Megadeth requires no introduction, but I’ll give one anyway to provide context for why we composed an overwrought missive about one of thrash’s most enduring acts. Last year, frontman and metal legend Dave Mustaine announced Megadeth would call it quits following one last album and tour. With over forty years of metal history in the books and Megadeth’s endgame on the horizon, what better way to celebrate a storied career filled with legendary cuts and excessive ellipses than with a good ol’ fashioned ranking? Through sixteen albums, Dave and his Dethcrew have offered platters ranging from so good to so what, and we at AMG apparently have a lot to say about them.

Regardless of how you feel about Megadeth, their lasting legacy casts an immense shadow. Mustaine’s indelible footprint is evident, driving many of us writers to spend countless hours sweating bullets and overwriting about a band we love to Deth. From inauspicious beginnings in 1983,¹ when Dave was famously booted from Metallica a month before recording Kill ’em All, to clawing their way into metal’s collective consciousness, Megadeth notched an extraordinary victory and became one of the most recognized bands in rock and metal. Mustaine’s influence stands tall, a monument to what a man can accomplish when he dives headlong into the lungs of hell and sets the metal world on fire with one sick lick after another. We’ll be back with a look at Megadeth’s self-titled swan song, but in the meantime, let us commence reckoning Dave and AMG’s countdown to distinction.

– Grin Reaper

The Rankings

Grin Reaper

Megadeth has been a mainstay of my diet for as long as I’ve listened to metal. I started with their greatest hits, then greedily absorbed album after album as my rapacity for thrash deepened. Leading up to Megadeth, returning to this discography gives me a new appreciation for what Dave has accomplished. Even if the lyrics can be heavy-handed and the desire for accessibility occasionally hamstrings success, Megadeth has forged some of the best thrash platters ever. For the hours I’ve spent with this music, I owe Megathanks.²

#16. Risk (1999) — I’m paraphrasing, but at some point, Mustaine said, “If Risk didn’t have Megadeth’s name on it, it would’ve sold.” Maybe,³ but it seems clear the priority was selling records and not writing great fucking metal. The doctor is calling, and he says to listen to any other Megadeth album, stat.

#15. Th1rt3en (2011) — Th1rt3en contains many of Megadeth’s core ingredients, but lacks the hooks and vitality of other releases. The album’s thirteen tracks are exhaustively padded and range from forgettable to middling. One of Megadeth’s most phoned-in albums, I rarely return to Th1rt3en outside of a full Deth play-through.

#14. Super Collider (2013) — Compared to Th1rt3en, Super Collider’s highs are higher and its lows lower. Tracks like “Kingmaker” and “Built for War” burn with a fire that rarely ignites on its predecessor, and while Super Collider’s duration is vastly improved, it only edges out Th1rt3en by the skin of its teeth.

#13. The World Needs a Hero (2001) — TWNaH might rank higher if Megadeth said goodbye to “When” and “Promises” and trimmed fat from other tracks. As is, the choruses on “Disconnect” and “Burning Bridges” nestle between Youthanasia and Cryptic Writings, which scores big points. Though not the ‘return to thrash’ advertised following Risk, it proved a crucial first step in course correction.

#12. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — A step down from Dystopia, TStDatD bears some undeniable moments (including the entirety of “We’ll Be Back”) that put a high-speed hurt on your earholes. At its best, the album cranks a blistering fury that defines the immediacy Kiko brought to Megadeth. Hobbled by bloat, this could have been a better album with judicious editing.

#11. The System Has Failed (2004)⁴ — An irrefutable improvement on TWNaH, The System Has Failed tightened up the songwriting and injected more thrashitude than fans had seen since Youthanasia.⁵ Dave’s vocals are particularly strong here, and while it’s not as good as the two albums that followed, The System Has Failed is a striking improvement over Risk and TWNaH.

#10. Dystopia (2016) — Dystopia outstrips Th1rt3en and Super Collider by a country mile. While Megadeth doesn’t totally shake excess length or back-half slogs here, the opening trio of songs on Dystopia comprises the best introductory salvo since Rust in Peace.⁶ The rest of the album teeters between okay and very good, but “The Threat Is Real,” “Dystopia,” and “Fatal Illusion” are the most vital Deth has sounded in the 21st century.

#9. Endgame (2009) — Chris Broderick joining Megadeth set fire to the guitar leads, crafting scorching, thrashy magic on the likes of “This Day We Fight!” and “Head Crusher.” This is the most technical Megadeth has played since Marty Friedman was in the band, and the combination of six-string acrobatics, tight songwriting, and a mighty back half gives Endgame the right to be insane.

#8. United Abominations (2007) — Endgame and United Abominations are a toss-up, but UA wins out because there’s more variety from track to track, the bass slaps me silly with engaging countermelodies (“Washington Is Next!”), and there’s no “The Hardest Part of Letting Go…Sealed with a Kiss.” Plus, “Sleepwalker” is one of my favorite Megadeth tracks in the last thirty years.

#7. Cryptic Writings (1997) — Infusing all the post-grunge, alternative angst of the mid-to-late ’90s, Cryptic Writings teems with direct, catchy riffs and a vaguely dark edge. Boasting a restrained runtime, singalong choruses, and killer bass grooves, Cryptic Writings travels the popular, rock-oriented path whose biggest sin is lacking the thrash beatdown they’re so damn good at.

#6. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — Megadeth’s debut hemorrhages razor-sharp riffs in an uncontested frenzy of vitriol and venom. Unrefined and raw compared to what came later, Killing Is My Business endures as a testament to Dave Mustaine’s tenacity and vehement pledge to play better and faster than everyone else, all in an indefatigable half hour.

#5. Youthanasia (1994) — Doubling down on the streamlined songwriting from Countdown to Extinction, Youthanasia flaunts grade-A, pop-informed hookiness with metal vestiges. It also sports one of my favorite solos Megadeth wrote after 1990 in “Victory,” which encapsulates the danger of early Deth and how Mustaine’s and Friedman’s fretwork feels like it could go off the rails at any moment, but never quite does. The digestible track lengths sustain Youthanasia’s kinetic momentum throughout, even if it dips toward the end. Megadeth doesn’t recapture the aggression and destruction present on prior outings, but Youthanasia still evinces a band firing on all cylinders.

#4. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — I originally had SFSGSW ranked lower because of how much it’s overshadowed by the albums surrounding it. Listening with a ranking mindset and not chronologically,⁷ it’s apparent that Megadeth’s third album wields the unpolished vigor of their debut to greater effect. SFSGSW snatches you with barbed hooks in ear, dragging you into singalong anarchy.⁸ The album also contains “In My Darkest Hour,” one of the all-time great Megadeth jams. It takes the raw energy and animosity from Peace Sells and foreshadows the more progressive structures of Rust in Peace, cementing it as not only the best track on the album, but one of the best in Deth’s catalog.

#3. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Forsaking the technical fervor of Rust in Peace, Mustaine rerouted Megadeth’s trajectory down a more commercially viable path. And though I loathe the change in direction from RiP, I can’t deny Dave’s success in creating some of the band’s most recognizable anthems while discharging the best-selling album of Megadeth’s career. “Symphony of Destruction” was the first Megadeth song I encountered, and once I dove deeper, “Skin o’ My Teeth” and “Sweating Bullets” quickly became frequent stops. Countdown remains the best fusion of Megadeth’s bethrashened roots and perennial commercial lust.

#2. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — Many will tell you that Peace Sells is Megadeth’s best album. It’s not, but it’s very, very close. Maintaining the rabid ferocity of Killing Is My Business, Mustaine exercised a modicum of restraint, and instead of pumping toxic levels of riffs straight down your ear gullet, he wrote some all-time burners that expanded on the debut’s technicality without sacrificing its infectious charm. Guitar theatrics blaze through Peace Sells’ scant thirty-six minutes while the bass and drums complement serpentine axe-work with inspired grooves and rolls. In another discography, this thrashterpiece would wear the crown without challenge. Alas, Megadeth perfected technical thrash four years later…

#1. Rust in Peace (1990) — For years, Megadeth’s pièce de résistance has been my unquestioned favorite thrash metal album. Its progressive alchemy marries unfuckwithable riffs and Dave’s ever-present punky snarl, taking no prisoners and defining an iconic benchmark of the genre. When I first broke into Megadeth via their Greatest Hits, “Holy Wars…” and “Hangar 18” dominated my early listening. When I relented and bought Rust in Peace, those early listens were a revelation. I expected solid material on par with the tracks I already knew, but the quality of bangers here is unparalleled. The deep-cut status of “Tornado of Souls” and “Rust in Peace… Polaris” is criminal, but demonstrates the strength of the songwriting. Rust in Peace never relents in its cascade of squealing solos, pummeling fills, and sneer-along anthems, and there’s nary a moment that doesn’t set my head crushing banging. The apex of Megadeth’s discography is absolute perfection, and if you don’t like it, go tell it to Reader’s Digest.

Owlswald

Long tethered to Metallica’s shadow, Dave Mustaine has consistently forged music that resonates with me in some way, regardless of his antics or the era’s quality. Megadeth spearheaded my obsession with thrash and extreme metal. And although decades of lineup shifts, addiction, and health battles aimed to thwart Megadeth multiple times, Mustaine’s resilience has been steadfast. Accordingly, Megadeth is set to release their seventeenth album—a final curtain call for Mustaine to voluntarily leave the stage as metal royalty. So, to a living legend: thank you for your relentless dedication and for opening the gates of metal for me. Your legacy is secure, your throne is earned, and your place as a true titan of the genre is solidified.

#16. Risk (1999) — Essentially, “Dave tries to write hit songs,” Risk finds Mustaine still chasing a #1 record after Cryptic Writings and failing even worse the second time. Both albums serve as underwhelming final chapters for the group’s most storied era. There isn’t much else to say: Megadeth’s greatest lineup deserved a much better send-off.

#15. The World Needs a Hero (2001) — Mustaine intended for this record to fix the damage of Risk, but missed the mark completely. “1000 Times Goodbye” and “Promises” rank among Megadeth’s worst songs, squandering the potential of the “Return to Hangar” concept. Indeed, the world may still need a hero, but it certainly didn’t need this album.

#14. Th1rt3en (2011) — When the only lasting impression is Mustaine’s awful lyrics, the system has truly failed. Megadeth clearly mailed in most of this record, from the tropey “Guns, Drugs, & Money” and “We the People,” right down to its uninspired self-titled name. In short: ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz.

#13. Super Collider (2013) — Though clearly bad, this record at least contains some semblance of the Mega juice missing from Th1rt3en. “Kingmaker,” “Beginning of Sorrow,” and “Built for War” make it memorable, for better or worse. However, the title track inexplicably finds Mustaine going full John Cougar Mellencamp, and “The Blackest Crow” sounds like the Deadliest Catch theme song.

#12. United Abominations (2007) — Despite “Sleepwalker,” “Washington Is Next!” and revisiting “A Tout Le Monde,” United Abominations falls on its face faster than you can decipher whatever the hell is going on with that artwork. Tracks like “Amerikhastan,” “Gears of War” and the title track are a mess, and Mustaine’s sermonizing rants further weigh things down.

#11. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — Megadeth’s sixteenth effort leans on repetitive formulas and Mustaine’s weary vocals. Kiko Loureiro’s world-class fret-work and Dirk Verbeuren’s thundering percussion shine on tracks like “Night Stalkers,” “Sacrifice,” “Life In Hell” and “We’ll Be Back.” However, by the time “Mission to Mars” hits, bloated runtimes and awful songwriting drag things to Super Collider territory.

#10. Cryptic Writings (1997) — Chasing a #1 record, Megadeth adopted a disappointing, radio-oriented sound under producer Bud Prager. By dividing itself into thirds—one part speed, one part melody, and one part mainstream—Cryptic Writings is lackadaisical. Still, tracks like “She-Wolf,” “The Disintegrators,” and hit song “Trust” remain solid amidst an otherwise underwhelming record.

#9. Dystopia (2016) — Like Endgame, Dystopia marks a return to form with the addition of Chris Adler’s precision and Loureiro’s flair, reviving some of that classic Deth energy. Despite cringy lyrics and bloat, the record brings the goods with crunchy power chords (“Post American World,” “Fatal Illusion”), breakneck speed (“The Threat is Real”) and impressive shredding (“Conquer or Die,” “Dystopia”).

#8. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — Production woes, a fractured lineup, and mountains of substance abuse notwithstanding, this record somehow survived. Less aggressive and more disjointed than KIMB or Peace Sells, So Far, So Good… So What!⁹ still delivers some bangers with “Set the World Afire,” “Hook in Mouth” and the classic “In My Darkest Hour.”

#7. The System Has Failed (2004) — This album is a crucial recovery from the Risk era. Chris Poland’s return and the addition of session drummer Vinnie Colaiuta provide a massive lift, compensating for muted production and a sluggish mid-section. “Kick the Chair” drives the record, offering essential proof of life and showcasing Mustaine’s resilience.

#6. Endgame (2009) — Megadeth recaptures their golden-era speed and calculated aggression through heavier, more technical songwriting. While tracks like “Bite the Hand” showcase classic riffcraft, guitarist Chris Broderick is the true catalyst—his insane solos and leads elevate the entire record. Despite minor stumbles like “The Hardest Part of Letting Go,” Endgame proved Megadeth still had it.

#5. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — More than a mere middle finger to Metallica, this debut is pure vitriol and velocity. From the breakneck pace of “Mechanix” to the straight-up thrash assault of “The Skull Beneath the Skin,” this record introduced Megadeth to the metal world and forged their identity with fire. A rhythm section unlike any other at the time anchored Mustaine’s venomous vocals and Poland’s unorthodox leads. Samuelson’s jazz-infused sensibilities and Ellefson’s precision formed a lethal engine, providing the framework for Mustaine and Poland to unleash their frantic guitar fury overhead. Beyond its raw aggression, KIMB served as a dress rehearsal for the creative pinnacle that would soon follow.

#4. Youthanasia (1994) — Hanging babies! This record captures Megadeth at the height of their mainstream powers, delivering a record that is more vocally driven than its predecessors. Mustaine offers arguably his finest vocal performance here, showcasing a resonant range that outshines even Countdown to Extinction. From the chugging pick-scrapes of the groovy “Train of Consequences” to the vulnerable “A Tout Le Monde,” though the songwriting on Youthanasia feels more calculated, controlled, and melodic, the album still retains its bite. Nick Menza’s drums hit like artillery fire, particularly on tracks like “Black Curtains,” “Youthanasia,” and “Reckoning Day.” It’s Megadeth riding on popularity without losing their edge.

#3. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Countdown to Extinction marked Megadeth’s definitive arrival as a commercial powerhouse. It introduced a polished, but still high-octane sound filled with purpose and precision that left almost all others in their deathly wake. Boasting a wealth of riffs, sophisticated lead work, Menza’s monumental drumming, and a vibrant production that gives everything an in-your-face presence, Countdown is essential Megadeth. Though it famously debuted at #2 on the charts—stymied only by another now-famous black album—tracks like the legendary “Symphony of Destruction” and “Sweating Bullets,” “Foreclosure of a Dream” and my personal favorite, “Architecture of Aggression,” prove why this record launched Megadeth into the stratosphere.

#2. Rust in Peace (1990) — What more can anyone say about this record that hasn’t already been shouted from the rafters? As the most heralded record in the Megadeth discography, Rust in Peace debuted the best lineup, fully established their now iconic sound, and ignited an incredible multi-album hot streak. Admittedly, I arrived at the Rust in Peace party late—discovering this masterpiece only after Countdown to Extinction had dropped. But it’s also cool to be fashionably late, right? Aside from the cheesy “Dawn Patrol,” this record is nothing less than a classic, proving why Megadeth earned their spot atop the thrash hierarchy.

#1. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — Speaking of classics, this was my gateway into Megadeth and the wider world of thrash metal. On a local record store recommendation,¹⁰ I picked up the tape, and once Samuelson’s drum roll kicked off “Wake Up Dead,” that was all she wrote. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? is a masterclass in aggression and technicality. While “Wake Up Dead,” the title track and “The Conjuring” are popular classics, it’s the darker, complex depths of “Bad Omen,” “Devil’s Island” and “Good Mourning / Black Friday” that define the record’s soul. The musical evolution from their debut to this is nothing short of astonishing. Most point to Rust in Peace as the pinnacle, but for me, this will forever be the definitive Megadeth record. It’s home to some of the most legendary, headbangable riffs ever written and is the ultimate Deth experience.

Baguette of Bodom

With great ’80s thrashing comes great ’90s blunders, unless you’re Testament. MEGADAVE’s long history contains many missteps, and the incessant obsession with remixing everything 17 times made this younger metalhead’s introductory experience needlessly confusing years ago. That being said, the highs are very high indeed, and I love talking veteran bands without any nostalgia goggles. For this ranking, I’m taking my favorite (and hence, most familiar) version of each album into account, usually indicated by the cover art. Though many of the originals are a must, there are notable exceptions.¹¹ Lists sell… but who’s buying?

#16. The World Needs a Hero (2001) – Nothing says ‘thrash comeback’ like sly, edgy ’00s breakup songs at 50 BPM. Infinitely worse than their rock misadventures ever were, the stretch from “1000 Times Goodbye” to alt-metal ballad “Promises” should be considered a war crime. At least “Return to Hangar” apes a good Megadeth track.

#15. Super Collider (2013) — I don’t know what possessed Dave to reattempt the Risk method, but it went even worse for him this time. There are a couple of okay tracks here (“Kingmaker,” “Built for War”), but as a whole, the album just comes off as bafflingly tone-deaf and humorously weak.

#14. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — Holy cow, what a massive disappointment. I thought they were getting somewhere again with Dystopia, and then they fell right back below sea level. The title track and the fun “Mission to Mars” are salvageable, otherwise it’s a bloated monstrosity full of mediocre to bad re-thrash.

#13. Risk (1999) — Even having Risk this high might invoke threats of mob violence. Cuts like embarrassing arena wannabe “Crush ‘Em” make Risk comically lame, but some are decent and catchy (“Wanderlust,” “I’ll Be There”). Not a good record by any means, but Megadave is capable of worse than boring.

#12. United Abominations (2007) — A good four-track EP (especially “Washington Is Next!”) held hostage by the seven lame tracks that follow, not to mention “À Tout le Monde (Set Me Free)” being offensive to the original Youthanasia gem. Not an abomination, but still corny and mediocre.

#11. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — When discussing Megadeth’s ‘first four,’ SFSGSW is usually spoken of under breath, if mentioned at all. And for good reason: it’s angsty, gimmicky, and “Anarchy in the U.K.” is a Thing That Should Not Be. However, the all-time great “In My Darkest Hour” justifies the existence of the entire album.¹²

#10. Cryptic Writings (1997) — Overhated! It’s bloated with annoying radio filler, but also contains some strong, catchy tunes with a great sense of both melody and groove (“Trust,” “A Secret Place”). Crown jewel “She-Wolf” is a discography highlight, and the closest Megadave ever got to Iron Maiden.¹³

#9. Th1rt3en (2011) — Aside from the terribad name, Thirteen¹⁴ is also way overhated. It’s a bit too long and I don’t spin it regularly, but it’s a consistently solid record from a band that often struggles with consistency. Basically a slower Endgame/Dystopia, with good fun tracks like “Fast Lane” and “Wrecker.”¹⁵

#8. Dystopia (2016) — I’ve cooled on this album, but it’s still one of their better current-millennium records. Not that there’s a whole lot of competition! The instrumental “Conquer or Die!” is very fun in particular, but it’s good thrash all around, with more energy and stronger highlights than Thirteen. Worse vocals, though.

#7. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — A strong transitional record, even if somewhat overrated. Gimmicks (“Psychotron,” “Captive Honour”) and oversimplified guitar work set it back somewhat, but the highlights are great. The title track is one of Megadeth’s finest moments, and “Ashes in Your Mouth” deserves more praise, too.

#6. Endgame (2009) — This is commonly regarded as the best post-1990 ‘Deth, and I totally see why. It’s a powerful, aggressive, energetic record, almost front to back, with even shredtastic intro gem “Dialectic Chaos” somehow being a highlight. However, there are other albums that I think do more with higher peaks.

#5. The System Has Failed (2004) — Severely underrated! The songwriting is heavy, catchy, and creative all at the same time, in a way it hasn’t been ever since, and everything from “Die Dead Enough” to “Back in the Day” is an earworm. This album sees the brief comeback of Chris Poland, guitarist on KIMB and Peace Sells, and he’s still got it here. Drummer Vinnie Colaiuta (Frank Zappa, Joe Satriani) also brings in that crucial outside influence that often results in great albums. I could leave “Something That I’m Not” and the strange dual outro-ish last two tracks off, but they’re alright as is.

#4. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — An endlessly fun, blazing fast, wild, and free set of bangers by a pissed-off young Dave and co. How could anyone resist “The Skull Beneath the Skin” or “Mechanix?” Though the original $0 budget mix of the album (not easily available outside of YouTube) is limp and occasionally harms the listening experience, the 2002 mix pictured here is fortunately great and largely fixes its issues. That being said, the original uncensored version of “These Boots” is much preferable—but the re-recorded and censored one on reissues is really funny in its own way.

#3. Youthanasia (1994) — Much like The Ritual was Testament’s way of showing the world you can ‘sell out’ and still make great music,¹⁶ Youthanasia managed to do the same to Megadeth’s already Countdown-diluted sound. Except this is a direct upgrade to Countdown. An infectiously catchy album front to back, loaded with great tunes while still featuring strong guitar work and clever songwriting by Marty and Dave. The back half deserves more recognition for its excellencies: “Family Tree,” “Blood of Heroes,” and song title reference extravaganza “Victory” to boot. I’d maybe only drop the title track, funnily enough.

#2. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — Despite my accidentally remix-fueled lukewarm first impression,¹⁷ the original version soon found its way through my ears into my heart and never left. Maybe part of its magic is the jazz fusion background of Chris Poland and drummer Gar Samuelsson being more prominent, or the gang blowing a little less money on drugs, or both. Regardless, Peace Sells is a special little bottle of lightning, relentless yet intelligent, and massively hook-laden. “I Ain’t Superstitious” is the only slight drawback, but “My Last Words” makes you forget it by dishing out some of the best guitar work in the genre.

#1. Rust in Peace (1990) — What is there left to say about a stone-cold classic and nigh-perfect album that hasn’t already been said? Controversially, I prefer the 2004 remix for its drum sound,¹⁸ but Rust would take the crown either way. An album that starts with “Holy Wars… The Punishment Due” and ends in “Rust in Peace… Polaris” is already an absolute monster, and the rest of the track list is equally fantastic¹⁹ only further cements its status as an all-timer. This is the album that introduced drummer Nick Menza and guitarist Marty Friedman to the wider metal world, and the music is all the richer for it. Thunderous rhythm and lead guitar work, legendary solo craft, complex yet catchy barn-burners—it’s all here. Rust in Peace is not just a cornerstone of thrash metal; it’s also a hallmark of progressive metal.

Andy-War-Hall

I remember when Pandora radio first put Megadeth’s “Skin O’ My Teeth” my way, exposing an impressionable teenage Andy to thrash metal for the very first time. At once, I grew angrier, my IQ plummeted substantially, and my chances at female companionship dropped to NY Jets Super Bowl probabilities. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Megadeth is a household name of heavy metal for a reason, and their discography has shaped the genre forever. To the kings of Too Much—whether it be notes-per-riff, ellipses-per-title, or time scrolling Facebook conspiracy theory rabbit holes—we salute thee!

#16. Risk (1999) — Risk is—to borrow the closing line of “Take No Prisoners”—”shit.” Every choice in Risk attempts to ride the already-tired waves of alt-rock and arena country. Worse yet, none of it sounds good at all. To quote “Good Mourning/Black Friday”—”What the fuck is this?”

#15. Super Collider (2013) — You know your album is in dire straits when you gotta tap Disturbed’s David Draiman for songwriting help. Just barely not Megadeth’s worst album, Super Collider feels the most exasperating. Butt-rock banality infects every nook and cranny, presenting Megadeth as a band thoroughly out of steam. Nuts.

#14. The World Needs a Hero (2001) — Bouncing back from Risk was never going to be easy. This isn’t a bounce back. If not for “Dread and the Fugitive Mind” or the deeply ironic enjoyment I derive from “1000 Times Goodbye,” TWNaH could easily have slipped to the bottom of this list for its shallowness alone.

#13. Th1rt3en (2011) — This straight up pisses me off that I got Th1rt3en at #13. It feels like I let Dave win. It being here has the same air of pretense as Mustaine’s decision to make Th1rt3en thirteen tracks long. There are perhaps five acceptable ones.

#12. Cryptic Writings (1997) — You know, I actually had a bit of fun with my last spin of Cryptic Writings. It stinks, but don’t let the Motörhead beligerence of “The Disintegrators,” the Maidenesque harmonies of “She-Wolf” or the pure thrash bonanza of “FFF” be forgotten amongst the bad of Cryptic Writings.

#11. United Abominations (2007) — If Mustaine wasn’t so utterly miserable all the time, United Abominations could’ve been awesome. The grooves and solos are real, but not one of you can tell me that the rants on “United Abominations” or “Amerikhastan” make the music better. Turn off the TV, Dave. Take a deep breath.

#10. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — Megadeth engenders strong opinions. Love ’em or hate ’em, you either love ’em or hate ’em. I have no strong feelings towards The Sick… I chuckle at the “Bring out yer dead!” sampling in the title track. I wince at Ice-T’s narration on “Night Stalkers.” Beyond that, it’s fine.

#9. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — The roughest, crustiest of Megadeth’s early material, So Far… feels like a band caught in limbo, embodying neither the piss-and-vinegar of KIMB nor the sophistication of Rust in Peace. But it’s still plenty fun, particularly with the closing three tracks. It’s like Peace Sells after a few beers.

#8. Youthanasia (1994) — The faintest odors of the enshittification of Megadeth can be smelt at times, particularly in its more rock-driven moments, but Youthanasia is nonetheless a killer send-off record to Deth’s best lineup. I used “Reckoning Day” in a short story I wrote in college one time. It was bad.

#7. Dystopia (2016) — When I heard “Fatal Illusion”‘s bitchin’ bass line in high school, I entered a fugue state and woke up with a Dystopia t-shirt from Hot Topic. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the rest of the album was also mostly good, if a bit slow at times.

#6. The System Has Failed (2004) — Why does nobody talk about The System Has Failed? After Megadeth’s most miserable stretch of albums, bangers like “Blackmail the Universe” and “Kick the Chair” soar in purest triumph. Some slight duds here and there keep it down, but if you’ve slept on The System then correct that at once!

#5. Endgame (2009) — Where Mustaine and co. found the spark that set Endgame ablaze so late in their career is a mystery to me, but boy am I glad they found it! Endgame is erupting flatulent with adrenaline-rushed barn burners like “Headcrusher,” “This Day We Fight!” and “1,320′,” and Megadeth sounds almost as volatile as they did on Killing Is My Business… with Chris Broderick’s gob-smacking guitar solos. If not for the out-of-place balladry of “The Hardest Part of Letting Go…Sealed with a Kiss,” this could’ve been a top-three contender. Shred ’til yer ded!

#4. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — The album that set Megadeth on the course towards fancier, more adventurous waves, Peace Sells… feels like the record Mustaine wanted to write but needed to vent with Killing Is My Business… first. From nasty bruisers like “Wake Up Dead” and “Devil’s Island” to dramatically-bent cuts like “The Conjuring” and “Good Mourning/Black Friday” to Mustaine’s first awkward steps into political commentary on “Peace Sells,” the Megadeth we know today truly began with this record. To put it simply, stupid, Peace Sells… is a huge part of what made ’86 the year for thrash metal.

#3. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Do you understand just how incredibly slick Countdown to Extinction is? Yeah, it’s a long step back technically from Rust in Peace, but with that stripping down in chops came sharpness, and songs like “Skin O’ My Teeth,” “Architecture of Aggression” and “High Speed Dirt” are lean, mean and sharp, indeed. Countdown sees Megadeth at their absolute hookiest, with “Symphony of Destruction,” “Sweating Bullets” and “Foreclosure of a Dream” digging deeper into my gray matter than any of their bids for radio play ever could. If not for some bloat at the end, Countdown could’ve threatened the top spot.²⁰

#2. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — The Megadeth we all know began with Peace Sells… but Killing Is My Business… is just Dave Mustaine doing what Dave Mustaine does best: playing way too many notes way too fast and way too mad. And I love it. These riffs are just stupid in the best way, imbuing “Looking Down the Cross,” “Rattlehead” and “Mechanix” with so much spite and hostility it’s stupefying. While most pre-extreme metal records that once terrified parents now come off as a bit toothless, Killing Is My Business…, while still kinda silly, sounds dangerous in 2026.

#1. Rust in Peace (1990) — I like Megadeth. Hopefully, that came across after all of this. But for every album of theirs, even the good ones, there’s usually one or two questionable aspects or a dud song that keep them from being essential. Rust in Peace, however, is as totally essential as an album can be. Manned by Megadeth’s greatest lineup in Mustaine, Ellefson, Menza and Friedman, Rust in Peace is a heavy metal masterclass and an unquestionable classic. A marvelous artistic achievement that’s as technical (“Lucretia”) as it is emotional (“Tornado of Souls”) as it is dreadful (“Holy Wars…The Punishment Due”) as it is fun (“Take No Prisoners”), Rust in Peace is the kind of masterpiece only Dave Mustaine and his complete unwillingness to restrain himself could create. Proving that “Less Is More” is the greatest scam of our age, Rust In Peace is Megadeth’s magnum opus and you’d better believe it!

Tyme

As contentious as it’s been at times, I wouldn’t want to live in a universe where Metallica never kicked Dave Mustaine to the curb. The fact that two of the greatest thrash metal bands of all time sprouted from that split inarguably supports that statement. Despite his ups and downs and propensity for assholeish shenanigans, I’ve always been a Dave fan. As we seem to have reached a time when he’s poised to walk away from music on his terms, I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little verklempt about it. Megadeth has been a massive part of my metal upbringing, and I’ll always be thankful for the music that’ll be left behind. Well, maybe not all of it, this is a ranking post after all.

#16. Super Collider (2013) — Especially disappointing since I’d hoped Megadeth’s Risk years were safely behind them. From the cringe-inducing lyrics and tired, played-out riffs to the ridiculously boring, Vic-free cover, Super Collider is insipidly weak. It sits at the bottom of my barrel as a testament to Dave’s riskily unlearned lesson.

#15. Risk (1999) — Intentional or not, Risk was definitely that, a radio-rock debacle that more than earned its spot here. This album had always been Dave’s longest-standing turd for me, at least until 2013. My second listen, endured solely for this ranking, did nothing to change that opinion.

#14. The World Needs a Hero (2001) — Outside of “Return to Hangar,” which is a decent song even if it’s offensively cheesy, I had never listened to TWNaH completely. Megadeth-lite had entirely moved off my radar after Risk, so I never even thought about giving this a spin in 2001, or any other year until now. Thrash.

#13. Th1rt3en (2011) — Beyond the uber-cheesy, ridiculously juvenile ’13’ puns, there were a few rays of promise on this mostly bloated platter (“Sudden Death,” “Black Swan,” and “13”). Not even Dave Ellefson’s return could elevate the album from its inherent mediocrity, though—the last body in the sub-basement of Megadeth’s discog.

#12. United Abominations (2007) — I saw Megadeth live for the first time during 06’s Gigantour, where I picked up a nifty autographed print of United Abominations’ cover art. This album is mid-tier Megadeth, and while a few diamonds exist, it takes some weed-whacking through the rough to find them.

#11. Cryptic Writings (1997) — Tolerably catchy, Cryptic Writings was a definite precursor to Megadeth’s dark years (1998 – 2003). Still, there’s a handful of tracks here I return to on the regular. For me, Cryptic Writings marked the end of the most successful run of Megadeth’s existence.

#10. Endgame (2009) — By far one of the better records to come from the second half of Megadeth’s career, Endgame is full of crispy riffs and Dave’s trademark snarls. It is by far the best album recorded by the Broderick, LoMenzo, Drover line-up, even though I don’t return to it very often.

#9. Dystopia (2016) — Sporting one of my favorite Megadeth covers, Dystopia brings the riffs in droves. Kiko Loureiro’s guitar mastery and Chris Adler’s drum magic elevate the material, even bolstering Ellefson’s performance, who sounds satisfyingly rejuvenated. My biggest nit is that almost every track has an annoying fade-in.

#8. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — With the return of the mighty Megadethian ellipsis, and the addition of Steve DiGiorgio and Dirk Verbeuren, TS,tD… atD blew me away, coming out swinging way harder than it had any right to. Unequivocally, my favorite thing Megadeth has done in nearly two decades as of this ranking. Let the beatings commence.

#7. The System Has Failed (2004) — After disbanding due to injury, it was encouraging to hear Dave had recovered and, despite my trepidation, was going to release a solo record.²¹ I was, however, beyond stoked to see the Rattlehead-adorned, Megadeth-monikered TSHF drop, which was light years better than I anticipated, with keenly satisfying melodies and some of Dave’s best vocals.²²

#6. Youthanasia (1994) — As an old-head Megadeth fan, the more melodic direction raised some concerns, but Youthanasia is one of the best-sounding albums in the band’s discography. That first warm and crunchy riff on “Reckoning Day” still works wonders, while “À Tout le Monde,” albeit overwrought, rocks and could only have been pulled off by Dave. Oui oui.

#5. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — My appreciation for SF, SG… SW! did not manifest until later in my metal life. I mean, any album was going to struggle to meet the high bar set by Peace Sells, but the thin production and, what I perceived as lackluster songs, aside from the most excellent “In My Darkest Hour,” just didn’t land with me. In time, though, I came to love this little gem, from the album’s lethal opening one-two punch to the last couple uppercuts (“Liar,” “Hook In Mouth”). It’s the weakest of Megadeth’s first four outings, to be sure, but it’s still a classic and sits deservingly at my number five.

#4. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Countdown to Extinction is a muther fuckin’ CRUNCH fest. With its surgically precise production, every riff, lick, lead, bass line, and snare strike sounds crystal clear, putting the album in a sonic category all its own. Yes, it was a more rock-forward affair and a departure from the classic thrash assault Megadeth had become known for, but I love every minute of it. Countdown holds some of my favorite deep cuts (“This Was My Life,” “Psychotron,” “Ashes in Your Mouth”) and, despite its uber-popularity, “Symphony of Destruction” is still a pulse pounder.

#3. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — When Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor came wafting out of my speakers for the first time, it hooked me. Every acidic drop of Dave’s piss and vinegar attitude pours out of each minute on Killing, his vocal performance brilliantly unhinged. Of the Big Four debuts, Killing Is My Business stands as the rawest and most eclectic, full of lightning-fast riffs and jazzy, blues-tinged melodies. Ellefson’s performance, especially, is a delight for me, ebullient and Maideningly noodling, it stands as the best of his Megadeth career. And by the time I made it to the jet-fueled funny car speed of “Mechanix,” I was fascinated by how fast “The Four Horsemen” could be played.

#2. Rust in Peace (1990) — Technically proficient, polished, and magnificently executed, Rust in Peace is one of the largest jewels in Megadeth’s crown. In fact, there’s not a track on this, or on either of the other two excellent Megaplatters wedged above and below it on this list, that compels me to reach for the skip button, bangers all. A guitar-lover’s absolute wet dream, Friedman and Mustaine combine to turn in the shreddingest performance of any Megadeth release bar none. And though the Friedman, Ellefson, Menza iteration of the band would never surpass the excellence on offer here, they never needed to—Megadeth perfection.

#1. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — If the 80s were the golden age of thrash, 1986 was the platinum year of that age—each of the Big Four releasing, for me at least, the best albums of their careers.²³ Peace Sells took the unhinged craziness of Killing and honed it to a razor’s edge, while still retaining a rawness that, for me, perfectly embodies the classic sound of thrash metal. Coming of age at a time when MTV was still playing music videos, I spent countless nights riveted to the screen watching Headbanger’s Ball, and no video got my blood pumping more than “Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying?” It’s my favorite Megadeth song to this day, and that harmonized breakdown mid-song still gives me goosebumps. From the brilliantly rendered Ed Repka cover art, whose work became synonymous with the genre, to the thirty-six minutes of utter thrash metal bliss, Peace Sells has been and will always be my number one.

MegaDolph

I’ve been listening to Megadeth for almost as long as I’ve been listening to metal, as classic NWOBHM and shred led me straight down a path to thrash. With a perpetual chip on his shoulder and a voice suited for little beyond punkish and sneering music, Dave Mustaine cemented his brand of all-fury riffcraft and roll-the-dice band selection into my listening history, even if his own history with Megadeth has near as many flaws as it does adornments. And so, in the spirit that Mustaine would harbor, I’m pulling no punches and delivering my mostly agreeable stances on Megadeth with tact and brevity. And that leads us straight to…

The Bad: The bottom can be entertaining in some discographies, but when #16 Risk (1999) holds the floor, you get tepid alt-rock sung by a guy who should be doing something else. Likewise, when #15 The World Needs a Hero (2001) stands above it in its “Dave writes songs about being angry at women” glory, and when Dave wastes the screeching talents of Al Pitrelli (Savatage, Trans-Siberian Orchestra), little better awaits you. I wish I could say that #14 Super Collider (2013) raised the bar, but in a similar fashion to its rung below, Chris Broderick might as well have had his guitar credits removed cause Dave went to great lengths to focus on anything but what Broderick could add to Dave revisiting sloggy blues rock with the occasional thrash riff. #13 Cryptic Writings (1997) marks the first improvement on this grueling path to the good stuff, if only because a few songs continue the playful-but-not-really-thrash energy of early ’90s Deth. #12 The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) sees Dave pulling the same old tricks in hiring legendary bassist Steve DiGiorgio (Quadvium, Testament) just for him to be part of the album’s absent low-end; however, Kiko Loureiro (ex-Angra), at least, bolsters this walking speed collection with sick solos. In many ways, #11 Endgame (2009) was the same album, a little more than a decade earlier, but with Chris Broderick being the additional fretboard fire—I wish those flames had burned “The Hardest Part of Letting Go… Sealed with a Kiss” to ashes. But, as we move to the top 10 of Megadeth’s career, things truly do get better.

#10. Th1rt3en (2011) — Though a cut above the most disposable of Megadeth’s works—and host to their worst album name by a wide margin—Dave wears his last effective snarl in the Megadeth chronology and manages to use Broderick in smart ways against his punky/blues rock attitude.

#9. Dystopia (2016) — Much like the album that comes after it (The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead!), its breezy cadence makes for a low enthusiasm experience, but one with Kiko Loureiro, again, stealing the show when he’s allowed to flex—he’s even given one full song to himself to do it (“Conquer or Die”)!

#8. Youthanasia (1994) — Though already halfway to the sound they’d explore later in the ’90s, Megadeth still thinks they’re a groovy metal band for most (sans the ballads, yuck) of Youthanasia, which goes a long way with the classic Menza-Ellefson rhythm section and Friedman solo magic.

#7. United Abominations (2007) — The Drover brothers harbor the tightest rhythm-lead interplay on UA since Youthanasia while Dave drags it down all the way to the 7-spot by filling about 71% of this album with drunk uncle ranting and radio-filtered “samples.”

#6.Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Hot off the heels of Rust in Peace, this step backwards in composition functions a lot like the step backwards that So Far, So Good… So What! delivered, except that about half the songs disappear under the weight of its best cuts.

#5. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — A lot of people, even my colleagues, I’m sure, will call half this album filler or unadvisable, but I call it Dave having a blast with one-time second guitarist Jeff Young, littering pinchy, wailing, neoclassical lead work over punchy, punky, small club thrash.²⁴

#4. The System Has Failed (2004) — System possesses an ambition in Megadeth returning to thrash, Poland returning to melting faces, and Dave creating big studio arrangements around riffed out hooks and his classic snarky diatribes—balance and power.

#3. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — Megadeth sounds like they could fall apart at any moment of Killing’s reckless 6-string mania, but they never do despite having blown most of their production budget on performance-enhancing substances.

#2. Rust in Peace (1990) — Megadeth captured Marty Friedman in his metal-related creative peak, which makes for some of the most iconic thrash solos that elevate simpler cuts—most of Rust is quite technical and progressive for an American thrash band at that time—like “Take No Prisoners” and “Poison Was the Cure” to rager status.

#1. Peace Sells… But Who’s Buying? (1986) — Bass-forward, fretboard gymnastics-loaded, and crowd-ready in its aggressive thrash platform, Peace Sells stands the test of time in every riff, in every spiteful Dave spitting, and every sweat stain of pure mosh energy.

Angry Metal Guy Staff Ranking

We’ve once again used our tallying magic to use a complex point system based on submitted rankings.

1. 1. Risk (1999)
   2. Super Collider (2013)
   3. The World Needs a Hero (2001)
   4. Th1rt3en (2011)
   5. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022)
   6. Cryptic Writings (1997)
   7. United Abominations (2007)
   8. Dystopia (2016)
   9. Endgame (2009)
   10. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988)
   11. The System Has Failed (2004)
   12. Youthanasia (1994)
   13. Countdown to Extinction (1992)
   14. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985)
   15. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986)
   16. Rust in Peace (1990)

Angry Metal Discord Pile o’ Entitled Opinions

We did the same thing for our Discord users. Their opinions smell almost as bad as they do. But they have strong opinions about Dave and his rotating cast of thrashy miscreants. There’s no way they got it more right though… right? But you asked for more lists²⁵

1. 1. Super Collider (2013)
   2. The World Needs a Hero (2001)
   3. Risk (1999)
   4. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022)
   5. Th1rt3en (2011)
   6. United Abominations (2007)
   7. Cryptic Writings (1997)
   8. Dystopia (2016)
   9. The System Has Failed (2004)
   10. Youthanasia (1994)
   11. Endgame (2009)
   12. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988)
   13. Countdown to Extinction (1992)
   14. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985)
   15. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986)
   16. Rust in Peace (1990)

Given the wide reach Megadeth’s music has, we thought it would be a good exercise to highlight some of Deth’s lesser-known tracks to let casual listeners know what they’ve been missing.

The post AMG Goes Ranking – Megadeth appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Revocation makes me feeling fucking old. It’s difficult to believe fifteen odd years have passed since stumbling across their phenomenal sophomore effort, Existence is Futile. It became instantly clear Revocation were one of the fresher, most exciting bands emerging in the modern metal scene of the era. Their career seemed to propel in fast forward as they pumped out top notch album after album, maintaining an impressive work rate and exceptional consistency, while refusing to repeat themselves. Couple of minor bumps along the way notwithstanding, Revocation’s vibrant, signature combination of technical death-thrash, infectious songwriting and acrobatic guitar hero shreddage from mastermind Dave Davidson has long cemented Revocation as a titanic force in the crowded realms of the modern metalverse.

Formed in 2006, the Bostonites unleashed their brash and confident debut Empire of the Obscene in 2008. From humble but exciting beginnings the Revo boys have proceeded to go on an absolute fucking tear across multiple albums, the most recent being the darker pathways and heavier pastures of 2022’s Netherheaven, arguably a return to form. Though in fairness Revocation have never dropped a dud, and despite a couple of minor career lulls, they have remained a dependably consistent force to be reckoned with.

September 26th, 2025 ushers in Revocation’s ninth LP, New Gods, New Masters. As anticipation grows for the star packed opus, what better time for our resident Revocation fanboys; including the return of the illustrious Kronos, who so eloquently championed the band on these very pages across multiple releases with his insightful wordsmithery and critical analysis, to unload our collective opinions on the band’s formidable discography. Nearly twenty years since their formation and boasting a catalog of rare consistency and power, we have our work cut out for us. Strap yourselves in…

Disclaimer: After careful consideration we have actioned the Human Waste/Despise the Sun Ranking Law of including Revocation’s highly regarded Teratogenesis EP from 2012 due to the consensus this is a meaty and essential mini-platter in the power packed Revocation repertoire.

The Rankings

Saunders

#9. The Outer Ones (2018) – While difficult to pinpoint, The Outer Ones remains an elusive Revocation album, and one I reach for least frequently, despite being one their more recent offerings. Although The Outer Ones doesn’t deviate savagely from the vice-tight yet elastic formula Revocation long since mastered, it leans deeper into murkier blackened death forays and features a cold, clinical and dissonant edge. Its darkly menacing sheen and blasty, death forward approach is responsible for some rousing moments and it’s easy to admire the album’s frantic, calculated intensity. Tunes like the rip-roaring opener “Of Unworldly Origin,” chunky brawler “The Outer Ones” and the thrashy, proggy blackened death of “Luciferous” highlight an album that has grown on me but ultimately falls short of the band’s other works.

#8. Empire of the Obscene (2008) – A bold and potential-packed debut, Empire of the Obscene rises well beyond a mere curiosity or roughshod early edition of Revocation’s rapidly evolving sound. I came to the debut after being first enamored by Existence is Futile and Chaos of Forms, both superior examples of the band’s exceptional early career highs. Still, Empire of the Obscene is a killer debut and refreshing, slashing technical thrash opus, with a healthy smattering of death. The vibrant, raging “Tail from the Crypt” is an early career highpoint, while other choice cuts include the bizarro “Suffer These Wounds,” and rippling axerobatics of “Exhumed Identity.” It’s solid stuff, yet inconsistencies creep in and some of the writing feels a tad overcooked, falling short of the ripping high standards and impeccable writing featured across the Revocation career arc

#7. Great is Our Sin (2016) – Perhaps the first time upon release a Revocation release failed to gain immediate traction. Again the sheer strength and power of its predecessors found Great is Our Sin fall a fraction short of the impeccable standards maintained during the first half dozen or so years of the band’s recording career. And it feels like an outlier merging the band’s different eras, pre and post-Revocation. Playful tech thrash energy, proggy dabbling, and darker, deathly pummels are in abundance, as per expectations. I appreciate the more thrash-centric turns, less prominent in their later era. Great is Our Sin features many of the strong attributes listeners have come to expect, sounding like a melodically mature yet overly familiar and safe album. The songwriting is consistently solid, featuring the odd flirtation with greatness. Old school flavored thrasher “Arbiters of the Apocalypse,” the prog-infused death-thrash of “Communion,” sinister, punishing thrust of “Only the Spineless Survive,” and epic, experimental rumble of “Cleaving Giants of Ice” are nuggety examples of the album’s finer moments.

#6. Netherheaven (2022) – Netherheaven marked a refreshing return to form after the solid if underwhelming, The Outer Ones. Kronos hit the nail on the head when he proclaimed Netherheaven to be the natural successor to Deathless, as similarities in tone, mood and execution are evident. Revocation flexed their deathly muscles and advanced musicianship in service of complex, yet undoubtedly catchy compositions, such as the brutally groovy throes of “Nihilistic Violence,” labyrinthine trip of “Strange and Eternal” and blast-addled, vocal trade-off on scorching closer “Re-Crucified.” Despite being enveloped with shadowy, sinister atmospheres, Netherheaven is imbued with a fun, adventurous spirit, also resulting in one of Revocation’s heaviest offerings. Davidson’s ever inspiring axework never ceases to amaze and songwriting finds a real sweet spot between grooving, chunky chugs, technical mastery, and throwbacks to their thrashy roots. Meanwhile, his increasingly versatile and confident vocals remain a somewhat underrated aspect of the Revocation experience. Not a career high point, but a great album nonetheless.

#5. Deathless (2014) – Revocation’s distinctive formula has long separated them from the hordes of tech death and thrash bands in the scene. One of Revocation’s greatest attributes is their ability to manipulate their craft and pivot in versatile directions. Deathless emerged as a darker, sinister trip down a fittingly deathlier path, creating a welcome stylistic deviation to evolve and keep any semblance of stagnation at bay. Though follow-up Great is Our Sin slightly deviated, Deathless marked the beginning of Revocation embracing the darker corners of their psyche, charting murkier, heavier and altogether more brutal, unforgiving terrain. Thankfully, Deathless didn’t abandon their knack for penning challenging, infectious, thrash-powered tech-death jams. Nor does Deathless forget how to have fun, as evidenced by the shout-along chorus and straightforward headbangable riffs adorning the title track. However, Deathless’ most impactful, jolting moments are delivered elsewhere. Classic opener “A Debt Owed to the Grave” and the cutthroat “Scorched Earth Policy” unleash vicious yet eloquently delivered evidence Revocation still thrash with the best of them. While the immense “Madness Opus” channels Revocation’s progressive inclinations within a barbed, death metal shell. Top-tier stuff.

#4: Revocation (2013) – The dark horse and underrated gem in the Revocation kit bag, their self-titled effort sparkled between the stunning Teratogenesis EP and the brooding tones and violent stomp of Deathless. Though not regularly mentioned amongst the band’s finer works, Revocation demands regular attention amidst an increasingly stacked catalog. Following up Chaos of Forms was always going to be a tough ask, however, Revocation proved up to the challenge. Revocation is a playful, quirky, fun-filled blast from go to whoa, keeping Revocation’s ever-evolving formula fresh and inspired. The versatile songwriting makes for a consistently gripping listen and one of their more diverse offerings. Whether belting out aggressive, full-throttle tech-thrash workouts (“The Hive,” “Numbing Agents”), warped tech death beatdowns (“Fracked,” “Scattering the Flock”), banjo-infected riff monsters (“Invidious”) or mosh-ready juggernauts (“Archfiend”), Revocation has all bases covered. A slightly more stock backend the only thing diminishing an otherwise top-notch album.

#3. Teratogenesis (2012) – Only the most curmudgeony, glass-half-empty pessimist discounts the short and sweet value of the often underrated EP format. Continuing a creatively booming and prolific hot streak, Teratogenesis is a wild, breakneck ride featuring the Revocation lads operating at the peak of their powers. New and old listeners alike would be foolish to neglect this action-packed beauty. If there is something slightly lacking in Revocation’s later career, it misses the outrageously fun and turbo-charged thrashiness and technically dazzling though infectious spirit so prevalent on Teratogenesis and surrounding releases. Revocation’s eye-popping instrumental prowess and whipsmart songwriting serve genuinely well-crafted, catchy songcraft and a bevy of sharp turning dynamic twists and killer riffs. “The Grip Tightens” bottles everything great about the Revocation sound into a career stunner. Elsewhere, “Manically Unleashed” unleashes cracking bursts of tech thrash precision amidst intricate melodic breaks and soul-searching solos, while “Bound By Desire” closes proceedings with a blast and thrash-riddled bang, replete with gorgeous melodic soloing and proggy touches.

#2. Chaos of Forms (2011) – Weirdly enough, I recall being fleetingly underwhelmed when Chaos of Forms dropped. Expectations were sky high, and Chaos of Forms represented a different beast to its immediate predecessor. Featuring an aggressive though more lighthearted, freewheeling tone and experimental streak, Chaos has long since become a personal favorite and modern metal classic. It is also rather simply the most fun Revocation album. Davidson is in his element, firing off some of the finest solos of his career to decorate fast-paced, quirky tech death-thrash compositions, aided by an unstoppable line-up, including the first to feature guitarist/vocalist Dan Gargiulo (Artificial Brain), adding an exciting extra dimension to the band’s sound. Unleashing a trio of instant Revocation classics right off the bat courtesy of “Cretin,” “Grave Robber” and “Harlot”, any notion Chaos of Forms being front-loaded is swiftly demolished as the album unfurls with banger after banger. From the melodic, singalong chorus of “No Funeral,” through to the brainy, twisting riffage of the title track, zippy, thrash-laden charge of “Beloved Horrifier,” and densely packed, stuttering tech death of “Reprogrammed,” Chaos is a versatile, sparkling jewel in the Revocation canon.

#1. Existence is Futile (2009) – Beyond the endearing factor, this was my first Revocation album and the warm fuzzy nostalgia associated; Revocation’s astonishing sophomore belter Existence is Futile emerged as a bottled lightning moment. Revocation’s impressively acrobatic musicianship and technical prowess was accelerated to new heights. However, the bulletproof songwriting and smart, yet dazzlingly intriguing arrangements were grounded by tight and aggressive songs that pulled no punches. An astonishing leap forward from an already exciting and accomplished debut, Existence is Futile has a raw energy and speedy, exhilarating urgency backed by polished, intricate songwriting, parasitic hooks and the warped, unmatched musicianship and advanced shreddery we have now long come to expect from Davidson and crew. Songs are largely stripped back in length from the debut, pared down to the bare essentials, maximizing impact. Davidson’s underrated vocals sound as vital as ever. A thoroughly gripping listen front to back, with the likes of “Pestilence Reigns,” “Deathonomics,” “The Brain Scramblers,” “Reanimaniac,” “Dismantle the Dictator” and ambitious closer “The Tragedy of Modern Ages” a handful of essential cuts.

Kronos

“Please help!” prayed my erstwhile colleagues, “our taste is underdeveloped to a near-blastular degree, and we are oh so disdraught! We seek but a simple ordination of technical death-thrash records but lack the True Knowledge of quality!”

Now moved, I descend from on high, gracing them not just with my presence but with my very acknowledgement of their pitiful existence: in one hand my catechism, in the other my nose. For those enlightened beyond the reflexive need to communicate the truths of quality, the ordering of Revocation records is a simple thing. One needs only to recognize the generational talent and drive of a one Dave Davidson, the extraordinary caliber of musicians that he has surrounded himself with, and analyze the triumphs and, shall we say, try-umphs, of their many recordings with an objective eye informed by a coherent understanding of the material and aesthetic universe in which they occur.

# 9 The Outer Ones (2018) – Revocation built a career based on an inseparable trinity of inventive riffs, creative songwriting, and infectious fun. In 2018 they denied this trinity and were cast into oblivion for four years thereafter; sentenced to relentless touring in which they played The Outer Ones lethargic and self-serious tech death alongside probably fifty other bands peddling similar stuff but more committed to it. That The Outer Ones seems to be their most popular release is a testament to the essential wickedness of our heathen age, that so many will follow a false prophecy.

#8 Great Is Our Sin (2016) – Indeed, but Revocation’s Slayer-worship record might have been better named Great Will Be Our Sin, given that its follow-up was The Outer Ones. But the title gets the point across; this was at the time their nastiest, deathiest album. Muscular and mean, Great Is Our Sin attempted brute-force repentance with burly but brainy tracks like “Monolithic Ignorance” serving up festering fun and “Only the Spineless Survive” providing the band’s most brutal beating until Netherheaven. Cruel as a crucifixion, Great is Our Sin is a treat, but not a joy, to experience, with too much of its runtime given to grinding grooves that don’t showcase the band’s strengths.

#7 Empire of the Obscene (2008) – In a way, it’s stunning to see how far Revocation have come since their debut: not far at all. In this we are confronted by the theopneustic nature of their art; seventeen years on, we can expect New Gods, New Masters to sound basically like Empire of the Obscene. This is death thrash that, while more fun than a barrel of monkeys and twice as rowdy, is impossible to find corny because it’s just too perfectly executed. For a young band, Revocation have a self-assuredness that evades many veteran groups, even as the death-thrash trinity’s endless invention pushes fast-moving songs up to and past the five-minute mark. From the dry but clear production, grinning art-school riffing to the waggling, showboat jazz soloing, every surface of the Revocation mold is here for the band to crack and ooze out of and pull away from on future recordings.

#6 Netherheaven (2022) – Netherheaven saw Revocation a three-piece for the first time since Chaos of Forms, and on firm footing as ever to make their first devoted death metal record. Netherheaven’s highlights (“Galleries of Morbid Artistry” and “Re-Crucified”) unfold like intricate torture machines from a macabre storybook, but mean, mid-paced grooves stick together and weigh down far too much of the record’s runtime. Netherheaven recovered much of the charm that The Outer Ones jettisoned but doubts as to the band’s future form remain.

#5 Existence is Futile (2009) – Empire of the Obscene really didn’t need to be improved upon, but Revocation are moved not by need but possibility. Existence is Futile’s leaner, focused writing got the band out of their own way. While some sections can come across a bit sparse, the difference in memorability between Empire and Existence is marked, with tracks like Deathonomics and Dismantle the Dictator becoming staple songs. Gruesome tech-thrash tracks like “Pestillence Reigns” and “The Brain Scramblers” were a revelation, and bruisers like “Dismantle the Dictator” and “Anthem of the Betrayed” gained the group countless new adherents.

#4 Revocation (2013) – One of the lesser-appreciated joys of the Revocation discography are the band’s actual texts, and nowhere are they more compelling than on their self-titled record. Whether railing against the rich, oil companies, or the American media environment, Revocation pairs incisive sing-alongs with inspiring musicianship; Davidson even pulls out a Banjo to parody cable news (“Invidious”). Revocation capped the first era of the Revocation discography in impeccable form with their most front-to-back memorable LP.

#3 Deathless (2014) – Deathless was a turning point for Revocation; having played every riff possible on six strings, Davidson and Gargiulo turned fully to seven, beginning a more sinister version of Revocation that persists to this day. Yet Deathless isn’t heavy just for the sake of being heavy; it’s just as lithe and unpredictable as the records before it, but with a grim grace to its winding songs and some of the band’s most emotionally resonant solo work (see “Witch Trials”) and most poignant political criticism (“Beholden to their corporate masters/ politicians privatizing genocide/ condolences offered by the same who pulled the trigger” – “The Fix”). Without the grating title track, the record would be just about perfect.

#2 Teratogenesis (2012) – Many will argue (incorrectly) that Teratogenesis, Revocation’s 2012 EP hot off of the release of Chaos of Forms, is the group’s magnum opus. Granted, “The Grip Tightens” might be their best song, and, granted again, “Spurn the Outstretched Hand” might be their second-best song. But after that one-two punch of career-defining greats, they only go on to deliver three more. Paltry! Sure, the sinister “Teratogenesis” would prove to be the blueprint for the rest of their career, and “Bound By Desire” would shame thousands of aspiring axe-smiths with its sheer pummeling speed, but in context, Teratogenesis is dessert, a follow-up to what came just before. And there’s no horn section!

#1 Chaos of Forms (2011) – That Chaos of Forms is the highest among the Revocation records is almost axiomatic. From the opening bass slide of “Cretin” to the raving closing of “Reprogrammed,” there’s not a second of Chaos of Forms that doesn’t reach out and pull you into a rictus grin. Every song is packed to the brim with creative riffs, brilliant musicianship and playful twists. Take, for instance, “Cradle Robber,” which tips a playful chorus riff repeatedly into an absolute vortex of synchronized drumming and trem-picking until it spills over, then transitions into a spectacular solo courtesy of the newly-joined Dan Gargioulo. It’s put in its place by a brain-melting Davidson solo seconds later, for which the whole band actually speeds up, seemingly just to one-up the new guy. The pair return together with a showboat riff half-consumed by synchronized harmonics. Music really does not get much more fun than this, especially when it’s narrated by the Grim Reaper. The only time it does is when the music is “The Watchers,” which breaks out into a gallop halfway through before stampeding its way into a big, brassy introduction for producer Pete Rutcho’s funky little organ solo. Simply divine.

Maddog

In 2012, my metal taste was impressionable but ravenous. I spotted a death-thrash EP from an unfamiliar band, available for free download via the now-defunct label Scion A/V. Teratogenesis’ balance of death-thrash riffs and thoughtful melodies swept me off my feet.

In 2015, I had imbibed deeply of extreme metal, but never been to a show. One frigid night in February, I timidly headed to Brighton Music Hall in Boston. While Fallujah fell victim to sound issues, the final opener Revocation smashed me to pieces. It was a watershed moment in my metamorphosis from metal fan to metal adorer.

In 2025, Revocation is a cornerstone of my music taste. I love death metal; I love thrash’s energy; I love creative songwriting; I can’t help but love Revocation. Most of all, I love their consistency. Even the other two classic bands I’ve helped rank here (Suffocation and Dying Fetus) don’t have as deep a bench of memorable releases.

And so, perhaps you’re better off ignoring our concerted but pitiful attempts to dissect Revocation’s history. After all, this is Revocation; just listen to all of it.

#9. Empire of the Obscene (2008). Empire of the Obscene is merely a good album, but it lay the groundwork for Revocation’s career. While Empire isn’t as thrashy as its successor Existence Is Futile, melodeath permeates both its guitar leads and its riffs, which are textbook but punchy (“Summon the Spawn”). Despite its inconsistency, Empire of the Obscene hints at Revocation’s burgeoning strengths. The most brutal segments are death metal riffcraft at its finest (“Fields of Predation”), while the tinges of proggy song development are impressive for a new band. Even a fair helping of deathcore rears its head, remaining sporadic enough to stay fresh. Empire of the Obscene is entertaining, but with a 56-minute runtime and an overreliance on cookie-cutter death metal riffs, it struggles to stick in my mind. It’s a fun listen, but falls short of Revocation’s best.

#8. Deathless (2014). While Deathless is a worthwhile release, it doesn’t excel in any of Revocation’s usual dimensions. Frequent mid-paced riffs lose my focus throughout (“Madness Opus”), and I forget swaths of the album soon after it ends. Deathless progs with mixed success, and its creative efforts are often hindered by their length and low energy (“Apex”). The dwindling of Revocation’s thrash influences kneecaps the record. However, the exceptions save Deathless from the compost bin. The death-thrash menace “Scorched Earth Policy” houses one of Revocation’s most frantic and dangerous riffs, while the proggy adventures of “Witch Trials” hit hard because they’re tied together by punchy melodies. Deathless doesn’t top its neighbors, but it’s no slouch.

#7. Netherheaven (2022). Netherheaven’s ordinariness feels out of place. Revocation’s latest album abandons the elements that distinguished them from the death metal masses. The proggy escapades, off-kilter riffs, and melodeath influences are gone; the fretboard wizardry is dialed back; even thrash takes a back seat. And yet, Netherheaven succeeds as stone-cold death metal. Easily Revocation’s most brutal release, Netherheaven wows with the gigantic “Galleries of Morbid Artistry” and the rifftastic closer “Re-Crucified.” The occasional glimpses of Revocation’s former flair also go a long way, like the playful opening of “Strange and Eternal.” That said, Netherheaven suffers from inconsistency, with middling second-half tracks like “The 9th Chasm.” The technical spectacles feel like dispassionate exercises, and the lack of variety makes the album less replayable than Revocation’s best works. Still, there’s no shame in making rock-solid death metal. It’s telling that even my seventh-favorite Revocation album made my 2022 list.

#6. Revocation (2013). Often overlooked, Revocation’s self-titled showcases some of the band’s greatest guitar work. At this stage of their career, Revocation had mastered both the weird and the powerful. On one end, “Fracked” might be the guitar highlight of the band’s career, culminating with a virtuosic but punishing chorus and a climactic solo. Standing opposite, “Spastic” is a jazzy spectacle but holds my awe throughout. Uniting these worlds, “Invidious” blends a banjo intro, playful melodies, and a furious thrashy back half, while the shapeshifting “Archfiend” is the first and only Revocation track to make me cry. Revocation occupies a turning point, taming the insanity of Chaos of Forms without compromising its death-thrash intensity. While the midsection of Revocation shines, the record is bookended by slightly weaker cuts. Still, although it has more great songs than excellent songs, Revocation is essential in the Revocation canon.

#5. Chaos of Forms (2011). The aptly-titled Chaos of Forms is the wildest release of Revocation’s career. The infinitely thrashy tracks that kick things off are a riot, but they’re the tamest part. The album’s guitar effects (“Harlot”), lilted jazzy melodies (“Conjuring the Cataclysm”), and 1970s-inspired key digressions (“The Watchers”) are maniacal. These experiments work because Revocation is having fun every step of the way. To ward off any doubts, Chaos of Forms also features some of Revocation’s fiercest death-thrash riffs; indeed, “No Funeral” might be the greatest live performance I’ve ever witnessed. However, strangeness requires discipline, which Chaos of Forms could use more of. Fanciful digressions crop up in unexpected places, often sticking around long enough to confuse but not long enough to convince. Chaos of Forms isn’t Revocation’s most memorable record, but it’s easily the most ambitious.

#4. Teratogenesis (2012). The 22-minute Teratogenesis utilizes the EP format brilliantly, offering an action-packed tour through Revocation’s style. “The Grip Tightens” is a perfect crystallization of death-thrash, complete with both an iconic opening riff and one of metal’s most enduring music videos. Meanwhile, “Maniacally Unleashed” adventures from thrashy riffing to serene melodies as well as any other track in Revocation’s oeuvre. Teratogenesis hones the guitar pyrotechnics that would define its successor Revocation, employing them for stratospheric climaxes. While Teratogenesis loses steam as it progresses, this says more about the sky-high bar set by the first three tracks. In historical perspective, Teratogenesis feels monumental in the same way as Suffocation’s Human Waste. It isn’t flawless, but it’s an indispensable encapsulation of Revocation’s career. I can’t imagine them without it.

#3. Existence Is Futile (2009). Bridging the gap between the straightforward Empire of the Obscene and the batshit Chaos of Forms, Existence Is Futile is Revocation’s most melo- and least mellow album. Skeletonwitch looms large, and the album infects me through its chunky riffs (“Pestilence Reigns”), its jubilant solos (“Anthem of the Betrayed”), and its irresistible choruses (“Reanimaniac”). Even still, Existence Is Futile’s most enduring achievement is its thirst for adventure. The narrative evolution of the instrumental “Across Forests and Fjords” resembles Insomnium’s Winter’s Gate; in stark contrast, the proggy title track mutates so many times that I can never quite recall when it starts or ends. Not once does this ever feel like an intellectual exercise. Rather, Existence Is Futile is Revocation’s most consistently fun release, achieving immortality through the energy of thrash and the creative power of prog death. Revocation’s sophomore record isn’t immune to thrash metal’s age-old pitfalls, and the album’s weaker riffs occasionally bleed together. Even so, Existence Is Futile is the highlight of Revocation’s high-octane early career.

#2. The Outer Ones (2018). Yes, if you want a party anthem, don’t look here. But fun takes many forms, and The Outer Ones’ narrative prowess stands out. The album’s Lovecraft-inspired tales and Revocation’s best-ever vocal performance hold each track together. The instruments follow suit. The riffs achieve an unholy blend of melodic weirdness (“The Outer Ones”) and raw force (“Of Unworldly Origin”). The choruses rank among Revocation’s best, peaking on the underrated blackened death spectacle “Luciferous.” Dave Davidson and Dan Gargiulo’s technical wizardry arguably reaches its apex, across both unhinged riffs and soaring solos (“Blood Atonement”). Even these highlights don’t do justice to The Outer Ones’ remarkable consistency; though it takes a small dip in “Vanitas” and peters out with “A Starless Darkness,” the album is otherwise a masterclass. While The Outer Ones disappointed some of the AMG herd, some bold commenters fought back, even demanding (rightfully) that we give Kronos a paddling. While Kronos has evaded justice so far, I hope to honor this request; The Outer Ones is one of Revocation’s creative peaks.

#1. Great Is Our Sin (2016). While each of these nine albums is impressive, nearly every one has notable flaws. Great Is Our Sin is the exception. All of Revocation’s strengths coalesce here, and every moment counts. While Netherheaven is Revocation’s most brutal album, Great Is Our Sin’s heftiest cuts can shatter steel (“Altars of Sacrifice”). While Chaos of Forms leans into the bizarre, Great Is Our Sin’s stealthy escapades are even more engaging (“The Exaltation”). While Revocation’s earlier releases emphasize the rhythm section, “Monolith of Ignorance” is a gleaming monument to bass- and drum-led evolution. While Existence Is Futile embraces the fun factor, “Altars of Sacrifice” could dunk on it with both feet planted. While Revocation showcased the emotional range of a guitar, “Cleaving Giants of Ice” stands toe-to-toe through its melodic dirge for polar ice caps. These disparate elements fuse into the masterful “Communion,” whose jazzy opening, thrashy verse, crushing chorus, and enthralling solo make it a landmark in both Revocation’s career and death metal history. Put simply, when I’m in the middle of any Great Is Our Sin track, I can’t imagine listening to anything else. That’s the surest sign of excellence.

A short, sharp primer to convince the unconvinced…

Empire of the Obscene (2008)

• “Tail from the Crypt”

Existence is Futile (2009)

• “Pestilence Reigns”
• “Reanimaniac”

Chaos of Forms (2011)

• “Cradle Robber”
• “No Funeral”

Teratogenesis (2012)

“The Grip Tightens”

• “Maniacally Unleashed”

Revocation (2013)

• “Numbing Agents”
• “Fracked”

Deathless ((2014)

• “Scorched Earth Policy”
• “Witch Trials”

Great is Our Sin (2016)

• “Arbiters of the Apocalypse”
• “Cleaving Giants of Ice”

The Outer Ones (2018)

• “The Outer Ones”
• “Luciferous”

Netherheaven (2022)

• “Strange and Eternal”
• “Nihilistic Violence”

The post AMG Goes Ranking – Revocation appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Whether they “invented” it or not, Panopticon’s blend of bluegrass and black metal is distinctive in a way few superficially similar acts can match. From the very start, there was something special, and while the sound grew more refined, its core never changed—there was always an immense sense of drama, emotional intensity, and an unpretentious, honest heart that you could feel whether progenitor Austin Lunn was shrieking in fury or crooning softly.

Panopticon sits apart not only from other USBM acts, but from black metal acts in general. In many senses, the project functions as a kind of antithesis or a subversion of several unfortunate black metal stereotypes. Whereas the “trve” image of the genre is one of aggression and hatred, often to the point of edginess, Panopticon embodies something a lot closer to love, inverting the trope of isolation and darkness on its head in an overwhelming message of solidarity. The rebelliousness embodied by a particularly black metal fondness for (real or affected) devil-worship manifests instead through authentic and peaceful anarchist philosophy. “Nature worship” is delivered through environmentalism rather than religiosity. Though a solo act, there is little, if any, lyrical space devoted to navel-gazing, with the emphasis again being on common human experience, and the natural world we all share. The consistent prominence of samples provides yet another window into the spirit that lies behind every record, as they show glimpses of political fear-mongering and the dehumanization of “undesirable” groups, giving a voice to the fight for workers’ rights, environmental protection, righteous anger, and yet also, hope for the future.

And so, of all the words I associate with Panopticon, “empathy” is near the top. It’s probably the reason that I can’t get through most of these albums without crying. That incredibly human aspect to the music also makes the impact of individual albums very personal, having spoken to my fellow rankers and read their submissions, this is quite evident. Even where we align, our reasons often don’t.

Before we begin, I want to shout out Mystikus Hugebeard in particular. Were it not for him and his orb of infinite wisdom suggesting it in the first place, I would not have dragged myself out of a quiet hiatus and pulled together this piece at all. I feel privileged to be able to write this introduction, given my relative lack of seniority compared to Panopticon’s resident official reviewer, El Cuervo. I guess this shows you where keenness (and a good suggestion) can get you. I hope you’re all ready for a long and lascivious tongue-bathing of one of black metal’s most stoically and understatedly iconic artists.

The Rankings

Thus Spoke

#10. On the Subject of Mortality (2010) – Every Panopticon album has a ‘moment’ for me where I am bowled over by the heady combination of jaw-dropping musical composition and emotional intensity, i.e, a bit that makes me cry. Except for this one. I do love some of these songs in isolation (“Living Eulogy,” “To Make an Idol of Our Fear and Call it God”), but overall, there’s an intangible absence of force, a twist of a knife or sigh of despair, or heart-stopping climax, that relegates Mortality to its unfortunate position. Perhaps the lukewarm vibes are a result of Mortality’s status as a kind of compilation of past tracks initially released in splits and singles, and there’s a subconscious lack (whether on my part or Panopticon’s) of driving central purpose and weight. I hate to put any Panopticon record at the bottom of anything, but something has to be here.

#9. Collapse (2009) – While still a very cool album, Collapse leaves me oddly cold. The trajectory falters a little as it sways between the debut’s vehement rawness, a floatier, more post-black sound, and passages of Appalachian folk which would come to define later Panopticon. Sometimes, they all converge brilliantly (“The Death of Baldr and the Coming War,” “Merkstave,” “Beginning of the End”), and even when the separation is more stark (“Aptrgangr,” “Idavoll,”) the music doesn’t lack coherence, just refinement. Collapse mixes in the new with the old in a way that both evolves Panopticon’s sound and keeps things consistently unique. Its grip is, nonetheless, uneven, with highlights in “The Death…,” “Merkstave,” and “The Beginning of the End” punctuated by lesser movements. As a symptom of a developing style, this is forgivable, especially given where things went.

#8. Autumn Eternal (2015) – Look, I’m sorry; I know this is a fan favorite. I’ve just never seen what so many seem to see in Autumn Eternal when they count it among Panopticon’s best. Yes, it’s beautiful (“Pale Ghosts”) and can be epic, but so are all Panopticon albums, and relative to its sisters, Autumn Eternal’s swooping gestures and delicate caresses feel like a dilution of Panopticon traits, with much less magic than on many other outings. There’s comparatively little fire in the blazing black metal of the charges, and the melodies are simply less interesting (“Oaks Ablaze” and “A Superior Lament”). Even when the execution is—as is to be expected—superb (“Autumn Eternal,” “Pale Ghosts”), I am never as enamored as I am when I listen to other preferred Panopticon moments. This is also the record where I enjoy the folkier touches the least (except for Collapse). And though it’s far from Panopticon’s longest, Autumn Eternal almost drags.

#7. Social Disservices (2011) – Panopticon records have a habit of hitting pretty hard, but Social Disservices hits hard in a very particular way. In addition to its musical strikingness as the smoothest blend yet of atmospheric black metal, it’s also conceptually striking in the form of a brutal gut-punch at the moment you first notice what’s going on. You don’t even need to read the lyrics to experience this epiphany, just the track list. “Resident” becomes “Client,” who becomes “Subject,” and finally “Patient,” adumbrating the insidious progression of control and objectification of the individual by systems of power. As if its biting words and magnificently moving melodies (“Client,” “Patient”) weren’t enough, the distressing samples of screaming babies (“Client”) and overlapping voices of anger and despair (“Subject”) leave absolutely no escape. This effect is so powerful that it proves slightly harmful for this record’s ranking, as there is little to no peace or calm from the onslaught until “Patient”‘s closing act. But every time I do return, I remember it’s a brilliant atmo-black record, and curse my forgetfulness.

#6. Panopticon (2008). Woe to those who dismiss the debut. Powerfully intense in itself, it further blows my mind by how much of the later Panopticon is audible in it. Already so dynamic, and so emotionally and politically-charged, with Lunn’s anti-authoritarian anarchist philosophy (“Flag Burner, Torch Bearer,” “…Speaking…,” “Emma’s Song”) on full display.¹ A passionate series of epic-length, sample-splicing blackened storms, prefiguring Panopticon idiosyncrasies to come. Fluent, dynamic drumming that eschews the monotone blastbeat and gives away Lunn’s beginnings as a drummer; dramatic, triumphant rhythmic riffing;² the touch of atmosphere in resonant chords and weeping tremolos. Already, the emotional core reaches beyond the fury of the angriest moments (“I, Hedonist,” “Emma’s Song”), with “…Speaking…” delivering potent poignancy in stirring, melancholic atmoblack that builds to a fever of pathos. Yes, it needs a trim, and it’s a little rough around the edges, but as the birth of Panopticon, things could hardly have gone better.

#5. The Rime of Memory (2023) – Given the unadulterated praise I heaped upon The Rime of Memory, you’d be forgiven for assuming that this would have ended up higher. But the ridiculous calibre of this band’s discography means that from here on, all albums are at least Excellent, and this one’s being here is more a case of others’ strengths. It’s Panopticon at their most consistently beautiful in the engrossing part folk, part gaze, part blistering black metal way that no subgenre peer can match (“Cedar Skeletons,” “The Blue Against the White”). It’s a paragon of marathon-length black metal songwriting, where the immersion just doesn’t break and the musical and emotional builds and releases are earned, and affecting on a huge scale (“Winter’s Ghost,” “Cedar Skeletons,” “Enduring the Snow Drought”). Like its predecessor …And Again Into the Light, the more prominent use of cello and violin works to further pull on the heartstrings by augmenting melodies with weeping, drawling warmth and sadness. This is how you do atmoblack; or at least, this is how Panopticon is doing it currently, and it’s absolutely wonderful.

#4. Roads to the North (2014) – I consider Roads to the North to be Panopticon’s most Panopticon-sounding album of all. Unlike Autumn Eternal, which analogously distills the core musical aura and is divided into more numerous, shorter songs, Roads to the North pulls no punches in any dimension, never sacrificing the authenticity of bluegrass or the consuming force of black metal. The seamless, and emotionally stirring flow of distinct but univocal movements—especially the “Long Road” trilogy and its gorgeous final part—is nothing short of masterful. And the riffs here are fantastic (“The Echoes of a Disharmonic Evensong,” “In Silence,” “Chase the Grain”); not only vivacious and memorable but so effortlessly matching the spirit of the folk that tells the story of the record in tandem both separately, measuredly, perfectly (“Norwegian Nights”), and with clever, stirring integration (“Where Mountains Pierce the Sky,” “The Sigh of Summer”). There is precious little barring Roads to the North’s entry into my top 3; maybe with more time, it’ll end up there.

#3. Kentucky (2012). When I first heard Kentucky, I didn’t love it. This was probably a knee-jerk reaction to the tin whistle and the uptempo country vibe of the bluegrass tracks. But the characteristically stirring black metal, dramatically rent with thundering drums, gentler folk (“Black Waters,” “Kentucky”), and testimony, always took me. Soon the tin whistle’s dissonance gained a striking thrill, and the rousing, commiserating calls of “Come All Ye Coal Miners” and “Which Side are You On” claimed their rightful position as vital chapters in the tale: the moving story of the Kentucky coal mining industry that ravaged the mountains and ruined lives through abuse and corruption. Heartening, bittersweet hope (“Black Soot and Red Blood”) with uplifting scales and inexorable, battering lows. Huge drama befitting the Appalachian mountains themselves (“Killing the Giants as they Sleep”) with cascading guitar lines, and infinite atmospheres surrounding the stunned sorrow of returning to a devastated landscape. I am unfailingly moved, and can understand why this is #1 for so many, even though it isn’t mine.³

#2. The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness (2018) – Scars’ dualistic nature—so often bearing the brunt of criticism as listeners disown either part—is central to its brilliance. With Part 1 centring on the relationship between mankind and nature, Part 2 zooms in closer on the people; the macro and the micro-relations central to the creation and deepening of the Scars. The former epitomizes its focus with wilder black metal that could be favorably compared to Mare Cognitum at times, complete with some of Panopticon’s best riffs (“Blåtimen,” “Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing”) and most dramatically beautiful melodies (“Snow-Burdened Branches”).⁴ The hinted mournfulness is felt more keenly in Part 2, whose acoustic stylings lay bare the disenfranchisement and loneliness latent under the snow. Panopticon’s best bluegrass lies here, and particularly over the last few weeks I’ve frequently found myself singing most of this album to myself (“The Moss Beneath the Snow,” “Four Walls of Bone,” “A Cross Abandoned.”) A younger, more ignorant me would have scorned my genuine love for the ‘country’-ness of this. Maturing is recognizing that the love for this spectacular double album is justified.

#1. …And Again into the Light (2020). This is not just Panopticon’s best album, but one of my favorite albums of all time. The deeply personal nature is underscored by the unpublished lyrics, and the spellbinding blend of force and delicacy here is perfected. The bluegrass is supernaturally peaceful (“…And Again into the Light,” “Her Golden Laughter Echoes”), passing into black metal with the most grace of any Panopticon example. And when it melts into gaze, in “The Embers at Dawn,” it’s so softly sad it breaks my heart. The intertwining of dizzying violins amidst the tumbling percussion in an avalanche of emotion, only an emphatic crash away from syrupy atmosphere (“Dead Loons,” “Rope Burn Exist”), is a natural and simple perfection of Panopticon’s characteristically ardent style. The heaviness which peaks in devastating “Moth Eaten Soul” is matched in goosebump-inducing ability only by “The Embers At Dawn” and the triumphant close of “Know Hope.” Every track is a monolith, yet they blend into one another so seamlessly, through exquisitely-pitched pauses of ringing chords and bird calls, that I’m practically holding my breath in awe the entire time. And if the incredible music weren’t enough in its own right, the album’s thesis of hope and light for those who feel alone, overwhelmed, and in the dark strengthens it beyond an indubitably iconic status. It’s a masterpiece that even Panopticon may struggle ever to surpass.

El Cuervo

Consigned to History

#10 Panopticon – Had the Panopticon debut arrived a decade earlier, it might have been heralded as something more than it is. Though a clattering, chaotic slice of Norwegian-style black metal, its lengthy compositions and shreddy production give it an edge that many 90s bands didn’t have. But Panopticon features almost none of the qualities that would go on to define the band. This type of music will always have an old-school charm, but in the context of Austin Lunn’s entire discography, it’s an unremarkable introduction given how much his sound would change. If you desperately desire to hear more black metal, it’ll do that job but less well than many of its influences. It’s hard to conceive this record as anything other than a formative learning experience, and it’s far from essential.

#9 Collapse – Lunn’s music frequently boils with righteous, politically-charged indignation, but Collapse is his angriest work. He channels his fury through scything leads and powerful roars, not stepping off the black metal pedal for the first ten minutes of “The Death of Baldr and the Coming War.” But the abrupt side-step into twee bluegrass for the subsequent ten minutes of the record represented a tide-change in black metal, transitioning Lunn from a quasi-Norwegian into someone distinctly more American. The songwriting and melodies here are far from Panopticon’s artistic peak. Both the black metal and folksy passages are fairly rote and lack real cohesion, as one starts and the other ends without proper transitions. But it’s hard to imagine that the band would have hit the heights that it has without the progression audible on Collapse.

Assured Steps

#8 …on the Subject of Mortality – Though Panopticon is best known for its fusion of black metal with bluegrass (blackgrass?), there are also post-rock influences in the pot. These first appear on …on the Subject of Mortality, which marks the beginning of progression away from simple black metal towards subtler black metal. The engaging layers of guitars and bold melodic lines characterize this record compared with its predecessors, even if Lunn’s vocals were still in their rougher, blacker era. And though his prior work had the fire and fury you would expect of a young black metal artist, …on the Subject of Mortality features the dramatic flair that he now evidently enjoys. This partly flows from the music that’s more dynamic – switching from blackened blasting to bold shredding to shimmering walls to lilting interludes – but also an emotive shift from pure anger to a broader spectrum. …on the Subject of Mortality was a confident step towards musical maturity.

#7 The Rime of Memory – The Rime of Memory is basically a good record. Panopticon hasn’t made a record that’s any less than good for a long time. Despite my contemporaneous 3.5 score, it was the first that I wasn’t extremely enthusiastic about since discovering the band. While a number of Panopticon records are overlong, this one suffers the worst for it. I struggle to digest it in one sitting, which defeats the purpose of the art form. And while The Rime of Memory consumes you with its heavy atmosphere and measured pace, it lacks those gilding highlights to bring you to the surface of its deep ocean. The other long albums like …and Again into the Light and Roads to the North boast awesome individual moments that elevate the whole experience, whereas The Rime of Memory holds you below. Others tell me this is the perfect ‘switch-off’ album, but I like music best when it demands my attention. This doesn’t say quite enough to me.

#6 …and Again into the Light – …and Again into the Light is distinguished most by its sense of creative comfort. By 2021, in the discography, hearing a new Panopticon record is like sliding back into a pair of old slippers. You know what you’re getting, and it’s still better than most others, but it’s not the novel experience of bygone years. Its second key characteristic is its choppiness, boasting some career highlights but contrasted by filler. The eponymous opener is arguably the best in Lunn’s oeuvre, swelling from a folksy acoustic melody into a grand arrangement with sobbing strings. And “The Embers at Dawn” is mesmerizingly gorgeous, possibly the best song he’s ever written. But the core of the record around “A Snowless Winter” does little to stand apart from the strong bookends. The highs comfortably outweigh the lows, but …and Again into the Light doesn’t reach the pantheon of true greatness.

Faltering Genius

#5 Social Disservices – After …on the Subject of Mortality, which feels closer to the post-Kentucky Panopticon, Social Disservices returns to the bleak feel of Collapse. The unsettling speed, roaring vocals, and atonal strings land this record closer to ‘depressive suicidal black metal’ than anything else in the Panopticon discography (try “Resident” for a striking, nasty opening). And even where the music does strip back into quieter passages, it’s textured with upsetting samples; electronic ambience and noise rock combine into some of the most disturbing work in Lunn’s discography (“Subject” conjures deeply uncomfortable feelings). Social Disservices is distinctly monolithic, even within a discography of potent music. Where most of Lunn’s music is marked by melodic or thematic distinctiveness, this album is surprisingly one-note. Its oppressiveness makes for a harder listen than other records on this list, but it’s perfect for scratching that dreadful itch.

#4 The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness – This was the greatest surprise for me on this list. After the exemplary run from Kentucky to Autumn Eternal, I welcomed Scars with stratospheric expectations. But the stark partition between black metal and bluegrass, plainer compositions, and sheer length left me disappointed. Returning to the album years later yields something much better than I initially recognized. Make no mistake: it’s still far too long and repetitive. But if you enter with the expectation of a slower pace and simpler arrangements, then there are far worse ways to spend 118 minutes in darkness and introspection. Certainly, it does this job better than The Rime of Memory. I especially love the softer folk arrangements on Part II; without the flabbiness of Part I, Part II would reach higher on this list. I’m no country fan – given that I’m not American, less still rural – but Scars lures me into its sparse but beautiful world with simple melodies and plaintive singing.

The Sweet Spot

#3 Roads to the North – Perhaps due to my own discovery of Panopticon with this record, my perception is that this is the record that broke Panopticon into the international metal market. It’s easy to hear why: the expansive, blackened compositions and off-beat bluegrass pull fans from different places, while the fusion of these core components was more sophisticated and harmonious than on any record prior. Even if I ultimately prefer this album’s predecessor, it was Roads to the North that found Lunn finally finding true harmony between his black metal and bluegrass influences. I also love the sense of progression here. Just as Lunn himself underwent a journey described by the album’s lyrics, it first coaxes and later drags its listener through detailed arrangements that meander through a long but clearly demarcated journey. Roads to the North was the natural culmination of all that was Panopticon until 2014.

#2 Autumn Eternal – If Kentucky marked the starting point of Lunn’s changing circumstances, and Roads to the North marked a period of uncertainty and personal challenges, then Autumn Eternal marked a guarded acceptance of his new life. There’s a moody mournfulness, but it doesn’t sound resentful; there’s a sense of a man achieving comfort. Accordingly, it’s the most melodic, pretty, and immediate of his releases. It prioritizes bold melodies and hopefulness above his prior records, which are frequently distinguished by their anguish and rage. By Panopticon’s own powerful standards, it’s almost easy and enjoyable. This in itself distinguishes Autumn Eternal. But don’t be deceived by the melodies and slickness. There remain fringes of danger that bleed through the heavier tracks, rooted in the dark Minnesotan wilderness. For the casual metal listener, Autumn Eternal is likely the best Panopticon launchpad.

#1 Kentucky – Among Panopticon’s many depictions of working-class strife, it’s Kentucky’s raw, emotional discharge that leaves the strongest mark on me. Although grounded in the eponymous state’s history, perhaps this is because abuse of coal mining communities was commonplace where I’m from, too. It conjures an energy that’s unmatched in the discography. There were many American black metal bands doing the Scandinavian thing before 2012, but none sounded so grounded in America; it sounds like corn and moonshine and rural humility. And though Lunn’s songwriting may have progressed to smoother territory on subsequent releases, Kentucky finds that sweet spot between raw black metal and subtler songcraft that would later grow. The leap from Social Disservices to Kentucky is staggering, considering the mere seven months between the two releases. Although there are plenty of strong albums in Panopticon’s career, it’s Kentucky that feels like lightning in a bottle and one of the best black metal albums ever.

Mystikus Hugebeard

When discussing the sort of black metal that speaks to me, I’ve oft likened it to a blanket. A dense, tactile wall of sounds and emotion so thick that I imagine myself sinking into and wrapping myself in its embrace. In this regard, Panopticon is practically tailor-made to draw my gaze. I am helpless against that which Panopticon offers: spacious, blackened vistas of naturalist imagery painted across lengthy songs, the integration of folk music (in this case Americana, which, like the saxophone, should be a part of far more metal bands), and riffs with such genuine emotional weight behind them. Like any purveyor of black metal, I’ve been spinning Kentucky for years, with the rest of Panopticon’s discography periodically approaching from the periphery. I was eager to participate in this ranking to celebrate the release of Panopticon’s upcoming release, so that I might entrap you readers into listening to me prattle on about one of my favorite artists. And now, it’s rankin’ time!

#10: …on the Subject of Mortality (2010). While it may be at the bottom of the list, this is not a disaster of an album by any means, but it is an unmemorable one. …on the Subject of Mortality was the most experimental album of Panopticon’s early years, and sets the stage for various elements to be explored with more depth in later releases. The tone and atmosphere are all over the place, and the sampling/voice recordings are unlike anything else in the discography. This sense of experimentation would bear great fruit in the next few albums, but …on the Subject of Mortality is in this weird middle ground where the final result feels so flat. Songs feel like little more than 7-10 minutes of a vibe, as the riffs lack sufficient meat or heft. I do like the tone of “To Make an Idol of our Fear and Call it God,” but tracks like “Living Eulogy” and “Watching You” make little impression despite dozens of re-listens. Honestly, the sampled sections made the strongest impact on me, like the sounds of whips and cries in “A Message to the Missionary” or the bombastic orchestral opening to “Living in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.” I will say that it’s not so terrible as to be avoided altogether, but if you’re sufficiently familiar and fond of Panopticon’s other works, then temper your expectations.

#9: Panopticon (2008). In the broad spectrum of Panopticon’s discography, this self-titled debut holds up well enough but is plainly overshadowed by all the growth Panopticon has enjoyed over the years. I admire Panopticon’s diversity, ranging from early versions of the post-black heard in current Panopticon (“Speaking”) to standard black metal vitriol (“Archetype”) and even pseudo-Viking-metal (“The Lay of Grimnir”). It gives the earnest impression of an artist throwing some spaghetti at the wall, with enough songwriting chops to make some of it stick. For the debut of a one-man black metal act, Panopticon’s production is also blessedly solid. But it just lacks the more complex sound and interesting songwriting that Panopticon has refined over time, feeling overwrought by the end as the deluge of long songs lack a strong focus to justify the space. Panopticon is enjoyable enough, to be sure, and it’s fun to see where things began and pick up on nuggets of ideas that would later be expanded upon, but none of the songs truly compel me to return to Panopticon.

#8: Roads to the North (2014). I feel like I’m obliged to like this album more given its place as the second of a trilogy between Kentucky and Autumn Eternal (neither of which are present on this end of the list), but that relationship and inevitable comparison do the album absolutely zero favors. Roads to the North is an undeniably pretty album, being graced with crisp production and having been released after Panopticon really nailed their soundscape in Kentucky, and by virtue alone it is a pleasant journey to take. “The Long Road Pt. 3 (The Sigh of Summer)” in particular is a shimmering haze of post-y noodling that is a delightful space to inhabit. But on the whole, not unlike …on the Subject of Mortality, Roads to the North just feels forgettable, ephemeral. Its evocation of its naturalist themes feels less impactful than the stellar albums on either side of it, and besides a riff here or a folksy jaunt there, not enough material within Roads to the North compels much emotion or demands my attention. Nothing truly offends, and scant little dazzles. But it is nevertheless a beautiful-sounding album.

#7: The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness, Pt. 1 & 2 (2018). This was easily the most difficult album to rank. I absolutely adore this album on a conceptual level, as it features some of the band’s most aggressively environmental theming that ought to pair beautifully with the Panopticon soundscape. In particular, a B-Side of primarily Americana/folk music should be a slam dunk after what we’ve heard Panopticon do before, but overall, there’s a sense of wasted potential. There is a lot to enjoy throughout the two-hour Scars of Man. While the heavier A-Side isn’t the most memorable of Panopticon’s work, there are some decent moments in “Blåtimen” and “Sheep in Wolves Clothing,” and the closer “Snow Burdened Branches” genuinely might be my favorite Panopticon song. The B-Side does start strong with the beautiful, post-heavy “The Moss Beneath the Snow” and the folksy “The Wandering Ghost,” but ultimately the B-Side lacks variety and suffers from poor pacing as a result. It is very pretty Americana, as always, but it begins to feel dry and meandering by the time it ends. As a whole, Scars of Man has enough strong points (and one of Panopticon’s best songs) to not place lower, but there are a few too many cracks scattered across the surface to keep it in these lower rungs of the ranking.

#6: Collapse (2009). And now we’ve hit the first album in the ranking where I can say that I just like it with practically zero qualifiers. Panopticon’s sophomore album is less dynamic and far blunter than what came directly before and after it, but it finds a singular and engaging focus on sustained aggression across its few, lengthy tracks. The use of sampling and voice recordings is also tastefully done, jamming most of it in the beginning of “The Death of Baldr and the Coming War,” with a cacophony of politically charged adverts about the Bush administration leading right into some filthy black metal. Indeed, Collapse is a particularly nasty cut of black metal within Panopticon’s discography, not quite yet striking the balance between light and dark tangible in latter-Panopticon. Funnily enough Collapse is also the first time we hear some good ol’ Americana, which is always welcome! The raw, nastier emotional tone of Collapse would be explored with a little more richness in Social Disservices two years later, but I really like the blunt nature of Collapse and its oppressive, absolute sonic discord. Even with only four long tracks that don’t cover all that much ground, Collapse does a hell of a lot with what it has, making for an impactful and enjoyable album.

#5: …and Again into the Light (2021). I’ve poked and prodded at this list ad nauseum, and now that I’m gazing at it from a bird’s-eye view, it genuinely blows my mind that this album ranks only at #5. …and Again into the Light is an absolute beast of an album. While not as suffocatingly dense as Social Disservices or Rime of Memory, in my mind I tend to classify …and Again as Panopticon’s heaviest album. This is Panopticon at their most vulnerable and exposed, as the music evokes a consistent and desperate outcry of feeling. The brutal beatdown of “Moth Eaten Soul” or the visceral climax of “Know Hope” conjure such moving heaviness that lingers across the whole album, which is made all the more powerful in its contrast with the long passages of a somber, folksy atmosphere. This heaviness in conjunction with such sweet sorrow make “Dead Loons” and “The Embers at Dawn” some of Panopticon’s best. …and Again into the Light is maturely and honestly written, a perfect window into the heart of what is so special about the music of Panopticon. The only reason it doesn’t rank higher is because the following albums appeal more to my own specific and inscrutable tastes. That an album like this is at #5 is a testament to how goddamn good Panopticon is, frankly.

#4: Social Disservices (2011). My first listen to Social Disservices was a confused one, because it stands out with its distinct theming. It’s no less emotionally intense than your usual Panopticon, but the tone paints a picture that is more urban than naturalist. Less the wintry chill and more the rough indifference of brutalist concrete, like the industrial sounding drums over buzzing guitars in “Subject.” It drips with malice, eschewing melancholy for dissonant violence in the harsh screeches of infants in “Client.” Yes, my first listen was confused, but every subsequent listen has sunk the hooks in deeper. It’s an uncompromising aural assault of heavy riffs that wouldn’t be (almost) matched until …and Again into the Light, rounded out with the usual undercurrents of beauty. Social Disservices is well-written in a way that makes the most out of this uncharacteristically sadistic atmosphere, offering barely enough room to breathe amidst the tide of brutal riffs. It’s an extremely intense and absorbing album that is unquestionably Panopticon, but a Panopticon quite unlike anything before, and mostly since.

#3: Kentucky (2012). This is basically the Panopticon record. Everything about the Panopticon sound crystallized in Kentucky, from its strong environmental theming conveyed through ancient voice recordings, the lively yet somber Americana work-songs bookending the heavy tracks, and beautiful but crushing post-black metal. Like many people, I imagine, this was my gateway to Panopticon, and it’s a wonderful album. The tragic narrative undercurrent of the injustices suffered by American coal miners is one of the most cohesive and effective narratives Panopticon has crafted. “Bodies Under the Falls” and “Black Soot and Red Blood” are dynamic epics, weaving black metal beautifully with the Americana passages, both within the tracks themselves and without. Kentucky is all just so painstakingly constructed with every element effortlessly balanced against each other. To this day, when I get a craving for Americana or bluegrass, I throw on “Come All Ye Coal Miners.” It’s at number three for me just because I’ve always felt the pacing dips a smidge through the decision to end Kentucky on the concurrent slow tracks “Black Waters” and “Kentucky,” but it’s a non-issue in the grand scheme. Kentucky is iconic, and always will be.

#2: Rime of Memory (2023). I purchased this album directly before my first trip to Austria, in December 2023. As my fiancé and I drove through the Austrian Alps from Salzburg to Zell Am See, we listened to Rime of Memory as night descended. The snowy mountainsides were streaked with shades of blackened blue as “Winter’s Ghost” traversed its steel-string crescendo, encroached upon by the jagged shadows of the pines as the guitars shift to blistering aggression; put simply, it was a fucking transcendent listening experience, and it’s given me the kind of perspective of an album that never quite leaves. Rime of Memory strikes a similarly dense emotional and sonic maximalism that I associate with Social Disservices, with the more robust folksy atmosphere of latter-Panopticon enriching the sound. Rime of Memory is a visceral and nigh-constant blizzard of noise, creating a rich and tactile atmoblack experience supported by some of the strongest material I’ve heard from Panopticon. The somber, languid acoustics that open “Winter’s Ghost,” the raking violins erupting from “Cedar Skeletons,” the crooning lead guitar melody of “Enduring the Snow Drought;” these moments, and more, of aching beauty stand like beacons of blue against the white, alighting the music with feeling. One might argue that Kentucky is the more important album, but this is the one I reach for more eagerly.

#1: Autumn Eternal (2015). This was not an easy choice to make, since Panopticon’s albums are all quite different from one another. They all occupy unique spaces, scratching a different itch with varying levels of efficacy. After agonizing over it, I realized that the unique elements that comprise Autumn Eternal just feel the most, well, right. Some of the sound’s harsher edges have been smoothed out without losing that black metal bite, creating a moving album that feels kinder, more forgiving than it’s counterparts. As a result, a stronger emphasis on melody shines through from the very first moments of “Into the North Woods.” Across Autumn Eternal, this warm melodicism becomes intoxicating, pairing like a fine wine with the album’s diverse array of songs. The riff-heavy “Oaks Ablaze,” the gorgeous escalation of “The Winds Farewell,” even the harsher “Pale Ghosts” and “Sleep to the Sound of Waves Crashing;” no matter the mood, the music radiates warmth and takes on an almost moss-like texture. As alluded to earlier, this is the end of a trilogy, but even without that context, Autumn Eternal wields finality with elegance in the sublime “The Winds Farewell.” It speaks to a powerful album that is both emotionally challenging and accessible. Autumn Eternal is the perfect blend of warm tremolos and windy acoustics, of hopeful melodies and sorrow-tinged atmosphere; it is the apotheosis of Panopticon’s songwriting in conjunction with its themes and soundscape. In other words, to my ears, this is the best version of Panopticon.

AMG Official Ranking

Possible points: 30

#10. On the Subject of Mortality (2010) -5 points

#9. Panopticon (2008) – 8 points

#8. Collapse (2009) -9 points

#7. Social Disservices (2011) – 17 points

#6. Roads to the North (2014) -18 points

#5. The Rime of Memory (2023) -19 points

#4. The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness (2018) – 20 points

#3. …And Again into the Light (2020) – 21 points

#2: Autumn Eternal (2015) – 22 points

#1. Kentucky (2012) – 26 points

The Angry Metal Discord Speaks (and for some reason we listen)

#10. The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness (2018)

#9. Panopticon (2008)

#8. Social Disservices (2011)

#7. On the Subject of Mortality (2010)

#6. Collapse (2009)

#5.Roads to the North (2014)

#4.The Rime of Memory (2023)

#3. …And Again into the Light (2020)

#2. Kentucky (2012)

#1. Autumn Eternal (2015)

Check out the below for our favourite Panopticon cuts*; as if Panopticon music can really be enjoyed fully in isolated snippets…

* I really really wanted to add “…Speaking…” from Panopticon to this playlist, but the album isn’t on any streaming platform. So I’m putting it here:

The post AMG Goes Ranking – Panopticon appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The life of the unpaid, overworked metal reviewer is not an easy one. The reviewing collective at AMG lurches from one new release to the next, errors and n00bs strewn in our wake. But what if, once in a while, the collective paused to take stock and consider the discography of those bands that shaped many a taste? What if multiple aspects of the AMG collective personality shared with the slavering masses their personal rankings of that discography, and what if the rest of the personality used a Google sheet some kind of dark magic to produce an official guide to, and an all-around definitive aggregated ranking of, that band’s entire discography? Well, if that happened, we imagine it would look something like this…

Usually, when we do something like this, it increases our street cred in the underground, but I’m dead-set on ensuring our cred goes up in flames. This is Whitechapel, the epitome of why boomer metalheads yell at young ‘uns. For a hot minute, the Nashville juggernaut was ranked among the likes of Suicide Silence, Job for a Cowboy, and Carnifex, thanks to their brutalizing and divisive attack of deathcore. Toss in some lyrics about slaughtering prostitutes in 1880s London, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for millennial Hot Topic fandom.¹ In retrospect, however, thanks to the act’s historic three-guitar attack and the iconic performances of vocalist Phil Bozeman, their whole “Cookie Monster with breakdowns” thing was a cut above the rest. I say that not just because I was a teen raised as an evangelical not allowed to listen to “This is Exile” and “Possession” (but secretly did anyway), although I’m sure that plays a very minor part.

Contrary to other long-running deathcore acts like Suicide Silence and Chelsea Grin, flexibility has been the key to Whitechapel’s longevity. Three distinct eras emerge: (1) deathcore for spooky Hot Topic frequenters (2006-2010), (2) chuggy minimalist deathcore (2012-2016),² and (3) deathcore for Phil Bozeman to unpack personal traumas (2019-2021). With that, in anticipation for the upcoming “return to roots” release Hymns to Dissonance, let’s revisit the eight albums of Whitechapel, that deathcore band you stopped listening to because geezers said deathcore was lame.

– Dear Hollow

Dear Hollow

#8. The Somatic Defilement (2007) – The influence of this album cannot be understated, but its crisis of murky grime and polished clarity – with a never-again-addressed orchestral flare – makes Whitechapel’s first official foray a confused album, nonetheless worthy of the likes of Suicide Silence and Carnifex. Punishment front and center with a murderizing theme that reflected its Jack the Ripper-inspired moniker, there’s a lot of chunky breakdowns and Phil’s absolutely vicious vocals in their fledgling stage, reflected in chunky hatred (“Fairy Fay,” “Ear to Ear”) and shining riffage that cut through the murk (“Vicer Exciser”). Plenty gained with few highlights.

#7. Our Endless War (2014) – Located smack-dab between two other albums stuck in existential crisis, Our Endless War is the pinnacle of the whole cringeworthy “the saw is the law” schtick (sorry Sodom), paired with questionable production choices and simultaneously too much and too little Meshuggah-isms. While tracks like “Let Me Burn” and “Diggs Road” kick some serious ass, the album is doomed by excessive vocal layering and unnecessary songwriting choices. While it benefits most heartily from the three-guitar attack and feels the heftiest of its era, slow bruisers (“The Saw is the Law”) feel stuck in the dense muck and more allegro offerings (“Our Endless War,” “Mono”) can’t seem to keep up.

#6. Mark of the Blade (2016) – It’s not that this one is bad, but it’s often overshadowed by the album that emerged next, as “Bring Me Home” and “Decennium” introduced clean vocals. While retaining the saw imagery and three guitars layered for maximum heft, Mark of the Blade cleans up the obscene murk for a more organic and rhythmic album that is heavy on punishment (“The Void,” “Tremors,”), surprisingly catchy and anthemic in its structure (“Elitist Ones”), and experimental enough for a human touch (“Bring Me Home”). It’s the punchiest of its era, with drummer Ben Harclerode making his last appearance on a Whitechapel album.

#5. Whitechapel (2014) – A landmark album in its own right, this self-titled effort saw Whitechapel cutting the excess from their sound into a lean, mean, killing machine. Groove shining in the spotlight, its starkness allows more freedom, as tracks can delve into more ominous atmospheres and different instrumental tricks (“Make Them Bleed,” “I, Dementia”). However, like any good Whitechapel album, the triple-pronged groove aligns wonderfully with Phil Bozeman’s most menacing performance, descending the tracks into a nadir of darkness and Meshuggah-esque ferity (“Dead Silence,” “Devoid”). A start of a new era.

#4. Kin (2021) – Everything that made The Valley so effective, but with more of the Tennessee flair and a more polished feel. Whitechapel explores the cleanly sung and the wailing guitar solos, enacting a beautiful and yearning feel that doesn’t descend into the bleakness of its predecessor but rather looks upon it as lessons learned. It maintains heaviness even if it is less feral than much of its discography – all for the sake of emotion. With more of Bozeman’s cleans contrasting with that trademark density (“Anticure,” “History is Silent,” “Orphan”), an instrumental and technical theatricality (“Without Us,” “A Bloodsoaked Symphony”), and a slightly Tool-esque edge (“Lost Boy,” “Kin”), it leaves trauma and torture in the rearview.

#3. This is Exile (2008) – As the only album more popular than The Somatic Defilement, it gets extra points for its influence – but the mania at its core has never quite been replicated. While its predecessor had enough chunky breakdowns to kill a grown elephant and This is Exile has its fair share of mindless chug (“Possession,” “Somatically Incorrect”), a palpable groove and wild technicality keeps things both grounded and utterly batshit (“Father of Lies,” “To All That Are Dead”). Yes, the back half finds itself dwelling more in hellish menace than punishment (“Death Becomes Him,” “Messiahbolical”), but for many an introduction to Bozeman’s unmistakable roar and a chaotic technicality that left Suicide Silence in the dust, it was pure deathcore nirvana.

#2. A New Era of Corruption (2010) – While not as popular as This is Exile, A New Era of Corruption is everything its predecessor was and more. Whitechapel amps the dystopian and anti-religious themes with a stunning blend of its early era colossal chunk and a good use of techy leads and dissonant swells, as tracks feel more mature, fleshed out, and purposeful (“Breeding Violence,” “End of Flesh”), the darkness of progress’ terrible cost seeping through (“The Darkest Day of Man,” “Necromechanical”), and a chunky charisma not unlike The Acacia Strain (“Reprogrammed to Hate,” “Murder Sermon”³). A New Era of Corruption was the pinnacle of Whitechapel before its self-titled reinvention.

#1. The Valley (2019) – Bozeman’s cleans in The Valley were a landmark in deathcore’s storied and bloody history, but more impressive is that Whitechapel remained remarkably deathcore – if not more devastating – in spite of them. Cutthroat brutality remained first and foremost, with shredding guitars filling every emotional crevasse (“Forgiveness is Weakness,” “Brimstone,” “Black Bear”), while clean vocals are used as moments of yearning vulnerability and hopelessness (“When a Demon Defiles a Witch,” “Hickory Creek,” “Third Depth”) and apathetic sprawls of godless wilderness reflect an existential emptiness (“We Are One,” “Doom Woods”). It’s an unflinching discussion of pain and trauma in the derelict corners of Tennessee and a vintage horror movie aesthetic that meshes surprisingly perfectly. The Valley is a balancing act of vicious and heartfelt, a monument for deathcore and -core styles in general, seeing Whitechapel’s longevity fully established. Every emotion on the spectrum is present on The Valley, an outstretched hand shrouded by the weight of doom and dread.

Alekhines Gun

For many, deathcore represents the gateway drug to heavy music, enjoyed in your youth before you mature into “real metal” proper, discarding breakdowns and angsty lyrics for reflections on the time signatures of the universe and bigger song structures. Not so, say Whitechapel. Since erupting from the ether in 2006 and dropping their first album a mere year later, this band has remained a fixture in the metal world at large, ever growing in popularity and under the disapproving eyes of genre purists everywhere. Tours opening for the likes of Cannibal Corpse and The Black Dahlia Murder while having such luminaries as Cattle Decapitation and Archspire opening for them have established them as breakdown-heaving mainstays in a world of vests and guitar solos. To celebrate their newest release, we have opted to don our Wvmps and Pvsers hats and rank their discog for your disapproval. You gosh darn elitist ones…

#8. Our Endless War – The last descent into full-on arena-bent mindless groove, Our Endless War finds Whitechapel spinning their wheels with gleeful abandon. Any sense of techy approaches or interesting guitar was stripped down, in favor of a continued distillation of simplistic grooves over Meshuggah-In-Denial tones. Buoyed by the smash hit “The Saw is The Law” – essentially the “Living on a Prayer” of deathcore – Our Endless War is bland, inoffensive, and an easy choice for the bottom of the list. It’s catchy enough – a smooth, sanded-down object of easy grooves and basic-tier breakdowns with Bozeman’s vocals drowning out the riffs as if to hide how boring they are. Tailormade for an alternate universe where heavy music is played in elevators, Our Endless War is bland, easily digestible comfort food.

#7. Mark of the Blade – Still overly polished, still easy-listening, Mark of the Blade at least flows better as an entire album rather than merely being a factory-assembled collection of grooves. Here, the first merciful signs of restlessness in the Whitechapel camp began to be felt. “Dwell in the Shadows” and “Brotherhood” broke out some swell guitar playing, which was almost entirely lacking in Our Endless War, while “Bring Me Home” finally debuted those Heckin’GoshDarn clean vocals and much more dynamic songwriting. It helps that they managed to write a second “The Saw is The Law” in “The Mark of the Blade” to keep their ability for instant catchiness on display. All in all, Mark of the Blade manages to be slightly more interesting than its predecessor, as well as be the bookend of one era for Whitechapel while ushering in the next.

#6. The Somatic Defilement – This is a fun debut ruined by some moderately whack production. Much deathcore at the time had a strange predilection for light switch-click sounding drums and guitar tones thick as plywood, and just as crunchy. The Somatic Defilement overcomes this on the strength of its songwriting. Already avoiding the dubstep style tension-build-and-release permeating breakdowns, Whitechapel emerged from the nothingness fully formed and with a set musical vision. Its youthfulness overcomes its tonal flaws, and its roughhewn edges stand as a stark contrast to what would come later.

#5. The Valley – The first major shift in the Whitechapel sound since their self-titled, The Valley sees the band putting on the closest thing they had to prog boots. Featuring oodles and stroodles of emotive (though unfairly derided as emo) clean singing, acoustic passages and honest-to-goodness ballads, the band attempt to take the listener on a musical journey rather than merely offer up a collection of violent snippets. Songs like “Third Depth” tries to mesh the disparaging sounds with mixed results, while bouncing between tracks like “Forgiveness is Weakness” and “Hickory Creek” keep the listener in a state of tonal whiplash. Not quite as consistent as what would come later, The Valley is still an interesting addition to the Whitechapel canon for its efforts, if not quite its delivery.

#4. Whitechapel – On the heels of a pair of monster successes, the self-titled dropped and announced an immediate bid for stardom. Gone were much of the techy nuances and songwriting that actually used three guitar players, opting instead for immediate savagery and accessibility. On the other hand, this newfound sense of immediacy allowed for an excellent sense of hooks, with their old flair boiled down to moments littering songs. Bouncy leads in “Section 8” and harmonized breakdowns in “Dead Silence” showed the band hadn’t forgotten to imbibe songs with flourish and flavor, a skill that would quickly fade out as they continued their ascent to bigger and basic things. Easily the best of the middle era of albums.

#3. This is Exile – The Certified Hood Classic, this album dropped and almost instantly defined what deathcore was supposed to be. A massive sounding album in both writing and by production values of the time, This Is Exile demonstrated fantastic growth in musical writing chops and performances. Solos rip and shred, breakdowns are creatively inserted and (mostly) avoid walk-in-place stereotypes, and each song comes with personality and pizzazz. Touring it for an anniversary with The Black Dahlia Murder showed that the compositions still hit just as hard today, reminding that deathcore as a genre can be intelligent and engaging.

#2. Kin – A fantastic sequel, Kin grasps the mood swung for by The Valley and usurps it in every way. “To the Wolves” assault with peak modern era violence, while the flow into softer moments and use of cleans are much more organically blended. Higher use of melodic leads and atmospheric layering’s allowed the beauty to shine with the brutality, and the closing title tracks fantastic power ballad transition into synth-laden classic rock styled soloing represents everything The Valley wanted to be. Much more enjoyable as a full body of music rather than a collection of tracks, Kin sees Whitechapel grasping their musical vision in the fullest sense, with an excellent display of vulnerability and pathos littered among trademark forehead-shattering groove.

#1. A New Era of Corruption – Criminally overlooked by fans, criminally neglected in setlist selections, A New Era of Corruption is one of the greatest records in the genre. Taking every skillset from This Is Exile and cranking it up to eleven, this album finds Whitechapel operating at a peak they have yet to return to since. All three guitarists are on full display in the compositions; the breakdowns hit harder, the leads are techier, and the production actually sounds like a full band. Flirting with borderline Nile atmospherics in “Breeding Violence” and full on cinematic flirtations in “Unnerving”, 2010 saw Whitechapel at the peak of their powers, experimenting and tinkering and constantly challenging themselves to write better, bigger, and meaner. A genuine benchmark for the sound of deathcore, listeners can only hope for an eventual return to this ruthless display of excellent musicianship marred with ear-gauge shattering blunt force trauma. If you haven’t listened to this album in a while, you owe it to yourself to give it a spin.

Iceberg

I’m a core kid at heart; it was one of my gateway drugs into metal. While Whitechapel lived on the periphery of my metal consumption for my formative years, the combination of 2019’s The Valley and the pandemic gave me the drive and time to dig into their entire catalogue. Since then I’ve always had a soft spot for the Knoxville sextet, and deathcore in general. There’s something about knuckle-dragging breakdowns, whiplash tempo shifts, and gurgly vocals that lights a fire in my icy core. And as one of AMG’s official deathcore apologists, I jumped – nay, catapulted myself – at the opportunity to ride Hollow’s rickety train to breakdown town.

#8. Mark of the Blade (2016) – Mark of the Blade marks the end of Whitechapel’s more-metal-than-deathcore era, and showcases a band running low on creative fuel. What’s put on record is the most radio-ready, sanitized version of Whitechapel, and time hasn’t been too gentle with her caresses. The proximity to Slipknot-esque nu-metal is at its most blatant, the breakdowns are toothless, and the songwriting feels like the band is spinning their saws for the third album in a row. Phil’s cleans make their first appearance in “Bring Me Home” and “Decennium,” and while they’re a harbinger of things to come, they feel sorely out of place here and don’t do much to right the ship.

#7. Our Endless War (2014) – Smack in the middle of the band’s metalcore period, OEW doesn’t feel as phoned in as Mark of the Blade, but loses some of the snarling intensity of the self-titled release. Saws are beginning to spin. Anthemic choruses are beginning to rely on the tired trope of repeating the song’s title. Breakdowns feel more at home at Knotfest than Summer Slaughter. The album has its moments, though; “Worship the Digital Age” is a bit on-the-nose but an earworm, and “Diggs Road” is a strong closer that presents one of the album’s best melodic material in its fist-raising chorus. But against what has been, and what’s to come, Our Endless War fades into the background.

#6. The Somatic Defilement (2007) – Grimy, grindy, blood-soaked, and slammy, Whitechapel’s debut showcases all the hallmarks of turn-of-the-century deathcore with the production of a greenhorn band (especially those drums). But the hunger of a young band is real; the bpm is redlined, the breakdowns are ignorant and prolific, and Phil’s vocals are at their most porcine and guttural. Tracks like “Prostatic Fluid Asphyxiation” and “Vicer Exciser” still hang with the best of them in terms of sheer stankface headbangability. While it lacks in the way of diversity, The Somatic Defilement’s charm has aged like fine hobo wine, and it steadily climbed this list the more I revisited it. In some ways this is Whitechapel at their most genuine.

#5. Whitechapel (2012) – Arguably the most transitional of all Whitechapel albums, the self-titled release sees the band with one foot in ragged deathcore roots and another in the sleek, modern production of metalcore. Tracks like “Hate Creation,” “Section 8,” and “Possibilities of an Impossible Existence” still snap necks and crush spines, but there are changes bubbling beneath. There are more breaks from the onslaught; a piano introduction here, washy acoustic guitar there, tempos dipping below breakneck speed. Overall, Whitechapel ends up being workmanlike, middle-aged deathcore, selling you exactly what it advertises.

#4. Kin (2021) – If it ain’t broke, why fix it? Whitechapel smartly took The Valley’s formula and ran with it, crafting a sequel that seamlessly moves from it’s predecessor (from a lyrical perspective – literally), while doing their best to improve on an already formidable blueprint. While Phil’s clean vocals have never sounded better, they can be too much of a good thing, with parts of the album sagging under the weight of these relaxed vocal passages (“Anticure,” “Orphan”). The bookend tracks are deserving of all-time playlist status, as is mid-album burner “To The Wolves,” but there’s a whiff of filler and a lack of brutality on Kin that keeps it from the lofty highs of The Valley. A fitting closer to a sordid tale but a solid middleweight in the band’s discography.

#3. This Is Exile (2008) – If The Somatic Defilement is the wind-up, This Is Exile is the body blow. Whitechapel burst forth in their second full-length effort – a full-throated refutation of the sophomore slump – as a true blue deathcore outfit in complete possession of their faculties. Solving the production problem of their debut makes This Is Exile a much more satisfactory listenable, and subsequently, this the best example of Whitechapel’s core sound. No envelopes are being pushed here, but the package is stuffed to the brim with quality. The one-two punch of “Father of Exile” and “This Is Exile” chug and blast their way through your brain stem, right up until they wrap their wretched mitts around your throat for the ubiquitous–if not a bit overdone here–breakdown. While “Possession” foreshadows the band’s metalcore meanderings to come, this album is so firmly cemented in early aught’s deathcore that it’s impossible to classify as anything else.

#2. A New Era of Corruption (2010) – If This Is Exile is the body blow, then A New Era of Corruption is the haymaker. ANEoC takes the deathcore template perfected on This Is Exile and pushes its brutality to new limits. The end result is an embarrassment of riches for fans of the heyday of deathcore that wields rather than relies on the breakdown. “End of Flesh” might be one of my all-time favorite Whitechapel tunes, perfectly reining in the feral instincts of earlier records while retaining their ferocity inside a clear song structure. The dissolution of the final breakdown into a distant snare drum shows an attention to detail as of yet unseen in the band’s discography. With very little fat to trim, and a tight production job that stops just short of the dreaded sheen (see the self-titled album), ANEoC is the most musically mature record Whitechapel ever put out. That is, until…

#1. The Valley (2019) – I’m not sure anyone really saw The Valley coming. Whitechapel must have, because they clearly gave shit a good shake up. Deathcore purists should stop reading here; I decree this album as nothing short of a revelation. From the dusty acoustic guitars ushering the album in and out to the much-improved clean vocals and storytelling, Whitechapel bolstered nearly every aspect of their sound. Smartly returning to his concept album roots, Phil’s deeply personal and tragic story of family gone wrong breathes new life into Whitechapel’s modus operandi and cleverly shows just how far the band has come from their razorwire days. I reserve special praise for session drummer extraordinaire Navene Koperweis, who takes an already impressive history of Whitechapel drumming and enhances it with unique, progressive instincts. The album rides the sweet spot between tension and release, with just enough old school piss ‘n vinegar marching alongside the more contemplative, wizened moments (something Kin failed to achieve). The Valley is a stunning opus from a band newly emerged from their chrysalis, a dark and wounded creature that’s transcended the deathcore label and become something wholly different.

AMG’s Official Ranking:

Possible points: 24

#8. Our Endless War (2014) 5 points

#7. The Somatic Defilement (2007) 6 points

#6. Mark of the Blade (2016) 7 points

#5. Whitechapel (2012) 13 points

#4. Kin (2021) 17 points

#3. This is Exile (2008) 18 points

#2. The Valley (2019) 20 points

#1. A New Era of Corruption (2010) 22 points

Wanna feel like a scene kid again? Check out our expert picks for your own personal sellout:

The post AMG Goes Ranking – Whitechapel appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Angry Metal Guy

For me, Opeth played a major role in my development as a metalhead, as a fan of extreme metal and prog, and, of course, as a guitar player and songwriter. And they’re probably the band aside from Iron Maiden that I have called my favorite band most frequently throughout my life. While my fandom most certainly peaked around Ghost Reveries—having seen the band at least a half dozen times between their first US show at Milwaukee Metalfest and moving to Sweden myself—they continue to play a major role in how I think about music and how I interpret the modern metal scene.

On a personal note, I have also had the privilege of getting to spend time with the band in various ways. The first Swede I ever spoke Swedish to was Peter Lindgren, though I hardly knew a word at the time. I was recommended the absolutely legendary—to the point of being a cultural joke in Sweden—Jazz på svenska by Mikael Åkerfeldt on a bus one time when we were talking about folk metal. I once explored the basement at The Rave in Milwaukee with Fredrik Åkesson (then in Arch Enemy),¹ Eric Hersemann (Gigan, ex-Hate Eternal), and my friend, the late Adam Sagan (Witherfall, White Empress, Circle II Circle, among others) on my birthday before I moved to Sweden. Since being in Sweden, I have become friends with the estimable Martin López of Soen, which I never imagined would happen.

All of this is to say that my connections to Opeth both emotionally and musically are stronger than just about any band in the world. That said, I don’t think that I have as nearly a so idiosyncratic view on Opeth as I did on Iron Maiden when I wrote the Worst to Beast posts. Unlike Iron Maiden, I was part of the metal consensus at the time that Opeth was releasing its most iconic material. I was swept away by Blackwater Park and was bummed when they announced that death metal was for losers before releasing Heritage. I have been on this rollercoaster ride in a way that I wasn’t for Maiden. And I love these guys and all the joy their music has given me over the years. Even as I’ve gotten older and more jaded about Åkerfeldt’s schtick, I can remember a time when I could say in all honesty that I could happily put their entire discography on shuffle and I wouldn’t have encountered a bad song. So, this is going to be an interesting exercise.

As usual, I have created tiers. So let’s start with…

Foregopeth

#13. Heritage (2011). “Heritage is full of great riffs and ideas, but not many very good songs,” I wrote in 2011 as I fearfully gave Heritage a 2/5—disappointing. Not only do I think I probably overrated the album, but I’m no longer afraid that people are going to think I’m just one of those people who think Opeth couldn’t write a good record without growls. So, I’ll be even franker than I was at the time: Heritage is bad. And the frustrations I have with the record are twofold. First, the thing that made Opeth sound like Opeth was the blending of different styles into through-composed tracks that felt utterly seamless. Heritage upended that—though this problem is part of why Watershed ranks as low as it does, too—and instead placed all its bets on an approach to songwriting that feels, nearly 15 years later, just as lazy (or rushed) as it did in 2011. I get this strong sense that Åkerfeldt was using keyboards as an overly expedient way to accomplish what surely took a lot of time on earlier albums; transitioning between disparate ideas that were not written to be played together initially. It’s like Åkerfeldt and Åkesson were just sitting on the studio floor picking riffs out of a hat and then saying to Per: “Yeah, so, just make up something to get us from Point A to Point B.” So while there are, as I said in the original review, excellent parts on Heritage, the whole is so much less than any individual part taken in isolation. Ultimately, Heritage is disjointed. Even if I liked individual songs or moments—I’m a sucker for that Swedish folk feel that they were going for here and have played with since—this album doesn’t stand on its own.²

#12. Sorceress (2016). One of the accusations lodged against critics of post-Watershed Opeth is that anyone who’s critical is just mad that they aren’t playing death metal anymore. While I liked Sorceress quite a bit when it was first released, this album has not aged particularly well in my ears. There are two primary reasons that it’s ended up being a letdown. First, as I pointed out at the time, the production was muddy, and when combined with the band’s “dedication to the blue note,” it ended up feeling like the most intentionally retro album that Opeth has ever released. But second, given that the album is quite angry—and given its ostensible oblique references to Åkerfeldt’s divorce, there’s an angry vibe here—Sorceress is the record where the accusation that critics don’t like it because it’s not death metal feels the most accurate. Moving away from metal makes Newpeth feel toothless at times. While Axe drops double kicks and Åkerfeldt drops Åkeriffs that seem at times reminiscent of the heavier material from Deliverance or Ghost Reveries, they just don’t usually punch through. When the band cranks up the intensity, that dog is all bark and has no bite whatsoever. With that in mind, I would probably downgrade this from very good to good, as I still enjoy it. And when these guys hit peaks—I like “Sorceress” quite a bit, but the real highlight for me is “Chrysalis”—I still enjoy this album. The songwriting is enjoyable, but it doesn’t quite carry with it those qualities that make the best Opeth records the best.

#11. Watershed (2008). Watershed marks the first time that I disliked an Opeth album. While Ghost Reveries took me time to appreciate, Watershed was a record that it has taken me nearly 15 years to come to appreciate. I want to take you back to 2006 when Opeth was on Gigantour. Ghost Reveries had been a huge breakout hit for Roadrunner and Opeth toured like crazy. A friend of mine and I had gone to see Gigantour in Milwaukee and had been given passes by then-guitarist Peter Lindgren. I asked how they were doing, and he told me that they had been touring like crazy, that the band was super tired, and that their label had been pressuring them to get into the studio directly after Gigantour was going to end. He told me that they weren’t ready at all, that they’d had only a couple weeks home, and that there was no way they were going to be able to produce something good with that kind of pressure. Watershed was a spring release in 2008, Opeth played its final show of the Ghost Reveries tour in Italy on the 18th of December, 2006. That means that the Watershed was likely finished in January of 2008,³ giving them less than a one-year turnaround after a grueling schedule in 2005 and 2006, where they played nearly 230 live dates. And I think you can hear it on Watershed.

Watershed sounds (to this day) like a record that was written and produced by a very, very tired Mikael Åkerfeldt. Peter Lindgren, unsurprisingly, left the band in May of 2007, leading to Fredrik Åkesson’s debut on this album. As well, Martin Axenrot joined on drums and despite having played in the band since 2006, had not yet caught up to Lopez’s superb groove and feel. And Watershed sounds rushed. This is the most obvious in the fact that it is loaded with uninteresting, jarring transitions—which I generously referred to as Frippism’s in my review of Sorceress, but which I never found to be as mad or well-conceived as King Crimson. Between the jarring transitions, the studio tricks,⁴ and the sense that there was just a lack of enthusiasm for death metal throughout, I never understood why Watershed is considered by some Opeth fans to be such a masterpiece. When I initially bought the album, the cover version of “Den ständiga resan” was the song I liked the most. With time, I have softened on Watershed. There are moments of greatness scattered throughout, “Porcelain Heart” was a good single—and I love the clean vocal harmonies before the classic melancholic solo and the acoustic part—and “Burden” was a cock rock song, but it was a good one. I’ve often felt that with another six or nine months to percolate, Watershed would have been a better record.

Mediopeth

#10. Deliverance (2002). It should come as no surprise that Deliverance is now understood to be an album where Opeth was riling in deep drama. Following the huge breakthrough of Blackwater Park, they were on a tight schedule and Åkerfeldt—in an act of supreme hubris—decided he was going to write not one, but two albums. And while that was a choice he could’ve made, it wasn’t a choice he had to make, especially given the kind of quick turnaround that they were on. On top of that, as the story goes, they entered the studio with essentially nothing ready to go. What transpired was an absolute nightmare of a recording session that would wound the band deeply and I have understood from what has been written in other places that it was sort of the beginning of the end of the band’s most iconic lineup.

And yet, Deliverance—while displaying some chinks in the armor for the first time in the band’s career—was still an absolutely wonderful, enjoyable success.⁵ Spawning classics like the title track—which makes fans squeal like pigs every time Opeth breaks it out—and “Master’s Apprentices,” which in retrospect feels like a preview of the style that Ghost Reveries would perfect, Deliverance was a record that reeked of greatness even when it was the result of one of the most absurd Night before the Test Cram Sessions that the world has ever seen. Being the worst of the band’s best material is a bit like playing in the Champions League,⁶ no one should doubt that you’re great. Shoutout to the clean part and the melodic solos in “By the Pain I See in Others,” I see you.

#9. In Cauda Venenum (2019). While not Oldpeth, In Cauda Venenum is a tremendous and interesting album of its own accord. Sure, in some ways, it continued the Sorceress journey toward feeling like a band out of time—lots of blues scales and that Bill Ward swing showing up throughout (“De närmast sörjande”). And yet, In Cauda Venenum is just such a thoughtful and fun record. And yes, I suppose that part of that has to do with the fact that I speak Swedish and so I was able to be charmed by the old interviews with Swedish children about God and death, but that’s reductive.⁷ The reality is that while Sorceress had a hard rock vibe to it, In Cauda Venenum felt like genuine prog; like Opeth was finally getting really good at working in the space that they had been trying to work in since 2011.⁸ Not only that, I have trouble seeing how people don’t just adore “Hjärtat vet vad handen gör” or “Minnets yta,” which find Opeth flexing muscles that I didn’t know they had. Or “Charlatan” which flexes old muscles in new, unique ways, and feels influential to the direction that The Last Will & Testament went. So, rather than feeling like a modern band making an old style of music, In Cauda Venenum oozes Opeth’s unique voice and charm—and this time, its lyrics weren’t scribbled on toilet paper between guitar takes. That sense of coherence is a feature hard to argue for when records like Watershed contain lyrics like “Do children cry / When mommy dies / And later in their lives / Will they throw their hands to the sky?” or whatever⁹—is part of what makes it such a strong record. In Cauda Venenum is a great, diverse, and thoughtful record and I think I like it more today than I did in 2019.

El Cuervo

#13. Heritage (2011). Heritage enjoys the dubious honor of being the only Opeth release that I don’t return to at all. Significant volumes of ink have been spilled on the dramatic divestment of death metal on this record, even if it also represented a natural progression onward from the remainder of their discography. Nor do I feel the need to justify my enjoyment of non-metal prog; anyone remotely familiar with my music tastes knows that 70s prog is my musical home ground. Where Heritage falls is in its fragmented songwriting and album flow. One of Opeth’s best qualities is their capacity to write music that feels seamless, even if the transitions are sometimes dramatic. But Heritage introduces variety without harmonization; songs that stand apart from each other and feel less like an album. It sounds more like a compilation of interesting but perverse musical ideas deliberately directed at fans expecting more death metal. It’s by some margin the weakest Opeth album.

#12. In Cauda Venenum (2019). I stand by the 3.0 I bestowed on In Cauda Venenum. It’s one of the most varied albums in the Opeth discography, perversely resulting in one of their least predictable albums at a late point in their career. But while the bottom entry of this ranking overspills from variety for its own sake, In Cauda Venenum offers a smart harmonization of varied sounds, tones, and instruments. Sadly, although Opeth achieve more than most across multiple long albums, this album suffers the worst for this quality as I find it tough to digest in one entire sitting. In an art form where the purpose is for the listener to experience a collection of songs in a particular order and without breaks, I struggle here. I also find it to be less memorable than other Opeth albums. Ask me to hum a tune from this one and I struggle to do so, which consigns it to this position in my ranking.

#11. Sorceress (2016). Never satisfied standing still, Sorceress sees Opeth striking out from a predecessor marked by its dedication to one particular sound (Pale Communion and 70s prog) while nonetheless remaining a natural successor. Åkerfeldt’s trademark approach to progressive rock here finds new bedfellows in blues and Swedish folk, from the fat grooves to the whimsical flutes. This forges a sound that remains unique in the band’s career, especially when presented with production that evokes the band wallowing in a muddy pool. The bubbly bass, robust drums, and bluesy guitars each rely on a warm, fuzzy tone that’s deeply indebted to (non-progressive) 70s rock, almost reaching the heady haze of stoner music. Sorceress doesn’t enjoy equal quality throughout, with clearer highlights and lowlights than most other Opeth albums, but it undoubtedly improves with repetition. And though it may not be my favorite Opeth release, I’ll be damned if it isn’t their best artwork.

#10. My Arms Your Hearse (1998). I suspect there will only be two real surprises on this ranking. The first is where I placed Blackwater Park (“Why is it not at the top you FUCKING IDIOT”). The second is where I’ve placed My Arms Your Hearse. It’s a low-key fan favorite and regarded by many as a crossing point, from Opeth in their rougher, blacker days to Opeth in their tighter, deathier days. It demonstrates the band smoothing over some of the rawer cracks from their earliest material, and compiling their core fusion of extreme metal and progressive rock into the smart, knotty compositions for which they would achieve acclaim. It’s a clear precursor to the band that would come to define progressive extreme metal. And yet it doesn’t stick with me as much as their competing material. It’s bleak and heavy – arguably their heaviest record overall – but hadn’t quite found that perfect blend of lightness to counter-balance their heaviness. It’s just shy of greatness.

#9. Morningrise (1996). While its predecessor Orchid is no stranger to long songs, Morningrise stretched this young band to its limits with expansive, progressive compositions, including the longest song in their discography: the inimitable highlight titled “Black Rose Immortal.” It’s a record with fabulous moments but most tracks become meandering and drawn-out. And despite the general trend towards softer, balanced production through Opeth’s discography, Morningrise has a thinner, reedier texture than Orchid, positioning it closer to black metal than any other Opeth release. As much as I enjoy black metal it doesn’t quite fit their aesthetic for me, even if this texture lends it a unique feel in the band’s catalog. Despite its shortcomings, I still find Morningrise an entrancing experience; the detailed compositions, lengthy songs, and cyclical leads engender a rich atmosphere that feels unlike anything else. It was also the first indicator that Opeth was a band constantly seeking development and I will always commend progression.

The post Opeth from Worst to Best: 13-9 appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The Black Dahlia Murder is a band I’ve had the honor of watching develop throughout its entire career. With its debut in 2003, an album that I think stands up much better than the chuckleheads below, the Michigan melodic death metal act has been with me for twenty years. I saw them opening for bands before anyone knew who they were, and I was buying each new release on release day. In 2024, The Black Dahlia Murder faces new challenges, moving on from the tragic loss of vocalist and scene giant Trevor Strnad and they will release Servitude on the 27th of September (that’s tomorrow, yes). So, before I unleash my Very Important Opinions™ on the world about the new full-length LP, we thought that a romp through the band’s discography seemed in order. Note that anyone who tells you that Ritual isn’t their best album is lying to you. – Angry Metal Guy

The Ranking(s)

Dr. Wvrm

#9. Unhallowed (2002). At first glance, you would be forgiven for thinking Unhallowed is by a completely different band. This album is three kids standing on each other’s shoulders and wearing a trench coat next to the other records in this catalog. But despite how far TBDM still has to go from this point, Unhallowed has its positives. Its take on 90s Gothenburg is interesting, if not always good, and it certainly doesn’t lack energy. “Elder Misanthropy” is the first entry into the pantheon of all-time TBDM jams, even if it’s a messy one. It’s a long way up from here for the boys from Michigan, but you can clearly see the seeds of what’s to come in this debut.

#8. Verminous (2020). That Verminous is the low point of modern TBDM despite being pretty good says quite a lot about the level of output this band has maintained for the last 20 years. The album maintains the reflexive phase started by Abysmal (more on that in a bit), feeling more like a down-and-dirty expansion of their ideas on Everblack at times. The execution, however, falls further down than I’d like. For a band with bangers aplenty, Verminous never finds its bonafide hit and feels stuck in first gear.

#7. Abysmal (2015). Don’t get me wrong—Abysmal features some of the strongest fretwork in TBDM’s catalog (with Ryan Knight still on board at this point, who is surprised by this?). But coming at the tail of an incredible four-album run, Abysmal’s return to hyperkinetic hooks and solos begins a third phase in the band’s catalog. Instead of pushing onward and outward from the progressive attitude of Everblack, TBDM refocuses and uses the lessons learned throughout their years of experimentation to revitalize their core sound. As a result, Abysmal feels more like a transition record between eras than anything else. In theory, it’s not doing too much differently from Deflorate, and unfortunately feels a bit stale by comparison. TBDM would find a way around the all-been-done-before feel by their next album, but with Abysmal, the retread weighs a bit heavier than you’d like.

#6. Miasma (2005). Miasma demonstrates instant growth over TBDM’s debut. If Unhallowed was a rough attempt at mid-90s melodeath, Miasma surges forward to the turn-of-the-century fusion of melodic death metal and mainstream metalcore production.¹ Though they wouldn’t stick with this sound for long, there’s so much across Miasma to like, from the cleaner production and maturing songwriting to the charisma that is now starting to bleed through every facet of the music. Strnad’s famous dual vocals really come into their own here, and the rest of the performances aren’t far behind. Though there’s still one piece of the puzzle remaining, you can see the full picture starting to resolve.

#5. Deflorate (2009). This album proved not only that TBDM wasn’t a one-album wonder, but that they also weren’t a one-trick pony. Ryan Knight joined the band from Arsis and overnight launched TBDM’s lead guitar capabilities into the stratosphere. But what looked like Nocturnal on nitro on its face sees, under the hood, Brian Eschbach’s songwriting quietly started to push the boundaries of the band’s imagination and capacity. Closer “I Will Return” veers hard left from everything to that point, touching on patient development and melodic progressions in a way that we could have only guessed TBDM was capable of (“Warborn”). It may lack the highs of some other records, but Deflorate is where TBDM started to show the depths of their abilities.

#4. Everblack (2013). Those of you who know I love TBDM know why I love TBDM,² and what I want isn’t in steady supply on Everblack. What is, however, is perhaps the pinnacle of TBDM’s exploratory songwriting and certainly the heights of Knight’s solo abilities (“Into the Everblack”). Everblack is a grower in a catalog of showers, operating in many ways like a prog death album in its attention to detail and willingness to fiddle with genre conventions. It’s also Strnad at his most diverse, leading an excellent full-ensemble performance from melodeath to straight death to black metal and back again. My personal predilection for beeg boi melojams is the only reason this isn’t placing higher on this list; on an objective quality scale, Everblack is aces.

#3. Ritual (2011). Now we’re talking. Everything up to this point had something holding it back for me, be it concept, style, or execution. Ritual is the first record on this list where any quibbles I have are so minor as to be unmentionable. Delivering on the promise of “I Will Return,” Ritual ain’t afraid to get a little weird. Off-kilter takes like “Den of the Picquerist” are exotic curios from a faraway land next to two prior records that spent 95% of their runtime turning your ass into tenderized steak. Here, a more interesting weapon of choice filters into the core proceedings of the record, with offerings like “On Stirring Seas of Salted Blood” providing the perfect chaser to the moonshine shot of “Moonlight Equilibrium.” This is the band’s most complete offering, giving you a taste of everything TBDM has dreamt up over their career, and I venture that Ritual would be one (or two!) spot(s) on this list higher… if I weren’t such a weenie.³

#2. Nightbringers (2017). But I am such a weenie.⁴ Is Nightbringers effectively Nocturnal with the world’s greatest spit shine? Sure is, and cui gives a shit? It’s got the most polished bow on it you’ll ever see. If you like riffs, and if you like hooks, and if you like them at the same time and in copious quantities, Nightbringers is all you’ll ever need. TBDM poured fifteen years of hard-won lessons and honed songcraft into revitalizing one of the most well-loved and well-regarded (by people with taste) albums in the genre. As such, it feels fresh and new and worth every second of your time, rather than like a lazy nostalgia mine. Most bands would be so lucky as to ape a classic album half as well as this, let alone have it be their own classic album. Speaking of…

#1. Nocturnal (2007). Simply put, Nocturnal is TBDM. This record is the culmination of every moment before it, to where every moment traces back. It was an instant star-maker at the time and a bonafide classic in hindsight. At the core of the band, when you strip off the years of experience and experimentation, the one constant is this sound. Like no other band, TBDM reclaimed the ’90s Swedeath buzzsaw riff and forged it anew in a bloodbath of nitro, horror-movie worship, and unfailing self-seriousness. As Nocturnal unfurls, each track seems certain to be impossible to top, only for the very next entry to do just that. Trying to pick just one Nocturnal song for a playlist (like the one below) invites an hour of “Well wait, what about…” That might not be the best reason to put an album (or two!) ahead of what is an unquestionably more well-rounded entry in Ritual, but it’s certainly the best reason to consider it among your favorite albums more than fifteen years later.

Dolphin Murderer

I don’t typically consider myself a fan of melodeath at large. But select acts that rest on what I would consider the more intense and/or techy side, Intestine Baalism, Arsis, Quo Vadis, Neuraxis, Anata, really grease my grumpy gears. And, among those, naturally, rests the oft-imitated, not quite-matched American giant The Black Dahlia Murder. I didn’t explore their catalog as they were first coming to light as I wasn’t allowed to. You see, I fancied myself a metalhead and all the -core kiddies liked bad music like Darkest Hour, All That Remains, Trivium, and The Black Dahlia Murder. So it took until sometime in my early 20s, sometime around Ritual, to even consider hitting this hallowed act. All because a cute girl with a forked tongue happened to be in my college public speaking class and wearing a sick The Black Dahlia Murder tee. Turns out she wasn’t into dudes. But I lucked into a different partner out of it all, one with sick riffs and vocal prowess that causes newcomers to think that these Michigan boys have two vocalists.

Riff in peace, Trevor.

#9. Unhallowed (2002). Armed equally with the weight of Carcass low-end harmonies and At the Gates Björriffs, TBDM hit the ground running with a gluttonous, thrash-loaded, melodeath pittin’ spree. This debut Unhallowed couldn’t have been more emblematic of the consistency that TBDM would embody throughout their career. As the start of a sound that would become part of the heavy metal dialogue, it’s really almost there in terms of quality. Strnad may not sound as comfortable in his shriek ‘em high and rattle ‘em low vocal attack, but with riffs as nasty as the latchkey turndown of “Closed Casket Reqiuem” and “Hymn for the Wretched,” he doesn’t always need to be the focus.

#8. Verminous (2020). Despite this release being the most recent of the bunch, it is also the one I recalled the least going into this ranking. When Verminous came to be it landed on my ears as a disappointment, though not necessarily a bad record. Frankly, I don’t think TBDM is capable of that. However, Verminous takes risks that other albums haven’t taken, like turning the classical lower-tuned harmonic riffs and scooping them closer to true thrash tones. Simultaneously, this allows stringslinger Brandon Ellis’ treble-focused leads to play about in a fashion that tiptoes the line between power metal cheese and melodeath flamboyance (“Godlessly,” “Removal of the Oaken Stake”). Couple that with Strnad essentially rapping at a couple of points (primarily in the percussive bounce of “How Very Dead”), and you’ve got a solid album after all with a few new wrinkles.

#7. Abysmal (2015). Similarly to Verminous, Abysmal crawls about specific production choices that highlight lead guitarist Ryan Knight’s neoclassical, virtuosic warbling. Namely, it’s louder and thrashier. While the album that came before it, Everblack, never wanted for more shred, its rhythm-focused drive—a more death metal-focused TBDM stance—did not allow sonic space for Abysmal’s inclusion of additional instruments like cellos and violins to have a place amongst the assault. Furthermore, with the increased focus on Knight’s playful prowess, each song includes easy-to-recognize marks of differentiation, whether it be a snappy intro (“Receipt,” “Abysmal”), a wicked solo (every song), or a Strnad-led crusher (“Re-Faced,” “The Advent”). It’s hard to get too much of Knight, Strnad, or TBDM when they’re this fun and tight.

#6. Everblack (2013). If you’re approximately my age, then certainly you’ve heard cries of TBDM ”not being metal” or “being metalcore.” Did you know that Metal Archives doesn’t even list metalcore as a past iteration of their sound?⁵ Well, if nothing to this point had convinced you, then Everblack would be the one to listen to. Listen, I’m not going to sit here and say you should like TBDM, but with Morbid Angel riffs crushing through slower-than-blast pace numbers (“Into the Everblack,” “Phantom Limb Masturbation”), bass rattle that won’t quick, and Ryan Knight still doing that “is he Yngwie or Greg Howe” shred to fusion-y blues thing, Everblack gives plenty of reasons why you TBDM is a death metal act first. Though the album starts a touch slow and runs long for an experience that subsists almost solely on riffs, it’s very hard to say that anything should go away. Just carve a little more time if you’re gonna jam this one.

#5. Deflorate (2009). Representing the ultimate crystallization of the TBDM sound to this point in their history, Deflorate is an absolutely consistent experience. In different hands, hands that have trouble crafting good songs, that might be an issue. But sticking true to the TBDM formula of harmonic overload, At the Gates / early-Carcass riffs, and Strnad giving a performance that no vocalist could match in this lane, Deflorate is also an easy-to-enjoy success. Notably, this is Ryan Knight’s first appearance (fresh from a stint with melotech legends in their own right, Arsis) at the helm of lead shred duties, which allows Deflorate to have a quality of guitar heroism that no album prior quite had. That’s not to say that past leadwork was subpar by any stretch, but when you hear the elegance of play on tracks like “Necropolis” or “Christ Deformed” against any of the solo breaks that came before them, it’s a whole different ball game. Ryan Knight kills it and keeps Deflorate from being just another riff-rippin’ TBDM album.

#4. Miasma (2005). From a very base stance, Miasma isn’t all too different in attack from the debut. But having already done it once at full-length, and even more on the road, TBDM took huge steps in the polish and tightening of their identity. In particular, the man, the myth, the legend Trevor Strnad steps into his role as the intensifier of already heavy-handed riffs with rolled snarls, bestial lows, and off-the-rails shriek sermons. From the lift-off of “Flies” to the narrative froth of “Dave Goes to Hollywood” to the artistic crackling of “Spite Suicide,” not a moment rings through where Strnad isn’t threatening the mic with a barely held-together glottal assault. I’ve noted on later-era albums that the acquired talents provided an extra panache to an already solid formula. Miasma, in its rawer and younger character, succeeds not through being smart and tidy but by executing TBDM’s vision of melodic death metal to the scraped limits of their abilities at the time.

#3. Nightbringers (2017). If Miasma sold the young and tattered vision that TBDM had of At the Gates riffs with campy and horror-tinged vignettes, Nightbringers sells the wiser version of it kissed by the fresh virtuosity of then-fledgling shredmeister Brandon Ellis. No riff wastes any time launching songs into chunked harmony, barked fury, and blistering solo-land. And despite the number of Björriff-forward tunes that TBDM has cranked over the years, each song here lands with its own weighty identity. Part of that is through Ellis’ neoclassically-cranked excursions that carry as much energy as any melodeath groove (“Kings of the Nightworld,” “As Good as Dead”). And, as with any TBDM outing, Strnad rips maniacally through macabre narratives with a brutal ease that possesses a memorability all its own (“Of God and Serpent, of Spectre and Snake,” “Catacomb Hecatomb” in particular). Truth be told, I’ve also spent more time with this album than any other in the TBDM catalog. When I acquired it, I was on the road more than any other time in my life, and this collection of melodeath bangers was my go-to on a sunless morning commute,⁶ where my weary eyes needed adrenaline to persevere. Nightbringers gives a dose that doesn’t quit until the last note.

#2. Nocturnal (2007). As much as I (and all the others here) have said the name At the Gates or Björriff⁷—a fate inescapable from simply the opening classic chord crush of “Everything Went Black”—it’s really the sneaking, tremolo groove Morbid Angel influence that rolls my eyes back on these hardest-hitting early TBDM numbers. This hefty American influence on the hooky and nimble Swedish sound allows monsters like “What a Horrible Night to Have a Curse” and “Of Darkness Spawned” to land with equal parts thrashy tumble and melodic sting. The addition of budding kit talent Shannon Lucas (ex-All That Remains) provides all the machine gun and tom-chattering rhythmic foundation for TBDM to excel in this realization of their early potential. Melodeath doesn’t get much more addictive than this…

#1. Ritual (2011). Well, at least melodeath doesn’t get more addictive than this until Ritual. But the craving that results from this crowning moment isn’t one of riff-indulgence, of fretboard mystery (okay, it is all of those things). Ritual has an atmosphere. The simple placement of dramatic cello lines at the onset signals a moodiness that continues through tones more bass-loaded and balanced than other efforts. I hate to praise engineer Jason Suecof for his work here as he ruined plenty of albums around this time.⁸ But everything here just works—the cut-ins to Knight’s wobbling and unpredictable axe action, the many layers of Strnad crisscrossing and connecting at group chants and shouts, the low-end weight which even propels the elevated basics d-beat ripping of “Den of the Picquerist.” Continuing to alternate between the Björriff, a churning groove, and a growing hyper-melodic attitude (“The Window”), TBDM finds more ways to hook with the same tools they’ve always had while adding subtle new elements. It’s eerie to listen to “Blood in the Ink” these days, though. Between the added tension of discordant violin lines, further swirling string accompaniment, and its all too real theme of ritual suicide, the foreboding closer is easily one of the best songs The Black Dahlia Murder ever penned. Ritual fades away in the closing echo of “Suicide is the only way out.” And it hurts. It hurt then because that kind of mental trap exists, and it hurts now because art and reality often reflect each other in the scariest and worst of ways. That intersection can breed great art though, and Ritual will live that truth so long as metalheads have ears.

Angry Metal Guy Staff Ranking

We’ve once again used our tallying magic to use a complex point system based on submitted rankings. Thank you to the staff who could offer opinions without words. You are treasured and valuable.⁹

1. Verminous (2020)
2. Unhallowed (2003)
3. Abysmal (2015)
4. Everblack (2013)
5. Deflorate (2009)
6. Miasma (2005)
7. Nightbringers (2017)
8. Ritual (2011)
9. Nocturnal (2007)

Angry Metal Discord Pile o’ Entitled Opinions

We did the same thing for our Discord users. They smell funny, but wouldn’t you know it, they like The Black Dahlia Murder too! Hopefully, you don’t agree more with this bunch though…

1. Verminous (2020)
2. Unhallowed (2003)
3. Miasma (2005)
4. Deflorate (2009)
5. Abysmal (2015)
6. Nightbringers (2017)
7. Ritual (2011)
8. Nocturnal (2007)
9. Everblack (2013)

And what would this all be without a staff-curated playlist to accompany the celebra¬tion? Get to know The Black Dahlia Murder before their upcoming release Servitude, out September 27th, 2024 on Metal Blade Records.

The post AMG Goes Ranking – The Black Dahlia Murder appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The life of the unpaid, overworked metal reviewer is not an easy one. The reviewing collective at AMG lurches from one new release to the next, errors and n00bs strewn in our wake. But what if, once in a while, the collective paused to take stock and consider the discography of those bands that shaped many a taste? What if multiple aspects of the AMG collective personality shared with the slavering masses their personal rankings of that discography, and what if the rest of the personality used a Google sheet some kind of dark magic to produce an official guide to, and an all-around definitive aggregated ranking of, that band’s entire discography? Well, if that happened, we imagine it would look something like this…

The last time I went a’rankin’, it was for the impressive catalogue of disgustingly heavy and distinctly American, doomy death metal purveyors Incantation. We now turn our attention across The Pond to another legendary death doom band—heavy emphasis on the doom this time—that has existed almost exactly as long and has an equally impressive body of work to nitpick: My Dying Bride. Though both bands play “slower than usual death metal,” as the Brits in question have described it, in many ways their sounds couldn’t be more different. Far from grimy, My Dying Bride are romantics at heart. They’re the suave gentleman who shows up randomly at wakes, sidles up to the newly widowed and hits on them with macabre poetry like Gomez Addams wooing Morticia. Yes, they play death doom, but their gothic flourishes of piano and violin are elegantly crystalline. And as idiosyncratic as their music is, nothing distinguishes the band more than the unmistakable plaintive crooning of Aaron Stainthorpe.

If one were to name the top five most important doom metal bands of all time, they’d risk poser exposure by omitting these gloomy goths. Formed way back in 1990 by Calvin Robertshaw, Stainthorpe, Andrew Craighan and Rick Miah, My Dying Bride has since cycled through no fewer than 23 members across 34 years and 13 albums. Of the original lineup, Stainthorp and Craighan steadfastly keep the band alive and the bride in a perpetual state of near expiration. April 19th will see the release of their 14th LP, which I will be reviewing in the unfillable shoes of my beloved ranking partner and MDB superfan Grymm, but first, let’s revisit the last 13.

– Cherd

The Ranking

Cherd

#13: 34.788…Complete (1998) – I’ve noticed a fair bit of revisionist history around the metal interwebs when it comes to this album. Not only do people nowadays seem to give 34.788…Complete a pass, many say outright that it’s a great album that never deserved the backlash it got upon release. I’m just going to assume the folks making this declaration weren’t old enough in the late 90s to notice the slew of famous bands abandoning their winning sounds to chase trends. It’s no coincidence that My Dying Bride’s largely failed experiment was released the same year as The Smashing Pumpkins’ Adore. The vague electronics and messy softening of edges on both records bleed into each other sonically, down to Stainthorpe’s suddenly Corgan-ish vocals. And then there’s “Heroin Chic,” which was either a blatant attempt to capitalize on the rise of underground British trip-hop darlings like Massive Attack and Portishead, or a joke about them that failed to land. Thankfully, there’s material here that saves it from total ignominy, like the fascinating opener “The Whore, the Cook and the Mother” and the two closing tracks.

#12: For Lies I Sire (2009) – Twenty years and 10 records in, the law of diminishing returns began to drag the band down from behind.¹ All the sounds that made them great before are still here, but their arrangement is uninspired when held up against the rest of their work. If one pretends this was the first MDB album, it holds up well enough, with “My Body, A Funeral” and “Fall With Me” standing on their own, but things begin to really drag with the tepid “Bring Me the Victory” and the record never fully recovers. Just as with Like Gods of the Sun, a major foray into new sounds was imminent, but Evinta would prove to be for hardcore fans only.

#11: Like Gods of the Sun (1996) – It’s almost inevitable after three straight innovative records that a band will begin to rest on their laurels. Nothing about fourth LP Like Gods of the Sun is bad. In fact, it starts promisingly with a sturdy front half featuring material that splits the difference between As the Flower Withers and Turn Loose the Swans. The problem is that as the album continues on, it becomes a bit of a slog. The songwriting, with the exception of the excellent “A Kiss to Remember” is a good notch or two below the band at their best. It’s clear by the time closer “For My Fallen Angel” ends that a fresh approach would do My Dying Bride some good. That fresh approach was coming. Unfortunately, it was 34.788…Complete.

#10: A Map of All Our Failures (2012) – We’ve hit that point in the ranking where a bunch of good-to-almost-great albums are all knotted together, like a writhing mass of koi rising to the pond surface, greedily gasping for food you may or may not have as you step to the water’s edge. A Map of All Our Failures is a clear improvement over the preceding For Lies I Sire. The doom and gloom feel less tired on songs like “The Poorest Waltz” and “A Map of All Our Failures,” and the band has settled nicely into the “Late My Dying Bride” sound. How long they can keep cranking these out is anyone’s guess, but here we are another decade-plus on from album 11, about to see how album 14 stacks up.

#9: Songs of Darkness, Words of Light (2004) – Proof that My Dying Bride don’t have to fall flat when introducing a significant shift in sound, Songs of Darkness, Words of Light is the band’s foray into atmo-death doom that leans almost post-metal at times. Song structures are noticeably different from the jump, with the hypnotic pounding of drums and ominous keyboards dominating “The Wreckage of My Flesh” until finally settling into the kind of stately riff we expect from the band two and a half minutes in. There are more spoken word sections than usual here, along with long stretches of pure atmosphere, such as the bass guitar accompanied soundscape in “And My Fury Stands Ready,” but highlights like “The Wreckage…” and “Catherine Blake” make this a solid addition to My Dying Bride’s body of work.

#8: The Ghost of Orion (2020) – This is one of the most straightforward doom records of the band’s catalogue. The morose tone is understandable given the band’s personal and professional challenges that led up to the release. The decision to double-track Stainthorpe’s vocals on all cleans may seem a bit odd, but it’s an aesthetic I think works, adding drama to an already great song like “To Outlive the Gods.” Sure, the more minimalist interlude songs could be shorter or cut, but I like the unhurried quality of the album as a whole. A solid effort for a band that had just turned 30 at the time.

#7: A Line of Deathless Kings (2006) – The main accomplishment of A Line of Deathless Kings is proving that My Dying Bride can make a stock-standard My Dying Bride record and it can still be very good. You’d be forgiven for thinking this was going to be a more death-oriented chug-fest after hearing opener “To Remain Tombless,” but the most memorable songs here bring the dee-double-oh-em DOOM, with gigantically sad cuts like “L’Amour Detruit” and “Thy Raven Wings.” Lyrically this is one of the more “Hey baby, come to this cemetery often?” releases by the band, although when it comes to that, it’s all relative.

#6: The Angel and the Dark River (1995) – Surprised to see it this low? I’m well aware that general consensus says this belongs anywhere in the top two or three slots when considering My Dying Bride’s output. Look, It’s a fine album, and unique in the band’s catalogue. It has some classic MDB cuts. I just don’t love it. Partly, this has to do with Stainthorpe not only abandoning harsh vocals completely, but also adopting a kind of yelping affect to his spoken/sung delivery that would take a few albums to iron back out. Partly this has to do with the bone-dry production. Plus, it doesn’t help that the band’s first truly bad song appears here with “Two Winters Only.”² Still, “The Cry of Mankind” and “From Darkest Skies” are peak MDB, and the record is loved for a reason.

#5: As the Flower Withers (1992) – In the first blossoming of what would come to be called The Peaceville Three, Paradise Lost had already released two full lengths of a burgeoning, fundamentally British style of death doom when My Dying Bride joined their fellow Englishmen with their debut As the Flower Withers. Following close on the heels of Gothic, it was clear that My Dying Bride was cut from the same gloomy cloth, with …Flower… featuring similar crunchy death riffs and a harsh-vocals-only delivery. It still holds up as a great straightforward death doom record, with the back-to-back highlights of “Vast Choirs” and “The Return of the Beautiful” standing as the high point of the earliest Peaceville Three sound.³ The latter especially foreshadows the band’s stunning evolution that was to come, with its macabre violin and spoken word ending.

#4: Feel the Misery (2015) – I tend to really like My Dying Bride records when guitarist Andrew Craighan is the main songwriter, as the next two entries will attest to. He’s great at balancing the various sounds that make the band who they are without letting any dominate, which means there’s drama, but not supine-on-a-fainting-couch-with-wrist-to-forehead drama the band can sometimes veer into. There are great riffs and smooth transitions everywhere, and no band overview would be complete without songs like “And My Father Left Forever” and “I Almost Loved You.”

#3: The Light at the End of the World (1999) – After stretching into new sonic territory on 34.788…Complete to decidedly mixed results, The Light at the End of the World wasn’t just a righting of the ship, it was a refinement of the band’s signature sound into full maturity. While the return to form was welcome, it’s ultimately the sharp songwriting that makes this a great MDB record. Opener “She Is the Dark” sets the tone with its oscillating aggression and gloomy drama, but the meat of the album lies in the fantastic four-song stretch from the title track through “The Isis Script,” a personal favorite. After two lackluster releases, My Dying Bride were back, and their best was yet to come.

#2: Turn Loose the Swans (1993) – Elegiac. Sweeping. Intimate. Aaron Stainthorpe and company shocked the heavy music underground with a transcendent work of delicate atmosphere, forlorn clean vocals, and muscular death doom that could barely be expected after their debut. It’s amazing that such blown-open, cinematic songs could have so many corners and nooks hiding surprising sounds. Synthesized trumpets here, violin and piano there, a sudden shift in vocal delivery, and bookend tracks that featured no drums or guitar at all. Turn Loose the Swans is one classic song after another of stately melancholy, with “Your River,” “The Crown of Sympathy,” and the title track all in the conversation for greatest doom cut of the 90s.

#1: The Dreadful Hours (2001) – Every bit the musical journey that Turn Loose the Swans is, The Dreadful Hours comes out on top thanks to the superb songwriting and the fact that it contains the heaviest passages in My Dying Bride’s oeuvre. The one-two punch of the opening title track and “The Raven and the Rose” represent all the best aspects of the band’s gothic death metal, with echoing atmospherics, regal riffing, and Stainthorpe’s most vulnerable cleans and accomplished death growls in turn. From there the album settles into one emotional gut punch after another, each distinct enough that the 70-minute runtime passes without tedium, before culminating in a re-recording of the band’s debut record standout “The Return of the Beautiful.” There are those who consider this redundant, but I see it as proof that the band themselves sensed this one was special and required a symbolic act of consummation.

Grymm

As an impressionable teenager in the 90s, there were a lot of bands that pushed boundaries and carved paths that many would follow throughout the decades. Many have come and gone, drastically changed genres, or have gotten worse over the years. However, very few have not only followed their own downtrodden drumbeat, but resonated as loudly or deeply with yours truly as British doomsayers My Dying Bride. No one could encapsulate the varying degrees of sadness, whether that sadness is vigilant, bitter, triumphant, seductive, or just outright horny, quite like the Halifax sextet. Halfway into their fourth decade as a band, and with their newest, A Mortal Binding, just around the corner, today’s a great day to rank their discography.

#13. 34.788%… Complete (1998). This shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, but the reason it’s here may surprise some of you. First off, remix albums featuring only one band member don’t really count,⁴ and second, while it’s the least My Dying Bridey of My Dying Bride albums, it’s not that which puts it at the bottom. No, 34.788%… suffered from an extreme editing problem. A lot of these songs could punch harder if they’re trimmed a tad, like shaving the droning bit in “The Whore, the Cook and the Mother” by a minute or two, reducing the repetition in “Base Level Erotica” by a bit, and editing out eight minutes and four seconds of “Heroin Chic.” Those things would have made the album more palatable, not the sudden (and admittedly brave) about-face. As it stood, guitarist Calvin Robertshaw would quit the band immediately afterward, and MDB came dangerously close to disbanding.

#12. For Lies I Sire (2009). Ah yes, the album which trumpeted the return of the beautiful violins into the band’s repertoire. I remember that revelation being a big deal at the time, and I was looking forward to hearing them again. Sadly, those violins are the only thing memorable about For Lies I Sire, as other than the powerful opener “My Body, A Funeral” and immediate follow-up “Fall With Me,” it’s difficult to recall much of the album if I’m being pressed to name a moment besides those mentioned. While not terrible, it did suffer from being a bit too interchangeable within itself and the later-mid period releases.

#11. A Line of Deathless Kings (2006). Another album that suffered from a bit too much of running-in-place in terms of songwriting, A Line of Deathless Kings props itself up a little by containing quite a few bangers. “To Remain Tombless” is one of the best openers that My Dying Bride penned, which is no small feat considering that the ‘Bride are known for strong opening tracks. “Deeper Down” could get a good pit going, and “Thy Raven Wings” is a hell of a somber, powerful song featuring some of Aaron Stainthorpe’s best performances. It’s just all pulled deeper down by repetitive songwriting (“One of Beauty’s Daughters”) and the need for better overall flow (“The Blood, the Wine, the Tears”).

#10. The Ghost of Orion (2020). This… hurts to even talk about. To put it plainly, My Dying Bride was going through some majorly heavy shit during this time. Between one-third of the band leaving with little-to-no notice before the album’s recording,⁵ and Stainthorpe taking a step back from the band to care for his young daughter, who was struck with (and has since thankfully recovered from) cancer at the time, it’s a wonder the band was able to carry on at all. With “Your Broken Shore” and “Tired of Tears” carrying the heavy load on an album that was almost half-populated with interludes, The Ghost of Orion sounded like a band that just wanted to catch a break and recover from the most difficult of trials life threw at them.

#9. Like Gods of the Sun (1996). Easily the most accessible album in all of MDB’s historic career, it would also be the last to feature the band’s classic line-up before both drummer Rick Miah and keyboardist/violinist Martin Powell would jump ship. While a notable step down from their previous album, The Angel and the Dark River, tracks like the opening title track, “A Kiss to Remember” and “For You” demonstrated that MDB could hang with the best of them, with “For My Fallen Angel” remaining a classic closer in MDB’s catalog. But mediocre choruses like those in “Grace Unhearing” and weaker songwriting like in “Here in the Throat” and “It Will Come” dragged the album down considerably.

#8. A Map of All Our Failures (2012). When it first came out, I remember hearing A Map of All Our Failures all the way through twice, and never listening to it again due to being so bored by it. Over a decade later, I reapproached the album with fresh ears, and warmed up to it tremendously. Sure, while it sounded almost too similar to some of their most recent previous albums at that point, you can’t deny the emotional power of tracks like opener “Kneel till Doomsday,” closer “Abandoned as Christ,” and the ever-mournful “Like a Perpetual Funeral.” A gut-punch of an album that only shows itself over time and repeated listens.

#7. As The Flower Withers (1992). Of the three albums that would make up the genesis of “The Peaceville Three,”⁶ As the Flower Withers was hands-down the most outside-the-box debut. Slowing things down to an absolute crawl for most of the album, and featuring a session violinist in later bandmate Martin Powell, the Flower possessed some daring riff work (“The Forever People,” “Sear Me”), weepy melodies (“The Bitterness and the Bereavement”, the epic “Return of the Beautiful”), and a young Aaron Stainthorpe howling, lamenting, and growling like a wounded lover scorned (all of it). The only thing keeping this album from scoring higher would be the odd flow within the songs themselves, but there’s no denying the youthful exuberance or creative energy given off here.

#6. The Light at the End of the World (1999). My Dying Bride’s sixth album almost didn’t happen. With 34.788%… Complete alienating their fanbase and half of the original line-up gone at this point, it was up to guitarist Andrew Craighan to pick up the pieces, and The Light at the End of the World saw an angrier, darker, and hungrier My Dying Bride than we witnessed over the last three albums. A return to the band’s classic logo also saw a return of Stainthorpe’s growls, and he hadn’t sounded more menacing as he does on opener “She is the Dark” or follow-up “Edenbeast.” Calvin Robertshaw would reappear to close out the album on the third and final chapter of the “Sear Me” trilogy, almost capping off a fantastic return to their death/doom roots, and an underrated gem in their discography.

#5. The Dreadful Hours (2001). With (then-) new guitarist Hamish Glencross in tow, The Dreadful Hours would see the band dipping their toes into more progressive waters, while still retaining their trademark death/doom origins, with (mostly) impressive results. The self-titled opener remains, to this day, one of the most miserable openers the band has ever penned, with Glencross and Craighan trading off somber melodies and hefty riffs, and Stainthorpe sounding absolutely downtrodden and broken on the mic. “The Raven and the Rose” is a fantastic follow-up, with more ferocious riffing, and tremendous twin guitar melodies intertwined. Elsewhere, “My Hope, the Destroyer” would be a live staple for years to come. With the exception of the unnecessary remake of “Return of the Beautiful” (here called “Return to the Beautiful”), The Dreadful Hours would continue to bring MDB back from the brink of dissolution.

#4. Songs of Darkness, Words of Light (2004). Easily my favorite of their mid-period, Songs of Darkness, Words of Light saw the band truly gel in the songwriting department, especially between the riff and melody work of Craighan and Glencross. Between the somber atmosphere in opener “The Wreckage of My Flesh,” the fury in “Catherine Blake,” or the almost-aching delicate crooning over heaving riffs in “The Blue Lotus,” Songs of Darkness remains to this day my absolute go-to album from the Glencross years, and a banger of an album.

#3. Feel the Misery (2015). I was saddened and shocked in 2014 when word got out that Hamish Glencross was fired from My Dying Bride. However, when news that his replacement would be none other than co-founder Calvin Robertshaw, I approached their follow-up to A Map of All Our Failures with some trepidation. Feel the Misery was like a warm “Welcome Back!” from a dear, old friend, as all the elements that made My Dying Bride great were present and accounted for. Mournful melodies, dreary vocals, and a sad, wretched atmosphere elevated late-career classics like “And My Father Left Forever,” the beautiful “I Almost Loved You,” and the catchy title track. Granted, it would be the final album to feature Robertshaw or drummer Shaun Taylor-Steels, but it was great while it lasted.

#2. The Angel and the Dark River (1995). The impact this album would have on my musical tastes and love for doom metal can’t be understated. When this album first came out, I simply wasn’t prepared for the level of misery, heft, creativity, or beauty that The Angel and the Dark River contained. Between the somber elegance of “A Black Voyage,” the emotional heft of “Two Winters Only,” or the creative genius and masterful songwriting found in the epic opener, “The Cry of Mankind,” The Angel and the Dark River remains one of my all-time desert island albums, and must be experienced by anyone even remotely in love with doom metal or gothic music.

#1. Turn Loose the Swans (1993). I go back and forth between the top two albums in terms of what I classify as the very best of My Dying Bride’s discography. While The Angel and the Dark River has “The Cry of Mankind,” easily the best and greatest song My Dying Bride has ever penned and a cornerstone in gothic doom metal, Turn Loose the Swans pushed more envelopes and felt like a whole package overall. From the beautiful opener in “Sear Me MCMXCIII,” the sweeping epics “Your River” and “Crown of Sympathy,” to the somber and reflective closer, “Black God,” Turn Loose the Swans felt complete. It sounded like no other words needed to be said, no other notes had to be added or taken away, or any embellishments to be thrown in. There’s a reason why so many people have so many incredible memories of this classic (myself included), and that’s why Turn Loose the Swans deserves the top spot.

AMG’s Official Ranking:

Possible points: 26

#13: 34.788…Complete (1998) 2 points

#12. For Lies I Sire (2009) 4 points

#11. Like Gods of the Sun (1996) 8 points

#8. (tied) A Map of All Our Failures (2012) 10 points

#8. (tied) The Ghost of Orion (2020) 10 points

#8. (tied) A Line of Deathless Kings (2006) 10 points

#7. Songs of Darkness, Words of Light (2004) 15 points

#6. As the Flower Withers (1992) 16 points

#5. The Light at the End of the World (1999) 19 points

#4. The Angel and the Dark River (1995) 20 points

#3. Feel the Misery (2015) 21 points

#2. The Dreadful Hours (2001) 22 points

#1. Turn Loose the Swans (1993) 25 points

Please enjoy this complimentary playlist for the My Dying Bride beginner, featuring a pair of songs from each of their full-lengths, chosen with lots of love and just a little bit of lechery by Cherd and Grymm.

The post AMG Goes Ranking – My Dying Bride appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

If you’re a regular around these parts, you might have seen this article’s title and thought to yourself: how the hell could something like this come from the fortress of snobbery that is AMG? You might have then seen the author of said article and thought to yourself: Oh, THAT’S how. My involvement in this endeavor might be a given for those who know my musical diet, but should there really be any surprise that I managed to wrangle two extra participants through mild coercion and weaponized nostalgia? For a certain generation of metal fans, whether they loved or hated them, DragonForce was a big deal. Thanks to the popularity of “Through the Fire and Flames” in the then-phenomenon that was Guitar Hero, guitarists Herman Li and Sam Totman were practically household names. For me, DragonForce was so much more than a one-hit-wonder. Inhuman Rampage (which I discovered months before “Through the Fire and Flames” debuted in Guitar Hero 3, thank you very much) marked my very first exposure to power metal, an instant obsession that blew open the gates to the underground in pursuit of more music that could make me feel like that. It is by no means hyperbolic to state that without DragonForce, I might have never had enough interest to write about metal music at all.

My initial obsession waned, along with my interest in metal in general, as I moved on to college life. When I emerged four years later, I found myself with a revitalized passion for metal, which led me to apply at my favorite metal blog, but it took a while for that ol’ love for DragonForce to re-emerge. The band had long since parted ways with original singer ZP Theart, and their new material with Marc Hudson on mic duties lacked that undiluted rush of sugar bomb pyromania. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I delved into the Hudson era in earnest. Blame it on many of my musical pretenses falling away with age, but by god, DragonForce can still kill it when they really set their minds to it. They never have (and likely never will) recapture the thrills of their “glory” days, but a desire to highlight that disparity was not what prompted this ranking. Rather, it’s to shine a light on how the majority of DragonForce’s modern material is still really, truly good, and deserving of wider discussion than most fans and critics have afforded them in the last decade.

In short: With the impending landfall of their ninth LP Warp Speed Warriors, I’m here to report that rumors of DragonForce’s death have been greatly exaggerated. The fire still burns, proud and so glorious. Their soul and their spirit will go on, for all of eternity.

– Eldritch Elitist

Eldritch Elitist

#8. Extreme Power Metal (2019). I was more optimistic for Extreme Power Metal than I’d been for any DragonForce album since The Power Within. “Highway to Oblivion” was an excellent lead single that heralded the return of the dynamic songwriting and production panache that defined records like Ultra Beatdown. Turns out, this was just the result of DragonForce putting their best foot forward. “Troopers of the Stars” is a blast as a one-off novelty, and “Strangers” is a neat little slice of glam-power metal in the vein of Power Quest, but for me, the fun stops there. “In a Skyforged Dream” is DragonForce at their most phoned-in, “The Last Dragonborn” aims for bombast yet ultimately bores, and “Razorblade Meltdown” kills its momentum with a shockingly weak chorus melody. Extreme Power Metal’s choruses are disappointing in general, really, a chronic condition of their Marc Hudson era that comes to a head with this record. I’ll give credit where it’s due to DragonForce’s other albums, but for me, this one is strictly fodder for playlist harvesting.

#7. Maximum Overload (2014). The first half of Maximum Overload is the best A-side of DragonForce’s Marc Hudson era. “The Game” in particular is an experiment in modern melodeath that I’ve always felt worked brilliantly for the band, but “Tomorrow’s Kings” thrills as a driving force of no-frills power metal, and “Symphony of the Night” excels through a blistering, neo-baroque homage to Castlevania. Yet aside from the thrash-coded fun of “Defenders,” Maximum Overload’s back half disappoints. “The Sun is Dead” and “Extraction Zone” have great instrumentals yet totally uninspired vocal execution, “City of Gold” is a thoroughly lame closer, and the cover of Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” is a half-baked realization of its full potential. At final tabulation, Maximum Overload is still a record of mostly great material, but its whiffs signposted the end of DragonForce albums featuring wall-to-wall quality.

#6. Reaching Into Infinity (2017). I was pretty harsh on Reaching Into Infinity upon release. I immediately felt that it failed to match the peaks of Maximum Overload, and for me, DragonForce just didn’t sound much like DragonForce anymore. Seven years on, I’ve come to the revelation that the distinct non-DragonForce-ness of Reaching Into Infinity makes it fresh. It’s still fast, furious fun, without overtly trying to ape the band’s fan-favorite material, the sole exception being the fantastic “Midnight Madness” in all its Sonic Firestorming goodness. The record’s sporadic experimental swings don’t always hit paydirt, as both “Silence” and “The Edge of the World” are divisive momentum killers, but the pure thrash thrills of “War!” and the Running Wild-on-stimulants rush of “Hatred and Revenge” proves that DragonForce can still find great success through large departures. Out of the band’s post The Power Within material, this is the album I’ve returned to the most, and I’d bump my review score up by a full point if I were to review it today.

#5. The Power Within (2012). “It is with great regret that DragonForce announce a parting of the ways with singer ZP Theart […] due to insurmountable differences of musical opinion.” These words hit seventeen-year-old Eldritch like a freight train. A foundational pillar of my musical tastes was now down one of power metal’s greatest vocalists, their musical direction uncertain. Enter Marc Hudson and The Power Within, something of a departure for DragonForce that lacks none of their signature spirit. The fantastic “Wings of Liberty” is the only cut that retains the lengthy structures of DragonForce’s earlier works; the remaining tracks are lean cuts of pure power metal, forming what is easily the band’s most riff-centric album. For all the gripes I have with Marc Hudson and his nowadays paper-thin delivery, he sounded pretty great on his first go around, with his intense delivery on tracks like “Heart of the Storm” being such a great fit that I can’t imagine ZP ever having sung it. The Power Within doesn’t quite live up to the records that preceded it in terms of sheer catchiness, but it’s very nearly as good and is easily recommendable to non-fans who just want a great slab of power metal.

#4. Inhuman Rampage (2006). If you’re one of those people who think DragonForce only knows how to write one song, Inhuman Rampage is probably the reason why. You would be correct to think so based on this album alone, which is exactly what makes it essential in power metal canon. Nothing else on Earth sounds like Inhuman Rampage, and it sounds like that for its entire runtime (closing ballad notwithstanding). Inhuman Rampage’s near-constant tempo of 200 bpm, layered with countless solos and electronic flourishes, is absolutely fucking bonkers. It’s the sound of the world ending via a joyous sugar bomb of metallic hellfire, and DragonForce is laughing their asses off the whole way through. The band clearly had the time of their lives coming up with this insanity, never once considering that they might have to play “Through the Fire and Flames” every night for the rest of their lives. It’s an entirely exhausting listening experience that borders on monotony, but Inhuman Rampage is so singular that I truly believe every metal fan should hear it at least once. If it clicks with you, good luck ever putting it down.

#3. Valley of the Damned (2003). If Inhuman Rampage is your sole exposure to DragonForce, and if you have even a casual appreciation for power metal, then you should be aware that their debut is mandatory listening. Valley of the Damned’s title track is as classic of a power metal song as has ever graced the genre, and between “Valley of the Damned,” “Revelations,” and “Heart of a Dragon,” the album sports three of my all-time favorite power metal tracks. Its standing in this ranking is only dragged down by a handful of relative weak points, namely “Evening Star,” and yet there are plenty of people out there who will swear that it is one of the best DragonForce songs. The magic of Valley of the Damned is that, as a debut, it’s less streamlined than other records from the ZP Theart era, meaning there are loveable oddities like “Evening Star” or “Disciples of Babylon” that could only feel at home on this album. But make no mistake; DragonForce still sounds righteously confident with their sound on this record, coming shockingly close to realizing their full potential at the starting line.

#2. Sonic Firestorm (2004). “Fury of the Storm” is probably the second DragonForce song people know if they know anything beyond “Through the Fire and Flames,” and for good reason, as it has one of the most iconic intros and choruses in all of power metal. And yet Sonic Firestorm is so incredible that I couldn’t justify ranking it in my top five tracks from the album. In a way, this sophomore offering represents DragonForce at their purest, an early career crystallization of their signature sound that isn’t distorted by the glossy production of their later efforts. As such, its songs feel straightforward, yet brilliant. “My Spirit Will Go On” and “Soldiers of the Wasteland” deserve extra special commendations, with the former acting as one of the best album openings in its genre and also my favorite DragonForce song, period. “Prepare for War” is the only weak link here (why this song didn’t swap places with the phenomenal bonus track “Cry of the Brave” will forever elude me), but otherwise, Sonic Firestorm is a virtually untouchable power metal powerhouse.

#1. Ultra Beatdown (2008). Valley of the Damned and Sonic Firestorm may have higher peaks than the band’s final album with ZP Theart on the mic, but in terms of consistency and sheer melodic quality, nothing beats Ultra Beatdown. This record offers uplifting major key excellence from its first second to its last, so much so that even its most predictable songs (“The Fire Still Burns,” “Heartbreak Armageddon”) feel downright monumental. But what really makes Ultra Beatdown DragonForce’s finest showing is that it’s an idealized version of their sound, combining the harmonic bliss of Sonic Firestorm with a tastefully reserved take on Inhuman Rampage’s massively bombastic production. It accomplishes this while also delving into the proggiest material of the ZP Theart era (“Reasons to Live,” “The Last Journey Home”), spawning DragonForce’s best and most underrated ballad (“A Flame for Freedom”), and still finding time to deliver the two best examples of the “stereotypical” DragonForce formula (“Heroes of Our Time”, “Inside the Winter Storm”). In short, this is the DragonForce album that truly feels like the best of all worlds, a collection of universally great songs that represent everything I have ever loved about the band and then some.

Kenstrosity

DragonForce was a force to be reckoned with for young Ken. As you’d expect for young teens like me who were just getting into metal, “Through the Fire and Flames” had my jaw on the floor faster than Herman Li could complete a full chromatic scale. Needless to say, I had to hear more, and one thing led to another and suddenly I was listening to all manner of fast, shreddy, cheesy stuff. To my great surprise, much of DragonForce’s discography held up quite nicely over the years. With greater knowledge of metal at large, both historical and current, I found only a deeper appreciation of what DragonForce do and how they do it. You might expect the opposite to be true, as I did when I embarked on ranking close to nine hours of supersonic wankery. Yet, here I am, ready as ever to sing the praises of one band who helped shape my music tastes and who still informs it to this day.

THROUGH THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES WE CARRY ON!!!

The Ranking:

#8: Extreme Power Metal (2019). No album on Earth makes me miss ZP Theart’s vocals as much as Extreme Power Metal. Admirable though his efforts are, Marc Hudson just doesn’t fit this material, and somehow his voice just continues to degrade with time. On this, his falsetto sounds reedy, and his midrange nasal beyond belief. This only exacerbates my issues with an album chock full of lackluster tunes and gutless guitar showmanship (with the exceptions of the awesome “Heart Demolition” and “Razorblade Meltdown”), the two things that make DragonForce albums so much fun. Without those two core characteristics, Extreme Power Metal brings nothing to the table.

#7: Reaching into Infinity (2017). Despite the fact that I strongly dislike the way Hudson sounds on this late-stage DragonForce record, Reaching into Infinity still charms me. Unlike Extreme Power Metal, the immense hooks and the striking musicianship here more closely align with what I expect and enjoy most from the band. Killer tunes like “Ashes of the Dawn,” “Midnight Madness,” and “The Edge of the World” ensure that I do, indeed, enjoy this record back to front in the moment. Sadly, uneven songwriting (“Silence,” oof) and Hudson’s irritatingly nasal delivery don’t entice me to return down the line.

#6: Maximum Overload (2014). Maximum Overload is an interesting album. Hudson’s voice isn’t quite as buttoned down or powerful as on The Power Within, and I quickly realize that he’s no replacement for the awesome ZP Theart. Musically, Maximum Overload finds a happy medium between the straightforward power metal of The Power Within and the breakneck velocity of Inhuman Rampage. However, something’s missing here. There’s a lack of soul and passion in some of these tracks (“Tomorrow’s Kings,” “Three Hammers”) that undermine its highlights (“The Game,” “Symphony of the Night,” “The Sun is Dead,” “Extraction Zone”) such that the whole fails to live up to expectations. A band going through the motions.

#5: Ultra Beatdown (2008). DragonForce’s most explorative and experimental record, Ultra Beatdown quite simply rocks my socks, for the most part. Exploring various non-metal genres while also featuring more metallic extremity outside of the usual hyperspeed technicality, standouts like “Reasons to Live,” “Heartbreak Armageddon,” “Inside the Winter Storm,” and “Scars of Yesterday” inject a rather impressive variety of approaches to break up the band’s trademark style. An unfortunate consequence of that adventurous songwriting, for every awesome moment, there’s another that just doesn’t quite fit (“A Flame for Freedom,” “Strike of the Ninja”). Truly, that’s the only thing keeping it from a higher rank.

#4: The Power Within (2012). The first record to feature Marc Hudson instead of ZP Theart, The Power Within is immediately recognizable as an outlier in DragonForce’s discography. Still fast as fuck and rife with ample wankery, these tunes are much more direct fare. With only one song surpassing six minutes, this is also among the band’s tightest outings. Massively hooky and immensely fun, killer tunes like “Fallen World,” “Cry Thunder,” “Wings of Liberty,” “Heart of the Storm,” and “Die By the Sword” perfectly suit Hudson’s voice while still offering tons of album variety. More importantly, I keep coming back to it. It’s got its claws in me and simply won’t let go.

#3: Valley of the Damned (2003). Possessor of one of the most useless intro tracks of all time (fifteen seconds of atmospheric crescendo does not deserve its own track), DragonForce’s debut is one of those records that sounds like something a far more established, seasoned band crafts. Hyperspeed rippers like “Valley of the Damned,” “Black Winter Night,” “Black Fire,” “Disciples of Babylon” and “Heart of a Dragon” launch a project of great passion, insanely catchy lines, and a million WHOOAAHs. A wide array of tones and textures built into that supersonic wank blueprint allow these fifty-eight minutes of extreme wank to feel justified and immensely satisfying. And yet, it was only the beginning for the fledgling band!

#2: Sonic Firestorm (2004). The three-album streak between the debut and Inhuman Rampage constitutes an unstoppable hot streak of triumphant, epic, shreddy power metal. Arguably the thrashiest record of the bunch, Sonic Firestorm deftly balances the riff/solo quotient, with an obvious but largely justified bias towards solos, and brings in a tasteful amount of blasts and keys to round out the palette. With massive hits like “Fury of the Storm,” “Fields of Despair,” “Above the Winter Moonlight,” “Soldiers of the Wastelands,” and “Once in a Lifetime,” I find it hard not to be totally enamored and enraptured. And of course, ZP Theart is in fine form, soaring above everything else to deliver only the catchiest, most infectious lines and choruses. Sonic Firestorm is the classic DragonForce formula, stripped down to its purest form and delivered straight to the cranium with a meteor impact.

#1: Inhuman Rampage (2006) – Okay, I know I probably spoiled this result in my intro, but even after an exhaustive run through their discography, Inhuman Rampage still stands proudly as my favorite DragonForce record. Side-by-side comparisons to equally strong albums like Sonic Firestorm cannot dull the sharp memories I have of whiplashing my neck to “Storming the Burning Fields,” belting my little heart out to “Cry for Eternity,” and stomping my feet to “Operation Ground and Pound.” Nostalgia only holds so much sway over this result, however. Much more power belongs to the strength of this record’s immense songwriting successes, its ridiculous technicality balanced by uncanny memorability, and ZP Theart’s uniquely passionate voice. Inhuman Rampage is an unstoppable record that not only formed core memories for me as a budding metalhead who loved so much more than just the still awesome “Through the Fire and Flames,” but also remains a regular standby for my power metal fix. Lambast this decision if you must, but it matters not. I will always love this record above the rest, and nobody else can do a damn thing about it!

Dragon Whisperer

Did you expect to see me here too? Yes, I know, you don’t necessarily associate your guy Dolph with the likes of these full-lactose weenies. But you may not know that a young Dolph broke his metal concert cherry by seeing DragonForce on their first US tour for their breakout album Inhuman Rampage. And that DragonForce, along with many 00s wanky power metal acts like Galneryus, At Vance, and Rhapsody—yes, before all the name change bullshit—made up a huge chunk of my teenage musical development. I used to be cool, and I hope that through my eyes you can relive the glory days of when DragonForce was cool. You know, before Herman Li got big on Twitch¹ and then subsequently banned from there for supposedly stupid reasons. Or maybe DragonForce is still cool? Who knows. All their albums are too long, too full of solos, and histrionic as all get out. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Ranking:

#8. Reaching into Infinity (2017). Dragonforce was never not a Europower band at heart, but increasingly so in the Hudson universe, Europower presented as the default expression for chorus builds and general song flow. Tracks like “Judgement Day” and the ballad “Silence” feel like they could be any chipmunk-speed flower-power band with a little extra chirp in the extended solo runs. Only for the run from “War!” to the powerful eleven-minute opus “The Edge of the World” does DragonForce put any real effort into being their epic selves while showcasing some of the melodeath influence that makes their later era interesting. Oh, and this one has an absolutely pointless intro—no need to tack extra time onto an album that’s already too long.

#7. The Power Within (2012). As a guy who grew up with ZP being the voice of DragonForce, this first outing with Hudson was destined to present a challenge to my younger self. In the modern day, that feeling persists in the thought that many of the better tunes on this album feel like off-cuts from Ultra Beatdown with an increased 80s montage feel to many synth lines. The biggest issue with these choices is that the songs don’t feel entirely constructed around some of Hudson’s strengths, which he displays better on most later albums. For his first outing, he feels plain and safe save for the kick-in-the-teeth of “Give Me the Night” and “Seasons” and, well, the tail-end of the album… again. At least until the whiff of a closer that “Last Man Stands” offers. Such a shame that this fairly trim album lacks in impact.

#6. Extreme Power Metal (2019). This is the first album without longtime keys and weird noise maestro Vadim Pruzhanov, with Coen Janssen (Epica) providing guest arrangements, backings, and other keys sounds. In the present day, I can say this reminds me of the twinklecore that Fellowship presents on many occasions, but still DragonForce has a little more weight in tone. Please, understand, though, that this album is pretty much anything but the extreme in its own name, with a hefty, anthemic, Europe pounce striking through the sticky-sweet cuts “Heart Demolition” and “Strangers.” DragonForce plays with true restraint, and Hudson sounds great on these kinds of tracks—for better or worse—and it’s no surprise to hear that his solo work leans even into this kind of high glycemic power pop with guitar noises, frighteningly similar to Japanese Idol rock. Whatever the case, it works here, even if I don’t want to admit it out loud all the time. “My Heart Will Go On” is a good cover too.

#5. Inhuman Rampage (2006). I went through a ten-year period or so where I never wanted to hear “Through the Fire and the Flames” again, and anytime I revisited this album after its first year or so of existence, I just started at “Revolution Deathsquad,” which is a monster banger anyway. Witnessing DragonForce, of all the dorky bands I loved at the time, blow up because of Guitar Hero blew me away—still does. But with DragonForce dipping their toes into weirder guitar sounds (“Body Breakdown” in particular), more aggressive rhythm structures, and even a growl or two in the background from old friend of the band Lindsay Dawson (Demoniac), it’s hard to put Inhuman Rampage down once it gets going, especially since ZP is just about at the top of his game.

#4. Valley of the Damned (2003). For the most authentic experience in this discog run experience and ranking, I pulled up some old shitty mp3s I had of this debut outing rather than hit the remastered version on stream. You see, my first experience with DragonForce came from a seedy copy of “Black Fire” and a corrupted version of “Disciples of Babylon” from LimeWire. And wouldn’t you know, when I finally heard the full, unclipped, unsqueaking version of the latter, it grew to be one of my favorite songs from this early incarnation of hyper-speed power metal. And though those two cuts leaned a little more on the sound of Blind Guardian at the time—you could even envision ZP as a budget Hansi Kürsch with extra warbling character—the prance and play inherent in the DragonForce sound still lived free in the spirit of “Valley of the Damned,” “Black Winter Night,” and “Heart of a Dragon.” The ballad isn’t particularly enjoyable, but Valley of the Damned remains a rollicking good time in all its youth and flaws.

#3. Maximum Overload (2014). It’s very simple: Maximum Overload wears Hudson better than any of his other outings with DragonForce. True to the album’s namesake, Hudson pushes his ventures into falsetto more recklessly, and DragonForce as a band finds that smart balance of fun, video game inspires noises and forward-moving riff-work. The heft of the Gothenberg-ripped guitar tone plays well against the smattering of video game noises and resplendent choruses, and many of the song choices ring true to a more classic and warm power metal sound than this band had ever displayed before. “The Sun Is Dead” reminds me of the gritty swagger of a band like Thunderstone more than DragonForce. Couple that with bassist Fredric Leclerq’s extreme metal influences that sharpen the steel of “The Game” and “Three Hammers,” a scorching cover of “Ring of Fire,” and NO BALLADS, Maximum Overload tears front to back all in under fifty minutes.

#2. Sonic Firestorm (2004) – Both a major step up in recording quality from the debut and a further diversification of attack, Sonic Firestorm hosts some of the best cuts that this discography has to offer. Yes, the continuing trend of DragonForce having overwrought ballads—very pretty piano on this one though—remains true on this piece, but its placement between the unyielding “Fields of Despair” and iconic synth warble of “Above the Winter Moonlight” ensures that this album never loses its course. Every track has bombastic intros, brain-staining choruses, dopamine-spiking solos, and sugar rush power that even twenty years removed from my first encounter still causes the flow. Yes, all of these songs are too long and have solo sections that extend well beyond what one might consider good taste, but that’s kind of the point isn’t it? And though this track has no bearing on this record’s standing, “Cry of the Brave” should have been on the album proper, damnit.

#1. Ultra Beatdown (2008). Around when Ultra Beatdown landed in the world, my love affair with DragonForce and frolicking power metal was waning in favor of things equally noodly but more progressive—I am a refined individual, after all. However, despite my own musical journey, this massive album just couldn’t let me go. No song is less than five minutes. Most are over seven. In these very halls, recently even, I’ve rallied against the over-soloization of music to diminishing effects. But every tone-exploring keys break, every hot-handed guitar squeal, every ZP led anthem, fills me with joy, with the urge to scream and air guitar and smash a keytar that I wouldn’t even know how to turn on. Context matters, and the story here is that no matter what level of excess this band poured into the making of Ultra Beatdown, it seared a near hour-long corridor in my mind built specifically for this album. “Reasons to Live,” “Heartbreak Armageddon,” “The Last Journey Home”—I could really just name all the songs including the bonus tracks “Strike of the Ninja” and “Scars of Yesterday”—represent the fullest vision of the first era of DragonForce and to this day remains their best work. And most importantly, Ultra Beatdown is one of my favorite power metal albums of all time.²

Official Ranking

The writers’ votes have been cast and counted. As the contributors to this ranking were also the only ones to have any strong feelings about DragonForce one way or the other, a poll was not conducted to obtain a tally from AMG staff. The below is an aggregate of the Rankings above. Here, to be scrawled on the sparkliest of unicorn hide with a can of Cheez Whiz, is the definitive AMG Ranking for DragonForce:

#7. Extreme Power Metal (2019), with 5 points out of a possible 24.

#6. Reaching Into Infinity (2017), with 6 points out of a possible 24.

#5. (tied) Maximum Overload (2014), with 11 points out of a possible 24.

#5. (tied) The Power Within (2012), with 11 points out of a possible 24.

#4. Valley of the Damned (2003), with 14 points out of a possible 24.

#3. Inhuman Rampage (2006), with 17 points out of a possible 24.

#2. Ultra Beatdown (2008), with 20 points out of a possible 24.

#1. Sonic Firestorm (2004), with 21 points out of a possible 24.

If you don’t know DragonForce, you’ve probably saved yourself from a considerable heap of shame and embarrassment, but it’s never too late to shamelessly indulge with this playlist assembled by Eldritch Elitist, Kenstrosity, and Dolphin Whisperer:

The post AMG Goes Ranking – DragonForce appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The life of the unpaid, overworked metal reviewer is not an easy one. The reviewing collective at AMG lurches from one new release to the next, errors and n00bs strewn in our wake. But what if, once in a while, the collective paused to take stock and consider the discography of those bands that shaped many a taste? What if multiple aspects of the AMG collective personality shared with the slavering masses their personal rankings of that discography, and what if the rest of the personality used

Long Island, New York death metal legends Suffocation need no introduction. But for the handful of poor souls ignorant to the band’s enduring power across multiple decades, I’m here to provide one anyway, as we delve into another exciting installment of AMG Goes Ranking. Suffocation emerged in the late ’80s, honing their craft in the dankest corners of the underground as death metal began to take an iron grip on the emerging extreme metal scene worldwide by the early ’90s. In a nutshell, Suffocation took the key ingredients of the early death metal sound and juiced it to the max with a new level of technical precision and raw, guttural brutality.

The original recording line-up consisted of guitarist Terrance Hobbs (the only remaining original member in the band’s current incarnation), drummer Mike Smith, vocalist Frank Mullen, guitarist Doug Cerrito, and bassist Josh Barohn. Together they unleashed 1991’s monumental Human Waste EP, pushing the death metal genre into more brutal territory than ever before, basically pioneering a subgenre now commonly played and referred to as brutal death. As Suffocation built from the raw slab of stabbing brutality that was slathered over Human Waste, on subsequent ’90s milestones, including 1991’s Effigy of the Forgotten and 1995’s Pierced from Within, they incorporated an increasingly sharp technical edge to complement their intense, spine snapping brutality and unique, instantly recognizable sound.

After going on hiatus after 1998’s Despise the Sun EP, Suffocation re-emerged on 2004’s Souls to Deny and commenced a second career phase extending to their current revamped incarnation. Regardless of obstacles, line-up shuffles and changing trends, Suffocation remained true to their core values and continued to release quality material across multiple decades. Now with their ninth album, Hymns from the Apocrypha, in the can, marking their first LP in over six years, and first ever without Mullen on vox, it comes the time to dredge back through the intimidating and uncompromising decades’ worth of Suffocation material and put our ranking skills to the ultimate test. Strap yourselves in…

Please note… After extensive, heated round table discussions, we made the decision to break from ranking tradition and include Suffocation’s EP material in the official rankings, due to their lasting significance in the broader Suffo canon.

– Saunders

Saunders

Like many a metalhead, Suffocation is a band close to my heart. After whetting my appetite for more extreme and deathly pleasures with various other legacy acts, Suffocation introduced me to the darker, more technical and relentlessly brutal throes of their signature sound. After absorbing their classic ’90s catalog I have followed their career closely since. And despite perhaps lacking the front-to-back consistency of some other legacy death metal acts, they rarely disappoint and continue to break through the barriers of wearying age and line-up shuffles…. Not to mention they are bonafide legends and pioneers of brutal, technical death metal not to be fucked with. Despite variations in quality, Suffocation don’t make shit albums, boasting a formidable canon, making for a tough gig to assemble the ultimate listing, but here goes…

The Ranking:

#10. Blood Oath (2009). I may have minor beefs with particular albums, but even lesser Suffocation offers something worthwhile, and I would argue even when not always operating at their peak, Suffocation hasn’t thrown up any worthless duds. This brings us to the lowest ranked of the Suffocation repertoire, 2009’s Blood Oath. To be honest I can’t quite put my finger on what it is I struggle with on Blood Oath. As usual, the musicianship is top-notch, and the album doesn’t find Suffocation making drastic changes or daring risks to their concrete formula. However, there is something lacking in the songwriting, and despite a warmer, improved modern production and a particularly noteworthy performance from Boyer on bass, the whole package blazes by and leaves an empty feeling. It’s by no means a bad album, and glimpses of inspired material (“Cataclysmic Purification,” “Dismal Dream,” “Come Hell or High Priest”) crop up amidst the less impactful material. Blood Oath has its moments but is otherwise inconsistent and lacks a decent, cohesive flow.

#9. …Of the Dark Light (2017). Although it made little impact on me on initial release, I have grown to enjoy …Of the Dark Light more in subsequent years. Criticisms are valid, the material is fairly stock modern Suffo and is not overly exciting or inspired. It followed the entertaining Pinnacle of Bedlam but failed to deliver the level of songwriting quality or standout tracks of its predecessor. The album sounds a little too clean and clinical, while the one-dimensional songwriting, albeit impressive in its fast, technical and brutal execution, results in a solidly enjoyable but somewhat hollow modern opus. …Of the Dark Light shines brightest on the bludgeoning title track, cyclonic punch of “Return to the Abyss,” and modernized, re-recording of “Epitaph of the Credulous.” Nevertheless, in the final wash-up, …Of the Dark Light is a merely solid, unexciting entry in Suffocation’s intimidating catalog.

#8. Souls to Deny (2004). Suffocation’s then long-awaited comeback album Souls to Deny, saw the return of original drummer Mike Smith, and was a big fucking deal when released in 2004. There is also nostalgia attached as the first “new” Suffocation album I encountered after absorbing their classic pre-hiatus material. But despite its flaws and underwhelming production, Souls to Deny offers some sweet action. Marking the dawn of a new era for the band, Souls to Deny feels like a fresh start, while carrying over the band’s signature characteristics, albeit in a more refined, modern form. The dry, somewhat muddy production lent a raw edge, but also sapped some power from a tidy collection of songs, that never threatened to outdo their unfuckwithable ’90s material. Nevertheless, the return of a legendary act was significant, and Souls to Deny never sounds redundant or unworthy of the Suffocation name. Mullen’s vocals are hoarse and urgent sounding, the technicality, finesse and brute force of axemen Hobbs and Guy Marchais added a touch of melodic, almost proggy nuance to otherwise trademark Suffo guitar traits. “To Weep Once More,” “Surgery of Impalement,” and “Tomes of Acrimony” are examples of the album’s finely crafted morsels.

#7. Breeding the Spawn (1993). Marred by its infamously dodgy production, Breeding the Spawn is a dark horse entry in the Suffocation canon. Saddled with sonic deficiencies, Breeding the Spawn remains a mostly enjoyable platter. The lo-fi, crappy production has a certain, muddy charm, but it also greatly hinders overall enjoyment of the album, taking the gloss off what is otherwise a strong collection of songs. The fact numerous songs have been re-recorded over the years is indicative of the band’s own dissatisfaction with how the album turned out. Yet to ignore Breeding the Spawn would be a grave mistake. Suffocation took the elements from Effigy and infused a more technical, knotty, and melodic edge, while retaining a tough as nails, furnace-blasting exterior on such wicked gems as “Breeding the Spawn,” “Marital Decimation,” “Prelude to Repulsion” and “Anomalistic Offerings.” Breeding the Spawn’s relentless energy, potent bass work from Chris Richards, and raw, unfiltered aesthetics set off an undeniable charm. However, the muddy, soupy production and mix neuters the guitars, muzzles the album’s power, and pushes the drums and vocals obnoxiously to the forefront of the mix. All making for a tough sell for regular rotations.

#6. Pinnacle of Bedlam (2013). A decade ago on release, Pinnacle of Bedlam blew me away and became one of my favorite modern Suffocation albums. It is fair to say I’ve cooled on that initial enthusiasm through the passage of time, yet it still remains one of their strongest post-millennium efforts. Again, I could quibble on the overly clean production choice, however, Pinnacle boasted a hell of a lot more energy, diversity, and memorability than Blood Oath. The slammy grooves hit harder, the riffs are catchier, while the album’s frantic, thrashy pulse, precision attack, and shrewd melodic bent elevated the album to the upper tier of modern Suffo material. There are some huge tunes littered throughout the album, which is also light on weaker material and tightly edited for maximum killing power. But the album also has great pep in its step, an explosiveness and vibrancy that makes the songs really pop, with highlights including statement opener “Cycles of Suffering,” the proggy, thrash-infused savagery of “As Grace Descends,” and gripping closer “Beginning of Sorrow,” featuring a classic, monstrously heavy Suffocation breakdown. “Sullen Days” even throws in an extended acoustic intro, before setting into a pummeling grind.

#5. Despise the Sun EP (1998). The final recording before their lengthy hiatus at the back end of the ’90s, Despise the Sun marked further line-up shuffles. Scene veteran Dave Culross (Malevolent Creation) manned the drum stool and the band transitioned to a cleaner, modernized sound, adding clarity, though perhaps sacrificing the endearingly chunky sonic heft and punch of Pierced from Within. Nevertheless, Suffocation penned a fierce and efficient EP that pulled no punches. Perhaps lacking some of the creativity and complex acrobatics of the trio of LPs that preceded it, Despise the Sun cuts a different figure, taking a bludgeoning, hard-nosed approach, while retaining the brutal, techy elements and unique sound that had already cemented Suffocation as brutal death legends and pioneers. Culross drives the assault with precise, hammering rhythms and uber-tight double bass, while on their last proper release together, Cerrito and Hobbs go out with a bang, courtesy of their violent, intricate, and rib-crushing fretwork. Throw in another typically inspired Mullen vocal performance and you are left with a potent mere sixteen-minute masterclass, containing such classics as the monolithic “Funeral Inception,” grindy, cavernous “Bloodchurn,” and the neatly upgraded version of “Catatonia” from Human Waste.

#4. Suffocation (2006). Suffocation’s second post-reunion album found the band crafting a more streamlined, crisper-sounding album, blasting the cobwebs out after the muted return of Souls to Deny. The production shift and the album’s varied, slower pacing and moody atmosphere offer a unique entry that stands out among its modern counterparts. Suffocation is crunchy, riffy, groovy and technical, yet retains the band’s signature knotty traits and blasty, thrashy intensity. To be honest, I didn’t expect this underrated self-titled platter to rank so high, but here we are. Suffocation balances their old school stylings with modern flair just right, and the album is both vicious and surprisingly nuanced, bolstered by a passionate, refined, yet still intimidating vocal delivery by Mullen. His seasoned cohorts backed up their frontman with top-shelf musicianship throughout densely packed, complex, and varied compositions, that are accessible, groove-laden, yet full of venom, heft, and a trademark, blasting, brutal edge. The devastating “Bind, Torture, Kill,” crushing weight of “Entrails of You,” and grinding, mammoth heft of “Redemption” offer snapshots of the quality within this gritty, versatile dark horse of the Suffo canon.

#3. Human Waste EP (1991). Arguably the birthplace of brutal death, Human Waste represents Suffocation at their most raw, visceral, and downright nasty. The crude, primal production has a rough and gritty lo-fi charm, adding to the EP’s grimy, unsettling atmosphere. Although lacking the refinement and technical sophistication of later works, there is something so incredibly satisfying and endearing about Human Waste all these years later. Despite several tracks being rehashed and re-recorded on Effigy, the unique feel and tone of the Human Waste originals stand out in their own right and offer a deliciously raw, caveman charm to their more refined counterparts. The bruising, steamrolling crush of the riffs, chest caving heaviness, and Mullen’s ragged, muffled growls combine to crush, kill, destroy on such rabid, violent classics as “Infecting the Crypts,” ominous slow build of “Catatonia” and gnashing, slicing riffs of “Human Waste.”

#2. Effigy of the Forgotten (1991). Perhaps the most widely regarded Suffocation album, hot on the heels of the grimy, bog beast of Human Waste, Effigy revamped several tracks from the EP, noticeably sharpening and refining their formula, while greatly increasing the scope of their songwriting and technical skills. Suffocation created a timeless masterpiece that remains one of the best and most influential brutal death metal albums, holding up remarkably well decades later. It’s a dark, subtly addictive, and relentless opus, an intricately woven slab of awesomeness that effortlessly careens through frequent tempo changes, complex, bludgeoning riffs, immensely powerful, creative drumming, and epic, smackdown grooves. Throw in Mullen’s classic, muffled growls and a fat bruising production job and you are left with an extremely heavy, well-crafted, and memorable masterclass of ahead-of-its-time brutality and technical prowess. The recharged versions of the Human Waste material take on a new life of their own, while savage, technical, and slammy classics like “Liege of Inveracity,” “Seeds of the Suffering” and “Mass Obliteration” highlight an album packed with timeless, brutal death essentials.

#1. Pierced from Within (1995). On any given day it can be a toss-up between the top two ranked albums. Both are genre classics and the benchmark for technically advanced brutal death in the ’90s. But the nod goes to Suffocation’s third LP, the unmatched Pierced from Within. This is a perfect headphone album to fully immerse yourself in the album’s thoughtful, intricately packed arrangements, and tar-thick crush of the outstanding dual guitar work and bass-heavy production job. Suffocation lifted their game to even more elite realms, upping the technicality and ripping through intricate, deceptively catchy compositions, once again deftly balancing complexity, slivers of melody, and guttural force, with tight, infectious riffing and gut-punching grooves. Everything fell into place, while the drastically improved production separated it from its sonically flawed predecessor. Pierced is loaded with wow moments, amazing musicianship, and one of the tightest and most gripping dual guitar performances on a brutal death album, with Hobbs and Cerrito in devastating form. Doug Bohn and Chris Richards created an immensely skilled and creative rhythmic backbone to level up the album’s technical stakes, while Mullen commanded the mic with a dominant, fiercely intense performance. Highlights chop and change, due to the album’s wall-to-wall quality and consistency, but make no mistake Pierced from Within is a stone-cold classic.

Maddog

Suffocation was one of the first death metal bands I ever sampled, shortly after titans like Morbid Angel and Death. The feeling of hearing “Infecting the Crypts” for the first time has never faded. Suffocation’s classics strike a perfect balance between brutality and accessibility. Blending technicality with thoughtful breakdowns, Suffocation tracks are masterclasses in keeping riffs and tempo in constant flux. Despite their “brutal death metal” tagline, Suffocation is a rewarding listen even for newcomers.

This Thanksgiving, give thanks for Suffocation. Without their guiding light, brutal death metal might not exist; the output of bands like Cryptopsy and Dying Fetus might not have been the same. Without Suffocation, music wouldn’t slam, and deathcore might never have emerged. Without them, we wouldn’t have the greatest live death metal band.¹ Without them, death metal drumming wouldn’t be as unhinged, and death metal vocals wouldn’t be as feral. Most of all, without Suffocation, we wouldn’t have Suffocation. That’s reason enough for me.

#10. …Of the Dark Light (2017). …Of the Dark Light leans into the technical deathcore sound that had always loomed in Suffocation’s background. While I wouldn’t go as low as Eldritch Elitist’s scathing 2.0, his criticisms ring true.² The riffs here top most deathcore and are recognizable as Suffocation, but lack energy. Tracks like “Clarity through Deprivation” and “The Warmth within the Dark” lose focus through toothless riffs and repetitive chugs. Meanwhile, abrupt transitions on “The Violation” and the title track make …Of the Dark Light sound haphazard compared to earlier Suffocation. Still, there are glimpses of greatness. The deathcore bits hit hard when they’re well-written like the bludgeoning “Return to the Abyss.” The ending of “Some Things Should Be Left Alone” is a reminder of the spellbinding power of Suffocation’s guitar parts. …Of the Dark Light is a worthwhile use of 35 minutes, but it’s nowhere near Suffocation’s best work.

#9. Souls to Deny (2004). The band’s first release after splitting up and re-forming, Souls to Deny reins in Pierced from Within’s intensity. Souls to Deny is a good album, but it lacks the climaxes that define Suffocation. It’s a collection of competent riffs, nothing more and nothing less. Even the more popular songs like “Deceit” and “Souls to Deny” each have one or two solid ideas but don’t develop beyond that. The album’s abrupt transitions make it a less satisfying listen than the LPs that precede and succeed it (“To Weep Once More”). Even so, Souls to Deny has some bangers. Mid-album highlight “Surgery of Impalement” is infectious and rhythmically creative, and the powerful riffs of “Tomes of Acrimony” bring the album to a satisfying close. No track here deserves a place among Suffocation’s greatest, but Souls to Deny is a fun listen nonetheless.

#8. Blood Oath (2009). Blood Oath is a respectable misstep. After Suffocation’s voyage through every cranny of Suffocation’s sound, Blood Oath attempts the same with less success. “Pray for Forgiveness” demonstrates the technical side of Suffocation with gripping riffs and dominant drums, while crowd favorites “Blood Oath” and “Cataclysmic Purification” show off the band’s heft. Every song brings something to the table, but it sometimes isn’t enough. For instance, “Undeserving” thrives on its early melodies but loses focus, while the impressive solo work on “Provoking the Disturbed” leads into forgettable riffs. I struggle to find specific issues with Blood Oath, but it doesn’t steamroll nearly as hard as its neighbors. Give it a shot, but temper your expectations.

#7. Despise the Sun EP (1998). “Catatonia” makes this EP tough to rank. Re-recorded from Human Waste, Despite the Sun’s rendition of “Catatonia” features some of the most evocative fretboard wizardry in metal history, sandwiched between titanic riffs that exude deathbed desperation. Aside from some catchy sections of the title track, the rest of this EP struggles to keep up. “Funeral Inception” is an inauspicious start, weighed down by uninspired breakdowns and failing to ever take off. Much of Despise the Sun follows suit, with riffs that resemble Pierced from Within but without as much oomph. Still, “Catatonia” alone makes Despise the Sun a worthwhile listen. Trudging through four middling tracks is a small price to pay for one of the greatest death metal tracks ever recorded.

#6. Pinnacle of Bedlam (2013). Pinnacle of Bedlam’s consistent quality is stunning given the context. Released 25 years into the band’s career, Pinnacle is Suffocation’s first album after drummer Mike Smith re-departed the band.³ Despite these challenges, Pinnacle of Bedlam is a bulldozer. Operating at neither their slowest nor their speediest, Pinnacle unleashes a mid-paced assault. From the first moments of “Cycles of Suffering,” Suffocation lays down some of their most memorable riffs. Tracks like “Sullen Days” don’t remake death metal, but they tower over the genre through their strength and painstaking construction. Conversely, the segments of melodic beauty are a reminder of Suffocation’s creativity (“Pinnacle of Bedlam”). Pinnacle of Bedlam falters in its second half, and the loud clinical production holds it back from excellence. And yet, the album looms large among Suffocation’s later output. Happy Metal Guy smiles up from his graves.

#5. Breeding the Spawn (1993). Breeding the Spawn is a dark horse. Some maintain that it’s Suffocation’s greatest album, overlooked due to its infamous production.⁴ They have a point. Breeding the Spawn feels like a dry run of Pierced from Within, interspersing breakneck style changes (“Breeding the Spawn”) with crushing doomy riffs (“Marital Decimation”). Both extremes hit hard, and the playful interplay makes Breeding the Spawn one of Suffocation’s most fun albums. Highlights like “Ignorant Deprivation” illustrate Suffocation’s unparalleled ability to meld disparate styles. Breeding the Spawn has the misfortune of being flanked by classics. While still strong, the riffs here are neither as explosive as predecessor Effigy of the Forgotten nor as berserk as follow-up Pierced from Within. Meanwhile, the muddled guitar sound weakens the record, and the thin bass dominates the mix. Even so, Breeding the Spawn is a triumph. If you’re new to this album, give it a shot. You may find yourself in an unlikely love affair.

#4. Human Waste EP (1991). Human Waste ranks among the worst-produced music I’ve ever heard. It’s crackly enough to deserve a Rice Krispies sponsorship (“Jesus Wept”), the drums dominate the mix and sound like paper plates (“Human Waste”), and basement demo vibes abound. Most of the tracks here were re-recorded for later releases, and the re-recordings outshine Human Waste in terms of both their content (notably “Catatonia”) and their production. And yet, as Steel said of this debut EP, “I love that shitty thing.” Human Waste showcases a rough draft of the sound that Suffocation would develop over the 1990s. The riffs are speedy and indomitable, and the frantic sound is unique among Suffocation’s output. Most impressively, the stellar songwriting makes it difficult to believe that this was the work of college-age kids (“Infecting the Crypts”). I return to this maelstrom even more frequently as the years go by, and I hope I never stop.

#3. Suffocation (2006). Suffocation fulfills the broken promise of Souls to Deny. Suffocation’s fifth full-length blends the measured pace of their later work with both the intensity and the hulking riffs of their classics. The result is the band’s most underrated record. The all-time great songwriting on opener “Abomination Reborn” delivers barnburner riffs, a crushing chorus, and a gorgeous extended guitar solo in under 4 minutes. After setting this sky-high bar, Suffocation delivers. “Misconceived” and “Entrails of You” are clinics in integrating breakdowns that shift the mood without skimping on energy. Meanwhile, the mid-album twofer “Translucent Patterns of Delirium” and “Creed of Infidel” lay down rhythmic riffwork that stands apart from Suffocation’s usual specialties. While the back half of the album has room for improvement, Suffocation accomplishes what few OG bands ever do: rivaling their best work without regurgitating it. Suffocation sounded colossal to me as a dumb teen, and it has stood the test of time.

#2. Pierced from Within (1995). Putting this in second place feels criminal. Pierced from Within is a singular portrait of Suffocation at their fiercest. Aided by the production, Terrance Hobbs and Doug Cerrito’s razor-sharp riffs are at once unforgettable and soul-piercing (“Torn into Enthrallment”). Suffocation’s rhythmic experimentation peaks on Pierced from Within, with hectic tempo changes galore (“Suspended in Tribulation”). Despite the departure of iconic drummer Mike Smith, his replacement Doug Bohn pulls more than his weight. Indeed, few drum performances in metal history hold a candle to Bohn’s pummeling on the monumental “Brood of Hatred.” On the flip side, Pierced from Within’s death-doom sections slow down to a crawl without abandoning their violent directive. Frank Mullen’s vocals are a treat, adding unexpected depth to a genre known for its thoughtless gurgles. Above all, Pierced from Within wows with its cohesion and consistency. Suffocation’s versatility shines through highlights like “Thrones of Blood,” where the disparate elements of their sound merge into irresistible oblivion. No song here misses the mark. From the furious opening title track to the closing cover of “Breeding the Spawn,” Pierced from Within is a treasure.

#1. Effigy of the Forgotten (1991). Effigy of the Forgotten is one of the greatest debut records I’ve ever heard, rivaling classics like Bergtatt, In the Nightside Eclipse, Black Sabbath, and Madonna. Effigy’s classics speak for themselves. The mighty breakdown on opener “Liege of Inveracity” single-handedly spawned the genres of slam and arguably deathcore. “Infecting the Crypts” and “Jesus Wept” house two of the hookiest riffs ever written. Drummer Mike Smith slays through both his ballistic bass drumming (“Seeds of the Suffering”) and his melodic fills (“Infecting the Crypts”). Even the second-rate songs on Effigy are fantastic. “Reincremation” is a chainsaw to the cerebrum, in contrast with the joyous riff-fest of “Mass Obliteration.” Effigy retains the raw energy of the debut EP Human Waste, but boasts much better production and more maturity in its songwriting. Suffocation’s strengths come together with stunning fluidity, like on the fiery title track. While Pierced from Within comes close in quality, Effigy of the Forgotten’s iconic status broke the tie. In my eyes, this is the first full-length brutal death metal album ever, a landmark in early tech death, and a contender for the most powerful debut in metal history. Effigy is essential.

Suffocation Primer Playlist…

Suffocation’s ninth full-length album Hymns from the Apocrypha released on November 3rd worldwide via Nuclear Blast Records.

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Angra is important to me. As an angry metal youth, power and thrash metal—part timing, excellency, and availability on Limewire—were my two biggest loves, and the mid-00s was at least kind to one of those. Caught somewhere between the flowery, galloping wank-fests of European power metal, and the heavier tone, shred-assisted US scene, Angra came to life in Brazil, a region where really only Sepultura reigned. And a little over a decade later, I found them and have been a fan ever since, even as my taste for the whimsical stylings of power metal has waned in older age.¹

As any band whose sound leans on progressive elements and has been around this long, Angra exists in eras defined by member exodus and frontman reformation. Initially helmed by the sometimes hard to swallow, traditional falsetto wail of Andre Matos (RIP, 2019), Angra burst upon the heavy metal masses with assistance from European friend Alex Holzwarth (ex-[Luca Turilli’s] Rhapsody [of Fire], ex-Sieges Even), who was as “worlds away” as the power metal loving audience of that day. But persevering in their native Brazil, Angra developed a local lineup, which paved the way for regional and international success. So by the time Matos split and took the rhythm section with him to form Shaman, Angra had already become a fixture in their homeland, setting up this second generation guided by the voice of Edu Falaschi for the even wider spread acclaim they would garner. It only made sense then that the third wave saw Fabio Lione, then-current now former frontman of [(Luca) Turilli(/Lione)’s] Rhapsody [of Fire] (the only band with a potentially more management-troubled history), take the mic. More is more when you’re riding the Angra train.

But despite the success, Angra largely continues to be a band that challenges their own sound in both dramatic and subtle ways with each release. No doubt some of this comes from many of the individual contributors’ dialed and practiced pedigrees, with long-time (now former) guitarist Kiko Loureiro boasting a world-class solo discog,² legacy bassist Felipe Andreoli’s various adventures across the jazzosphere, former drummer Aquiles Priester’s breadth of performance, and, of course, founding member Rafael Bittencourt’s heartfelt dedication to making Angra continue to work. Passion for music keeps the machine running and the fans listening, which is why we’re all excited for the upcoming tenth album Cycles of Pain… and why you, dear readers, are about to get a whole lot of Dolph.

– Dolphin Whisperer

The Ranking:

#9. Fireworks (1998). Being the bottom of the Angra pile isn’t necessarily a bad thing—Fireworks features some of the most neoclassical-influenced guitar dueling that Kiko Loureiro and Rafael Bittencourt had summoned to that point. And, to be quite honest, between the nylon and cutting tone layers of “Petrified Eyes” and the rollicking harpsichord sounds on “Lisbon” and “Paradise,” I don’t think Angra led quite this way afterward. Perhaps this direction left for Shaman with original vocalist Andre Matos, who provided all the keys sounds in addition to his continued hit-or-miss power metal wail. Despite certain songs that drag too long (“Paradise” through “Fireworks”), this Brazilian powerhouse produces absolutely inspired moments on the Van Halen-kissed intro to “Petrified Eyes,” the funky fresh bridge of “Metal Icarus,” and the true-to-name closer “Speed.” Not a complete dude, Fireworks offers plenty, just not a grand outro for this first era of Angra.

#8. Aqua (2010). Don’t get me wrong, this album is still good, but a few things have to end up at the bottom, that’s how a list works! Aqua landed at a time when power metal was rapidly falling out of fashion, and seemingly in response it sees Angra taking a stance more as a cinematic, progressive band with various synth layers being louder and more ubiquitous than any recording to date. This too was the close of an Angra era, the last album fronted by vocalist Edu Falaschi, who would go on to produce more albums that, well… kind of sound like this, but with a lot more practice and framed better around his aging voice. Sometimes these synth-heavy, big-screen cinematics land rather well (“Spirit of the Air, “Hollow”), particularly because the production favors the glitching and popping frequencies that the electronic inclusions provide. Though Falaschi’s croons push further than advisable often and receive some strange filtering effects (“Arising Thunder,” “Lease of Life”)—still more hits than clunkers.

#7. Angels Cry (1993). This debut feels every bit of its thirty years of age that it is in this year of our Jørn, 2023. But that’s OK. Well except for that Kate Bush cover, “Wuthering Heights.” That’s not OK. Andre Matos’ heavily nasal, highly falsetto stylings—absolutely expected, slight pitchiness and all, in power metal this old—are already a hard sell, and if that song were the first thing you ever heard from Angra you’d tuck tail and run far, far away. But if you dive headfirst into this front-to-back, you get “Carry On,” “Angels Cry,” and “Evil Warning,” all tracks that show the budding guitar duo of Kiko Loureiro and Rafael Bittencourt weaving carefully layered, emotional leads over a kind of metal that you would never have expected from the country of Brazil, at the time. It’s an important album and displays many of the strengths that Bittencourt and his chosen cast would refine later, including the huge, rewarding closing cut—”Lasting Child” in this case, which features an additional touch of beautiful Matos’ piano work, a nice organic touch against the dated synth tones.

#6. Ømni (2018). Full disclosure, it gets pretty tough from here on up. To put it simply, Ømni gives a little more than it needs to. Angra has plenty of long albums and arguably most of those do not feel the impact from track-to-track—Fabio Lione’s presence alone isn’t enough, despite being legendary in the scene. On his second appearance with Angra, he feels most comfortable with tracks that allow him to find a soaring wail over mid-tempo power grooves (“Travelers of Time,” “Black Widow’s Web,” “Caveman”) and dip into anthemic prog/power fury (“Light of Trascendence,” “War Horns”). Bittencourt also lends his sultry croon to “The Bottom of My Soul” and “Silence Inside,” which consequently also have the most personality of all the tracks here. And the ones I didn’t mention? Again, it’s not that they’re bad, but when you’ve gotta hold me for an hour, I don’t need a throwaway crowd song (“Isania”), an OK ballad (“Always More”), or a reprisal outro that adds zero to the equation. In a race this tight, the details absolutely matter.³

#5. Temple of Shadows (2004). “Together we waaaait in siiilence”—I could listen to “Waiting Silence” on repeat for days. From the gentle chorus chord hits that build tension, to the monster choir-layered main refrain, to the jaw-dropping Loureiro solo, it represents just about everything this version of Angra could do right. As the second installment in the Falaschi era, it also represents the first concept album since Holy Land, and, as such stretches a fantasy narrative to a potentially unnecessary degree in the name of that choice. It’s the longest Angra album, and many of the epic numbers that add to that runtime absolutely earn their keep (“The Shadow Hunter,” “No Pain for the Dead,” “Morning Star”). But with Falaschi operating in his prime, the duet song “The Temple of Hate” with Kai Hansen (Gamma Ray, Helloween) feels unnecessary—even hurt by Hansen’s goblin-y squeal. And though Hansi Kürsch (Blind Guardian, ex-Demons & Wizards) carries his performance undeniably well, his different timbre takes me out of the environment that Falaschi builds for himself. A concept album should be doing everything to make the total environment engrossing. The closing orchestral reprise does feel fitting here, at least, and the numerous non-synth instrument layers add tons of depth to this release and make it easy to return to if you have the time.

#4. Rebirth (2001). As much a second start as the title promises, this first outing with the Falaschi iteration of Angra took not a step but a leap into the erupting field of prog/power. Though the title itself has much meaning, with only the core guitar duo of Loureiro and Bittencourt remaining after other member departures, Rebirth is not a concept album, unless that concept is “a power metal album with banger after banger.” Early number “Millennium Sun” makes an early ballad fake-out before revealing itself as just another righteous vehicle to show off the sheer power this reincarnation offered. The upbeat and epic “Acid Rain,” “Judgement Day,” and “Running Alone” remain standout numbers in the band’s discog and showcases for the growing progressive technicality that would keep Angra above the pack of Stratovarius clones that dominated scene discussion. Consequently, as a coming-of-age metal fan, those songs too are what pulled me to explore Angra in the first place with YouTube rabbit holes surrounding new drummer Aquiles Priester’s bombastic kitwork mesmerizing me in a way that only a truly fresh flavor to an unexplored palate can. Oh yeah, and “Visions Prelude” pulls a lasting “Lasting Child” but better and bigger. A little attitude can go a long way.

#3. Secret Garden (2014) – I never expected Lione and Angra to work. Between his Rhapsody [of Fire] histrionics and my perception of Angra as something of a band rooted less in the “wizards and dragons” identity of European power metal, skepticism heavily colored my anticipation of this release. But immediately summoning a rasp that Lione would only find in passing on many previous efforts, “Newborn Me” screams emblematic against anyone, myself included, who held this belief. Fortunately, too, Angra has always had a cinematic edge to many of their most ambitious releases. And the increased synth presence that made Aqua an uneven ride feels at home with the introductory urgency of “Newborn Me,” the electronic waning of “Final Light,” the dramatic operatic crush of “Upper Levels”—you name it, it works. Our own Angra Metal Guy said it best as he explained that “while Secret Garden never pushes into truly novel territory, it executes Angra’s brand of power/prog with alacrity.” And it’s true, mostly, except for the fact that Bittencourt had been hiding a rock-ready, emotional croon that we get to hear bridge the weight of “Storm of Emotions” and rejuvenated Doro’s tired cries on “Crushing Room”—shit, Lione and Bittencourt trade Sting impressions on “Synchronicity II” like they’ve been doing it forever. All these years, Bittencourt had been the secret heart of Angra.

#2. Holy Land (1996). Not as raw-voiced as Angels Cry and justifying its length through narrative better than what Angra would try later with Temple of Shadows, Holy Land stands as the premier offering of Angra’s first era and one of finest they’ve ever produced. Part of this comes from the sheer fun that tracks like the percussion-forward “Carolina IV,” the bossa nova-tinged, berimbau-assisted “Holy Land,” and the overblown “Z.I.T.O” radiate. Not to mention, for an album that pushes an hour, each moment feels vital, from the enrapturing hymnal opener “Crossing” that leads through storm crashes into “Nothing to Say” to the recalled basilical languish of “Deep Blue.” While the debut didn’t lack an identity, these little touches mark the first time Angra stood proudly as a Brazilian band, which is kind of a big deal. Yes, some of the synth choices definitely sound like 1996, and yes, Angra couldn’t go without a ballad (“Make Believe”). But thankfully Matos makes up for that heavy schmaltz with a delicately piercing performance on the somber “Silence and Distance” and closing “Lullaby for Lucifer.” The exposition-driven and long-phrase tracks are what he was always meant to sing.

#1. Aurora Consurgens (2006). I honestly don’t get why people knock on this album. Sure, there’s no grand scheme on it like the preceding Temple of Shadows or the older Holy Land. But what does that matter when every song comes loaded with a unique and memorable intro that falls into Angra at their most free and urgent. The touch-and-go guitar wizardry of “The Void Commanding You,” the moody bass-tapping of “Ego Painted Grey,”⁴ the classic power metal guitar duel of “Window to Nowhere,” the synth-led chord build of “Scream Your Heart Out”—I could sit here and explain every song in focused and elated detail because they are just that emblazoned in my mind. Loureiro and Bittencourt hold nothing back from their book of tricks to escalate every song along somber or exuberant paths, and Falaschi sounds as confident in his voice as he would until his solo work much later in life.⁵ Aurora Consurgens doesn’t sit atop my list for being the most ambitious or critically noteworthy release in Angra’s career. Rather, as an expression of pure prog/power joy and elegantly technical anthem, it champions both my inner audience that yells at the top of each chorus and my inner shredder whose fingers move along in nonsense with each passing fret run. I don’t need to be in a specific mood to hit this—throughout the past seventeen years, I just find my way to the play button and smile.

The Primer: No “Wuthering Heights” allowed, at least not by Angra.

Angra’s tenth full-length album Cycles of Pain will be released on November 3rd worldwide via Atomic Fire Records. Let the power flow through you.

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