a thorough understanding of contemporary progressive metal styles and integrates them into something all their own. The band’s main sound is a djent-fueled take on modern progressive death metal, closest to early-era The Contortionist in its blending of odd-meter riffery, post-rock-influenced textures, and an enticing contrast between melancholic space-age cleans and technical 6-string chugs. Abstracted balance this with more traditional Haken-esque classic prog turnarounds and jazz breaks (“Sirens”), fast-paced Between the Buried and Me riff marathons (“To Quench This Insatiable Thirst”), and harmonic nuance within darker moments à la Persefone (“Requiem”). The result is a varied and dynamic set of tunes that glide effortlessly between impressive riff-fueled aggression and cathartic melodies. Songs like “The Utter End” and “The Barren Grave of God” demonstrate the band’s ability to naturally move from strength to strength without missing a beat, unfolding across expansive guitar arpeggios, delightfully off-kilter breakdowns, virtuosic solos, and powerful musical climaxes.

This level of fluidity and genre cohesion on Hiraeth is only made possible by the high level of musicianship Abstracted display. Guitarists José Consani and Leonardo Brito give varied performances that successfully meld more djent-centric playing with classic death metal sensibilities and demonstrate keen melodic ears with dense jazz chords and powerful lead lines. Drummer Fernando Pollen blends Latin grooves with acrobatic modern metal flourishes, and the production’s more natural drum tone allows his dynamic nuances to guide several songs. ² On bass, Riverton Alves turns in a thoroughly warm and jazz-based, Cynic-flavored performance that shines during quieter moments, while keyboardist Carol Lynn supplies plenty of atmosphere through subtle synth textures and steps to the forefront a few times with quirky, but effective synth lines reminiscent of Diego Tejeida. Together, this ensemble breathes plenty of life into a style of music that can often feel over-processed, and their performances help to unify this collection of songs into a cohesive whole.The only elements of Hiraeth that aren’t immediately impressive are the vocals and the production. Rosano Pedro Matiussi delivers an impassioned performance, and his vocal lines often fit the songs well, but his clean singing lacks a certain impact or personality to elevate good moments into great ones. Initially, this was enough to deter me from really digging deeper and appreciating the songcraft on display, but the singing grew on me quite a bit with time. Similarly, his death growls are solid, if not one-note, and they feel like they exist more so to fill a role than to accent particular sections. This could potentially be the production’s fault, as Hiraeth sounds generally good and more natural than the swaths of overproduced modern prog ³ but lacks a certain sonic clarity, occasionally making especially dense sections harder to parse. There’s a distinct lack of reverb on the harsh vocals, and I can’t help but wonder if a stronger mix could fit the layered clean singing a bit better. Matiussi’s vocals are far from bad, and there are parts like the somber intro to “Requiem” where he sounds great, but when everything else is operating at such a high level, they feel like a weak link.

With Hiraeth, Abstracted have delivered an impressive piece of modern progressive metal. This record is a grower for sure, with dense and layered compositions often revealing their clever construction and intense interconnectedness only after repeated spins. Even if the vocals leave a little to be desired, the Brazilian group has successfully combined the sounds of several of the best modern prog bands into something exciting and nuanced.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: abstractedmetal.bandcamp | facebook.com/abstractedbr
Releases Worldwide: February 20, 2026

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An undertaking like Overspace & Supertime demands top-notch performances to survive: Cryptic Shift couldn’t have done much better. Keeping true to the mix of Atheistic death, Vektorian thrash, and King Crimsonian progressive sensibilities that made the debut a knockout, Cryptic Shift have opened another wormhole of technical death/thrash immensity. But if you’re imagining Visitations II: Eldritch Boogaloo, stop. Overspace takes what made Visitations great and kicks it into warp speed. The guitar duo of Xander Bradley and Joss Farrington (Cryptworm)² tear through an embarrassment of mind-bending, neck-breaking riffs across Overspace, bending across their whole fretboards, soloing on “Stratocumulus Evergaol” and putting their entire asses behind the chugged-up “Hyperspace Topography.” Drummer Ryan Sheperson pummels his kit in time I can only guess at on “Overspace & Supertime” while bassist John Riley fretlessly glides over “Cryogenically Frozen” into solos traded off between the guitars, amounting to a finessed, yet relentless attack. Topped off with Bradley’s cavernous bellows, Overspace & Supertime is a tour de force of musical expertise.

What carries Cryptic Shift’s longform songwriting is that their music is always in flux. Whenever the band seems lost in their own prog-sauce—like in the effect-heavy openings of “Hexagonal Eyes (Diverity Trepaphymphasyzm)” and “Cryogenically Frozen”—they always swing back with a bruiser riff that helps keep Overspace more approachable than it ought to be. Like on Visitations, Cryptic Shift employ clean guitar passages and eerie atmospheres to outline the heavy bits. But on Overspace, they are woven smoothly into the distorted parts to create dynamic passages, like the shimmering clean strums between monstrous death hits on “Stratocumulus Evergaol” or the blackened surf-rock tremolos of “Hyperspace Topography.” But Cryptic Shift’s greatest dynamic on Overspace is that of light vs. dark. While their debut was a pitch-black exploration of space-born horrors, Overspace injects a healthy dosage of awe into their mix, including strangely bright conclusions to “Cryogenically Frozen” and “Overspace & Supertime” and a passage at ~16 minutes into “Stratocumulus Evergaol” that’s so boppy that it could pass for Rise Against. It’s in the name: Cryptic Shift change in some strange ways over the course of Overspace & Supertime, and I’m here for it.

And this leads me to the true wonder of Overspace & Supertime and where its immensity is most benefited: the beauty of the off-kilter. This is an album of purely aggressive, dissonant, esoteric, and oddly-timed stuff; Cryptic Shift made no obvious move, and they’re clearly not gunning for radio play. So why is it so beautiful? Solos that effortlessly slide from Slayer-like chromatic bullshittery into soaring melodicism. Patient ambiances both tranquil and unsettling, belligerent thrashing as exhilarating as it is hostile. The brilliant production best described by Dolphin Whisperer as “tone porn,” where all cleans are crystalline, and everything dirty is disgusting. How easy it is to fall under Cryptic Shift’s spell and let the freeform journey take you on its many twists and turns. The fact that Overspace & Supertime gets weird and takes its precious time doing so allows the listener to immerse themselves in Cryptic Shift’s world, making for a simply sublime experience.

In retrospect, Visitations from Enceladus feels like Cryptic Shift’s proof-of-concept for Overspace & Supertime. Yes, this is an exhausting record. Trying to catch everything on it during your first listen could make you go blind. Maybe 80 minutes is too damn long. But Overspace & Supertime is a better record than my wildest expectations, six years in the making, ever dreamed up. Like Frank Zappa at his best, Cryptic Shift on Overspace left me frequently confused, sometimes just plain tickled, but never unmoved before their showcase of the bizarre and the otherwordly. In the stranger aeons Cryptic Shift occupy, anything has happened.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps MP3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: cryptic-shift.bandcamp | facebook.com/crypticshift
Releases Worldwide: February 27, 2026

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

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

Kenstrosity’s Knightly Nightmare

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

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

ClarkKent’s Sonic Symphonics

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

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

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

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

Grin Reaper’s Frozen Feast

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus Spoke’s Random Revelations

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

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

Owlswald’s Holiday Scraps

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

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

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And progressive it is! Though perhaps the band would disagree with me—they describe their sound as being “rooted in Postpunk, Postrock, Artcore, Progressive Metal, Pop and classical music.” It’s an interesting blend with a couple of notable outliers, but frankly, that’s how I like my music. Lead vocalist and guitarist Nils Wittrock’s style could fit fairly well in most of those styles, a clean, somber croon with a hardcore edge—or vice versa, depending on the song. Bassist Ilja John Lappin lends his cello to proceedings, giving Der Brauch a symphonic, classical side that softens its otherwise loud approach. This, in turn, forces drummer Moritz Schmidt to be something of a chameleon, adapting to each of the aforementioned styles as songs demand. The result is a loud, hardcore-ish sound rooted in progressive metal that is nevertheless “nice” to listen to.

…or so it may appear at first glance. Truer is that Der Brauch is very much a multifaceted album and The Hirsch Effekt have a lot of tricks up their sleeves. Songs like “Das Seil” lean into their art/classical stylings, with lengthy, complex guitar noodling and cello support. It builds to a dramatic metal flourish and demonstrates much skill from each musician. Elsewhere, “Der Doppelgägner” features notably more intense guitar work, leaning towards the more extreme side of progressive metal. “Die Brücke,” on the other hand, is slow and dream-like, reminding me of Dawnwalker in the way it covers a lot of ground, seemingly in no rush to do so. Lastly, “Das Nachsehen” treads symphonic metal territory, using the cello as a lead instrument and building a genuinely dramatic sound. Throughout, the three bandmates, all of them vocalists, sing, growl, and scream their way through each style as needed.

So there’s a lot happening here; The Hirsch Effekt is a dodecahedron of ideas on Der Brauch, something you may see as a strength or weakness depending on your preferences. I could argue, for example, that Der Brauch doesn’t have very strong flow as a complete album because the sound is constantly changing. You might return that the sound they cultivate is unmistakably theirs, and so it really isn’t that big a deal. For my part, I like their melodic leanings the best—the dramatic “Das Nachsehen” and surprisingly catchy “Der Brauch” in particular, with their huge choruses and passionate performances. By contrast, the longer, more wandering pieces like “Die Lüge” don’t land so well, and as a resul,t I find Der Brauch lags a little in the middle. I wouldn’t have minded if it were a bit less than its 49-minute runtime, despite the impressive array of ideas contained therein.

But all that is me. Really, The Hirsch Effekt has enough ideas and styles that it’s a hard album to put a number or description on. I’ve certainly enjoyed it, and will likely return to it after this review is published. But I think a lot of people will have varied experiences with Der Brauch (more so than the average album, I mean). It’s a fascinating listen, one that reveals more and more with every spin; strong, explorative, and motivated for sure.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Long Branch Records
Websites: thehirscheffekt.bandcamp.com | thehirscheffekt.de | facebook.com/thehirscheffekt
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 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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Course of Fate are still very much Course of Fate, though the sound I remember from Mindweaver has morphed into something altogether more aggressive and impactful. Kenneth Henriksen and Fredrik Jacobsen’s guitars are louder and rougher around the edges, and bass by Torstein Guttormsen is fully audible through most of Behind the Eclipse. Their core sound—a heavy backdrop supported by lush drumming (Per-Morten Bergseth) and memorable, just-melodic-enough riffs counterbalanced by Eivind Gunnesen’s smooth singing—is still there, but even the singing is more aggressive than I remember, with the odd growl thrown in for good measure. There is a sense of care to the songwriting, evident in the quiet keys and strings, and the storytelling in the lyrics to songs like “Behind the Eclipse,” the titanic opener¹ with an epic chorus and huge resolution that gets stuck in your head for days after you hear it.

There’s a sense of melancholic anger throughout Behind the Eclipse; Course of Fate are very much at home in frustration and sorrow, though their compositions are as lively as ever. “Acolyte,” for example, opens with a quiet piano lead that builds to an aggressive, almost thrashy riff. Gunnesen is loud here, fitting in so well with the music, right up to the chorus—then things slow. The piano returns, and his performance turns introspective. Then, as soon as it’s over, Course of Fate is back to its fiery self. The balance is impressive and shows up again throughout. Closer “Neverwhere” is another classic Course of Fate exploration, a song that builds and builds from bitter reflections to soaring interludes to its massive chorus and beyond. As with Mindweaver, there is an emotive core to Behind the Eclipse that gives it genuine staying power (and once again, the ballad is one of the best songs, this time in the form of “Don’t Close Your Eyes”).

There are only a few moments throughout Behind the Eclipse where the aforementioned balance of aggression and melancholy doesn’t quite come together, and in these moments, it becomes “merely” good metal. “Sky Is Falling” is a fine song, but it comes in a little strong for my tastes, while “Hiding from the Light” takes a slower, less immediate approach that initially had me wondering if Course of Fate didn’t have some metalcore influences. It isn’t metalcore—I can’t stress that enough—but the balance isn’t quite there, at least not to my ears. With that said, the solo guitar work in “Sky Is Falling” is one of the coolest moments on Behind the Eclipse, and I love the use of growls in “Hiding from the Light.” Every song has something going for it, and this is in large part due to the fact that Course of Fate are strong performers and great songwriters. As a bonus, eight tracks spanning forty-five minutes make it hard to lose interest at any point.

So I’d say Course of Fate have done it again—they’ve kick-started my year with an impressive showing of progressive metal that I expect to come back to often as the year goes on. Behind the Eclipse is a well-written, cathartic, and empowering album that is fun to listen to. I could argue it’s a little uneven, but it never dips below “good” and often reaches “great.” It seems that Course of Fate are finding their groove—not to mention a consistent release schedule—and I couldn’t be happier for it.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Roar! Rock of Angels Records
Websites: facebook.com/courseoffate
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

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Ferrum Sidereum is a record that revels in texture and rhythm more so than melody. Like ObZen-era Meshuggah, ZU play melodically bare but rhythmically exquisite riffs, with their prog and metal elements manifesting into bouncy, syncopated djent jabs prominent on tracks like “Golgotha” and “Kether.” Guitars are low (“Ferrum Sidereum”), bass is plucked with abandon (“Charagma”), and drums roll with jazz-practiced precision and metal aggression (“La Donna Vestita Di Sole”). Industrial elements and saxophone conspire to either inject a sense of progression to simple riffs (“Hymn of the Pearl”) or, more often than not, tear your ears a new one with punkish, dissonant whines and whistles (“Fuoco Saturnio”). ZU bounce between these loud, crunched moments with Tool-like passages of meditative, methodical calm and repetition with a hodgepodge of percussive additions to fill out space (“Pleroma”). You likely won’t be able to hum anything off Ferrum Sidereum by the end, but it’s undeniable that ZU are very particular about sounding a very particular way.

ZU have the chops to carry the load of a double album, but Ferrum Sidereum unfortunately doesn’t have the substance to fill one. To achieve a sense of spiritual ritualism, ZU obviously had to rely on repetition within songs, but it quickly just gets excessive and bland. Differences between songs—like “AI Hive Mind” and its distinct, mathcore level of scronk in its guitar tone and saxophone or “Golgotha” and its use of ghostly choir to build unnerving atmospheres—get lost in the flood of crushed djenting that better defines Ferrum Sidereum. ZU stick to such a strict palette that following along to the album as a whole becomes tedious, and the lack of melodic leads or even just a singer make Ferrum Sidereum easy to drift away from mentally. Eighty minutes and no hook is a big ask for any listener. Ferrum Sidereum’s uniform construction does lend it a sense of unity, and ZU’s expert musicianship and occasional atmospheres do make the record a good background listen, but for the purpose of intentional, critical listening, it leaves much to be desired.

This is deeply disappointing to me, because Ferrum Sidereum can at times be simply transcendent. When it comes to shaping otherworldly and religious atmospheres, when ZU get it right, they get it right. “La Donna Vestita Di Sole” feels like a festival from another planet with its twisty sax riff, while the conclusion to the closing title track uses the dichotomy of furious palm-muted riffing and complete silence to make an ending both meditative and succinct. The one-two punch of “The Celestial Bull and the White Lady” and “Hymn of the Pearl” sees ZU at their most sublime, awash with delayed clean guitars and tribal drumming derived from the same sacred geometry as Lateralus, both stirring and refreshing to the mind and soul. There’s great material on Ferrum Sidereum, songs so good I can see clearly the greatness that ZU see in it, but material buried under about as much runtime of bloat as well.

I know there’s a world where Ferrum Sidereum clicks with me, but here and now it doesn’t. ZU are wildly talented musicians, and I know there are fans of instrumental metal who will gobble this up, but for me too much of what makes Ferrum Sidereum enthralling (its rich atmosphere and contemplative nature) is sidelined by what makes it boring (djent). “Hymn of the Pearl” may make a reappearance in December for SotY contention, but I think I’ve gotten enough of ZU’s latest as a whole. But I’ll keep an eye out for falling rocks, regardless.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: House of Mythology
Websites: zuhom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/vajrazu | zuism.net
Releases Worldwide: January 9th, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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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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Sixteen songs, sixteen different Socratic dialogues transposed into music. The Trial of Socrates is undeniably high-concept, but Thumos expertly keeps the listener engaged with immediate, yet endlessly thoughtful songcraft. The Trial is full of massive, memorable riffs that hide tons of depth in their execution. “The Parmenides” is a damn strong opener that sets a pensive tone with wistful guitar notes, before leading into a heavy riff that’s carried by a crystalline, piercing guitar melody. The Trial doesn’t typically adhere to traditional song structure, but songs are far from aimless. Oftentimes a single theme will be explored with chorus-adjacent repetition even as various ideas or riffs are added and iterated upon, like in the excellent “The Gorgias,” while other songs take a more progressive approach like the epic “The Apology.” These structures give the songs a conversational cadence, as themes are explored and interrogated with a Socratic thoroughness.

Perhaps Thumos’ greatest achievement here is how they maintain a vital pace across The Trial’s long runtime. Someone more versed than I in Socratic philosophy might be able to recognize something approaching a narrative or chronology across The Trial, but even lacking context, the music alone compensates with excellent pacing and variety. The songs across The Trial shift across a healthy spectrum of fast and heavy (“The Thaeatetus,” “The Philebus”), pointed melody-driven drama (“The Parmenides,” The Apology”) or grand pathos (“The Sophist,” “The Phædo”). Even as individual songs can be lengthy, they’re always followed by something new, up until you reach the sublime end. The climax of “The Phædo” is a resplendent, tragic outpour of emotion that strips away any need for context with sheer force, ushering the end of The Trial in “The Menexenus,” a nigh funeral dirge.

The Trial of Socrates is exactly the kind of metal I love: something that excels in both passive and active listening. The adherence to its source material and striking imagery pokes and prods at your curiosity, encouraging you to wander the labyrinth with the deepest focus, even as the post-doom riff work provides a comfortable space to rest in and bask in the diverse, stellar musicianship. Yeah, it’s long as hell, but to be frank, I grow tired of feeling like I must apologize for The Trial’s runtime, sheepishly imploring you to listen despite it. Thumos has a lot to express about their choice of inspiration, and there is little, if anything, I might suggest be removed. The Trial of Socrates is an intelligent and captivating piece, one that is worth your time.

Tracks to Check Out: ”The Parmenides,” “The Protagoras,” “The Gorgias,” “The Sophist,” “The Phædo”

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