In a crowded world of metal bands trying to be the next big thing, VOID are unapologetically throwback. Along with leather and hair that won’t quit the 80’s, the sound of the band hearkens back to the halcyon years of metal. VOID’s brand of thrash leans more Bay Area than Germanic, and often is simply high-energy heavy metal, evoking the pre-Load era of Metallica, classic Mercyful Fate, and a whiff of Judas Priest. Catchy, horns-up riffs abound in Forbidden Morals and the guitar solos in particular are worthy of the thrash solo pantheon (“Forbidden Morals,” “Beneath…Lives The Impaler”). Jackson Davenport’s vocals are a standout here, running up and down his larynx with abandon in both clean singing and gruff barks. The rhythm section doesn’t slouch either, with a springy bass tone that is an unexpected highlight in the record’s more spacious moments (“Judas Cradle”). A murky production job compliments the album’s concept, but when the riffs pick up the pace and intricacy, I found myself missing the clarity of the low end.

What Forbidden Morals lacks in studio sheen, it makes up for in sheer enthusiasm. The album’s ten tracks cover a large swathe of ground, and VOID aren’t content to confine themselves to one side of metal. Progressive inclinations pop up in odd time signatures (“Beneath…Lives The Impaler”) horror atmospheres (“Apparition”) and rapid fire tempo changes (“Forbidden Morals”). The voice-over intro of “A Curse” comes off on the cheesy side, but when paired with a recap in “Beneath…Lives The Impaler” and the very obvious Andrew Lloyd Webber reference in “Return Of The Phantom” VOID make a convincing case for Forbidden Morals as a horror-inspired album. The Priest-esque power ballad “By Silver Light” is one of the album’s strongest tracks, featuring a throat-shredding performance by Davenport, and tasteful flamenco guitar that makes for a nice change of pace. After spending a few weeks with Forbidden Morals, it occurred to me the further VOID move from traditional thrash, the better they get.

Forbidden Morals is a raucous good time, and quite ambitious, but I can find a few dents in VOID’s Transylvanian armor. The back of the half album (beginning with gorgeous acoustic guitar instrumental “Valeria”) is much more engaging than the front, and this lopsidedness makes album relistens something of a chore. While the individual tracks here have an impressive array of structures, using repeating guitar motifs as connective tissue, there’s a frustrating lack of memorable, or even perceptible, choruses. When combined with progressive song layouts (not simply verse/chorus/bridge) finding one’s place in the song is difficult, and the songs feel much longer than they are (“Gateways of Stone,” “Judas Cradle”). VOID also abuse the fade-out, with four of the eight proper tracks on here featuring this listless ending. Longform closer “Beneath…Lies The Impaler,” which is otherwise a commendable achievement of progressive thrash, is saddled with not just a fade-out but a fade-in as well, an unforced error in my book of album production choices.

The cartoonish quality of Forbidden Morals’ album cover had me worried this would be an amateur outing into thrashy trad metal, but I’m happy to report VOID have put my worries to rest. If the back half of Forbidden Morals were packaged as an EP I’d be hawking VOID’s wares up and down the n00b cells on my weekly guard rotation. With a bit of work on clarifying their song structure, and the will to end their songs with an exclamation point versus ellipses, I hope to see big things from the Louisiana quintet. As it stands, Forbidden Morals is a solid album for those who like their metal a bit thrashy, a bit classic, and a lot of fun.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Shadow Kingdom
Websites: Bandcamp | Website | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 29th, 2025

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If you’re familiar with the sounds of early Symphony X and Dream Theater, you’ll have insight into the contents of Odds and Ends. Chunky, rhythmic riffs propel the verses towards catchy choruses and then into acrobatic instrumental passages, and don’t forget the omnipresent unison lines, where keyboard and guitar move through tonality and barlines with abandon. Musical prowess is required here, and the performances on Odds and Ends are tight and commendable across the board. Tiago, whether he means to or not, does a spot-on impression of 90’s Russell Allen, with a clean upper register that can wail in the highs (“A Singer In The Arms Of Winter”) and swoop into low growls (“Against Our Fire”). His guitar work is impressive, with solos in the mold of Romeo and Petrucci (“The Pool of Liquid Dreams,” “A Singer In The Arms Of Winter”). Masseti’s rhythm section is dependable and shines when needed, with a noteworthy bass intro (“The Pool of Liquid Dreams”) and some dazzlingly quick combinations on the drums (“Against Our Fire”).

Odds and Ends is a fitting title for Masseti’s debut, because the album consists of tracks that seem fully cooked and others that don’t quite fit in. When Tiago nails his songwriting and editing, though, some of the material is downright decadent. Opener and somehow-not-single “Serpents and Whores” is the star of the show here, effortlessly fusing modern Haken djent with an absolute banger of a chorus and a smart, underutilized odd-time signature diversion in the coda. The album busies itself with winding paths from there, visiting classic Symphony X-tinged ballads (“Gone,” “Hindrance”) and long-form Dream Theater-style excursions (“Never Be Like You,” “Heir Of The Survivor”). Masseti certainly don’t rest on their laurels, but the cosmopolitan nature of Odds and Ends proves to be something of an Achilles’ heel.

Perhaps more important than convincing songs is album cohesion. The DR 6 production has a modern sheen to it, but it runs louder than it needs to and would benefit from more nuance and depth. Prog is no stranger to long compositions, but they can be momentum killers, and editing is paramount. The opening salvo of tracks is trimmed and lean, full of exciting choruses and varied songwriting approaches, but the album’s center sags. “Singer In The Arms Of Winter” is a hulking tribute to Dio that nails the execution but sticks around just a little too long, and while “Never Be Like You” uses a refreshingly off-kilter unison rhythm as its central motif, it takes 8 minutes to do what it could probably do in 6. The kinetic energy of the album’s outset is never really regained. By the time closer “Heir Of The Survivor”—a Twilight Of Olympus inspired track if I’ve ever heard one—rolls around, it seems Masseti has lost the novel direction they took in the beginning and are sitting in more comfortable, proven territory.

It may seem I’m coming down hard on Masseti, but I do it out of love, because the front end of this album shows just how much raw potential is here. Tiago should be commended for shouldering so much of the performance and production for a debut album that sounds like it’s coming from a mature outfit. I can see myself returning to this album every once in a while, but tracks like “Serpents and Whores” and “Gone” will definitely be making my NOW 2025 list¹. Masseti have all the tools in their belt, and with greater editing and album cohesion, I see a great symphonic prog record in their future.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: massetiofficial.com | facebook.com/massetiofficial
Releases Worldwide: June 14th, 2025

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Judicator remain a reliable band for fans of quality, USDA Choice Power, while managing to streamline their songwriting approach. The orchestral grandiosity of Blind Guardians meets the rabid thrashing of Iced Earth, but this time around there’s a more straightforward, heavy metal sensibility not unlike genre titans Judas Priest or Iron Maiden. Gone are the long, experimental windings of The Majesty of Decay, and in their place are truncated song structures, sharpened riffcraft, and a renewed focus on powerful, hooky choruses. Yellend’s bright tenor carries the brunt of the workload here, shining in the barreling, traditional power metal moments (“Call Us Out Of Slumber,” “Concord”) but sounding slightly out of place in the slower, quieter passages (“Johannah’s Song,” “Hold Your Smile”). Yellend’s lyrics seem genuine, though, relating tales of lost valor (“Call Us Out Of Slumber”), the call of the wilderness (“Sawtooth”), the massacre at Wounded Knee (“Imperial”), and Cormac McCarthy’s harrowing epic Blood Meridian, an apt epilogue for an album about the scarring legacy of Manifest Destiny.

For all their pushing and rearranging of the genre envelope, Judicator are still a power metal band at the end of the day, and they shall be judged on the memorability of their hooks. I’m happy to report that after shying away from the magic of the chorus on The Majesty of Decay, the earworms have made a triumphant return. Singalong anthems pepper the album, less cheesy than the Italian variety and more like the unabashed brawniness of Manowar or last year’s Nemedian Chronicles (“Sawtooth,” “Hold Your Smile,” “Concord”). The riffs on Concord eschew the lightning-fast runs one might expect from Dragonforce-core and opt for a grounded, foot-stomping aesthetic that fits neatly into the album’s concept (“Imperial,” “A Miracle of Life”). Replayability is also helped by the album’s editing, running 51 minutes across 9 tracks, with a closing epic whose structure is well executed, justifying its runtime (“Blood Meridian”).

Concord feels like a turn in the right direction for Judicator, but it hasn’t fully avoided the pitfalls of its core genre. While the album is stuffed with some real crowd-pleasers, some songs don’t quite make the same impression as their brethren. The relentless major key optimism of “Johannah’s Song” feels like a musical idea that hasn’t been fully formed, and the narrative-dependent “Weeping Willow” never seems to find its footing. Tracks set up in a storytelling format often have clunky lyrics, a little too on-the-nose, and fall prey to power metal’s reputation for cringe (“Johannah’s Song,” “Weeping Willow,” “Hold Your Smile”). But Judicator succeed in channeling a genuine love for their genre on the lion’s share of Concord, and its hard to be untouched by their infectious enthusiasm.

Concord represents a laudatory return to form for Judicator. Cuts like “Call Us Out Of Slumber,” “Sawtooth,” and the embedded title track have monster choruses that threaten to secure slots on my SOTY playlist, and the album as a whole has the gift of memorability. While not breaking any new ground, it feels as if Judicator have finally found the feet to stand on since losing Cordisco, and not a moment too soon. Some may find the closing scene of “Blood Meridian”–ripped straight from the epilogue of the book–a bit hokey, but I think it sums up Judicator’s current state nicely. As the din of fiddles and revelry thickens, Judge Holden whips the bar patrons into an inebriated frenzy and repeats, endlessly, with a menacing snarl, “I will never die.”

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2024

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Euphrosyne isn’t content to paint themselves into a post-black corner. Efi Eva is a convincing, multi-faceted vocalist, and her chameleon-like vocal performance drives the different moods of Morus. Her clean soprano, not unlike Evanescence’s Amy Lee, guides the acoustic sections, featuring reverb-drenched piano melodies and simple, plucked guitar lines (“Morus,” “Valley of White”), while also unleashing impressive hardcore shouts (“Asphodel”) and black metal roars (“Lilac Ward”). Despotidis’ lead guitar acts as a counterpoint, his soaring melodies anchoring instrumental sections (“Funeral Rites,” “Mitera”). Euphrosyne’s rhythm section is dependable, deploying predictable blasting alongside less predictable odd time signatures and filtered grooves akin to Mer de Noms-era A Perfect Circle (“Valley of White,” “Eulogy”). At its heart, Morus is a narrative album, and Euphrosyne wisely employ different sounds and styles to shape the story as its told.

Euphrosyne excel at painting the tale of death with their music. From the pivotal moment of “July 21st” where Eva takes her ethereal clean tone and warps it into a furious snarl, the listener sits sidecar to Despotidis’ grieving process. The frustrated proselytizing of “Eulogy,” the spiraling guitar riff closing “Funeral Rites” (perhaps signifying the lowering of a casket), and the wailing guitar melody of “Mitera” that segues into “Asphodel” feels more at home in the theater than the recording studio. Spoken word, all in the band’s native Greek, humanizes the performance and reinforces the narrative concept (“Morus,” “Mitera”). While the production shows its limits in the black metal riffage, Euphrosyne know how to use silence and space when it counts, particularly at the edges of their songs (“Morus,” “Funeral Rites”). Morus is also edited well, running at a well-rounded 43 minutes with not much fat to trim. The slimmer run time allows the listener to fully appreciate the story on their first pass, and then discover layering and thematic through-lines on repeats.

Euphrosyne drip creativity with their more adventurous sections, but they seem to move to the tried and true side of melodic metal elsewhere. Eva’s performance is solid throughout, but the constant reliance on a clean vocal chorus becomes rote by the end of the album. The black metal passages of the album, while serving their role as a pressure valve for the music’s pent-up emotion, feel by-the-numbers and more like a bridge between the more exciting, less heavy moments. Production is handled by Psychon of Septicflesh fame, and while the mixing/mastering job lends the quieter parts of Morus breathing room, the crushed DR5 rips any sense of dynamic from the black metal blasting and trilling, an industry-standard approach that takes away from Euphrosyne’s unique take on the genre. Its difficult to pinpoint specific songs that work better than others since they all contain aspects of the “post and the black,” but it’s easy to see after a couple weeks of focused listens that Euphrosyne shine in the empty spaces when they’re less restricted to a post-black label.

Despite these gripes, Morus is a deeply affecting album, one that moved me more the longer I left it to marinate. I don’t know that singular pain of losing a parent, but I know the pain of losing someone very close to me, and Despotidis’ memoir has brushed that scar tissue. Though this score may seem to describe a somewhat middling listening experience, I highly recommend this album for fans of dark, weighty music that tells a story. I think with some fine-tuning, Euphrosyne have quite the mark to make in the post-black world. Until their next effort, I’ll keep Morus in my back pocket for the grey days when I need to commiserate with another wounded soul.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 21st, 2025

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Kazea

Kazea choose to separate and highlight, rather than amalgamate, their stylistic influences, a gamble that pays off more often than not. Dusky acoustic guitars reminiscent of Gustavo Santaolalla or A Romance With Violence-era Wayfarer lead the folk-inspired sections, evoking untamed, pagan wilderness (“With A Knife,” “A Strange Burial”). The sludge, which forms the backbone of Kazea’s sound, is more Melvins than Mastodon, and a lot of American Scrap-era Huntsmen, with fuzzy guitars and stomping drum patterns (“Whispering Hand,” “Wailing Blood”). Jonas Mattsson’s vocals may be a bit controversial here, with their Billy Corgan-esque nasal quality, but the more I listened to I. Ancestral the more Mattsson’s performance stuck with me. I hear shades of Layne Staley in his scrawling delivery, and while I wasn’t always able to discern the lyrics, his dynamic croon forms the beating heart of the album’s post-metal tunes (“Trenches,” “Seamlessly Woven”).

For a band handing in their debut record, Kazea slither and wind their way around 37 minutes with the hallmarks of seasoned songwriters. An air of storytelling pervades the album, with memorable spoken word fragments (“A Little Knife,” “A Strange Burial”) and ambient soundscapes (“The North Passage,” “Seamlessly Woven”) delivering post-metal’s cinematics within a sludge framework. Post-metal swells and crashes à la This Will Destroy You and Isis are found on “Trenches” and “Seamlessly Woven,” and while these are unsurprisingly the longest tracks on the record they handle their duration well, with the latter providing one of the strongest, heart-wrenching choruses I’ve heard all year long. Even “Whispering Hand,” which is something akin to pop sludge, is a radio-ready anthem full of earworms that evokes the better moments of Them Crooked Vultures.

I. Ancestral is a promising opening for Kazea’s proposed musical series, and its flaws are few and far between. Daniel Olsson’s drums are powerful, and the groove laid down in “The North Passage” marches in mammoth lockstep with Rasmus Lindbolm’s bass, but the minimalist tribal kick/toms/snare pattern begins to feel a bit overused the longer one listens to the record. “Pale City Skin” and “Wailing Blood” both start strongly but spin their riff wheels a touch too long, giving in to the tendency of both sludge and post-metal to utilize repetition for content. And while a master by Cult of Luna’s Magnus Lindberg is roomy and darkly colorful, the vocal mix does get buried in the busier sections of the album, which is a shame because these constitute some of the best music I. Ancestral has to offer (“Trenches,” “Seamlessly Woven”). But the overall impression of Kazea’s debut beats its blemishes, presenting a stark and unique voice formed from disparate influences.

“…with a knife. With a little knife that just fits into the palm.” The chilling denouement of “With A Knife” has stuck with me as I’ve ruminated over I. Ancestral. It neatly encapsulates the album, weaving shadowy, wooded energy into an unlikely combination of post-metal and sludge. The album is smartly edited and easy to pore over multiple times, with repeat listens revealing some standout moments: “Whispering Hand” is a shamelessly fun sludge anthem, and “Seamlessly Woven” is the most emotionally packed closer I’ve heard since The Drowning’s “Blood Marks My Grave.” I think Kazea have knocked it out of the park with this debut, and are on the verge of coalescing their sound into something truly remarkable. Don’t sleep on these guys.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Suicide Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 21st, 2025

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Thrash was a basis for Bionic Swarm, but here it’s used more as a color on Cryptosis’ palette. The boundary-pushing sounds of Vektor are still present here, but they’re joined by Gothenburg melodeath (“Ascending”) and expansive post-metal instrumentals (“The Silent Call,” “Coda-Wander Into The Light”). Even as they widen their stylistic pool, Cryptosis retain a high level of musicianship and execution. Marco Prij’s drumming is still blisteringly fast, and added creativity in the cymbal-work (“Static Horizon,” “Ascending”) and decidedly non-thrash blasting (“The Silent Call,” “Cryptosphere”) makes it a great listen for the rhythmically inclined. Frank te Riet’s synths are much more present this go-around, and paired with his mellotron work, they achieve a void-wrapped atmosphere worthy of the album’s title. Frontman Laurens Houvert reminds us this album is still rooted in furious thrash, though, and his gruff barks paired with maniacally dancing riffs make Celestial Death an entertaining and, at times, challenging record.

Thrash is known for burning hot and dying fast, but that’s not the case with Celestial Death. Although only 42 minutes, a perfectly adequate runtime, there’s lots of heady material packed into these 11 tracks. Bookended and bisected by instrumentals, there’s an erudite symmetry to Celestial Death’s structure. The front half features 4 experimental non-thrash compositions, while the back half’s 4 are more concerned with kicking ass and taking names. Though I applaud Cryptosis for their willingness to color outside the lines, not everything sticks its landing. Sweeping, half-time sections showcase te Riet’s droning synths but lose precious potential energy (“The Silent Call,” “Motionless Balance”). Tracks in this half are well performed, but the songwriting feels less focused, holding onto riffs and instrumental sections a bit too long (“Static Horizon”). With the exception of proper opener “Faceless Matter” which is a successful composite of Cryptosis’ past and future, the album’s front thoughtfully meanders when it should be gripping throats.

A trio of songs in the album’s B-side reminds us of why Cryptosis deserves to be in the conversation for compelling, modern thrash. Out of the transitory warblings of “Motionless Balance” comes an absolute ripper of a track in “Reign Of Infinite.” Houvert’s opening riff sets fire to his fretboard, and the double-kick battering is a welcome backing for the most headbangable moment on the album. The instrumental in the album’s bridge, including a beautiful rising lead melody in the guitars, gives just enough time away from the sturm und drang to clear the air before plunging earthward again. “In Between Realities” pairs the album’s sole sing-along chorus with choppy rhythms and extended tremolos, and closer “Cryptosphere” makes the case for Symphony X-style thrash. My attention snapped back into place in this section of Celestial Death, ending the album on a high note and earning the place of zoom-out closer “Coda-Wander Into The Light.”

Celestial Death doesn’t give up its astral secrets easily and will rebuff the casual listener. What at first feels like a wall of riffs and washy synths eventually finds definition and reveals a burgeoning voice in extreme metal. Even the instrumentals, which are so often shoehorned into “progressive” pieces, earn their keep after repeated listens. While I don’t share the enthusiasm gene of our dear Holden, I think Cryptosis have a solid addition to their discography here and are on the verge of synthesizing their own take on modern thrash. At times viciously thrash, twistingly prog, or tantalizingly atmospheric, Celestial Death has a little something for everybody and has successfully avoided, at least in this writer’s opinion, the modern thrash trap.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: STREAM | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Century Media
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

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Universe Calls is first and foremost a symphonic prog album, and a pretty traditional one at that. None of that blackened bombast or quirky genre-blending; this is meat-and-taters progressive metal. Think Kamelot, Dream Theater and Symphony X. Although no one person is credited with orchestrations, the synth orchestral hits and swells are the sixth band member, and their interplay with the full band is a central component of Paralydium’s sound. Georg Egg delivers intricate drum parts peppered with syncopated, athletic fills. Jonathan Olsson’s bass is wonderfully highlighted, snappy and clear when it leads, and rumbling when it supports. Alexander Lycke’s admirable performance reminds me of a pre-growls Russell Allen, but the stars of the show here are John Berg (guitars) and Mike Blanc (keyboards). Their dueling solos and lengthy, harmonized unison riffs anchor the rest of the band, cementing Universe Calls as prog metal from beginning to end.

If you liked Symphony X’s run from their self-titled to The Odyssey, you’d be hard-pressed to find a better doppelgänger than Universe Calls. This is a double-edged sword, however, since the line between emulation and plagiarism runs mighty thin. But the positives first. There’s a lot of musical material packed into Universe Calls; the majority of it compelling, and all of it well-performed. Along with the typically propulsive verses and sweeping choruses, the Berg/Blanc duo deploy ambient acoustic passages to great effect (“The Arcane Exploration Part I,” “Interlude”). The band doesn’t bare their teeth very often, but the opening riff of “Caught In a Dream” and the harmonic minor bookends of single “Sands of Time” provide some much-needed headbang-ability. At 50 minutes this album risks running overlong, but the band generally has a good handle on song structure and knows how to use style variance and riff placement to make the songs feel shorter than they are (“Forging the Past,” “Caught In A Dream”).

Paralydium excel at high-flying performances but they’re missing a key part of the songwriting formula: hooks. The absence of memorable, catchy material is the death knell of any composition, prog-leaning ones especially. The band get closest with the chorus in “Sands of Time”—as evidenced by its status as lead single—but after multiple listens, that was the only vocal or instrumental melody that stuck in my head. And then there’s “The Arcane Exploration.” This mammoth, 25-minute opus-split-in-two accounts for roughly half of the album’s runtime, but doesn’t have anywhere near the dynamic or style shifts to justify its length. Usually, prog bands will break tracks like this into movements, each with their own flavor and verse/chorus structure. But Paralydium gamble big on two giant movements, and ultimately fall flat with overextended solo and transition sections and not enough shared DNA to tie the tracks together. It’s a pity because the performances within border on excellent, but the pitfall of prog is indulgence that gives way to sterility, and Universe Calls falls prey to exactly that issue.

Which brings us to the flip side of the Symphony X-worship that is Universe Calls. The surface of the album is ready-to-serve, and it makes for a nostalgic, enjoyable listen for those who yearn for the halcyon days of symphonic prog. But there’s something missing inside, the absence of the vibrant core that made V: The New Mythology Suite and The Odyssey such genre classics. I hope Paralydium continue to find their own style and voice, but I can’t help but feel Universe Calls represents a ceiling for their growth. It’s one thing to emulate a genre-defining band and carry on the legacy they forged, especially when said band has been a decade quiet. But as the late, great Omar Little opined, “when you come at the king, you best not miss.”

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Frontiers Music
Website: facebook.com/paralydium
Releases Worldwide: August 23rd, 2024

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Vile Rites’ ability to seamlessly blend OSDM influences into their signature sound shows wisdom beyond the band’s years. You’ll find the foundational elements of Floridian Death Metal–Morbid Angel and Death chainsaw riffs and blistering backbeats–especially in the warm-up routine of opener “Only Silence Follows.” But as the album progresses Vile Rites stretch the edges of the music, toying with odd-time signature passages and whiplash tempo shifts that remind me of the proggier moments of Gorguts, or a less frenetic Faceless Burial (“Senescence,” “Shiftless Wanderings”). The trio is a favored format for this style of death metal, and Vile Rites use their limited lineup skillfully. Skinsman Aerie Johnson wears the OSDM and prog hats equally well, straddling the line somewhere between Richard Christie and Between The Buried And Me’s Blake Richardson. Bandleader, guitarist, and vocalist Alex Miletich excels on all three fronts, delivering a pleasantly discernible death roar, alongside notable solos that form the center of nearly every track here. Stephen Coon’s bass performance is magnificent, taking the lead on melodies as often as supporting the harmonic structure. The album’s eerie, watery quality is due in no small part to the work of a bass guitar tone drenched in springy reverb and muted blues.

The straightforward death metal material on Senescence is quite good, but the stranger Vile Rites gets, the better they get. Take, for instance, the recurring theremin-like synth waves, emerging from the inky blackness, threatening to overwhelm, before disappearing once again (“Only Silence Follows,” “Transcendent Putrefaction”). Or the lengthy middle section of “Transcendent Putrefaction” that suspends both momentum and harmony and just when it seems you’ve lost your way in the song, Johnson drops in on a swinging, shuffle groove that would be wildly out of place in lesser hands. Even the interlude, ever the albatross of albums, knows just how long to last with its gentle picked guitar and synths swirling amidst a summer storm (“Ephemeral Reverie of Eroded Dreams”). The band—along with that elegant cover, mysterious and melancholy—use atmosphere and smart, inventive riffcraft to drag the listener down, and the end result is impressive.

The more I listened to Senescence, the harder it was to find faults in its design. Longform closer “Banished To Solitude (Adrift On The Infinite Waves)” has plenty of high moments, from a nasty decelerator of a riff in it’s opening, to a menacing build-up just before the final chorus, and dueling bass and guitar solos to round out the album. I could nitpick and say that the outro drags on just a bit too long, and that the buildup, absolutely loaded with potential energy, meets its release just a few bars too early, but I’m really splitting hairs here. The one point I will level at the band is that I can’t help but feel that they’re hovering right on the precipice of a stellar album, but haven’t quite found it. This is a nebulous criticism that’s hard to quantify, but while everything is executed near-perfectly in these six tracks, very little left me awestruck, and I think Vile Rites has the tools to do just that.

Vile Rites have produced a debut album that comes so close to swatting the counter it hurts. Loaded with mind-bending stanky riffs, soaring solos, and glistening proggy diversions, Senescence is a must-listen for all fans of the OSDM revival movement. I think Vile Rites will find their path forward in the riches of “Banished To Solitude…” and a continued incursion into stranger, wilder sound worlds. Keep your eyes fixated on the movements of these Santa Rosa boys, a leviathan may be lurking in their future.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Carbonized Records
Websites: vilerites.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/VileRites
Releases Worldwide: August 16th, 2024

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The image conjured up by the term deathwave—a blend of dark metal and new-wave—is fitting for parts of Diana’s Day, but that doesn’t reveal the whole picture. There’s a lot of infectious punk and post-punk energy here, blending the fuck-you attitude of Hole with the ‘80s strut of Siouxsie and the Banshees. While Wyand channels the dry, droning vocal styles of The Cure and early ‘00s AFI, the rest of the band plows ahead with NWoBHM laced riffs (“From Below,” “Hill of Swords”) and more mid-tempo Untoothers swagger (“Lilim,” “Goetia”). The production here deserves mention, punching well above its weight. There’s a pleasant, crackling quality to the bass guitar throughout, lending drive and texture to the instrumental breaks (“Bloodstains,” “Lilim”). The roomy master with a DR 9 lets all the layers of guitars—which are bountiful—sit in their own corner of the sound world, rewarding repeat listens. What starts off sounding like a standard punky garage band record reveals layer after layer, something unexpected given the musical style presented.

Fourth Dominion write tight, punchy goth rock songs that aim to smack you in the mouth and get out before you can react. Tracks are lean and cut to radio-friendly proportion, generally consisting of an intro, verse-chorus pattern, bridge and outro. Trimmed-down structures like this tend to be over-reliant on their choruses for memorability, and the band manage to deliver some strong ones (“Burn the Prisons,” “Hill of Swords,” “Casca Dreaming”). The guitar leads, when they crop up, are of note and well executed, hearkening back to the NWoBHM influences (“Lilim,” “Her Wings”). A compelling trio of songs closes the album, leaning heavily on picked acoustic guitars, forming a kind of reflective, ballad-esque triptych. Combined with the raucous, off-beat energy in the center of “Her Wings,” this trio shows a completely different side of Fourth Dominion, which unfortunately makes for something of a lopsided listening experience.

There are still formidable obstacles standing in the way of Fourth Dominion delivering a great entry in the goth-rock pantheon. Truth be told, I believe Meadow Wyand’s vocal delivery is going to be a make-or-break point for many listeners, and it depends on your tolerance for the punk, post-punk style of singing. Her earnest, lyric-driven style is on brand with the band’s new-wave/gothic roots, but the combination of a siloed, upfront mix and a focus on a pitched, mid-range performance weakens many of the tracks. When she reaches into her higher register (the final chorus of “Bloodstains”) or lower (“Lilim,” “Death in Fall”) she delivers her most convincing performances. The aforementioned slim song structures devolve into repetitive forms as the album continues, and the variety found in “From Below” or the very groovy “Tormenta Purgatoria” would pay dividends spread throughout the record.

Diana’s Day takes some getting used to, but once acclimated, and upon closer inspection, there’s a breath of fresh air contained in here. It’s clear Wyand poured her heart and soul into the lyrical content of this album, and the impact of the closing tracks speaks volumes about the shared human experience of trauma and release. I think with a renewed focus on their strengths (guitar leads, variety of structure) and a better mix/variety for Wyand’s vocals the band would find a place for themselves amongst the “darkwave” elite. Until that time, I cautiously recommend Fourth Dominion for fans of new gothic metal and punk nostalgia. Something to break up the blasts and brees.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Fiadh Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 1st, 2024

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It’s clear from the outset that Disloyal know what kind of death metal to throw at you, the unsuspecting listener. After a surprisingly effective cinematic introduction—it’s rare that these tracks don’t feel shoehorned—you should expect to find explosions of teeth-baring tremolo and running-off-the-rails blasting, sewn together in a rough, patchwork fashion so the listener is kept on the edge of their seat. The album weaves a blasphemous, anti-religious theme, and the inclusion of spoken word and choral chants (“Divine Miasmata,” “Betrayed Faith”) and a musty, cavernous production greatly help set Divine Miasmata’s scene. Konstantin Kolesnikov utilizes a deep, rumbling roar that’s a bit one-note, but comfortably idiosyncratic, and the leads—they’re generally too short to be called solos—by main songwriter Artyom Serdyuk are impressive, pushing the bounds of tonality with leaping, highly chromatic figurations. All the performances here are professionally executed, and combined with the midnight-in-the-graveyard production Divine Miasmata leaves a strong impression, indicative of a band confident in their vision and voice.

Disloyal retain all the character of the brutal Pol-death pantheon while decorating the edges with sounds both modern and foreign. While you’ll find the traditional machine gun blasts and chuggy lines in cuts like “The Black Pope” and “Stella Peccatorum,” Disloyal stand ready with new weapons hidden up their sleeve. There’s dissodeath style harmonies and atonal, jagged figures in the guitars (“Silent Revolution”), hairpin tempo/meter shifts with little care for transitions (“Betrayed Faith”), mathcore odd time figures (“Ravens of Starvation”), and a couple outro riffs ripped from the pages of American groove metal (“The Black Pope,” “1347-1352”). All of these musical diversions should sound a jumbled mess, but the band wisely limits the number of riffs per song, extracting every once of venom and steel from each passage before moving to the next. The final product is a proudly Polish death metal record with prog and groove flourishes, paying homage to their predecessors while blazing new paths forward.

The band make a strong statement for their style, but there are still areas that could use tightening. Some of the best moments on the album end up feeling like afterthoughts when they should be highlights. The riffs ending “The Black Pope,” and “1347-1352” are neck-snappers, but they stand out awkwardly when used as a fadeout. There are two passages where the tempo and chromaticism relent and the music breathes—in the choral section of “Betrayed Faith” and the excellent denouement of closer “The Ascension of Abaddon”—but amongst the 50-minute runtime I’m disappointed there weren’t more asides like this to break up the chaos. And speaking of runtime, while I mentioned the band judiciously handles the number of riffs in their songs, some of these patterns run just past their natural finish line (see the ends of “Stella Peccatorum” and “Betrayed Faith”).

I’m happy to report that Disloyal have quietly released a quality death metal record that punches well above its weight. It takes some time to get used to the cramped production and the unrelenting nature of the lengthy, seamless compositions, but once you accept the invitation, Divine Miasmata has a world of thinking man’s brutality in store for you. Anyone yearning for the good ol’ days of Decapitated and Behemoth should give their lesser-known countrymen a spin, and fans of the proggier, blackened side of metal should pop in here as well. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for the next record from these gents, and will gladly press play on Divine Miasmata the next time I need a blasphemous tongue-lashing.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s
Label: Black Lion Records | Bandcamp
Websites: facebook.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: July 26, 2024

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