2024’s Doom Rules Eternally introduced founding member Kostas Salodmidis’ new project to the world and established Distorted Reflection’s core of doom. Combining Candlemass riffs with Sorcerer drama and a touch of Sorrows Path shred, that core carries over unchanged into Doom Zone. Kostas’ beefy riffs and screaming solos remain as present as ever, and so does his shaky baritone croon. Vangelis gains greater presence with his bass here, which is a welcome improvement over the debut, burbling in lockstep with riffs and offering counterpoint during solo breaks. Filling out the lineup, Thomas Zen pounds the skins with a swinging stomp that suits this doom-laden material like a fitted suit, classy and reigned into the pocket at all times. It might not be the most exciting or unique formula, but it works.

Unfortunately, Doom Zone lacks the one thing that made Doom Rules Eternally worth covering: charm. Doom Zone isn’t completely soulless, but its flaws dominate my experience, leaving very little room for Distorted Reflection’s earnest delivery and competent riffcraft to shine. Evident from the onset of opener “3000 A.D.” and unrelenting throughout the runtime, Kostas’ vocals conspire to distract and detract at almost every opportunity. Unstable vibrato, strained upper range¹, abysmal growls and repetitive melodic phrasing make tracks like “My Second Father,” “Gates of Paranoia,” “Tower of Dreams,” and “Morbid Reality” difficult to enjoy. Doom Zone’s songwriting is also noticeably weaker, suffering from a deeply repetitive structure and monotonous pacing that inevitably stalls any momentum individual elements (riffs, solos, choruses) initiate (“Asphyxiation,” “The Final Attempt”). It’s a good thing, then, that Doom Zone is short, clocking in at a responsible 39 minutes. Even so, it drags such that I routinely check my playback to see if I’m close to the end.

This is a shame, because Distorted Reflection are gifted musicians with great potential. Kostas filled Doom Zone with an arsenal of chunky riffs and high-octane solos (“3000 A.D.,” “Certain Death,” “Diminished,” “Morbid Reality”), many of which aptly reference the great works of the doom metal scene, though perhaps a bit too closely. Zen’s drumming is a perfect fit for this sound as well, and Vangelis’ bass noodling is a delight to hear with such clarity. More importantly, everybody understands their role and can play their instruments well enough to attract the spotlight without having to force it away from someone else. The overarching problem ultimately lies in the songwriting. With the exception of a few solid tracks at the album’s midpoint, like “Diminished,” Doom Zone wholly lacks the dynamics, the creativity, and the voice it needs to succeed.

Charm can go a long way to make me like something I would otherwise pass up. Distorted Reflection almost instantaneously lost the charm they once had after my time with Doom Zone. Unmemorable, uninspired, and at times downright irritating, Doom Zone fails to exhibit Distorted Reflection’s strengths in a way that overshadows their flaws. Instead, it accomplished the inverse. Flaws glare, making the process of picking out highlights a grind, and the experience of enjoying the good a chore. I still have hope that they can turn it around with album three, but as it stands, my recommendation is to leave Doom Zone behind while you traverse the doom zone.

Rating: Bad
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Iron Shield Records
Websites: distortedreflectiondoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/distortedreflectiondoom
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

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As the opening notes of “Newfound Respect” hit, Buried Under the Weight of Reason reveals itself as a blunter, more dynamic beast than its predecessors. The guitars have thickened into a sludge/doom/stoner hybrid of epic proportions, blending Boss Keloid-like phrasing (“Rot to Ruin,” “Newfound Respect”) with Baronessian textures (“Twelve Seasons,” “Law Unto Myself”) and even the occasional djenty chug (“Cut Your Teeth,” “Rot to Ruin”). Huge, low-slung riffs drive Desert Storm’s definitive songwriting pattern. Songs lurch between stampeding verses and clean, crestfallen bridges, often featuring playful bass flourishes and blues refrains. Elliot Cole’s drums hit with massive, tom-forward authority. Each booming strike fuses with new bassist Andrew Keyzor (ex-Beard of Zeuss), carving deep pockets on tracks like “Woodsman” and “Shamanic Echoes.” By the time the first few tracks roll by, it’s obvious that Buried Under the Weight of Reason finds Desert Storm operating squarely in their wheelhouse.

Desert Storm commits to a single mission on Buried Under the Weight of Reason: delivering crushing, irresistible grooves from start to finish. Though lesser bands often bail on a great hook too early, Desert Storm has the confidence to lock in and let a sequence breathe like a fine wine, avoiding the common pitfall of over-complicating a riff before it reaches its zenith. Their controlled songwriting approach shines on the “Woodsman” and “Shamanic Echoes,” where the group adds nuance through minimalist, hook-heavy phrasing that feels both exciting and fresh. “Rot to Ruin” and “Cut Your Teeth” utilize spacious, bluesy transitions to reset the listener’s palate before building toward massive payoffs. The latter succeeds because the quartet holds back, patiently waiting for the precise moment to strike with a mammoth closing riff. The album closes with “Twelve Seasons,” a standout track that balances technical complexity and eccentricity with Desert Storm’s conviction to mine every ounce of a groove’s energy until it runs bone-dry.

Matthew Ryan’s vocals have historically been Desert Storm’s hollow point, but on Buried Under the Weight of Reason, they arrive with a newfound polish and reliability. Hitting with a grizzled, Crowbar-like growl, Ryan provides a solid—albeit largely safe—foundation that underpins Desert Storm’s low-frequency bulk. While Ryan’s vocals struggle to elevate the plethora of high-caliber riffs, they sit comfortably in the mix, serving their purpose without overreaching. Inconsistencies surface, however, on “Woodsman,” where mechanical chanting feels like a unique angle tripped up by its own peculiarity. More jarring is “Dripback,” where Ryan’s barking cadence feels a bit too unhinged, overshadowing an otherwise great groove. Beyond the vocal performance, the compressed mix masks the finer nuances—like the cowbell on “Twelve Seasons”—and the quartet’s commitment to the almighty riff sometimes results in songs feeling overextended. While Desert Storm’s “groove-first” philosophy is surely their strength, it leads to some bloat on the record’s longer cuts (“Rot to Ruin,” “Shamanic Echoes”). Additionally, the inclusion of the interlude “Carry the Weight” feels pointless in the context of the album’s flow.

But for Desert Storm, Buried Under the Weight of Reason is a cause for celebration. By knowing and staying largely within their established limits, the group has created not only a good record, but easily their best to date. While it occasionally oversteps its bounds or struggles to maintain its momentum, the songwriting and groove are infectious enough to have every head in the club bobbing in unison. Their sharpest effort to date, with enough weight to kill an elephant, Buried Under the Weight of Reason is a damn good time and a reminder that sometimes, that’s all a record needs to be.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Heavy Psych Sounds
Websites: desertstorm.bandcamp.com/music | desertstormband.com | facebook.com/desertstormuk
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

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I’ll give Temple of Void some credit for spicing up their recipe this time out. Opener “Poison Icon” is a hard-rocking death-meets-stoner-doom meat paste that’s bright and upbeat while managing to remain pretty damn heavy. There’s a rowdy urgency to the riffs that doesn’t fit neatly into death or doom camps, and the segues into hard rock stanzas with guttural death vocals over the top remind me of various melodeath Rogga products and the recent works of Hooded Menace. It’s not the nasty Temple of Void that I long for, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. “Godless Cynic “moves into darker, more grotesque death-doom territory with riffs that slither and snake all over, and when teamed with really hostile death vocals, things feel threatening and dangerous. It’s one of the album highlights, and it reminds me of the long-forgotten, criminally underrated Dutch doom band Another Messiah, which is a win in my book. ¹ The title track is classic death-doom designed to pulverize and pummel. It does the job well, and the riffs are grisly fun as they swing from death stomp to doom plod.

Things also heat up on “A Dead Issue,” as discordant leads and eerie keyboards conspire to create an ominous, unsettling soundscape. The dreamy, ethereal guitars that weave in and out add another layer and make for a dynamic listen. The 7:41 closer “The Twin Stranger” is ferocious, with huge riffs dropping from the sky like spiked anvils. There’s enough forward momentum tank chugs to recall the glory days of Bolt Thrower and the pacing keeps the song from feeling as long as it is. Not every track is as successful at world-building, though. “Thy Mountain Eternal” attempts to cram an epic Viking metal element into the death-doom foundation, but ultimately ends up sounding more like recycled Omnium Gatherum than Ereb Altor, and at just under 7-minutes, it drags on too long. At 41-plus minutes, The Crawl is just about the ideal length for this kind of fare, and though there are moments of bloat to be found, most of the tracks are fairly fit and spry. The production gives the guitars enough raw power to intimidate, and those death vocals will shake the molars out of your head.

The Temple of Void edifice is highly reliant on the riff firepower brought to bear, and Alexander Awn and Michael Erdody bring enough explosives to flatten a small city. Yes, they dabble in outside influences, but this is a death-doom album at heart, and the bulldozing leads aim to harm. The rock, Goth, and other outside elements decorate the riffs, but they don’t replace the hammer and axe. There are many hook-tastic leads and smoking solos to absorb, and the diversity keeps things from feeling like a monolithic slog. Erdody’s large-scale death roars are highly effective, and he keeps things heavy no matter what genre the guitars decide to visit. It’s really the writing that elevates The Crawl beyond what was heard on Summoning the Slayer. This is a much more ambitious, adventurous outing, and it sounds like the band felt more confident and free to develop their sound this time out.

I came into The Crawl concerned that Temple of Void was going to evolve right into an early grave, but the material here is full of life, liberty, and the pursuit of the best bits of death and doom. There’s variety and inventiveness, but it will still flatten your ass regularly. I doubt they will ever give us another Lords of Death, but this ain’t so bad in its stead. Visit the newly renovated Temple.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Fucking STREAM!!
Label: Relapse
Websites: templeofvoid.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/templeofvoid | instagram.com/templeofvoid
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

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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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The Beauty of Obliteration demonstrates some mighty fine riff-smithing. This may be because Sleeping Giant—expanding upon the maxim that ‘two heads are better than one’—is working with three heads. The guitar Cerberus of Finnbogi Jökull, Árni Björn Björnsson, and Guðmundur Eiríksson wield an arsenal of doomy dirges (“Conqueror”), stonery shuffles (“Abysmal Flame”), and thrashy assaults (“Venom Ripper, Gorgon Blaster”). Some of these riffs even go straight to the source, boasting a Sabbathy swagger (“The Monk”). Early Mastodon certainly resonates throughout, but the guitarwork makes it clear that these Icelanders also get High on Fire. Indeed, the recurring shifts between stoner-doom and thrash, coupled with the beefy guitar tones, summon the presence of latter-day Matt Pike. But Sleeping Giant aren’t just their three-headed guitar monster; drummer Ásmundur Jóhannsson and bassist Einar Darri Einarsson hold down the low end. Einarsson in particular shines, tastefully filling up negative space with bluesy runs (“Conqueror”).

Rounding out Sleeping Giant’s lineup is vocalist Oddur Freyr Þorsteinsson, who gives The Beauty of Obliteration a death metal edge. Thusly calling the band death-doom, though, wouldn’t be accurate—’necrotic stoner-doom’ is my best attempt at describing the band’s layering of an extreme aesthetic over a mostly traditional riffing style. Þorsteinsson possesses a powerful guttural, reminding me of the low registers of Travis Ryan and Randy Blythe. He even dips into some slimy gurgling on “The Monk” as it shifts into a faster, more melodic gear. Though these gurgles provide contrast, it’s a contrast that doesn’t necessarily add to or accentuate the part. This gurgling is a microcosm of how I feel about the vocals on The Beauty of Obliteration as a whole. They are performed well and don’t overtly clash with the instrumentation, and yet I’m not sure if they are doing anything other than marking Sleeping Giant as ‘extreme.’

As a unit, Sleeping Giant have molded a debut that roves between riff styles, for better or worse. “Conqueror” and “Mobilizer of Evil” map out the terrain the rest of the album explores, showing a band comfortable with both low and high BPMs. “The Monk” gets closest to the kind of unhinged glory of early Mastodon, though its shift from doom to thrash feels a bit redundant, even at this early juncture in the album. The biggest curveball on The Beauty of Obliteration is its penultimate track, “Venom Rippers, Gorgon Blaster.” A thrash ripper under three minutes, it’s an enlivening change of pace from tracks that otherwise hover between four and nine minutes. It’s also an effective transition between the orgiastic riff-fest of “Slay the King of Hell” (my favorite track) and the closer. “Abysmal Flame” starts strong with a chunky monkey that morphs into an almost melodeath-style earworm. The sparse, feedbacky ending, however, is an underwhelming sendoff.

Their namesake may create unrealistic expectations, but Sleeping Giant has delivered the goods with their long-awaited debut. At 6 tracks in 35 minutes, The Beauty of Obliteration is a tight, well-produced package with tons of hummable riffs. Though the songwriting is by no means bad, the riffs themselves feel more noteworthy than the songs they populate. The gutturals give Sleeping Giant a different vibe than typical stoner-doom, but I hope that future outings see the vocals actively serving the songs more. If you dig giant riffs, you won’t want to sleep on these Icelanders.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V4 OR ~316 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Octopus Rising (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

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Based in Birmingham, UK, Cattle Hammer was formed by vocalist/guitarist Duncan Wilkins (Fukpig, Mistress) in 2023. He’s joined by I Cartwright on drums, J Wyles on guitar, and D Von Donovan on bass. Together, they mix a caustic brew of drone, doom, and sludge, but each track on Dark Thoughts with Lights Out has its own identity. “Gloomsower” leans stony, and Wilkins oscillates between deep roars and strangled croaks reminiscent of Weedeater. “Rotting” features short tremolos, although they don’t do much besides check the “blackened” box on the PR sheet. The ambient, noise-tinged intro to “Watchmen, Alone” caught my attention, but repetition of the vocal sample stunts its ability to build tension. Similarly, “Body Puzzle” ends on some interesting synths, but it’s a tough sell so late in the album. If you can’t tell, I’m really reaching for positives here, but there’s not a one that isn’t ultimately a disappointment.

Every time I thought Cattle Hammer might do something interesting or better texturize Dark Thoughts with Lights Out, they shrank from the occasion. The early lead guitar in “Gloomsower” is a bright change of pace amidst thick, doomy passages, but instead of playing a countermelody or variation on the theme or literally anything else, it just plays the same fucking riff in a higher register. This same-riff-different-instrument/key tactic is fairly common (“Rotting,” “Watchmen, Alone”). Organ (“Watchmen, Alone,” “Body Puzzle”) and piano (“Rotting”) make appearances, but fail to deliver anything justifying their inclusion. Static and feedback crop up frequently, but in Cattle Hammer’s hands, they are merely unpleasant and banal. While I was intrigued by the first sample² and always appreciate Sheri Moon Zombie,³ Cattle Hammer’s sample usage is ham-fisted and melodramatic. Each of these ornaments gave me hope that I might soon feel something besides boredom and frustration, but invariably, Dark Thoughts with Lights Out dashed my hopes and shuffled on.

What astounds me most on Dark Thoughts with Lights Out is how avoidable many of these blunders seem. Percussion is a little lackluster, and the instruments seem a bit compressed in the mix, leaving the vocals too far in front. These aren’t deal breakers, but playing fewer riffs—I’m being generous, calling them that—in 45 minutes than I have fingers is. Structuring the front half of a song to sound like a narrative climax with no build-up or release is (“Watchmen, Alone,” “Body Puzzle”). Rhythmic density rivaling the emptiness of space is. Ambient, feedback-laden outros enough to compile an EP is. This album is ostensibly meant to convey misery and suffering, but devoid of creativity or artistic abstraction, it misses the mark that acts like Primitive Man, The Body, or Sumac hit so well. It’s as if Cattle Hammer has crafted some misguided meta experience, in which the act of listening to the music imparts the misery normally communicated through the music itself.

If there’s one thing Cattle Hammer truly excels at, it’s squandering potential. Every criticism in this review is a place where I saw an opportunity for Dark Thoughts with Lights Out to get better, only for it to stay the course. What’s even more frustrating is that, if any one of these problems weren’t a problem, it could have at least partially salvaged the album. Amidst deeply uninteresting riffs played slow enough for inter-note naps, song constructions that fail to launch, underutilized instrumentation, an impressive lack of variation, repetition ad nauseum, and a totally unjustified runtime, Dark Thoughts with Lights Out isn’t simply unremarkable or uninteresting; it’s a literal chore to listen through. Based on the promo sheet, maybe that’s the point, but whether Cattle Hammer achieved their goal is irrelevant.⁴ Dark Thoughts with Lights Out is a bad album.

Rating: 1.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Road to Masochist
Websites: Bandcamp | Ampwall | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

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Monikered after a track from Mental Funeral, it’s unsurprising that Slaughterday establishes its soundation on the works of Autopsy. Avoiding mere clone status, though, founders Jens Finger (guitars, bass) and Bernd Reiners (drums, vocals) also line their sonic quiver with arrows laced with toxic amounts of Massacre, early Death, and Grave. After a doomy, engaging intro, Dread Emperor gets down to thrashy business as “Obliteration Crusade” comes galloping through the gates at full velocity. Showcasing the gamut of talents that Slaughterday wields, the track weaves bouts of blistering speed, salaciously solid solo work, and passages of drunken, doomy Autopsy worship into a skin-sewn tapestry of death, replete with creepy melodicism and a subtle, yet ear-wormy chorus. Finger’s bass lines pop like blood bubbles as Reiners’ brutish bashings bolster the rhythm section, aptly accompanying the man’s beastly roars, a discernibly deathly emulsion of Peter Tägtgren and Kam Lee. This opening salvo encapsulates the Dread Emperor experience, which is one of gut-wrenching goodness, proving that Slaughterday has as many musical tricks up its sleeve as Art the Clown has weapons in his kill sack.

At the heart of Dread Emperor’s success lies Slaughterday’s ability to craft truly great death metal songs. And with this talent, Finger and Reiners pay apt tribute to their deathly influences without slipping into derivative mimicry. Every time the groove settled into a swarming swing full of Autopsy swagger (“Subconscious Pandemonium,” “The Forsaken Ones”), my head was powerless to stop bobbing. While the majestic, Egyptian-tinged melodic leads and girthy, doom-laden death riffs of the title track “Dread Emperor” solidified themselves as the album highlight for yours truly. Dread Emperor also doubles down on a facet of Slaughterday’s previous efforts that, at times, was found lacking: the guitar solo. Fingers leaves no fret untouched, packing tons of excellent, melodic soloing (“Astral Carnage,” “Necrocide”) and loads of haunting lead work (“Rapture of Rot”) into Dread Emperor’s every nook and cranny. This here, boys and girls, is death metal created especially for death metallers, so if it isn’t bringing your raised fist and stank face to the yard, relinquish your fan card to AMG Headquarters.

From its near forty-minute runtime to Pär Olofsson’s ominously perfect cover art, I found little at fault with Dread Emperor. I suppose, if I had to pick at something, I’d say that many of the faster tremoloed sections tended to blend, sharing a marrow of similitude amidst Dread Emperor’s greater skeletal structure, but even that is a minor quibble. All due primarily to Slaughterday’s ability to construct compositions in such a way as to render the many inter-song shifts in style and tempo an organic strength as opposed to a stuttery distraction. Even Slaughterday’s version of Protector’s “Golem” sits comfortably at the end and fits the overall narrative of Dread Emperor well, escaping the fate of feeling tacked on, which is often the case with album-closing cover songs.

Does Slaughterday play meat-and-potatoes death metal? Sure, but this ain’t no watery soup from a can, this is stew like grandma used to make, filled with steamy hunks of fresh potato and chunks of beefy meat, swimming in an ichorous broth worth killing for. I didn’t anticipate how much fun I was going to have with Dread Emperor when I grabbed it, but it does exactly what it’s supposed to do: elicit a smile from my lips, a bang from my head, and Dio’s horns from my fist. Prime Tyme-certified death metal perfect for rotten valentines.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Testimony Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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Tarlung remains devoted to the almighty riff, but with a sound that has become increasingly less fuzzy over the years. Guitarists Rotten and Phillip Seiler deliver massive doses of ear-drum damage via swampy, thick riffs bristling with taut, chuggy muscle (“State Noise,” “Between the Earth and Moon”) and bluesy swagger (“Swans”), which serve as the bong water for most of these melodies to bubble up through. Seiler’s chesty, Akerfeldtian roars are ever-present, which, along with Marian Weibl’s beastly drum beatings, provide the excess sonic weight Tarlung has become increasingly known for. Purveyors of Crowbar, High on Fire, and Dopethrone will find warm pockets of familiarity here. Yet, Axis Mundi indeed signals a progression as Tarlung evolves its sound, introducing elements of refined psychedelia and vocal variation.

Axis Mundi takes marked steps to set itself apart from the rest of Tarlung’s catalog. With an airy, soft-strummed melody and some subdued, clean vocals to start, “Burning Out” evokes a feeling akin to lying alone in a country field, exhaling smoky clouds of organic green and staring at kaleidoscopic prisms of light as they filter through dew drops on sun-dappled daffodils. Even after the track picks up a little steam with a chugging riff that seems to build more speed than it does, and Seiler’s growls return, the warm feeling doesn’t dissipate. Follow-up “Sea of Drowned Souls” continues down an experimental path, as its mournful melodies merge with clean vocals from Thérèse Lanz and Casey Rogers of Mares of Thrace in pensive passages that keep giving me Alice in Chains vibes. Particularly effective here, too, is the vocal interplay between Seiler and Lantz as each takes brutal swipes at the mic; Lantz’s visceral, blackened screams serving as a satisfying counterpoint to Seiler’s guttural grumblings. These two tracks really stood out to me and make up the core of my overall Axis Mundi experience.

Axis Mundi represents Tarlung operating at its most mature. Beautifully simplistic and wildly effective songwriting that, with repeated spins, did nothing but chip away at my critiques. What first seemed like a lagging back half continued to sink its claws into my brain. Before long, I was looking forward to the laid-back melodies of “Full Circle,” where Seiler channels his inner Matt Pike (High on Fire) to significant effect, and anticipating the very Crowbaric pounding of album closer “Axis Mundi.” Running just thirty-eight minutes, it became easier and easier to hit that replay button every time. There are moments when the melodies seem to trip over themselves, like on the bluesy main riff of “Swans,” which gets a bit muddy at times, but not so much that it took me out of the experience.

Fans of Tarlung are in for a special surprise, and if you’re just now getting to the party, Axis Mundi is an excellent place to get started. I hadn’t spent any time at all with this power trio before writing this review, and I can wholeheartedly say Tarlung has won me over. After a more than cursory dive into the bands previous efforts I can say without a doubt, Axis Mundi is the best Tarlung album to date. A slow-paced ride that delivers riffs for days and melodies that settle in, wrapping you in blankets of crushing warmth for one helluva satisfying experience.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

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Rather than a stoned cruise through the desert, Ritual Arcana play a raucous, bewitching blend of hard slugging doom and occult-tinged rock, fit to appeal to fans of nostalgiacore retro rock, Wino’s various projects, and other smoky doom persuasions such as Sabbath Assembly, Jess and the Ancient Ones, Castle Rat, and Witch Mountain. Imbued with dark, alluring vibes and a riff rumbling bluesy edge, Ritual Arcana features the requisite doom-laden heft and freewheeling grooves to accompany songs that rock and rumble with a sprightly bounce. The jammy, psych-drenched swagger leans as much into heavy rock and stoner realms as it does dour doom. LuckyFree’s beguiling pipes boast an undeniable appeal and hooky charm. And while perhaps not the most unique female vocalist in the biz, she holds her own and supplies plenty of earwormy hooks atop a solid foundation of hefty rhythms and fat, swaggering riffs.

Right off the bat, the opening title track lays a groovy path, riding a thick, simplistic central groove and catchy vocal flow, enlivened by Wino’s easy-on-the-ear lead work. Similarly, bluesy, hard-rocking fare and juicy hooks feature prominently (“Free Like a Pirate,” “Summon the Wheel,” “Road Burnt,” and “Judgment XX”) to fun effect, nestled between doomy, heavier fare. These are solid examples of Ritual Arcana’s formula; however, the most interesting material leans deeper into their doomy roots. “Mistress of Change” possesses an ominous atmosphere and lurching, drunken gait, highlighted by LuckyFree’s slightly unhinged vocal performance. Similarly impactful bursts of rugged doom, molten riffage, and rawer vocal turns feature on the highlight-worthy “Subtle Fruits.” There are no blatant weak points, just certain tunes that hit harder and stick for longer. Ritual Arcana do the bluesy hard rock stuff well, yet it’s the brooding doomier forays that sustain greater interest.

What they perhaps lack in innovation, Ritual Arcana compensate through lean and tightly wound songwriting, solid musicianship, and familiar yet delightfully catchy songs. Wino is an iconic metal legend, and even minus the gruff, well-lived presence of his vocals, he makes a punchy impact through his accomplished guitar work. The well-worn riffs carry a fresh, catchy edge; however, it’s the flashier leads and psych-drenched embellishments that complement the no-frills riffs. And as cool and effective as LuckyFree’s vocals are, it is a tad disappointing that Wino’s grizzled voice doesn’t pop up in cameo or dueting form. Meanwhile, the production may be a little clean for some tastes; however, it’s easy to appreciate the clarity and chunky tones.

Ritual Arcana is a likable, gratifyingly catchy exercise in seasoned doom and psych-riddled occult rock from experienced hands. It plays things a little too safe at times, and as enjoyable and undeniably infectious as the songwriting on this debut platter proves to be, it rarely hits truly outstanding levels. Regardless, this style of doom/occult rock has an infectious charm, and when in the hands of veterans and a legend like Wino, it is difficult to fuck up. Ritual Arcana is a cool example of the saturated style and perhaps a precursor to greater things to come from this unit.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 304 kbps mp3
Label: Heavy Psych Sounds | Bandcamp
Websites: facebook.com/ritualarcana
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

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Where All of Worth picks up where Abysmal Misfortune left off. Opening with a series of gongs, the title track’s Mournful Congregation of Peaceville Three-inspired languid melodies and somber refrains surrender to a plodding, tectonic drum beat. Though Malignant Aura could have merged this intro into the subsequent track, it successfully anchors the record’s slow-burn atmosphere. Elsewhere, “The Pathetic Festival” conjures the macabre spirit of Hooded Menace and OSDM legends Incantation. It stands out as the tighter and faster track of the bunch, while the remaining three tracks are massive—mostly exceeding ten minutes—weaving funeral doom’s glacial phrasing with incendiary OSDM grit. Malignant Aura’s strength lies in the interplay between Robertson’s articulate drumming and Smith’s visceral vocal performance. Smith’s cesspool of gutturals, gurgles (“Beneath a Crown of Anguish,” “The Pathetic Festival”), chokes (“The Pathetic Festival”), and “bleghs” (“Languishing in the Perpetual Mire”) are phenomenal, with Clark’s wailing guitars, titanic riffs, and processional melodies guiding his vocals through shifting and swirling movements.

I usually groan when I see double-digit track times, but Malignant Aura navigates Where All of Worth’s unabridged structure with ease by prioritizing flow over sheer density. Treating length as a function of tension and release rather than piling on riffs, they rely on intentional pacing, dynamic restraint, and Robertson’s percussion-led transitions to maintain intrigue and momentum. Whether it’s through violent double bass ruptures (“Languishing in the Perpetual Mire”), sepulchral marches (“The Pathetic Festival”), or cascading, symmetrical fills (“An Abhorrent Path to Providence”), Robertson’s drumming ensures that Where All of Worth’s transitions never feel foreign or accidental. This makes the eventual catastrophic payoffs feel earned rather than obligatory, a key reason each song’s arc feels purposeful. Motifs recur, but they return with altered tempos, denser drumming, or heightened aggression. The constant push and pull between crawling doom passages with repeated fake-outs and sudden bursts of deathly speed prevents stagnation in “Languishing in the Perpetual Mire.” Additionally, the formidable “Beneath a Crown of Anguish” never feels bloated thanks to later sections reframing what came before. “Beneath a Crown of Anguish’s” finale particularly nails this approach, briefly pausing for a moment before slamming back in at halftime for a decisive, memorable ending. Overall, Malignant Aura’s songwriting either deepens atmosphere, increases tension, or reshapes ideas, making their sprawling compositions feel immersive rather than exhausting.

Malignant Aura has undoubtedly sharpened their funerary tools on Where All of Worth, yet the songwriting doesn’t always stick the landing. “An Abhorrent Path to Providence,” for instance, lacks the peaks and valleys of other songs, succumbing to an atmospheric plateau that reveals what happens when runtime exceeds inspiration. The track’s midsection outstays its welcome and, despite the quality of Robertson’s kit work, the track feels unnecessarily distended. Moreover, a solo that fails to echo the song’s morose essence hampers the finale of “Languishing in the Perpetual Mire.” Though a far more evocative lead follows—nearly masking the previous stumble—the song awkwardly dissolves into a fade-out. It’s a clumsy end for a song that deserved a far more monolithic conclusion. However, while these compositional fractures exist, the songwriting remains sharp enough to sustain the weight of Where All of Worth’s expansive crusade.

As my colleagues in the staff lounge can attest, Where All of Worth’s cold embrace initially enthralled me—frankly, I wouldn’t shut up about it. I was certain it would drag the Score Counter into the lifeless muck with ease. Yet, reviewing has a way of introducing irony. Upon further listening, the record leveled out more than I anticipated, causing it to just miss greatness. Nonetheless, Malignant Aura has crafted an undeniable winner here, offering a wealth of grim, doom-laden, and morbid textures that will more than satisfy doom and death fans alike.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Memento Mori | Grindhead/Primitive Moth
Websites: malignant-aura.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MalignantAura
Releases Worldwide: January 26th, 2026

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