While No Peace manifests many upgrades from their (admittedly good) debut, the biggest win might be that No/Más firmly institutes their identity. The change isn’t drastic, and No Peace is a natural progression from Consume/Deny/Repent, but the sophisticated onslaught supplied on this sophomore sweep oozes with sneering confidence. Following in the footsteps of Nails, No/Más balances grindcore, death metal, and hardcore/crust tendencies with playful intelligence, weaving together Full of Hell’s caustic bite, Napalm Death’s thuggish simplicity, and Jungle Rot’s warped melodicism into a densely packed third of an hour. And if those touchstones aren’t enough, No/Más unleashes Sepultura-informed grooves and a slow leak of Pro-Pain into their secret sauce. Not to fret, though, because despite all the influences, No Peace presents as a unified vision, and one that will rouse languid listeners into a frothing fancy.

No/Más’ instrumentation on No Peace sets a high bar with energetic performances, snapping necks with whiplash-inducing riffs and a license to thrill. Joe Vasta’s bass bounces and chugs with in-your-face rumbles throughout No Peace (“Abolition,” “Cycle of Sacrifice”), wielding a thick, surly tone that’ll rabbit punch you into head-banging if you’re standing still. Drummer Henry Everitt wallops the skins hard enough to rattle your ear bones, battering with furious fills (“Abolition”) and dropping to half-time backbeats (“No Peace”) as songs demand. It’s not all about the beatdowns, though, as No/Más injects a welcome helping of melody into No Peace. John Letzkus’ guitar slices through the faff to drench the album in a satisfyingly saturated buzz (“Act of Killing,” “Spineless”), though he also takes the reins and dazzles with efficient, arpeggiated leads (“Leech”) that I wish appeared more. Vocalist Roger Rivadeneira rounds out the quartet, shouting, growling, and screeching in a varied attack that demonstrates a willingness to experiment that was largely absent from Consume/Deny/Repent. In total, No/Más fires on all cylinders throughout No Peace, and never gives you a moment to come up for air.

With only twenty-two minutes on tap, No/Más leaves no room for inessential slop. And besides the half-minute intro flush with wall-of-sound static and indistinct yelling, they wildly succeed. As you’d expect from any decent grindy endeavor, no song pushes past its distilled essence, staying just long enough to rip and bludgeon before getting the fuck out of the way for the next track to exact its toll. No song eclipses the three-minute mark, and each exudes a rabid savagery that seethes with conviction. Additionally, No Peace sounds great—sure, the dynamic range scores low, but it’s exactly how this brand of overstimulating ass-kicking should sound. It’s well-mixed, abrasive, and highlights the rhythm section without sacrificing the sparse six-string fortitude. I wish there were a few more songs like “Leech,” partly because No/Más excels with the tunefulness, but also because I think it would address the biggest opportunity with No Peace—the compact composition allows little room for songs to establish unique flavors, leaving them to sometimes blur together. In the end, though, this is only a minor quibble, and there are many great moments to appreciate.

No/Más hasn’t redefined the DNA of deathgrind with No Peace, but they have contributed a worthy addition to its annals. Corrosive, pummeling bangers streamlined with minimal frills sum up to a blistering platter I’ve quite enjoyed. While I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing No/Más live, this crew boasts the hallmarks of a band that whips a crowd into a frenzy and ends with a broken bone or missing tooth. With twelve tracks running so lean, No Peace is helplessly easy to spin again and again. If they keep pumping out tunes this good, I can’t wait for what comes next. No más? No. Más.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Redefining Darkness Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 13th, 2026

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Kicking off with the blistering “Unsafe at Any Speed,” Exhumed pull no punches in a typically exuberant, brutal yet wickedly infectious style. The riffs rip and burn with reckless abandon, drums set a scorching tempo, while the dueling vox, trade-off solos, and gut-punching grooves land vital blows of awesomeness. It feels familiar yet fresh and the right amount of pungent. Striking a balance between the sharp melodicism and grooving charms of modern classic Necrocracy, mutated with the blunt force savagery of Horror, and a dash of the more primitive goregrind stylings of their early days, Red Asphalt finds Exhumed subtly tweaking their formula to remain vibrantly dangerous deep into their career. Through modern refinement and sharp, technical execution, Exhumed maintain their gritty, no-frills edge and slick but organic sounding production, while the grindy, blast-riddled attack and sick dual vox ensure these old dogs still pack a brutal, unhinged punch.

Careening recklessly from one gnarly, adrenaline-fueled incident to the next, Exhumed mostly jam the gears high and slam the pedal to the floor, weaving twisted cables of melody through mangled wreckages of deathgrind mayhem and gore-soaked grooves. “Red Asphalt” unleashes thrashy uppercuts and Heartwork-inspired melodeath flair to killer effect. More measured cuts (“Shovelhead,” “Death on Four Wheels”) detonate slower, crushing devices, bloodied riffs, and dicing solos to slamming impact. When Exhumed are not grinding and pummeling with deathly intent, their thrashy tendencies take hold, offering a trademark punky, turbo-charged counterpoint on numerous high-octane scorchers (“Shock Trauma,” “The Iron Graveyard,” “Symphorophilia”). “Shock Trauma” deftly incorporates screaming, emergency siren solos into an explosive barrage of searing deathgrind battery, showing Exhumed can still blast and brutalize with the best of them.

Performances are uniformly tight and deranged, Harvey again proving an elite riff meister, sharpening his tools of the trade to whip up a frenzy with Philips, including a generous bounty of killer, infectious riffs and tasty, slashing solos. The shredding is top-grade stuff, adding a wild and reckless melodic edge to the album (check the ripping axe pyrotechnics on “Death on Four Wheels” and “Crawling from the Wreckage”). Vocally, Harvey and Sewage sound as savage as ever, forming one of the best dual vocal combos this side of Dying Fetus, albeit a gentle push forward in the mix would have been welcome. At a taut thirty-seven minutes, Red Asphalt blasts by in an efficient, addictive fashion, by the time “The Fumes” engulf your senses to close out the album. Aside from a couple of stock moments, Exhumed’s songwriting sounds energized and inspired, nearly thirty years since they dropped their debut.

Red Asphalt stands up to scrutiny as another high-quality modern platter to add to Exhumed’s ever-impressive repertoire. Exhumed rarely miss, testament to their dedication and skilled craftsmanship in remaining a bulldozing force in the modern death metal arena, carrying the Carcass-inspired torch, yet transcending the influence of their forebearers. Exhumed’s timelessly fun and feverish brand of old school brutality, filtered through a modern lens, and packed with sharp riffs, sharper hooks, is a thrashing, grooving, blasting good time. Red Asphalt arguably edges the past couple of Exhumed albums, resulting in a bloody crash course in deathgrind lunacy, grisly grooves, and melodic smarts.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stinking stream
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: exhumed.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/exhumedofficial
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

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Sporting a new bassist, saxophonist, and guitarist after 2018’s Neuromechanica, ByoNoiseGenerator (affectionately nicknamed BYONG by our goofy little community of metal nerds) cherrypick only the ripest fruits of the tech, brutal death, grind, mathcore, and jazz trees. Once these are harvested and reduced together, a strange alchemy occurs. Every element bursts with vibrancy, coalesces in defiance of expectation or reason, and scintillates the senses with deceiving depth. Subnormal Dives, in particular, might be the smartest record in BYONG’s discography so far (and possibly of the year overall). Its bizarre riffs elicit comparisons to everything ranging from Wormed to Wormhole,¹ but its writing illustrates surreal worlds twisted up by the madness of Unfathomable Ruination, 7 H. Target, Cyborg Octopus, or Imperial Triumphant. But despite being built of seemingly incompatible building blocks, Subnormal Dives as a whole is far beyond the sum of its parts.

BYONG use every tool at their disposal with an unusual mastery, but it’s the way they break “the rules” entirely in their application that sets them apart. The moment opener “Eb (D#)” stops throwing a violent tantrum to enter a beautiful bass/saxophone-driven, atmospheric send-off, it’s clear as day that BYONG don’t give a hoot about convention. Bonkers tracks “IQ69Exaltations,” “NoSuccessToday!,” and “I’mNot20Anymore (21Ne)” combines the strange allure of instrumental and vocal acrobatics with no shortage of grinding guitar squeals, unhinged saxophone abuse, and reckless percussive explosions. Role reversal in tracks like “UBV-76,” “NULL.state = PERMANENT; return VOID;,” and “deBroglieNeverExisted,” sees the saxophone standing in for a part I’d normally expect from a lead guitar, barely kept in line by scalpel-precise bass plucks, subterranean guttural burps, and fanciful cymbal clinks.

BYONG’s senile songwriting would be tricky to appreciate were it not so unashamedly fun and brimming with colorful personality. Even on a cursory listen to tracks like “LoveChargedDiveBombs” or bonus track “5mgInspiredVibes,” I fall head over heels for BYONG’s exuberance and zest. These characteristics define every moment of Subnormal Dives, which not only helps make memories in each and every one of its ten tracks, but also creates a laminar sense of flow to the whole affair despite its twitchy movements.

There was a time where I hated ByoNoiseGenerator’s music. It was more than a simple lack of understanding as it pertained to its construction or method. It was a visceral, primal repulsion to everything they were doing, sound and style. And yet I sit, happily spinning Subnormal Dives ad infinitum without a trace of fatigue. Its winning personality and unimpeachable songwriting not only won me over on its own merits, but also permanently reversed the polarity on my experience with BYONG’s past work. If that’s not a minor miracle in this fucked up world, then what else is?

Tracks to Check Out: “Eb (D#),” “NULL.state = PERMANENT; return VOID;,”” “LoveChargedDiveBombs,” “I’mNot20Anymore (21Ne)”

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Terror Corpse merge old timey underground aesthetics with a vital injection of their own character and modern appeal. Presenting a grimy and wickedly brutal collection of grind-encrusted old-school death, Terror Corpse both encompasses and deviates from the deathgrind formula of the EP, pivoting into deathlier, guttural realms. Any disappointment of the sound shift is swiftly bludgeoned on opening track “Pyre of Ash and Bone.” The song makes a hellish statement, hammering down violent, riffy death marches through menacing atmospheres, as uber low guttural vox, squealing leads, and livewire drumming seal the deal. Dobber Beverly again cements his status as a cult legend in extreme metal drumming. Also handling guitar duties with main vocalist Mat V, the duo reinforces the album’s retro, brutish charms, primitive clubbings, and ominous atmosphere with a vital collection of top-shelf riffs, mangled leads, and headbangable delights.

Ash Eclipses Flesh revels in shifting gears from dense, noisy chaos and relentless blasts to knuckle-dragging grooves, and monstrous, caverncore-esque swarms, Terror Corpse also incorporate infectious bursts of thrashy death and gnarled, punkish grind into the fray. After a solid, respectable beginning, Ash Eclipses Flesh really hits stride on third cut “Womb of the Hollow Earth,” and it’s a ripping, high-potency ride from here on in. Elsewhere, they delve into death-doom slogs, inflicted upon the devastating “Fallout Obliteration,” and punishing mid-section on the lurching, vicious stomp of “Sons of Perdition.” Refusing to neglect their classic grindcore and splattery deathgrind roots, Terror Corpse bring the filth and dual vox, including shrieky highs, to the thrashing intensity of “Nuclear Winter.” Meanwhile, the tremendous “The Hollow That Devours” intersperses cavernous double bass rumbles and thrashy bursts with immense mid-paced chuggery and thick, insidious grooves.

Versatile tinkering of their songwriting formula ensures the songs chart diverse territories, while remaining uncompromisingly brutal and wickedly infectious. Even the closing cover of Celtic Frost’s “Into the Crypts of Rays” doesn’t feel wasteful or tacked on. Terror Corpse inject the song’s anthemic, punky edge with their own beefed-up deathgrind spark. Beverly’s energetic, nuanced drumming proves essential as the album’s beating heart, driving the fluctuating pulse rate and need for speed, slick tempo shifts, and rambunctious, sewage-coated grooves. The power of the riff compels, not through technical wizardry, but courtesy of a firm understanding of the genre’s classic origins and grimy, atmospheric underpinnings. Infectious and rancidly beefy riffs, wildly unhinged leads, and sinister melodic currents define the excellent axework. There are no glaring flaws or major drawbacks preventing a strong recommendation. Perhaps you could argue Terror Corpse aren’t doing anything especially new or innovative, while the dominant, incomprehensible gutturals might be a tough sell for some listeners.

Twenty-twenty-five has delivered diverse treats across the metalverse, including top-notch death metal releases of varied persuasions within the genre. Ash Eclipses Flesh is another not to be missed. What they lack in bells, whistles, techy flair or innovation, Terror Corpse more than compensate through their authentic and fresh spin on a vintage sound. A tightly performed, superbly produced, and invigorating slab of riffy old school death, armed with gnarled deathgrind and grisly brutal death ammunition, Ash Eclipses Flesh is a surefire corker and end-of-year list disruptor.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent Records
Websites: Facebook | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

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Forged from the ashes of the mighty Gridlink, Barren Path emerge from the blistered earth, hellbent on blazing a pathway of grinding destruction amid charred bursts of white-hot extremity. Legendary grind axeman Takafumi Matsubara overcame a career-threatening injury to shred once more, leading the way with fellow Gridlinker Bryan Fajardo (drums), along with bassist Mauro Cordoba and guitarist Rory Kobzina, who both featured on Gridlink’s swansong, Coronet Juniper (2023). Adding to Barren Path’s gold-plated grind pedigree is the addition of vocalist Mitchell Luna (Maruta, Shock Withdrawal). In classic grind fashion, Barren Path’s anticipated debut Grieving doesn’t simply blur the lines between what constitutes an EP or LP, but fucking obliterates them across a scant but deadly thirteen minutes of calculated brutality. Like any quality grind, you can bank on the brief runtime carrying over triple the intensity of your average metal album, making repeat listens an adrenaline-charged breeze.

Gridlink always carried an air of grace about them. Yes, grace and grind may seem disparate entities; however, through their gnarly, yet pristinely performed, razor-sharp precision, melodicism and technical edge, Gridlink stood out from the pack. The heavy Gridlink representation thankfully doesn’t come off as a simple continuation of their legacy in a different guise. Sure, the melodic sensibilities, technicality, whiplashing speed, and machine-gun blasts may share similarities with the Gridlink name, including the distinctive guitar work of Matsubara. Yet make no mistake, Grieving is its own unhinged beast and vital new dimension for its architects to expand from.

Barren Path tenderizes the predominant grind attack with a deathly thump, complemented by an altogether beefier production and sonic profile. The guttural vocal eruptions add a brutal, bulldozing death metal edge, offsetting the predominant piercing screams and higher-pitched variations. From the pummeling abuse, deadly drumwork, and full throttle urgency of opener “Whimpering Echo,” through to the climaxing barrage of assaulting, belligerent deathgrind on “In the End… The Gift is Death,” Barren Path leaves nothing in the tank, upholding an incredible level of precision savagery across the album’s brief yet gripping runtime. Operating with ruthless efficiency into its sub-minute framework, “Primordial Black” brims with uncontrollable energy, as rabid dual vox, breakneck thrashy tidbits, and frayed blackened edges shade the song’s brutal deathgrind delivery. Comparably longer cuts (“The Insufferable Weight,” “Relinquish,” “Horizonless”) allow extra time for Barren Path to unleash their action-packed battery of creative songwriting and infectious songcraft.

Occasional melodic motif or techy passage aside (such as the playful mid-section and spoken word incantations of “Isolation Wound”), little room is reserved for palette cleansing moments, or an Nasum-esque circuit breaker groove. This is not suggestive that Grieving is one-dimensional or lacking in structural variety. Barren Path’s clever knack for drop on a dime tempo and riff changes, and deceptively catchy writing keeps the listener firmly dialed in. Matsubara and Kobzina’s deadly axework and visceral array of sharp, dissonant, and often infectious deathgrind riffage powers Barren Path’s blistering attack. Meanwhile, Fajardo delivers a beastly, expert display of primo deathgrind drumming, a controlled collision of lightspeed rhythms, crafty finesse, and full-throttle aggression. Grieving is also blessed with a killer production job and dynamic master, avoiding the pitfalls that can hamper modern grind affairs when saddled with compressed, overly loud profiles. Abrasive and relentless in execution, the sound is a burly, organic delight, keeping ear fatigue at bay and maintaining an air of clarity and sharpness without diluting Barren Path’s brutish traits.

Drawbacks are few and far between. As touched on, the short runtime leaves you hankering for more, and I’m curious to see how Barren Path develop their sound and perhaps expand upon the prominent death influence and hyperspeed thrash elements on future endeavors. Barren Path emerges from Gridlink’s formidable shadow to unleash a teeth-gnashing, refreshing debut, using their death-plated grind as a catalyst for carving through exciting fresh pastures. Though guilty of leaving the listener wanting more, the addictive replay value and quality songcraft largely fill the void of feeling marginally shortchanged. Barren Path’s violent attack, colorful chemistry, and precision, technical musicianship leave displaced jaws on the floor with the sheer intensity and locked-in tightness. Grieving is top-tier grind to batter the senses and soothe the mind.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Willowtip Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: October 21st, 2025

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Defigurement

With so many ingredients to unite, you may wonder what Defigurement actually sounds like. Gridlink’s Coronet Juniper, Full of Hell’s Coagulated Bliss, and Beaten to Death’s Sunrise over Rigor Mortis provide apt reference points. These albums imbue deceptively melodic hooks into grindcore’s caustic backdrop, a convention perpetuated on Endbryo. Gridlink’s own Takafumi Matsubara even appears on “Wounded Landscape,” imparting gorgeously malicious riffs. In addition to grindcore influences, Defigurement pays homage to System of a Down via the “Suite Pee”-tinged intro of “Shogun of Sorrow” and the Slayer “Rain in Blood” gallop heard in “Wounded Landscape.” Rather than aping these acts, though, Defigurement forges a stank all their own. Chaos is the name of the game, but not all of it is funneled through uniform, full-tilt abuse. Endbryo’s half-hour pumps blood and rhythm through sixteen tracks, featuring constant shifts in tempos and moods that make the music feel alive and unpredictable. The album is jam-packed with so many morsels that even after dozens of listens, I’m still discovering new details.

Conceiving such a diverse and layered soundscape requires heaps of vitality and musicianship, and Defigurement steps up to answer the challenge. From Mike Heller’s (Changeling, Azure Emote, ex-Fear Factory) atom-blasting drums to Kevin Fetus’s snaking leads and D.M.T.’s gritty bass, Endbryo brims with relentless vigor. Heller’s drum performance in particular elevates Defigurement’s character. Juggling blast beats, disco hi-hat frills (“Open Veins, Visceral Tapestry”), and jazzy phrasing (“We Are the Worst”) shouldn’t be this seamless, yet Heller’s nimble work provides the engine for the album’s mélange of styles. Rounding out the rhythm section, D.M.T.’s meaty bass grumbles and grooves in support, and a couple of intros even throw the spotlight on his throaty purr (“Wounded Landscape,” “Godtopsy”). Guitars attack from every direction, utilizing trem-picked blitzes (“Burnt by the Truth”), plaintive wails (“We Are the Worst”), and glossy shredding (“Godtopsy”). Matthias Joyce’s vocals are capable and versatile, sitting far enough back in the mix that they mesh smoothly with the music rather than overpowering it. Besides Matsubara, several other guests pop in, including Brian Hopp (Cephalic Carnage) and Leon Del Muerte (Impaled, ex-Nails). Endbryo boasts a potpourri of talent, and this bouquet reeks of grind beef.

Endbryo sounds great, even though some moments don’t effortlessly converge. Subgenres like grindcore don’t need much auditory contrast to be effective, but Endbryo boasts a DR7 anyway, benefiting the complex structure of its tracks. The finely-tuned mix allows listeners to appreciate the nuances of the performances within, notably the drumming; a lesser production could have obfuscated Heller’s unhinged sticksmanship. My only complaint is that with such a dense album, Defigurement doesn’t quite achieve the cohesion needed to stitch all of Endbryo’s fragments together. Piano-only interlude “Eternal Dusk” is a beautiful instrumental featured about halfway through. It allows you to take a breath before re-entering the maelstrom, but foreshadowing the melody earlier or including piano elsewhere would have strengthened its inclusion. Similarly, “Left in a Cold Rain” contains slowly swirling synths played under a distorted voice-over. Once again, this skillfully navigates the album’s pacing, but without more tethers to other tracks, it feels isolated from its surroundings. Despite these small shortcomings, Endbryo scores a resounding success.

Defigurement pulls no punches on Endbryo, hewing a slab of great experimental deathgrind. Their ferocity is bruising and their vision unyielding, and it’s rare I encounter music that demands so many repeated spins. This platter is captivating, and each time I think I have Endbryo figured out, the next listen corrects that notion. So many ideas loaded into thirty minutes might seem daunting, but Defigurement expertly balances intrigue and digestibility. Assuming Endbryo is only the beginning, I’ll wait on the edge of my seat to hear how the band’s sound develops.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nefarious Industries
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: October 17th, 2025

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If you thought June was hot, you aren’t ready for what July has in store. The thin metallic walls of these flimsy ducts warp and soften as the sweltering environs continue to challenge the definition of “habitable.” But I must force my minions to continue their work, as this duty is sacred. Our ravenous appetites cannot be slaked without the supplementary sustenance the Filter brings!

Thankfully, we rescued just enough scraps to put together a meager spread. Enjoy in moderation!

Kenstrosity’s Blackened Buds

Echoes of Gloom // The Mind’s Eternal Storm [July 12th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Queensland isn’t my first thought when considering locales for atmospheric black metal. A genre so often built upon frigid tones and icy melodies feels incongruous to the heat and beastliness of the Australian landscape. Yet, one-man atmoblack act Echoes of Gloom persists. Masterminded by one Dan Elkin, Echoes of Gloom evokes a warm, muggy, and morose spirit with debut record The Mind’s Eternal Storm. But unlike many of the atmospheric persuasion, Echoes of Gloom also injects a classic heavy metal attack and a vaguely punky/folky twist into their formula to keep interest high (“Immortality Manifest,” “Throes of Bereavement I”). Furthermore, Echoes of Gloom weaponizes their energetic take on depressing atmoblack such that even as my head bounces to the riffy groove of surprisingly propulsive numbers like “The Wandering Moon” and “Great Malignant Towers of Delirium,” a palpable pall looms ever present, sapping all color from life as I witness this work. This in turn translates well to the long form, as demonstrated by the epic two-part “Throes of Bereavement” suite and ripping ten-minute closer “Wanderer of the Mind’s Eternal Storm,” boasting dynamics uncommon in the atmospheric field. In sum, if you’re the kind of metal fan that struggles with the airier side of the spectrum, The Mind’s Eternal Storm might be a good place to start.

Witchyre // Witchy Forest Dance Contest [July 14th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Germany’s Witchyre answer a question nobody asked but everyone should: what would happen if black metal and dance music joined forces? With debut LP Witchy Forest Dance Contest, we get to experience this mad alchemy firsthand, and it is an absolute joy! The staunchly anti-fascist Witchyre take the raw sound everyone knows and pumps it full of groove, bounce, and uninhibited fun for a raucous 46 minutes. Evoking equal parts Darude and Darkthrone, bangers like “Let There be Light…,” “Witchy Forest Dance Party,” and “Lost in a Dream” burst with infectious energy that feels demonic and exuberant at the same time. The raw production of the metallic elements shouldn’t work with the glossy sheen of electronic doots, but Witchyre’s often pop-punky song structure that develops as these divergent aesthetics collide adeptly bridges the gap (“Spirits Twirling,” “The Vampire Witch,” “Dragon’s Breath”). My main gripe is that even at a reasonable 46 minutes, each song feels a bit bloated, and some dance elements feel recycled in multiple places (“The Spirits Robbed My Mind”). But don’t let that scare you away. Witchyre is a delightful little deviation from convention fit for fans of Curta’n Wall and Old Nick, and everyone should give it a whirl just for fun!

Owlswald’s Hidden Hoots

Sheev // Ate’s Alchemist [July 11th, 2025 – Ripple Music]

While stoner can be hit-or-miss, Ripple Music often delivers the goods. And with Berlin’s Sheev, they can add another notch to their sativa-flavored belt. Since 2017, the four-piece has been brewing their unique, progressive-infused stoner rock sound. On their second full-length, Ate’s Alchemist, Sheev doubles down on their sonic elixir, with a throwback prog-rock vibe that evokes the likes of Yes and Jethro Tull, but with heavy doses of grunge, jam and modern rock. Vocalist Nitzan Sheps’ provides a stripped-down and authentic performance, sounding like a cross between Muse’s Matt Bellamy and Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley. The rhythm section is particularly great here. Drummer Philipp Vogt’s kit work is exceptionally musical, with intricate cymbal patterns on tracks like “Elephant Trunk,” “Cul De Sac,” and “King Mustard II” that fuel deep-pocket grooves. He also provides Tool-like syncopated rhythms on tracks like “Tüdelüt” and “Henry” that lock with bassist Joshan Chaudhary. Chaudhary’s bass playing is rare in its prominence and clarity in the mix. He maintains a tight pocket while also venturing out regularly with nimbler, adventurous flurries that highlight his technical skill. Yeah, a couple of the longer songs get a little lost, but the album is packed with killer musicianship and vocal hooks that stick with you, so it barely matters. Overall, Sheev has delivered a solid record that I’ll be spinning a lot—and you should too.

Dephosphorus // Planetoktonos [July 18th, 2025 – Selfmadegod Records/7 Degrees Records/Nerve Altar]

Space…the final grind-tier. On their fifth album, Planetoktonos (“Planetkiller”), Greek astro-grind quartet Dephosphorus rejects normal grind classifications and instead annihilates worlds with a brutal, interstellar collision of grind, blackened death, and hardcore. Taking inspiration from the harsh sci-fi of James S.A. Corey’s The Expanse, Planetoktonos is a relentless twenty-eight-minute assault—a sonic asteroid belt of thick, menacing distortion and time-warped drumming that channels Dephosphorus’ raw, furious energy. “The Triumph of Science and Reason” and “After the Holocaust” attack with the ruthless speed of Nasum while others, such as “The Kinetics of a Superintelligence Explosion,” “Hunting for Dyson Spheres,” and “Calculating Infinity,” punctuate sludgy aggression with razor-sharp, shredding passages reminiscent of early Mastodon that offer contrasting technical and rhythmic hostility. Vocalist Panos Agoros’ despairing howls are a particular highlight, full of a gravelly, blackened urgency that sounds the alarm for an interplanetary attack. Gang vocals on tracks like “Living in a Metastable Universe” and “The Kinetics of a Superintelligence Explosion” add extra weight to his frantic performance, proving Dephosphorus can incinerate worlds and still have a blast doing it. Raw, intense, and violent, Planetokonos is a must-listen for fans seeking Remission-era energy.

Tyme’s Tattered Treats

Mortual // Altars of Brutality [July 4th, 2025 – Nuclear Winter Records]

From the fetid rainforests of Costa Rica, San Jose’s Mortual dropped their sneaky good death metal debut, Altar of Brutality, on Independence Day this year. Free of frills and fuckery, Justin Corpse and Master Killer—both have guitar, bass, and vocal credits here—go for the jugular, providing swarms of riffs entrenched in filthy, Floridian swamp waters and powdered with Jersey grit. Solo work comes fast, squealy, and furious as if graduated from the Azagthothian school of shred (“Dominion of Eternal Blasphemy,” “Skeletal Vortex”), as hints of early Deicide lurk within the chugging chunks of “Altar of Brutality” and whiffs of early Monstrosity float amongst the speedier nooks and crannies of “Divine Monstrosity.”¹ Incantationally cavernous, the vocals fit the OSDM mold to a tee, sitting spaciously fat and happy within Dan Lowndes’ great mix and master, which consequently draws out a bestial bass sound that permeates the entirety of Altar of Brutality with low-end menace. Chalo’s (Chemicide) drum performance warrants particular note, as, from the opening tom roll of “Mortuary Rites,” he proceeds to bash skulls throughout Altar of Brutality’s swift thirty-five-minute runtime with a brutal blitz of double-kicking and blast-beating kit abuse. Embodying a DIY work ethic that imbues these tracks with youthful energy and a wealth of death metal character, Mortual aren’t looking to reinvent the wheel as much as they’d like to crush you under its meaty treads, over and over again.

Stomach // Low Demon [July 18th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Droney, doomy, sweaty, and sludgy as fuck, Stomach’s blast furnace second album, Low Demon, is the antithesis of summer-fun metal. Hailing from Geneva, Illinois, Stomach is drummer/vocalist John Hoffman (Weekend Nachos) and guitarist Adam Tomlinson (Sick/Tired, Sea of Shit), who capably carry out their cacophonous work in such a way as to defy the fact that they’re only a duo.² At volume, and believe me, you’ll want to crank this fucker to eleven, Low Demon will have you retching up all that light beer you drank by the pool and crying for yer mom, as “Dredged” oozes, rib-rattling from the speakers, a continuous, four-and-a-half-minute chord-layered exercise in exponentially applied tonal pressure. With five tracks spanning just over forty-three minutes, there’s not a lot on Low Demon that’s in a hurry, and aside from sections of up-tempo doom riffs (“Get Through Winter”) and some downright grindery (“Oscillate”) offering respite from the otherwise crushing wall of sound, listening to Stomach is akin to being waterboarded with molasses. Heavy influences from Earth, Sunn O))), Crossed Out, and Grief—whose Come to Grief stands as a sludge staple—form the basis for much of Stomach’s sound, and while Primitive Man and Hell draw apt comparisons as well, I’m guessing you know what you’re getting into by now. Maniacally cinematic and far from light-hearted, Stomach’s Low Demon was everything I didn’t think I needed during this hot and humid-as-an-armpit-in-hell summer.

Killjoy’s Flutes of Fancy

Braia // Vertentes de lá e cá [July 10th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Bruno Maia is one of the most inventive and hardworking musicians that I know of. Best known for the whimsical Celtic folk metal of Tuatha de Danann, he also has his own folk rock side project, Braia. Vertentes de lá e cá explores the rich history and culture of the Minas Gerais state in his native country, Brazil.³ Bursting with more sweetness than a ripe mango, Vertentes de lá e cá sports a huge diversity of musical styles and instruments. A combination of flute, viola, and acoustic guitar forms the backbone of most of the songs, like the Irish jigs in “Vertentes” or the flitting melodies of “Princesa do Sul.” My ears also detect accordion (“O Cururu do Ingaí”), saxophone (“Serra das Letras”), harmonica (“Hipólita”), banjo (“Carrancas”), and spacey synth effects (“Pagode Mouro”). That last one might sound out of place, but it makes more sense after learning of the local tales of extraterrestrial encounters. Maia sings in only two of the twelve tracks (“Emboabas” and “Rei do Campo Grande”), but all 41 minutes should be engaging enough for listeners who are typically unmoved by instrumental music. Though thematically focused on one specific location, Vertentes de lá e cá deserves to be heard by the entire world.

Storchi // By Far Away [July 25th, 2025 – Self-Release]

I would guess that the “experimental” tag causes some degree of trepidation within most listeners. However, occasionally an artist executes a fresh new vision so confidently that I can’t help but wonder if it’s secretly been around for a long time. Storchi, an instrumental prog group from Kabri, Israel, utilizes a flute in creative ways. Its bright, jazzy demeanor almost functions as a substitute for a vocalist in terms of expressiveness and personality. The Middle Eastern flair combined with modest electronic elements reminds me of Hugo Kant’s flute-heavy multicultural trip-hop. The chunky palm-muted guitar and bass borrow the best aspects of djent alongside eccentrically dynamic drum tempos. There is premeditation amidst the chaos, though. The triplet tracks “Far,” “Further,” and “Furthest” scattered throughout By Far Away each offer a unique rendition of the same core flute tune. “Lagoona” and “Smoky” make good use of melodic reprisals at the very end to neatly close the loop on what might have otherwise felt like more disjointed songs. Despite frequent and abrupt stylistic shifts, Storchi manages to make the 31-minute runtime of By Far Away feel more enjoyable than jolting. Flute fanatics should take note.

ClarkKent’s Addictive Addition

Daron Malakian and Scars on Broadway // Addicted to the Violence [July 19th, 2025 – Scarred for Life]

Since System of a Down disbanded, guitarist Daron Malakian has gone on to release 3 full-length albums under the moniker Scars on Broadway between 2008 and 2025. This spinoff project has proven Malakian to be the oddball of the group, and this goofiness hasn’t mellowed since SOAD’s debut released 27 years ago. The energetic set of tunes on Addicted to the Violence mixes nu-metal, groove rock, and pop with plenty of synths to create some fun and catchy beats. Sure, you have to delve through some baffling lyrics,⁴ such as when Malakian sings that there’s “a tiger that’s riding on your back / And it’s singing out ‘Rawr! Rawr!'” (“Killing Spree”). Malakian also turns to the familiar theme of drug addiction that he and Serj have explored from “Sugar” to “Heroine” to “Chemicals.”⁵ This time around, it’s “Satan Hussein,” where he mixes Quaaludes and Vicodin with Jesus Christ. To offset the repetition within songs, Malakian has the sense to mix things up. There’s the nu-metal cuts of “Satan Hussein” and “Destroy the Power,” featuring energetic vocalizations and grooves, but there’s also a lot of pop (“You Destroy You”). The riffs may not be as wild or creative as times past, but Addicted to the Violence makes use of a variety of instruments that keep things fresh, from an organ (“Done Me Wrong”) to a mandolin (“You Destroy You”) to some sweet synth solos. There’s even a brief saxophone appearance to conclude the album. Yes, I know exactly what you’re thinking: “This sounds awesome!”

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Pennsylvania-based independent label Willowtip Records was established by Jason Tipton in the late ’90s. From humble beginnings, the label has stood the test of time, becoming one of the most respected and highly regarded record labels in the extreme metal scene. It takes something special to create a label with a consistently unfuckwithable roster of quality, innovative artists while retaining long-term integrity and durability. Willowtip is the self-proclaimed forward-thinking label, releasing a slew of modern classics and top-shelf albums that may have a lower profile but are more than worth your while.

This feature focuses on a pivotal early period in the label’s history that had a huge impact on my own extreme metal tastes. As such, I am highlighting some outstanding albums released by Willowtip between 2001-2006. Some are lesser-known; however, I will argue are must-listen releases from the label’s early golden era. I will skip over a couple of particularly pivotal albums from the period more suited for Yer Metal Is Olde honors; otherwise, it’s open slather. Welcome to the Willowtip Files.

Off the back of an especially gnarly, high-quality year for death metal of experimental, dissonant, and abrasive varieties, what better time to venture back into the vault of The Willowtip Files? The subject of this latest edition is none other than now-defunct New York tech-deathgrind powerhouse Kalibas and their intelligent and violently unhinged debut LP, Product of Hard Living, released way back in 2002. Reflected in the inspirational timeline of this feature’s focus, these were productive early years in the label’s storied history. However, through the passage of time, certain underground gems can be overlooked and fall into obscurity, despite being inspired albums of the time. Particularly suited to listeners who got on board with the latest albums from the likes of Pyrrhon and Replicant, those who enjoy the grindier, techier, and dissonant styles of death metal may find something to dig here. Kalibas stood out as a unique force to be reckoned with.

Featuring a talented cast of metal musicians and ex-members of bands including Lethargy, As the World Burns, and Agiel, Kalibas had a short but potent career as underground anarchists armed with a belligerent, serrated collection of weaponry, where tech, grind, disso-death and hardcore collide in ugly, challenging yet deceptively infectious ways. The choppy, technical, and challenging music within the Kalibas experience retains cohesion through the controlled chaos. Although far from accessible, the raw, yet well-defined and punchy production, coupled with the band’s penchant for unleashing jagged, deceptively catchy riffs and curb-stomping grooves, graft a surprisingly catchy edge to the album’s sneakily addictive streak. Of course, the album is devoid of more conventional songwriting structures and traditional songcraft. However, regular exhibits of deranged, infectiously riffy madness on grind-driven delights like the wickedly unhinged “All of Japa,” or swaggering grooves and drop-on-a-dime time changes and dynamic shifts of closer “Reroute the Foul” to drag you back for more.

Elsewhere, opener “Smells Like Menopause” hits like a sledgehammer upside the skull, leveraging blasty pummels, grindy screams and propulsive rhythms, with knuckle-dragging grooves and sharp technicality. Product of Hard Living is a clever, intricate beast that adroitly interlocks its brainy, dynamic songwriting and harsher escapades with the right amount of down-and-dirty deathgrind nastiness. Careening through filth-riden and tactful shifts, from thrashy deathgrind salvos and brain-scrambling attacks (“Floating in Concrete,” “Take the Plunge”), to noisy, sludge-riden hardcore rumbles (‘Rundown”) and ample terrain covered between, it’s an album chock-full of unpredictable twists. Product of Hard Living just breaks the thirty-minute barrier, and like similar extreme albums of its ilk, forms a near-perfect runtime to digest the abrasive shards of extremity and unconventional songwriting approach. without completely overwhelming the senses.

Product of Hard Living twists, contorts, and hurtles forth in a myriad of strange and artistic directions within the harsh paradigms of the extreme metal lens. Undeniably brutal, Kalibas’ debut album remains an underrated jewel in the early Willowtip canon, skillfully integrating harsh dissonance, abrasive textures, aggro intensity, and bone rattling grooves into intelligently constructed arrangements, featuring a fiercely inventive, oddly infectious songwriting streak. A challenging, though deeply rewarding listen.

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Grinding Mechanism of Torment picks up where its predecessor left off, albeit offering a freshly inspired take on the bare-bones aesthetics and raw buzz of the debut. First and foremost, this shit maintains the band’s brutally raging, guttural thrust and blast riddled form of deathgrind mayhem, featuring the thrashy, artery slashing hooks and gore spattered flair to do Exhumed and Impaled proud, Caustic Wound have sharpened their weapons of butchery and refined their sound, without compromising the blasty, grind-fueled punch and exhilarating blast of the debut. This is partly attributed to a cleaner, more refined, though still appropriately thick, beefy production job that stays true to their brutal underground roots. The tidier sonic aspects fail to diminish the savage old school charms and full throttle grind attacks that litter the album (“Advanced Killing Methods,” “Human Shield,” “Endless Grave,” “Dead Dog”).

Without discarding those classic death and grind influences of yesteryear, the influences reach a little broader, encompassing the occasional d-beaten Swedeath smackdown, hardcore stomp, and nods to the early days of legends such as Napalm Death, Cannibal Corpse and Terrorizer. Equipped with a bevy of killer riffs, the songs penetrate the memory bank. The buzzsawing, uppercutting riffs are uniformly strong, regardless of speed, but especially when Caustic Wound occasionally lay off the relentless pace and unleash the Leng Tch’e-esque groove and grind sections (check the sludgy, groovy crush of “Drone Terror” or insanely hooky riffs of “Blood Battery” as primo examples). Elsewhere, wild solos punctuate the chaos (“Infinite Chaos,” “Blackout”) and Clyde Lindstrom’s (Corpus Offal, Fetid) meaty, phlegmy vocal eruptions enlivens and adds a feral, guttural punch to proceedings, lending character and deceptive variety, not content to fall into being an unremarkable rhythmic afterthought. Not content to play it safe, closer “Into Cold Deaf Universe” dabbles in slow building, sludgy discordance, and samples before eventually mutating into a deadly deathgrind epic, unloading across nearly seven minutes of blasting and caterwauling noise, capping the album in momentously chaotic, violent fashion.

Despite the cleaner sonic palette, Grinding Mechanism of Torment packs a hefty wallop in the heaviness and brutality stakes, and is anything but a run-of-the-mill example of old school deathgrind. Chase Slaker and Max Bowman wield their axes with feral abandon amid lightning bursts of speed, vice-tight interlocking riffs, and divebombing solos. The riffs are a constant highlight and the deeper emphasis on thick, headbanging grooves unlocks some seriously chunky, infectious moments, such as the vicious outro of the grindy “Sniper Nest,” and swaggering grooves of “Horrible Earth Death.” Amidst the speedy focal point and blast riddled displays, the rhythm section of bassist Tony Wolfe and drummer Casey Moore do a bang-up job of driving this deathgrind killing machine and locking down the mean, violent grooves punctuating the album.

Death Posture established Caustic Wound as a deathgrind powerhouse to be reckoned with, embracing classic death and grind values, executed with fresh and frenzied flair. Some of those endearing, caveman charms of the debut cannot be recreated in the more refined format. As such Grinding Mechanism of Torment may lose some of the wild, unhinged edges of the debut. However, the album compensates through its addictive riffcraft and diverse, though still plenty brutal display of deathgrind lunacy, expanding their songwriting scope and marking a grisly, bone-crunching, and righteously infectious return.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: April 25th, 2025

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Recently, I’ve felt like my love life needed some spicing up, so I asked my partner if there was anything we could do. A strange smile appeared on his face, one I hadn’t seen for ages. I couldn’t help but get excited! He brought out an audio instructional booklet entitled To Serve and Protect—in his words, “the Dutch people have some methods that get his blood flowin’, if you know what I mean.” I didn’t know what to expect between the title that implied a familiar kink and the cover full of costumes; I’ve read that role play serves a lot of people well. But after a whole run through the audio booklet’s ideas, all I’ve been left with is a bad case of bedroom blues at the hands of Rectal Smegma. I don’t have to describe to you how uncomfortable that is. How can I tell my partner that I don’t ever want to do this again? — SPLATTERED AND CRUSTY

DEAR SPLATTERED AND CRUSTY:

We’ve all been there before. Engaging in novel romantic adventures promises a challenge for all involved. But I bet you might be wondering where To Serve and Protect may have gone wrong.

Nailing goregrind right in the bedroom involves tones that simultaneously offend and delight—a sick fascination pervades through its caked, regressive exterior. To Serve and Protect, in that regard, strays both cautious and calculated (without recklessness) in its riff-based attack. It’s not often in this spunky lane of oompa-punk rhythms that we hear resonant tom rolls and organic, banjo-string snapping snare rolls accompanying gutter-tier narratives. But through blackened gargle (“To Serve and Protect,” “Beyond Bigboy Beastiality”) and flushed flurry (“Bloompa,” “Cocaine and Abel”), this case of Rectal Smegma finds much aural pleasure. However, this same clarity and warmth robs each chapter of kink-loaded chaos of tonal personality—you know the kind of bass-ruptured thrusts or HM-2 gushing blowouts you’d hear in an early Mortician or Fluids instructional. The danger simply isn’t there.

To Serve and Protect thrives in a humor that finds little engorgement outside the words which aim to stimulate. At surface level, chapters like “Her Truffle Butter Makes Me Stutter” or “Slow, Deep and Extra Hard” promise narratives that deliver in unquantifiable loads on their raunchy intent. The accompaniment to each punchline though, rests often in samples that offer little foreplay to the idea, and a predictable punky tease. A differentiation that exists only in name does little good over the course of this Rectal Smegma exercise. Sure, you can open a riff pattern with a snort and groove (“Johnny (The Dedicated Dildo Dork)”) or a grind and response (“Epik”), but when you fall back on the same finishing strokes every time, the mood turns from throbbing to slogging all too quickly.

SPLATTERED AND CRUSTY, you and your partner deserve more, and not the kind of more that To Serve and Protect deems necessary. Quality instructional offerings do not need to run lengthy to provide the most impact to your love life. Repetition already plays a big factor in the reasons that we seek out exotic and tantalizing forms of coupling in the first place. It’s true that the well-traveled hands of Rectal Smegma display affixable energy at important times of their work, like the introductory grooving “Ballsnack” and late-game pick-me-up “Cough Syrup Suppository.” Energy and enthusiasm can go a long way in masking tired instructions, though—what’s a flustered lover to do with seventeen similar lessons on the same theme? While I’m sure Rectal Smegma meant no harm in serving their brand in excess, To Serve and Protect doesn’t give its wanting audience many reasons to dig into its bulging material beyond a sampling.

Other options exist out there, of course—a little Cock and Ball Torture or Gutalax or younger Rectal Smegma may provide you more in the way of bubbling debauchery or busted-tone punishment that will enliven your downtime activities. We here at Angry Metal Guy take pride in assisting where we can, even if it means backing you in breaking it to your partner that To Serve and Protect doesn’t live up to the trashy standards on which Rectal Smegma has staked their latest claim. We want your smile to be genuine. We want your filth to be earned and welcome. We don’t want to leave you splattered, crusty, and unhappy. The lessons you learn should be rough with a tickle of intrigue, not just a replay of steady, jackhammering antics.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: ~190 kbps VBR mp3
Label: Rotten Roll Rex | Kernkraftritter Records
Website: rectalsmegma.com¹ | rectalsmegma.bandcamp.com²
Releases Worldwide: February 14th, 2025

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