Perhaps due to their sweltering abode, Necrofier draws black metal sustenance from the shivering environs of Scandinavia. Dissection is certainly an immediate reference point, if they excised the excursions into folky melodeath. Necrofier’s preferred melodicism swirls as a maelstrom of mobile power chords by guitarists Bakka and Semir Özerkan, propelled by the dexterous drumming of Dobber Beverly.² The influence of Watain also feels present, especially since Bakka’s rasp sounds quite a bit like E. And early Emperor reigns here as well, before they fully unbound Prometheus. Violins, synthesizers, and harpsichords are felt more than heard outright, balancing a sweet spot production-wise à la Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk. On the unfortunate side of the production is bassist Mat Valentine, who gets lost in the shuffle. Nevertheless, Transcend into Oblivion consistently delivers quality black metal that is melodic but dangerous.

Transcend into Oblivion progresses as three suites, each comprised of three songs. Together, they narrate a ‘Luciferian Night of the Dark Soul’: a spiritual awakening incites torment that ultimately engenders rebirth. Individually, they mostly play out as a collection of thematically-linked songs. “Fires of the Apocalypse, Light My Path” immediately kicks the door in (“Fires…I”) before kicking the door in again (“Fires…II”) and again—”Fires…III” is the strongest of the trio, but the listener begins wondering why these songs are presented as holistic units. The “Servants of Darkness, Guide My Way” trilogy comes closest to reaching suiteness. “Servants…I” starts with one of the album’s gnarliest trem riffs, “Servants…II” cools things down with an extended acoustic passage, and “Servants III” delightfully dips into doomy Middle-Eastern territory before black-metal blastoff. As for the “Horns of Destruction, Lift My Blade” triumvirate, it adds variety with d-beats, chunkier riffs, and a gong, but it feels like more of the same this deep into the album. There’s no real filler amongst the suites, but there aren’t any thrilling peaks either.

Keeping with their spiritualism, Necrofier nests numerology into Transcend into Oblivion, punctuating its three-song threesome with three instrumentals. For the most part, they effectively break up the black metal action. On the heels of the opening “Fires” suite, “Behold, the Birth of Ascension” conveys the onset of (re)birth pangs. Repurposing a melody from “Fires…III” with creepy bells and macabre piano, it cleverly inverts the typical function of an interlude, segueing out of a song rather than into one. More in the typical interlude camp is “Mystical Creation of Enlightenment.” Its Spanish-sounding acoustic plucks make for a soothing shift out of the savage “Servants” suite, while its ending modulation prefigures the ornery onset of the “Horns” suite. Oddly enough, it’s the eponymous instrumental that feels superfluous. “Toward the Necrofier” concludes the album with ominous space synths, incantatory spoken word, and tribal rhythms. “Horns…III,” however, ends with its own climax and a piano denouement, which makes the final instrumental feel like a coda to an album that doesn’t need more closure.

“Toward the Necrofier” does function as a serviceable springboard for a second spin of Transcend into Oblivion, an album which I ultimately recommend. It makes sense that Necrofier would cap off a work about rebirth with an eponymous song distilling the more unique elements of their sound. While Necrofier don’t fully realize their conceptual ambition, Transcend into Oblivion is sweet stuff regardless, demonstrating lots of promise for future outings. Black metal zealots of all stripes should strongly consider messing with these Texans.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed:256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

The post Necrofier – Transcend into Oblivion Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The Beauty of Obliteration demonstrates some mighty fine riff-smithing. This may be because Sleeping Giant—expanding upon the maxim that ‘two heads are better than one’—is working with three heads. The guitar Cerberus of Finnbogi Jökull, Árni Björn Björnsson, and Guðmundur Eiríksson wield an arsenal of doomy dirges (“Conqueror”), stonery shuffles (“Abysmal Flame”), and thrashy assaults (“Venom Ripper, Gorgon Blaster”). Some of these riffs even go straight to the source, boasting a Sabbathy swagger (“The Monk”). Early Mastodon certainly resonates throughout, but the guitarwork makes it clear that these Icelanders also get High on Fire. Indeed, the recurring shifts between stoner-doom and thrash, coupled with the beefy guitar tones, summon the presence of latter-day Matt Pike. But Sleeping Giant aren’t just their three-headed guitar monster; drummer Ásmundur Jóhannsson and bassist Einar Darri Einarsson hold down the low end. Einarsson in particular shines, tastefully filling up negative space with bluesy runs (“Conqueror”).

Rounding out Sleeping Giant’s lineup is vocalist Oddur Freyr Þorsteinsson, who gives The Beauty of Obliteration a death metal edge. Thusly calling the band death-doom, though, wouldn’t be accurate—’necrotic stoner-doom’ is my best attempt at describing the band’s layering of an extreme aesthetic over a mostly traditional riffing style. Þorsteinsson possesses a powerful guttural, reminding me of the low registers of Travis Ryan and Randy Blythe. He even dips into some slimy gurgling on “The Monk” as it shifts into a faster, more melodic gear. Though these gurgles provide contrast, it’s a contrast that doesn’t necessarily add to or accentuate the part. This gurgling is a microcosm of how I feel about the vocals on The Beauty of Obliteration as a whole. They are performed well and don’t overtly clash with the instrumentation, and yet I’m not sure if they are doing anything other than marking Sleeping Giant as ‘extreme.’

As a unit, Sleeping Giant have molded a debut that roves between riff styles, for better or worse. “Conqueror” and “Mobilizer of Evil” map out the terrain the rest of the album explores, showing a band comfortable with both low and high BPMs. “The Monk” gets closest to the kind of unhinged glory of early Mastodon, though its shift from doom to thrash feels a bit redundant, even at this early juncture in the album. The biggest curveball on The Beauty of Obliteration is its penultimate track, “Venom Rippers, Gorgon Blaster.” A thrash ripper under three minutes, it’s an enlivening change of pace from tracks that otherwise hover between four and nine minutes. It’s also an effective transition between the orgiastic riff-fest of “Slay the King of Hell” (my favorite track) and the closer. “Abysmal Flame” starts strong with a chunky monkey that morphs into an almost melodeath-style earworm. The sparse, feedbacky ending, however, is an underwhelming sendoff.

Their namesake may create unrealistic expectations, but Sleeping Giant has delivered the goods with their long-awaited debut. At 6 tracks in 35 minutes, The Beauty of Obliteration is a tight, well-produced package with tons of hummable riffs. Though the songwriting is by no means bad, the riffs themselves feel more noteworthy than the songs they populate. The gutturals give Sleeping Giant a different vibe than typical stoner-doom, but I hope that future outings see the vocals actively serving the songs more. If you dig giant riffs, you won’t want to sleep on these Icelanders.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V4 OR ~316 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Octopus Rising (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

The post Sleeping Giant – The Beauty of Obliteration Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Hällas

Panorama deftly delivers Hällas’s now-familiar take on heavy, psychedelic prog rock. Indeed, these Swedes still sound like Uriah Heep counseling Iron Maiden. Pre-release single “The Emissary” and closer “At the Summit” best encapsulate classic Hällas. On these tracks, Rickard Swahn and Marcus Petersson bounce between wee-da-lee guitarmonies, Ren-faire acoustic plucks, and driving riffage. Nicklas Malmqvist supplies texture via sparkling synthesizers and percussive organ. It is the infectious guitar/key interplays, however, that define Hällas. Towards the end of “At the Summit,” Swahn, Petersson, and Malmqvist unite for delicious harmonized noodling, building drama before a serene denouement. Wrapped in warm, 70s-sounding production fans have come to expect, Panorama supplies some of the strongest Hällas tunes yet.

Panorama’s experimentations, however, make it Hällas’s most singular statement. Its boldest innovation is “Above the Continuum,” a 20-minute, 7-part suite akin to the eponymous openers of Rush’s 2112 and Yes’s Close to the Edge. On this cinematic saga, Hällas brings Gregorian chants, strings, and horns to their brand of synth-rock. Floydian voice-overs materialize Panorama’s somber narrative, in which a hermit laments encroaching dystopia atop his tower. An imperceptible escalation that finally burrowed under my skin after ten or so listens, “Above the Continuum” is an early Song o’ the Year candidate.³ How does one follow such a sprawling epic? With a trotting jam, of course. On “Face of an Angel,” another pre-release single, drummer Kasper Eriksson rides a sleazy Thin Lizzy groove with bassist/vocalist Tommy Alexandersson, who lays down a droningly hooky chorus. Hällas has dropped crowd pleasers before (“Star Rider,” “Carry On”), but “Face of an Angel” is their poppiest ditty yet and the perfect counterbalance to the opening beast. It is “Bestiaus,” though, that truly spotlights Alexandersson’s vocals. His smoky baritone and booming bellow sit center stage on this affecting piano ballad, standing alone in Hällas’s catalogue.

Five scenes spliced into one holistic picture, Panorama is a grand album, which might not register when glancing at the runtime. Like every Hällas record, Panorama clocks in at just under 45 minutes, yet its more limited track count (5, instead of 7–8) renders every song utterly distinct. There is zero filler here, only questionable moments. “Above the Continuum” has abrupt transitions in its opening minutes, but they don’t hinder the track as a whole. Additionally, the immediate fadeout on the punk ending of “The Emissary” always frustrates me. Frustration is surely the intended effect, but Hällas could have stretched the part a few measures and achieved the same. And “Bestiaus” itself feels a little like a moment, striving for songhood but not quite reaching it. Still, it’s an elegant setup for “At the Summit”—an epic but unprotracted finale.

With Panorama, Hällas has delivered (why not?) their most adventurous album, but it’s also their best work to date. Excerpts hinted at excellence—Panorama achieves it. Per its namesake, Panorama provides a virtually seamless showcase of all that Hällas has done while splendidly surveying new terrain. A fun yet serious record, Panorama puts an angelic synth-rock face on a devilish narrative circulatory system. It’s only January, but these Swedes may have already dropped the neo- proto-metal album of 2026 (and a list-topping contender for yours truly).

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Äventyr Records
Websites: haellas.bandcamp.com | hallasband.com | facebook.com/haellas
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

The post Hällas – Panorama Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Let Water Flow sits nicely in the second-wave black metal lane. Perhaps the best touchstone for Moon Wisdom’s sound is Immortal. Similar to Diabolical Fullmoon Mysticism, “Intro” plucks gentle, atmosphere-drenched chords as the lead-in to the first proper song. “As Rain”—one of the advance singles—dashes from Kaelos’s epic riffing to Faith’s sinister screeching and Hexis’s galloping drum work. Tasty solos are a recurring theme across the album, similar to Havukruunu draping classic shred over Immortal black metal (“Frozen Soul,” “Solitude”). “Dark Shades,” the other advance single, demonstrates a more modern version of Moon Wisdom’s second-wave worship. The song’s sparse, textural bridge transforms its evil opening into an affecting gateway for mournful modulations and a furious finale. Throughout Let Water Flow, shifts between macabre delicacy and blackened crudity bring Lamp of Murmuur to mind.

The concise runtime of Let Water Flow cuts like a double-edged sword. It makes the album eminently relistenable but draws attention to inconsistent songwriting. “As Rain,” for instance, opens the album with dynamic concision, but its concluding solo ends abruptly, reading more like a bridge than a destination. “Ashen Winds” suffers a similar fate. It develops an engaging interplay between creepy and pummeling riffs that culminates too soon. Conversely, “Frozen Soul,” the mid-album curveball, could be trimmed. The song establishes an enchanting, melancholic vibe, but redundancy hits in its slow-building rock crescendo. “Dark Shades,” the last proper song, stands as the strongest track on Let Water Flow. It showcases Moon Wisdom’s talent for creating something epic that isn’t overlong. Unfortunately, the album (essentially) ends here; the brief “Lullaby of the Woods” puts the album to bed, but “Dark Shades” sounds like the band finally starting the day.

Let Water Flow possesses compelling qualities that, if accentuated, would cultivate Moon Wisdom’s sound. As mentioned, the band professes a depressive blackgaze influence. Sonically, this mostly unadorned record doesn’t really impart a gaze aesthetic. “Frozen Soul” comes closest to inspiring hypnotic shore-staring, especially in its enticing bass feature.¹ But the song, like the album, embodies gaze less through production effects and more through compositional dynamics. I actually like that Moon Wisdom doesn’t drown their guitarwork in reverb. Still, the sparse sections could be developed to give these songs more character. Moon Wisdom also cites a punk influence, but I didn’t detect much of this across Let Water Flow. Beyond “As Rain,” which contains a d-beat, nothing struck me (musically) as punk. A pretty non-punk element on the album is the violin on closer “Lullaby of the Woods.” More of this would have worked well, especially on the “gaze” sections.²

Let Water Flow—I’m surprised to say—had me experiencing Metal Deficiency.³ I commend Moon Wisdom’s impulse towards brevity, but the album feels like an EP with a short intro/conclusion framework tacked on. The inconsistent songwriting and underexplored derivations keep this debut from feeling vital and fully realized. At only 28 minutes, however, Let Water Flow is certainly worth a spin, especially if black metal is your jam. Moon Wisdom satisfy the second-wave itch while showing potential for more. If properly harnessed, their tendency towards terseness might produce a follow-up combating the scourge of Metal Fatigue.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2026

The post Moon Wisdom – Let Water Flow Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.¹ And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’² To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

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

On The Convalescence Agonies, Weeping Sores level up by scaling back. False Confession established that Moore and Schwegler of Pyrrhon fame could successfully craft a more plodding, brooding death metal, sounding like Morbid Angel making proclamations to My Dying Bride. At 56 minutes with multiple 9- and 10-minute songs, however, the album definitely fatigues. In comparison, The Convalescence Agonies clocks in at 43 minutes, energizing the listener by lurking towards its epic compositions. Moore’s climbing guitar and anguished screams in “Arctic Summer” segue into “Empty Vessel Hymn,” a heater showcasing Schwegler’s jazzy hands. The mid-album climax, “Sprawl in the City of Sorrow,” spreads chunky, blasty, and militaristic riffs across 9 breezy minutes. “Pleading for the Scythe” mixes delicate chords, lumbering beatdowns, and off-kilter shredding, setting the stage for the title track. “The Convalescence Agonies,” a 14-minute monster, boasts the stankiest, dumpiest chuggery on the entire album. Without compromising the scope of its songwriting, Weeping Sores have crafted a tighter, better-paced album than the debut.

False Confession stans might weep when learning that the violin of Gina Hendrika Eygenhuysen does not appear on The Convalescence Agonies. In its place is the cello of Annie Blythe, which directs a broader ensemble of ancillary instrumentation. Like Eygenhuysen’s violin, Blythe’s cello often occupies center stage, dramatizing sparse verses (“Arctic Summer”) and blasty tremolos (“The Convalescence Agonies”). Arguably, the deeper tone of the cello better suits the music, feeling like an extension of the scooped guitar tone. Weeping Sores also incorporate keyboards from Brendon Randall-Myers (Scarcity), which add a refined, almost proggy aura to caveman breakdowns and hyperspeed chugging (“Pleading for the Scythe”). There’s even banjo in “Sprawl…,” commingling with Blythe’s percussive cello to make a demented guitar lead far more unsettling.² Some listeners will miss the brighter, more melodically commanding presence of the violin. The Convalescence Agonies more than makes up for Eygenhuysen’s absence, however, with its wider array of sonic textures.

As Moore howls on the title track, the body’s pain ‘teaches nothing…no gift / But the passion of transfiguration.’³ Pain may not teach anything to the suffering speaker or Moore himself, but The Convalescence Agonies teaches us that Weepings Sores is one of the most promising contemporary death-doom projects. Moore and Schwegler have transfigured False Confession into something more beautiful without sacrificing their disgustingly awesome death metal core. Sadly, this TYMHM treatment may not arrive in time to register during Listurnalia. Consider, then, The Convalescence Agonies an honorary Honorable Mention for me (and several others around here, I suspect).

Tracks to Check Out: “Arctic Summer,” “Sprawl in the City of Sorrow,” “The Convalescence Agonies”

The post Weeping Sores – The Convalescence Agonies [Things You Might Have Missed 2025] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Pale Horse Ritual offers a bit more than straight Sabbath worship. While Diabolic Formation primarily deals in stoner/doom metal, much of its instrumentation hearkens to 70s psychedelic rock. Lead guitarist James Matheson, for example, lays down some total psych freakout solos (“Deflowered,” “Bloody Demon”). Spooky organ chords also contribute to the album’s vintage atmosphere (“D.E.D,” “A Beautiful End”). Together, these elements evoke Iron Butterfly and other such proto-metal acts. Nevertheless, Pale Horse Ritual ground their sound in pure Iommian goodness. Instrumental opener “Deflowered” announces Diabolic Formation’s riff-forward orientation, built around modulations of a simple yet satisfying flat-2 line. The descending chromatic figure of closer “A Beautiful End” is an album highlight, dragging listeners down to a warm, fuzzy hell. Similar to a contemporary band like Monolord, Pale Horse Ritual unabashedly revels in the undeniable power of a familiar riff.

Alas, Diabolic Formation feels familiar to the point where one-to-one comparisons can frequently be made. “Wickedness,” the first real ‘song’ on the album, provides the earliest instance of Sabbath aping. Its verse riff and accompanying vocal melody exactly replicate the first half of the “Iron Man” hook. The lyrics are also imitative; though not a direct lift, the narrator imploring his audience to ‘Call [him] Lucifer’ echoes “N.I.B.” Less overtly mimetic is “Bloody Demon.” Its main riff brings “Electric Funeral” to mind, and lyrics about the ‘prince of darkness’ and watchful ‘snake eyes’ summon Ozzy and Lemmy. Beyond Sabbath, Pale Horse Ritual comes close to sampling Iron Butterfly in “D.E.D.,” which recalls the iconic “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” phrase. Unfortunately, Diabolic Formation invites listeners to hunt for references.

Pale Horse Ritual do break from their Sabbathy mould in intriguing ways. Vocalist/bassist Paco is not Ozzy; he possesses more of a chill, mid-range croon. Paco effortlessly delivers catchy choruses, heightened by harmonies from rhythm guitarist Will Adams (“Wickedness,” “D.E.D.”). But he very much is Geezer; Paco’s fills and wah-wah stomps naturally play off Jonah Santa-Barbara’s drumming, putting these grooves into the Butler-Ward pocket (“Deflowered,” “Wickedness”). The biggest curveball on Diabolic Formation, however, is “Save You,” the mid-album acoustic break. Its delicate fingerpicking, ghostly whispers, and dreamy synths conjure a surprising artist from the 70s: Nick Drake. The on-the-nose, anti-religion lyrics draw attention away from the suppleness of Paco’s voice and Adams’s guitarwork. Nevertheless, it’s a beautiful track showcasing a side of their sound I wish Pale Horse Ritual explored further.

Diabolic Formation flourishes and flounders due to its familiarity. Even in a subgenre rooted in remembrance, there are too many direct echoes of Sabbath, Iron Butterfly, and the like here. Listeners might feel paranoid that every riff and chorus is plagiarized. And yet, Diabolic Formation is a good sounding record, with cozy tones and comforting atmosphere. If 2025 left you reeling from the loss of Ozzy, then Diabolic Formation is worth 39 minutes of your time. As a new purveyor of an old sound, Pale Horse Ritual can help you adjust to a new normal.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Throne Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

The post Pale Horse Ritual – Diabolic Formation Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The academic analogy suits Mongraf, given the background of its primary composer. Erik Aanonsen is polymathic; he serves as vocalist and guitarist, writes the music and lyrics, and even provides nykkelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle). Aanonsen also leverages his degree in film scoring as producer and recording engineer for Occultation.² With a keyboardist (Ingvill Trydal) and another fiddler in tow (Sunniva Molvær Ihlhaug), Monograf sculpt cinematic tracks that sound like a less droning Wyatt E. These songs weave serpentine riffs, atmospheric synths, and folky fiddling into a loud/quiet/loud tapestry. The fiddle melodies frequently take center stage, crescendoing into intense payoffs (“The Prophet,” “Cripplegate”). Despite being more compressed than a cinematic album should be, the production is delightfully organic, especially its crackling guitar tones. Essentially, Occultation scores its cover art: one can feel the heat rising in this druid-filled sonic desert.

Occultation explores a more metal subject than its post-rock predecessor, mostly with success. With album two, Monograf adds doom, progressive, and even extreme metal credentials to their CV.³ Aanonsen, second guitarist Martin Sivertsen, and bassist Hanna Sannes Aanonsen often begin songs with the droning simplicity of an Om-inspired riff that develops into complex noodling à la prog-era Opeth (“The Prophet,” “Occultation”). Drummer Erlend Markussen Kilane adds more complexity, roving between jazzy snare work, thundering tom hits, and scene-stealing fills (“Cripplegate,” “Carrion Seller”). Vocally, Aanonsen still delivers the ghostly cleans that dominate Nadir, but he adds a raspy shout to Occultation. For the most part, these harsh vocals create urgency that the music doesn’t quite call for. But occasionally, Monograf snags a catchy chorus out of Aanonsen’s shout (“Occultation”).

Monograf aptly structures Occultation as a whole, though the songwriting strategy grows repetitive. Occultation is a dyad; a mid-album breather (“Ashes”) divides halves comprised of two longer songs. “The Prophet” and “Cripplegate” kick things off with compelling call-and-response arrangements: the riffs call, the fiddle responds. “Ashes” is a welcome reprieve, smothering intimate acoustic chords and Aanonsen’s gorgeous cleans underneath drum flourishes that swell in volume. The track comes off, however, as a bit of an academic exercise. Once “Carrion Seller” kicks in, the listener realizes that the call-and-response song structure is something of a formula. Fortunately, closer “Occultation” varies the formula, feeling more like a slow burn than a riff/fiddle conversation.

Monograf should feel secure in their new, metal-adjacent specialization. Despite my criticism of Occultation’s repetitive songwriting, its 40-minute runtime invites repeat visitations of its alluring soundscape. Fans of drone and doom should especially take notice. While its folk-infused heaviness is not an intervention on par with the most recent Wyatt E. release, Occultation skillfully balances hypnotism and memorability in its riffwork. On monograph three, I suspect that Monograf will inch closer to the oasis in the desert that is the tenure track.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordic Mission
Websites: monograf.bandcamp.com/ | facebook.com/monografband | instagram.com/monografband
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

The post Monograf – Occultation Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Speed metal fans will be happy to hear that Night Danger consistently fulfills the promise of the genre’s adjective, with quality performances across the board. All but one of its songs gallop at the pace of the steed adorning its cover. To the list of Revenge’s self-professed classic influences, I would add the contemporary heavy metal band Century as a sonic touchstone, insofar as Night Danger tends to keep things up-tempo and, production-wise, traditional. The first half of the album races through songs that veer more in the classic direction, offering harmonized guitar melodies (“Black Sight”), fist-pumping choruses from Esteban ‘Hellfire’ Mejía (“Night Danger”), and impressive solos from lead guitarist Night Crawler (“Soldier’s Heart”). On the back half, Revenge delves into thrashier terrain, building songs around more menacing riffs (“Desire from Pain”) and stompier bridges (“The Devil Race”) that allow drummer Hell Avenger to show off his double bass skills. Despite really having only one speed, Night Danger doesn’t overstay its welcome; no song feels overlong, and the album sensibly clocks in at just under 40 minutes.

Even for speed metal aficionados, though, Night Danger will read less like a holistic album and more like a collection of similar songs. The title track, for example, follows up opener “Black Sight” with a similar kind of introduction: a riff punctuated by drum accents before blastoff. From there, “Night Danger” also mirrors the opener’s pre-solo, half-time bridge. By the time the intro riff to “Soldier’s Heart” rolls around at the midpoint, the listener feels as if they’ve already heard a version of it as the intro to “Night Danger.” Closer “Crushing Death” is one of the stronger cuts on the album, morphing its righteously thrashin’ riff into a jaunty verse and a chorus with uber melodic guitar tags. Nothing about it, however, makes it feel like a closer; it could just as easily live somewhere in the middle of Night Danger.

This is not to say, however, that there’s no songwriting variation to be found here. As the only mid-tempo track on Night Danger, “Misty Night” first comes to mind. Beyond its tempo, the song’s solo also contains a minute variation, picking up on the melody of the main riff before shredding the listener’s face off. Speaking of solos, “The Devil Race” refreshingly opens with one (and, yes, has one during the bridge). On the low end, bassist Camilo Hernandez is periodically noticeable, adding countermelodies that would make Steve Harris proud (“Night Danger,” “Desire from Pain”). Switching from strings to voices: Hellfire is a solid vocalist, but the gang vocals on “The Hammers Fall” add a refreshing flavor to the mix. All of these variations, however, are infrequent and virtually imperceptible.

Speed metal is gonna speed metal, but the lack of variety on Night Danger will likely pose issues for devotees and neophytes alike. Fans of the genre should dig this, but they’ll also crave a few more mid-tempo tracks to keep things interesting. Those less familiar with Revenge’s influences won’t easily forgive the album’s mono-temporality. Night Danger probably won’t turn you into a speed freak, but if you already are one, it’ll satisfy your need.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: revenge666.bandcamp.com/album/night-danger | facebook.com/revengespeed
Releases Worldwide: October 17th, 2025

The post Revenge – Night Danger Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

For the Souls We Have Lost succeeds at sounding like its inspirations. At the core of Harvest are barebones, Sabbathian riffs, reminiscent of the way My Dying Bride practices Sabbath revival on an album like The Angel and the Dark River. Vocally, Emanuele resembles Aaron Stainthorpe in both his clean and extreme registers. Emanuele and guitarist Fabio Torresan offer simple yet effective interplays between gothy croons, Iommian phrases, and macabre growls, especially on “Floating Leaves.” But no doom with gothic aspirations can do without gloomy atmosphere. In addition to supplying a second guitar, Matteo Gandolfi plays keyboards, adding texture via synthetic strings (“Floating Leaves”), choirs (“Born Alone”), and horns (“Shining Moon”). These elements nicely fill out the refreshingly open production of For the Souls We Have Lost, especially on closer “The Path of Life.” Harvest have crafted a debut that will transport listeners to a graveyard poetry reading in 1997, with Paradise Lost’s Gothic and Katatonia’s Brave Murder Day providing the soundtrack.

Doom is an inherently direct subgenre, but simplicity often holds For the Souls We Have Lost back. The main riffs in both “Hunter of Souls” and “Shining Moon” are a bit too straightforward; they would have benefited from some variation. On the songwriting front, most of these songs include a clean or acoustic guitar break in the middle (“Floating Leaves,” “Hunter of Souls,” “Shining Moon”). This is a common way to approach a bridge in doom, but it becomes a predictable pattern here. These sections also raise another issue: the dryness of the non-distorted guitar tones. Opener “Born Alone,” for example, begins with a two-chord progression played by a clean guitar lacking character. The song eventually kicks into heavy gear, but when it returns to its dry-clean progression in the middle, the song ends up feeling like a buildup without a payoff.

The vocals do occasionally elevate these songs, though they present their own challenges. On the clean side, Emanuele favors a mid-range croon that results in some memorable hooks (“Floating Leaves,” “Hunter of Souls”). At other points, however, the cleans don’t hit the ear in the best way. The verse to “In Shape of Beast” includes melodic jumps that are kind of catchy but that don’t mesh with the supporting music. Similarly, “Shining Moon” ends with a cappella vocals that waver when they should be commanding attention. On one song, the cleans sound like the work of a different vocalist. “Born Alone” drops a droning monotone atop its simple chord progression, which doesn’t do much to develop the melody.² Whereas the rest of the album has those satisfying, Stainthropean swings in inflection, “Born Alone” sets a flat—and retrospectively confusing—tone as the opener.

If 90s gothic doom is your home, then you probably won’t need to consult your doctor before taking For the Souls We Have Lost. Such listeners will find comfort across the album’s reasonable 37-minute runtime, particularly from “Floating Leaves” and “The Path of Life.” If, however, the subgenre is more like the Victorian house of an esoteric neighbor, then For the Souls We Have Lost probably won’t do much for you. The retro production won’t read as charmingly nostalgic, and the inconsistencies will prevent full immersion. Harvest have done a good job conjuring the matter and spirit of their influences; hopefully, their follow-up will play off their strengths to develop a unique identity.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: V0 mp3
Label: Octopus Rising Records (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: harvest-doom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/harvestdoom
Releases Worldwide: September 26th, 2025

The post Harvest — For the Souls We Have Lost Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.