While appearing to be a split, Waters is more of a collaboration as each individual contributes vocal or instrumental talents across multiple songs, including on those they wrote and take the lead in themselves. Spearheading the whole thing are Richard and Alice Corvinus of Swords of Dis, who have a hand in all lyrics and appear on every track. These lyrics, inspired by the words of the epic itself, consist of narration interspersed with dialogue between the various characters, and the five musicians rotate and share roles depending on who is involved in the corresponding part of the story. ² This improves the album’s internal coherence—which might otherwise be hindered in a split format—whilst also allowing each movement to take on the personality of its lead artist. As a form of adaptation, the five tracks of reverb-filled, noisy, strange, melodramatically or demoniacally vocally-led, black-adjacent fringe metal lean into the grand, frightening side to the tale whose gravity us modern-age folk probably can’t appreciate properly. And it’s that excessive, almost absurd commitment to being different, which—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—actually works.

Drama is at the heart of oral poetic tradition, and it’s Waters’ drama that similarly grounds its best aspects. Utmost credit goes to Alice Corvinus and her fierce (“From Egalmah They Rode…”³, operatic (“Araru Births the Lord of the Wilderness,” “From Egalmah…,” “Blood Stains The Altar…”⁴), sometimes eerie (“Into the Wailing Darkness”⁵) vocal performance. Her presence dominates as she provides some narration in addition to voicing every female character (and there are a lot of goddesses involved). Dark, minor tremolo refrains and Middle-Eastern-inspired melodies support her delivery, and the theatrical, flowing style Swords of Dis employ lends itself to this expression perfectly. In a different vein, the inhumanly gurgling snarls of Guillaume Cazalet (Ôros Kaù) make for a barbed contrast to otherwise vague, even beautiful, passages (“Blood…”), and can be genuinely frightening (“Into The Wailing Darkness”). All vocals—clean or harsh—are odd to a degree, sometimes even off-putting (“Araru…”). Yet most breaches of the cringe line are brief, and ameliorated by interesting instrumentation (“Blood…,” “From the Setting…”⁶). Those totally averse to what we anaemically refer to as ‘avant-garde’ in extreme metal can beg to differ, but the back and forth between dissonance and harmony (“Araru…,” “Blood…”), and between uncomfortable slowness and sudden speed (“From the Setting…”), is not only well-performed, it makes sense for the record’s narrative concept. A journey represented through a monotonous pattern (“From Egalmah…,” “From the Setting…”), the fury of a deity by means of an operatic surge (“From Egalmah…”).

Waters embodies the manner of epic poetry so well, however, that its digestibility is harmed as well as helped. Whether appropriate or not, its near-90-minute runtime makes engaging with its entirety a daunting prospect, and this is a record that fares best when you do give it the time and space to immerse you.⁷ The very aptness of the compositional style—long repetitive sections on the one hand, and frequent switches between tempo, melody, and vocalist on the other—which mimics recitation amongst orators, can prove taxing. It creates a dynamic of brilliant moments and stand-out performances, scattered unevenly inside overextended filling. It’s perhaps not a coincidence that the album’s midsection—the two tracks led by masterminds Swords of Dis—is by far the best and most even in quality, whereas its final act—Midnight Odyssey’s—is the least engaging and unable to support its length.⁸

Though Waters cannot escape the idiosyncrasies of the artists behind it—and so inherently restricts its audience—as an expression of this epic poem, these approaches to black metal are surprisingly apt. If you have the time to go on this adventure with Serpent Ascending, Ôros Kaù, Swords of Dis, and Midnight Odyssey, there’s plenty to enjoy. But if nothing else, let it be an excuse to learn about the original myth that inspires such weird, sometimes wonderful music.

Rating: Good(!)
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Album BC | Serpent Ascending BC | Serpent Ascending FB | Ôros Kaù BC | Ôros Kaù FB | Swords of Dis BC | Swords of Dis FB | Midnight Odyssey BC | Midnight Odyssey FB
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

The post Swords of Dis, Serpent Ascending, Ôros Kaù, Midnight Odyssey – From the Waters of Death – A retelling of the Epic of Gilgamesh Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Brutal cold envelops the building as my minions scrape through ice and filthy slush to find even the smallest shard of metallic glimmer. With extensive budget cuts demanded by my exorbitant bonus schedule—as is my right as CEO of this filtration service—there was no room to purchase adequate gear and equipment for these harsher weathers. However, I did take up crocheting recently so each of my “employees” received a nice soft hat.

Hopefully, that will be enough to tide them over until the inclement weather passes and we return to normal temps. Until then, they have these rare finds to keep them warm, and so do you! REJOICE!

Kenstrosity’s Knightly Nightmare

AngelMaker // This Used to Be Heaven [November 20th, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of AngelMaker’s since their 2015 debut Dissentient. The grossly underrated and underappreciated Vancouver septet are a highly specialized deathcore infantry, with their lineup expanding steadily over their career in concert with their ever-increasing songwriting sophistication. Unlike the brutish and belligerent debut and follow-up AngelMaker, 2022’s Sanctum and new outing This Used to Be Heaven indulge in rich layering, near-neoclassical melodies, and dramatic atmosphere to complement AngelMaker’s trademark sense of swaggering groove. With early entries “Rich in Anguish” and “Haunter” establishing the strength of both sides of their sound, it always surprises me how AngelMaker successfully twist and gnarl their sound into shapes—whether it be hardcore, blackened, or melodic—I wasn’t anticipating (“Silken Hands,” “Relinquished,” “Nothing Left”). A rock-solid back half launched by the epic “The Omen” two-part suite brings these deviations from the expected into unity with the deathcore foundation I know AngelMaker so well for (“Malevolence Reigns,” “Altare Mortis”), and in doing so secure their status as one of the most reliably creative deathcore acts in the scene. Nothing here is going to change the minds of the fiercer deathcore detractors, but if your heart is open even just a crack, there’s a good chance This Used to Be Heaven will force themselves into it, if not entirely rip the whole thing asunder. My advice is simply to let it.

ClarkKent’s Sonic Symphonics

Brainblast // Colossus Suprema [November 11th, 2025 – Vmbrella]

A debut album five years in the making from a band formed in 2015, Colossus Suprema is the brainchild of Bogotá, Colombia’s Edd Jiménez. Jiménez turned his passion for and training in classical composition towards his symphonic progressive act, Brainblast. With Bach as an inspiration, Brainblast’s brand of technical death metal has the grandeur of Fleshgod Apocalypse, the speed of Archspire, and the virtuosity of concert musicians. Jiménez’s classical training shows — the compositions have an orchestral feel, only played at insane energy levels. The speed, the depth, and the breadth of the instrumentation are sure to leave you breathless. Nicholas Le Fou Wells (First Fragment) lays down relentless kitwork with jaw-dropping velocity, while Eetu Hernesmaa provides technical fretwork that’ll similarly leave you awestruck. He delivers sublime riffs on “Relentless Rise” and a surprising melodic lead that steals the show on “Unchain Your Soul.” Perhaps most prominent is the virtuoso play of the bass from Rich Gray (Annihilator) and Dominic Forest Lapointe (First Fragment) that is omnipresent and funky on each and every song. To top it all off is the piano (perhaps from Jiménez), giving the music some gravitas with the technical, concert-style playing. This record is just plain bonkers and tons of fun. Given this is the debut from a young musician, the idea that Brainblast has room to grow is plenty exciting.

Gods of Gaia // Escape the Wonderland [November 28th, 2025 – Self Released]

If you’ve been eagerly awaiting the next SepticFlesh release, Germany’s Gods of Gaia have got you covered. Founded in 2023 by Kevin Sierra Eifert, Gods of Gaia is made up of an anonymous collective from around the world, contributing to a dark, heavy, and aggressive form of symphonic metal. Their sophomore album, Escape the Wonderland, features a collection of death metal songs with plenty of orchestral arrangements that add a dramatic flair. Along with crushing riffs and thunderous blast beats, you’ll hear choral chants (“Escape the Wonderland,” “Burn for Me”), bits of piano (“What It Takes”), and plenty of cinematic symphonics. SepticFlesh is the obvious influence, but the grandiosity of Fleshgod Apocalypse flares up on cuts like the dramatic “Rise Up.” The front half is largely aggressive, with “What It Takes” taking the energy to thrash levels. The back half dials down the energy, even creeping to near doom on “Krieg in Mir,” but never pulls back on the heaviness. Cool as the symphonic elements are, the riffs, blast beats, and brutal vocal delivery are just as impressive. Make no mistake, this is melodic death metal above all else, with symphonic seasonings that elevate it a notch. Just the opposite of what the record title suggests, this is one wonderland you won’t want to escape.

Grin Reaper’s Frozen Feast

Hounds of Bayanay // КЭМ [November 15, 2025 – Self Released]

Two-and-a-half years after dropping debut Legends of the North, Hounds of Bayanay returns with КЭМ to sate your eternal lust for folk metal.¹ Blending heavy metal with folk instrumentation, specifically kyrympa² and khomus,³ as well as throat singing, Hounds of Bayanay might sound like a Tengger Cavalry or The Hu knockoff, but you’ll do yourself a disservice by writing them off. Boldly enunciated, clarion cleans belt out in confident proclamations while grittier refrains and overtones resonate beneath, proffering assorted and engaging vocal stylings. Rather than dwelling overlong in strings and tribal chanting, the deft fusion of folk instruments with traditional metal defines Hounds’ sound and feels cohesively integrated on КЭМ, providing an intimate yet heavy backdrop to a hook-laden and alluringly replayable thirty-nine minutes. In addition to the eclectic folk influence, there’s a satisfying variety of songwriting from track to track, with “Ardaq,” “Cɯsqa:n,” and “Dɔʃɔrum” exemplifying the enticing synthesis of styles. More than anything else, Hounds of Bayanay embodies heart and fun, warming my chilly days with a well-executed platter of Eastern-influenced folk metal. Don’t skip this one, or the decision could hound you.

Blood Red Throne // Siltskin [December 05, 2025 – Soulseller Records]

I’m shoving up against the deadline to wedge this one in, but Blood Red Throne’s latest deserves a mention, and bulldozing is just the sort of thing you should do while listening to BRT’s brand of bludgeoning, pit-stomping romp. Back in December, the venerable Norwegian death metal act dropped twelfth album Siltskin, maintaining their prolific and consistent release schedule. In addition to their dependable output, BRT stays the course with pummeling, brutish pomp. In his coverage of Nonagon and Imperial Congregation, Doc Grier drums up comparisons to Old Man’s Child, Panzerchrist, and Hypocrisy, and while I’m not inclined to disagree on those points, I’ll add that Siltskin also harkens to Kill-era Cannibal Corpse in its slick coalition of mid-paced slammers, warp-speed blitzes, and fat ‘n’ frolicking bass. Add to that the sly, sticky melody from the likes of Sentenced’s North from Here (“Vestigial Remnants”), and you’ve got a recipe for a righteous forty-five-minute smash-a-thon. Blood Red Throne’s last few records have been among their best, which is an incredible feat for a band this far into their career. While Siltskin doesn’t surpass BRT’s high-water mark, it keeps up, and if you’re hungry for an aural beatdown, then Blood Red Throne would like to throw their crown into the ring for consideration.

Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu // Immortality [December 17, 2025 – Bang the Head Records]

I am woefully late to the charms of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu, a Japanese death metal outfit prominently featuring slap ‘n’ pop bass. Had it not been for our trusty Flippered Friend, I might have continued this grievous injustice of ignorance, but thankfully, this is not the timeline to which I’m doomed. Immortality is Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s seventh album, and those who enjoy the band’s previous work should remain satisfied. For new acolytes, Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu grasps the rabid intensity of Vader and Krisiun and imbues it with a funky edge. Meaty bass rumbles and sprightly slapped accents, provided by bassist/vocalist Haruhisa Takahata, merge with Kouki Akita’s kit obliteration to establish a thunderous, unrelenting rhythm section. Atop the lower end’s heft, Keiichi Enjouji shreds and squeals with thrashy vigor and a keen understanding of melody. First proper track “Anima Immortalis” even includes gang intonations that work so well, I wish they were more prevalent across the album. The sum total of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s atmosphere is one of plucky exuberance that strikes with the force of a roundhouse kick to the dome. Had I discovered it sooner, Immortality would have qualified for a 2025 year-end honorable mention, as I haven’t been able to stop spinning it or the band’s prior releases.⁴ Though I’m still in the honeymoon phase, I expect this platter to live on in my listening, and recommend you not miss this GTK killer like I almost did.

Thus Spoke’s Random Revelations

The Algorithm // Recursive Infinity [November 21st, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of The Algorithm since the early days, back when their electronica-djent was almost twee in its experimental joy, spliced with light-hearted samples. Over the years, Rémi Gallego has tuned his flair for mesmeric, playful compositions to develop a richer, more streamlined sound. Recursive Infinity continues the recent upward trend Data Renaissance began. With riffs and rhythms the slickest since Brute Force, and melodies the brightest and most colourful since equally-prettily adorned Polymorphic Code, it’s a cyberpunk tour-de-force. The wildness is trained, chunky heaviness grounding magnetic melodies (“Race Condition,” “Mutex,” “By Design”), dense chugging transitioning seamlessly into techno (“Advanced Iteration Technique,” “Hollowing,” “Graceful Degradation), and adding bite to bubbly, candy-coloured soundscapes (“Rainbow Table,”). The skittering of breakbeats tempers synthwave (“Endless Iteration), and bright pulses wrap cascading electro-core (“Race Condition,” “Mutex”) and orchestral melodrama (“Recursive Infinity”). It’s often strongly reminiscent of some point in The Algorithm’s history, but everything is upgraded from charming to entrancing. This provides a new way to interpret Recursive Infinity: not just a reference to an endless loop in general, but to Boucle Infinie (Infinite Loop)—Remi’s other musical project—and by extension, The Algorithm themselves. Yet he is still experimenting, including vocoder vocals (“Endless Iteration,” “By Design”) for a surprisingly successful dark-Daft Punk vibe in slower, moodier moments. With nostalgic throwbacks transformed so beautifully, and the continued evolution, there’s simply no way I can ignore The Algorithm now. And neither should you.

Owlswald’s Holiday Scraps

Sun of the Suns // Entanglement [December 12th, 2025 – Scarlet Records]

Bands and labels take heed—We reserve December for two things: Listurnalia and celebrating another trip around the sun. It is not for releasing new music. Yet this blunder persists, ensuring we inevitably miss gems like Sun of the Suns’ sophomore effort, Entanglement.⁵ The record dropped just as the world was tuning out for the year, and it deserves much better. Building on the foundation of their 2021 debut, TIIT, the Italian trio has significantly beefed up their progressive death formula. Mixing tech-death articulation with deathcore brutality, Entanglement ensures fans of Fallujah will feel right at home with its effervescent clean melodies and crystalline textures. Francesca Paoli (Fleshgod Apocalypse) returns to provide another masterclass behind the kit with rapid-fire double-bass, blasts, and tom fills, while guitarists Marco Righetti and Ludovico Cioffi deliver cosmic shredding and radiant solos that are both technical and deliberate. While the early tracks lean into Fallujahian songcraft and Tesseract-style arpeggios, the album shines brightest late when the group largely sheds its stylistic orbit. “Please, Blackout My Eyes” pivots toward a majestic Aeternam vibe with ethereal tech-death incisiveness, while “One With the Sun” and “The Void Where Sound Ends Its Path” hit like a sledgehammer with Xenobiotic’s deathcore grooves. Though Luca Dave Scarlatti’s vocals lack differentiation, the sheer quality of the compositions carries the weight, proving Sun of the Suns are much more than mere clones.

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In the first half of What Happened In Roundwood, Under establishes their own distinct style that sits nicely in conversation with their American contemporaries. The foundations of these songs are built on angular sludge riffs over looping odd time signatures and off-kilter rhythmic patterns, like if a more avant-garde Melvins crashed into a version of Swans that was capable of editing. Bassist and vocalist Matt Franklin anchors the music with simple but weighty low-end riffs, locking tightly with drummer Andy Preece’s commanding, hypnotic grooves. Guitarist Simon Mayo fills in the gaps with jagged riffs and layers of dissonant, skronk-heavy leads. Franklin lends a sneering, British rasp to the endeavor, guiding the songs with an impassioned vocal performance that successfully conveys the aural depravity on display. This formula is deepened with the addition of menacing choral vocals and harmonies (“Ma,” “The Alchemist”), swirling guitar cacophonies (“Tantrum), and even Primitive Man-tinged, slow noise bursts (“Isaac”). It’s an effective and thoroughly unsettling display with just enough variety in its execution to keep things exciting until the B-side obliterates any sense of normalcy.

In the second half of What Happens In Roundwood, Under undergo a dramatic sonic shift, and the results are thrilling. The final stretch of the album leans heavily into exploratory, avant-garde jazz-influenced territory, with the tracks flowing seamlessly into one another like a three-part suite. These songs stand out as the album’s clear highlights. The sequence begins with “Rings,” which unfolds in a state of subdued horror, slowly building tension through sparse instrumentation before reaching a blissful climax. This transitions smoothly into “Roots and Limbs,” a jazzy, post-hardcore-like track that increases the tempo and intensity, providing a sense of release after several slower songs. All of this builds toward the closer, “Felling.” The final track plays out like a fever dream, reprising key moments from earlier in the album and reshaping them into a chaotic haze of noise. When the music finally collapses into rich choral vocals, it feels like the calm at the center of a storm. A perfect ending to a bold and striking second half.

This places What Happens in Roundwood in a peculiar position. The second half of the record explores markedly different sonic territory than the first, and is stronger for it. Under’s more standard sound, showcased on the first five tracks, is engaging, but compared to the highs of the final three, it falls a little short. Repeated listens leave me wanting just a bit more grit or memorability in the more straightforward sludge riffcraft before it gives way to the more exploratory material. I appreciate the band’s efforts to vary their noise-rock/sludge approach through vocal layers/embellishments or a Southern tinge (“Escape Roundwood”), but I find myself largely whelmed by the opening salvo. This isn’t a major mark against the record; the album is solid throughout. Still, it keeps the work from standing quite as tall alongside some of my favorites in the style.

With What Happens In Roundwood, Under have delivered a solid sludgy noise rock record with plenty of autre appeal. I wish the impressive oddity were distributed a bit more evenly throughout the album’s runtime, but it’s still an enjoyable listen that carves out its own unique niche within the broader style. The next time the UK group revisits their brand of sinister sludge, I’ll be excited to listen.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: APF Records
Websites: understockport.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/understockport
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

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A warped amalgamation of prog and avant-garde ambition, Fleshvessel occupies the most outer rim of death metal. As on 2023’s Yearning: Promethean Fates Sealed, Fleshvessel ranges far and wide for their vision. To realize Obstinacy: Sisyphean Dreams Unfolded, Fleshvessel calls upon over 20 instruments,² cinematic and literary samples,³ and at least ten different musical styles.⁴ This dizzying array of instruments and influences allows Fleshvessel to create a unique kind of concept album. Rather than telling a single story among several songs, Obstinacy functions as an anthology, each track a vibrant and unique vignette. Even though “Am,” for instance, has a distinctly cyberpunk feel compared to the epic, symphonic bent of “It Lurched from a Chasm in the Sky,” all four songs still orbit the same Sisyphean motif.

Fleshvessel’s ability to beat this chaotic mixture into submission is impressive, to say the least. Each instrument, each musical passage blends and bleeds together with a compositionally brilliant hand. It may not always be subtle, pleasant, or intuitive, but there is an undeniable and masterful flow to Obstinacy. The frenetic death metal that opens “Mental Myiasis” quickly lays down in a cosmic mire, where a guitar solo, spiraling into a tortured register, transforms into synths so subtly that I often missed the transition. Later in the same song, a beautiful, symphonic passage smoothly whips up into psychotic synths, death metal, and a deranged, “Flight of the Bumblebee”-esque piano before ultimately concluding on a bluesy guitar solo served hard-boiled. A mid-song synthwave melody in “Am” heralds the coming guitar riff, while operatic vocals help smooth over the transition and maintain the song’s cybernetic atmosphere. After listening to Obstinacy, I don’t think there’s anything Fleshvessel couldn’t fluidly incorporate into their sound.

Twelve criticized the programmed drums and pacing issues on Yearning, but neither concern is present here. Unfortunately, Obstinacy’s got its own shortcomings. While Fleshvessel’s songcraft is architecturally astounding, that doesn’t necessarily make it enjoyable. “Cessation Fixation” features a bass solo like a Seinfeld transition and some noir ambience reminiscent of Final Fantasy VII, while “It Lurched from a Chasm in the Sky” houses some groovy space jazz and a Middle Eastern percussion solo.⁵ It all fits together from a technical perspective, but such experimental infusions often strain the limits of agreeability. Fleshvessel also introduces a new “heavy metal falsetto” vocal style that feels almost parodic. It’s objectively and intentionally bad. I am quite certain that it’s integral to Fleshvessel’s vision, but to these ears, it’s a bizarre and grating performance. As Mrs Forrest would euphemistically say, “it’s certainly a choice.”

Fleshvessel is unquestionably comprised of exceptional musicians and composers. Lesser hands could never weave such a vast and varied tapestry as Obstinacy: Sisyphean Dreams Unfolded. Gnarly time signatures and polyrhythmic instrumentation smash and stitch together what should be mutually exclusive elements in a beautifully disfigured testament to the human experience. But technically masterful though Obstinacy is, the scope and prevalence of its experimentation greatly hamper its subjective, emotional, or euphonic accessibility. Ultimately, Obstinacy feels like a proof of concept, showcasing the furthest reaches of possibility. Die-hard prog fans and those with a passion for music theory may get more mileage out of Obstinacy: Sisyphean Dreams Unfolded, but for most, this will reinforce that just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

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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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Luckily for Strigiform, their songcraft does anything but check boxes, and the compositions on Aconite are nuanced and powered by a crack team of impeccable musicians. This is a quartet of underground metal veterans, from bands such as Vertebra Atlantis, Afraid of Destiny and Thirst Prayer, showing every bit of their pedigree across a lean 34-minute runtime. They merge the reality-altering riffcraft of mid-period Blut Aus Nord, the crystalline cleans of Haunter’s lighter moments and the sly virtuosity of Serpent Column into something entirely their own. Guitarist Saprovore careens between satisfying second-wave tremolos, uncomfortable suspended arpeggios, and spacey, phaser-coated clean sections dripping with a subtle menace. This delectable guitar work is backed by a tasty, jazz-fueled bass performance by Aiokos, who anchors the 6-string haze with a warm, meaty backbone, guiding the ear through these twisted compositions with melodic fills and supporting the eldritch riffery when necessary. The instrumental trio is rounded out by Morte Rossa on drums, who blasts and gallops as expected during the more anarchic moments, but also brings a gentle rhythmic touch to the record’s softer motifs. Each performance is impressive in its own right, but it’s the synthesis of these talented players working together to create considered compositions that elevate Aconite to a higher plane of perverse consciousness.

On Aconite, songs unfold naturally, brimming with skronktastic chaos and understated melodies. Strigiform understands the necessary push and pull to accent a work’s heavier moments, spending almost as much time lulling you into a sense of hypnotic false security as they do pummeling your eardrums with unholy blackened fury. The more aggressive cuts (“Adamant,” “Obsecration”) are led by omnidimensional death-tinged riffs and octopus-armed drum grooves while vocalist N shrieks abstract void poetry atop it all, but the rest of the album leaves plenty of room for brooding atmosphere. “Scorched and Hostile” emerges from its aural onslaught and ends on a sickening off-time chordal refrain, while album highlight “Hypnagogic Allure” weaves around a gorgeously haunting, Imperial Triumphant-esque clean arpeggio, building towards a dissonant freak-out as its poignant conclusion. Aconite demonstrates a pointed and deliberate pacing that often eludes bands of this ilk. Whenever a section might overstay its welcome, Strigiform interject with a novel, mind-bending part which furthers the song, easing up on the gas when necessary, but always deepening the band’s twisted vision.

Musically, Aconite is superb, but the work as a whole is elevated by Strigiform’s keen sense of thematics. The six songs on Aconite are ordered from shortest to longest, with each piece becoming more and more expansive until the 8-minute finale “Knell of Nethermost Withdrawal,” a tune that begins with nearly two minutes of abstract noise before the band’s familiar groaning lurch explodes into action. A full album listen gives the sense of descending into the Conradian darkness of some sinister subterranea. This is aided by some truly standout lyrics which evoke a poetic nihilism with the flourish of French symbolists like Baudelaire or Rimbaud. Such evocative lines as “Encapsulation of screaming cells / Inebriated by rotten velvet / Heal me with your aconite hands / Soak me in crimson flames / Turn my wrath to limestone / Drown in smoke” or “Molten into iridescent hallucinations / of devoured perception / yet again, another moment of consciousness / coerced into contemplation.” set my inner English major’s heart ablaze and are clear evidence that Aconite has the narrative weight to match its outstanding musicianship.

With Aconite, Strigiform have crafted a fully realized artistic statement that pushes the boundaries of esoteric underground metal. It’s the kind of album that makes all the trials and tribulations of music reviewing worthwhile—a debut from an unknown band on a modest label that completely floors you. Aconite is dynamic, intricate, and richly layered, a record every fan of avant-garde metal should hear. I can’t wait to see what Strigiform do next

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/album/aconite
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

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It’s difficult to know where to even begin with The Hermetic Way, and its brand of wisdom. At every turn, things somehow go wrong. The core sound is something akin to Esoctrilihum—barking screams, twisty guitars, and a propensity for echo on everything—only with a mix you’d barely forgive a bedroom project for, and a compositional style that makes said Esoctrilihum sound catchy. Tzevaot jumbles synths, piano, and guitars that seem to hit upon a genuine groove of Emperor-esque theatrics or Absu-level style completely by accident; the fact that the best melodies are never reprised only supports this theory. The drumming—which may well be a machine for all I can discern³—is flat and dull, buried by the wall of heavy reverb between the sharp stab of the vocals and the other instruments. This intensifies the feeling of aggravated confusion that defines the listening experience, as one struggles to keep up with the nonsensical rhythmic trades, sudden inclusion of solo synth or piano, and yet more spoken-word. This is not the nuanced placelessness of an intelligent, complex extreme metal, where discordance and strange rhythms develop impossibly but seamlessly into new forms; this is a mess.

As with many similar works of art, all of The Hermetic Way’s failures arise from the hubris of their creator. The indulgence of every idea, at the expense of their development, integration, and refinement, causes the record to swing pendulously between mind-numbing boredom and toe-curling cringe. Without fail, songs go in the most annoying possible direction, dropping tension like a hot potato and throwing out a rare good musical passage in favour of the most jarring refrains (“Solve et Coagula,” “Pyres of Meaning Light the New Aeon’s Way”), or another arrangement of noise to a jaunty tempo that makes a mockery of the previous composition (“Zosimos the Alchemist”). Elements are often so poorly integrated, that sections clearly designed for drama—stripped-back keys or solemn recitations—fail to land; the sample of famed occult author Lon Milo DuQuette is barely audible past the fickle interchanges of organs, riffs, and drums. The Oracle persistently delivers vocals in a monotonous, rapid-fire bark that gets grating fast, particularly when combined with Tzevaot’s fondness for stacking tempos and synth accompaniments like dominos one after another. But I would listen to hours of all the above barks rather than sit just once more through horror show “The Hero of Megiddo,” a skin-crawling ditty whose redemptive brevity is made moot by its being the only thing on the record with a memorable tune, causing the perverse singing and jangling chords to turn around in your brain like an inescapable merri-go-round.

Most painful of all is that The Hermetic Way could have been so much better. Tzevaot might try to borrow the label of “jazz” to elevate whatever’s going on with piano and cymbals at various points. While that’s not really justified, it’s nonetheless striking that every single isolated passage of good music on The Hermetic Way involves piano⁴ (“The Emerald Tablet of Thoth,” “Air Fire Water Earth,” “Metempsychosis”). These fleeting moments, which comprise approximately five percent of the runtime combine key slides and arpeggios in a stylish, interesting way that’s very cool, and variously reminiscent of Wreche, Vengeur, and once again Emperor. In an hour of music that is otherwise so exhausting, this is obviously not enough. By the time the best parts of the album arrive in closer “Metempsychosis,” you’re likely too checked out to care, if you’re even still listening.

The Hermetic Way’s title is apt. Not only as it divulges supposed profound truths through the visionary teachings of the self-imposed hermit, who has reached enlightenment through years of solitary contemplation. But also because that’s quite a good analogy for the solo metal musician of the esoteric bent. Maybe Tzevaot harbors real genius, and I’m simply too blind and deaf to see or hear it in their work. More likely it’s another case of talent foiled by delusion.

Rating: Bad
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 265 kb/s mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

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While Agriculture hasn’t completely turned their backs on their blackened roots, The Spiritual Sound uses them as a launchpad to branch out into realms occupied by groups like Liturgy and labelmates Chat Pile. The frenzied, tremolotic dissonance of guitarists Dan Meyer and Richard Chowenhill still power tracks like “Serenity,” “Flea,” and “Micah (5.15am),” underpinning Leah Levinson’s manic vocals and Kern Haug’s unhinged drumming. Now, however, this approach serves as a stepping stone to more expansive horizons, as Agriculture’s originality has fully blossomed. The record’s forty-four minutes are a playful, unpredictable and complex patchwork of styles: math rock chaos (“My Garden”), sludgy down-picked riffs (“The Weight”), soothing Slowdivey shoegaze harmonies (“Flea,” “Dan’s Love Song”), punky gallops (“Micah (5.15am))” and delicate, folky passages (“The Reply,” “Hallelujah”). This diverse blend transmits an authentic ethos centered on camaraderie, collective struggle, and catharsis, grounded in themes from queer history and AIDS-era literature to historical collapse and Zen Buddhism. As unconventional as it might be, The Spiritual Sound’s mission is a clear success: to craft unique, empowering music that fosters community without pretense.

Agriculture’s experimentation largely shines through Meyer and Chowenhill’s impressive and inventive shredding. The duo injects The Spiritual Sound with tons of flashy guitar work through a hodgepodge of bends, squeals, trills, and high-pitched pick taps around more conventional bouts of thrashy riffing and smothering tremolos to create a vibrant spectrum of textures. The captivating leads in tracks like “The Weight,” “My Garden” and “Bodhidharma”—the latter of which contains one of the best solos I’ve heard in a long time—take influence from Tom Morello’s (Rage Against the Machine) boundary-pushing designs or Larry LaLonde’s (Primus) accented jams, while “Flea’s” solo elicits the expressiveness of classic rock. Song o’ the Year candidate “My Garden” explodes into a whirling dervish of frantic math fretwork before dropping into one of the most crushing riffs I’ve heard all year. It then transitions into a soothing interlude for a brief moment before bludgeoning you once more with heaviness and rapid-fire high tremolo runs. This constant shift between doom- and groove-laden weight, jarring dissonance, and soothing ethereal passages is what gives The Spiritual Sound its complex structure and feeds its absorbing, often unpredictable journey.

The Spiritual Sound’s novelty is equally defined by Levinson and Meyer’s vocal performances. Levinson shifts between extreme intensity and introspective subtlety, delivering ear-piercing shrieking rasps balanced by softer, more experimental elements like the poetic, spoken word found in “Bodhidharma” or the conversational tone of “Flea.” The strategic use of soothing clean vocals and Meyer’s beautiful harmonies in songs like “The Reply,” “Hallelujah,” or “Dan’s Love Song” also provides essential emotional contrast, amplifying the impact of the record’s heavier tracks and buttressing Agriculture’s originality. The coarse production—courtesy of Chowenhill—is compressed and somewhat lo-fi but allows the quartet’s unbridled sound to rush through the speakers with both raw aggression and clarity.

Agriculture may have stumbled into black metal during their formation, but the genre—and The Spiritual Sound—is all the better for it. Though their ambitious scope results in some unevenness (“Flea” and “Serenity” rely on tropey structures and interlude “The Spiritual Sound” is confusingly split into its own track), Agriculture is unafraid to walk its own path, successfully blending various styles into a great record authentically rooted in the power, community and pure enjoyment of extreme music. Black metal purists should look elsewhere—however, those who approach The Spiritual Sound without pretense will find a unique, genre-defying experience that only gets better with every play.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: The Flenser
Websites: agriculturemusic.bandcamp.com/music | agriculturemusic.com | facebook.com/agriculturemusic
Releases Worldwide: October 3rd, 2025

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If you thought June was hot, you aren’t ready for what July has in store. The thin metallic walls of these flimsy ducts warp and soften as the sweltering environs continue to challenge the definition of “habitable.” But I must force my minions to continue their work, as this duty is sacred. Our ravenous appetites cannot be slaked without the supplementary sustenance the Filter brings!

Thankfully, we rescued just enough scraps to put together a meager spread. Enjoy in moderation!

Kenstrosity’s Blackened Buds

Echoes of Gloom // The Mind’s Eternal Storm [July 12th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Queensland isn’t my first thought when considering locales for atmospheric black metal. A genre so often built upon frigid tones and icy melodies feels incongruous to the heat and beastliness of the Australian landscape. Yet, one-man atmoblack act Echoes of Gloom persists. Masterminded by one Dan Elkin, Echoes of Gloom evokes a warm, muggy, and morose spirit with debut record The Mind’s Eternal Storm. But unlike many of the atmospheric persuasion, Echoes of Gloom also injects a classic heavy metal attack and a vaguely punky/folky twist into their formula to keep interest high (“Immortality Manifest,” “Throes of Bereavement I”). Furthermore, Echoes of Gloom weaponizes their energetic take on depressing atmoblack such that even as my head bounces to the riffy groove of surprisingly propulsive numbers like “The Wandering Moon” and “Great Malignant Towers of Delirium,” a palpable pall looms ever present, sapping all color from life as I witness this work. This in turn translates well to the long form, as demonstrated by the epic two-part “Throes of Bereavement” suite and ripping ten-minute closer “Wanderer of the Mind’s Eternal Storm,” boasting dynamics uncommon in the atmospheric field. In sum, if you’re the kind of metal fan that struggles with the airier side of the spectrum, The Mind’s Eternal Storm might be a good place to start.

Witchyre // Witchy Forest Dance Contest [July 14th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Germany’s Witchyre answer a question nobody asked but everyone should: what would happen if black metal and dance music joined forces? With debut LP Witchy Forest Dance Contest, we get to experience this mad alchemy firsthand, and it is an absolute joy! The staunchly anti-fascist Witchyre take the raw sound everyone knows and pumps it full of groove, bounce, and uninhibited fun for a raucous 46 minutes. Evoking equal parts Darude and Darkthrone, bangers like “Let There be Light…,” “Witchy Forest Dance Party,” and “Lost in a Dream” burst with infectious energy that feels demonic and exuberant at the same time. The raw production of the metallic elements shouldn’t work with the glossy sheen of electronic doots, but Witchyre’s often pop-punky song structure that develops as these divergent aesthetics collide adeptly bridges the gap (“Spirits Twirling,” “The Vampire Witch,” “Dragon’s Breath”). My main gripe is that even at a reasonable 46 minutes, each song feels a bit bloated, and some dance elements feel recycled in multiple places (“The Spirits Robbed My Mind”). But don’t let that scare you away. Witchyre is a delightful little deviation from convention fit for fans of Curta’n Wall and Old Nick, and everyone should give it a whirl just for fun!

Owlswald’s Hidden Hoots

Sheev // Ate’s Alchemist [July 11th, 2025 – Ripple Music]

While stoner can be hit-or-miss, Ripple Music often delivers the goods. And with Berlin’s Sheev, they can add another notch to their sativa-flavored belt. Since 2017, the four-piece has been brewing their unique, progressive-infused stoner rock sound. On their second full-length, Ate’s Alchemist, Sheev doubles down on their sonic elixir, with a throwback prog-rock vibe that evokes the likes of Yes and Jethro Tull, but with heavy doses of grunge, jam and modern rock. Vocalist Nitzan Sheps’ provides a stripped-down and authentic performance, sounding like a cross between Muse’s Matt Bellamy and Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley. The rhythm section is particularly great here. Drummer Philipp Vogt’s kit work is exceptionally musical, with intricate cymbal patterns on tracks like “Elephant Trunk,” “Cul De Sac,” and “King Mustard II” that fuel deep-pocket grooves. He also provides Tool-like syncopated rhythms on tracks like “Tüdelüt” and “Henry” that lock with bassist Joshan Chaudhary. Chaudhary’s bass playing is rare in its prominence and clarity in the mix. He maintains a tight pocket while also venturing out regularly with nimbler, adventurous flurries that highlight his technical skill. Yeah, a couple of the longer songs get a little lost, but the album is packed with killer musicianship and vocal hooks that stick with you, so it barely matters. Overall, Sheev has delivered a solid record that I’ll be spinning a lot—and you should too.

Dephosphorus // Planetoktonos [July 18th, 2025 – Selfmadegod Records/7 Degrees Records/Nerve Altar]

Space…the final grind-tier. On their fifth album, Planetoktonos (“Planetkiller”), Greek astro-grind quartet Dephosphorus rejects normal grind classifications and instead annihilates worlds with a brutal, interstellar collision of grind, blackened death, and hardcore. Taking inspiration from the harsh sci-fi of James S.A. Corey’s The Expanse, Planetoktonos is a relentless twenty-eight-minute assault—a sonic asteroid belt of thick, menacing distortion and time-warped drumming that channels Dephosphorus’ raw, furious energy. “The Triumph of Science and Reason” and “After the Holocaust” attack with the ruthless speed of Nasum while others, such as “The Kinetics of a Superintelligence Explosion,” “Hunting for Dyson Spheres,” and “Calculating Infinity,” punctuate sludgy aggression with razor-sharp, shredding passages reminiscent of early Mastodon that offer contrasting technical and rhythmic hostility. Vocalist Panos Agoros’ despairing howls are a particular highlight, full of a gravelly, blackened urgency that sounds the alarm for an interplanetary attack. Gang vocals on tracks like “Living in a Metastable Universe” and “The Kinetics of a Superintelligence Explosion” add extra weight to his frantic performance, proving Dephosphorus can incinerate worlds and still have a blast doing it. Raw, intense, and violent, Planetokonos is a must-listen for fans seeking Remission-era energy.

Tyme’s Tattered Treats

Mortual // Altars of Brutality [July 4th, 2025 – Nuclear Winter Records]

From the fetid rainforests of Costa Rica, San Jose’s Mortual dropped their sneaky good death metal debut, Altar of Brutality, on Independence Day this year. Free of frills and fuckery, Justin Corpse and Master Killer—both have guitar, bass, and vocal credits here—go for the jugular, providing swarms of riffs entrenched in filthy, Floridian swamp waters and powdered with Jersey grit. Solo work comes fast, squealy, and furious as if graduated from the Azagthothian school of shred (“Dominion of Eternal Blasphemy,” “Skeletal Vortex”), as hints of early Deicide lurk within the chugging chunks of “Altar of Brutality” and whiffs of early Monstrosity float amongst the speedier nooks and crannies of “Divine Monstrosity.”¹ Incantationally cavernous, the vocals fit the OSDM mold to a tee, sitting spaciously fat and happy within Dan Lowndes’ great mix and master, which consequently draws out a bestial bass sound that permeates the entirety of Altar of Brutality with low-end menace. Chalo’s (Chemicide) drum performance warrants particular note, as, from the opening tom roll of “Mortuary Rites,” he proceeds to bash skulls throughout Altar of Brutality’s swift thirty-five-minute runtime with a brutal blitz of double-kicking and blast-beating kit abuse. Embodying a DIY work ethic that imbues these tracks with youthful energy and a wealth of death metal character, Mortual aren’t looking to reinvent the wheel as much as they’d like to crush you under its meaty treads, over and over again.

Stomach // Low Demon [July 18th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Droney, doomy, sweaty, and sludgy as fuck, Stomach’s blast furnace second album, Low Demon, is the antithesis of summer-fun metal. Hailing from Geneva, Illinois, Stomach is drummer/vocalist John Hoffman (Weekend Nachos) and guitarist Adam Tomlinson (Sick/Tired, Sea of Shit), who capably carry out their cacophonous work in such a way as to defy the fact that they’re only a duo.² At volume, and believe me, you’ll want to crank this fucker to eleven, Low Demon will have you retching up all that light beer you drank by the pool and crying for yer mom, as “Dredged” oozes, rib-rattling from the speakers, a continuous, four-and-a-half-minute chord-layered exercise in exponentially applied tonal pressure. With five tracks spanning just over forty-three minutes, there’s not a lot on Low Demon that’s in a hurry, and aside from sections of up-tempo doom riffs (“Get Through Winter”) and some downright grindery (“Oscillate”) offering respite from the otherwise crushing wall of sound, listening to Stomach is akin to being waterboarded with molasses. Heavy influences from Earth, Sunn O))), Crossed Out, and Grief—whose Come to Grief stands as a sludge staple—form the basis for much of Stomach’s sound, and while Primitive Man and Hell draw apt comparisons as well, I’m guessing you know what you’re getting into by now. Maniacally cinematic and far from light-hearted, Stomach’s Low Demon was everything I didn’t think I needed during this hot and humid-as-an-armpit-in-hell summer.

Killjoy’s Flutes of Fancy

Braia // Vertentes de lá e cá [July 10th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Bruno Maia is one of the most inventive and hardworking musicians that I know of. Best known for the whimsical Celtic folk metal of Tuatha de Danann, he also has his own folk rock side project, Braia. Vertentes de lá e cá explores the rich history and culture of the Minas Gerais state in his native country, Brazil.³ Bursting with more sweetness than a ripe mango, Vertentes de lá e cá sports a huge diversity of musical styles and instruments. A combination of flute, viola, and acoustic guitar forms the backbone of most of the songs, like the Irish jigs in “Vertentes” or the flitting melodies of “Princesa do Sul.” My ears also detect accordion (“O Cururu do Ingaí”), saxophone (“Serra das Letras”), harmonica (“Hipólita”), banjo (“Carrancas”), and spacey synth effects (“Pagode Mouro”). That last one might sound out of place, but it makes more sense after learning of the local tales of extraterrestrial encounters. Maia sings in only two of the twelve tracks (“Emboabas” and “Rei do Campo Grande”), but all 41 minutes should be engaging enough for listeners who are typically unmoved by instrumental music. Though thematically focused on one specific location, Vertentes de lá e cá deserves to be heard by the entire world.

Storchi // By Far Away [July 25th, 2025 – Self-Release]

I would guess that the “experimental” tag causes some degree of trepidation within most listeners. However, occasionally an artist executes a fresh new vision so confidently that I can’t help but wonder if it’s secretly been around for a long time. Storchi, an instrumental prog group from Kabri, Israel, utilizes a flute in creative ways. Its bright, jazzy demeanor almost functions as a substitute for a vocalist in terms of expressiveness and personality. The Middle Eastern flair combined with modest electronic elements reminds me of Hugo Kant’s flute-heavy multicultural trip-hop. The chunky palm-muted guitar and bass borrow the best aspects of djent alongside eccentrically dynamic drum tempos. There is premeditation amidst the chaos, though. The triplet tracks “Far,” “Further,” and “Furthest” scattered throughout By Far Away each offer a unique rendition of the same core flute tune. “Lagoona” and “Smoky” make good use of melodic reprisals at the very end to neatly close the loop on what might have otherwise felt like more disjointed songs. Despite frequent and abrupt stylistic shifts, Storchi manages to make the 31-minute runtime of By Far Away feel more enjoyable than jolting. Flute fanatics should take note.

ClarkKent’s Addictive Addition

Daron Malakian and Scars on Broadway // Addicted to the Violence [July 19th, 2025 – Scarred for Life]

Since System of a Down disbanded, guitarist Daron Malakian has gone on to release 3 full-length albums under the moniker Scars on Broadway between 2008 and 2025. This spinoff project has proven Malakian to be the oddball of the group, and this goofiness hasn’t mellowed since SOAD’s debut released 27 years ago. The energetic set of tunes on Addicted to the Violence mixes nu-metal, groove rock, and pop with plenty of synths to create some fun and catchy beats. Sure, you have to delve through some baffling lyrics,⁴ such as when Malakian sings that there’s “a tiger that’s riding on your back / And it’s singing out ‘Rawr! Rawr!'” (“Killing Spree”). Malakian also turns to the familiar theme of drug addiction that he and Serj have explored from “Sugar” to “Heroine” to “Chemicals.”⁵ This time around, it’s “Satan Hussein,” where he mixes Quaaludes and Vicodin with Jesus Christ. To offset the repetition within songs, Malakian has the sense to mix things up. There’s the nu-metal cuts of “Satan Hussein” and “Destroy the Power,” featuring energetic vocalizations and grooves, but there’s also a lot of pop (“You Destroy You”). The riffs may not be as wild or creative as times past, but Addicted to the Violence makes use of a variety of instruments that keep things fresh, from an organ (“Done Me Wrong”) to a mandolin (“You Destroy You”) to some sweet synth solos. There’s even a brief saxophone appearance to conclude the album. Yes, I know exactly what you’re thinking: “This sounds awesome!”

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With a permanent² vocalist alongside Weisnewski’s own contributions, Truth Paste is closer to powerviolence or grind than previous outings. But a vague resemblance to these genres is as close as it gets. The record is a breezy 23 minutes across 11 tracks (check one: very short runtimes), and there are more passages of outright beatdown, screaming, chaotic metallic insanity (check 2: silly heavy and intense). But it’s what’s going on within that runtime, and both during and between those especially heavy moments that matters. Nuclear Dudes don’t waste a second. Opening on a bizarre tribute to Guns ‘n Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle”—which includes using that song’s literal intro as their own—the duo switch in a flash to an electro-grind(core), erratically accented by an array of eclectic sound effects, which is a recurrent style on the album. Approximately four and a half minutes in, it becomes clear that the preceding two tracks (“Napalm Life,” “Holiday Warfare”) functioned as a violent induction to themes that are to follow, as the title track ramps up to a pure hardcore breakdown to a woman crying “ohhhh myy gawwd it’s—”, and the ensuing chuggery forms the first ‘breather’ for the listener. That concludes the most normal segment on the record.

Truth Paste is weird, but it’s not incoherent. Despite the apparently revolving door of blooping, whirring keys and sound effects, and tempo changes that would give an F1 driver whiplash (“Napalm Life,” “Dirty 20,” “Death at Burning Man”), the whole thing flows remarkably well. Pretty much all songs transition seamlessly from the previous with overlapping samples, humming melodies, basslines, or keyboard something-or-other. Nuclear Dudes hit their peak at moments when the electronica-mixed-with-guitar transforms into synthwave by way of grind, making for ridiculously fun grooves (“Concussion Protocol,” “Space Juice,” “Pelvis Presley”) if not some very entertaining melodic excursions. Or perhaps the best parts are during those rapid-fire switches, where goofy meets brutal and jaw-smashing breakdowns are followed or preceded by floaty ethereality (“Truth Paste,” “Juggalos for Congress”).

As a novelty band that takes not taking itself seriously quite seriously, Nuclear Dudes are doing everything right. Track titles are dumb, the movie samples cheesy, and the harsh vox mix is a wry recollection of a bygone bedroom death/grind era. Nuclear Dudes own every last second of it, from the roboticised vocals (“Napalm Life,” “Concussion Protocol,” “Cyrus the Virus”) to the videogame battle sequence vibes of the keyboard gymnastics (“Dirty 20,” “Space Juice”). It’s almost annoying how un-annoying it is. And since you effectively experience it as one extended track, given those instant transitions, it becomes very easy to just vibe with it and not worry about which song you’re actually hearing at any moment, or whether what you just heard was genius or just silly. But in having superior flow to its predecessors, Truth Paste also possesses fewer true standout moments. There are no lows, it’s true, but there are also no epic peaks—no “Many Knifes,” for instance. Then again, this record is committing more strongly to the meth-head electro-grind genre than Boss Blades, and in that respect, kind of smashes it.

If you want to have a very entertaining 23 minutes and six seconds, Truth Paste should be your go-to. Nuclear Dudes has taken recruiting a vocalist, and evolving into their full hybrid mad-subgenre form in their stride, as they continue to half-sprint, half-dance ahead. This record is so tight, fun, and irritatingly self-aware that personal taste is practically irrelevant. I’m no longer going to express surprise that anything Nuclear Dudes creates will be fucking great.

Rating: Great
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: September 5th, 2025

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