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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The equation above is AMG’s freakishly rigid and completely objective algorithm for scoring albums and determining quality. We incorporate statistics and abstract algebra, which I understand are very complicated mathses, in order to get you the highest quality extreme music this side of the Hudson or Atlantic or Yangtze or wherever the hell you are. The trouble is, you bastards don’t listen to math (i.e. “hurr durr, Wilderun is so much better than this shit.”). So I listen to math because I’m a contributing citizen and patriot – I listen to mathcore for you. I wade through the cesspools of skronk and sass – RYM and Reddit – for the best of the best. I do it for the, like, three of you who dig it and the, like, eight billion of you who yell at teens to turn it off before shuffling back inside for a bowl of Great Grains. What I do is super mathematical, so you know it’s mega serious. Mathcore is about as unlistenable and scathing as it is a total sellout – so you can offend nearly everyone who hears it. Random rhythms, migraine-inducing tempo shifts, painful squeals, no sense of melody or counting, vocals a la cheese grater to the throat – it’s skronk. So enjoy my bounties, you three. The rest of you can fuck right off.

Commence panic chords!!

Deadguy // Near-Death Travel Services – While the mathcore world is deeply indebted to the likes of Converge, The Dillinger Escape Plan, and Botch, New Jersey’s Deadguy is your favorite mathcore band’s favorite mathcore band, and Near-Death Travel Services picks up right where 1995 stylistic landmark Fixation on a Coworker left off. It feels like a throwback to the 90’s, a rough and raw edge and bass-heavy thickness adding to the chaotic hardcore attack, desperate and vicious rhythms (“Kill Fee,” “Barn Burner”) as well as dwelling in the simmering cacophonies (“The Forever People,” “All Stick and No Carrot”). Near-Death Travel Services is a hardcore anthem at heart, with the madness of mathcore’s earliest innovators – it’s a return to form for Deadguy as if thirty years of silence never happened.

The Callous Daoboys // I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven – Everyone loves The Callous Daoboys. If you don’t fuck wit’ Carson Pace, Jackie Buckalew, and company, fuck right off. Compared to its sassy catalog, I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven is much more aggressive and in-your-face. The collective still embraces the wonky jazz- and flamenco-influenced movements and clean vocals (“Tears on Lambo Leather,” “Body Horror for Birds”), 2025 finding more of a traditional emo influence than ever (“Lemon,” “Two-Headed Trout”), the real meat of this album is a kick in the teeth, with a nearly deathcore heaviness assaulting the ears with blistering intensity (“Schizophrenic Legacy,” “III. Country Song in Reverse”). I Don’t Want to See You… feels like pure weaponization, yet it’s undeniably The Callous Daoboys in the best ways.

Pupil Slicer // Fleshwork – Something was missing in Pupil Slicer’s 2023 album Blossom. Whether it be the vulnerable alt-rock influence or more experimental songwriting, it felt like a distinct step down from the mechanical mathgrind insanity of Mirrors. Fleshwork fills that missing piece. Vocalist/guitarist Kate Davies and company, including new bassist Luke Booth, balance the surgical with the accessible through a thick haze of noise rock atmosphere and warm rumbling bass, tracks achieving a striking warmth and disorienting psychedelia through more subdued techniques (“Fleshwork,” “Nomad,” “Cenote”) and a savage blistering saturation in others (“Gordian,” “Black Scrawl”). It’s a simple trick to balance industrial precision with noisy warmth but it pays dividends for the London trio: Pupil Slicer releases its best album yet.

Kaonashi // I Want to Go Home. – TikTok mathcore feels oxymoronic, but Philly’s Kaonashi gained more traction on the platform than any other band of the same ilk.¹ Gaining notoriety from Peter Rono’s controversial vocals – more howl than scream – the act injects a far more prominent dose of post-hardcore, punk, and emo into its story-driven approach. Mathcore’s stinging panic chords and off-kilter arrhythmic chugs are present, but given the vocals and lyrical focuses on mental health, childhood traumas, and relationships, it’s a controversial act to begin with, having more in common in melody and theme with Midwest emo or City of Caterpillar-esque screamo. I Want to Go Home. is a jagged, inspiring, awkward, powerful, and overlong product of a truly unique act with a divisive style.

Theophonos // Allegheny Rains – The man behind the concluded Serpent Column project, Detroit’s Jimmy Hamzey, fuses a scathingly dissonant black metal attack reminiscent of Ceremony of Silence with the hardcore attitude and jagged rhythms of Converge, resulting in a more chaotic, mathier Plebeian Grandstand. Allegheny Rains, his third full-length, continues the distinctly American industrialist soundscape established in Ashes in the Huron River, combining the all-out assaults of pitch-black chaos with whirlwinds of panic chords and pick sweeps (“Death in the Current Year,” “Gray Shovels”) to punky hardcore romps (“When the Future Arrived,” “Fragility of Spring”), and ominous crawls through densely dark textures (“The Fulcrum,” “Edelweiss, My Love”). AI art aside, Allegheny Rains is a dark blaster that serves to get the avant-garde black metal fans some rhythmic chaos and to compel mathcore fans to get some culture for once.

fallfiftyfeet // Counterfeit Recollections – fallfiftyfeet is all about variety. Establishing their sound quietly through a debut full-length four years ago and scattered splits, the West Virginia trio’s foundation of metalcore – yes, the sellout kind – is built upon by post-hardcore vocals, screamo grinds, and mathcore’s warped melodics. Featuring crushing breakdowns and poppy choruses that feel straight outta Hot Topic in 2009 (“Counterfeit Recollections,” “Best Revenge”), ominous clashes of the brutal chugs and dissonant melodics (“Disarrangement,” “Phantom Growing Pains”), and mathy beatdowns (“The Kingsport Curse,” “Horror Tropes”). What’s notable is that fallfiftyfeet doesn’t necessarily fall into the late-2000s metalcore stereotype because their melodic template is rooted in the Botch, even if their songs sound like B-sides of Asking Alexandria. The result is a metalcore album you can feel slightly better about blaring wit’ ur homiez.

Adobe Homes // Años – Albuquerque quartet Adobe Homes is more the screamo side of mathcore you see in bands like Frail Body, Ostraca, or the tragically Dolph-neglected Massa Nera – the line between chaos and yearning is blurred. To be fair, you’d be remiss to turn on a few tracks and hear a screamier rendition of math rock shiftiness in Cap’n Jazz or Pianos Become the Teeth (“Return”), complete with emotional chord progressions, complex layered plucking, desperate shrieks, and melancholy singing. Doin’ my home state proud with the skramz a la mathy rhythms and manic drumming (“Tennamis,” “Satandelay Me¡ White Empress,”² “Pals”), emo anthems fed through the Delta Sleep machine (“Pacheco,” “File Under ‘Heartache’ for 2010-12”) and placid and heartfelt instrumental pieces (“Return,” “Translated into Flesh”). Adobe Homes is gentle and yearning, its mathcore attack more like a pillow fight, but its emotion more than compensates.

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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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A tick under ten minutes is all the wily Finnish heavyweights need to batter your senses and spike your adrenaline in typically violent fashion. While raw intensity and tautly wound balls of gnarled, punky riffs, dry-throated vox and cyclonic drumming remains at the forefront of Rotten Sound’s relentless mode of attack, their shrewd sense of melody, infectiously nasty riffcraft, and appreciation of the art of the down and dirty grind groove stands out from their peers. Mass Extinction may not stand amongst the band’s most essential work, but it certainly doesn’t feel phoned in or half-baked. Rotten Sound’s crafty tweaking of their trusty formula to remain fresh, coupled with youthful exuberance and seasoned rage, ensures they remain sonically and musically as sharp and intense as ever.

Rotten Sound continue deploying grind with a crunchy, punky d-beaten edge and Swedeath influence, combining modern Scando-grind with the classic spirit of the subgenre’s early forefathers. “Recycle” squeezes every ounce of energy, conviction, and barbed discordance from its accomplished architects, blasting and riffing at light speed, before detonating a trademark, beastly palette cleansing groove. It’s a lean, mean, furious delight. The song’s following counterparts largely follow suit in consistent quality and signature style, taking no prisoners. Rotten Sound mostly compensates for the lack of surprises with the sheer vitriolic rage and intensity they maintain on each release. Their steely edge showing no signs of softening, an impressive feat across such a lengthy career timespan, especially in grind years.

The chunky bulk of the material locks into full throttle savage mode, bursting with punky, belligerent fury (‘Polarized,” “Idealist,” “Empty Shells”). “Ride of the Future” incorporates sludgy, hefty riffs and grooves into its crusty assault, while “Brave New World” tinkers with greater tempo variation and snippets of melody within its sample-laden attack. Rotten Sound pack plenty into the EP’s scant runtime, with the only minor downside being the safety net familiarity and slight blurring of the songwriting lines on Mass Extinction’s rawest, fastest moments of white knuckled extremity. Keijo Niinimaa’s vocals sound as nasty and hateful as ever before, using global turbulence and political unrest as fuel for his vocal and lyrical spite. The rest of the band showcase typically impressive chops, tearing through each hyperspeed composition with tightly synced chemistry and sharp precision. Overall, the sonic profile is crisp and crunchy, with the right amount of filth in the guitar tone. Unfortunately, another brickwalled master brings the experience down a notch.

Mass Extinction marks another worthy entry into the unstoppable canon of one of grindcore’s enduring legends. Although it cannot contend with the band’s best works, Mass Extinction possesses the signature stamp of quality that has trademarked Rotten Sound’s career. Perfect for a rev-up or cathartic release, Rotten Sound hit the mark again, punching an exclamation point on the grind scene for 2025. Here’s hoping 2026 delivers another similarly brutal, top-notch year of grind.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Media Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: Official | Facebook | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 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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And before I continue, I just want to toss out a major caveat to those who’ve already made up their minds about the band. Never Give In isn’t going to change your mind if you haven’t connected with Austin or his band before, or if you just flat-out fucking hate their music. Today is the Day has been and always will be operating from a place of sincerity as told through the eyes and throat of its creator without any regard to the listener. Whether it’s the two-plus-hour double album Sadness Will Prevail or the all-out assault of In the Eyes of God or Temple of the Morning Star, Austin’s unflinching vision and honesty isn’t for everyone, as it’s told using what he feels is best for his message, not what others expect from him.

Now with that out of the way, Never Give In, much like its predecessor, sees Austin and company throwing even more curveballs and moods your way, but still retaining the viciousness and transparency of their best work. Opener “Divide and Conquer” comes closest to the industrialized grindcore of their early days, and even then, Austin keeps to a croon throughout, save for the backing screams. Outside of that, though, there are some eyebrow-raisers. “Secret Police,” another grindy slab of punked-out riffage, features a horn section that reminds me of Cake in an odd-but-good way.¹ Closer “The Cleansing” channels Austin’s inner Neil Young, pulling his love of Americana into a tale of a love gone wrong.

With all that said, not all of Never Give In sticks its landing. “I Got Nothin'” meanders a bit too long in one spot until the song’s final third, which is when Austin switches things up a little. “Pain and Frustration,” while featuring some phenomenal drumming by Colin Frecknall, also gets a bit stagnant as the song wears on. In fact, looking over my notes, it’s when Austin goes outside of his (and the listeners’) comfort zones that yield the best results on Never Give In. Going a bit further, I can say the same with Today is the Day’s collective output: the more daring the approach and delivery, the more visceral the result.

But at the end of the day, I’m but a witness to the storytelling of someone who’s not afraid to share his experiences in all their glories and ugliness, and the fact that we have yet more Today is the Day, given all that Austin’s had to endure, between loss, homelessness, and car crashes, is to be celebrated. It takes guts to paint an honest picture, and no one is as unflinching at it as Steve Austin. Like Chat Pile, Never Give In (and Today is the Day in general) may not be for everyone, but for those who appreciate it, they will have a lot to look forward to.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: SuperNova Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: October 3rd, 2025

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With a permanent² vocalist alongside Weisnewski’s own contributions, Truth Paste is closer to powerviolence or grind than previous outings. But a vague resemblance to these genres is as close as it gets. The record is a breezy 23 minutes across 11 tracks (check one: very short runtimes), and there are more passages of outright beatdown, screaming, chaotic metallic insanity (check 2: silly heavy and intense). But it’s what’s going on within that runtime, and both during and between those especially heavy moments that matters. Nuclear Dudes don’t waste a second. Opening on a bizarre tribute to Guns ‘n Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle”—which includes using that song’s literal intro as their own—the duo switch in a flash to an electro-grind(core), erratically accented by an array of eclectic sound effects, which is a recurrent style on the album. Approximately four and a half minutes in, it becomes clear that the preceding two tracks (“Napalm Life,” “Holiday Warfare”) functioned as a violent induction to themes that are to follow, as the title track ramps up to a pure hardcore breakdown to a woman crying “ohhhh myy gawwd it’s—”, and the ensuing chuggery forms the first ‘breather’ for the listener. That concludes the most normal segment on the record.

Truth Paste is weird, but it’s not incoherent. Despite the apparently revolving door of blooping, whirring keys and sound effects, and tempo changes that would give an F1 driver whiplash (“Napalm Life,” “Dirty 20,” “Death at Burning Man”), the whole thing flows remarkably well. Pretty much all songs transition seamlessly from the previous with overlapping samples, humming melodies, basslines, or keyboard something-or-other. Nuclear Dudes hit their peak at moments when the electronica-mixed-with-guitar transforms into synthwave by way of grind, making for ridiculously fun grooves (“Concussion Protocol,” “Space Juice,” “Pelvis Presley”) if not some very entertaining melodic excursions. Or perhaps the best parts are during those rapid-fire switches, where goofy meets brutal and jaw-smashing breakdowns are followed or preceded by floaty ethereality (“Truth Paste,” “Juggalos for Congress”).

As a novelty band that takes not taking itself seriously quite seriously, Nuclear Dudes are doing everything right. Track titles are dumb, the movie samples cheesy, and the harsh vox mix is a wry recollection of a bygone bedroom death/grind era. Nuclear Dudes own every last second of it, from the roboticised vocals (“Napalm Life,” “Concussion Protocol,” “Cyrus the Virus”) to the videogame battle sequence vibes of the keyboard gymnastics (“Dirty 20,” “Space Juice”). It’s almost annoying how un-annoying it is. And since you effectively experience it as one extended track, given those instant transitions, it becomes very easy to just vibe with it and not worry about which song you’re actually hearing at any moment, or whether what you just heard was genius or just silly. But in having superior flow to its predecessors, Truth Paste also possesses fewer true standout moments. There are no lows, it’s true, but there are also no epic peaks—no “Many Knifes,” for instance. Then again, this record is committing more strongly to the meth-head electro-grind genre than Boss Blades, and in that respect, kind of smashes it.

If you want to have a very entertaining 23 minutes and six seconds, Truth Paste should be your go-to. Nuclear Dudes has taken recruiting a vocalist, and evolving into their full hybrid mad-subgenre form in their stride, as they continue to half-sprint, half-dance ahead. This record is so tight, fun, and irritatingly self-aware that personal taste is practically irrelevant. I’m no longer going to express surprise that anything Nuclear Dudes creates will be fucking great.

Rating: Great
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: September 5th, 2025

The post Nuclear Dudes – Truth Paste Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Abhorrent Expanse has a solid lineup, including caliber from Zebulon Pike, Celestiial, Obsequiae, and The Blight – even if its sound feels entirely convoluted. Following the controversial debut Gateways to Resplendence, Enter the Misanthropocene is largely the same, but its scope is larger, significantly reducing its drone content in favor of jazzy noodling, grind intensity, sprawling ambiance, and deconstructed death metal jaggedness. The drone that exists within is a short-lived sprawl that pops up periodically, giving a more abstract feel than its predecessor’s “dissodeath meeting drone metal in a dark alley behind the Kmart” vibe. Forty-eight minutes of whiplash-inducing tonal and tempo shifts, off-key twanging, random stoner sprawls, and an undeserved love for improv awaits – and I need a nap.

Say it with me: improv is bad. I get the whole avant-garde approach that John Zorn would drool over, that an improvised performance is a “never see it the same way twice” kind of deal, but that doesn’t mean it’s good. As we’ve seen with typically good bands like Neptunian Maximalism or Bunsenburner, relying on group chemistry instead of thoughtful songwriting to create a singular experience hardly pans out – and Enter the Misanthropocene is no exception. Moments of avant-garde clarity in which the instruments align shine in the twitching obscure grind (title track, “Assail the Density Matrix,” “Dissonant Aggressors”), short-lived minimalist drone (“Praise for Chaos,” “Dissonant Aggressors,” “Ascension Symptom Acceleration”), haunting ritualism (“Waves of Graves”), and ambient calm (“Kairos”). Death growls are sparse. Enter the Misanthropocene is so free jazz and avant-garde it forcibly drags nonconsenting listeners into what seems like obscenely high art…

…Or incompetent musicianship. Much of Abhorrent Expanse’s sound is rooted in utter nonsense, and one that often gets played really fast. While there’s certainly artistic discomfort aplenty to be found on this record, in which I can see some merit (“Waves of Graves,” “Drenched Onyx”), these are scattered moments among what sound like the plonks and twunks of a novice fiddling with a new guitar at Guitar Center. Atonal noodling and off-beat drumming accounts for the majority of its forty-eight minute runtime, sounding entirely random. The drone-doom moments feel off-beat and misaligned (“Praise for Chaos”), some ambient moments are so subtle and minimalist that they just cover John Cage’s 4’33” for a bit before eventually becoming audible (“Nephilim Disinterred”), and by the end of the ten-minute closer “Prostrate Before Chthonic Devourment” you might feel like you’ve been through a prostrate exam.

The promotion around Abhorrent Expanse relies on similarities to dissonant acts like Portal and Imperial Triumphant – but in order to do that, they’d actually have to write some songs first. Gateways to Resplendence was challenging and avant-garde but anchored to a respectable degree; Enter the Misanthropocene is a leaf on the wind, being blown by one avant-garde gust to another with no semblance of gravity to save it. Its high-art status is a divisive issue, as the directionless noodling can be seen as either a challenging piece of art or four dudes who don’t know how to play their instruments. But isn’t that the nature of art itself? Abhorrent Expanse holds a mirror to art itself, making us question what is drivel and what is erudite – through the improvised off-key noodling of someone who has arguably never picked up a guitar before.

Rating: 1.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Amalgam Music
Websites: abhorrentexpanse.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: August 15th, 2025

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Resembling acts like DEATHTRIPPA, Blind Equation’s current iteration diversifies its palette with elements of goth and emo, death and doom, synthwave, and melodic black metal. To these ears, those attributes recall everything from AFI, Fires in the Distance, Silhouette, Gunship, and Labyrinthus Stellarum. Depressive tones and desperate wails reminiscent of Ghost Bath or Acathexis also meld beautifully with a hopeful atmospheric counterpoint—a reflection of McHenry’s use of songwriting as a mechanism for catharsis and healing during his darkest moments during A Funeral in Purgatory’s development. Brutal outbursts reminiscent of Anaal Nathrakh or Igorrr, and the occasional deathcore gravity blast, provide an additional dynamic that brings immense metallic heft to an affair that, to my knowledge, doesn’t utilize a single guitar. Unified, these myriad characteristics coalesce into something stylistically unique, instrumentally fascinating, and emotionally compelling.

More importantly, A Funeral in Purgatory is an absolute joy to experience. With contrasting numbers as divergent as my personal favorites, the blisteringly fast and exuberant “Flashback (ft. Strawberry Hospital)” and beautiful death doom closer “Incomplete,” you might expect A Funeral in Purgatory to be disjointed and haphazard. But the opposite is true. Blind Equation’s masterful, meticulous detailing brings unity and adhesion to the record, such that when I hear the eviscerating brutality of “… in Purgatory” juxtaposed against the vibrant gallop of “Flashback,” or the goth-soaked “Nothing” against the metalcore-breakcore mashup “it feels like the end (ft. JOHNNASCUS),” it feels natural and invigorating. An increased presence of slower, more dramatic passages in “A Funeral… ” and “Relinquished Dreams” allows Blind Equation’s heart-wrenching roars and introspective tones to shine through as the brilliant light of higher-pitched synths and chips fade, enhancing what are already compelling songs by creating deeper valleys and taller peaks. Ultimately, this approach to songwriting permitted me very little opportunity to correctly predict what happened next, while still capturing my attention so completely that with each new song I was ready, almost desperate, for the next twist to whip me into another dimension.

However, not all dimensions are created equal, and there are a couple here that don’t quite reach the same echelon as Blind Equation’s best. First and foremost are the interludes, “⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆✟⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺” and “still.” Musically, they are pretty and offer plenty of emotion, but don’t add enough to the storytelling to feel essential to the overall experience. I could argue the former brings novelty to the split title tracks “A Funeral… ” and “… in Purgatory,” but the requisite connective tissue is flimsy all the same. In a similar manner, “mourn” is somewhat lackluster compared to its album mates. This could be an unfortunate circumstance brought about by its barebones instrumentation, which is a stark departure from everything presented over the previous seven tracks. It could also be that its core ideas feel a touch underdeveloped by comparison. Either way, it represents one of A Funeral in Purgatory’s minor weak points. While in no way a detractor on their own merit, Blind Equation’s AFI-esque clean vocals, which only feature in the first three tracks, would bring even greater cohesion to the whole if they featured more consistently throughout.

It goes without saying that I didn’t expect what Blind Equation delivered, nor did I expect to like it this much. At the same time, I really shouldn’t be surprised at all, considering nearly all of my favorite records this year have been wild and unorthodox. A Funeral in Purgatory represents another entry in that varied category, of which there is no doubt. But it’s also one of the most fun and engaging electronic music releases I’ve encountered this year. So if you don’t mind your metal chipped to oblivion, laced with ecstasy, dressed in all black, with a raven perched on its shoulder, then A Funeral in Purgatory might just be your poison.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Prosthetic Records
Websites: blindequation.bandcamp.com/album | facebook.com/blindequation
Releases Worldwide: July 18th, 2025

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Back to the Grindstone is a love letter feature dedicated to the appreciation of all things grindcore. This most extreme of extreme niche genres has been kicking since the late ’80s, growing in underground stature as the years march on. The rule of thumb to this feature is simple; spotlight will be on grind albums old and new, though will not include releases from the past five years, or albums previously covered on this website. Genre classics, underappreciated gems, old school and nu school will be covered, highlighting albums aimed at established fans and curious listeners interested in diving into the cesspool of the grind scene.

Despite being a big name in the history of grindcore, arguably New York’s legendary Brutal Truth is a touch underrated. While the band split in 2014, they left behind an excellent catalog of game-changing grind, highlighted by their first two LPs, 1992’s stone-cold classic, Extreme Conditions Demand Extreme Responses, and the subject of this feature piece, their experimental, wildly innovative sophomore album, 1994’s Need to Control. Already boasting an early grind classic under their belts courtesy of the nasty, precision slice of death powered grind of the debut, Brutal Truth turned the genre on its head with Need to Control. Originally, I planned to write this piece as a double whammy, Yer Metal is Olde/Grindstone feature in 2024. Unfortunately, after chasing my tail again, it didn’t eventuate. Nevertheless, seems the time is right to dust off Back to the Grindstone to applaud and unpack the grind masterwork well ahead of its time.

Need to Control both encompasses and rejects grindcore conventions. Daringly expanding on the genre’s early groundwork, while spitting jagged shards of noise, industrial, death, and punk into a brutally violent, nuanced, and thoroughly demented mutation of grind’s core values. The line-up of Kevin Sharp (vocals), Rich Hoak (drums), Brent McCarty (guitars), and legendary bass slinger Dan Lilker (ex-Anthrax, Nuclear Assault, S.O.D., Venomous Concept) captured a lightning in a bottle moment. Kicking off a bold sophomore effort with a decidedly non-grind song was a ballsy move that paid off. “Collapse” illustrates Brutal Truth’s bold adventurism outside grind parameters, its clanking industrial death stomp, dual powered vox, and ominous mid-paced grooves striking with an iron fist. Deviations from the out-and-out gold-plated grind blasters (“Black Door Mine,” “I See Red,” “Bite the Hand,” ‘Brain Trust,” etc) dominating the album fail to compromise cohesive flow or blunt the band’s visceral attacks. The atmosphere is intense, the energy electric, while the varied pacing and experimental flourishes serve to add increased potency and creativity to the finished package.

Featuring brighter melodies, hooky riffs, and groovier accessibility, the didgeridoo-adorned “Godplayer” is the closest thing to a metal hit the Brutal Truth boys ever approached. And it works a treat, still packing a heavy wallop atop a typically unhinged vocal performance from Sharp. It’s another fine example of the album’s ahead of its time class, nestled amongst the album’s overarching grindy chaos, which also includes an overdrawn noise experiment (“Ironlung”), fun punk cover (The Germs “Media Blitz”), and crust punk-grind crossovers (“Choice of the New Generation”). The album is a non-stop blast, deftly balancing raw throat-grabbing grind attacks with innovative turns and burly industrial death stomps. Streaked with dark melodic flourishes and an innovative, technical and unhinged flair, Need to Control exhilarates in weird and wild ways.

Need to Control holds up remarkably well, remaining a cutting-edge example of the genre some thirty-plus years later. Brutal Truth continued to carve a unique pathway in the grind field during the subsequent years of their career. However, the blunt force thrust of energy and precision death-influenced grind of their debut and infectious genre-scrambling innovation of Need to Control remain the band’s greatest achievements.

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