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

The post Abstracted – Hiraeth Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

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

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

Kenstrosity’s Knightly Nightmare

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

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

ClarkKent’s Sonic Symphonics

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

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

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

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

Grin Reaper’s Frozen Feast

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus Spoke’s Random Revelations

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

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

Owlswald’s Holiday Scraps

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

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

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

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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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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In many ways, To Rid Myself of Truth is the part 2 of predecessor Amongst the Low & the Empty, but the Pittsburgh quartet has never quite hammered down what their trademark approach to deathcore is. From the slammy gurgles of CJ McCreery’s troubled tenure in Senseless Order and The Disfigurement of Existence, to the husky roars of David Simonich in his contributions to discography highlights Vital Deprivation and Absolvere, Signs of the Swarm has latched onto Low & Empty’s template in being as brutally downtuned and chuggily cutthroat as possible. To Rid Myself of Truth continues the toe-dipping into djent and industrial for maximum heft and devastation, and while it’s better than its predecessor, it still begs the question why you should go out of your way to rid yourself of truth.

To Signs of the Swarm’s credit, To Rid Myself of Truth is a little more than the one-trick pony fucking shit up in the pit the way its predecessor was. Techier flourishes, rabid blastbeats, and rhythmic warbling offer reprieves in the muck, while better songwriting doesn’t end every track with ten-ton demonic breakdowns. Pinch harmonics add a dimension of madness to the already insane brutality (“Natural Selection,” “Iron Sacrament”) and jerky djent rhythms add a bit of variety (“Scars Upon Scars”), while a neat lil’ groove spices things up (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot”). Once again, Simonich delivers an absolutely monstrous performance, his horrifying vocals an easy highlight amid low and empty chuggery, including some tasteful grunge-influenced cleans atop eerie industrial-influenced plucking and atmospheric tremolo picking (“Forcing to Forget”). Guest vocalists show up in tasteful areas, including the man, the myth, the Lorna-man Will Ramos (“Clouded Retinas”), Whitechapel’s Phil Bozeman (“Iron Sacrament”), 156/Silence’s Jack Murray, and Prison’s Johnny Crowder (“Fear & Judgement”), providing a bit of reprieve to Simonich’s all-consuming roar. To Rid Myself of Truth can feel like a honed version of Amongst the Low & Empty, utilizing the same tools but with tighter performances.

To Rid Myself of Truth has all the ingredients to a solid album – as Signs of the Swarm has always possessed – but the execution of excessive brutality and stuffy production makes it into a messed up deathcore duck-cake.¹ While it felt like Amongst the Low & Empty had almost infinite breadth in its production and mixing, To Rid Myself of Truth is majorly compressed and condensed, perhaps lending itself to the tight galloping of Absolvere. But we can’t have our duck cake and eat it too, because the mix is absolutely suffocating trying to remedy the two approaches. As such, like you insulted Signs of the Swarm’s mother, you’ll be hit with so many concussions in sheer amount of breakdowns and venomous attacks, it’ll be hard to keep track (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot,” “Sarkazein” all come to mind). Many of these tracks likewise follow a similar pattern, opening up with the title of the song roared, followed by bone-crushing breakdowns, too often adhering to the “To the Hellfire” formula of “yuuuuuuge” concussive chugs and Simonich sounding as animalistic and demonic as possible.

To Rid Myself of Truth is catharsis for Signs of the Swarm,² a streamlined potpourri of no-frills deathcore that continually beats you over the head with “ze brootalz.” If this is your bread and butter, then feel free to rid yourself of truth – this album was written for you. Signs of the Swarm, as in the case with Amongst the Low & Empty, constantly impresses with its trendiness and novelty: a relentless breed of brutality with a consistently impressive vocal performance. However, once the novelty wears off, you’re left with brickwalled production and copied-and-pasted brutality. To Rid Myself of Truth? More like To Rid Myself of Tooth.³

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: signsoftheswarm.bandcamp.com | signsoftheswarm.com | facebook.com/signsoftheswarm
Releases Worldwide: August 22nd, 2025

The post Signs of the Swarm – To Rid Myself of Truth Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Vildhjarta has a fervent fanbase in spite of having relatively little music to speak of. Having coined the mysterious “thall!” battle cry and influencing a ton of “djentlemen,” Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar is only their third full-length. The influential concept album Måsstaden was a landmark of djenty deathcore, but was immediately left almost entirely unanswered (apart from the Thousands of Evils EP in 2013) until 2021 with the release of Måsstaden under vatten (“seagull city underwater”). That album rekindled what made the act so formidable to begin with: downtuned choppy djent riffs, reverb-laden leads that sway between dissonant and hyper-melodic, and staccato overlapping rhythms. Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar is undeniably Vildhjarta in this way, although it benefits from its more playful approach, streamlined songwriting, heightened atmosphere, and deepened weight, but it won’t change your mind about Vildhjarta in its one-note and overlong glory.

Vildhjarta has always been unique for its ability to take the novelty and highlights of djent and make an experience out of it. Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar is the most pristine and positive of the band’s discography, reflecting its sanguine title,² compared to the ominous ambiance pervading the dark fairytales of the Måsstaden suite. While its predecessors dove headfirst into the darkness, Där skogen... seems to embrace a more dreamy attitude reminiscent of post-rock bands like Sigur Rós or Hammock. Yes, the Swedes have amped the density and weight of their djent, but have also raised its hell-gazing heads to the cosmos. There are certainly moments of ominous dissonance (“Där mossan möter havet”), but most tracks feel downright cheery by comparison. Toss in some well-placed vocals that range from dreamy to powerful (“Sargasso,” “Där mossan möter havet,” “Kristallfågel,” “? regnet, the ?,” “Viktlös & evig”), and stargazing to djent never seemed so apt.

That being said, if drop-tuned djenty beatdowns interspersed with reverb-y leads, wild runs, and synth overlays are not your thing, that’s basically what Vildhjarta does for fifty-six minutes straight, which is downright brief compared to its predecessor’s eighty-one minutes. One riff to rule them all: variety and differentiation are not names of the game for Vildhjarta. Even tempo remains at a comfortable 90 bpm for the majority of the album; sudden blastbeats give the illusion of speed. Vilhelm Bladin’s harsh vocals remain predictable death growls with a climax of a shriek here and there aside from sparse, almost-spoken word (“Hösten som togs ifrån mig,” “Den spanska känslan”), although the cleans have much more range. Guitar work remains entirely predictable, aside from the pairing of melancholy plucking and its punchy polyrhythm call-back (“Viktlös & evig”) or some almost classical noodling (“Den spanska känslan”).

Yes, Vildhjarta is an experience of surreal proportions, particularly compared to the legions of their super-serious genremates. Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar’s pristine atmosphere stands out among even its own shadowy discography, although it retains all the act’s trademarks. The act works better as a trio, as it forces them to cut the fluff into what works and what doesn’t. That being said, it does not justify why you should spend nearly an hour getting a djent concussion only to gaze up at the stars through newly encephalopathic eyes. Old habits die hard, and while mysterious and enigmatic, the Swedes’ formula is predictable, if not hella fun for the initiated. Ultimately, if you’re a fan, Vildhjarta is above-average djent; if you’re not a fan, Vildhjarta is average djent.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: vildhjarta.bandcamp.com | vildhjartastore.com | facebook.com/vildhjartaofficial
Releases Worldwide: May 30th, 2025

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Though incepted as a fuller band effort with the heart of an electronically urgent, less symphonic Nightwish or Epica, Elyose now falls under the primary care of vocalist and composer Justine Daaé. With collaborative assistance from djent veteran Anthony Chognard (ex-Smash Hit Combo), Elyose has shifted from pop heavy metal-rooted hop to a sound more Kemper-fied and modern. But unlike other popular female-voiced acts who sport a melodic focus around extended range rhythms, like Spiritbox or Poppy, Daaé sticks to the power of her full and trained clean timbre, finding vocal play in lush harmonies and playful percussive runs.¹ Maintaining Évidence in almost entirely her native French tongue, Daaé brings both an earnestness and extra depth of pronunciation expression to each passing phrase.² Though Évidence has an undeniable musical catchiness and air of accessibility, its bones remain too personal in aim and adoration for an industrial/alternative past, and too metal in dramatic spirit, to land neatly in a pop lane.

Despite the layers that Daaé peppers into triumphant choruses and textured verse articulations, Chognard maintains a workmanlike framing with riff accompaniment to build rhythmic tension around hypnotic synth lines. On the most electronic leading tracks, Elyose’s warbling hooks grow from subdued fluctuations to whirring guitar squeals to strobe-blaring crescendo with a cinematic scope and effortless swagger (“Mission Lunaire,” “Théogyne 2.0”). And in a manner reminiscent of the smart and slamming groove from the most successful VOLA works, Chognard weaves jagged thumps alongside powerful, character-driven vocal tethers to sink Évidence’s teeth even deeper into the urge to hit the replay button (“Ascension Tracée,” “Immuable,” “Abnégation”). Out of context, bits and pieces of the modern guitar work can feel like patchwork constructs from a mind informed by ’10s djent memories, but in context it maintains a careful balance with Daaé’s unique presence.

That familiarity of riffcraft does hold Elyose from striking harder throughout parts of Évidence, though. It’s less the note-for-note déjà vu of a nasally amp-simulated tapping run or a seven-string Periphery preset note crushing than it is the overall flatness of guitar production that takes away some of the mystique that classic crunchy layer can offer. Again, many of these clips that offend in this way serve as short segues or setups for Daaé to mark with greater lasting power the peaks of each composition. And a few licks that warp and chime alongside intense bridges hold a particularly nostalgic resplendence in their carry (“Étoile Solitaire,” “Ascension Tracée”). But for a couple of tracks that follow patterns on a similar path (namely “Tentatives Échouées” and “Prête au Combat”), the escalating flow that pervades through Évidence can lose its way.

Not all pleasures in life have to be complicated, yet it would be disingenuous to call Évidence simple. While the formula for Évidence hasn’t changed much from Déviante, Elyose continues to perform with an idiosyncratic style rooted in detailed, memorable mic work and addictive, groovy instrumental backing that is hard to put down. There’s no secret to Elyose’s success—every song shoves an undeniable chorus through the trials of verses and bridges and reprisals that fall exactly where they should. But Évidence powers through the complacency of chorus worship with a voice determined to soar. The only feeling that could make the joy of Elyose’s music more rewarding is perseverance, a feeling which Évidence embodies with a glitching and gliding charisma and a catharsis-clenched fist held high.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: PCM³
Label: Self Release
Websites: elyosemusic.com | facebook.com/elyoseofficial
Releases Worldwide: January 10th, 2025

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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 maths, 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.”).¹ 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 tell 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 super 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!!

Better Lovers // Highly Irresponsible – Last year’s barnstormer debut EP God Made Me an Animal set one hell of a precedent for Buffalo’s Better Lovers, and their debut full-length does not disappoint. Yes, it’s a revenge album against Keith Buckley’s lesser rival project Many Eyes, but Highly Irresponsible is soooo much more than petty Every Time I Die drama. Amplifying every facet of their sound, you get more manic barks and charismatic croons from legendary former The Dillinger Escape Plan vocalist Greg Puciato, more chunky riffage from Fit for an Autopsy’s Will Putney, and more of a southern fried good time from three-fifths of the defunct-and-dramatic Every Time I Die.² While unafraid to embrace hooky rock sensibilities (“Deliver Us from Life,” “At All Times”), the punky, bluesy, and sleazy all-out assaults of tempo-abusing insanity (“A White Horse Covered in Blood,” “Love As An Act of Rebellion”) collide with fret-squealing riff fests of the highest caliber (“Lie Between the Lines,” “Future Myopia”) in an insanely catchy, dynamic, stupid heavy, and stupid fun album with legendary status awaiting.

Frontierer // The Skull Burned Wearing Hell Like a Life Vest As the Night Wept – Look, I get that it’s a thirteen-minute EP released super late 2024, but, c’mon, it’s fucking Frontierer. Somehow seeming more punishing than usual across its four tracks, thick-ass slogs hit like sledgehammers to the temple – translating well across its more frantic moments and slower menace – while rhythms attack with the ferocity and doomed inevitability of a swarm of locusts and vocalist Chad Kapper spits blood, vitriol, and insanity into the mic. Channeling the glacial suffocation that coursed through Oxidized, it doesn’t matter if the tempo is more upbeat and energetic (“As the Night Wept”) or if it’s content sludging in its own muck (“Wearing Hell”), or indulging in both (“The Skull Burned”), the vibrant dissonance swirls in dizzyingly mechanical intensity and the down-tuned riffs smother with ruthless arrhythmic beatdown chugs. While comparable to Ion Dissonance, Car Bomb, and this year’s Weston Super Maim in emphasis on down-tuned mathcore punishment, Frontierer remains one of the genre frontrunners and trendsetters by a significant margin – in a short thirteen minutes.

The God Awful Truth // All That Dark & All That Cold – Denton, Texas’ The God Awful Truth is likely everything you love or hate about mathcore. Dissonance spilling sloppily across its shaky breakdowns, deathcore gut-punches, vocal attacks as insane as the squawking panic chords that paint the background like Jackson Pollock on too much crack, and rhythms jolting about like a toddler on a go-cart. Alongside these traditional The Tony Danza Tapdance Extravaganza-isms (“Hail Paimon,” “Street Rat”), there is a lighthearted banter guided by vocalist Jordan LaFerney’s cowboy vocals and resulting poppy rhythms, punky tempos, and loose grind-esque composition (“Symbology,” “Slicked Back,” “Bad Tooth”), though the menacing still manages to punch through when least expected (“The Rainmaker,” “Omelette du Fromage”). It’s brutal whiplash of an album, not a semblance of traditional melody to be found, with deathcore breakdowns acting more as the punchline of a song-long joke. You’ll get a headache, but you’ll have fun along the way.

meth. / See You Next Tuesday // Asymmetrics – Mathcore and noisecore have a lot in common, namely unlistenable blasting. Your favorite Michigan deathcore/mathcore darlings See You Next Tuesday teams up with Chicago noisemongers meth. for Asymmetrics, more a collaborative experiment than a split. Each band records three songs, then shares only the drum tracks with the other, who records another song over that drum track. Toss in guest spots from The Red Chord’s Guy Kozowyk and Memphis-based sludgecore act Nights Like These, and all elements practically topple under Asymmetrics’ blazing intensity and immense weight. CUNT’s influence in relentless blasters (“The First Steps of Suffering,” “Syntax Error”) and blasting deathcore chug-and-squeal-fests (“Breaking Under the Weight of the Heaviest Burden,” “Tomb of Woe”) collide with meth.’s more ominous slow burns (“Succumb,” “Guest,” “Willing Participant”) in a surprisingly well-rounded package, all wrapped up in a tidy – and fuckin’ noisy – twenty-seven minutes. It’s the best of both worlds!

Utopia // Shame – A breed of technical metal recalling the fretboard-frying abilities of The Human Abstract or Scale the Summit, this UK-based group (including prolific bassist Arran McSporran of Virvum) balances a jazzy warmth and lush atmosphere to balance out the Dillinger rhythmic attack and Psyopus-inspired shredding, made further vicious by vocalist Chris Reese’s attack of frantic fries, manic shrieks, and ghastly roars. From intense attacks of intensity and brutality (“Shame,” “Social Contracts”), wonkier exposes of dissonant motifs and jagged rhythms (“Never Argue With an Idiot,” “The Gift of Failure”), and lush vistas of warm fretless bass and jazzy chords (“Sun Damage,” “Zither,” “Moving Gently Towards the Grave”), the dark themes of shame and morbidity are offset by a truly transcendent atmosphere that ties Shame together into something beyond mathcore.

Missouri Executive Order 44 // Salt Sermon – Absolutely unhinged mathgrind with a religious theme both belying and echoing their LDS missionary aesthetic (short-sleeved white button-ups, ties, shorts, and bicycle helmets) and ominous black masks, anonymous Independence collective Missouri Executive Order 44 approaches a morbid history of religious intolerance with the goal of utter annihilation. Cramming eleven songs into a mere sixteen minutes like blasters Sectioned or Fawn Limbs, you can expect it to hit hard and fast, complete with unhinged mathy meltdowns that spill across the face of concrete rhythm, meatheaded powerviolence chugs (“Christian Pornography,” “They Built a Bass Pro Shop in Our Zion”), surprisingly groovy riffs (“The Unbuckling,” “Seven is a Holy Number”), tied together with vocalist Jarom’s cult leader shrieks and sinner wails, alongside wickedly distorted Mormon spoken word and gospel samples. Posing no stance of their own aside from the dethroning of tyranny, Salt Sermon stands with all its tragedy and iconoclasm, both utterly devastating and utterly enticing.

Shiverboard // Hacksaw Morissette – Aside from the silly genius of the album name, New York’s Shiverboard eludes easy definition. Most consistently planted in grind, art-punk, screamo, and mathcore sensibilities, Hacksaw Morissette deals with fifteen tracks that feel like a shotgun blast. Punk is a common thread coursed through this tapestry of asininity, ranging from Sex Pistols-with-animalistic-snarls (“All Black Snoopy,” “Stain Remover”), complete collapses into noisecore (“Cryptic Bismuth,” “Chastity Jeans”), over-the-top deathcore blares (“Chainsaw Fruit Punch,” “Angelina Shit Ton”), math rock and Midwest emo musings straight outta Delta Sleep or American Football (title track, “Drug Test,” “The Garbage Stork,” “Vitamins of Darkness”), and complete grind and mathcore meltdowns (“If I Can’t Have Love I Want Power,” “Torrential Drencher”) – there’s something for everyone aboard Hacksaw Morissette. With just enough dynamic to keep things interesting but not too much experimentation to throw listeners (thanks to the tasteful brevity), Shiverboard could stand to throw some more my way.

Traveller // Broken Home – Sometimes bumping mathcore is just an excuse to include djent, and Germany’s Traveller falls into this category. Utilizing Erra’s Impulse-era formula, Architects’ melodic sensibilities, a touch of Northlane’s ethereal moments, and a DIY grit whose “loud and ouchy” weight is sure to be divisive. Guided by ferocious roars, sporadic cleans, and “thicc thiccly” breakdowns galore it often emulates that mid-2000s metalcore that recalls a djentier Feed Her to the Sharks (“Never Cared (2002),” “Mismatch,” “Limbo”). Other times, it incorporates a groove and technicality that recalls the shenanigans of last year’s MouthBreather, making it a curb-stomping affair with an edge of the menacing melodies and ethereal keys (“Acheron,” “Orpheus”). Traveller is more djent and less mathcore, sure, but (1) you’re getting a lot more with Broken Home and (2) that’s why it’s at the end of this list.

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Ad Infinitum calls its fourth full-length its most experimental, but don’t set your expectations too high. At its core Abyss is pop vocals atop djent sensibilities with a healthy dose of atmosphere. It dispenses almost entirely of the symphonic tag that connected the previous three Chapters to mastermind Bonny’s history with Kamelot, Rage of Light, and Evenmore—aside from the closing orchestral version of “My Halo.” Abyss nonetheless embarks upon unique compositions, a pendulum between ethereal and crushing. The result is by no means revolutionary and is at times unbearable, but that doesn’t stop Bonny from singlehandedly carrying Ad Infinitum’s milquetoast instrumental performance to the finish line.

Of all the moments aboard Abyss, you’ll remember Ad Infinitum’s vocals most. Rivaling many modern-day pop singers, Melissa Bonny’s mezzo-soprano is formidable, her growls aptly intimidating, and her charisma dripping from every line, amplified by a guitar that hits with a djenty weight. Throughout the album’s tidy forty-one-minute runtime, angelic power soars atop spiteful riffing guitar (“My Halo,” “Follow Me Down,” “The One You’ll Hold On To”), husky roars reflect the attack (“Aftermath,” “Parasite”), ethereal frailty courses through keyboard-forward otherworldly soundscapes (“Euphoria,” “Outer Space,” “Parasite”), and earworm-laden pop croons over synthpop beats collapsing into sliding djent breakdowns (“Surrender”). “Outer Space” and “Parasite” are easy highlights, brutality, and ethereality at their most honed instrumental balance alongside Bonny’s most hypnotizing and cutthroat vocals, the choruses and bridges serving as dynamics that show how both beautiful and punishing Ad Infinitum is at its best. The comparisons to other acts that blend djent and atmosphere, such as TesseracT or Spiritbox, are tastefully recalled throughout.

Like any good pop music, Ad Infinitum’s biggest flaw is its novelty (or lack thereof) and its uneventful instrumentals. While tracks like “Outer Space” and “Parasite” are written with enough instrumental motifs and balance to balance Bonny’s vocals, “Surrender” tries to be as jarring as possible, shifting between djent riffs and synthpop passages with reckless abandon. The chorus of closer “Dead End” falls flat in a monotone drawl compared to its soundalike “Follow Me Down,” while the bonus orchestral version of “My Halo” does nothing for the better original. “Anthem for the Broken” is perhaps the most painful track on Abyss despite its attempt at a Sirenia-esque Phrygian mode. Its yearning lyrics recall the heart-on-sleeve pop influence of Lunatica’s “Who You Are” or Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song.”¹ Even in Abyss’ highlights, Ad Infinitum’s instrumentals are bland at best, setting a foundation for the vocals and little else, only reaching “good” status in the highlights through competent texturing. Because of this, Abyss’ audience is questionable in metal circles. The album is constructed of straightforward pop-heavy verse-chorus-bridge structures and vocals, a burden of proof that likewise rests too heavily on Bonny.

Melissa Bonny puts her best foot forward with Abyss and remains the beating heart of Ad Infinitum. It’s just a shame that the rest of the band isn’t up to the task. The album very much remains in the realm of “modern metal,” with bass-heavy breakdowns greeting sirenic vocals that will get casual listeners’ feet moving just as much as jaded metal fans’ brows furrowed for the wrong reasons. Abyss does a good job distancing itself from the “Gothic” moniker and power metal catch-all, but a full plunge into chunky pop is a controversial decision. Ad Infinitum ekes by, with the charisma of a frontwoman force to be reckoned with and just enough lightning to thunder in a scene clouded by mediocrity.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: adinfinitummusic.bandcamp.com | adinfinitumofficial.com | facebook.com/AdInfinitumMusic
Releases Worldwide: October 11th, 2024

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Post-metal is more of a qualifier than a genre, truth be told, but Million Moons do their best to make a sound of their own. While opener “Terra Nova” may trick the listener into thinking the band employs a crystalline, ambient approach, they quickly show they favor a brawnier, more immediate brand of post. The best comparisons here would be Caspian and If These Trees Could Talk, although there are passages of God Is An Astronaut-style EDM (“Uncharted Waters,” “Intruders In A Strange World”) and the cerebral, hemiola-laced djent of TesseracT (“Voice of the Wild”). The music oscillates between lush distant piano melodies braced against arpeggiated, heavily delayed guitars (“Terra Nova,” “Aurora”) and drum-driven passages that often triple-layer rhythms between the instruments for a sound that is at once chaotic while retaining metric rigidity (“I May Be Some Time,” “Endure, Overcome”).

Million Moons excel at atmosphere-building and the contrast of icy light with digital dark. The band aren’t content with the patient building of thick chords that usually heralds post-metal; they pepper their songs with atypical harmonic shifts (“Uncharted Waters”) and odd-time drum patterns (“Intruders In A Strange World” “Endure, Overcome”). One’s tolerance for rave-style EDM and djentistry will mark how much enjoyment can be derived from I May Be Some Time; the band makes these sounds a cornerstone of the album. The drums are particularly intricate, lending a different rhythmic shape to each song, but run a little too complex against the rest of the instruments (“Terra Nova,” “Voice of the Wild”). Even with a modest DR 6, the music is undeniably pretty, with all the instruments occupying their own detailed space. Of note is that I May Be Some Time clocks in at a lithe 36 minutes; a veritable EP in the world of post-metal, one of the few genres where too little material may be a red flag.

I May Be Some Time often leaves the impression of excellent musical material that’s missing some time in development. Longer tracks do a good job of moving from section to section, careful not to overstay their welcome, but the melodic material never reaches payoff level, and the dynamics never really explode (“Uncharted Waters,” “I May Be Some Time”). Shorter tracks are more aggressive—read EDM/djent—filled with hooky grooves and frantic energy, but I miss development sections, secondary melodies, or extended guitar leads in their clipped runtimes (“Voice of the Wild,” “Intruders In A Strange Land”). But one-two punch “Endure, Overcome” and “Aurora” show what Million Moons can do when everything clicks into place. The former launches into slick polyrhythms and offbeat snare hits before transitioning into a triumphant major section, the eponymous “overcome.” And “Aurora,” a magnificent example of the instrumental long form, shows a patience in its development previously unseen on the record, twisting and climbing into a gorgeous, heartbreaking bi-chordal progression illustrating the final moments of the story’s protagonists.

As the album fades away, I’m left with an impression of what Million Moons are capable of over a pair of songs, but not an entire record. Listening back to A Gap In The Clouds it’s clear the band chose a more truncated and aggressive direction for this record, and that paid in both dividends and losses. I May Be Some Time makes for an enlightening distraction to the growls and shrieks of everyday metal life, and contains some real kernels of possibility for the young band. The bedeviled lot of you who are fans of instrumental metal should give this band a fair shake, and those of you who aren’t should check it out anyway, and expand your horizons past the Southern Seas and into the frozen unknown.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s
Label: Ripcord Records | Bandcamp
Websites: facebook.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: July 5, 2024

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