Aside from overall recording quality and songwriting polish—both of which have improved significantly over the course of seven years—Post Luctum are exactly as I remember, just more refined. Like a friend for whom time apart never creates a mire of awkwardness at the point of reunion, mastermind Ian Goetchius’ slow and steady despair rings with the same earnestness that made After Mourning such a striking proof of concept. At once, I feel comforted and warmed by Timor Lucis’ Slowed melodies, chilled by its Altars of Grief-like eulogy, and heartened by post-metallic touches that evoke hints of In Mourning or Latitudes. It’s a reliable sound that should be familiar to anyone who partakes of the funeral side of the doom spectrum, and Post Luctum applies it with poise and passion.

As the crooning cleans of “Approaching Light” give way to the lumbering march of the deadly “Shrouded by the Sea,” Timor Lucis envelops me in a kind of sorrow that pulls me into full immersion with an uncanny ease. Almost an autonomic response beyond my control, this immersion feels akin to immediacy in the context of this music, where memorability is found not so much in individual notes and compartmentalized verses, but rather in moods and moments of emotional significance. Even as songs gently coast from a desperate roar to a delicate breeze (“Sunken Fate” into “In Water”) to form notable highlights, I always recall the moment I heard it—where I was, what I felt, what visions these sonic waves summoned from my thoughts—more vividly than the music’s corporeal form. A different impression than what many artists design for their audience, this experience is its own kind of magic. Difficult to conjure and even trickier to master, Post Luctum struck the right balance of texture, timing, and feeling to invoke such magic and impose its power on my mind, revealing Timor Lucis’ greatest strength.

Curious, then, that once the final note fades into the ether, I struggle to find that pull which brings me back into Timor Lucis’ loving, tear-soaked embrace. As I continued my tenure with this record, I wondered if the root of that struggle was familiarity. Songs like “Disavowed,” “A Curse Now A Plague,” and “I Welcome In the Cold” reminded so strongly of the core of my funeral doom rotation (Slow, Un, Woebegone Obscured) that Post Luctum inadvertently guided me directly into their clutches, and I found myself forgetting about Timor Lucis. I realize now that this is the double-edged sword of the aforementioned strength this record holds. Immersive as it undoubtedly is, and as reliable as its writing is in achieving that immersion minute-to-minute, Timor Lucis simply isn’t bold enough as a distinct entity to draw me away from those acts it resembles with which I enjoy a deeper, more established relationship.

This dichotomy exposes one of the greatest challenges not just in reviewership, but also in songwriting from the perspective of the listener. A record is not made unworthy strictly because it is familiar, nor is my enjoyment of this material lessened by my personal history with the genre. Chances are good that I will return to Timor Lucis with a willing and eager heart over the course of the year. Equally, I acknowledge that it will never meaningfully challenge those records I deem the highest order in the style. On the other hand, you, the reader, might find this is your highest order. Regardless, Post Luctum deserves a chance to take you into its heart, and in the spirit of that truth, I offer my warm, albeit moderated, recommendation.

Rating: Good!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: postluctum.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/postluctum
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

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On the funeral doom scale, Lone Wanderer fits the Oromet scale more closely than My Dying Bride or Godthrymm. Exequaie mixes the gentle with the crushingly heavy, and the heavier riffs carry more reverb than muscle, lending a more tranquil feel than raw power. Over the course of 24 minutes, the beastly opener “To Rest Eternally” demonstrates Lone Wanderer’s slow burn approach, with impenetrably deep vocals, glacial drum beats, and a slowly developed melody. The gentler portions put away the booming drums and instead twinkle with arpeggiated rhythm while the bass plays out a complementary melody. We hear this tug and pull throughout Exequiaie, from the melancholic and heavy to something more peaceful, still tinged with sorrow but carrying a little hope. Ironically, “Anhedonia”¹ showcases the album’s most pleasurable and memorable riffs during its opening few minutes. The remainder is also exquisite, delving into immense sorrow before closing out in tranquility. The song guides you into gentle acceptance of the fate that awaits us all at the end.

Going in line with the “funeral rites” theme, plenty of elements in Exequaie appear to represent religious symbols or godly figures. The opening minutes of “To Rest Eternally” provide a distant reminder of a church setting with the tolling of bells. This holy setting returns in the finale, “Epistemology of the Passed,” where organs play a mournful dirge alongside wistful arpeggios. The vocals from Bruno Schotten serve as an omnipresent character, his low rumbles coming off like thunder rolling through the sky. Scattered throughout the album, Lone Wanderer perform spoken word portions that serve to enhance this godly persona. While such song segments are generally a nuisance, here they fit seamlessly, taking on the presence of an Oz-like character, commanding yet distant. The purpose of these elements may be inscrutable, but they do provide a sense of formality and authority accompanying death.

As great as the individual tracks are, Exequiae’s biggest obstacle is its own length. With any funeral doom record, holding the listener’s attention can be a challenge, and a 72-minute runtime across 5 songs feels more like work than pleasure. Yet there is plenty to enjoy on this epic record, and Lone Wanderer does implement some variety to mix things up a bit. “Existence Nullified” has a moment of chugging death-doom riffs that take me back to early Swallow the Sun. “Epistemology of the Passed” has a similar increase in tempo thanks to energetic tremolos and brisk drum beats. These moments are brief and few, but all the more notable because of their rarity. In the end, Exequaie’s length isn’t a deal breaker because it has such exquisite compositions. There’s just so much beauty in the music it could go on for twice as long and it’d still be heavenly.

Lone Wanderer is kicking funeral doom off to a great start for 2026. There’s something about the band’s often gentle sound that creates calm, as opposed to bands that lay the despair and melancholy thick with more powerful, overbearing guitar tones. Don’t let the 72 minutes intimidate you. Set aside some time and let Exequiae’s mix of melancholic, peaceful, and even hopeful tones wash over you and transport you, for a time, to a place where you no longer need to worry.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: High Roller Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

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Grave is funeral doom, broadly categorized. It borrows plenty from a cavernous and malevolent doom-death on the one hand, and an almost post-doom ambience on the other. Rather than any of the actual touchstones mentioned, it is Ahab that Dvm Spiro’s music seems to channel most strongly and frequently, the particular rhythm and tone of warm liquid plucks and an intruding sinister melody—combined with the crushing heaviness either side—reminding me in particular of Call of the Wretched Sea (“Indistinta Morte,” “Insoluto D’Anima”). There are also a few hints of the aforementioned Funeral (“Troppo Lente Scendono Le Tue”) and Endonomos (“Dissentimento”). In general, Dvm Spiro largely eschew that grandiose transcendence of synth-forward funeral doom and tip the melodic scales away from mournful beauty in favor of a more unsettling dissonance or uncomfortable modal shifting. There are still majestic, mellifluous moments, but Grave seems intended to trouble its listener more than anaesthetise or provide catharsis.

It’s this subversion of aesthetic expectations that gives Dvm Spiro and Grave their character. On paper, the vocal dynamic between female cleans and male harsh vox in the context of doom suggests an ethereal Beauty-and-the-Beast dichotomy—à la Shape of Despair or Draconian. But Dvm Spiro don’t play into the trope so neatly, elevating tension with multifaceted performances from both vocalists. Valeria De Benedectis’ singing carries some of the record’s most beautiful moments (“Indistinta Morte,” “Troppo Lente…”), but also some of the most discomfiting as her voice lapses into haughty, ardent repetition (“Indistinta Morte”) or turns sharply into a malevolent tone (“Preludio,” “Dissentimento”). Roberto Ripollino’s growls join her sometimes for an undeniably powerful duet of opposites (“Dissentimento”) but so too do Maurizio DeMichelis’s raspier snarls (“Troppo Lente…,” “Insoluto D’Anima”), creating a blunter, less perfect contrast that jostles the emotions. Pianos, strings, and guitars alike flow, strum, and weep with pathos for a phrase (“Troppo Lente…”), a rare rise above the gloom (“Preludio,” “Dissentimento”), or a dreamlike intro (“Indistinta Morte,” “Insoluto D’Anima”); in these moments, you could almost believe you’re in the more comforting, less real world of another, prettier doom. Grave, however, has other designs, shifting into discordance or another key, dropping a strange tritone and an accompanying guitar chord (“Preludio,” “Indistinta Morte,” “Troppo Lente…”), forcing you to confront the negativity.

Grave is thus striking, but not always in a way that works. I couldn’t and won’t argue that metal of any kind must be an unchallenging listening experience, but Dvm Spiro’s choices sometimes go beyond adding nuance and approach confusion. The modulations can be too jarring (“Preludio,” “Insoluto D’Anima”), songs too long without meaningful builds (“Indistinta Morte”), and prevarication around structures and refrains sometimes frustrating (“Troppo Lente…”). There is both too much and too little happening for the album’s epic 75-minute length to maintain the coherence and magnetism that might be added with more flowing compositions that committed more firmly to a sinister dissonance or uplifting pathos through each successive movement. And so multifaceted passages tend to distract, and extended sections pull back the progression of compositions, rather than drive it onwards.

Let it not be said that Grave is thereby a weak record. Its brilliant moments of both harmony (“Troppo Lente…”) and malevolence (“Indistina Morte”) shine and prove Dvm Spiro capable of magnificence in both aspects. There is a peculiar power in the subtleties and variance of their melodic and compositional approaches that may resonate more with some listeners than others. As a whole, it doesn’t possess the magnitude or the mystique to fully envelop right now. Perhaps its strength is far more insidious.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: My Kingdom Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2025

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They say it’s going to be a harsh winter this year. They always say that, and it’s almost never true, at least not from where I’ve set up camp. However, no matter the weather I am a harsh taskmaster, doling out grueling hours, no pay or benefits, and probably the worst coffee on the planet to my dutiful minions. It takes a special kind of person, motivated by pure unadulterated greed to ravenously scour the filter for dusty, almost-forgotten gems like they do.

But we are thankful for them for being exactly that! And we also benefit, in the form of quality(ish) chunks of glimmery, shimmery metal. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Riffy Representation

Xaoc // Repulsive Summoning [October 31, 2025 – Edgewood Arsenal Records]

Xaoc’s history is one of the more confusing I’ve encountered in my time writing for this blog. After breaking up in 2008, a new lineup spawned in 2022 to record and release Proxime Mortis from the ashes of songs written pre-breakup, supported by Edgewood Arsenal. At some point this year, two more members spawned in anticipation of this new slab Repulsive Summoning. But the band’s labeled as Split Up already on Metallum? I don’t understand what’s going on there, but at least I can say that Repulsive Summoning is a turbo banger! These riffs are bonkers, full of verve and swagger, brimming with groove and muscularity. A happy mix of Vomitory and Dormant Ordeal, this Virginian outfit know how to throw down. Highlights like “Ave Solva Coagula,” “Antima Samskara,” “The Great Perfected Ones,” and the entire “Degenerate Era” three-part suite reduce my body into a fine slurry by the grinding, vicious power of their riffs alone. But the rabid growls, ballistic percussion, and meaty guitar tones contain more than enough fuel to propel those riffs across this tight and thunderous 35-minute runtime. It’s a simple record, built to beat me down and leave me broken and bloodied, but it’s also an effortlessly memorable affair that leaves me wanting more despite the mounting medical bills. Don’t sleep on Xaoc!

Andy-War-Hall’s Succulent Surplus

Canvas of Silence // As the World Tree Fell [October 31st, 2025 – Rockshots Records]

Finnish symphonic metallers Canvas of Silence describe themselves as “prog-influenced chorus metal,” and that description goes far in outlining their debut As the World Tree Fell. Their core sound resembles a progged-out Nightwish moonlighting as a melodeath band, committing ludicrous bombast on symphonic-heavy cuts like “The Great Unknown” and “Wayfarer” amidst a sharp Gothenburg riff attack in “Watching the World Tree Fall” and “Drown.” Canvas of Silence mete out a balanced approach of light and dark sounds between Theocracyesque prog-power (“One With the Wind,” “Humanimal”) and Madder Mortem-like gothic twists (“Drown,” “Anthem for Ashes”), all reined in by the commanding vocal presence of singer Loimu Satakieli.¹ Sitting somewhere between Anette Olzon (ex-Nightwish, The Dark Element) and Agnete Kierkevaag (Madder Mortem), her impassioned and heavily-layered singing turns As the World Tree Fell into a smörgåsbord of lush, catchy and anthemic tunes of an uplifting, sing-along nature. Optimism permeates As the World Tree Fell, felt at a fever pitch on the enormous choral bridge of “Humanimal” and the folky power metal jaunt of “One With the Wind.” Even on lyrically dark/mournful passages like “Wayfarer” and “Garden of the Fallen,” Canvas of Silence deliver soaring, hopeful crescendos that at times reach Fellowship levels of good cheer. Canvas of Silence can craft sincerely beautiful moments, and though As the World Tree Fell’s production can be sterile and overly loud² I am nothing but excited to see what these Finns can cook up next.

Spicie Forrest’s Punky Proferrings

Violent Testimony // Aggravate [October 17th, 2025 – Horror Pain Gore Death Productions]

Do you wish there was more grind in your life? Well, Cheyenne, Wyoming’s Violent Testimony just assumed you would. Combining the punky flair of Napalm Death with the lead foot ethos of early Pig Destroyer and Cattle Decapitation, debut LP Aggravate is 26 minutes of delicious grindy goodness. From the opening salvo of “God Complex Massacre” to the final detonations of “Hit N’ Run,” Violent Testimony shows absolutely no restraint. D.N.’s Gatling drums mow down everything in their path while T.W.’s serpentine bass clears the chaff and flattens any obstruction. Shrapnel propelled by N.Y.’s brutish, breakneck riffing can be seen burying itself in concrete walls, still quivering (“Rider in the Night,” “Psychotic Episode”). Caustic growls and vitriolic screams tear from T.W.’s throat at mach fuck (“Flashbang Celebration,” “Obligatory Manifestation of Infinite Grind”). With only two tracks exceeding the two-minute mark, Violent Testimony screams their piece with as much sound and fury as possible before moving on and picking their next bone with the system. This keeps Aggravate a lean, densely-packed offering. If you need to get pissed off right now and even the fastest death metal is too slow, Violent Testimony is all too happy to decimate the opposition with you.

Uaar // Galger og Brann [October 17th, 2025 – Fysisk Format Records]

Hailing from Oslo, Norway, crust outfit Uaar celebrates their tenth birthday by releasing their debut LP. Galger og Brann, which means “Gallows and Fire” in Norwegian, expands on the foundations laid by established acts like Skitsystem and Tragedy. With one foot firmly planted in black metal and the other in hardcore, Uaar unleashes a cacophony of rage unfettered. D-beats abound, courtesy of Truls Friesl Berg, creating a frantic, enraged atmosphere. Dag Schaug Carlsen’s blackened rasps are so cold they burn, matching the evil pall hanging over tracks like “Galeås” and “Den siste.” Post-flecked, Ancsty tendencies (“Alt Skal Brenne,” “Overalt”) peek through the feral hardcore riffage (“Håpet forsvinner”) of guitarists Erik Berg Friesl and Jon Schaug Carlsen, while bassist Stian S. Evensen provides the muscle to convince you these guys aren’t screwing around. Uaar is well-versed in their base genres, alternating between and mixing black metal and hardcore effortlessly. The occasional blues-tinged heavy metal lead—as in “Overalt” and “Dolken”—keep Galger og Brann from being a one-note affair. With a dearth of standout blackened hardcore releases this year, Uaar’s Galger og Brann is a welcome—if late—addition to the list.

Scorching Tomb // Ossuary [October 24th, 2025 – Time to Kill Records]

I’ll be honest, I’ve never considered Montreal, Canada, to be prime death metal territory. Luckily, Scorching Tomb doesn’t care what I think. Debut LP Ossuary is an aural violation born of Tren-induced hardcore aggression and filthy old school death metal. With a guitar tone (Philippe Lelbanc) like sandpaper and a bass like swallowing gravel (Miguel Lepage), Scorching Tomb plays in the same cesspools as Bloodgutter and Rotpit. We normally associate melted faces with guitar solos, but that honor belongs to whatever corrosive noises issue forth from vocalist Vincent Patrick Lajeunesse’s guts. Drummer Émile Savard loves a blast beat, often detonating them in short bursts to support an already bone-breaking assault (“Feel the Blade”). “Stalagmite³ Impalement” and “Sanctum of Bones (Ossuary)” are particularly savage, with tetanus-inflicting riffs and bloodthirsty screams threatening to drag you into the crypt to be used for meal prep. On “Skullcrush,” Sanguisugabogg’s Devin Swank perfectly matches Scorching Tomb’s vile depravity, cementing them as a promising new act in the scene. Ossuary is raging, muscle-bound, caveman death metal drowned in a vat of viscera and sewage, and it tastes incredible.

ClarkKent’s Gratifying Goodies

Sutratma // Adrift [October 3rd, 2025 – Self-Release]

While I didn’t purposely seek out more doom during my self-imposed month of picking only doom promos, Sutratma’s fifth full-length, Adrift, ranks as one of the better doom albums I listened to in November. This California four-piece has been writing funeral doom for 15 years, and it shows in their ability to craft effective melancholic slow-burns that strike a balance between melody and crushingly heavy. Adrift impresses straight out the gate with the piano-drenched “Wind and Sea.” This song nicely melds the sorrowful softness of the piano with punishing guitar riffs and impressive growls. Just like stalwarts My Dying Bride, Sutratma mixes growls with cleans, and Daniel Larios’s cleans effectively hit you right in the feels while the growls take on a more despairing note. There’s plenty of variety from song to song, with organs stealing the show on “Guiding Star” and a lovely melody on “The Great Bereaver” that builds up to a moving finale. Just like with Oromet, there’s a serenity to the music that is calming, and the skilled songwriting and musicianship lends a poignancy to it all. With the frenzy of list season upon us, it’s nice to have something like this to remind us that it’s okay to just slow down—even when an angry ape is berating you for more content.

Starer // Ancient Monuments and Modern Sadness [October 10th, 2025 – Fiadh Productions]

Josh Hines, the one man behind black metal project, Starer, has been very busy. Since forming Starer in 2020, he has released four EPs and now, with the release of Ancient Monuments and Modern Sadness, four LPs. I first became acquainted with this band on 2023’s Wind, Breeze, or Breath and was taken in by Hines’s aggressively atmospheric take on black metal. Ancient Monuments and Modern Sadness hits the ground running on “I Cry Your Mother’s Blood” with some aggressively catchy melodies. The aggression continues on “Il-Kantilena” with its icy riffs and pumping blast beats. Meanwhile, “The Field of Reeds” combines the black n’ roll of Fell Omen with the fuzzy reverb of atmoblack for a rollicking good time. Hines screams into the void as subdued symphonics add layers of melody, providing a surprising amount of depth to each song. Because of the frenetic pace, the 50-minute runtime flies right by, even as songs like “Song of the Harper” do their best to vary the tempo. For black metal, the production is lush and gorgeous, giving air to all instruments. The epic, ten-minute finale is the culmination of Hines’s ability to put together complex and compelling music that both excites by its aggression and dazzles with its atmospherics. Black metal fans should not miss this one.

Grin Reaper’s Haunted Harvest

Black Cross Hotel // Songs for Switches [October 31st, 2025 – Someoddpilot Records]

Three years after dropping their favorably reviewed debut Hex, keys-drenched and industrialized outfit Black Cross Hotel returns bearing Songs for Switches. 80s-inspired synths, mid-paced chugs, and dance-ready grooves pack neatly into forty-one minutes of grubby fun, sure to interest fans of Ministry and Killing Joke, or anyone with a predilection for leather. Where Hex boasted a wider assortment of tempos, Songs for Switches narrows its focus to mid-paced songs with a keener emphasis on keyboard melodies. Averting a direction that could have been limiting, Black Cross Hotel smartly sidesteps this by shaving down song lengths and arranging the tracks for optimal pacing. Individual moments across the album evoke Me and That Man (“Eyes from Nowhere”), Soulfly (“Blood Dance”), and Joy Division (“Typo”), casting an eclectic array of sounds into Mount Gloom to forge ten dangerously fun tracks. Though I liked the album at first listen, it took multiple spins for Songs for Switches’ distilled aesthetic to fully unfurl, and once it did, my appreciation redoubled. With a sinister atmosphere designed as much for pain as pleasure, Black Cross Hotel has readied your room for a night you won’t forget.

Miasmata // Subterrania [October 31st, 2025 – Naturmacht Productions]

Still hawking their distinctive blend of meloblack and heavy metal, Miasmata dropped sophomore platter Subterrania on what was one of the most congested release days of 2025.⁴ In addition to the recurring influences of Windir (“Die at the Right Time”) and Iron Maiden (the intro to “Subterrania” smacks of The X Factor), Subterrania adds a dollop of thrash into the mix. Opener “Those Who Cross the Flame” struts out with a punky riff that wouldn’t be out of place on an Anthrax record, while “Full of the Devil” tastes as much like Testament or Havok as Diamond Head. The beauty of Miasmata, both on debut Unlight: Songs of Earth and Atrophy and Subterrania, is one-man mastermind Mike Wilson’s aptitude to synthesize a mighty host of influences into a unique sonic palette all his own. As Sharky noted in Unlight’s review, Miasmata has a knack for remarkable restraint. Subterrania clocks under forty minutes, layering slithery riffs upon one another in a way that propels the music in constant motion, shifting and unfolding so organically that the album slips by before you realize it’s over (an especially impressive feat considering the self-titled closer’s near fourteen-minute runtime). If you missed Miasmata’s latest on release day, go rectify that. Don’t let Subterrania get lost to the underground.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Autumnal Anomoly

夢遊病者 // РЛБ30011922⁵ [October 28th, 2025 – Self Release]

As if plucked into lucidity from amidst a hazy, proggy machination, РЛБ30011922 steps into its narrative—an exploration of a beloved figure in its creator’s life, including sound clips describing the trials through which she persisted—with an entrancing stumble. Through an understated math rock lens, tight kit rhythms with a tension-building hi-hat clashes strut against a loud and leading bass voice across 37 minutes of fluid guitar textures. Whether it’s the chunky fusion reminiscent of Hackett-era Gordian Knot, the playful rhythmic post-rock that evokes a band like toe, or the fuzzed-out punctuation that tell a prog tale as ’70s King Crimson would, 夢遊病者, also known as Sleepwalker, makes their love of sound as clear as their love of РЛБ30011922’s inspiration. In a setting this free and detailed, not a single moment of this one-long-song opus passes by without taking a moment to focus on a given performer’s escalation in the drama of the movement. Wielding short guitar solos as segues into popping double-kick trots, spoken word exposition as pedal switch-up opportunities, all leading to a crescendo of bent and bluesy expression, 夢遊病者 succeeds in more than just holding an audience captive with their jammy and heartfelt statement. РЛБ30011922, like the shorter form releases that have graced these halls before, will have you coming back time and time again to explore its sentiments, which feel both traced from a dream yet rooted in rich, earthly tone pleasures.

Saunders’ Slinky Sneaks

Enragement // Extinguish All Existence [October 31st, 2025 – Transcending Obscurity]

The back end of 2025 has thrown down some delightfully vicious, chunkified, and straightforward death metal gems, courtesy of the likes of Depravity, Glorious Depravity and Terror Corpse. Not to be discounted, Finland’s Enragement dropped their own intense slab of brutal death on fourth LP, Extinguish All Existence. Cutting with any pleasantries, Enragement get down to business, slamming through a tight, burly collection of Americanized death, keenly treading a balance between thuggish beatdowns, chest-busting blasts, slammy, pig-squealing grooves, and more traditional, though deceptively diverse brutal death fare. Despite the certifiably crushing formula deployed, there is an air of accessibility, perhaps attributed to the clean but suitably beefy production job, bludgeoning, addictive grooves and sinister currents of atmospheric melody flowing through the album’s riff-centric veins. Thrashy, straightforward bursts of fury are tempered by more technical flourishes and an impressively versatile vocal assault. The likes of Devourment, Deeds of Flesh, Dawn of Demise and Benighted are perhaps fitting reference points, however, Enragement blast their own path of uncompromisingly heavy destruction.

Stephen Brodsky // Cut to the Core Vol. 1 [October 3rd, 2025 – Pax Aeturnum]

There are a couple of ways to broach this latest solo endeavor from lovable rogue and Cave In/Mutoid Man mastermind Stephen Brodsky. Brodsky delivers refreshed interpretations of various ’90s hardcore songs, reimagined in acoustic form. Those familiar with the original compositions will likely have fun dissecting and comparing the original anthems. While others, such as myself, largely unfamiliar with the originals, can enjoy these polished takes in their reimagined form, without comparison. Over the years, I have developed a strong connection with Brodsky’s works and come to appreciate his softer, acoustic flavorings. The likes of Snapcase, Converge, Texas is the Reason, Threadbare and By the Grace of God are some of the acts covered with typical style, zest, and emotion. Brodsky’s expressive and emotive delivery showcases both a loving appreciation of the material and deeper emotional connection that bleeds through the often darker, melancholic vibes of the acoustic constructions. The collection is remarkably consistent and infectious, highlighted by Brodsky’s crisp and soulful acoustic playing and distinctive singing voice on standout cuts, including “Windows” (Snapcase), “Benchwarmer” (Lincoln), “Fissures” (By the Grace of God), “Farewell Note to This City” (Converge), and “Voice” (Sense Field).

Soul Blind // Red Sky Mourning [October 10th, 2025 – Closed Casket Activities]

Riding a familiar wave of early ’00s alt-rock/metal and ’90s grungy nostalgia, New York’s Soul Blind emerge with sophomore LP, Red Sky Mourning. Although they tread dangerously close to overt derivation of prominent influences, including Alice in Chains, Deftones, and Helmet, Soul Blind manage to just stay afloat on their own terms. The dreamy melodies, chunky alt metal riffs, and soaring, Cantrell-esque vocal melodies cultivate some earwormy hooks and fuzzy, 90s/’00s feels. Soul Blind possess a knack for writing textured, mildly sludgy, infectious rock ditties, dabbling in shoegazing atmospherics, and sturdier alt metal territories along the way. Soul Blind relish in AIC inspired earworms (“Dyno,” “Hide Your Evil”), grittier, more aggressive alt metal fare (‘Billy,’ “New York Smoke”) and airy, indie pop-rock (“Thru the Haze”). Soul Blind have work to do to stand out from their influences and develop a more unique sound and robust character. However, the signs are positive for better things to come. Red Sky Mourning is a solid throwback album and handy companion piece to the equally nostalgia-inspired album from Bleed earlier in the year.

The post Stuck in the Filter: October 2025’s Angry Misses appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Desprins is transportive not simply as a continuation of Clouds’ endless journey of despair, but as an extension of it. Heavier and simultaneously more reflective than Despǎrțire, it channels the group’s black, choked funeral doom through a spacious synth veil recalling their earliest material, but now more confidently and atmospherically woven. The duality between the heaviest and gentlest aspects—a tension Clouds have always experimented with—is sharpened. The grittiness of the metal, the plaintiveness of the singing, and airiness of the acoustic instruments are more stark, but in a way that balances the musical and emotional waves of tension and release. In a limbo of atmosphere, Daniel Neagoe tells us in solemn whispers what he elsewhere expresses with pained cries and guttural roars; heavy riffs lift and drums slip away at bar’s end for a piano to take the lead; quiet softly crescendoes back on the ascent of a flute: all flow and fade inevitably out of each other.

One could argue that the congruence of Desprins’ apparently disparate musical elements owes its existence to how straightforwardly, heartbreakingly beautiful the melodies thus forged are. Whether first announced by a flute (“Disguise”), a piano (“Unanswered”), synth (“Life Becomes Lifeless”) or a guitar (“Chain Me,” “Chasing Ghosts”), all players pull on the thread of the theme before long. The chasms that come from marrying guitar chords with flute (“Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Forge Another Nightmare”), and opening out to stripped-back synth and apathetic cleans, when you can hear every touch on the keys and feel the impact of every drumbeat, are profound musically and emotionally. These are the kinds of passages designed for wistful staring into the middle distance, whose pathos is so acute, it’s almost unfair. “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Chain Me,” and the finale of “Chasing Ghosts” are especially potent. With a seemingly more sparse soundscape, they achieve what Shape of Despair do with a more grandiose one. I am, admittedly, a crybaby, but Clouds’ ability to bring me to tears in a more melancholic frame of mind is something I hold in high esteem.

Perhaps more so than before, Clouds’ latest incarnation is something that either really works for you or really doesn’t. I’m obviously in the former camp. Like other funeral doom acts, and analogously dolorous music, the portal of sadness they create is effective only insofar as it can pull its listener in. Desprins sees a doubling-down on everything that might make Clouds hard to listen to—the misery, the polarity between the crushing and uplifting—but its execution only makes this project more unique and more uniquely captivating.

Tracks to Check Out: ”Disguise,” “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Forge Another Nightmare,” “Chasing Ghosts.”

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We tend to use the word cavernous a lot when describing death-doom, but the very compositions of Dreaming Delusion evoke an actual cave. This is particularly true of the guitarwork. Solitary notes and arpeggios trickle like drips of water from stalactites (“An Eternity of Complete Acquiescence”). The jagged death-doom surfaces melt into melodies that are smooth as the glassy surface of a subterranean lake (“Luminary Dissolution”). The lush yet explosive guitar solo midway through “Dreaming Delusion” hits like a sudden burst of sunlight after a rockfall, reminiscent of the fretwork in Worm’s Foreverglade. The sum total could very well be a sibling of Dream Unending’s dreamy despondency.

Yet, unlike Dream Unending, Gloombound seeks to crush the listener’s spirits just as much as their eardrums. Dreaming Delusion tantalizingly oscillates between despair and hope. The two vocalists, Mina Halvorsen and Emma Theneus Sønstebø, form a twisted, echoing call and response before the music slips into a psychedelic pool of keys and fretless bass (“At the Precipice to Longinquity”). These quieter, contemplative moments are crucial beyond merely adding beauty. Far from a meaningless acoustic guitar interlude, “Salvation” is instead a welcome respite from the psychic assault, for which the listener is punished more intensely by the rattling riffs and growls of “Luminary Dissolution.” Over the course of 44 minutes, the hope for escape gradually drowns, giving way to anguish and finally blossoming into serene acceptance during the final notes of concluding track “Dreaming Delusion.”

Dreaming Delusion is as psychological as it is emotive. It truly feels like the mental unraveling of a soul trapped in a metaphorical cave. Every element of the instrumentation, from the guitar structure to the haunting organs to the fretless bass, combine to create a rich sound that is somehow both full and cavernous. The vocals are both oppressive and harrowing, with lots of variation and expressiveness. I’m impressed by how mature Gloombound sounds in both songwriting and performance on their first attempt. What do you do when your mind betrays you? Dreaming Delusion offers no answers, only catharsis.

Tracks to Check Out: “An Eternity of Complete Acquiescence,” “Dreaming Delusion”

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While the premise of a 48-minute funeral doom song brings to mind other ambitious projects from Bell Witch and Oak, Doubtsower’s The Past Melts Away with a Sneer turns out to be one weird beast. Doubtsower isn’t exactly a funeral doom band, but an experimental doom band. Strangis keeps his one song’s tempo slow—funeral doom slow—yet it has much more in common with the avant-garde music of John Cage than My Dying Bride or Esoteric. It makes use of syncopated riffs that cut short and disorient listeners, as well as some unusual noises, such as static scratches and the clicking and rattling of ratchets. “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” also makes use of silences, though they’re not as lengthy as “4’33,” largely as a transitional tool. This use of odd sounds, silent moments, and suspenseful repetitions of short riffs creates an unsettling mood early on, and with the mix of sludge, I couldn’t help but think of experimental sludge/horror/doom outfit When the Deadbolt Breaks.

Over the course of its 48 minutes, The Past Melts Away with a Sneer is an ever-shifting amalgamation of styles, an amorphic blob that somehow holds everything together as a cohesive whole. Sounds often shift minute-by-minute despite the glacial pacing. While the early goings have the John Cage thing going, at the 8-minute mark, the track breaks out into the one segment that sounds like traditional funeral doom, with plodding drum beats, crushing guitars, and a low, harsh growl. Yet just as you think this is the direction it’s going, the song goes silent and then shifts into a new form. The extensive use of silence and light droning makes the sudden bursts of energy peppered throughout all the more striking. About 20 minutes in, “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” morphs into industrial dance, snapping you awake and commanding your body to move. The song morphs yet again, this time into something hopeful and poppy, with light, Weezer-like strums. However, even this segment doesn’t last long, and somehow Strangis is able to convince us that these disparate sounds all form one coherent tune.

It’s pretty impressive how “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” is able to remain engaging for its entire run, but some moments of repetition do derail portions of the track. This is most egregious at 29 minutes as Doubtsower transitions into a lengthy portion of sludge/doom. Throughout this approximately eight-minute segment, there’s a consistent, repetitive riff that grows tiresome over time. Still, the song rights itself for the finale with the return of a catchy piano/synth melody from the beginning. As this melody begins to fade into silence and lulls you into a sense of closure, the track gains a second wind and hurls forth an energetic set of industrial riffs and blast beats. There’s an unpredictability that catches you off guard and keeps the record fresh.

If the album I described above sounds like a nightmare, that’s the whole point. It’s meant to be a “disorienting descent into a nihilistic free-for-all,” and Strangis succeeds in making that vision come to fruition. It may not always be easy listening, but it’s rarely boring. Having spent some time with the prior Doubtsower records, this one stands out as Strangis’s most engaging and best-written. The Past Melts Away with a Sneer has caused me to question my usually negative relationship with experimental metal. It has left me feeling disoriented, but in a good way, and it’s an experience that I recommend for the curious and lovers of the weird.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

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The Descent of Mortals Past is a concept album focused on six mythological figures and their unfortunate adventures to the underworld. With themes based in the classics, and even some lyrics in Latin, it should be no surprise that Tempestuous Fall takes a classical approach to the music. “Theseus – Encased in the Stones of Hades” opens with some gorgeous, serene strings before adding on the usual funeral doom trappings of a heavy guitar and glacial pacing. You’ll also hear the melancholic tinkling of piano keys on songs like “Heracles – Dark is the Home of the Underworld,” showing off Pater’s versatility and ingenuity. It’s remarkable the way he melds these classical elements with doom guitars and growls to create lush, hooky funeral doom. “Psyche – Temptation of the Divine” goes all out, bringing in church organs, choral chants and hums, and operatic vocals from guest singer Alice Corvinus (Swords of Dis). This beautiful tune provides such an enticing melody you might follow it to the gates of Hades.

Of course, on the classics you don’t hear singers using demonic growls, but Tempestuous Fall might make them rethink that choice. Pater takes a My Dying Bride approach—alternating between low growls and cleans. He may not be as powerful as Aaron Stainthorpe, but he’s still effective. His growls contrast with the classical melodies and deliver the lyrics poetically, while his cleans provide memorable choruses that make you want to sing along. When the heavy guitars first join the strings on “Theseus…,” it’s a shock to the system like taking the polar plunge in nothing but your underpants. But they add a darkness and melancholy that’s fitting for doomed trips to the underworld. The production is a bit of a let-down, however, as the guitars take on a buzzy quality rather than the muscle of Evoken. Yet there is a charm to this raw, lo-fi quality that takes me back to the earlier Opeth records like Morningrise.

The back half of The Descent of Mortals Past has some unfortunate inconsistencies that keep it from matching the fantastic first half. None of these songs are bad, just different. The first is “Ulysses – Requiem of the Sea,” a doom cover of Mozart’s “Lacrimosa.” It’s a very cool track, but it also feels unoriginal, especially since it is among the most played classical tunes in modern pop culture—almost to the level of parody. Similarly, “Orpheus – In Dark Deathly Grey” is also quite good, but its focus on acoustics makes it sound more at home on a Dolven record than a symphonic funeral doom set. The finale, “Aeneas – Guide Me Home,” is a return to form that fits in much better with the front half. Like these earlier songs, it has strings, doom, and some melodic leads and cleans that end the LP on an uplifting note. Yet, being the longest tune at eleven minutes, it’s the only one that feels like it drags on due to too much repetition. Individually, the songs on the back half are solid and probably keep the record from sounding stale, yet they also break a spell the first half weaves.

While it doesn’t quite reach the level of last week’s Oromet, Tempestuous Fall has written another worthy platter of funeral doom for 2025. With how The Descent of Mortals Past sounds, it is understandable why Pater wanted to return to this funeral doom project after a thirteen-year hiatus. He has an ear for epic yarns, and his injection of doom adds gravity to the classics. I just hope that he doesn’t wait another thirteen years to release the next one.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

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The Sinking Isle brings back the same formula found on Oromet—one 20-minute song followed by two songs just over 10 minutes each—but layered with more complexity. The music is at once serene and meditative, as evidenced by the opening sounds of rainfall and lightly plucked acoustics on “Hollow Dominion.” As the song continues, there’s a sense of dueling moods between despair and hope. Oromet conveys these moods through contrasting guitar tones: the heavy, dark tone of the bass on the one hand, and the up-tuned guitar melodies on the other. As “Hollow Dominion” moves on from the natural sounds of rainfall to the plodding of the guitar and bass, a sense of sorrow pervades. Minutes later, guitarist Dan Aguilar plays a more uplifting tone that echoes the hopeful tunes of Counting Skies rather than the weighty riffs of fellow funeral doomsters Godthrymm. From the desolation of nature—the “sinking” isle, the “hollow” dominion, the “forsaken” tarn—somehow emerges a feeling of hope, maybe healing.

While all aspects of The Sinking Isle work, I find the drumming by Patrick Hills particularly arresting. Funeral doom typically features plodding beats, as if matching the power and pace of a giant’s gait. That’s there on The Sinking Isle, but there’s also more. Hills sometimes plays sudden bursts of staccato blasts, as if trying to encourage a brisk march. These beats impress a sense of constant action, as if something is trying to break free. Eleven minutes into “Hollow Dominion,” Hills surprises with war-like drum blasts that sound reminiscent of machine gun fire from a World War II film. The war-sounding drums return on “Marathon,” but this time with the cadence and feel of cannon fire. These moments contain a surreal violence, and they always precede periods of tranquility, lulls in the onslaught of guitars and growls. While the guitar melodies are mesmerizing, the drums demand you pay even closer attention.

The paradoxes that pervade The Sinking Isle help make it such a compelling listen. The most obvious paradox is that between despair and hope. There are also, as described above, moments of violence and moments of serenity. Another paradox is one between realism and fantasy. The guitars and drumming provide grounding, placing us somewhere in the realm of the real, but then there are periods of synths that sound like something out of a sci-fi/fantasy world. Despite the snail’s pace, Oromet keeps you on your toes, keeps you wondering and guessing at the puzzle the music weaves. Moods shift from peace to sorrow, from violence to hope. Yet because it is funeral doom, these moods take time to develop before shifting to the next. The Sinking Isle meditates deeply on these themes and lulls you with its lush soundscapes. By the closing minutes of “Forsaken Tarn,” the mix of sorrow and hope that has dominated the record reveals a sense of beauty in the loneliness and desolation the music conveys. It’s an astonishing feat.

The Sinking Isle fell into my hands at a hectic time in my life, and it has served as a healing balm. It is a meditation on loss, on things falling apart, on loneliness. But the lightness of the melodies ensures these dark feelings never overwhelm. As monumental as Oromet’s debut was, this one is a step forward thematically and musically. It reinvents what funeral doom can be—not just a crushing sense of sorrow, but a genre that can raise your spirits as well. It leaves me hopeful for what Oromet can achieve in the future.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hypaethral Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

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Nearly 10-minute opener “Matins” isn’t what I would call a soft intro to the Evoken experience. It’s eerie, ominous funeral noise with heavy, drawn-out doom riffs, cavernous death croaks, and nerve-jangled synths, but as the monster shambles forward, more melodic touches emerge from the miasma. Sad, forlorn piano keys twinkle in that My Dying Bride way, and a vaguely Gothic mist swirls below the heavier assault. Sudden upheavals of blast beats and trem riffs jumpstart the energy, and tempos are toyed with just enough to keep things from becoming a faceless mush of doom plod. The package is what Evoken have done before, and it isn’t showing new textures so much as moving established genre pieces around on the board. The forlorn guitar lines and solos ache with emotion, and a feeling of suffocating hopelessness is maintained throughout. Is it a chore to get through? That will depend on how well you stomach funeral doom, but even for a fan like me, it does feel a bit long by the end. “Lauds” is another 10-minute death march, but a bit more “urgent” in its pacing, with more emphasis on force and less on atmosphere and nuance. The dramatic spoken word bits can be a take-it-or-leave-it element, but the riffs are meaty and heavy, and there’s a sense of danger here instead of just grief. It’s got genuinely gripping moments, and the vaguely liturgical feel of the synths and ghostly choirs is a nifty touch, but Evoken drag segments out past the point of usefulness with resultingly diminishing returns.

For my tastes, “None” is the album highlight. Though typically slow to get locked into gear, once there, you’re greeted with gripping death and black vocals and a rising intensity that feels like it’s on the highway to Hell. There’s real menace here, though restraint and leaden pacing are still the watchwords. The extra weight from the riffs helps keep attention, though Evoken still tests your patience with stretched-out segments of minimal action. Closer “Compline” dives deeper into classic doom and the salad days of My Dying Bride and Anathema with mostly positive results. I especially like the banged upon piano keys, which hint at something disturbing. The big obstacle across Mendacium is the way Evoken build their long-form compositions. They can often feel flat and undynamic, even by funeral doom standards. The tracks with the most routine tempo shifts work best, but even they feel 2-3 minutes too long. This isn’t a new issue for the band, but it seems to have become more pronounced starting on Hypnagogia. There are long segments that could appear on a new age meditation album, where you can sit and zone out to the astral plane. That’s fine, but I don’t want lots of that in my funeral doom.

John Paradiso and Chris Molinari offer a fair amount of heavy doom riffs, and there are plenty of plaintive harmonies that speak of melancholy and despair. They aren’t the most dynamic riff authors out there, but they know how to set a mood and build atmosphere. Paradiso’s vocals are effective, his death roars booming and menacing and his evil blackened cackles sounding suitably demonic. I’m not a fan of the spoken word bits, but that’s a genre-wide issue and a personal preference. Vince Verkay does a lot on the kit when let off his leash by the funerary slogging. He’s one of the bright spots here, and I find my attention drawn to his playing frequently.

Evoken are pros at this style of doom, and Mendacium is solid, competent funeral doom with some writing snags that take it down a few notches in effectiveness. Too many moments evoke spa time, sitting with cucumber slices on my eyes rather than sobbing inconsolably at a loved one’s grave. I need less spa, more funeral. This may be one of the most restrained things to ever come out of New Jersey, and that’s not a selling point for Yours Steely. Still, if the mood is right, this could lull you into an early grave. A muted endorsement.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore
Websites: evokenofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/evokenhell | instagram.com/evoken_doom_official
Releases Worldwide: October 17th, 2025

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