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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Granted, the concept of an album where each song tells a story about a distinctive demonic entity with its own unique “physical traits” and “specific weapon” is extremely silly, yet Killerdemons proves to be a catchy and cool affair. Borrower claim Motörhead, Judas Priest, and Dio as their main influences, and they write spare, riff-tastic tunes in their honor. The guitars carry much more heft than their influences, however, with enough reverb to take tunes dangerously close to stoner territory a lá High on Fire and Black Sabbath. This marriage between speed and stoner proves effective. “El Degollador” oscillates between lightning-fast, “Ace of Spades”-inspired riffs and slower, “War Pigs”-style stoner riffs in a performance that’s sure to give you whiplash. Taking a cue from AC/DC, Borrower keeps their song structures simple yet catchy. The rollicking “Stay Alive” best demonstrates this virtue with crisp songwriting and energetic pacing. Each track has distinctive riffs that are far more powerful than the demons it conjures.

In the eight years since their 2018 EP, A Plague Chapter…, Borrower has vastly improved their sound and instrumental prowess. The two Matteos have played a major role in this transformation. Marini’s fuzzy guitar tone adds heft where the EP’s guitars sounded tinny. His blending of Motörhead-style riffcrafting with the density of High on Fire and Mastodon adds an extra oomph to tracks like “Der Todessoldat” and “Tough Fight.” Marzo’s bass takes a commanding presence as well. He adds depth and backbone to the music, making his presence especially felt on the slower moments of “Knocking on the Coffins.” Formoso takes a restrained approach behind the kit, occasionally blasting the cymbals (“Dream on Fire”), but mostly setting the pace with an effective simplicity. The wild card of the group is vocalist Ratano. He seemingly channels Lemmy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Fozzie Bear in a truly strange, yet somehow endearing performance. His Italian accent, which drags out the words “kee-ler dee-mons” during the chorus of “Killerdemons,” adds a level of camp that contributes to the goofy fun.

While Borrower keeps Killerdemons to a concise 36 minutes, the record does falter on the two songs that stray from the 3-4 minute range. The first, “Knocking on the Coffins,” has some memorable riffs, including a cool, old school solo, but at over five minutes, it drags on a bit too long. Positioned between the album’s two best tracks, it also proves to be a major momentum killer. The biggest sore thumb, however, is the six-plus minute finale, “A Chaos Vortex.” Not only does it lack memorable riffs, but it falters in its final two minutes as the band sorely misjudges when to best wrap it up. Trimming 2-3 minutes from each of these songs would have immensely improved the album’s otherwise incredible pacing.

As I established last month, metal tends to invite some weird characters, and the killer demon universe created here is certainly an odd one. But that’s also what makes metal so much fun. Bands feel free to try out their off-the-wall ideas, from literary– or video game-inspired themes to the creation of fantasy or sci-fi realms. And sometimes these ideas actually work. Borrower finally sees through their vision, or at least the start of it, and presents it in such a catchy, cool way. I love to see original ideas performed with such care and passion, and I hope these guys continue to cultivate their ideas and musical talents.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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I’m going to come out and say it. Arch Enemy has done untold damage to female-fronted metal bands. While their influence is undeniable, every iteration of the band has featured monotone vocals, cringe-inducing lyrics, and leather-clad frontwomen. As a woman, I have no issue with these things in a vacuum, but in the larger music sphere, they created simultaneously high and absurdly low standards. Requiring frontwomen to be stereotypically hot, thin, and sport bright hair, while also plummeting standards on the musical side with their milquetoast melodeath slop. This is an ill omen for North Carolina’s Blackwater Drowning, seemingly following in Arch Enemy’s footsteps on a surface level, but do they make the same mistakes from a musical perspective, or are they influenced only in aesthetics?

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On Hiraeth, Abstracted demonstrates a thorough understanding of contemporary progressive metal styles and integrates them into something all their own. The band’s main sound is a djent-fueled take on modern progressive death metal, closest to early-era The Contortionist in its blending of odd-meter riffery, post-rock-influenced textures, and an enticing contrast between melancholic space-age cleans and technical 6-string chugs. Abstracted balance this with more traditional Haken-esque classic prog turnarounds and jazz breaks (“Sirens”), fast-paced Between the Buried and Me riff marathons (“To Quench This Insatiable Thirst”), and harmonic nuance within darker moments à la Persefone (“Requiem”). The result is a varied and dynamic set of tunes that glide effortlessly between impressive riff-fueled aggression and cathartic melodies. Songs like “The Utter End” and “The Barren Grave of God” demonstrate the band’s ability to naturally move from strength to strength without missing a beat, unfolding across expansive guitar arpeggios, delightfully off-kilter breakdowns, virtuosic solos, and powerful musical climaxes.

This level of fluidity and genre cohesion on Hiraeth is only made possible by the high level of musicianship Abstracted display. Guitarists José Consani and Leonardo Brito give varied performances that successfully meld more djent-centric playing with classic death metal sensibilities and demonstrate keen melodic ears with dense jazz chords and powerful lead lines. Drummer Fernando Pollen blends Latin grooves with acrobatic modern metal flourishes, and the production’s more natural drum tone allows his dynamic nuances to guide several songs. ² On bass, Riverton Alves turns in a thoroughly warm and jazz-based, Cynic-flavored performance that shines during quieter moments, while keyboardist Carol Lynn supplies plenty of atmosphere through subtle synth textures and steps to the forefront a few times with quirky, but effective synth lines reminiscent of Diego Tejeida. Together, this ensemble breathes plenty of life into a style of music that can often feel over-processed, and their performances help to unify this collection of songs into a cohesive whole.The only elements of Hiraeth that aren’t immediately impressive are the vocals and the production. Rosano Pedro Matiussi delivers an impassioned performance, and his vocal lines often fit the songs well, but his clean singing lacks a certain impact or personality to elevate good moments into great ones. Initially, this was enough to deter me from really digging deeper and appreciating the songcraft on display, but the singing grew on me quite a bit with time. Similarly, his death growls are solid, if not one-note, and they feel like they exist more so to fill a role than to accent particular sections. This could potentially be the production’s fault, as Hiraeth sounds generally good and more natural than the swaths of overproduced modern prog ³ but lacks a certain sonic clarity, occasionally making especially dense sections harder to parse. There’s a distinct lack of reverb on the harsh vocals, and I can’t help but wonder if a stronger mix could fit the layered clean singing a bit better. Matiussi’s vocals are far from bad, and there are parts like the somber intro to “Requiem” where he sounds great, but when everything else is operating at such a high level, they feel like a weak link.

With Hiraeth, Abstracted have delivered an impressive piece of modern progressive metal. This record is a grower for sure, with dense and layered compositions often revealing their clever construction and intense interconnectedness only after repeated spins. Even if the vocals leave a little to be desired, the Brazilian group has successfully combined the sounds of several of the best modern prog bands into something exciting and nuanced.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: abstractedmetal.bandcamp | facebook.com/abstractedbr
Releases Worldwide: February 20, 2026

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Dusk have been at it for a while now, toiling in the shadows to scrape together an acid concoction of abrasive noise and screaming menace. But who hasn’t? Newcomers to the blog, or the metal scene in general, may not have enjoyed of the deep sadness of early-2010s underground metal, when the promo pit burst with bedroom black metal from a seemingly inexhaustible trove of men who owned a guitar and made up for their lack of talent, and bandmates, and vision by pure profligacy. Though we’re now blessed with far more in the way of interesting music, the Vardans of the world are still out there, now and again transformed by their toil into something worthy of remark. And the crisp mashup of industrial synthesizers and black metal intensity has been worth a listen for the last decade in which Dusk have operated. Now it’s worth a few more.

Bunker is the Costa Rican band’s seventh record, and sixth this decade, masterminded by the eponymous producer who has had the Dusk aesthetic down to a science; enveloping low-end rumbles, echoing synths, spares instructions for his attendant vocalist and string-slingers, and a grim sense of inevitability. With the sound palette sorted out, it’s up to Dusk’s compositional skill to make Bunker worthwhile. It’s all too easy for electronic music to lean heavily into repetition; the infinitely replicable nature of composition in the medium lends itself towards riding extended grooves while adding and subtracting new elements. While Dusk certainly use this to their advantage in the latter half of the album, Bunker is front-loaded with two exciting tracks that move much faster than their tonal palette would suggest. “BUNKER I” begins in noisy ambience before introducing an Author & Punisher beat as its other sounds warp and stutter. A sudden blast of tremolo picking by guitarist Implacable gives way to more complex industrial beats and a simple, martial guitar riff, and then it’s over, transitioning into the Anaal Nathrakh-meets-Bliss Signal “Bunker II,” which vacillates between electronic blasts and subdued keys, with a lonely sonar ping accompanying both. Neither element ever overstays its welcome, and just six minutes in to Bunker, I was hooked.

Dusk can pack detail into songs even when they’re allowed to stretch out, and Bunker succeeds on meticulous sound design. In the doomy, menacing “Bunker III,” Dusk re-uses beats and samples dozens of times, but never outright repeats the same combinations of elements, making full use of the tools available to them. Though the song is slow-moving, subtle crescendos, particular spacing of instruments across the sound stage, and slowly adjusting cutoffs that amplify the intensity of a clip of breaking glass combine to keep this reprieve interesting for as long as the first two tracks lasted.

At twenty-three minutes, Bunker is an exercise in restraint that pulls ahead of the band’s back catalog in part on the strength of its concision. These songs move through ideas quickly enough to never grow stale, but there’s also a nagging feeling that Dusk’s compositions are somewhat automatic; each new idea that the songs explore is a small one, introduced almost scientifically so as to see just what that little tweak will do in the context surrounding it. No bizarre riff, jarring melody, or impressive performance could maintain this paradigm. Bunker, like most records Dusk put out, is something of a mood piece, hewing closely to a particular exploration of what this industrial/black metal hybrid can be without producing standout songs that make the sound creatively compelling. I’m left wanting something a bit less well-considered, something vital that’s often difficult for me to find in electronic music.

Nevertheless, Bunker is a compelling introduction to Dusk for anyone who hasn’t encountered the group before, and it stands as a concise exploration of their sound. Its damp, brooding atmospheres contrast expertly with moments of screaming static, and it’s all bolstered by enveloping production. Among the band’s now lengthy back catalog, Bunker’s combination of concision and vision stands out, but it’s only the sum of its many intricate but unimpressive parts. For Dusk to break through, they’ll have to break their own carefully-constructed mold.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: duskvt.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: February 20^th, 2026

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Like how tabbies are genetically diverse but visually similar, Malefic’s many ingredients blend into a kind of extreme metal slurry on Impermanence, all present but difficult to identify individually. Sure, some riffs are more typically one thing than another, like the Testament-like thrash chops opening “In Darkest Dreams,” or the Dissectionesque blackened trems on “Blood of the Throne,” or the Opethian deathly grooves of “It Haunts.” But taken as a whole, Impermanence doesn’t lean towards one sub-genre over another. Instead, Malefic’s mutt-metal manifests into an off-kilter, volatile force of hostility, recalling heavily of the genre-blending approach Xoth take. Xoth are actually probably the best comparison to Malefic, as drummer Aaron Baumoel’s rasps and screams sound a lot like both of their vocal duo, and guitarists Jason Davila and Sam Williams’ solos follow the melodically rich, whammy-friendly stylings of Xoth (“Idiocracy”). Bolstered by a rhythm section of Baumoel and bassist Andy McGraw, who both know how to lay down some serious groove when needed (“Deserter”) and a dynamic mix, Impermanence shows that those years of honing their style have paid off for Malefic. It’s a good sound!

But what confuses me about Impermanence is that it feels aimless in many places, but not because Malefic can’t edit. To the contrary, every song on Impermanence is tight and focused, only running past five minutes on “It Haunts.”¹ Malefic also aren’t indulging in extraneous instrumentals or soloing, as songs like “Of Gods and Man” and “Disembodiment” showcase the band’s restraint within their buck-wild playing. The issue is that Impermanence doesn’t stick with an idea long enough. “Blood of the Throne” and “Obsidian Earth” have, like, five riffs in their first minutes or so each; instead of expounding upon a few ideas, Malefic often churns through ideas before they’ve settled into something sticky. This pattern especially stinks when they land on something great and don’t develop it, like the swinging, discordant riff in the second verse(?) of “Echoes of Silence” or the guitar runs opening “Obsidian Earth.” Impermanence sees a band on a mission, but maybe also a band in too much of a hurry.

What this amounts to is that Impermanence possesses a sound I can’t say I’ve heard before, but also, confusingly, one that’s somewhat indistinct from other extreme metal albums. Malefic’s aforementioned style-soup is so dense with expansive inspirations and somewhat progressive tendencies (“Disembodiment,” “It Haunts”) that, besides some serious Xothisms here and there, it adds up to something not exactly like the sum of all of their influences. But at the same time, Impermanence’s loose structuring and lack of purposeful repetition hampers Malefic’s ability to craft lasting hooks. By and large, most songs start with some fanfare, rage for three-to-four minutes straight while Malefic tear through riffs with reckless abandon like a more evil, more succinct Trivium and end with little resolution. It can be very exciting and enjoyable in the moment, but I’m left with little to remember Impermanence by the time it’s over.

But there is nothing wrong with a tabby cat,² and there’s nothing wrong with Malefic. They’ve carved out a great sound for themselves that more purposeful songwriting could harness into a truly hog-wild time. But where Impermanence excels in thrills, it lacks staying power, mostly in part to Malefic’s restless pursuit of riffs above all else. Fans of blackened thrash, blackened death, death thrash or bethrashened black death could do a lot worse than giving Impermanence a spin, but it’s probably not the genre-shaking game changer the band wanted. There’s always the sophomore album, however…

Rating: Mixed
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Terminus Hate City
Websites: maleficband.com | malefic.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MaleficBandATL
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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Death Knocks

Hoaxed plays a familiar brand of bass-heavy, mid-paced doomy rock. In contrast with much of the genre, Hoaxed’s guitars might be the most understated part of their sound. Alternating between more aggressive riffs that recall Sumerlands and sparser melodies, Kat Keo’s guitar work is simple but tinged with evil. New bassist April Dimmick (Soul Grinder) brings her thrash experience to bear with aggressive thumping bass lines that often steal the show. Keo also handles lead clean vocals, while Dimmick alternates between clean harmonizing and harsh growls. These vocal melodies serve as a backbone, offering straightforward but engaging hooks to hold songs together. Rounded out by occasional synth backing, Death Knocks’ style of Gothic rock reminds me of Avatarium or a slowed-down Unto Others. It’s not an unheard-of style, but it’s one that works.

Death Knocks revels in its simplicity. Keo and Dimmick’s vocal work shines through its power rather than any technical gymnastics. The catchy melodies grab my attention throughout, even when other pieces falter; for instance, the rising and falling vocals of “Kill Switch” single-handedly redeem a track that struggles otherwise. Keo’s serene vocal approach sometimes reminds me of Myrkur’s folkier work (“The Fallen”). Similarly, Dimmick’s vocal harmonies aren’t earth-shattering, but they add a layer of depth throughout the album. Meanwhile, her bass riffs don’t hesitate to take center stage, adding oomph and variety (“Wretched”). But the real star of this show might be the drums. Kim Coffel’s tom-heavy and hi-hat-heavy kit attack displays a mastery of groove and creativity without feigning a technical clinic. The drums evolve constantly both within verses and between them, adding fluidity even in melodically simple moments (“Dead Ringer”). Coupled with a rich sound, Death Knocks’ drums are the most memorable part of the album, which I rarely ever say.

Straightforward songs are Hoaxed’s strength, but they can get old. Death Knocks’ song structures are cookie-cutter, with verses and choruses interspersed with instrumental interludes. While this poppy approach can work fine, it quickly loses me when the underlying melodies aren’t bulletproof (“Promised to Me”). Similarly, Hoaxed struggles to have creative outros even on their stronger tracks (“The Fallen”), making it seem like they came up with great ideas but weren’t sure how to stitch them together. Keo’s guitar melodies stand out on the opener “Where the Seas Fall Silent” and the fantastic “The Family,” but in the middle of the album, they tend to lose my interest through repetition. Death Knocks is consistently competent, but would benefit from more variety in its songwriting.

It’d be tough to argue that Death Knocks rewrites the book on anything. But with catchy vocal harmonies, engaging guitar and bass lines, and a stand-out drum performance, it’s a worthy addition to your collection. Death Knocks is also a triumph of conciseness; if this album had been 50 minutes long rather than 31, the bloat would have made it more of a chore to get through. As it stands, while Hoaxed has room to grow in their musical diversity, Death Knocks is a perfectly entertaining and ghoulish listen.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: hoaxed.bandcamp.com | hoaxedband.com | facebook.com/hoaxedband
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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I just wish it connected with me as well as The Prowess of Dormition did. Whereas Dormition was melodic black metal with a trip-hop undercurrent, Askdrömmar instead flirts with DSBM, rubbing shoulders with a trippier Lifelover bent. Opener “Mangata” leads off with some ambiance before a simple repeated melody takes over, followed by simplistic programmed drums, and finally other instrumentation. Vaarwel adopts more of a black metal rasp this time around, and just as the song starts to go somewhere, everything fades out, and you hear a sample of a young woman talking. Believing this would build to something, it instead leads into “Bortkastade dödsrunor,” the following track… which leads off with another sample.

The majority of what follows is a “wash-rinse-repeat” cycle among the remaining eight tracks, as they all follow a particular pattern: either a sample or piano twinkling, followed by a riff that’s more than a little reminiscent of mid-era Katatonia (“Kottkvam”), an atmospheric moment that sounds like a tremendous build-up that only goes back to the main riff, and then a sudden ending. Things start to get interesting when “Långt lopp genom mörkret” arrives, with its hyperactive keyboards and lively, energetic rhythms, but that’s track #8 of a nine-track album, and that’s just too far in the tracklisting to turn the ship around. Up until then, it’s just too formulaic and repetitive to leave a lasting mark.

The production also doesn’t help matters any, as it’s squashed and flat. The programmed drums sound like they were mixed a bit too far back, whereas the guitars, keyboards, and vocals are in-your-face, and those sound compressed within an inch of their existences. The biggest hurdle of this album lies in its conception and how it ties in with the Frozen Ocean discography. As a fan of Blut Aus Nord, I know mainman Vindsval will write whatever the fuck he feels like, and because of that, BaN’s discography runs the gamut of sounds and styles. However, the big difference is that you can still hear it’s BaN. Vaarwel doesn’t quite have that distinction when it comes to his music, as his releases are so spread out style- and quality-wise that it’s tough to find an underlying thread connecting any of it.

And that sucks to type, because I remember being impressed by The Prowess of Dormition when it released almost a decade ago. While I wasn’t expecting a repeat of that EP, I also wasn’t expecting to be bored by what’s on offer here. Vaarwel is a talented musician with great ideas, but I’m waiting for those ideas to land. With Askdrömmar, I will continue waiting.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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Fortunately, the first few minutes of Rituel : Initiation act as an interesting microcosm for its whole: “Une Pleine Absence” lulls you in slowly with heavy atmosphere, wordless sighs, throat singing (I believe from lead vocalist Sébastien Defabiani), and acoustic passages, slowly building in intensity. It does this so effectively, in fact, that when the guitars do arrive, they feel overly jagged, loud, and harsh. I signed up for a post-black metal album—I expected loud. But De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube do somber atmosphere very well, and they do post and black metal well, but it’s interesting how the two can be at odds with each other in this style. Ten minutes later, this moment is forgotten, and the guitars sound as natural as anything else. “Une Pleine Absence” is still going, incorporating tremolos and depressive shrieks as a heavier atmospheric element, and you know well what to expect over the rest of Rituel : Initiation.

This intersection of rough-around-the-edges post metal, black metal aggression, and atmospheric melancholy seems to define both Rituel : Initiation and De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube. “Le Vertige d’une Descendance” is similar to the intro in that it starts slowly and gives bassist Valerian Burki a moment to shine. It leans more post than black, with some strong riffs that give the song groove and, if you’ll forgive a technical term, head-nod factor. “Un Sanctuaire de Cendres” is much more blackened than post, but when Fantine Schütz’s clean singing soars through the gloom, it’s a genuinely touching moment. Tremolos towards the end from guitarists Dominique Blanc and Kilian Caddoux counterbalance nicely with Valentin Boada’s frantic drumming, and here, the intersections work very well.

If I were to criticize one thing about Rituel : Initiation, it’s that the blended styles don’t allow for a ton of memorability. There are great moments throughout the five tracks—I’ve mentioned a few already, and want to highlight the slow march riffing around the midpoint of “Un Sanctuaire de Cendres” as well. But generally, Rituel : Initiation does not feel very strongly structured as an album. Songs, all but one over eleven minutes long, move from one idea to the next coherently and naturally, but in such a way as to evade hooks or moments of particular catchiness or impact. I always enjoy listening, but after the fifty-three minutes are done, I don’t have much impression of specific songs I liked; rather, it’s moments here and there that I know were early or late in the session. This makes sense of the style De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube play, but it also gives the impression of a dense album that I perhaps still need to spend more time with to truly crack.

Still, I like what De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube are doing here. Cold, regal, aggressive, anguished, and balanced on a knife’s edge—there’s some good metal here! As “Une Absolute Prèsence” builds to the album’s climactic end, I can’t help but be impressed. I wouldn’t have hated more editing—there’s a lot of metal here too—but too much of a good thing isn’t a bad thing. Rituel : Initiation is, in my mind, an exciting debut, the kind that speaks of genuine potential. Color me intrigued.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: danapostmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/dana.postmetal
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 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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