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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I’m sitting here in the early weeks of 2025 hoping to review a ton of traditional metal in the coming year…

These are the words of a madman, a madman who uttered said words, then immediately disappeared for the next year. What an idiot! This just goes to show that even the very, very best of us can fall victim to our hubris and that the best laid metal plans can be derailed by life circumstances and creative apathy. Don’t let Steel convince you that he placed me on sabbatical—I did that shit myself. Musically, at least, I used my time away wisely. It felt so good to let myself listen to whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and it was honestly the shot in the arm I needed to consider coming back to reviewing in any capacity. So here I am, ready, I think, to put digital pen to digital paper in an effort to describe how I feel about some music. Now watch as I resurrect myself through the power of Deathraiser!

When considering what Brazil is best known for, people often throw out things like the Amazon rainforest, round-ball football, coffee, beef, and that really tall statue of the Christmas Superstar, but you and I both know that Brazil is primarily known for thrash metal. Seeking to add to that legacy, Deathraiser is raising themselves from the dead by releasing sophomore album Forged in Hatred a mere 15 years after their debut. Do yourself a favor and play the embedded single, “Primitive Medicine,” and you’ll not only hear shades of the band’s famous big brothers in Sepultura, but you’ll also hear a healthy dose of Kreator and smell a touch of Bay Area botanicals.

Over the course of Forged in Hatred’s toight-like-a-toiger 34 minutes, Deathraiser holds religiously to the 5 R’s of thrash metal as they riff, rage, rip, wreck, and riff their hearts out. Take some deep breaths during the first 25 ambient seconds of opener “Severe Atrocity,” because it’s the last chance you’re going to have. The track shows the band’s two-pronged musical strategy, initially committing to the blazing classic thrash of yore before serving up a delicious crossover groove a la Enforced (see “Everything Dies” for a track that sounds like it was written by those violent Virginians), and the resulting contrast hits me like a Demolition Hammer. Deathraiser do the style so well that it took me multiple listens to realize that sixth track, “Symphony of Violence” is actually instrumental; far from being self-indulgent filler, it’s such a fantastic thrash song that my brain didn’t even register the lack of vocals.

Forged in Hatred has a couple of issues, but neither really lowers my opinion of the final product. The drum production leaves something to be desired as the sound lacks bottom end and feels a bit shrill. Some will say the songwriting is too derivative of the old masters. I’ll admit that there were a couple of moments—on my very first playthrough—where I accurately predicted the next riff before it actually arrived, but Deathraiser executes these songs so well that I actually don’t even care. The vocals are convincing, the riffs are fantastic, and each song is memorable in its own way.

Let Forged in Hatred take you back to your youth, a time when yer mom warned you about finding Deathraisers in your Halloween candy (this album proves that she just didn’t want you to have a good time!). Yeah, you’ve probably heard everything on this record before, from some legendary bands that are releasing new albums this very week, I might add, but few bands of any era are currently playing thrash as convincingly as Deathraiser do here.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Xtreem Music
Website: facebook.com/deathraiserofficial
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

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With Zyon at the artistic helm, Chama filters Soulfly’s signature sound through a darker lens and enlists a slew of support. Chama feels like a natural progression from 2022’s Totem, which embraced a more calloused aesthetic after guitarist Marc Rizzo’s departure. Where Ritual’s thrashy tendencies welded melody with indigenous flair, Totem pitched Soulfly’s sound into darker territory. Chama continues this descent, adding industrial heft that imbues extra grit into the record’s grim sound (“Ghenna,” “Black Hole Scum”). This suits the narrative’s backdrop as ‘the boy’ escapes from the overpopulated slums of a developing nation. And speaking of overcrowding, Soulfly puts out the call to arms to help Chama arise (again). The album features Fear Factory’s Dino Cazares (“No Pain = No Power”), Nails’s Todd Jones (“Nihilist”), Arch Enemy’s Michael Amott (“Ghenna”), and vocal appearances from No Warning’s Ben Cook and Unto Others’s Gabe Franco.³ Throughout the album, Igor Amadeus Cavalera handles low-end duty while Mike DeLeon (Flesh Hoarder, Philip H. Anselmo & The Illegals) picks and wails on guitar.

Rather than dulling Soulfly’s bite, age has only honed the veteran act’s edge and intensity. The last ten years have seen the band shift away from sprawling structures, preferring ten (mostly) focused tracks in under forty-five minutes. Chama ups the ante, clocking in at only thirty-three. First proper song “Storm the Gates” launches with Max in fighting form, roaring with as much vitriol as ever while he commands us to, “Fight the power, fight the greed.’ “Ghenna” and “Favela/Dystopia” further evidence Max’s conviction, tightly channeling his righteous indignation. “Favela/Dystopia” and “Black Hole Scum,” meanwhile, conjure Ministry’s mid-90s atmosphere, evoking Filth Pig’s sludgy swamp stomp between intermittent bursts of drums ‘n’ chugs. Zyon finds moments to abuse his kit with satisfying zeal, where “Storm the Gates” and “Ghenna” highlight his performance, and Igor Amadeus’s bass asserts a self-possessed and audible sweet spot in the mix.

With so much going right on Chama, it’s a shame there isn’t more of it. This is the first time that I can accuse Soulfly of not supplying enough material, though a solid thirty-three minutes could have been enough. However, with two-minute intro “Indigenous Inquisition,” four-minute instrumental “Soulfly XIII,” the unnecessarily long intro to “Always Was, Always Will Be…” and the outro in the last half of “Chama,” we’re left with about twenty-five minutes of proper meat over this flame. That’s not quite enough to sate the requirements of a full-length,⁴ and the remaining songs don’t afford enough variety or substance to stand on their own. In isolation, individual songs get in, jumpdafuckup, and get out, but altogether, Chama feels light by a song or two.

Chama attests that Soulfly has gas in the tank and a destination in mind, and Cavaleras & Co. prove they can still pen a rousing anthem and bring it. While I can’t say this about every Soulfly album, Chama feels vital and important to the band, and that authenticity seeps into the sludge and the fury. The filler-to-killer ratio holds Chama back, but it’s a worthwhile listen for anyone curious what Max is up to these days or with half an hour to pass. Those familiar with Soulfly won’t be surprised at what they hear, but I wager many will appreciate how the band has distilled Chama into a controlled burn.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Official Website | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

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For those unfamiliar, Incite majors in groove metal. A familiar southern aggression suffuses Layne Richardson’s axe work and Cavalera’s contentious lyrical delivery. Mid-paced tracks like “Used and Abused” or “Savage New Times” take a cue from Lamb of God or Exhorder, while rager “No Mercy, No Forgiveness” could easily fit on an early DevilDriver record. Bassist EL knows his craft well, building tension and promising violence with well-placed, threatening basslines (“Chucked Off,” “Never Die Once”). The instruments make room in verses for Cavalera’s vocal aggression to brew before crashing together in a choral release, and it is here that drummer Lennon Lopez shines. His energetic drumming steals the spotlight on the choruses of “Used and Abused” and “Chucked Off.” With such strong adherence to the tenets of groove metal, Savage New Times makes it clear that Incite has never missed a class at Pantera’s Vulgar School of Power.

Incite meets with mixed success when they venture outside their core sound. Richardson shows real prowess on “Used and Abused,” where he evokes both Amon Amarth in the bridge and the spiraling tones of System of a Down in the chorus. “Savage New Times” features leads reminiscent of Cannibal Corpse in the verse and, like “Feel This Shit (I’m Fired Up),” sports a militant burst fire tempo around the midpoint. On the other hand, “Doubts and the Fear” falters with a murky, pseudo-psychedelic bridge and nasally Agnostic Front-tinged vocals. Longest song “Dolores” also struggles. Unlike Phil Anselmo’s softer cleans that match the verses of Pantera’s “This Love,” Cavalera barely dulls his edge for the parallel sections of “Dolores,” creating a sonic disconnect between the instruments and himself. This is exacerbated by a similar divide between the rhythm section and the sprawling, idyllic solo recalling “Hotel California.”

More generally, Savage New Times suffers from unambitious songwriting. Except for the neoclassical intro of “Chucked Off” and the solo in “Used and Abused,” Richardson’s lead sections feel lethargic and unremarkable. Song structures feature minimal variation and fall into cyclical verse-chorus-verse-chorus patterns. While this isn’t a problem individually, ten songs of it feels repetitive. Additionally, several tracks lack a satisfying conclusion and feel half-baked. “Dolores” ends with a well-performed piano melody, but it feels tacked on after such a strong finish from the band. Similarly, by cutting their outros, “Lies,” “Feel This Shit (I’m Fired Up),” and “No Mercy, No Forgiveness” could have all ended powerfully rather than aimlessly.

While Savage New Times isn’t a terrible album, because of its deficiencies, I often found myself listening to Incite’s influences rather than Incite themselves. There’s plenty to critique between unmoving songcraft and mixed experimentation, but the final nail in the coffin is the production.¹ There’s a slight sibilance and several artifacts throughout Savage New Times. It’s most egregious on “Used and Abused,” ruining one of the record’s best cuts.² This is the common trend of the album—otherwise good tracks flawed by preventable missteps. I’ve spun this record dozens of times, and I’m sure that with more confidence and a clearer vision, Incite has a good record in them. Savage New Times just isn’t it.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Reigning Phoenix Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 15th, 2025

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The Rodeö is full of surprises. Today’s potential riff trap hails from the arid lands of Aguascalientes, Mexico, known most famously for its array of hot springs and National Museum of Death. Yes, in death Kalaveraztekah revels, and not just in a death metal groove indebted to the jagged scrawl of Morbid Angel or the destructive howl of early Behemoth. With a healthy inclusion of pre-Hispanic, indigenous instrumentation alongside their chunky and pinch-addled drive, Nikan Axkan churns and tumbles through chants and thunderous drum roll to shine a light on the Mexica culture and history of sacrifice and spirit world. To excavate the wonders that the adventurous Kalaveraztekah holds hidden in the underground, we’ve assembled a crack Rodeö crew, including an appearance from The Man, The Myth, The AMG Himself. Surely that means that everyone followed the word count, right? – Dolphin Whisperer

Kalaveraztekah // Nikan Axkan [May 2nd, 2025]

AMG Himself: Kalaveraztekah’s Nikan Axkan represents hopes and dreams that I have harbored for years. When will we finally get the seminal piece of Aztec-influenced extreme metal that will whet my appetite for both death metal and Mesoamerican history?¹ With aplomb, these astonishingly unsigned Aguascalientes-ites² do the fine job of balancing two equally vital parts of a single sound. Kalaveraztekah hits like a ton of bricks, dealing in death metal that’s neither old nor school, it’s just brutal and grindy, tempered only by peyote-fueled excursions into the netherworld. The core of their sound is brutal Mexican death metal replete with blasts and machine gun kicks, neck-damaging riffing, pig-squealing guitars, brutal growls (and occasionally less-brutal screamies) synced with the snare, and an intensity that I associate with writing reviews of bands like Vomitory or Crypta. It’s got the riffs and intensity with just a touch of melody, and I bask in its brutality and shreddy, squealy solos. Kalaveraztekah’s particular innovation in this sphere is the successful inclusion of traditional folk elements from the indigenous people located throughout Mexico, but which is today used almost exclusively for the Mexica people of Tenochtitlan (which is modern-day Mexico City).³ Kalaveraztekah’s focus on “Aztec Cosmogony” lends itself perfectly to the second part of their unique sound: dreamy folk soundscapes that they adapt seamlessly—and convincingly—when they shift gear. Driven by reverb-soaked soundscapes, Spanish guitars,⁴ and what I assume is a tlapitzalli (flute), the band lends atmosphere and dynamics that are necessary to offset a style of death metal that at times can risk monotony. And when they meet, these two sounds crash into each other like storm fronts, creating something beautiful and terrible to behold, simultaneously brutal and thoughtful, grindy and melodic, atmospheric and immediate. I fuckin’ love this shit.

Next up on my befolkened death metal bucketlist: the Olmecs! 4.0/5.0

Dear Hollow: What’s great about Kalaveraztekah is their ability to channel their heritage into an homage to the Mexica that sounds ancient, cosmic, and brutal. Featuring a blend not unlike the formidable shaman-themed Hell:on, the lethal fusion of cutthroat death metal and folk instruments offers balance: wild guitar solos, haunting flutes, terrifying death whistles, and ritualistic drums shine amid the no-frills Sulphur Aeon-esque riffs. While similarities to other Mexico-based Aztec- or Mayan-themed groups are unavoidable, Pre-Hispanic folk instrumentation is not mere novelty like it is for Ocelotl or Eunoë, nor is it an atmospheric saturation of bloody sacrifice in the manner of Aztlan or Cemican – rather, Kalaveraztekah uses ritualistic and ceremonial elements to amplify the cyclical cosmic grandiosity of the Five Suns in an album of both creation and devastation. Nikan Axkan offers riffs galore (“Tlazolteotl,” “Xiuhtekuhtli Weweteotl”), haunting overtures with spoken word that recall sacrificial ecstasy and the vast rotting realms of the gods (“Yowaltecuhtli,” “Illwikatl Meztli”), and just enough techy flavors of soaring intensity and dissonant menace to warrant diversity and complexity (“Xolotl Axolotl,” “Xiuhmolpili”). While the album is a tad overlong at nearly fifty minutes, Kalaveraztekah’s approach straddles the line between violently visceral and gloriously colossal – truly “el amanecer del nuevo sol” indeed. 4.0/5.0

Iceberg: I love it when an album requires me to do some research to unwrap its mysteries. Before I came across Nikan Axlan I had precious little knowledge of Aztec mythology. But now, thanks to Aguascalientes natives Kalaveraztekah, I can confidently tell my Xolotls from my Axolotls. Kalaveraztekah’s sonic template skews more groove than death metal, but the inclusion of a host of traditional instruments keeps the music refreshing and thoroughly unnerving. The tribal drums and wind instruments maintain a constant otherworldly atmosphere, and the extraneous vocal additions are excellent (the frantic spoken word of “Yowaltekuhtli” and the Wilhelm screams of “Xolotl Axolotl”). Kalaveraztekah aren’t content to sit in any one corner with their instruments either. The trebly blues tone of “Yowaltekuhtli” feels ripped from a Los Lonely Boys album, and the sweeping neoclassical riff that forms the backbone of “Xiuhmolpilli” screams symphodeath BOMBAST.⁵ The biggest drawback for me here is that in leaning so far into the groove metal style, the BPM goes stale in its mid-paced swagger. Given everything else that Kalaveraztekah unleashes on Nikan Axkan, I’m left wondering what this band would sound like if they really stepped on the gas and hit that NOS button (although the opening riff of “Wewekyotl” gets pretty damn close). That quibble aside, Nikan Axkan is a compelling and replayable record, and a great trip into the dark, bizarre world of Aztec mythology. I highly recommend this album for those looking for some tasty groove metal with a bit of strange on the side. 3.5/5.0

Alekhines Gun: Move over Tzompantli, there’s a new band in town. Channeling the instrumental flourishes of Nechochwen filtered through something adjacent to The Zenith Passage in production,⁶ Kalaveraztekah have presented a slab of agave scented folky melodic death so meticulously constructed and well produced that I’m actually stunned it’s an independent release. From the triumphant flourishes dotting the leads in “Yowaltekuhtli” to the thunderous tribal percussion-laced breakdowns in “Xiuhtekuhtli Weweteotl”, Nikan Axkan never wants for a variety of gripping moments. A sense of propulsion flows through the album, rendering the occasional interludes atmospheric rather than momentum-killing. Songs like “Xolotl Axolotl” feature heaps of skronk and tawngy tech only to instantly be offset by indigenous instruments and melodic atmospherics in equal measure. True, each individual track feels a bit long in the tooth and seem as though they could benefit from some editing, and I wish the bottom end didn’t sound so artificial. Nevertheless, every time I found myself thinking such thoughts I was suddenly blown away by some excellent new riff or lovely melody from wood instruments or percussion, slotting neatly into the album’s reasonable runtime. Nikan Axhan is an album with a remarkably matured and well-executed vision, and has been a gripping, engaging listen with each spin. Support this album. 3.5/5.0

Thyme: Most bands continually seek ways to bring originality into their work. For Aguascalientes, Mexico, five-piece death metal outfit Kalaveraztekah, that originality comes in the form of heaving helpings of Mesoamerican folk instrumentation, expertly woven into the deathly fabric of their sophomore album Nikan Azkan. Right off the bat, I felt transported to the middle of a Mexican rainforest as tribal drums and folkish guitar lines cede their delicate grip to Behemoth-like death riffs and a hellish vocal attack that rivals Nergal’s (“Nikan Axkan (El Aquí y El Ahora)”). When Nikan Azkan isn’t channeling Demigod levels of viciousness, its hybrid form of folk death conjures Roots-era Sepultura with sludgily dirty riffs, primitive death chants, and a plethora of indigenous instruments ranging from ocarinas to Aztec death whistles (“Xiuhtekuhtli Weweteotl (El Fuego Ancestral),” “Wewekoyotl (El Coyote Viejo)”). Kalaveraztekah brings loads of atmosphere to Nikan Axkan, especially on “Yowaltekuhtli (Un Sueño En La Oscuridad),” with its haunting instrumentation—the guitar work is top notch here—and the desperate, breathless pleas of the narrator conjuring tons of dramatic tension. On repeated spins, the magic within Nikan Axkan continues to unravel. While the meshing of Kalaveraztekah’s death metal—standard as it may be—with its folk-forward instrumentation tends to blur tracks together, enjoyment didn’t dissipate the more I listened. Fans of what Tzompantli are doing would be hard-pressed to miss this, and I suggest they don’t. 3.0/5.0

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In Dakhma moves in so many different musical directions that it makes nailing down the sound of He Who Sows the Ground difficult. From death, black and doom to sludge, hardcore and grind, a lot is happening here. Yet, despite having no resume beyond that of seasoned fandom, guitarist, bassist, and vocalist Vedran Nor has an unexpectedly firm grasp on instrumentation. He capably grinds, chugs, sludges and shreds through the songs, his low-tuned guitar imbuing the album with an almost Roots-like quality.¹ His bass work shines brightly, whether slapping, rumbling, leading, or snaking through mid-song interludes. Nor’s vocals, primarily a discernible mix of Tom Warrior and Max Cavelera, possess an impressive black metal scream, while his deathliest growls have a Deicidedly Glen Benton-ish timbre. Drummer and lyricist Matko Podobnik has more than a passing mastery of the kit and provides a substantial foundation for Nor’s work to build on. Dispelling lack of talent as an issue, and with influences ranging from Entombed and Cannibal Corpse to Gojira and Opeth, He Who Sows the Ground presents a young band battling identity versus diversity.

When In Dakhma decides who they are, a more focused approach should yield positive results, for seeds of a successful harvest are planted throughout He Who Sows’ eleven tracks. Opener “Ona kraljuje sama,” minus its irrelevant sixty-second intro, gives off Cavalera Conspiracy energy, featuring punchy, punk-fueled guitar riffs and some of Nor’s better lead work. The chunky, juicily moist riffs of “Nothing but Filth” satisfy like a hot sludge sundae, while the chug-a-lug hooks and galloping pace of “Aeshma” lash out like a truncheon to the temple. Further success is found when In Dakhma bask in deathlier climes. The tremolodically picked riffing, ploddingly pummeling chugs and Bentonistic vocals of “Sacrum” wrap deathly tendencies in a cozy black metal blanket. Meanwhile, the Morbidly Angelic “Siblicide” scratches the death itch nicely, with a near Alkaloidal bass interlude thrown in for good measure.

In Dakhma’s diversity on He Who Sows the Ground spells the death of their identity. Be it the erroneously ominous grind of “Black Mat” or the mandolin-plucked, unoriginally titled instrumental “…,”² these tracks drag the album back more than propel it forward. Even the doomy goodness of “Sentinel Hill,” reliant on guest vocals and lead guitars for intrigue, belies In Dakhma’s true strengths. This leaves tracks “In Dogma” and “Tower of Silence” to try and clean up the album’s identity crisis. The former’s hardcore-tinged riffs, gang-chanted chorus’, sludge-ridden midpoints and slam-inspired bass drops fall flat, while the latter’s Monotheistic sludge and bongo-infused Celtic Frostian-weirdness offer nothing redemptive.

He Who Sows the Ground is In Dakhma’s love letter to death metal. Nor and Podobnik were so committed to this ode that they started Tower of Silence Records to release this debut effort. With a modicum of focus, this duo has the chops to release a decent slab of metal. Here, they let their fandom get the best of them, sowing the seeds of an overly diverse album that reaps mixed rewards. While I can’t recommend He Who Sows the Ground wholly, there’s playlist-worthy music here. Hopefully, with a more focused approach, In Dakhma will return to laugh over my vulture-picked bones.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Tower of Silence Records
Websites: indakhma.com | facebook.com/in.dakhma
Releases Worldwide: November 8th, 2024

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Arka’n Asrafokor embodies another interpretation of lesser-known and underrepresented native folk music utilized in hard rock and metal styles, following acts like the Māori Alien Weaponry, Polynesian Shepherds Reign, Hindi Bloodywood, and Mongol The Hu or Tengger Cavalry. You won’t find Jacoby Shaddix showing up as a rock feature in Dzikkuh, but instead a much more punishing breed pervades, chuggy riffs colliding with blistering double bass and vocal intensities throughout. Riffy influences of Alien Weaponry, Sepultura, and Pantera run rampant, layered with percussion, melodies, and motifs from the band’s native Ewe culture. When the quintet embraces the brutal and balances it with more warfaring tendencies,¹ Arka’n Asrafokor accomplishes something truly powerful.

The backbone of Dzikkuh, like any good folk metal, is chunky rhythmic guitar, and guitarist Rock Ahavi is in no short supply of groovy riffs. Utilizing a seven-string, expect wonky rhythms, thick slogs, nimble noodling, and pinch harmonics galore chucked at the listener with reckless and energetic abandon, while the rumble down under from bassist Francis Amevo and blistering double bass and rabid beats from drummer Richard Siko add to the intensity. Vocalist Enrico Ahavi offers raspy barks and sporadic raps that add a jolt of intensity, while percussionist Mass Aholou offers a plethora of native instruments.² When the act’s heritage in Ewe tribal warrior motifs are used to enhance Arka’n Asrafokor’s groove-metal assault, like layers of percussion and Rock Ahavi’s soaring battle cry-like cleans and grunge-inspired howls, tracks like “The Truth,” “Walk With Us,” “Angry God of Earth,” and “Home” expertly blend punishment and evocative tribal elements in adrenaline-pumping intensity reminiscent of Alien Weaponry. “Mamade” is the clear highlight, with recurring tribal motifs of percussion and melodies adding further weight to the crushing intensity through its bulletproof dynamic songwriting.

When Arka’n Asrafokor’s teeth are gritted with blistering heaviness, Dzikkuh hits like a bomb. When they slow things down, they sound a bit like a toothless Five Finger Death Punch. While Ahavi’s grunge rumble enhances the attack in songs like “Final Tournament” and “Angry God of Earth,” they lose their impact when utilized excessively, making “Still Believe” and closer “The Calling” revel in dad rock-inspired cringeworthy melodrama. Elsewhere, while intensity is generally best, tracks “Not Getting in Line” and “Asrafo” nearly fly off the rails with an almost mathcore wildness in rhythmic complexity, made stranger by unprecedented rapping vocals, although usage adds a certain desperation to “Home.” Tracks “Not Getting in Line” and “Angry God of Earth” feature awkward tonal shifts, like jarring bridges of silence between passages as well as weird shifts between clean choruses and harsh verses. Also, although unmatched in animalistic intensity, Enrico Ahavi’s raspy and smoky barks can be an acquired taste in tracks like “Home” and “The Truth.”

Being the only metal act in Togo, Arka’n Asrafokor had to record their albums in a tiny makeshift studio outside of Lomé, and the solidness of Dzikkuh pays off mightily as a labor of love. While it ends on a bit of a sour note with “The Calling” and there are some wayward hiccups throughout, this does not discredit cuts like “Walk With Us” and “Mamade” from being unique and pummeling tracks that add a new chapter to the growing body of ethnic voices in today’s metal. Technical without being too flashy to focus on the act’s native elements, each member contributes heartily to an act of passion and power. Reflecting roots in tribal warrior customs, Dzikkuh is a formidable album from an act with only more to offer going forward – a bold representative of a continent too often neglected in metal circles.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Reigning Phoenix Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 24th, 2024

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Playing a brand of death thrash that was familiar to metal fans by the early 90s, Boundless Chaos offer no surprises on their debut. Sinister Upheaval might have been better named Sinister Reminiscence, as it builds exclusively on the foundations laid decades ago by the likes of Dark Angel, Possessed and fellow countrymen Sodom. Now admittedly, that’s not a bad template to build on for your first full-length, and guitarists M.J. and T.B. clearly worship the likes of Eric Meyer, their dueling thrash riffs channeling the same furious, pummeling energy. Behind the kit, M.F. sets a similarly frantic pace for much of the record, as from the opening fills of first track “Down” on, he drives Boundless Chaos along. E.M.’s vocals are in that distortion-edged thrash school favored by the likes of Sodom’s Tom Angelripper, although with perhaps a little more gravel thrown into the mixer, which gives Boundless Chaos a slightly rough edge.

Clocking in at just 35 minutes, Sinister Upheaval has little fat on its carcass, presenting a constant onslaught of riffs, underscored by a bass groove (P.K.) that adds some decent depth to the sound. Album highlights “Blasphemous Rupture” and closer “Demons Unchained” both feel vibrant, the latter launching forward with wild abandon. The former does the opposite, lifting a couple of toes off the gas and slowing the pace ever so slightly, particularly in its back half, which is both a welcome respite and also offers a little variety to Boundless Chaos’ material. Sandwiches in between the two, “Rip out the Roots” takes this a step further, feeling positively mid-paced (compared to the rest of the records), sounding like Beneath the Remains-era Sepultura, and not only because E.M. adds a little more hoarseness and distortion to his vocals recalling Max Cavalera.

Sinister Upheaval is a well-put-together record, albeit one does nothing we haven’t heard before. Boundless Chaos wear their influences proudly and openly on their collective sleeve, and do what they do well, with M.J. and T.B. slinging old school thrashy riffs in all directions. It feels familiar, without being derivative, and the band feels energized and hungry. The songs are tightly written and there is zero bloat here, while the production is solid, with the DR 9 making Sinister Upheaval easy on the ear. At the same time, it’s hard to look past the lack of innovation or originality in the material. It’s all well executed and there is nothing to dislike here but that’s principally because it all sits so firmly on a bedrock of quality records we all know and love. And there is nothing wrong with that but it’s a simple fact that I will always put on Agent Orange or Darkness Descends, in preference to Sinister Upheaval.

Maybe there’s nothing Boundless Chaos can do about that. Sinister Upheaval feels exactly like what it is: the debut of a band whose members are talented, and clearly love old school, late-80s thrash and death metal. They are having a lot of fun while they look for their own voice and identity as a band but, with the core of the band having seemingly been together since around 2016 (albeit under another name), I wonder how long that might take.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: boundlesschaos.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/boundlesschaos
Releases Worldwide: January 19th, 2024

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When Nervosa hit the scene in 2014, they were the talk of the town. An all-female thrash outfit from Brazil that incorporated the soothing sounds of Sodom, Kreator, and Sadus. But, throughout the years (and many o’ lineup changes), Prika Amaral has continued to expand on the thrash influences and charged them with some death licks. For all the hype, Nervosa has never blown me away. With each release, I hope for that breakout record that’ll drop me to my knees, but instead, they’ve established a catalog of solid releases with a handful of stellar pieces. For a minute, I was intrigued by the release of 2021’s Perpetual Chaos because the band picked up a new vocalist. In doing so, I hoped that it would be that great album, but it never panned out. This time around, founding guitarist Prika Amaral takes to the stage and lends her growls and barks to Jailbreak.

And, you know what? I like it. Being the band’s visionary, it would make sense that Amaral would understand the vocal style that matches her aggressive axe play. Though I can’t tell if it’s her chance at the mic or because of the riffs, Jailbreak carries some serious weight that flattens some of the band’s most recent efforts. There’s also far more energy and spontaneity here than on the two previous releases. While this new platter still has too many songs in its tracklist, inevitably resulting in some filler pieces, most songs have direction. The chaotic riff changes make sense, melding trash with death and producing some memorable choruses and solos.

This crushing character is most prominent on the back half, with ditties like “Behind the Wall,” “When the Truth Is a Lie,” and “Superstition Failed.” The first flies out of the gates with some tasty guitar and drum work that settles into a goosebump-induced thrash lick. But it doesn’t stop there, as this compact, three-minute piece slows to a hard-hitting trudge to support the stellar solo work. “When the Truth Is a Lie” opens with some Roots-era Sepultura pluckings that give way to a monstrous death charge and killer vocal variety. The riffs morph from trashy triplet action to sinister poundings that feel like the devil’s spanking me on my birthday. Exodus’ Gary Holt also adds a classic American thrash flavor with his solo contribution. “Superstition Failed” is a punishing number with guest support from Infected Rain’s Lena Scissorhands. Both vocalists play off each other, adding slithering variation to the At the Gates-inspired riffage alternating with filthy death licks.

Two of the more memorable pieces on the record are “Seed of Death” and closer “Nail the Coffin.” But they are memorable in two completely different ways. “Seed of Death” starts with a beautiful, melodic introduction that grows with each second. When it breaks, we ride into what appears to be a melodeath song akin to Mors Principium Est. The harmonizing leads and solos are aplenty, adding to the song’s character, and the chorus is as sad and somber as heartbreaking moments from Hypocrisy’s discog. If “Seed of Death” is the black sheep of the album, the odd “Nail the Coffin” is the ugly duckling. The closer stands out like a sore thumb amidst the rest with its strange heavy-metal direction. It’s a solid song, but it feels like a bonus track compared to the rest, and its predecessor, “Elements of Sin,” would have been a better closer.

Overall, I’m quite pleased with Jailbreak. It’s an album I can return to far more than Downfall of Mankind and Perpetual Chaos. Of course, I’d rather see the weaker moments removed. The title track is an annoying, repetitive death metal version of something Motörhead might have written. And for all its builds and angst, “Gates to the Fall” literally falls at the end. Aside from the crushing, Kreator-esque opener and “Seed of Death,” I enjoy the second half of Jailbreak the most. But this new record has a power and energy we haven’t seen from the band since Agony. Every member contributes, providing great performances, and Amaral’s vocals are a breath of fresh air to their music. Even though another fucking Napalm Records stream ties me to my desk, I’ve had difficulty putting down my headphones.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: Yeah, it’s Napalm again | Format Reviewed: I know
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: nervosa-brazil.bandcamp.com | nervosaofficial.com | facebook.com/nervosa
Releases Worldwide: September 29th, 2023

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After an anodyne symphonic intro, the gloves come off for the blistering, savage blast attack of “All Hail the Regicide.” It’s like Domination era Morbid Angel, Vader, and Krisiun fighting over bloody flesh scraps as burning anvils rain down upon the Earth. Unrelenting blastbeats and blistering riffs are saturated by angry death roars and all these elements conspire to remove your epidermal layers. It’s feral, over-the-top thrashing death, and easy to love as such. The same recipe is applied to much of what follows with varying results. “The Gods Manace” is another balls-out rager with speed, aggression, and some tasty riffs carrying the day, though it does attempt to dabble a bit in slower tempos and allow room for interesting riffs to spawn and mutate. “Fear the Infidel” takes this further with even greater tempo variation and though it’s still entertaining, at a certain point the absence of the speed and savagery starts to make it feel less substantial.

As Under the Sign scrolls outward, there are noticeable peaks and valleys in the writing. The blitzkrieging “Insurgent Fire” is lively and entertaining, and “Light Eater” sounds like a lost track from Sepultura’s classic Beneath the Remains platter. Elsewhere, “Hostile Presence” revives the salad days of Morbid Angel with a collection of slithering, grasping riffs that feel slimy and dangerous. On the flip side, several tracks end up feeling rather generic and fail to leave much of an impression (“In Heresy We Trust,” “Antagonize”). Even with unsightly warts, Rebaelliun bring so much rabid enthusiasm to the party that it’s easy to root for them and overlook the shortcomings. The album’s 39 minutes fly by at a wicked pace and the song lengths keep any one track from overstaying its welcome. The production is solid, allowing the guitar and vocals plenty of room, and the drum sound is tight.

Evandro Passos delivers a striking performance, offering a large collection of jagged, tooth-extracting riffs of varying speeds. He seems to draw inspiration from the Azagthothian school of riffery, though there are several nods to the Cavalera/Kisser ideals as well. Every song contains between 5 and 500 riffs of relative worth and the man is a fretboard dynamo. Lohy Fabiano’s vocals track closely to prime David Vincent, which is a good place to set camp, and his gruff barks suit the high-speed dirt well. His bass is present and at times quite forward, adding a fatness to the thrashing and scorching. Sole original member, Sandro Moreira provides a stout backbone to the assault with propulsive kit work featuring unexpected nuances. The talent is obvious across the board. The only weakness comes from the inconsistent writing.

It’s always tough to review an album featuring a musician who didn’t live to see his hard work released. Lohy Fabiano did himself proud with his performance and he’s left a metallic legacy behind in his works with Rebaelliun. Under the Sign of Rebellion is a fierce, entertaining slice of South American death metal with top-notch playing and a handful of live-wire compositions. If it was a tad more consistent it would net a much higher score, but there’s much fun to be had regardless. Check this out, then explore their early albums too. There’s some wild and unhinged stuff lurking in their murky past.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Agonia
Websites: agoniarecords.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/rebaelliun
Releases Worldwide: September 22nd, 2023

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