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

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

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

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

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

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The academic analogy suits Mongraf, given the background of its primary composer. Erik Aanonsen is polymathic; he serves as vocalist and guitarist, writes the music and lyrics, and even provides nykkelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle). Aanonsen also leverages his degree in film scoring as producer and recording engineer for Occultation.² With a keyboardist (Ingvill Trydal) and another fiddler in tow (Sunniva Molvær Ihlhaug), Monograf sculpt cinematic tracks that sound like a less droning Wyatt E. These songs weave serpentine riffs, atmospheric synths, and folky fiddling into a loud/quiet/loud tapestry. The fiddle melodies frequently take center stage, crescendoing into intense payoffs (“The Prophet,” “Cripplegate”). Despite being more compressed than a cinematic album should be, the production is delightfully organic, especially its crackling guitar tones. Essentially, Occultation scores its cover art: one can feel the heat rising in this druid-filled sonic desert.

Occultation explores a more metal subject than its post-rock predecessor, mostly with success. With album two, Monograf adds doom, progressive, and even extreme metal credentials to their CV.³ Aanonsen, second guitarist Martin Sivertsen, and bassist Hanna Sannes Aanonsen often begin songs with the droning simplicity of an Om-inspired riff that develops into complex noodling à la prog-era Opeth (“The Prophet,” “Occultation”). Drummer Erlend Markussen Kilane adds more complexity, roving between jazzy snare work, thundering tom hits, and scene-stealing fills (“Cripplegate,” “Carrion Seller”). Vocally, Aanonsen still delivers the ghostly cleans that dominate Nadir, but he adds a raspy shout to Occultation. For the most part, these harsh vocals create urgency that the music doesn’t quite call for. But occasionally, Monograf snags a catchy chorus out of Aanonsen’s shout (“Occultation”).

Monograf aptly structures Occultation as a whole, though the songwriting strategy grows repetitive. Occultation is a dyad; a mid-album breather (“Ashes”) divides halves comprised of two longer songs. “The Prophet” and “Cripplegate” kick things off with compelling call-and-response arrangements: the riffs call, the fiddle responds. “Ashes” is a welcome reprieve, smothering intimate acoustic chords and Aanonsen’s gorgeous cleans underneath drum flourishes that swell in volume. The track comes off, however, as a bit of an academic exercise. Once “Carrion Seller” kicks in, the listener realizes that the call-and-response song structure is something of a formula. Fortunately, closer “Occultation” varies the formula, feeling more like a slow burn than a riff/fiddle conversation.

Monograf should feel secure in their new, metal-adjacent specialization. Despite my criticism of Occultation’s repetitive songwriting, its 40-minute runtime invites repeat visitations of its alluring soundscape. Fans of drone and doom should especially take notice. While its folk-infused heaviness is not an intervention on par with the most recent Wyatt E. release, Occultation skillfully balances hypnotism and memorability in its riffwork. On monograph three, I suspect that Monograf will inch closer to the oasis in the desert that is the tenure track.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordic Mission
Websites: monograf.bandcamp.com/ | facebook.com/monografband | instagram.com/monografband
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

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Glasgow-based Mrs. Frighthouse consists of wife and wife duo Carys and Luna Frighthouse, known as Mrs. and Mrs. on stage. Featuring an unflinching lyrical attack on misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia, and a musical approach as venomous, it recalls the likes of early Lingua Ignota, Couch Slut, and Julie Christmas. What hooked me was its mastering by Khanate bassist James Plotkin – anything that reminds of the menacing crawl that the drone legends conjure was a perk. However, like any noise album that focuses on ugliness and discordance, the audience is limited, the replay value is near null, and its strengths are a novelty in many ways. Featuring manic vocals both harsh and operatic to contrast with the suffocating noise, Mrs. Frighthouse wins points for charisma, but Solitude Over Control is still very much a noise album.

To my relief, Mrs. Frighthouse utilizes opaqueness and density to its benefit, avoiding the painful awkwardness of Läjä Äijälä & Albert Witchfinder’s trainwreck of a collaboration. Plotkin’s services are put to good use, as the backbone of sound is suffocating and all-encompassing in a way that recalls drone’s colossal density, an expanse of ominous tones upon which Mrs. and Mrs. traverse with their vocal journeys. Throw in some haunting ritualistic drumming patterns and minor organ trills, Mrs. Frighthouse crafts horrific soundscapes using an expert blend of clarity, melody, and discordance to match their surprisingly dynamic foray into noise. This is no Oscillotron – Mrs. Frighthouse knows how to write songs. While at first glance the sea of noise is a constant hum, those willing to delve beneath the surface will find smart songwriting aplenty.

The contrast between clarity and density is a clear priority in Solitude Over Control – which ends up being its most controversial element. From the aggressive industrial pulse paired with thick waves of noise easy to get lost in (“DIY Exorcism,” “White Plaster Rooms”) to more subtle crawling pieces with screeching soprano trills that feel strangely confrontational (“Seagulls” part 1 and 2, “Let My Spit Be Poison”), while creeping melodic motifs are warped and bastardized by the static (“Our Culture Without Autonomy,” “My Body is a Crime Scene”), Mrs. Frighthouse is a tour-de-force of metallic aggression without a riff in sight. Solitude Over Control wears its themes on its sleeves in sometimes awkward forthrightness, as both Mrs.’s spew vitriol over the misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia witnessed and experienced, matching the aggression and viciousness of the music. The closing title track is worthy of mention, because its slow-burning crescendo is a maddening and horrifying end to a maddening and horrifying album – a nerve-frying culmination of Mrs. Frighthouse’s best and worst.

Almost everything about Solitude Over Control feels intentional, but holy shit, is it unflinching and uncomfortable. Mrs. Frighthouse’s two vocals are insanely charismatic in their blend of shrieks, growls, operatic belts, whispers, and shouts, propelling the movement of the noise as it emerges and disappears in the sea of noise. Plotkin’s mastering adds a suffocating and claustrophobic quality that adds to the menace and aggression. Some tracks you’ll find yourself getting lost in the swaths of noise and industrial harshness, others you’ll find yourself blushing in the awkward stark clarity of the vocals. Mrs. Frighthouse offers a better noise album than most and is closer to the ceiling, but due to the divisiveness of the style and the starkness of some of the minimalist pieces, the reception will be mixed. Noise fans rejoice, all others steer clear.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Release
Websites: mrsfrighthouse.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/mrsfrighthouse
Releases Worldwide: September 26th, 2025

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Old Year’s droning form of doom metal is big, and No Dissent leaves little room to argue the point. Rezendes’ massive, tectonic bass lines shift under Roark’s squealy guitar feedback, distortedly sustained chords, and morosely haunting leads, conjuring an atmosphere that fans of Khanate, Evoken or Hell might appreciate (“Rotting Illusion”). Veeneman’s drums, monstrous and restrained, serve as the twisted backbone that keeps the rest of the band from getting too far ahead of themselves, expertly managing the funereal tempos, while Roark’s guttural roars, a mix of Incantation’s John McEntee and Bolt Thrower’s Karl Willetts, resound cavernously over the whole cacophonous affair, just this side of discernible. Tried and true death doom tropes are adhered to, boundaries left unstretched as Old Year seem less intent to innovate than devastate.

What drew me to Old Year is the result of something I refer to as the Jute Gyte effect, and not because Old Year share much of anything in common with Adam Kalmbach’s atonal dissonant metal project either. But because, while sumping the promo pit for something to snag, I was listening to a few minutes of No Dissent’s advance track, “Mechanical Birth,” and what I heard, though initially dismissed, refused to leave my mind, demanding I return to it. Which is precisely how I ended up falling for Jute Gyte’s Perdurance, and why I ended up pulling Old Year out of the murky waters. It just so happens that “Mechanical Birth,” with its eleven-plus minutes of relentless, pulsing death doom decimation, encapsulates every weapon at Old Year’s disposal and executes it all at a high level, making it an album highlight.

With a compact run-time of thirty-six minutes, No Dissent is an appetizer of the drone doom genre. While this personally nonpluses me, there may be purists, especially those of the funeral variety, who rabble over No Dissent’s length, shouting, ‘Why it’s barely an EP!’ And though I appreciate the bite-sized nature of Old Year’s debut, the album itself, wrapped in production that, though loud, complements what No Dissent is trying to do, consists of four separate tracks that, when taken as a whole, flow more like one continuous thirty-six-minute song, each one beginning and ending in very similar waves of screechy feedback. This undulation, combined with the simplistic construction of each song’s core, does wrap No Dissent in a drone that belies the album’s intent. There is nothing here that moves the genre forward in any way, at least not in ways that bands like Hellish Form are pushing things, perhaps rendering No Dissent too short, sweet, and simple for some.

For the interested yet uninitiated, Old Year’s No Dissent wouldn’t be a bad place from which to launch your journey into the death doom drone world. Its short run time and solid, albeit overly simple, representation of the genre could serve as training wheels, guiding you to bigger and more complex adventures. No Dissent didn’t blow my socks off, but I can see myself returning to it because it’s big, powerful, and doesn’t demand hours of my time. For now, I recommend you try plumbing its depths as well, and know that I will be scanning the horizon to see what Old Year does next.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

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A leaner and more concise album than even Beastland, Nocturnal Birding is another step from the transhumanism of Author & Punisher’s pedigree into more organic territory – although undoubtedly owing its success to its history. It steps outside Shone’s comfort zone, the composition of Nocturnal Birding revolving around the literal birdsongs of the tracks’ respective namesakes – in a metaphorical homage to the migrants crossing from Mexico to the US and the dangers they face. The album sees Krüller contributor and A Life Once Lost alum Doug Sabolick inducted as full-time guitarist, offering riffs and humanity alike throughout the album’s thirty-four-minute runtime. Revolving around a unique concept that never overstays its welcome, Nocturnal Birding is a romp through everything that makes Author & Punisher unique – and more.

Shone’s dynamics have always been a force to be reckoned with, elevating his already crushing drone/doom/industrial attack to colossal proportions, and Nocturnal Birding is no exception. The introduction of the birdsong adds an intriguing texture to this dynamic, quirky melodics morphing into devastating waves of noise. Author & Punisher offers some of its most accessible content since Ursus Americanus, mammoth dub techno beats guiding the movement between these two extremes. Lulling listeners into a false sense of surreal melody only to blast out the speakers with intense sound, punishing tracks will get your head moving in slow motion weight (“Titanis,” “Black Storm Petrel”), more thoughtful compositions bathe you in off-kilter rhythms and reverb-laden pulses (“Titmouse,” “Titmice”), and crawling brooding flocks offer eerie environs of darkness with Shone’s Reznor- and Peter Steele-influenced cleans (“Meadowlark,” “Mute Swans,” “Thrush”).

It would be tempting to say that if you’ve heard an Author & Punisher album before, you’ve probably heard what Nocturnal Birding has to offer – but 2025 finds the act sounding the most human they’ve ever been. While he exists as mainly supplemental, an added layer to the textured weight of the electronics, Doug Sabolick’s guitar shines as a razor-sharp counterweight to the sludgy downtuned electronic pulses (“Titmouse,” “Rook”) as well as a riffy force to be reckoned with (“Meadowlark,” “Thrush”). Furthermore, the live drums and simmering samples of Indonesian noise artist Kuntari in “Titanis” inject energy, the spoken word of Couch Slut’s Megan Oztrosits takes the creepy mood to haunting lows in “Mute Swans,” and the appearance of French industrial/sludge/death metal band Fange makes “Black Storm Petrel” one of the densest and most brutal tracks. Ultimately, while the synthetic and mechanical hallmarks are very much intact, the inclusion of live instruments adds a genuine feel to the proceedings – a trend that has likewise benefited Igorrr’s latest as the emphasis on solo machine-mongering has faltered.

In his review for Krüller, the illustrious Kronos observed that Author & Punisher albums seem to alternate between anthemic and ambitious. Aside from the foundational birdsong incorporation, Nocturnal Birding finds Shone and company firmly embracing the former – but with a uniquely human touch. This album will mercilessly crush you in the same way Beastland and Ursus Americanus did, as well as the likes of influences Godflesh, Neurosis, and Nine Inch Nails have done for years, and in a way that proposes new avenues for Shone and Sabolick moving forward. Nocturnal Birding is a fist raised to the sky, a poetic eye cast to the wings above, and one hell of a statement.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: authorandpunisher.bandcamp.com | authorandpunisher.com | facebook.com/authorandpunisher
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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As it turns out, the central sound on Control Your Soul’s Desire For Freedom isn’t quite as mind-boggling as it might seem. I’d place Heathe in the same category as The Body or Swans—sonic provocateurs who rely on oppressive atmosphere in tandem with monotonous repetition while pulling liberally from various musical traditions to convey emotion, often at the cost of songwriting. There are indeed notes of nü metal, gospel, and jazz scattered throughout the album, but they don’t redefine Heathe’s core aesthetic. Instead, these elements serve to augment the central concept or thematic devices of each track. Control Your Soul’s Desire For Freedom is clearly intended more as a listening “experience” meant to illicit powerful emotions than a collection of songs for consumptive pleasure. Each of the 6 tracks offers a different flavor of existential dread, ranging from harsh industrial loops accented by jazzy horns (“My Gods Destroy”) to Massive Attack-like triphop ethereal beats and autotuned choral vocals (“Uproar Taking Shape”). The only constants across them are a throat-shredding screamo wail, which makes up the majority of Heathe’s vocal delivery, ¹ and an almost slavish devotion to repetition.

Each song is built on a distinct rhythmic or melodic idea, repeated ad nauseam throughout its runtime. To their credit, Heathe add nuance by carefully shaping the pacing and delivery of these repetitions. Opener “Black Milk Sour Soil” begins with a cappella screams that persist for several minutes before giving way to subtle synth rhythms, tribal drumming, and ominous group chanting. “Valencia’s Next” employs many of the same elements but builds them around a hypnotic central drum loop, adding and subtracting blasts of harsh noise alongside, yes, jazz flute. Individually, these tracks are compelling and texturally rich. Taken together, however, the elongated song lengths and the band’s preference for atmosphere over traditional song structure can make a full-album listen daunting. Heathe place powerful climaxes at the end of several tracks, ecstatic post-rock crescendos where the horns and choirs break into consonance, but they aren’t enough to entice me back into repeated listens.

In many ways, Control Your Soul’s Desire For Freedom feels less like a conventional album and more like a performance art piece designed for a live audience. Heathe clearly understand how to convey emotional intensity, both uplifting and harrowing, and they wield that skill to striking effect. The final track, “Black As Oil,” is a gorgeous blend of modern classical and ambient, serving as a powerful yet bittersweet resolution after an album steeped in oppressive textures. As the strained vocals fade over shimmering guitar melodies, I’m hit with a wave of emotion—a kind of pained calmness. It’s the same sensation I might get from an avant-garde live performance that’s both awe-inspiring and slightly alienating. There’s real power in Heathe’s ability to evoke that feeling, but as a piece of recorded music, it leaves me wanting just a little more.

Control Your Soul’s Desire For Freedom is a difficult album for me to pin down. As a fan of the autre and experimental, I’ve endured more than my fair share of tuneless dirges masquerading as clever, and Heathe are not guilty of that. Beyond offering genuinely novel and distinctive sounds, there’s a powerful emotional core to this album that I deeply respect, but not one I’m keen to repeatedly partake in. Heathe are a band I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on, and I’d love to experience their brand of sonic alienation in a live setting. For now, though, they fall short of delivering an album that feels truly essential.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Empty Tape / Virkelighedsfjern
Websites: hethe.bandcamp.com|facebook.com/heathedeath
Releases Worldwide: October 3rd, 2025

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We won’t know the answer until this article gets published. And when it is, the statistics will be fabricated and obfuscated accordingly. So ignore the death toll and instead peep the haul!

Kenstrosity’s Meanest Meanies

Shadow of Intent // Imperium Delirium [June 12th, 2025 – Self-Release]

For over a decade, Connecticut/Rhode Island melodic deathcore independents Shadow of Intent challenged the standards of the genre by offering album after album of ripping tracks filled with drama, clever songwriting, and demolishing vocal talent. In their catalog, Elegy was the one record of theirs that didn’t stick with me. However, Imperium Delirium rapidly righted the ship with 55 minutes of opulent, evil, and crushing melodic destruction. Raging through its first half without a single misstep, Imperium Delirium is a focused effort chock full of devastating heft, buttery smooth songwriting, and a favorable riffs-to-breakdowns ratio. The back half focuses on drama and orchestration just a touch more, but songs like “Feeding the Meatgrinder,” “Vehement Draconian Vengeance,” and “No Matter the Cost” still bring the violence required to annihilate entire planets. Championing this unending assault of killer tunes, Ben Duerr’s vocal performance is intimidating to say the least, easily reinforcing his rightful place as one of the very best extreme vocalists in the scene today. Of course, the record is still too long by about 10 minutes, and a fair amount of that bloat comes from the slightly overblown self-titled closer. Additionally, while I appreciate the reverent nod to the instrumental talent on “Apocalypse Canvas,” I don’t believe it adds enough to the story of this record. Nonetheless, Imperium Delirium might be one of my favorite Shadows of Intent, and I look forward to where it leads me next.

ClarkKent’s Literary Listen

Nightbearer // Defiance [June 13, 2025 – Testimony Records]

Anyone looking for a mashup of Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy and Gothenburg melodeath, look no further than the latest album from Germany’s Nightbearer. Defiance marks album number three in the band’s repertoire, and a continuation of their worship of fantasy epics.¹ Right off the bat, the catchy harmonic guitar lead of “His Dark Materials” summons Dark Tranquillity and At the Gates. The guitar work by Dominik Hellmuth and Tristan Schubert is fantastic throughout–their creative melodies bring to mind lively outfits like Brymir. Michael Torka’s beastly growls and Manuel Lüke’s thunderous drumming add some brutality and weight to the harmonious riffs. A few songs even go full brutal death metal (“One Church Over All”, “Dying Knows No Bounds”). Perhaps the standout track comes from the 9-minute epic, “Ascension.” It starts with an eerie synth intro before breaking out into some of the best riffs on Defiance. Then, just as things settle down, the song builds back up and explodes into something straight from Blackwater Park-era Opeth. Overall, this is an impressive collection of songs that’s sure to scratch that HM-2 itch.

Tyme’s Juxtaposed Jotting

Lipoma // No Cure for the Sick [June 13th, 2025 – Gurgling Gore]

Melodic gore-grind. Yeah, it’s a thing. And California-based Lipoma’s new album, No Cure for the Sick, proves it’s a pretty fucking cool thing at that—the brainchild of one Max Pierce (aka Dr. Lipoma).² Since going live in 2021, Lipoma has been insanely active, releasing a slew of splits and EPs along with two full-length albums: 2022’s Horrors of Pathology and 2023’s Odes to Suffering. And while Lipoma has steadily worked to make comparisons with fellow purveyors like Carcass, Lymphatic Phlegm, and Pharmacist less relevant, No Cure for the Sick moves things to a different ballpark, one full of Gothenburgian melodicism (“Cult of the Firehealers,” “Glory to the Blade”), post-metallic pop-punk optimism (“Cardiac Scars Forever,” “Psalms of Psoriasis”), indecipherable gurgles, and organ, which is what sets Lipoma’s No Cure for the Sick apart not only from previous efforts, but the pack in general. From the circus-like atmosphere shrouding opener “The Sea Surgeon,” Pierce’s use of organ permeates much of No Cure for the Sick’s forty minutes, buoying the melodic heaviness and excellent solo work with jig-like danceability (“Remedies of Pagan Medicine,” “Last Anatomy of Johan Ziegler,” “No Cure for the Sick”). Pierce’s melodically charged instrumentation, when juxtaposed against his gore-ground gurglings—a combo that works in a way it has no right to—sees Lipoma doing something I find wholly unique, a rarity in today’s digital age. I have had a ton of fun with No Cure for the Sick, and if you’ve not checked it out yet, do so post haste.

Iceberg’s Frosty Forget-Me-Nots

Puppe Magnetik // Laudans Deum [June 6th, 2025 – The Circle Music]

Laudans Deum is not for the faint of heart, if that album cover didn’t quite convince you. The debut compilation of Puppe Magnetik, the record dives deep into the recesses of the human psyche. Aina Virtanen weaponizes industrial metal, ambient, and drone, wrapped up in the stylings of the Weimar Republic. An accomplished classically-trained musician, Virtanen uses her clean vocals sparingly (“Who Will Sing This Sorrow,” “Labyrinth”) but to great effect, reminiscent of Diablo Swing Orchestra. But the accessibility stops there; Laudans Deum’s thirteen tracks are comprised of ambient meditations (“Moritat”), ear-splitting electronic barrages (“Suspendium, Rosarium et Crucifixu”), and mood music fit for a throwback horror movie (“The Pregnant Nun,” “Patient AV”). But within the graveyard are scattered moments of respite; the gorgeously rendered classical guitar of “Timeless Serenade” and the haunting vocals of “Laments From The Desert.” While the album is unforgivingly through-composed, making for an exceptionally difficult first listen, there’s something darkly endearing about it. I’m reminded of Sergei Prokofiev, the Russian composer whose music was often described as both grotesque and starkly beautiful. Puppe Magnetik have produced a challenging record, but it’s worth a listen for those who enjoy avant-garde music and the stranger, more terrifying corners of the aural arts.

All Men Unto Me // Requiem [June 27th, 2025 – The Larvarium]

A little more metal, but a lot more challenging, All Men Unto Me’s Requiem brings to bear the full weight of spiritual suffering. Requiem is a direct interpretation of the Latin Mass for the Dead, it’s eight tracks playing all the hits. Fuzzed out, half-time doom takes a supporting role in a record that heavily features pipe organ, acoustic guitar, and string leads. Rylan Greaves takes a unique approach here, subverting the natural tension and release of the rite by injecting clanging noise into passages normally reverent. Their vocal performance is the unrepentant star of the show, at times crystalline (“Introit”) at others sobbing (“Kyrie”) straining (“Agnus Dei”) and howling (“Sequentia”). The album takes its time to sink its claws into you, with long track lengths and extended droning chords requiring patience. But pay close attention to Greaves’ lyrics and you can’t help but be pulled into the raw, emotional drama of Requiem. The rising, ethereal sunset of “In Paradisum,” the falsetto whisper speaking “God knows what I’d be without you” against an impossibly high, ever so slightly off-key bell-tone. One’s left wondering the true meaning of that line as the track ends, and the dead remain silent. A powerful statement indeed.

Mystikus Hugebeard’s Cybernetic Catalogue

NΞT-RUINΞR / / Prototype [June 6th, 2025 – Self-Release]

I am on a quest, dear reader. A quest to find the most perfect of unions between cyberpunk darkwave—I’m thinkin’ of Magnavolt or Daniel Deluxe—and metal music. This holy quest has led me to the UK’s NΞT-RUINΞR, and thus must I share it with you because their debut Prototype absolutely rules. As it turns out, this slab of cybersynth metalwave belongs to a genre I’ve long enjoyed but never knew had a name: Argent Metal. It’s derived from the modern Doom soundtrack: that kind of djenty, electronic-heavy industrial metal that makes you extremely eager to commit war crimes on demons from hell. Indeed, Prototype swings enough Argent weight around to knock some teeth loose, like in “…Lowlife” and “Supplicant.” But Prototype isn’t just “we have the Doom OST at home,” because NΞT-RUINΞR more vigorously incorporates the straightforward darkwave song structure onto the industrial metal soundscape. I wish more bands did this, because the result is so good. “Infiltrator” and “20XX” are absolute jams that infuse weighty guitars with the pulse-pounding beat of cyberwave synthdark. But the real winner is “Basilisk” where a cyberpunk build-up marches into a standard bass drop, only the bass drop is 20,000 tons of diabolical riff kept at a relentless tempo. Prototype is exciting, accessible, and loads of fun. It has also served as a wonderful gateway to tons of great music that I now have a name for, and I hope it does for you as well. For now, my quest continues; Prototype is thus far the closest to cyberpunk Nirvana I’ve reached, but my heart tells me more is out there.

Killjoy’s Fabulous Find

Fabula Rasa // Tome II: The Beyond [June 13th, 2025 – Self-Release]

The words “fabulous” and “fable” are interconnected, both derived from the Latin word “fabulosus.” And since folk music and power metal draw heavily from fables and myths, the portmanteau Fabula Rasa is a fitting name for a group that blends both genres. Following the lead of forebears Elvenking and early Mägo de Oz, this spirited crew from Düsseldorf, Germany, infuses what would otherwise be standard—but good!—heavy/power metal with lots of violin. The violin and guitar trade off playing the lead melodies, though the former tends to have greater emphasis. But fret not, shred-heads, for the guitar solos are also exemplary in the more power metal-leaning songs, like “Dragon Rising” and “Vengeance Is Mine.” The violin often carves its own folksy space, the cheery, zippy fiddling akin to Dalriada (“At Full Moon,” “Anthem of the North”). Most songs are energetic, but “Burning Innocence” is a pleasant surprise midway through the record, with hand drums and the other band members’ vocal contributions creating an intimate group setting. Don’t miss this charismatic performance from these fabulous musicians.

Maddog’s Sludgy Selection

Dimscûa // Dust Eater [June 3rd, 2025 – Self-Release]

While sludge is a dime a dozen, few bands scratch the same itch as Amenra’s best work. The UK’s Dimscûa aims to correct this oversight. Dust Eater opens with “Elder Bairn,” whose rhythmic riffs evoke the meditative power of LLNN. After this appetizer, the album’s interplay between brawn and heart rivals Amenra. While Dimscûa’s muscular riffs drive the album forward (“Existence/Futility”), Dust Eater stands out through its hypnotic melodies. The heartache in these melodies is palpable, magnified by tortured vocals that recall Julie Christmas. Because of this ebb and flow, the album never feels bloated despite its eight-minute average track length. For instance, “Existence/Futility” abandons and then suddenly resurrects its driving main riff, adding unexpected variety and lodging into my memory. Dust Eater’s climaxes sometimes fall short, like the fizzle-out ending of “The Dusteater.” But despite its imperfections, Dimscûa’s debut is a powerful outing in a neglected style.³

Dear Hollaback’s Ain’t No B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Various Artists // KPop Demon Hunters [Original Motion Picture Soundtrack] [June 20th, 2025 – Republic Records]⁴

Okay, look. Look. K-Pop is not metal, I get that. But the gang over at Sony concocted what just recently earned the title of Netflix’s most watched movie of all time, and holy shit, what a soundtrack.. I’d like to use the classic “my daughter made me do it” schtick but she only likes “Takedown.”⁵ KPop Demon Hunters creates insanely catchy pop music that’s also focused and intentional, a commentary on the rigid and flagellant nature of K-Pop alongside feel-good messages of self-acceptance and healing (“Golden,” “What It Sounds Like”). The focal girl group HUNTR/X does most of the heavy lifting, also tossing in enough pop culture-inclined battle hymns to make the republic jealous (“How It’s Done,” “Takedown”). Their on-screen rivals Saja Boys offer entendre-layered sugary pop (the infamous “Soda Pop”) and sinister Gregorian-influenced choruses (“Your Idol”). Beyond the novelty is intentionality: clever chord progressions that feel continually transcendent rather than stagnantly by-the-numbers (“What It Sounds Like”), diminuendos of authenticity among bombasts of a glossy sheen (“Golden”), touches of dissonance paired with unsettling slant rhymes (“Your Idol”), and rhythmic complexity building to ethereal climaxes of soaring belts (“Free”). While yes, I’m telling you to give it a spin, I am also giving excuses for why my review count dropped to critical this summer. Fuck off, I’m gonna be, gonna be golden.

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But first, a correction: in reviewing Death Cult, I noted that “the guitars do not dominate, nor do they crush the listener; instead, they unsettle, distort, and act as anchor for the vocals and electric violins that make up the true meat of the music.” Völur has no guitarist—only Lucas Gadke (Blood Ceremony), who plays bass (in addition to vocals and piano). The electric violins are indeed the “true meat of the music;” Völur create their uniquely haunting sound through intense distortion on Laura Bates’s violin and viola,¹ giving them a surprisingly heavy metal basis to work with—certainly I’d never have thought there’s no guitar in the blackened doom mania that is “Windbourne Sorcery II,” and I’m still not 100% sure I believe it. Previously, I compared the group to a gloomy “Apocapyse Orchestra meets King Goat” project, but, in hindsight, Apocalyptica might have been a better base point to use.

Realistically, though, none of that matters because Völur is unique in too many ways to build adequate comparisons, and Cares has only strengthened that position. Where Death Cult emphasized the heavier, doom metal basis of Völur’s material, Breathless Spirit leans more classical, a change that highlights the incredible range of the music, passing also through doom metal, black metal, folk, jazz, and drone along the way—and all of it done with “just” a violinist, bassist, and drummer (Justin Ruppel). What’s extra interesting (on an already very interesting record) is that Cares contributes piano, synthesizers, theremin, and textures. His production adds layer upon layer of grimy, modern darkness that contributes heavily to the metal feel of Breathless Spirit. It is, put simply, extremely experimental. It also works magnificently.

From the classically-inspired² “Hearth,” Breathless Spirit’s instrumental intro whose motifs just keep reappearing, to the towering doom metal conclusion of “Death in Solitude,” Völur are as engaging as they are unpredictable. I mentioned that “Windbourne Sorcery II” has the album’s blackened highlight, with Bates’s utterly unhinged shrieks atop a steady alarm of urgency from her violin. That same song has an almost funeral buildup, a chilling passage I compare favorably with Bell Witch’s Mirror Reaper³. The title track is the highlight for me; Gadke’s roars are front and center, and all of his vocals have depth and command to them, recalling Barren Earth’s On Lonely Towers.⁴ Guest vocals from Amy Bowles (ex-Hollow Earth) are a fantastic counter to his baritone cleans, and the brief improvizations a third of the way in is chaotic and delightful. You can dance to the haunting middle section, but it ends on a sense of heavy, epic urgency. Whatever style they try, Völur & Cares can’t help but create something beautiful. Much credit also belongs to Ruppel, whose measured drumming keeps Breathless Spirit grounded in a steady, doom-laden theme that serves it well.

I’ve run out of words, but there’s so much more to say. Breathless Spirit is a hard album to describe with any level of brevity. It explores worlds I’ve only hinted at here, and is much stronger than the sum of its parts. It’s not perfect—”On Drangey” is perhaps a touch too long for my preferences—but it hardly has to be. Breathless Spirit should enshrine Völur and Cares as experts in the experimental. Equal parts beautiful, haunting, and dark, Breathless Spirit defies my vocabulary—you simply must listen for yourself.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Blackthrone Productions
Websites: volur.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/VolurDoom
Releases Worldwide: August 8th, 2025

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If you are familiar with Mizmor and Hell’s past works, and can sort of picture what a collaboration focused on psychic distress might sound like, BOOM, you’re right! Alluvion is exactly that. Dense, doom-laden oppression, nuzzling up against moments of surprising delicacy and tenderness, with the latter kicking things off on opener, “Begging to be Lost.” The first two minutes of strings-only tranquillity hint at the rumbling blackened sludge that follows. With both men contributing vocals and guitars (while Hell handles bass, and Mizmor drums), when the hammer does fall, it falls hard. Noting the descriptor that Mizmor & Hell intended Alluvion to act as a means of navigating mental health struggles, I see the shifting moods of the record as mapping onto the ebb and flow of these challenges, from anvil-like oppression, through devastating chaos into exhausted moments of clarity, that border on hopeful. All this and more is packed into the 16 minutes and change of “Begging to be Lost” alone. Something resembling respite is offered by the percussion- and vocal-free “Vision I,” its distorted, reverberating drone cathartic in its simplicity.

As Mizmor & Hell move into standout piece “Pandemonium’s Throat,” the pattern of “Begging to be Lost” is repeated but in amplified form. The gentle opening notes bear hints of distortion, the droning guitar lines offer a rawer, blackened edge, while the vocals (Hell’s, I think) take on a more desperate, rasping edge. When all hell breaks loose—no pun intended—around the seven-minute mark, we find ourselves nudging into stripped back, heavily distorted black metal, with a frantic energy that is almost second wave in its intensity. Going into Alluvion, I’d braced myself for an epic on the scale of Yodh or Cairn, both of which hover around the hour mark. In fact, this comes in a surprisingly compact package, clocking in at just 39 minutes. But nevertheless, and perhaps because of the harrowing journey the listener is taken on, by the time we reach closer, “Vision II,” there’s an exhausted and drawn feel to Mizmor & Hell’s work. It’s that feeling of full-body tiredness we’ve all known at one point or another, where every part of you feels heavy and drained.

All that said, Alluvion isn’t quite as traumatic, nor as soul-destroying, as I’d braced myself for from this Mizmor & Hell combination. There are two reasons for this. First, “Vision I” and “Vision II,” which act as a mid-album interlude and outro,¹ respectively. These serve to both offer up some respite for the listener—leaving to one side the rather unsettling, wordless voices that swirl and clack around you at the end of “Vision II”—but also to significantly lessen the complexity of the album. Comprising over a quarter of Alluvion, they are, on the one hand, welcome for making it an easier listen, and, on the other, a hindrance for somewhat lessening its impact. The other reason for the lower trauma rating is the production. Only managing a DR4, this simply isn’t as rich and textured as I’d hoped it would be, and as I think it needs to be, to fully achieve its creators’ mission.

Alluvion promised a lot and delivered quite a bit, but not the whole package. Its highs, which are basically all of “Pandemonium’s Throat,” are great, building the oppressive tension before unleashing raw catharsis. However, the rest of the compositions from Mizmor & Hell are good but no more. I’m not quite sure how much of this to pin on the expectations that I carried into Alluvion, and which I suspect many who know the solo work by each of these men will also carry. It’s honest, raw, and good, but the fact is I walked away from it relatively unscathed, where I expected to be ruined, face down beside a deserted path.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Gilead Media
Websites: mizmor.bandcamp.com | loweryourhead.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: April 4th, 2025

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