I’ve long been a fan of blackened speed (speedened black?¹) metal, with some of my favorite releases over the past few years falling into this most ferocious of subgenres. Bavaria’s own

For the uninitiated, Blackevil churns out a potent blend of melodic black metal and savage speed metal, interspersed with glimmering veins of thrash and traditional heavy metal for good measure. There are Iron Maiden-inspired gallops and searing solos, a crispy char of tremolos and blast beats, and a thick layer of blackened melody, with plenty of infernal shrieks to spare. But what’s perhaps most notable about their latest outing is just how much speed metal Blackevil have excised from the sound, opting instead for increasingly epic, mid-paced arrangements. This change more than any other sets Praise the Communion Fire for the Unhallowed Sacrament apart from Forever Baptised in Eternal Fire, and it’s a creative decision that has a dramatic impact on the entire album as a result.

Praise the Communion Fire for the Unhallowed Sacrament kicks off with “Timeless Throne,” a workhorse of an opening track if there ever was one, setting the tone for what ends up being a pretty consistent release. “Timeless Throne” boasts decent riffs, a reliably impressive vocal performance by frontman and bassist Abyss, and an overall approach that is neither flashy nor bold, but serves as an effective introduction to Blackevil’s sulfurous waters. The remaining six tracks each possess their own attention-grabbing characteristics, even if they are all variations of a theme. There are the pugnacious, harder-edged tracks with just the right amount of pummeling speed (“Divine Forces,” “The Gladiator”), mixed in between the more atmospheric tunes that prize mood over ferocity (“Beneath this Pentagram,” “Praise the Fire for the Sacrament”). These tonal shifts notwithstanding, it’s very clear that Blackevil is intent on streamlining their sound this time, and it’s a gutsy gamble that doesn’t always pay off.

This new streamlined sound is perhaps best embodied in Praise the Communion Fire for the Unhallowed Sacrament’s closing track “Towards the Carpathian Winter Battle,” a title Abbath is already kicking himself for not using. This nearly 11-minute behemoth features moody orchestration, trudging riffs, acoustics, and a build that never quite delivers. It’s a well-constructed, well-performed piece of music that nevertheless overstays its welcome while also lacking much of the essential dynamism that made Blackevil’s second album such an idolatrous joy to behold. It seems that in their eagerness to grow beyond the confines established by Forever Baptised in Eternal Fire, the band cast off much of the energy and immediacy that first set them apart. The feeling of homogeneity is further pronounced due to some unfortunate bloat. While this album and Forever Baptised in Eternal Fire both clock in at about 45 minutes, Praise the Communion Fire for the Unhallowed Sacrament is two tracks shorter. The result is a significantly weaker musical approach that can’t quite support the weight of longer songs.

If my criticisms seem unduly harsh, it’s important to mention that Praise the Communion Fire for the Unhallowed Sacrament remains an enjoyable, albeit flawed, listen (spin the penultimate track “Unknown Hands” if you don’t believe me). Because I know how capable Blackevil is of delivering the goods, I come away more frustrated than anything with this new musical direction. While I can’t fault a band for attempting to grow creatively, it’s unfortunate that in doing so, Blackevil felt the need to jettison so much of what made the band unique. Is the sound on Praise the Communion Fire for the Unhallowed Sacrament so dramatically different from Forever Baptised in Eternal Fire? On its face, no. But what was eliminated I’d deem essential, and dolling out a rating without considering that context seems borderline sacrilegious. May Holdeneye forgive me.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: dyingvictimsproductions.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/blackevilmetal
Releases Worldwide: October 25th, 2024

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While they’re billed as a death metal act, I’d classify Defiled’s latest effort as technical thrash, with doses of OSDM and more hardcore punk than I was expecting. They say as much in the promo material, referring to themselves as the “indestructible behemoth” of the Japanese scene, with “old school roots” and drive by “the twisted wreckage of technical thrash and progressive rock innovation.” This is a pretty accurate assessment, as there are plenty of examples of these genres all over Horror beyond Horror. However, I think I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention the Ulcerate-esque levels of dissonance or the injection of hardcore into what was already a heady mix. The result? A brief, brash album that succeeds in grabbing your attention in the moment but ultimately fails to remain memorable from track to track.

I had a lot of fun listening to Horror beyond Horror, and I bobbed my head and grimaced in delight throughout its 41 minutes. But once it ended, I realized I couldn’t recall much of anything beyond vague impressions of intermingled songs, a conclusion that held even after multiple spins. The opening track “Smoke and Mirrors” immediately delivers the dissonance, along with the first of many tastes of brutish, sneering punk. By the third track “Syndicate,” however, all the progressive, hardcore, thrash, and death influences can’t hide the fact that individual tunes run together. Case(s) in point: “Demagogue” delivers a killer guitar solo I can only describe as “wirey,” while “Spectrum of Fear” boasts a big, thick death metal riff; “The Crook and the Flail” features synths that lend the song a welcome, ominous atmosphere and it’s impossible not to enjoy the scratchy, gnarly guitar tone on “Replicator Dynamics.” Each of these moments is standout, but appearing as they do amidst a sea of fun yet forgettable tunes, their impact, and the impact of the album as a whole, is blunted as a result.

As with previous albums, Defiled’s production decisions undermine Horror beyond Horror as a whole. Shinichiro Hamada has a solid thrashy bark, but his vocals are so startlingly high in the mix that it’s often hard to focus on anything else. Similarly, while frenetic drummer Keisuke Hamada delivers my favorite performance on the album, the percussion is mixed so loud that the vocals and the drums often feel like they’re competing for attention, leaving the guitar, and to a greater extent the bass, to toil away in muddy obscurity. The final nail in Horror beyond Horror’s coffin, though, is the nagging impression that the vocals never fully mesh with the music. It’s as if the two were intentionally recorded in separate studios and then combined, months later, by a disinterested sound technician. That’s certainly not the case, but such hyperbole is just indicative of the disjointed nature of Defiled’s eighth outing.

I was excited to review Horror beyond Horror, and even after delivering a low score, I still contend that it’s a fun record. But after the album’s final, abrupt note, I come away with very little to show for my experience, and that’s a disappointment. I would suggest Horror beyond Horror is an album best consumed not as a work with distinct tracks, but instead as a long, highly technical, largely imperfect tune. It won’t change any of the significant missteps, but it will improve the overall experience. I still believe Defiled has the raw potential for another 4.0, and I hope that whoever reviews their next release has the honor of doling out such a score.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: defiledjapan.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/defiledjapan
Releases Worldwide: September 20th, 2024

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I have a complicated relationship with

Well, it’s certainly not what I had hoped for. Wormwitch proved on Heaven That Dwells Within that they have the ability, both as players and songwriters, to deliver high-quality melodic black metal that remains memorable without overstaying its welcome; that incorporates elements of death metal, speed metal, crust, hard rock, and even folk without ever losing its essential, blackened edge; that weaves moving, melodic passages in-between ice-caked sheets of snarling brutality. And while Wolf Hex lacked much of the immediacy found on HTDW, it was still clear that Wormwitch were able to keep their creative spark alive, if somewhat dimmed. On Wormwitch, though, it sounds as if that once impressive flame is guttering, and threatening to go out entirely.

Sometimes this brand of all-encompassing criticism takes a few listens before it fully forms in your mind. But on Wormwitch, the problems are evident from the very first track. “Fugitive Serpent” is loud, blackened bombast revealing an utterly forgettable opener. Follow up tune “Envenomed” could have easily been titled “Fugitive Serpent 2,” doubling down as it does on unrelenting walls-of-sound, augmented vox buried too low in the mix, and a seeming disinterest in lingering too long on any passage, moment or interlude that runs the risk of holding the listener’s attention. As the album expands, so do these issues. Fourth track “Inner War” offers a bit more variety, including an attention-grabbing acoustic intro and a head-bobbing black n’ roll riff near the conclusion that helps bookend yet another forgettable heap of black metal bluster. Back half cuts like “Godmaegen” may boast an engaging, moody interlude between grungy guitar and wheezing bass, “Salamander” may deliver the sparse melancholy that Wormwitch used to such great effect on HTDW, and penultimate tune “Bright and Poisonous” might be where the band decided to toss many of their good ideas, but none of these brief moments are enough to save this album from what it truly is.

Which is what, exactly? To this lowly reviewer, Wormwitch’s self-titled fourth album is less a cohesive work and more a series of brickwalled black metal tropes, loosely held together by flickering, fleeting moments of inspiration. And much like a creaking discount Ferris wheel, this clunker threatens to collapse under the weight of its own hubris. In many ways, Wormwitch feels like the product of a band that is actively devolving before our eyes. While their second album is a mature, memorable slice of genre-hopping ferocity that thoughtfully balances mood, atmosphere and heaviness, their fourth outing is almost the polar opposite, dispensing with nuance in favor of regurgitated second-wave worship. Gone is the finely-tuned songwriting, replaced instead with an “all gas, no brakes” approach you’d expect from a group of untested upstarts, not musicians almost a decade into their career.

After taking such a long break from my reviewing duties, this isn’t the piece I’d hoped to produce upon my return. I want to like what Wormwitch does because I so loved what they’ve done in the past. So perhaps this is simply a case of unfair expectations. But I don’t think so; what appeared to be a bug on Wolf Hex appears to be a feature on Wormwitch, and that’s the unfortunate reality. The promo materials accompanying the album proclaims that this is “a statement of a band coming into its own,” and while I can’t fault musicians for seeking to develop their sound, I can certainly fault the result. Wormwich, it would appear I hardly knew ye.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Profound Lore Records
Websites: wormwitch.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/wormwitchofficial
Releases Worldwide: July 26th, 2024

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Ah,

Well, it’s nearly impossible to top 2007’s Theogonia, which, rightly or wrongly, is my basis of measurement for a Rotting Christ album. Not that I came into this expecting that exact same brand of ferocity or immediacy. Bands evolve, and Rotting Christ are no exception. Brothers Sakis and Themis Tolis remain the creative force here, and in recent years, they’ve settled into a more or less predictable groove; one which dispenses with much of their earlier, blackened fervor, in favor of more majestic melodies and gothic elements. That isn’t a bad thing, and there’s certainly something to be said for a band with as much history as Rotting Christ finding comfort down different musical avenues. On Pro Xristou, however, it would appear this comfort had bred complacency.

I don’t think the good Brothers Tomis took time to read Grymm’s grim review of their 2019 album The Heretics. Or if they did, they chose to ignore it. Many of the same issues that Grymm outlined continue to plague Pro Xristou, and none of them have grown any less troubling in the intervening years. Brief intro “Pro Xristou” and follow up “The Apostate” start off promising enough, with mid-paced chuggery, enveloping chants, RC’s trademark spoken word sections, and emotive solos that rise high above the din. But by third track “Like Father, Like Son,” things start to feel a bit repetitive. And by the fourth track “The Sixth Day,” it’s clear things just don’t feel repetitive, they are repetitive. Save for a few choice tunes (“La Lettera Del Diavolo,” “Yggdrasil”) the vast majority of the album adopts a singular, shallow framing; Tone, tempo, and timbre are both monotonous and uninspired. Even a track like “The Farewell,” which opens with an unexpected, pugnacious riff and a deep, bellowing chant quickly falls into what must be the Rotting Christ algorithmic song generator: grandiose opening devolving into a mid-paced chug, push the “maudlin solo” button, speak a phrase or two, cue recycled choral track and synths, rise to a crescendo that threatens satisfaction without ever delivering it. Rinse. Repeat. In his The Heretics review, Grymm wrote, “There is nothing on here that builds up, hits its stride, and explodes in a powder keg of glory…” And sadly, this is just as true on Pro Xristou.

But why? Why would a band that helped develop and popularize the warm, ferocious sounds of Hellenic Black metal continue to churn out such low-energy, mundane efforts? I wrote earlier that comfort can breed complacency, and I think that may also be true for the musicians you work with. While Rotting Christ have undergone multiple lineup changes, the Tolis Brothers have remained the stalwarts, driving the band’s direction since its founding in 1987. Now, with so many years as an established duo under their belts and with their roles and responsibilities so firmly entrenched, is it really a surprise that Rotting Christ have found themselves in a creative rut?

Pro Xristou is not a bad album, but it feels phoned in. It’s far from poorly performed, yet it feels passionless. Taken individually, almost any track will get your head bopping and your fist pumping. The problem, you quickly realize, is that once you’ve heard one track, you’ve more or less heard them all. This is not a new problem, nor am I the first AMG reviewer to point it out. So instead, I will offer some constructive criticism: in the face of creative stagnation, it never hurts to invite good-faith challenges to a long-held artistic vision; to internalize said feedback and hopefully arrive at a better way forward. After all, retreading old ground isn’t what first endeared Rotting Christ to their fans, and it certainly shouldn’t be how they choose to embrace the back half of their storied career.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: instagram.com/rottingchristofficial | rottingchrist.bandcamp.com/album/pro-xristou
Releases Worldwide: May 24th, 2024

Iceberg

At what point in a long-running band’s career does one stop comparing them to their younger, wilder roots and begin viewing them through a new lens? Can a band ever escape the sound that made them turn heads in the first place? These are just a few of the questions posed when another Rotting Christ album bubbles up from the sump. After back to back disappointments, Ser Grymm has fulfilled his blood oath to the Greeks; it now falls to less scarred staffers to carry the Hellenic Flame. After 14 albums and a trajectory encompassing grind, black, and symphonic metal, latest effort Pro Xristou looks to further position Rotting Christ at the vanguard of modern metal. Have they emerged from their blackened ashes a triumphant phoenix? Or is this just another uninspired entry in the morass of Arena-Oriented Rock?

The Tolis Brothers need little introduction here; they’ve been peddling their epic, blackened sound longer than some of the AMG staff have been alive. After the undeniable highlight of 2007’s Theogonia, the band steadily swapped razor-sharp black metal for a more pared down—but still menacing—melodic metal sound. Pro Xristou, or “Before Christ,” features much fans will recognize from Rituals and The Heretics: chuggy riffs from Sakis and minimalist drum patterns from his brother Themis with the occasional blast beat and tremolo making an appearance. If anything the bombastic orchestrals that are Rotting Christ’s calling card steal the show here. Pro Xristou is more firmly rooted in an AOR sound than ever before, and while this feels like the band has found surer footing, the near-total abandonment of the black metal sound carries a hefty price.

There’s no denying Pro Xristou sounds epic and mighty; indeed, most of its positive qualities are derived from this fact. Sakis has settled firmly in the role of vocalist-as-narrator, with fewer growls than on any recent album I can remember. His weapon of choice is a snarling, spoken drone, thick with his native accent (“Like Father, Like Son,” “The Sixth Day”). Melody is relegated chiefly to the lead guitars; soaring, arching melodic lines reminiscent of Insomnium or The Flesh Prevails-era Fallujah are quite catchy and anchor certain tracks (“The Apostate,” “The Sixth Day,” “Saoirse”). Rhythmic urgency is rare, but when it does pop up it offers a glimpse into what the band can do when firing on all cylinders (“La Lettera Del Diavolo,” “Yggdrasil”). Veteran engineer Jens Borgren still handles the mix on Pro Xristou, and I’ll admit this sounds roomier and more balanced than the previous two albums. But with such omnipresent, theatrical arrangements, there’s only so much post-production can do.

The unfortunate truth about Pro Xristou is that the bulk of the music on here sounds—for lack of a better word—cookie-cutter. Album opener “Pro Xristou” sets an apocalyptic scene with chants and marching rhythms, and the blasting-down-the-doors of “The Apostate” hints at a rejuvenated sound. But the songs that follow are a collection of mid-tempo dad-rock anthems, and this template comprises the bulk of the album (“Like Father, Like Son,” “Farewell”). Some of the structures here become so painfully simple, songs are comprised of only two riffs (“Pix, Lax, Dax”). There’s also the curious, and alarming, case for self-plagiarism here. The blasting that opens “The Apostate” feels lifted directly from The Heretics’ “Dies Irae.” Album highlight “La Lettera Del Diavolo” features rabid, spoken female vocals very much in the spirit of “Elthe Kyrie,” but feels like a pantomime of that masterful composition. While I do applaud Sakis’ use of storytelling in some of these tracks (“The Apostate,” “Saoirse”) they are in the minority, and the narration doesn’t bring enough teeth to this defanged version of Rotting Christ to hold my interest for repeat listens.

I’m committed to staying on the positive side of this situation. While I think 2024 Rotting Christ is finding a surer footing in their modern metal sound, the music just doesn’t seem to be at the level a band of this pedigree should be attaining. The compositions are strikingly similar, in both the riffs and the rhythms. The melodies don’t have quite enough variance to color each song differently, and the vocals are begging for some real tension and release, worthy of the name of Rotting Christ. All this gives the impression of a band going through the motions, and while there are glimmers of hope on Pro Xristou, I can’t see myself returning to this album all that much.

Rating: 2.0/5.0

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I’m a sucker for a gnarly album cover. Give me a detailed image of a zombie, ghoul or otherwise undead creature holding a bladed instrument for use in committing appalling acts, and I’m a happy guy. It was this passion for putridity that led me to choose

Carnal Savagery are nothing if not grimy n’ gratuitous, and that’s exactly what I was hoping for. They traffic in a pungently pleasant, meat-and-potatoes style of OSDM (a similar point the Good Lord Steel made in his review of the band’s fourth outing in 2022), overflowing with guts, gore, filthy guitar tones, crunchy riffs, beastly grooves, and inhumane snarls. Is it any surprise these Swedish carnal savages kneel and worship at the combined altars of Dismember and Entombed? One of the more interesting aspects of Into the Abysmal Void is the light layer of blackened char that crusts over this death metal behemoth’s scarred hide. Vocalist Mattias Lilja’s vox are a bit higher pitched and dynamic than your average OSDM growler, and the guitar is muddy while still maintaining a dangerous, highly-honed edge. Taken together, these elements result in an album that, much like a Bowie knife duct taped to a sledgehammer, both pummels and slices.

The first track is called “Defleshing The Bones.” What more do I need to say? This is a buzzy, bloody, and brief OSDM onslaught with a memorable chorus to boot (albeit just a hearty repetition of the song title). It’s also a perfect roadmap for the rest of Into the Abysmal Void. You get plenty of frenetic blast-beats, screaming solos, and a guitar that should be legally required to have “The Saw Is Family” inlaid on fretboard (thank you, Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, for making that tortured reference possible). “Stench of Burnt Decay” slices through your eardrum with crunchy, eviscerating riffs, as does the mutilating maelstrom that is “Reek of Decomposing Flesh.” At the same time, Carnal Savagery are more than willing to slow things down, building atmosphere and crushing you beneath more unbearable heaviness than Giles Corey. “Morbid Death” is a true groove fest that weds sparse drumming with plodding, hefty riffing. “Column of Maggots,” which wins the award for best song title, leans into that doomy groove, while also throwing in some ominous keys that establish a perfect, unsettling tone and serve as the ideal setup for the return of a grimy, Swedeath adrenaline surge.

Where Carnal Savagery fall a bit short on Into the Abysmal Void is their overreliance on repetition. While there’s no bad song on the album, there are certainly ones that tend to drag, especially on the back half, and I chalk most of that up to too much emphasis on the band’s established songwriting structure. By the time you’ve gotten to the seventh song “The Revenant,” you realize it sounds a lot like the previous tune “Choked to Death.” And while the deathened charm is still there, it’s not quite strong enough to make you forget that even fun filler is still filler. Add in the nit-picky observation that nearly every chorus is simply the song title emphatically growled several times, and it’s clear that while repetition is a generally effective part of Into the Abysmal Void’s formula, Carnal Savagery could stand to shake things up a bit more.

The term “Meat and potatoes” seems to have garnered a negative connotation, and that’s a shame. I used it earlier in this review, and I meant it as a genuine compliment. The idea, as far as I see it, is that something doesn’t have to reinvent the wheel to be engaging and enjoyable. Sometimes comfortable, straightforward and reliable is good. And for us unwashed miscreants, old school death metal is just that. Despite some of its issues, Carnal Savagery’s latest is honest to goodness meat and potatoes, and for that, I give thanks. I’ll happily clean my plate and go back for seconds, just do me a favor and don’t tell me where this slab o’ protein came from.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Moribund Records
Websites: carnalsavagery.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/carnalsavagery
Releases Worldwide: January 26th, 2024

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I just couldn’t turn down an album by a band called

Some of my favorite tech death albums from recent years strike a key balance: they’re able to whip plenty of technical wizardry at the listener without sacrificing emotion, accessibility, or (just a drop or two) of melody. Groups like Carnosus, Archspire, Obscura and a host of others have found success (in my own bold estimation) by implementing this approach to varying degrees. Neurectomy certainly whip technical wizardry at the listener, bouncing as they do from one skillful, mind-bending solo to another. The problem is that Neurectomy were so focused on reaching such lofty heights of proficiency that they forgot to make actual, memorable songs. Why write a compelling riff when you can toss in another squealing, lightning-fast solo? Why leave room for an atmospheric interlude when you can delve into another whirlwind of impressive, soulless guitar noodling? If this sounds harsh, it’s because I know Neurectomy can write more balanced songs, they just chose not to.

Case in point: album opener “Abducted for Research” kicks off in a grimy, fetid fashion before finding a wonky, almost dissonant groove that immediately grabbed my attention. Unfortunately, this interesting groove is quickly abandoned in favor of less memorable, speed-demon technicality. It returns again near the end of the track, but is once more unceremoniously replaced by more “look what I can do!” guitar work. Following track “Culinary Cadaveric Art” also hints at Neurectomy’s ability to compose music beyond an array of bright n’ shiny solos. This tune features a big, thick riff that caused my ears to perk up. Could they be going in a different direction? Are we going to get more than undeniably proficient but utterly unmoving musicianship? No. The aforementioned big, thick riff disappears almost as quickly as it arrives, to be replaced by a brief bass solo and more gratuitous guitar wankery.

And it’s here, after only two tracks, that Overwrought truly devolves into flamboyant futility. The band Rush have an instrumental tune entitled “La Villa Strangiato” from 1978 that has a particularly apt subtitle: “An Exercise in Self-Indulgence.” And that’s what the following 6 songs feel like to these battered eardrums: a 32-minute opportunity to prove to the listener just how talented these musicians are. I cannot deny that the oddly-named track “Dolphin” features a stellar opening that feels like you’re being sucked into a black hole. I will gladly report that mid-album number “Zombified” includes an unexpected, jazz-tinged section. And I’ll happily exclaim that closer “Crimson Tsunami” flirts with an honest-to-goodness riff as well as a slower, more moody interlude (featuring a solo, of course). But all of these brief, shining moments are merely minor exceptions that prove the rule. Add in percussive, deathened growls that only serve to further punctuate this dizzying display, and you’re left with an album that, like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, is plenty shiny but has no heart to speak of.

Sometimes an album isn’t bad because the band aren’t talented, but because technical prowess becomes the sole marker for success. If we were to award Neurectomy points for stellar musicianship, the score below would indeed be a lot higher. It’s not that what they’ve produced is unlistenable; far from it. But it’s also painfully forgettable. It’s mad scramble to produce more squealing notes, more solos capped off by more pitch harmonics is impressive, but it’s also excessive. Perhaps I find this slab all the more frustrating because it’s clear Neurectomy are capable of finding humanity amidst the wizardry, they just refused to go that route. And the result? A debut that is overindulgent, overproduced, and exceedingly Overwrought.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: Best Guess | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: neurectomy.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/neurectomy
Releases Worldwide: November 17th, 2023

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Ah,

Lucifer loves the 70s. From the very first riff to the closing chord, it’s clear that the shift from melodic, thick-riffed doom to more traditional, slightly-psychedelic hard rock that started on Lucifer II has continued, unabated. Ferrous made a similar point in his review, but the difference here is that while the band’s original artistic vision was more in line with the retro-rock sound they’ve now fully embraced, their latest outing finds them leaning just the slightest bit into that original, rumbling heft that first grabbed the attention of so many listeners. Occult rock, meanwhile, still makes up a large part of Lucifer’s infernal DNA, with plenty of Blue Öyster Cult on display, along with a dollop or two of Coven. But more often than not, you’re hearing echoes of Kiss and Heart, the latter thanks primarily to Anderson’s tour de force performance. The result?

A solid, enjoyable album, that’s what; an occult rock excursion that features the kind of well-trod licks, howls, and solos you’d expect to hear on your local classic rock radio station, but with just enough big riffs and witchy atmosphere to get your fist pumping and your bell bottoms a’waftin’. Opener “Fallen Angel” wastes no time in revealing its sordid set of influences, kicking off with a “Tush” era ZZ Top riff that’s both catchy and fun. Follow-up “At the Mortuary” is probably my favorite of the bunch, given its ominous opening, all-too-brief doomy trudge, and catchy, Ghost-esque chorus. The Lynyrd Skynyrd-inflected riffing caught me off guard, but it pairs well with Andersson’s impressive vocal delivery. While her Dinah Lance-level of vocal power is well-known, it’s in her more restrained moments that Andersson has the most impact. Her sultry croons, for instance, are the perfect compliment to the plaintive keys and emotive solo on “Slow Dance in a Crypt,” which evokes the immortal “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You.”

Unfortunately, Lucifer’s infatuation with the 70s is often taken too far, resulting in songs like “Ride the Reaper,” “A Coffin Has No Silver Lining” and “Strange Sister” that are catchy and fun, but don’t quite distinguish themselves beyond Andersson’s enviable vocal prowess. These tunes aren’t bad, they’re just borderline bland. And coming from a group with the proven ability to write songs that both harken back while pressing forward, I was hoping for more than nostalgia bait when I cranked Lucifer V. This is compounded by instances in otherwise good songs like “The Dead Don’t Speak” and “Slow Dance in a Crypt,” which repeatedly threaten to veer into doomy territory without ever fully committing. Just as these tracks are about to take a slightly heavier (perhaps even logical) turn, they’re suddenly yanked back and sternly reminded that guitars didn’t sound like that in the 1970s.

If I sound unnecessarily harsh, it’s because while I enjoyed and recommend Lucifer V, I can envision the stronger album Lucifer could have produced had they been more willing to embrace just a bit more of their original sound; a sound they flirt with time and time again. There’s no doubt the band is plenty satisfied with the musical direction they’ve taken, yearning as they do for a bygone era. But me? I wouldn’t mind a simple return to 2015.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: luciferofficial.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/lucifertheband
Releases Worldwide: January 26th, 2024

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Another month, another very late Felagund review. It turns out starting and running your own business requires a lot of work. But let’s dispense with the excuses, shall we? We have important things to discuss. Namely,

Knife have done what many bands refuse to do: grow. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still heaps of Motörhead and Venom worship; plenty of gang chants and blackened vocals; oodles of speed metal chugging, heavy metal galloping, and thrash riffing; almost everything endearing about their debut still applies here and the changes are relatively minor, but they’re impactful. And taken together, they result in an album that’s more rewarding than I expected. It’s also why I chose to forge ahead with the review, despite my unforgivable tardiness. You see, in my early days of AMG lurking, I most appreciated the writers who willingly returned every few years to review the latest release from the same group. After all, who better to dole out an informed score than the unlucky scribe who’d committed themselves to documenting a single band’s successes and failures? It was with this lofty goal (and the fear of Steel) that I continued my Heaven into Dust review.

So what changes have Knife made? What hath two years wrought? On Heaven into Dust, we meet a band who’ve chosen to keep the olde metal chuggery while amping up the technicality. And they’re able to do that without succumbing to that most dastardly of all musical sins: bloat. Album opener “Hawks of Hades” bounces between different speeds and tones, taking its foot off the gas in all the right places without losing momentum. “Night Vision” follows up with an Iron Maiden bass gallop that’s capped off by a buzzy solo. Two songs in, and it’s already clear Knife made a concerted effort to hone their musicianship and songwriting chops, lending more dynamism than was present on their debut. “With Torches They March” introduces us to the slower side of Knife and further proof of the band’s willingness to expand their sound. Indeed, Knife happily jump from blackened speed to hard rock to heavy metal to hardcore punk seamlessly, lending even some of the less engaging tracks their own character. This approach is perhaps most apparent on closing tune “No Gods in the Dark,” which kicks off with plenty of rollicking speed metal and a shouted chorus before delving into an unexpected interlude, featuring double bass over some choice four-string plucking and a slower, more melodic riff.

Yet for all of these strengths, Knife unearthed an unexpected weakness. When they embraced musical growth, they also happened to sacrifice just a touch of that immediacy that so gripped me on their first album. This is hardly a deal breaker, and I dare not fault a band for evolving into a better version of themselves. But there’s a middle ground that could have been reached here; one that displayed their technical prowess and growing dynamism while still holding onto enough of that raw, brash quality that addled my child-like brain. Picky? Perhaps. But the point stands because I’m also convinced Knife have everything they need to find that balance.

As late as this review is, I stand by the necessity to get it done and’ posted. Did my explanation read like one of those overlong, self-indulgent intros to a recipe you find online? Definitely. But Knife delivered a platter that deserves your attention (regardless of the date), and I’m glad I can continue following them on their journey. So when you give Heaven into Dust a whirl, feel free to curse me for not cluing you in sooner to such a blasphemous good time.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: (Stream) | Format Reviewed: (Stream)
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: knifemetal.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/k.n.i.f.e.official
Releases Worldwide: August 25th, 2023

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Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and sometimes a rendering of a spaceship violently crashing into a planet is just a really good excuse to nab an album to review. And while I won’t be asking Dr. Freud to psychoanalyze why I find a rocket penetrating the depths of a celestial body so

According to Colony Drop’s Bandcamp page, the band’s motto is “High Speed, Twin Lead.” This isn’t just a promise that gets my heart all aflutter; it’s also an honest declaration. Time and time again, you’ll hear this maxim take mighty musical form on Brace for Impact, often to crushing effect. The fact that it’s all delivered amidst the turmoil of sneering, crossover thrash and bolstered by riff after chunky riff makes Colony Drop’s impact that much more potent. And while they accurately invoke bands like Power Trip and Black Breath in their “for fans of” section, I can’t in good conscience end this paragraph without mentioning Gama Bomb. Or more importantly, their vocals. While frontman Joseph Schafer’s shouts ‘n grows sound nothing like the near croons of GB’s Philly Byrne, the sheer amount of fun they’re both having comes across loud and clear, and it’s this unique ingredient that contributes mightily to the success of Brace for Impact.

Schafer’s mad carnival barker approach roars to life on album opener “Colony Drop (Brace for Impact).” These vocal maneuvers support this 80s-infused tune, overflowing as it is with fun riffing and an infectious chorus. You can’t go wrong with following up “Remade” either, as it doles out even more beefy riffs, doses of groove, and leans heavily into the lunatic ringmaster vox. Things chug along nicely, with some big, explosive dual solos, more neck-splintering, crossover riffage, and no shortage of a ” litany of sci-fi nightmares” (once again from their Bandcamp). And then we hit “Heartfelt,” one of those mid-album interludes that always feels out of place. Except this one doesn’t. Acoustic, emotive, and brief, this little ditty is a deftly-performed palate cleanser, ensconced as it is between massive walls o’ thrash.

What is Colony Drop up to here? Because after multiple listens, it certainly feels like they’re not looking to fill a singular role. Instead, it seems like these Washingtonians are more interested in pursuing a career as the musical equivalent of a particularly troublesome bout of cognitive dissonance. Their lyrics can be both over-the-top and proudly tongue-in-cheek, while also thoughtfully decrying the very real dehumanization that results from unrestrained technology. They can be both straightforward, crossover chuggers as well as technical, prog-adjacent wizards. They can deliver both soulful acoustics and ominous interludes alongside rip-roaring party fuel and chest-thumping riffs. I’m not sure there’s an answer, and maybe that’s okay. At any rate, “Patient Xero” is probably my favorite of this dirty (near) dozen, introducing unexpected blackened snarls and deathened growls, both of which add to the warring yet complementary approaches that make up Colony Drop’s sound. Album closer “(MS-07) The Gouf” is not just a reference to a mech from the show Mobile Suit: Gundam (thanks Google) but a showstopper of a closer that features a slower, thicker main riff, gang chants, and the amazing lyric “5 barrel machine gun hand/locked and loaded for the final stand!”

Brace for Impact is good. Perhaps surprisingly good, considering how so many other modern thrash acts are still busy rehashing whatever came out in 1984. There are certainly issues: when not reigned in by the instrumentation, the vocals can sometimes take on an elongated, grating quality, perhaps most notably on “Supplicant.” And there are hints here and there of odd transitions and abrupt cuts. But none of that can take away from what Colony Drop have accomplished on their very first outing by delivering a fun, oddly poignant, playfully erratic sci-fi crossover album with plenty of replay value. Take Brace for Impact for a spin or two, just please try to avoid any populated star systems.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nameless Grave Records
Websites: colonydropband.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/colonydropthrash
Releases Worldwide: August 25th, 2023

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While black metal is not my go-to, I find myself from time to time eager to discover the next blackened diamond in the rough. Enter Washingtonians

Unfortunately, Progenitor’s first full-length Eldritch Supremacy fails on many levels, not least of which is its inability to establish or maintain a cohesive sound, theme or musical approach. Take the intro, imaginatively titled “Intro,” featuring an awkward, out-of-place spoken word over dull atmospherics. The voice may be reading an H.P. Lovecraft quote, but it sounds like the aural equivalent of a twelve-year-old in corpse paint trying desperately to look trve kvlt while standing underneath a snowy tree in their mom’s backyard. The following title track is an overlong, meandering tune that features quality black metal snarls that are forced to contend with a poorly-delivered deathened roar. Add in some odd timing on the drums that may or may not be intentional and yet another awkward spoken word section, and we’ve just witnessed the very example of making a bad first impression.

While Progenitor may be considered black metal, there’s plenty of death metal influence as well. But because the band is unable to successfully wed the two, Eldritch Supremacy is the worse for it. When black metal is at the forefront, the songs feel tighter, better composed, and more engaging. The shrieks, while sometimes slightly off-kilter, pack a definite punch. Take “Crows of Winter,” a tune boasting riffs reminiscent of Blackevil’s “Satan’s Crown” alongside emotive tremolos. It’s the song that served as a convincing argument that somewhere, slithering in and out of each track like some Lovecraftian horror, slunk a serviceable melodic black metal album. Unfortunately, poorly-adapted death metal is always invited to the Eldritch Supremacy party, even if the guests still have PTSD from his last visit. “Beast of Gevaudan” would qualify as one of the album’s best if it weren’t for those troublesome death roars, which now take on a wince-inducing howl, informed, perhaps, by the werewolf-like title creature. Whatever the reason, this vocal choice derails much of what makes this a strong, mid-album track, and it isn’t helped by the dawdling ending. It’s as if Progenitor were contractually obligated to deliver songs that are close to, right at, or slightly over the five-minute mark, even if they don’t have the ideas to justify the length.

I can appreciate that Progenitor chose to employ blackened blasts, shrieks, and tremolos to kick off a majority of their tracks. It introduces some much-needed dynamism and attempts to build momentum. “Treasures of Perversion” uses this approach, yet quickly descends into an unnecessary instrumental section that jettisons the song into six-minute territory without adding anything new or interesting. Album closer “Binding the Corpse of God” doubles down, clocking in at a staggering eleven and a half minutes with very little to show for it. While the opening surprises with a slow, Twin peaks-inspired jazz tune and warbly bass, there’s an odd audio blip at the one-minute mark that reduces the impact and helps defang the sudden arrival of blackened snarls and deathend roars, which, thanks to some perplexing placement of vocals, guitar, and drums, pack about as much punch as a feather-filled boxing glove tossed across the yard by a sleepy octogenarian. The tedious instrumentation continues unabated, padding out a song that could have been half this length, and marking a frustrating end to a frustrating album.

Simply put, Eldritch Supremacy is not good. The first two songs leave a bad taste in the listener’s mouth, and while the increased competency on several follow-up tracks raises one’s hopes, the wearisome bloat, sub-standard DM vox, and some questionable mixing decisions dash those hopes against the rocks quicker than a sick infant in Sparta. But ever the optimist, I feel there’s a lesson here for Progenitor. By carving out the low-quality death metal malignancy and reducing the plodding instrumental sections, they’d be free to focus on their strengths: energetic and downright catchy melodic black metal. Because right now, the only thing “supreme” here is the pizza I’m going to eat to drown my low-scoring sorrows.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: progenitormetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/progenitormetalband
Releases Worldwide: July 14th, 2023

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