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

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The equation above is AMG’s freakishly rigid and completely objective algorithm for scoring albums and determining quality. We incorporate statistics and abstract algebra, which I understand are very complicated mathses, in order to get you the highest quality extreme music this side of the Hudson or Atlantic or Yangtze or wherever the hell you are. The trouble is, you bastards don’t listen to math (i.e. “hurr durr, Wilderun is so much better than this shit.”). So I listen to math because I’m a contributing citizen and patriot – I listen to mathcore for you. I wade through the cesspools of skronk and sass – RYM and Reddit – for the best of the best. I do it for the, like, three of you who dig it and the, like, eight billion of you who yell at teens to turn it off before shuffling back inside for a bowl of Great Grains. What I do is super mathematical, so you know it’s mega serious. Mathcore is about as unlistenable and scathing as it is a total sellout – so you can offend nearly everyone who hears it. Random rhythms, migraine-inducing tempo shifts, painful squeals, no sense of melody or counting, vocals a la cheese grater to the throat – it’s skronk. So enjoy my bounties, you three. The rest of you can fuck right off.

Commence panic chords!!

Deadguy // Near-Death Travel Services – While the mathcore world is deeply indebted to the likes of Converge, The Dillinger Escape Plan, and Botch, New Jersey’s Deadguy is your favorite mathcore band’s favorite mathcore band, and Near-Death Travel Services picks up right where 1995 stylistic landmark Fixation on a Coworker left off. It feels like a throwback to the 90’s, a rough and raw edge and bass-heavy thickness adding to the chaotic hardcore attack, desperate and vicious rhythms (“Kill Fee,” “Barn Burner”) as well as dwelling in the simmering cacophonies (“The Forever People,” “All Stick and No Carrot”). Near-Death Travel Services is a hardcore anthem at heart, with the madness of mathcore’s earliest innovators – it’s a return to form for Deadguy as if thirty years of silence never happened.

The Callous Daoboys // I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven – Everyone loves The Callous Daoboys. If you don’t fuck wit’ Carson Pace, Jackie Buckalew, and company, fuck right off. Compared to its sassy catalog, I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven is much more aggressive and in-your-face. The collective still embraces the wonky jazz- and flamenco-influenced movements and clean vocals (“Tears on Lambo Leather,” “Body Horror for Birds”), 2025 finding more of a traditional emo influence than ever (“Lemon,” “Two-Headed Trout”), the real meat of this album is a kick in the teeth, with a nearly deathcore heaviness assaulting the ears with blistering intensity (“Schizophrenic Legacy,” “III. Country Song in Reverse”). I Don’t Want to See You… feels like pure weaponization, yet it’s undeniably The Callous Daoboys in the best ways.

Pupil Slicer // Fleshwork – Something was missing in Pupil Slicer’s 2023 album Blossom. Whether it be the vulnerable alt-rock influence or more experimental songwriting, it felt like a distinct step down from the mechanical mathgrind insanity of Mirrors. Fleshwork fills that missing piece. Vocalist/guitarist Kate Davies and company, including new bassist Luke Booth, balance the surgical with the accessible through a thick haze of noise rock atmosphere and warm rumbling bass, tracks achieving a striking warmth and disorienting psychedelia through more subdued techniques (“Fleshwork,” “Nomad,” “Cenote”) and a savage blistering saturation in others (“Gordian,” “Black Scrawl”). It’s a simple trick to balance industrial precision with noisy warmth but it pays dividends for the London trio: Pupil Slicer releases its best album yet.

Kaonashi // I Want to Go Home. – TikTok mathcore feels oxymoronic, but Philly’s Kaonashi gained more traction on the platform than any other band of the same ilk.¹ Gaining notoriety from Peter Rono’s controversial vocals – more howl than scream – the act injects a far more prominent dose of post-hardcore, punk, and emo into its story-driven approach. Mathcore’s stinging panic chords and off-kilter arrhythmic chugs are present, but given the vocals and lyrical focuses on mental health, childhood traumas, and relationships, it’s a controversial act to begin with, having more in common in melody and theme with Midwest emo or City of Caterpillar-esque screamo. I Want to Go Home. is a jagged, inspiring, awkward, powerful, and overlong product of a truly unique act with a divisive style.

Theophonos // Allegheny Rains – The man behind the concluded Serpent Column project, Detroit’s Jimmy Hamzey, fuses a scathingly dissonant black metal attack reminiscent of Ceremony of Silence with the hardcore attitude and jagged rhythms of Converge, resulting in a more chaotic, mathier Plebeian Grandstand. Allegheny Rains, his third full-length, continues the distinctly American industrialist soundscape established in Ashes in the Huron River, combining the all-out assaults of pitch-black chaos with whirlwinds of panic chords and pick sweeps (“Death in the Current Year,” “Gray Shovels”) to punky hardcore romps (“When the Future Arrived,” “Fragility of Spring”), and ominous crawls through densely dark textures (“The Fulcrum,” “Edelweiss, My Love”). AI art aside, Allegheny Rains is a dark blaster that serves to get the avant-garde black metal fans some rhythmic chaos and to compel mathcore fans to get some culture for once.

fallfiftyfeet // Counterfeit Recollections – fallfiftyfeet is all about variety. Establishing their sound quietly through a debut full-length four years ago and scattered splits, the West Virginia trio’s foundation of metalcore – yes, the sellout kind – is built upon by post-hardcore vocals, screamo grinds, and mathcore’s warped melodics. Featuring crushing breakdowns and poppy choruses that feel straight outta Hot Topic in 2009 (“Counterfeit Recollections,” “Best Revenge”), ominous clashes of the brutal chugs and dissonant melodics (“Disarrangement,” “Phantom Growing Pains”), and mathy beatdowns (“The Kingsport Curse,” “Horror Tropes”). What’s notable is that fallfiftyfeet doesn’t necessarily fall into the late-2000s metalcore stereotype because their melodic template is rooted in the Botch, even if their songs sound like B-sides of Asking Alexandria. The result is a metalcore album you can feel slightly better about blaring wit’ ur homiez.

Adobe Homes // Años – Albuquerque quartet Adobe Homes is more the screamo side of mathcore you see in bands like Frail Body, Ostraca, or the tragically Dolph-neglected Massa Nera – the line between chaos and yearning is blurred. To be fair, you’d be remiss to turn on a few tracks and hear a screamier rendition of math rock shiftiness in Cap’n Jazz or Pianos Become the Teeth (“Return”), complete with emotional chord progressions, complex layered plucking, desperate shrieks, and melancholy singing. Doin’ my home state proud with the skramz a la mathy rhythms and manic drumming (“Tennamis,” “Satandelay Me¡ White Empress,”² “Pals”), emo anthems fed through the Delta Sleep machine (“Pacheco,” “File Under ‘Heartache’ for 2010-12”) and placid and heartfelt instrumental pieces (“Return,” “Translated into Flesh”). Adobe Homes is gentle and yearning, its mathcore attack more like a pillow fight, but its emotion more than compensates.

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Glasgow Grin channels a red-hot, violent anger through a mix of groove metal, hardcore, metalcore, and nu-metal. This anger emanates from Karzis’s loud, punky vocal style. He shouts all sorts of angry, violent proclamations, letting us know he’s “ready for war / It’s time to fight” on opener “Glasgow Grin.” On “No Gods, No Chains,” he sounds like an angry version of the Beastie Boys when he shouts, “every breath I take, it just fuels my / Rage.” There’s a sort of macho nihilism in the lyrics as Karzis portrays a world requiring violence, or the threat of it, in order to survive. This comes off in the straight-for-the-throat instrumentation as well, with mid-paced blast beats pounding mercilessly and guitars buzzing angrily. Full House Brew Crew unsuccessfully emulate the swagger of Pantera with lines like “Welcome to the other side / You fucking bitch” used as a mic drop (“The Other Side”). The anger often serves less as a cathartic outlet than an expression of meanness.

Full House Brew Crew struggle to write any hooks to help the music stand out. Right off the bat, “Glasgow Grin” sounds like little more than a mood piece lacking melody and structure. Not only that, but many of the songs are surprisingly low energy for material that’s so irate. Glasgow Grin also provides a mixed bag in the chorus department. Some songs sound so uniform that the chorus goes by without notice (“The Tear”), or they have a clear chorus that’s just not very good (“The Other Side”). “No Gods, No Chains” has some success with its memorable, chant-y chorus, and there are moments where Full House Brew Crew shows flashes of hooks, such as the guitar lead on “No Gods, No Chains” and some djenty riffs that channel After the Burial and Born of Osiris (“The Tear,” “Distant Star”). Unfortunately, these moments are few and often fail to land.

The second half of Glasgow Grin starts off as though it’s going to redeem the record’s rather bland first half. Two tunes, “Rain” and “Distant Star,” make use of cleans for some pretty catchy choruses that break up the monotonous rage. Full House Brew Crew is also more experimental on these tracks, going into some progressive spells with a warbly, dreamy solo on “Rain” and an arpeggiated bridge on “Distant Star” that reveal some depth to their songwriting. “From the Gutter” probably best demonstrates where the band could succeed with its more aggressive songwriting. It has a lively, energetic feel missing on much of the album, but unfortunately, it fails to stick the landing when the final minute devolves into random, Gojira-style harmonics. From there, Glasgow Grin struggles to find its footing again. “Crawling” plays a grating guitar tone for almost its entirety, and “Reign of Terror” has a weird breakdown in its final moments that concludes the record on a deflatingly flat note.

Rather than a grin, this risks painting a permanent Glasgow Scowl on your face. Fortunately, Full House Brew Crew cuts enough fat that the album’s over in a brief 34 minutes. There are certainly glimpses here and there of where they could take their groove metal in a more successful direction. However, the pure rage channeled through piss-poor production values often feels like an angry version of Steve Carell mindlessly yelling, “I love lamp.” Maybe there’s some catharsis, but mostly it’s just a headache.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Roar! Rock of Angels Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

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Dormant Heart was the closing chapter on a trio of unfuckwithable albums that deftly melded viscous thrash, modern core sensibilities, and instrumental tangents with guitar heroics rivaling the best bands out there. Post 2020 put the band on a new path, and The New Flesh offers a continuation and evolution of their previous record. For a band with so many past members, their latest shows zero signs of flagging. Clearly, Middleton’s direction has been a north star for the band, and nothing on The New Flesh will surprise longtime fans.

Sylosis’s obsession with riffs remains intact, and The New Flesh is chock-full of them like every record before it. Middleton’s vocals are as powerful as ever, and his range remains impressive. The band seems almost always to avoid the worst parts of metalcore clean singing, and there is so much pathos in his delivery that you can hear the venom dripping from every word. “All Glory, No Valour” is a drumming tour de force for Ali Richardson, whose feats keep up with Middleton and Conor Marshall’s barreling riffs. It isn’t all roses, though, and Ben Thomas’s low end gets lost in the overly clean modern metal production. While there is enough there to give the riffs proper weight, the bass only occasionally shines and is rarely present without straining your ears.

The New Flesh’s creative focus only occasionally falters, and any song that has one or two individual weak spots has twice as many head-banging turn-arounds. The slightly uninspired chorus of “Erased” is quickly forgotten amid the song’s infectious groove, chest-thumping ethos, and refrain of “Here’s your parting gift,” before it drops into delirious riffing and devastating pick-scraping. Album closer “Seeds In The River” features a bit of tired metaphor, but also has some of the best riffs on the record, and more than enough to keep listeners coming back. The only real blemish on The New Flesh is a tale as old as time, a misplaced ballad. While Sylosis has never shied from clean singing or big melodic swings, “Everywhere At Once” may be the band’s first true “ballad,” and it shows. It lacks the atmosphere of similar songs on past albums like Dormant Heart’s “Quiescent” or the soaring riffs and bombasticity of “Abandon” on Cycle of Suffering. It is entirely skippable, with generic musings about missing family when touring that feel trite compared to Sylosis’ usual lyrical targets and vitriolic delivery.

Outside of those few stumbles, The New Flesh is nearly spotless. “Circle Of Swords” feels like a makeup track after dropping a ballad on the listener, giving some much-needed headbanging whiplash. “Beneath The Surface” kicks things off in wild fashion, “Lacerations” is a stadium melter, and “Spared From The Guillotine” is one of Sylosis’ most unhinged tracks in the last decade. Sans ballad, The New Flesh, is ten tracks of furious, solid, and infectious metal that feel essential in an era lacking in just good old-fashioned headbangers. The band finds a spot where the speed and technical sensibility of thrash meld with the belligerent energy of core and the hooky riffs of groove metal. For modern metal fans, Sylosis deserves a spot at the forefront. Where older acts like Lamb of God seem to have basically lost the creative energy that originally drove them, The New Flesh is here to offer up a no frills heavy metal record that leaves all pretense at the door after kicking it down. Sylosis has more than earned its seat among the modern metal greats, and The New Flesh only further cements that legacy.

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Crystal Lake

The Weight of Sound is the heft of change and consistency alike for Crystal Lake. A notable change is the departure of long-time vocalist Ryo Kinoshita, who released the debut for his solo project Knosis last year, and was replaced by John Robert Centorrino, former vocalist of The Last Ten Seconds of Life. The band acknowledges that Kinoshita’s shoes are nearly impossible to fill; to supplement, Centorrino is backed by an array of guest vocalists: David Simonich of Signs of the Swarm, Taylor Barber of Left to Suffer and Seven Hours After Violet, Myke Terry of Volumes and Fire from the Gods,¹ Karl Schubach of Misery Signals and Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage. Consistently, however, the instrumental approach is the same, bringing back the nu-metal-meets-djent-meets-hardcore chugs (whose absence made the last two outings toothless), as well as that trademark ethereal guitar layers. The result, however, falls woefully short compared to Crystal Lake’s landmark albums, as the knuckleheaded overtakes the thoughtful and the vocals become a monotonous muck.

For positives, when Crystal Lake manages to balance the heavy and the atmospheric, tracks can truly soar. Yearning chord progressions, layers of melodies and sustained trills, and desperate vocals combine to add a nice dose of melancholy and fury, accented by the band’s signature guitar tone that balances djent weight with hardcore urgency. Even Centorrino’s cleans are a nice addition throughout these tracks, distant shouts or croons that recall Brett Gurewitz’s guest spot in Parkway Drive’s “Home is for the Heartless:”: tasteful and subtle. These tracks primarily populate the back half, a calm after the storm of metalcore pummeling, complete with a more somber mood (“The Undertow,” “The Weight of Sound,” “Sinners,” “Coma Wave”) that recalls more melodic hardcore-inflected metalcore acts like Counterparts or The Ghost Inside. The patience in the songwriting of these moments is also noteworthy, as movements feel nicely unhurried and appropriately contemplative.

Crystal Lake’s balance of the atmosphere and chug, as well as vocal charisma, have always been assets, but they plague The Weight of Sound. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love Helix’s more light-and-airy vibe, but too many tracks are just too knuckleheaded here to make a splash, particularly the opening “unnecessary contractions” triptych (“Everblack,” “BludGod,” “Neversleep”), which seem like the band’s metalcore answer to Signs of the Swarm’s To Rid Myself of Truth. Meanwhile, other tracks seem to be wildly inconsistent and are true head-scratchers in terms of placement in the tracklist, featuring bluesy Southern vibes (“King Down”) or awkward shifts between heavy and ethereal (“Dystopia,” “Crossing Nails”). Each placement in the playlist at large feels shoehorned and abrupt, from balls-to-the-wall heavy to southern to ethereal, to confused. For the number of guest vocalists that appear throughout The Weight of Sound, Centorrino’s vocals make them difficult to discern with his smokier and denser presence. It’s unclear if this makes him a better performer or if the production value is just that putrid – or both.

To their credit, Crystal Lake hasn’t had to change up their sound since Kinoshita’s departure, and the balance between ethereal atmosphere and chuggy metalcore remains a formidable asset. However, scattershot songwriting and odd track placement doom effectiveness beyond a few sparse moments to break up the confused, knuckleheaded beatdowns. The Weight of Sound is everything you loved about The Sign eleven years ago, but with less identity and more distraction, chugging along for one song before brutalizing you with breakdowns the next. But most notable is Crystal Lake’s lack of direction: The Weight of Sound is all chugs and atmosphere with no clear purpose.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: crystallake-worldwide.com | facebook.com/crystallake777
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

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URNE serves up nearly fifty minutes of Mastodon-infused metalcore on Setting Fire to the Sky. Yes, you read that correctly. Nothing on their third album feels reminiscent of the classic-rock-infused, post-hardcore sludge on their debut, or the post-metal epics on A Feast on Sorrow. Instead, their latest is stuffed with songs that, while expertly played and produced, feel soulless. Joe Nally sounds like a different singer at this point. While his clean singing is infinitely more competent, it sounds too similar to Mastodon’s Troy Sanders. Nally’s basswork fares better, and he manhandles the frets along Angus Neyra’s thrashy riffs and James Cook’s punchy drumming. The trio sounds great, and their work has been honed like a razor, likely due to their time alongside massive acts like Gojira and Mastodon, but they lack the creative bend of either. Setting Fire to the Sky feels meant to cast a wide net, playing arenas and the radio, but leaving much of the spirit (heh) that was present on SPIRIT & SERPENT to wither.

Expectations hurt URNE on Setting Fire to the Sky. After A Feast on Sorrow, I saw a band poised for their best work yet. URNE’s latest shows a tighter band playing well, and the production is much better than their last outing, but nearly every other facet feels weaker. Songs quickly grow formulaic and repetitive, with “Be Not Dismayed,” “The Spirit, Alive,” and “Setting Fire to the Sky” starting with a chuggy opening riff (usually the best part) and slowly morphing into a generic metalcore song. Each features the typical swing back and forth between core-style screaming and harmonized clean choruses that feel hamfisted, with generically uplifting lyrics like “Be not dismayed and carry this torch forward.” The album lacks the flourishes of URNE’s past two releases, and rarely do songs deviate from their repetitive structures.

Setting Fire to the Sky isn’t all disappointing. As previously mentioned, the production is great, and James Cook’s snare sounds wonderful throughout. While formulaic, the album is full of riffs that will at least get you headbanging, even if they are without pathos. “The Ancient Horizon” is an album highlight, featuring a massive lead and a sound worthy of its title while avoiding the pitfalls of the metalcore hole URNE has crawled into. Album closer “Nocturnal Forms” falls on the good side of Mastodon worship, with a chorus that feels like something off Emperor of Sand. A few features appear on the album, like the aforementioned “Harken the Waves” with Troy Sanders. A song that feels somewhat comical given Joe Nally’s clear worship of Sander’s iconic style, making for a feature that feels obligatory but not complementary. The second, “Breathe” with Jo Quail, goes nowhere. An overly sappy tune with bland cleans and cringe lyrics like “I saw the world, before the world saw me.” Neither feature feels necessary, and with the latter, you have a track that could be cut altogether.

I had high expectations, but Setting Fire to the Sky failed to meet them at every turn. The band’s sound changed in a way that many metal fans are familiar with. More generic music, more radio-friendly songs, more clean singing, all the things that make longtime metal fans cringe and flip on a group. While I foresee this album ending up all over year-end lists on the normie sites, this record is a shadow of the band’s clear inspirations and shows a group that should return to what made them stand out in the first place. At least the album artwork is gorgeous.

Rating: Mixed
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream :(
Label: Spinefarm
Websites: urneofficial.com | instagram.com/urneband
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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For the brand of ultra-modern nü-deathcore they play, Bite Down clearly know what they’re doing. Violent Playground is largely made up of short, 2–3 minute bludgeon-fests that deploy every tool in the contemporary heavy music arsenal to maximize mosh appeal. These are straightforward songs built on simple core riffs and stacked with multiple breakdowns, all pushed to their absolute limit and enhanced by smart production choices. Subtle synths and electronic textures thicken the riffs, while bass drops and vocal layering ensure that every breakdown lands with maximum violence. The band blends the nü-metal-tinged bleeps, bloops, and Digitech whammy abuse of Darko US with the over-the-top brutality of Dealer, delivering it all with the unapologetic ignorance of stylistic forebearers Emmure. For the most part, this results in an effective—if predictable—modern core assault, though it isn’t without its missteps.

Violent Playground is a short, nine-track release, and on roughly half of those songs, Bite Down are firing on all cylinders. Tracks like “Self Inflicted,” “Bury You,” “Paralythe,” and “Bound to Nothing” highlight the band’s knack for crafting vicious, crowd-ready violence, hurtling between kill riffs and breakdowns under the guidance of vocalist Hampus Ströberg’s venomous delivery and misanthropic lyrics. Unfortunately, these highlights are offset by several tracks that lean more heavily into hip-hop influences, disrupting the album’s momentum. The title track detours into a brief rap verse before circling back to a final breakdown, while “Deadweight” spends much of its runtime riding a trap-style instrumental alongside a rap feature. These moments aren’t disastrously executed—“Wastage,” in particular, effectively uses a restrained hip-hop intro before fully kicking in, but they’re less compelling and feel out of place on such a concise tracklist.

The core issue with Violent Playground is that it doesn’t quite register as a fully realized album. With the inclusion of the interlude “Exit Out,” Bite Down are left with only eight full songs, two of which are partially sidelined by less engaging rap sections. On a record that barely cracks the 20-minute mark, this has a noticeable impact, making the release feel more like a slightly beefed-up EP than a cohesive full-length. Combined with the lack of a clear flow or overarching thematic thread, the album falls short of elevating its strongest moments. The standout tracks are undeniably effective, but they aren’t enhanced by the context surrounding them, and that’s ultimately a missed opportunity.

On Violent Playground, Bite Down show that they’re plenty capable of making effective and devastating nü-deathcore bangers, but not of making a cohesive album. The standout tracks here (“Bury You, “Paralythe,” and “Bound by Nothing”) hit hard enough to justify the buzz and will almost certainly thrive in isolation, primed for gym playlists, breakdown compilations, and bite-sized algorithm fodder, but I’d be hard-pressed to revisit the full album instead of just listening to my preferred songs. Bite Down clearly understand how modern heavy music circulates and succeeds online, but until that singles-first mentality is translated into a more holistic artistic vision, this debut feels less like a complete album and more like a well-executed content drop for the feed.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 160 kb/s mp3
Label: Prime Collective
Websites: bitedownmusic.com| facebook.com/bitedownband
Releases Worldwide: January 9th, 2026

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Here we go again, another day, another genre that generally gets written off by the metal faithful. Metalcore is a gateway for many metalheads, but it rarely has staying power past those formative years. I had the opposite experience, and only really found metalcore that I enjoyed well into my heavy music tenure. Dying Wish is one of those bands that dug its way out of the pit and drilled its way into my brain. The band’s latest album, Flesh Stays Together, is an emotionally charged ripper filled with catchy hooks, vicious breakdowns, and a manic energy more akin to acts like Venom Prison than its contemporaries.

Dying Wish vocalist Emma Boster is the immediate standout, and their vitriolic, raspy screams combine with rich, deep cleans to make for hooks that last. Metalcore is full of mediocre vocalists who are decent screamers with terrible clean singing, making many bands’ music feel perfunctory rather than genuine. Not here, Boster is a top-tier mic-barker, and Flesh Stays Together is stuffed with memorable moments. “Revenge In Carnage,” “Nothing Like You,” and the title track are just a few examples where they shine. Dying Wish doesn’t let the ball drop elsewhere, and the rest of the band keeps pace. Guitarists Pedro Carillo and Sam Reynolds bring the hammer with impactful breakdowns bolstered by production that can stand the weight. While Flesh Stays Together leans more on the hardcore side with its guitarwork, the abrasive pick-scraping, thoughtful leads, and quality mixing raise it above the heap. Jon Mackey’s bass is the thrumming soul of the album, audibly chugging in the background and adding impact to every note. Lastly, a clean and natural snare with a solid punch from drummer Jeff Yambra rounds out a band that knows how to bring the core to metalcore without carrying all the lame baggage that usually comes with it.

Flesh Stays Together hits hard and is impeccably played, as all good metal should be, but the powerful emotional core is even more potent, permeating the entire album. “Nothing Like You” calls out toxic family behavior and alcoholism, and Boster swears to be better than those who came before them. Even well-worn tropes have a hard edge, with the title track becoming both a call to arms and an ode to the power of becoming infatuated. When Boster sings, “I’d massacre all of heaven for you”, I can’t help but feel similarly about protecting the ones I care most about. Flesh Stays Together is a dark look at the worst in us, putting a mirror up to how family shapes our flaws, and Boster tackles these demons head-on.

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One of the most compelling aspects of The Blue Nowhere is the genre exploration BTBAM undertakes on nearly every track. In their earlier work (Alaska, Colors), BTBAM often veered into Mr. Bungle–esque genre detours as brief respites from their riff-salad. ³ Over time, these moments have gradually evolved into elements that feel more organically woven into the songs’ DNA. On The Blue Nowhere, that evolution reaches full maturity, with tracks built around key genre incorporations that bring a sense of playfulness and ingenuity to the A-side, making the lengthy record breeze by. From a funkalicious opener that careens between tasty chicken-scratch guitars and soaring, progtastic choruses (“Things We Tell Ourselves in the Dark”), to a delightful bluegrass motif that anchors a rambunctious tune (“Absent Thereafter”), to an industrial-tinged rager that culminates in one of the band’s classic breakdowns (“God Terror”), the opening salvo showcases a band fully at ease melding their signature sound with unexpected combinations—and achieving stellar results.

None of these genre experiments would matter much, however, if the band lacked strong songs to support them. Fortunately, BTBAM excel in that department. The record’s B-side continues to explore new sonic territory for BTBAM, from an extended, vaudevillian, string-led passage (“Slow Paranoia”) to a post-rock–influenced climax (“Beautifully Human”), but the latter half is especially focused on sharpening their songwriting to a level it has never quite reached before. “Psychomanteum” and “Slow Paranoia” present the band at their very best, seamlessly blending breakneck pacing and technical wizardry with memorable hooks and an unmistakable sense of fun, earning their place alongside my favorite classic tracks and never once feeling their 11-plus-minute runtimes. It’s in the closing pair of tracks, though—“The Blue Nowhere” and “Beautifully Human”—that the album truly drives home its impact. These are cleaner, more somber compositions than nearly anything the band has released before, ⁴ complete with lush synth layers and captivating vocal harmonies. Together, they highlight BTBAM’s ability to craft powerful, emotionally resonant songs that place their impeccable musicianship firmly in service of the composition, serving as the finishing touch to an already excellent record.

The Blue Nowhere is Between the Buried and Me’s most exciting and fully realized release in years. It’s unmistakably BTBAM, yet it finds the band fully comfortable with their evolution, delivering an impressive set of layered, intricate, and emotionally resonant tracks. The record feels like a return to form, with the group confidently rediscovering their footing and producing one of the strongest prog releases of the year.

Tracks to Check Out: “God Terror,” “Absent Thereafter,” “Slow Paranoia,” “Beautifully Human”

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