Fortunately, the first few minutes of Rituel : Initiation act as an interesting microcosm for its whole: “Une Pleine Absence” lulls you in slowly with heavy atmosphere, wordless sighs, throat singing (I believe from lead vocalist Sébastien Defabiani), and acoustic passages, slowly building in intensity. It does this so effectively, in fact, that when the guitars do arrive, they feel overly jagged, loud, and harsh. I signed up for a post-black metal album—I expected loud. But De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube do somber atmosphere very well, and they do post and black metal well, but it’s interesting how the two can be at odds with each other in this style. Ten minutes later, this moment is forgotten, and the guitars sound as natural as anything else. “Une Pleine Absence” is still going, incorporating tremolos and depressive shrieks as a heavier atmospheric element, and you know well what to expect over the rest of Rituel : Initiation.

This intersection of rough-around-the-edges post metal, black metal aggression, and atmospheric melancholy seems to define both Rituel : Initiation and De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube. “Le Vertige d’une Descendance” is similar to the intro in that it starts slowly and gives bassist Valerian Burki a moment to shine. It leans more post than black, with some strong riffs that give the song groove and, if you’ll forgive a technical term, head-nod factor. “Un Sanctuaire de Cendres” is much more blackened than post, but when Fantine Schütz’s clean singing soars through the gloom, it’s a genuinely touching moment. Tremolos towards the end from guitarists Dominique Blanc and Kilian Caddoux counterbalance nicely with Valentin Boada’s frantic drumming, and here, the intersections work very well.

If I were to criticize one thing about Rituel : Initiation, it’s that the blended styles don’t allow for a ton of memorability. There are great moments throughout the five tracks—I’ve mentioned a few already, and want to highlight the slow march riffing around the midpoint of “Un Sanctuaire de Cendres” as well. But generally, Rituel : Initiation does not feel very strongly structured as an album. Songs, all but one over eleven minutes long, move from one idea to the next coherently and naturally, but in such a way as to evade hooks or moments of particular catchiness or impact. I always enjoy listening, but after the fifty-three minutes are done, I don’t have much impression of specific songs I liked; rather, it’s moments here and there that I know were early or late in the session. This makes sense of the style De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube play, but it also gives the impression of a dense album that I perhaps still need to spend more time with to truly crack.

Still, I like what De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube are doing here. Cold, regal, aggressive, anguished, and balanced on a knife’s edge—there’s some good metal here! As “Une Absolute Prèsence” builds to the album’s climactic end, I can’t help but be impressed. I wouldn’t have hated more editing—there’s a lot of metal here too—but too much of a good thing isn’t a bad thing. Rituel : Initiation is, in my mind, an exciting debut, the kind that speaks of genuine potential. Color me intrigued.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: danapostmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/dana.postmetal
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

The post De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube – Rituel : Initiation Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

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

The post The Hirsch Effekt – Der Brauch Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

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

The post Course of Fate – Behind the Eclipse Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Of course not! Frozen Land is just as I remember them, or at least they are for the most part—Icemelter has a more aggressive edge to it, but is easily and recognizably the same Frozen Land I met in 2018. Opener “The Carrier,” for example, features a riff that could easily be found on a Tarot album, a notable sign of a heavier direction. But the rapid-fire vocals bridging their way to a bombastic, catchy chorus? That’s familiar Frozen Land, borrowing from the ancient playbook of Stratovarius and Sonata Arctica (who were themselves borrowing from the aforementioned playbook at the time). Their unique personality emerges in Thomas Hirvonen’s sardonic riffing in “Dream Away,” in Lauri Nylund’s subtle but effective keyboards in “Losing My Mind,” in the infectious energy of bassist Eero Pakkanen and drummer Matias Rokio throughout, but especially in “Chosen, Corrupt, and Cancerous,” and in Tony Meloni’s singing all the time.

As is typical in power metal, it’s the vocalist who takes up most of the spotlight, and Meloni’s unique style is little exception. I could see his higher register feeling awkward or out of place with the wrong group, but Frozen Land’s songs are very much written for his voice. The bombastic choruses commonly pair him with Nylund’s keys—barely noticeable, but lending him that extra bit of presence to make them shine. He also adds an important element of dynamism to Icemelter, on songs like “Haunted,” which take him from aggressive cleans to a smoother, impassioned chorus that gets stuck in the head, and wouldn’t work nearly so well with a less invested delivery.

The reason I highlight Meloni’s performance isn’t to take away from the rest of Frozen Land at all—as I’ve mentioned, the five work extremely well together to form their modern-yet-nostalgic sound. But if there’s one weakness to Icemelter, it’s that, musically at least, it’s a touch formulaic, due in part to the dated (seeming) inspiration for their material and the style with which they take to it. And, to be clear, none of their material is boring or even the slightest bit un-fun. Hirvonen’s and leads are electric, and “Black Domina” is a great example, but by the time we get there, it’s just starting to feel a bit tired. The good news is that Icemelter is only thirty-six minutes long and so never has a chance to overstay its welcome. On the other hand, when I do dislike a song, as is only the case for the title track (which comes across disjointed in its songwriting and doesn’t quite land for me), it feels like a disproportionately big deal.

Icemelter is a very fun listen. If it’s only flaw is that all the energetic, fun power metal blurs together a bit, I can live with it. Frozen Land being a quintessentially Finnish touch to a classic style, modernizes both it and themselves enough to make a strong impression. As I look back on this review, it occurs to me that it’s a bit short compared to my usual writing here, but that’s kind of the point—Frozen Land’s straightforward, easy approach to a classic style is exactly what makes them so endearing to listen to.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Massacre Records
Websites: facebook.com/frozenlandband
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

The post Frozen Land – Icemelter Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

On that note, I’m having trouble getting this review going because Flames of Heaven really does sound exactly like you might expect given its name, origin, and album photo. Their hallmark: fast, bombastic power metal in the Rhapsody of Fire vein, augmented with keys and arrangements (from Filippini himself), but largely focusing on symphonic/power riffs (Michele Vioni) and high-tenor vocals (Marco Pastorino, Fallen Sanctuary). After a brief orchestral intro track, “On the Wings of Phoenix” sets the stage expertly: the main melody carried by lead guitars in perfect emulation of the impressively catchy chorus, the whole a dedication to adventure, rebirth, and hope. “The Archangel’s Warcry” puts keys at the forefront, creating an epic feel while also boasting one of the most impressive guitar solos on the album. Again, we hear it: a catchy chorus, an upbeat style, a sense of venturing that gets the head nodding even hours later. This is Flames of Heaven’s style, and they’re comfortable in it.

Not that there’s no variety on Symphony of the Universe, though it is a bit sparser than I’d personally prefer. There are straightforward European-style power metal tracks like “Midnight Riders” and “On the Wings of Phoenix,” epics like “The Archangels’ Warcry” and “Symphony of the Universe,” and then traditionally-inspired songs like “Don’t Leave Me Tonight”—the requisite power ballad—and “Tears of Love and Hate.” These songs dial back on the epic fantasy imagery and tread even more familiar roads—love, heartbreak, relationships. The music style similarly changes, dialing back the speed and “power” for a more trad-metal sound (though they do give bassist Giorgio Terenziani a somewhat-rare chance to shine, which is welcome). “When Love Burns” even reminds me of Brother Firetribe, which is not something I say often.

That means there’s a lot going on in Symphony of the Universe. The whole album runs sixty-nine minutes over thirteen tracks, two of which are instrumental bookends. It shifts styles often, though the base formula stays firmly in the “cheesy” Euro-power style. This means it’s a lot to listen to all at once, and I would even suggest that every song could have at least one minute trimmed from it without negatively impacting its quality, and no song over seven minutes needs to be longer than five, especially in “Darkside of Gemini” and “On the Wings of Phoenix.” The number of false stops, “one last chorus” instances, and lengthy interludes add up; I honestly think Symphony of the Universe could be twenty to thirty minutes shorter and better for it, because there wouldn’t be time for ear fatigue to build up. Whether by removing stylistically-clashing songs like “Tears of Love and Hate” (especially jarring, as it follows the monumental “The Archangel’s Warcry”), or cutting down on excess choruses and add-ons at the end of long songs, it seems Flames of Heaven could have edited a lot more of this project than they have.

My feelings for Symphony of the Universe are conflicted: it’s a genuinely fun, catchy album and a reliable, if predictable, sample of modern European power metal. I got the power metal pick-me-up I was hunting for, but there’s simply too much of it—and so much relies on an industry-standard formula. As a whole, Symphony of the Universe splinters under its enormous weight. There’s a great album in here, but the whole feels less than the sum of its parts.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Limb Music
Websites: flamesofheaven.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cristianofilippinisflamesofheaven
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

The post Christiano Filippini’s Flames of Heaven – Symphony of the Universe Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Sunken’s brand of black metal is—still—tricky to describe, but the principal thing to point out about it is that it is deeply mournful. It’s unmistakably black metal, as Joachim Larsen’s blast beats quickly demonstrate. Guitarists Simon Krogh and Alexander Salling seemingly live for the tremolo, both in blackened riffs and melodic leads. But those leads are drenched in despair—”Og Det Er Lykke” is downright depressive, with a heavy backdrop of riffs counterbalanced by a measured lead that oozes melancholy. The song’s climax is an overflow of heartbreaking turmoil, written and performed expertly. There are times, as in opener “Din Roest Malede Farver I Luften,” when Jonas Faghtmann’s bass is carrying the low end by itself, so occupied are the other instruments with higher, more woeful melodies. Put together, and you get Lykke, an album that is powerfully cathartic, with every element working together to share impassioned anger, sorrow, and despair.

In my review for Livslede, I noted that the experience made me feel physically cold, so strong was Sunken’s affinity for baleful, depressive black metal. Lykke doesn’t have quite the same quality, but it does expertly capture a feeling of grief¹—raw and powerful, but also comparatively softer than its predecessor. The stronger use of keys contributes heavily here, as songs like “Glaedesfaerd” demonstrate. Here, they cast a solemn sheen that blankets the heavy, blackened frenzies Sunken have crafted beneath. When Martin Thomasen’s vocal style shifts from shrieks to grieving howls, the music feels unhinged, desolate—but it’s those keys, those orchestral arrangements from Max Uldahl Pedersen, that ground it in the tragic, sorrowful sound Sunken performs so well.

In a practical sense, these trends away from Livslede also mean that Lykke is closer to being atmospheric black metal than depressive black metal. That no song is shorter than ten minutes—and that there are only four of them—makes Lykke feel drawn out, as though lingering in its own despair. Add to that the more prominent orchestrations, and it feels both more melodic and less than Sunken have been in the past. It feels more melodic, because the keys and lead guitars are produced in a way to make them prominent in their melancholy, and less because these choices emphasize individual melodies and hooks less. It feels as though Sunken focused this time on creating experiences over particularly memorable songs and passages. I don’t think there are any specific standout moments, but that does not make the songwriting any less impressive, nor the performances less impactful, though it does make Lykke feel just a little unfocused. Similarly, I also find Thomasen’s forays into raw howled vocals don’t work with this more atmospheric music as well as his “regular” style of snarling, shrieking, and snarling. The switches feel arbitrary, and the former style less effective.

Sunken have an extraordinary way of capturing sadness in their music. Make no mistake, Lykke is a powerful album. There are some choices that I’m not fully sold on, but that’s largely my holding Sunken in such high regard. I’ve really enjoyed Lykke, and am impressed by Sunken’s songwriting, talent, and ability to convey, purely by their music, the way I feel when everything is just sort of bleak.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald Records
Websites: sunkendenmark.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/SunkenDenmark
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

The post Sunken – Lykke Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Fear still sounds like it’s been influenced by the same bands that have been influencing symphonic power metal for the last two decades. My promo sheet even informs me that the music is ideal for fans of Nightwish, Epica, and Visions of Atlantis. So straightaway, you have a good idea of what you’re getting: big orchestrations, operatic flourishes, more focus on keys than guitars. Songs are upbeat, choruses are big, and Eduarda Soeiro’s vocal performance is impressively grand. But I can’t claim Glasya has no clear identity anymore. The fast pace (see “Hunt of the Haunted” and “In Debris”) reminds me of Silver Bullet, and there’s definite aggression to the guitars (Hugo Esteves and Bruno Prates) that gets the head nodding early and often. Davon van Dave’s orchestrations are both more elaborate and dialled back, making them feel better merged with the music. On Fear, Glasya sound more confident and more self-assured than I’ve heard before, and it’s a great change from their debut.

Fear is a concept album that follows a woman confronted by and overcoming her fears, and, unexpectedly, it’s here that I start to find fault. The decision to embed a narrative into the music is a fine one, and one Glasya have employed before, but there are two particular elements of Fear that detract from the experience for me, both of which seem to point back to it being a concept album. The first is the voice acting. Eleven of Fear’s fourteen songs begin with between five and thirty seconds of story in the form of voice acting. Talented musicians our singers may be, but these segments feel cheesy and forced, at best breaking the flow of the songs and at worst being an active distraction. The penultimate scene, in “The Ultimate Challenge,” introduces a new character who heroically sacrifices himself for our protagonist in a moment that could be moving were it not so jarring—or confusing.

The second is the length. With fourteen songs, Fear clocks in at sixty-six minutes, a mighty length that makes the back half feel tired. There just isn’t enough variety in the sound to justify so much music. Further, songs like “Stuck in a Cobweb” feel longer than they need to be, with interludes that slows down otherwise bombastic tracks to enunciate narrative lyrics. For the first half of Fear, I find I’m really enjoying myself, but after a while, the intricate keys start to sound the same, the exciting riffs blend together, and no matter when you check the runtime, there are still somehow five tracks to go. The back half isn’t bad by any stretch—”In a Flooding Room” and “The Cold of Dark” are a particularly effective duo—but it feels weighed down by itself. As it runs on, I notice that Antonio Durães’s bass and Bruno Ramos’s drums are too quiet to lift up “The Ultimate Challenge.” I get to “The Confrontation” and feel like I’ve heard its riff somewhere before. It’s a real shame, too—alone, the material is strong, but it feels like Glasya made decisions in service of their concept that bring the experience down.

There is a very strong 40-minute album in Fear. In fact, if it simply ended with “Rescue,” I think it would be a much better experience. That’s a hard thing to write—we love “less is more” at Angry Metal Guy, but I’m still sad to say that I could have given Glasya a higher score if there was just less of Fear. As is, I can only say that it is an improvement from Heaven’s Demise, that I will be coming back to some isolated tracks, and that I am still eager to hear what this band does next.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Scarlet Records
Websites: scarletrecords.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/GlasyaOfficial
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

The post Glasya – Fear Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The Between follows the progression of Dawnwalker’s sound through House of Sand and The Unknowing, with elements of progressive, post, and folk metal, and influence from New Age. It meditates on the processes of death and dying, taking inspiration from Eastern philosophies. In this theme, it opens slowly and quietly: “Listen carefully,” we are told; “There is nothing to fear.” As The Between progresses, the protagonist walks a long road, and Dawnwalker follows, with everything from ethereal choral work (Sofia Sourianou), quiet introspective guitars (Matteo Bianciotto), and Norgate’s soulful singing to the blackened death frenzy in part four.¹ Oli Genn-Bash’s saxophone is an unexpected hero, creating quiet, warm, and otherworldly ambience in part two. For the heavier moments, the return of Dane Cross as a harsh vocalist is welcome throughout. Standout moments include Norgate and Sourianou’s call-and-repeat singing in part eleven, the duet between Norgate and Cross in part three, and Alexander Brown’s terrific guitar solo that closes out part thirteen.

There’s a lot of ground to cover over the course of the thirty-two minutes, but The Between is filled with natural transitions and logical direction. Certainly, there are single-song albums that feel like they could have track breaks,² but the progressive nature of Dawnwalker’s music is strong enough that this only really happens once, in part nine. The ebb and flow is impressive; part seven is a grinding march, where growling and screaming duel off, guitars chugging away, and builds in intensity. Part eight then dials back on the metal significantly, letting Norgate’s vocal melodies carry the day. The New Age influence is growing stronger, and there’s a lovely callback to The Unknowing³. This in turn, is a great transition into part nine, filled with dreamy ambience before the song picks up again. This helps The Between to feel like it actually is one song, or, at most, a single song in two parts.

Although The Between succeeds at feeling like a single song, it doesn’t quite reach the level of feeling like a complete album—though it comes very close. There are enough cool ideas, themes, and motifs throughout to fill out an album, but the way they’re cut and fit together means some don’t get to breathe the way they might have otherwise. The closest thing “The Between” has to a chorus, for example, is in part three, a gorgeous earworm of a passage that repeats once and never shows its face again. In part fourteen, the narrator begins to fade from us. Thematically, it’s a natural way to close things out, but it’s also drawn out in a way that only really works before there’s been so much build-up. As a result, “The Between” feels like it might have been a twenty-eight-minute song padded out to complete its identity as an album. This is ultimately not a big deal—thirty-two minutes is very succinct for a metal album—but it does take away a little bit of impact.

Writing a half-hour song in any context is a mighty undertaking, and it’s impressive how well Norgate and Dawnwalker pull it off on The Between. The music feels organic, the themes are relevant, and the execution is very good. This is one of those albums that rewards repeat listens and draws you in more than you realize at first glance. Dawnwalker is having an impressive run of late, and The Between confidently continues their trajectory.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Independent Release
Websites: dawnwalker.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/dawnwalkeruk
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

The post Dawnwalker – The Between Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

At first, it’s a little hard to tell, because Coastlands opens fairly quietly. There’s a distorted haze, a creeping, building tune on the keys, and some distant vocals. Here and there, a blast emerges from the gloom—a synth hit here, a crash there—but the whole is static and fog and it’s hard to tell exactly what you’re in for. That’s opener “See,” but it’s ironically the follower, “Hollowing,” that provides clarity. Far more “musical,” “Hollowing” builds on the Coastlands sound, a huge, distorted creature of post-metal with hardcore influence and an atmospheric fog that often erupts with intense passages of screaming and anger. Between these moments, synths, guitars, and plaintive, post-esque clean singing keep a balance. In this way, Coastlands is an album that doesn’t fully commit to either side of the post-metal pendulum. It is plaintive, raging, expansive, and straightforward, all at once.

It is also dense—very, very dense. Practically every instrument is heavily distorted or wet. The guitars in particular are so much so as to make individual riffs nearly indiscernible, and the bass has a similar treatment—it may as well be a second guitar for how much presence it has. Every hit on the snare drum reverberates (probably too much, but it is in line with the rest of the music). The piano is the only instrument really spared this treatment, I imagine, to make it stand out more against the harsher elements of Coastlands’s music. Even so, they echo, and the synths on the other side crackle with the rest. The result is that if you aren’t paying close attention, the songs start to blur together. “Neverhere” can easily pass you by if you’re not watching out for it, despite its comparatively uplifting vocal melodies. Speaking of vocals, the promo material for Coastlands implies this is the first of Coastlands’s music to feature vocals. Unsurprisingly, the vocals, screams, and cleans are also heavily distorted and produced (respectively), but they’re also so low in the mix—and fighting against so many loud instruments—that it’s hard to hear them, screams and all.

I find Coastlands hard to properly immerse myself in, and I’ve largely covered the reasons—an overbearing production and heavy use of distortion that makes the music difficult to follow. It’s not particularly melodic, though it has its moments (the plaintive picking in “Drugblood” is nice). It doesn’t make me feel contemplative, cathartic, or particularly angry. I do get the sense that it has layers, but they’re so hard to pick up on that they don’t end up doing much. “Vessels” is a song with a lot of components, but not a lot happens. It’s got a cool post-metal drive towards the end, but the fuzz that backs it up suffocates it. “Mors” is largely a repetition of the same motif on keys, but it doesn’t build to anything, doesn’t go anywhere. And it’s frustrating, not just because the album is advertised as being “intricately layered and dense,” but because I believe it probably is and have no way to prove the theory.

In the promo copy for Coastlands, the author says it “keeps revealing its secrets even after multiple, attentive listens.” I agree with this—the more I listen to it, the more I notice about it. Unfortunately, I still haven’t heard its heart. Coastlands feels to me like an album betrayed by its production and robbed by its master. The intense distortion covers the guitars, the synths, and the passion I know the members of Coastlands have for their craft. I believe it’s here, but I can’t hear it.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Translation Loss
Websites: coastlands.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/coastlandsofficial
Releases Worldwide: October 10th, 2025

The post Coastlands – Coastlands Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Certainly not the latter; Lifeblood is a very lively album, upbeat and intricate with many layers to explore. Compared with Worlds Within, it feels like Weinroth-Browne has placed a greater emphasis on “roles.” As it progresses, you almost get the sense that there is a “lead/vocalist” Raphael Weinroth-Browne on cello, a rhythm Weinroth-Browne on cello, a bass Weinroth-Browne on cello, and a percussion Weinroth-Browne on cello. The four Weinroths-Browne build upon each other’s work, taking simple ideas and layering them upon each other until the whole transcends its basic components. The titanic “Ophidian” does this extremely well. For nearly nine minutes, it tells largely the same story—but beneath the surface, the bass Weinroth-Browne is building to an anxious crescendo, the rhythm Weinroth-Browne is weaving a tapestry, and the lead Weinroth-Browne is practically singing through his cello, with all the passion and inflection you’d expect from an actual singer. Of course, there is no singer—Lifeblood is purely instrumental—but it does not need one.

Last year, I had the unexpected pleasure to see Musk Ox live in concert, where they performed Inheritance—my 2021 album of the year!—in full. At the time, I was struck by just how much better Weinroth-Browne’s cello sounds live. It’s a rich, expansive, expressive instrument and, despite how amazing Worlds Within sounds, I’ve felt it missed some of that low-end power that gives the cello its majesty. Lifeblood seems to address this thought. It has a richer sound than its predecessor and a mighty low end. Weinroth-Browne’s influence from metal rears its head on songs like “Lifeblood” and “Possession,” where he treats his (“bass”) cello like a guitar, utilizing what are essentially power chords to give the songs weight. On “Nethereal” and “Labyrinthine,” he goes a little lighter, but the influence is still there; the former is a slow build to an electric payoff, while the latter leans lighter and more excitable; “Labyrinthine’s” layers build with fun, lively backdrops that give the song a journeying feel. It’s not “cello metal” like Apocalyptica; Rather, Weinroth-Browne’s fusion of classical and metal themes is expert enough to feel like it isn’t overtly one or the other.

Like most classically-inspired instrumental albums, Lifeblood is best experienced as a whole and can be thought of as a journey. This is its greatest strength, and I imagine for some will be its primary drawback. Indeed, I find it difficult to just sit down and play “Labyrinthine;” on its own, it’s a good song, but may feel a bit long or a bit much. But start with the opener “Lifeblood,” and it draws you in. It begins in a similar vein to Worlds Within, but quickly establishes its own identity. It does a great job of luring the listener into Lifeblood, and flows naturally into “Possession,” and from there into “Ophidian,” and so on. With that said, I do think Lifeblood is a touch long—and front-loaded. After the gorgeous “Pyre,” Lifeblood’s best songs—to my ears, at least—are behind it, which makes the near-hour-long runtime feel like a bit much. It’s never bad in any sense, but with so many paths to traverse, it does feel a little lost by the end.

But only a little—I can’t stress enough that Lifeblood is a fantastic musical journey that establishes Weinroth-Browne as a supremely talented composer, cellist, and musician. It is a rare album, one that rewards multiple listens, evokes myriad emotions, and creates a lasting impression. It really is remarkable. Who needs a band when you have an army of Raphael Weinroth-Browne?

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self-release
Websites: raphaelweinroth-browne.bandcamp.com | raphaelweinrothbrowne.com | facebook.com/raphcello
Releases Worldwide: October 3rd, 2025

The post Raphael Weinroth-Browne – Lifeblood Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.