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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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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Thirty-two minutes is all it takes for Retching to deliver eight slashing cuts of riff-driven, blasty, gore-soaked death, American-style. Charming the Decomposed is an old school brawler with a mean streak, chock to breaking point with parasitic grooves, gut-busting riffs, brutal percussive assaults, and appropriately grisly, brutal vocal eruptions. All that said, Charming the Decomposed doesn’t take itself too seriously, loading the rabid, bloodied collection with a variety of part goofy, part unsettling samples, adding to the album atmosphere, even if they are a little overdone at times (see bludgeoning opener “Moonlight Perversions/Gorging on Ecstasy”). Otherwise, efficient, high-energy cuts are the order of the day, drawing influence from the esteemed likes of early Exhumed, Mortician, Carcass and Cannibal Corpse.

“Shower Curtain Silhouette” builds from a rugged, grinding base, ratcheting up tension before exploding into speedy, punk-infused rampages, stomping verses, and skillfully fluctuating tempo shifts. The deceptive songwriting diversity poking through the muck and feral abuse adds a layer of intrigue to otherwise more traditional, blunt force beatings, amid a couple of less impactful tunes. Another of the album’s stronger examples, “Septic Entombment,” features a creative arrangement, allowing breathing space for the meaty, yet wickedly infectious riffs and bouncing grooves to ride shotgun with aggressive, blast-riddled surges. Retching operates effectively in high-speed savagery, yet the writing tends to appeal most when mixed with slower, malevolent tempos, lending a doomy, leaden weight to proceedings, such as the tormenting melodies and ominous vibes emanating from “Fetid Abattoir.”

Energy rarely drops, as brutality and raw-boned explosions of speed and blast-riddled mayhem ensue. Retching wisely integrate structural and tempo variety, coupled with razor-fine slivers of melody and raucous, crunchy riffs to stave off monotony and lend the album an infectiously headbangable streak. Along with the aforementioned tunes, this is further highlighted on the brooding, ominous swagger of ‘Vulgar Celluloid Trophy”. The anonymous duo of Latex (drums, vox) and Mondo (guitars) forge a powerhouse combo, perfectly suited to the lean, mean, and cutthroat nature of the album’s tight construction. Latex whips together a punchy, inventive performance behind the kit, proving adept at deploying slower, groovier rhythms and finesse to go with the rip-snorting blasts and thrashy tempos. His serviceable vocals get the job done, adding a gritty, guttural edge. Meanwhile, partner in crime Mondo serves up an unhealthy dose of meaty, genuinely catchy riffs, which, if maintained consistently across the album, may have elevated a solid experience into something more substantial. Still, there is some excellent axework and riffs to sink into.

Retching’s impressively no-nonsense debut won’t challenge the upper tier of death metal albums in 2025 or threaten many year-end lists. But what it does, it does well, with a no-fuss, belligerent charm that is easy to like. While there is little fat or unnecessary bloat to be found, the songwriting has room for improvement to live up to the quality of the album’s stronger cuts and create a more consistent, compelling listen. However, signs are bright and the potential promising for Retching to build something more formidable down the track.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 22nd, 2025

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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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Blacklist may be newer to the scene, having established themselves a mere six years ago, but they harken back to the sounds of thrashteryear. That means references to legends like Exodus, Zoetrope, and Dark Angel abound on With Murderous Intent. However, Blacklist aren’t your stock standard, rehashed thrash worship. Modern death metal and melodic black metal threads weave deftly throughout this latest outing, in much the same manner as heard from Crypta. Informing the thematic content of the record, classic campy horror a la Exhumed takes center stage, injecting oodles of stupid fun into this deadly platter of hooky riffs and exuberant rhythms.

As implied in my introduction, Blacklist’s greatest strength on With Murderous Intent is their mastery of momentum and movement. Dynamic songwriting stuffed to the tonsils with killer riffs, righteous guitar wizardry, thunderous beats, and a delightful blackened-rasp-boozy-bark vocal combo relentlessly hacks and slashes through fifty minutes of thrash metal muderdeathkillery. Opening duo “Cannibal” and “Blood Baptism” set the stage with rapid-fire D-beats, pummeling double-bass runs, ripping solos, and shredding riffs. Meanwhile, gang shouts of “HUMAN CONSUMPTION” in the former and “BLOOD BAPTISM” in the latter remind us all of the lost joys of cannibalism and ritual sacrifices, respectively. In order to disabuse me of the impression that With Murderous Intent only has one speed, mid-paced romps “The Shape” and “Kill the Coroner” stomp skulls while telling tall tales of horrific monsters and mad scientists hell-bent on my ultimate demise. Thrilling stuff. Detouring slightly from ravenous thrashing, a heavier death metal influence finds purchase on bangers like the subtly neoclassical “Blood Baptism” and the rabid “The Dismemberment Blade.” Wielding the scythe of death with scalpel-like precision, these tracks bring a vital spice to the record, while more melodic proclivities and constantly evolving songwriting bolster the record’s storytelling in longer numbers like “The Shape” and album highlights “Naturom Demonto” and “With Murderous Intent.” In short, almost every fascia connected to With Murderous Intent’s ten hash-slinging slashers serves to elevate Blacklist’s music, and leaves no room for boredom to brew.

Impressive though With Murderous Intent undoubtedly is, there is a lot of material to unpack. Three songs clock in above six minutes (one of those right on the cusp of eight), and most others settle between four and six minutes. All of a sudden nearly an hour transpires in a single run. Thanks to Blacklist’s excellent pacing and track arrangement, this record’s runtime feels closer to forty minutes than the actual fifty. However, I often feel just a touch winded by the time the admittedly awesome title track closer wraps up. Unfortunately for me, that negatively impacts the record’s immediate replay value. Compounding this drawback, “Lethal Infection” and “Never Sleep Again” fall short of the high mark established by the overwhelming majority of With Murderous Intent’s material. Solid tracks on their own, passionately performed and enjoyable in the moment, they are regrettably less compelling and less memorable than all of their album mates—especially so positioned back-to-back between two of the album’s best.

There is a lot to love in With Murderous Intent. Blacklist’s particular application of a tried and true thrash blueprint, tempered with death metal and black metal touches and given definition by their 80s horror theme, makes for a wildly entertaining and deeply enjoyable experience. It may not be the easiest to get through if you are pressed for time, and a couple of its selections don’t live up to the standard of Blacklist’s elite. Fortunately, those are but minor faults. The truth is, I haven’t had this much fun with modern thrash in quite some time. You deserve to have some fun, too. Get Blacklisted today!

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: facebook.com/BlacklistMetal | blacklistthrashmetal.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: August 2nd, 2024

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Turns out, while Amalgamations of Gore definitely has slams (“Auto Anthropophagy,” “Trampled Under 18 Wheels”) and dumb slamples (1956 Invasion of the Body Snatchers on “Xenomorphic Organ Rearrangement,” among others), most of this just over Reign in Blood-length smattering avoids falling too heavily into the most soul-sucking tropes of throw-away chugdown acts. Much of that eschewing of predictable tropes rests on the truth that Amalgamations is simply not a slam album, at least not first. Instead, Mutilation Barbecue plays a hardcore flavored, multi-influence brand of modern, 90s-toned death metal. In their frenetic riff tumbles and somewhat heroic leadwork, this young act comes off more like the persistent cut of an early Exhumed than other contemporary goremeisters like 200 Stab Wounds or Fulci. That difference goes a long way.

Despite nothing truly unpredictable happening throughout the whammy-addled and throaty run that Amalgamations spurts, its particular blend of sounds never feels tired. Well, it almost does with the built-for-stage slow build of the “Amalgamations of Gore/Skin Display,” but once that breaks away into its vocal-driven movement, Mutilation Barbecue can’t help but show a grooving swagger amongst its shredded barks and brain-rattling snare clang. And later, seeing this same kind of groove work amongst sneaky lead breaks, pinch harmonic flair, and foot-shuffling hardcore patterns, songs like “Abortion Ambulance” and “Trampled Under 18 Wheels” possess the manic energy of Acid Bath ripping through brutal death motions. I wouldn’t suggest that these spry buckeyes take little influence from death metal—a number of riffs ring tried and true to the tattered tremolo and trudge of bands like Skinless and others of that ilk—but there’s just a little extra under the hood.

Though, where enjoyment of Amalgamations can fly a bit off the rails is in its less-than-stellar production. I don’t expect death metal in this vein to be wildly dynamic, and at its lower DR value, the mix still has good placement of sounds and the kick has less clack than punch. Seasoned engineer of scuzzy acts Will Killingsworth provides a crusted warmth to this lively collection. However, volume-boosted leads and pinches collide against bright and sibilant crashes can cause momentary crackles that push beyond the acceptably crunchy live-action sound that Mutilation Barbecue chases. Were Amalgamations any longer or with more temporary breaks in tempo like “Carcass Compost,” these searing sounds could present a major issue.

As it stands, Mutilation Barbecue has left a greater mark on my memory than I would have assumed at a passing glance. Amalgamations of Gore does just about everything right that a scrappy death metal act could do in this saturated market. Alongside neighbors-in-state Abraded, Mutilation Barbecue fills a gap in pit-fiending Cleveland metro—the Midwest deserves to mosh too! Time will tell whether this troupe evolves in a matter that reflects their wild spirit rather than traveling down the underwhelming path of associates-in-grime 200 Stab Wounds or Sanguisugabogg.³ For now, keep an eye out for a show near you—these riffs have kick.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Maggot Stomp | Bandcamp⁴
Websites: mutilationbarbecue.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/mutilationbarbecue
Releases Worldwide: March 29th, 2024

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Werewolves peddle a style of grinding death metal that is simultaneously simple and maniacally overwhelming. Running at a svelte 34 minutes, the 9 songs contained herein are crafted for maximum impact. The subject matter is bloody, it’s misanthropic, and the music flies at a high enough BPM to ensure cardiac arrest during your deadlift session. The band credits Mortician as an influence, and while I get that in their frequent use of samples and general blood-soaked insanity, I hear more early Exhumed and Cattle Decapitation, the latter, particularly in the drumming department. Guitars unload ceaseless tremolo riffs designed to smash your face parts into the ground, while occasionally coming up for air to land some circle-pit-worthy groove metal reminiscent of Lamb of God (“My Enemies Look and Sound Like Me,” “Bring Me To The Kill”). Sam’s vocal delivery, emphasizing higher barks and eschewing Cookie Monster gutturals, renders lyrics generally discernible amongst the aural assault. The lyrical content, not something often pored over in this genre, works well for me in context. “Death metal till we die, fuck peace” doesn’t exactly land unless it’s wrapped in something appropriately unrestrained. Taken on its own, this three-quarters of a band would constitute a formidable addition to the world of modern death metal.

So much of what makes MELASLM work is wrapped up in the tour-de-force performance of drummer Dave Haley. Haley’s accomplishments with tech-death stalwarts Psycroptic precede him, though his pairing with more straightforward foaming-at-the-mouth death metal may raise some eyebrows for the uninitiated. Quoted as having “…zero fun making this record”—a statement I wholeheartedly believe—Haley’s pitch-perfect performance propels and solidifies every sonic inch of this album. Be it his ability to use mutating rhythms to sell a reoccurring riff (“Under the Ground,” “Do Not Hold Me Back”) or the physicality to handle brutally increasing tempo (“Brace for Impact,” “Neanderhell”), the drums really bring these songs to life. I’m of the opinion that the production puts the kit a little too far forward in the mix, but the playing on this album is nearly flawless. For anyone looking for a drum-forward record à la Hannes Grossman or Jamie Saint Merat, this is essential listening.

The few minor gripes I have with Werewolves’ formula tend to lie in song structure. The opening salvo of “Under the Ground” through “Brace for Impact” creates a general template of blasting caveman riff—crowd-killing breakdown—blasting caveman riff, all at warp speed, all convincing and well executed. But when doom-laden “Destroyer of Worlds” shows how Werewolves can summon up a completely different soundscape, I’m left wondering what other tricks they have up their sleeve as the back half of the album returns to blistering riffs and blasts. Listener fatigue could be an issue here as well, depending on your tolerance for the genre. While most of the tracks are kept in a tight 3-3:30 range, longer cuts like “I Know Nothing Then And Know Less Now” and “Do Not Hold Me Back” could stand to have some repetitive sections trimmed. But the longer I listened to MELASLM I found these issues to be mainly cosmetic, more about missed opportunities than any functional flaws.

My first foray into Werewolves’ brand of death metal has left me utterly apathetic about the world and hungry for more punishment. I’m convinced this band has a potentially electrifying album lurking somewhere in their future. Carving out a corner of metal with ignorant curb stomp riffing, stupendous drumming, and tongue-in-cheek lyrics has gotten them 90% of the way. With a little more attention paid to self-editing and continual pushing of their sonic envelope, I hope to see a truly vicious slice of death metal from these Aussies.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prosthetic Records
Websites: werewolvesdeathmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/werewolvesinhell
Releases Worldwide: August 11, 2023

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From the face-flaying launch of “Autocannibal Ecstacy” onward, you know you’re in an industrial meat grinder set to “Pulpify.” I haven’t the foggiest notion what an autocannibal is, but I know the song is a furious death ditty with berserk riffs and ghastly vocals flying in all directions like explosive vomit. It’s belligerent and chaotic and gets you on board immediately with its horrid gravitas. Frantic d-beating is the medium and madness on “Abundant Cadaveric Waste” and no effort is wasted putting your face in the hog troth and feeding you unspeakable filth. “Gut Mucher” reeks of Symphonies of Sickness in all the best ways and the doomy darkness of “Watching You Rot” borrows many pages from early Autopsy’s murder journals.

Perhaps the most enjoyable moment arrives with “Cremator,” which feels like a loving homage to Slaughter’s immortal Strappado opus and “Disintegrator/Incinerator” in particular. It’s so Slaughter that it actually hurts and it packs all the retro charm of that classic chestnut.² Track after track rips the band-aid off your raw skin and shoves slime leeches in the wound leaving you screaming for more. Whether it’s the Leprosy-esque approach that surfaces at times on “Chemical Lobotomy” or the fat, brutish grooves of “Sadistic Excruciator,” Dripping Decay put on a trauma clinic on how to write in-your-face raw, ugly death metal with a healthy grind influence while keeping things catchy as fook. This is just big, stupid mutant caveman fun and it gets under your skin like an alien sex parasite. The secret sauce is pus plasma and the Mr. Corpse patented drip system keeps it flowing loud and proud throughout the album’s perfectly concise runtime which is over in a nuclear flash leaving you stunned and reaching for the replay mechanism. Problems? Some of the 12 proper tracks are less wham-bam-eat-your-spam than others, but none are bad or require skipping. It’s also fair to say this style has been done many times before and Dripping Decay don’t bring anything especially new to rotpit. When the slime-encrusted brutality is this much fun though, who really cares?

Neil Smith’s classic death leads and ginormous grooves power the Drip delivery system and he skillfully plays with dread-inducing Winter-esque doom and scathing thrash as required to shake your feeble brain into jelly, keeping everything imbued with a vigorous punky energy. Sometimes his phrasing is very Schuldiner-esque, invoking the early days of Death, and other times there’s a distinct Autopsy-adjacent serial killer vibe to his playing. At no point does he lapse into stock chugs though there are mammoth chug grooves present and accounted for. Eric Stucke’s vocals should be ringfenced and condemned for public safety. He’s got the unhinged charm of Chris Reifert and also channels Carcass’ Bill Steer and Slaughter’s Dave Hewson as things descend into madness gravy and cheese turds. Meanwhile, Jason Adam Borton runs amok on the kit, force-feeding the listener hyperactive blastbeats and brutal grinding sections as he sees fit, making you motion nauseous in the process. The whole package is designed to disorient and entertain and it does that in grave spades.

Festering Grotesqueries is one helluva fun, disgusting platter of bodily fluid splatter and there’s a lot to like about what Dripping Decay pull off on their rollicking, rumbling debut. It’s more than the sum of its body parts and it gets better and better as it rolls along. I just keep hitting that replay thingee and letting all the vileness come back around. Put Dripping Decay in the IV and leave me hooked in, Uncle Fester.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Satanik Royality
Websites: drippingdecay.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/drippingdecay
Releases Worldwide: August 18th, 2023

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On the surface, Blight House sounds very much like a classic death metal and grindcore mashup, biased towards the caveman and gore variety of each genre, respectively, and then filtered through a raw and grimy production (think later Darkthrone mixed with Bloodgutter). Scooped guitars similar to Bloodgutter’s chug along at a stomping pace while subterranean gutturals trade tongues with phlegmy rasps very reminiscent of Darkthrone or Griiim, a pummeling and varied kit performance driving everything inexorably forward. In songwriting approach, Blight the Way reminds me of Exhumed, albeit slower, simplified and less refined. Simple, foolproof tunes are this album’s backbone and you’ll find that, whether you love or hate the material itself, a surprising percentage of it will, somehow, get stuck in your head.

Unfortunately, I belong to the latter group who feels little love for this record, because it’s a mess. Most of the riffs on display amount to base chugging, and sometimes those riffs feel either ill-fitting, clumsy, or dropped in without much consideration given to transition (“Dismembers Only,” “Cryptid Cutie,” “Acephalophilia III – Hopelessly Headless for You”). Goofy puns and off-the-wall gutter/gore humor rule the roost on Blight the Way, as expected, but most of this content bounces off me (“Walpurgis Date-Night,” “Grassquatch”) or makes me cringe (“Cryptid Cutie,” “Bible-Belt Baby Buffet”). Furthermore, the sonic experience is weird. Drums sometimes sound appropriately weighty (“Dismembers Only”) and other times flimsy (“Florida Man Hails Satan”). The same fate befalls the guitars, which boast big crunch one moment (“Death Will Not Be Enough”) but feel toothless the next (“Too Ugly to Live, Too Dumb to Die”). The weird part is that I don’t suspect these inconsistencies to be production issues, but rather ill-conceived songwriting choices that negatively impact how I perceive the individual pieces of each track. Notably, the bass guitar is by far the most consistent, burbling with a stout presence that takes advantage of every second it’s given.

Considering the negatives so far covered, it’s somewhat mysterious that so many bits and pieces Blight the Way get into my brain without my enthusiastic consent. In one example, guest vocals featured in “Too Ugly to Live, Too Dumb to Die” (courtesy of one Glumi UwUhammer) nail the eerie ethereal horror vibe, using that connection to gain purchase.² In another instance, despite the fact that I hate the chorus to “Bible-Belt Baby Buffet,” I still find myself growling it in the kitchen, of all places. Elsewhere, a couple cool ideas show potential that, if realized, could inspire a much-improved third record. Tracks like “Florida Man Hails Satan” and “Death Will Not Be Enough” offer adequate songwriting competency and variety in approach, bolstered by a chunk of the ineffable rabidity I expect from deathgrind, to briefly move the needle from “when will it end” into “I can work with this.”

Now we come to the hard part, an aspect of reviewing music that I have come to dislike the most: scoring. There is some measure of potential here, and Blight House clearly had a ton of fun making this short and scuzzy platter. But most of the time, I simply never enjoyed myself nor wished to come back once it was over. Listening to ninety percent of this album was difficult and at times painful. Sadly, the remaining ten percent which did leave a somewhat positive impression wasn’t enough to save it from harsh critique.

Rating: Embarrassing
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Syrup Moose Records
Websites: blighthouse.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/blighthouse
Releases Worldwide: August 4th, 2023

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