“Décembre Noir has been a model of classy consistency for four albums now. This German quintet’s long-form doom compositions wend their slow way toward weighty themes of loss and grief, mixing in some death metal tropes and tempos to keep things spry. They’ve been plodding off in pursuit of mournful majesty–or is it majestic mournfulness?–since 2014, and hitting their mark so reliably that there’s been little need to shake things up along the way.” December as lifestyle.
“I beg your pardon, Svartkonst–but it appears you got your corpse paint on my cargo shorts. Over the course of two albums, Rickard Törnqvist–until now the only member of this Swedish outfit–has been concocting and refining his signature blend of Entombed-core Swedeath and Watain’s fierce approach to melodic black metal. 2020’s Black Waves was a revelation and a highlight of that dire year, taking the best of Svartkonst’s influences and boiling away whatever Törnqvist didn’t need. Not since the mad lads over at Reese’s had their mishap with chocolate and peanut butter has a mashup gone so swimmingly. Now Törnqvist is back with a five-man touring lineup in tow, as Svartkonst drops new long player May the Night Fall.” Be-Twix and between worlds.
“”Is this how it ends?” “We are devoured by time.” The latter phrase is the first lyric on Primordial’s How It Ends; the former is one of the last. The champs of epic metal return with their first album since 2018’s Exile Amongst the Ruins and tenth overall. The new batch of material obsesses over endings and the concept of finality, filtering this preoccupation through Primordial’s long-established formula of galloping rippers and stately marches. The slab’s title and its themes reflect both the state of the world and, inevitably, the state of Primordial.” Glory fades.
“The departed Huck N’ Roll, who has not been reduced to a nutritious paste designed to keeps n00bs clinging to life, loved up on Domkraft’s 2021 release Seeds. Huck considered the third album by these Swedes to be the best stoner/psych doom album of that year. The readership shared his enthusiasm to a point, while also noting that the effort felt like psychedelia as played by those who eschew psychedelics. I agreed with both camps; Seeds is a fun listen, but it does occasionally seem like the work of three talented members of the school orchestra who drank some punch spiked with liquid acid at the prom.” You put the seeds in the bongonut.
“Orphalis has everything a band could want–except for a bigger audience. Over the course of three prior albums, this German quintet honed their take on “brutal technical death metal” into a potent force. Their sound consists of chops and hooks served in roughly equal measure, riffs on riffs on more riffs stuffed into the sausage casing of three- to -five-minute song structures. The band flashes songwriting prowess alongside technique that never devolves into wheedly-deedly indulgence, and they coat everything with a shellac of genuine aggression.” Malice at the Phalis.
“The life of the unpaid, overworked metal reviewer is not an easy one. The reviewing collective at AMG lurches from one new release to the next, errors and nOObs strewn in our wake. But what if, once in a while, the collective paused to take stock and consider the discography of those bands that shaped many a taste? What if two three aspects of the AMG collective personality shared with the slavering masses their personal rankings of that discography.” Incantagories.
“Goliath isn’t going to sneak up on anybody. Kataklysm’s formula, tweaked on 2020’s Unconquered to include a seven-string guitar, remains in place: burly but accessible melodies that often evoke Amon Amarth, lyrics that use cliched martial imagery to spur the listener toward a kind of tough-love self-improvement, and effective production from guitarist Jean-François Dagenais that splits the difference between “gnarly” and “sleek.” Size matters.
“Burial Hordes seems to be familiar with me, and also with you… and for some reason, they hate us both. The band has been releasing blackened death metal at odd intervals since 2001, living in the shadow of the members’ estimable other gigs. With Ruins, Burial Hordes makes their claim on the spotlight. Are you willing to expose yourself to what Burial Hordes has been up to for the past two decades… and how the fuck have we all stayed safe from this unit since the turn of the century?” Sinister plots available in your area!
“The time-dilating effects of the pandemic reveal themselves when considering Saint Karloff’s latest effort. Paleolithic War Crimes follows 2019’s Interstellar Voodoo, a platter that consists of a single forty-minute track. Interstellar Voodoo feels like it came out either two weeks or two thousand years ago; I can’t always tell which, but I swear I just read Steel’s rave for the first time and filed the record away as one to dig into whenever that mythical chunk of free time presents itself. That album’s combo platter of songwriting brio and Sabbath-ian, Kyuss-ite riffage captivated our Hairy Knuckled Underboss. Four long years (that somehow also feel like four short weeks) later, Saint Karloff returns with a new batch of progressive occult rock.” Quest for stone fire.
“Angerot ventures deep into the Valley of Ov on The Profound Recreant, leaning hard into the strain of theatrical Satanism that ran through their first two albums. We’re defiling daughters here, swallowing other people’s mucous, and slaking the lust of the recently widowed. Choirs chime in to document the various blasphemies, with horns and keys dropping by to add occasional symphonic flourishes.” Devil by the tail.
