It’s been a long five years since we’ve had an album from this Norwegian foursome. Which is probably a good thing, considering their last few releases haven’t been their best by a long shot. Basically, since 2011’s V, the band has struggled to retain their days-of-yore sound while trying to expand on it and deliver something fresh. Having left Season of Mist and returned to Indie Recordings, now is the time to drop something new and exciting—especially if you’ve once again enlisted the mighty Mistur’s keyboard wizard, Espen Bakketeig, to lend a hand in the finished product. One spin in and Vreid fans will find a lot of what you’ve come to expect from the band, while also exploring some surprising new directions that are sure to drop your jaw. But, is that a good or bad thing for The Skies Turn Black?

As has become the norm for the band, we’re blessed with some killer guest appearances by the aforementioned Espen Bakketeig and Djerv’s Agnete Kjølsrud, a smart decision by Kampfar on the amazing Ofidians Manifest. While Bakketeig’s performance on 2021’s solid Wild North West, I felt he was underutilized when crafting his key atmospheres or lustful piano passages. Thankfully, that is not the case for The Skies Turn Black. Outside of the emotional piano interludes, you’ll find plenty of powerful, spacey, and quirky key atmospheres throughout. And Kjølsrud’s contributions to the almost gothy “Loving the Dead” make it one of the best songs the band has ever penned.¹

The album begins on a strong note with “From These Woods,” which is one of the longer and more epic tracks. After opening with some soothing clean and acoustic guitars, the black metal assault ensues. After passing through a dark alley of echoing clean-vocal support, the new riff change is nastier and heavier than ever. But the moment you get settled in, the song comes to a screeching halt, unloading beautiful piano, soaring guitars, and lush, clean vocals. When it concludes, you’re whiplashed with a vicious attack because the fucking song still has two minutes to go. Another track that has similarities is “Smile of Hate.” This one has a simple but headbangable riff in the vein of Amon Amarth, that marches along at one point and collapses into another impressive piano passage. This time, a little less ethereal and more like the piano and key work of Dimmu Borgir.

But, like all Vreid records in the last decade, there’s a point where things get real weird. Not in a negative way, like some previous material. On The Skies Turn Black, it begins with “Kraken.” It turns out this track is part of the soundtrack to this year’s Norwegian “blockbuster,” Kraken.² But being more synth-driven than guitar-driven, it has an eerie vibe that actually would work equally well in the movie Sorcerer.³ It’s not a standout track, but it’s the perfect introduction to “Loving the Dead” because it uses the same elements. As mentioned, this song stands way out because Kjølsrud dominates on vocals. This eight-minute epic takes you through so many emotions, from Kjølsrud’s vocals to the intertwined guitar work and the climactic finish. This special piece is definitely a Grier SotY contender.

There are plenty of other high moments on this record, which is hella nice to hear for a change. The track that really loses me, though, is “Echoes of Life.” It’s not a bad song, but it’s an odd duck of ’70s progness. While it’s smooth and clean, it’s too old-timey to fit with the rest of the album. Thankfully, the follow-up closer “The Earth Rumbles” reignites the fire before the album concludes. If “Echoes of Life” ended the record, I might be a bit more upset. But, I’m pleased to say The Skies Turn Black is Vreid’s best album since V. Which is wild to say considering there are four full-lengths in that time. The master is nicely done, letting everyone shine when it matters—especially the bass, which has always been a major staple to their sound. If the skies really are going to turn black, I’m here for it. After all, that’s better than the color they are these days.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: Stream | Format Reviewed: Stream deez nutz
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: vreid.bandcamp.com | vreid.no | facebook.com/vreidofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

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With fourth album Colours of Pain, Ron has again kept himself within the blackened death sphere, this time by producing what’s essentially a modern black metal album that still contains enough variety and heavier flourishes to keep it from being trapped solely within that genre’s confines. Roughly half the songs here are similar to the opener, “Ashes,” which faintly recalls Satyricon in how it bobs forward on rocking rhythms that support Ron’s wretched, raspy growls and headnod-worthy riffs. The song is a decent tune with guitar-work that’s clear and assertive, if somewhat unremarkable. Of the other songs in this style, “Mindvirus” and the closer, “Resist,” are the best of the bunch, with snappy mid-tempo drumming and catchy, “riding to war” riffs that are sure to earn them a spot on my future jogging playlists. In much of the record’s second half, things drift more into post-black metal territory, with tracks like “Death Machine” using slightly slower passages, flashes of melody, and high-register guitars to conjure the melodrama of stuff like Woods of Desolation.

On paper, Colours of Pain seems to be a pretty diverse set of songs. Yet, somehow, it still comes across as oddly homogenous. In part, this issue may be caused by Joris’s drumming: While I enjoy the man’s beats, I wouldn’t call his performance particularly dynamic, with much of the album cruising pleasantly along at a similar tempo. As a result, many of the songs end up having a similar overall feel, even when the underlying riffing is quite different. The blame is not solely his, however. While Ron employs some decent riffs here, he never delivers anything that truly grabs you by the balls, resulting in an album that requires a decent amount of undivided attention to reveal its charms. The production has a clear and balanced sound that reminds me of Art of Propaganda signees like Harakiri for the Sky, which works for Bloodred’s style but exacerbates the album’s homogeneity a bit by coming across just a touch too loud and clean for me.

Despite these shortcomings, Colours of Pain remains an enjoyable release overall, and its highlights become increasingly apparent with repeated listens. The title track, for instance, shifts between a nice shuffling, mid-tempo riff and more traditional black metal hammering, resulting in a cool song that sounds something like a socially-conscious version of Belphegor. “Heretics” is another good cut, featuring an odd sidewinding riff and a particularly combative tremolo line. The backing operatic vocals in “Winds of Oblivion” and the climax of “Ashes” are also a nice touch, with the former track also serving as one of the album’s only true “slow” songs (making it a perfect lead-up to the boisterous closer, “Resist”).

Colours of Pain is the type of album that you can put on for any extreme metal fan, and while they may not love it, they almost certainly won’t hate it. Although initial impressions suggest an album that’s too inoffensive for its own good, repeat listens reveal a record with enough quality ideas and variety to keep it from being just extreme metal elevator music. What’s more, a perusal of Bloodred’s website shows that Ron seems quite passionate about the music he makes and the politically tinged lyrics that color these songs. In all, if you’re looking for a modern extreme metal album that goes down easy, you could do far worse.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Massacre Records
Websites: bloodred.bandcamp.com | bloodredband.com | facebook.com/bloodredofficial
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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1914’s brew of blackened death/doom returns in full force on Viribus Unitis, delivering the potent cocktail of history and metallic fortitude we’ve come to expect. As Holdeneye keenly observed in prior coverage, the Bolt Thrower-meets-Asphyx intersection remains apt, as well as Amon Amarthian melodic sensibilities. The opening to “1914 (The Siege of Przemyśl)” would slot perfectly into Fate of Norns, for instance. And anyone paying attention to WWI-centric bands writing songs from the Central Powers’ perspective won’t be surprised by Kanonenfieber comparisons, both in subject matter and determined sonic fervor. Besides the interplay of titanic riffs and melodic leads, listeners are thrown into samples of period-specific soundbites, such as the clip at the beginning of “1917 (The Isonzo Front).” Throughout Viribus Unitis, snippets like this further ensconce listeners in the milieu of the time.

Everything that worked well for 1914 on Where Fear and Weapons Meet has been dialed up on Viribus Unitis. The crushing bulk of blackened sludge, the biting edge of bitter melody, and the tinny clips of a bygone era construct a vivid portrayal of life and death on the front lines. It’s at once addictive and morose, and genuine in a way that transcends surface-level storytelling. Gang choruses weave in with Ditmar Kumarberg’s blackened rasps (“1915 (Easter Battle for the Zwinin Ridge)”) to create a soundscape on two fronts, one unhinged by the chaos of war and the other a united fellowship forged in the fires of man-made hell. Another crucial layer that elevates Viribus Unitis is the guest vocals. Christopher Scott (Precious Death), Jérôme Reuter (Rome), and Aaron Stainthorpe (High Parasite, ex-My Dying Bride) inject variety and character to support 1914’s intricate aural campaign. Stainthorpe’s contribution on “1918 Pt. III: ADE (A Duty to Escape)” haunts with magnetic resonance as his cleans detail the inner monologue of the escaped protagonist while Kumarberg’s snarls narrate a harrowing getaway. This is pure SotY fodder and a must-listen for anyone reading. “1919 (The Home Where I Died)” follows, where a slightly distorted piano adds a warbling surrealism to the dirge. In it, Reuter’s tender croon recounts reuniting with his wife and daughter before the heartrending decision that he must leave once more.²

1914 wields thunder and riffs instinctively, ruthlessly bludgeoning with devastating grooves and cutting with calculated precision. Rostislaw Potoplacht’s³ drumming hypnotizes with martial rolls and implacable plods while Witaly Wyhovsky and Oleksa Fisiuk’s dual-guitar tandem electrifies with fiery trems and viscous atmospherics. All the while, Armen Howhannisjan holds down the bottom end on bass, adding texture and balance to the inexorable heft of Viribus Unitis. The sum total conjures vivid auditory experiences where each track breathes and bleeds with vitality and earnestness. And while no song sounds alike, all are undeniably 1914.

There’s little doubt that 1914 has delivered the most realized and important album of their career so far. Viribus Unitis is a masterclass in no-bullshit metal storytelling that feels authentic, intimate, and anthemic for the entire runtime. The sweeping story of a solider’s struggle through injury, capture, and escape is enough to satisfy, but viewed through the lens of the ubiquity of loss and love makes Viribus Unitis even more profound. 1914’s preceding LPs are fantastic, and their newest platter unequivocally entrenches the band as a premier act with a unique voice and relevant commentary on the human condition and how violence always leaves scars. Viribus Unitis is a must-listen for fans and newcomers alike, and missing this one is sure to leave you shell-shocked.

Rating: Excellent!
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

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Mana is what happens when Rammstein and Crematory’s industrial template slams into the glossy, market-tested sheen of Amaranthe. No, Erdling doesn’t have over-processed female vocals or cringe-inducing rap parts (thank Wotan); instead, they take the clear craftsmanship and studio-minded sheen of a more commercial-oriented Euro sound and apply them to a beefy industrial metal core. The result is a batch of sleek, pop tunes that feel precision-engineered to get your fist pumping and stick in your head for days afterwards. The essential ingredients—straightforward Nü-tinged riffing, simple but danceable grooves, and monotone but charismatic German spoken vocals are all here—but they’re arranged in razor-tight formation and often spruced up with garish synth leads or autotuned choirs. Nearly every track on Mana sits around the 3-minute mark, featuring absolutely zero fluff or overlong vibe-killing sections. We have the tried-and-true methodology of ABABCB ² applied throughout with just enough variety to keep things interesting. For most albums, this slavish devotion to formula would turn me away, but luckily for Erdling, they’re incredibly proficient in their execution.

A full listen of Mana delivers industrial metal banger after banger in rapid succession. The single “Dominus Omnium” showcases Erdling’s command of the style, skillfully building from eerie, restrained verses that highlight vocalist Neill Freiwald’s sinister delivery, into massive, synth-drenched choruses backed by layered guitars. Throughout the album, Erdling nods to various major European metal acts, adding variety and keeping the tracklist feeling fresh. “Los Los Los,” for example, is driven by an Amon Amarth-style melodeath riff but leans more into dance territory, complete with a flashy EDM lead that shines throughout and, of course, an earworm of a chorus. “Miasma” draws from the folk metal playbook, centering its chorus around a natural minor progression you’ve probably heard in dozens of Alestorm tracks. Another element that sets Erdling apart from many of their industrial peers is their lead guitarist. Ole Anders delivers several impressive solos and tasteful lead melodies across the album, adding a dynamic edge to even the more traditional cuts. Tracks like opener “Aurora” are pulled out of complacency by fiery, harmonized guitar work that keeps things from feeling too safe.

Now, it’s not all glühwein and glowsticks. Mana is a formulaic record by design and by limitation. Erdling commit to their template with near-militant discipline. There are no breathers, no tempo shifts, no moody detours. If you’re hoping for a left-field ballad or something vaguely introspective, keep walking. That said, the B-side introduces some welcome variations, like the blast beats and blackened vocals on “Alles dreht sich,” or the somber clean guitar textures on the closer “Sternenschimmer.” The album doesn’t evolve so much as it sprints headfirst into your chest for 37 minutes straight. But that also makes it endlessly re-listenable. Where most industrial albums sag under the weight of their own cyberpunk cosplay, Mana just keeps throwing punches. It’s the kind of record that’s over before you notice, only for your body to demand you hit play again like some kind of blood sugar-crashing dancefloor junkie.

At the end of the day, Erdling aren’t here to challenge the genre’s boundaries; they’re here to perfect it. Mana is a polished, addictive blast of industrial metal that would feel equally at home in a sweaty Berlin club or as fuel for your next deadlift PR. The songwriting is tight, the hooks hit hard, and the band understands exactly what kind of experience they’re delivering: 100% efficiency, zero filler. Is it deep? No. Is it innovative? Not really. Is it a blast and addictively replayable? Absolutely. Until Rammstein either implode or redeem themselves, Erdling just might be the Neue Deutsche Härte fix we need.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Out of Line Records
Websites: erdling.rocks |erdling.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: October 17th, 2025

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“Between grief and nothing, I will take grief.” –William Faulkner,

How do you grieve? Do you cry? Do you seek comfort in familiar places? Perhaps you bury yourself in busy work, hobbies, or your career. However you grieve, it is a deeply personal and taxing process. I suspect, though, that many reading this blog turn to music. And thusly grounded, I introduce Ancient Torment’s debut, Follow the Echo of Curses. Forged in the crucible of Finland’s gloom and Quebec’s triumphant misery, these Rhode Island black metallers offer an introspective journey through suffering and sorrow to the threshold of death’s doors. Nothing will ever cure grief, but this might help the darkest nights pass a little quicker.

Ancient Torment is firmly rooted in the second wave. All the standard hallmarks appear. Zealot (Witch King) provides a foundation of furious blast beats upon which Tormentum (Witch King) and Apparition (Cruciamentum) build walls of haunting tremolo. The occasional well-placed lead breaks free of the mortar, adding texture and tension (“Hanging by a Dead Star,” “Rotting Temperament”). Czarnobóg’s bass isn’t all too noticeable, but in this house of black metal, that wall is rarely load-bearing anyway. Decorating the interior is left to vocalist Stygal, who peddles in howls so tortured and haunted that even without a lyric sheet, his anguish is clear. It is around these despairing vocals that Ancient Torment builds their ode to suffering.

If Follow the Echo of Curses were just trve black metal, it would collapse in the first summer storm, but that’s not the case. Each successive spin unveiled hidden rooms and secret passages I had missed at first. On my second visit, I discovered choral arrangements building anticipation (“Spectre at the Crossroads”) and dissonant vistas crafted by microtonal variance between guitars (“Dejected Dreams Molested in Purgatory”). My third listen revealed the Bathory-worship of “Under the Guise of Virtue” and the Fate of Norns-adjacent opening riff of “Sorrow Verses.” A week spent in these halls highlighted the Ancst-flavored crust—evinced in plentiful d-beats and matching guitars—that adorns the baseboards. My favorite hidden treasure was found on “Rotting Temperament,” where Ancient Torment alters a recurrent riff throughout the track. What starts as an urgent and hectic melody slowly rots away to a simple four-note riff by the midpoint and settles there, a mere shell of its former self.

At this point in the tour, you might be tempted to look for mold under the floorboards or cracks in the windows of this coastal cottage Ancient Torment has built. The bass could be more forward in the mix, as could the lower end of the drums.¹ You might pause at an average track length of seven minutes and ask about bloat. But each of Follow the Echo of Curses’ six songs is dynamic and energetic, keeping me engaged from start to finish. Longest players and closing pair, “Under the Guise of Virtue” and “Rotting Temperament,” fly by with an urgency which makes me doubt that nearly 17 minutes have actually passed. My only major complaint is the spoken word passage in “Under the Guise of Virtue.” It’s awkward and atonal, and its timing almost ruins the song. But flaws notwithstanding, after the album closes, I feel satisfied with my time spent here.

Follow the Echo of Curses grew on me. My initial impressions were of safe, boilerplate black metal, but I was mistaken. With each listen, I found more to enjoy. For those willing to dig in, Ancient Torment adeptly augments their core sound to create something uniquely their own. This house has faults, but it’s no fixer-upper. It stands confidently on its own. Like a home that screams the absence of a loved one in every unswept corner and every silent hallway, Follow the Echo of Curses is indeed the journey through suffering that was promised.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s CBR MP3
Label: Eternal Death
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 1st, 2025

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Månegarm’s arc explains how we got here. From Havets vargar (2000) to Nattväsen (2009), Månegarm was among the hardest-hitting of the folk metal vanguard. They blended black metal’s blasting intensity with violin counterpoint (and solos), and Erik Grawsiö’s gravel-throated roar. But following Nattväsen, Månegarm underwent a serious change. With the departure of their violinist and bassist, Grawsiö moved to bass, but more importantly, they emerged with a retooled sound. By 2013’s Legions of the North, Månegarm had begun shaping themselves towards something more akin to Amon Amarth’s mid-paced crunch than the blastful abandon of their black metal roots. Edsvuren continues the same trajectory, letting the flames burn low rather than trying to rekindle the blaze; content to let the embers glow.

When the wind blows right, however, Månegarm’s fire burns bright. When these Swedes go heavy, the results are still vital—some of the best metal they’ve released in years. The opening trifecta demonstrates this: “I skogfruns famn” brims with trem-picked harmonies, fiddle, and melodies and pacing that evoke Isengard or Lumsk. “Lögrinns värn” picks up the pace and builds on Amon Amarthian heft, while “En Blodvittneskrans”—one of the album’s standout tracks—crackles with surprisingly punk-inflected drumming and tremelos that transport me to Bjoergvin. On the album’s back half, we again find heavy tracks that brim with harmonic minor riffing, fantastic vocal harmonies, and creative songwriting. “Skild från hugen” stretches into a seven-minute epic, weaving gallops, fiddle, and a doomy interlude where Elinor Videfors’ smoky alto helps to elevate the song. While “Likgökens fest” follows with another blast of urgency. In these moments, Månegarm is vibrant and confident, with a powerful sound and presence.

Much of Edsvuren, however, lives in the embers. Acoustic folk tracks like “Rodhins hav,” “Till gudars följe,” and “I runor ristades orden” aren’t filler; they’re beautiful. The production places each acoustic strum and hand drum with care, and Videfors’ voice adds a crystalline, haunting quality. Ancient and evocative, these songs are built on droning harmonies and modal folk melodies. And they sound great. In listening to these, I’m reminded of Panopticon’s Laurentian Blue, folk music with fiddle and a deep melancholy.³ The problem is proportion. Nearly half the record lives in this slower, acoustic, or mid-paced heavy space. And when stacked back-to-back (“Rodhins hav” through “Hör mitt kall,” and then again in the closing pair of songs), the album sputters. At 51 minutes, Edsvuren isn’t overlong, but there are moments when the pacing lengthens the album.

The vocals provide the oxygen that keeps Edsvuren burning, showcasing some of the finest arrangements Månegarm has ever recorded. Grawsiö’s extreme vocals remain commanding, but it’s his cleans—gravelly and full,⁴ at times evoking throat singing—that unite Edsvuren. The interplay with the guest vocalists—Elinor Videfors, Grawsiö’s daughter Lea on “I skogfruns famn”—is well balanced. And at its best, the record gives the impression that you’re sitting around the campfire and listening to them sing. Choruses bloom into layers of voices that feel almost ritualistic—but at least communal—and are balanced expertly in the mix (“Till gudars följe”). There’s an almost Finntrollian playfulness in the vocal arrangements at times (again, “Till gudars följe”), while at other times the harmonies are clinically tight like harmonic minor Bad Religion or early Soen. Even when the riffs tread familiar ground—or the album feels like it’s slowing down too much—the vocals continually elevate compositions and keep me hooked.

Edsvuren is an album that’s easy to like, but tricky to love. But I can say with confidence that it’s my favorite Månegarm since the Napalm run began in 2013. The heavy material is vital, energetic, and it reminds me of why I fell in love with these Swedish wolves to begin with. The folk songs and feel are brittle and beautiful, and give the album character and variety. Unfortunately, the overall balance of the record leans a little too hard into mid-tempo riffs, rock feels rather than blastbeats, and acoustic folk music—resulting in pacing that makes it feel less than the sum of its Very-Good!-to-Great! parts. I enjoy the songs, I admire the craft, but taken as a whole, they leave Edsvuren a little low on bite. Edsvuren may not spark anew Månegarm’s flames, but it tends the embers—keeping them warm enough for fellowship, beer, and song.

Rating: Good!
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream⁵
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: linktr.ee/manegarmofficial | manegarm.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: August 29th, 2025

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I’ll say this for the 2025 version Unleashed: they still pack a lot of vim and vigor in their raiding kit. Opener “Left for Dead” gives no quarter, coming for your head like a rabid berserker. It’s heavy, mean, and reminds me of the extra-nasty stuff on their Where No Life Dwells debut, before they adopted the whole Viking schtick. Hedlund sounds large and pissed off, and the riffs have weight and teeth. “A Toast to the Fallen” keeps the heaviness flowing while shoehorning in lines about toasting the fallen and hailing Thor at every possible opportunity. Since I’m never opposed to hailing and toasting Thor, I have no beef, and it’s a fun, beer-swigging tune for the bold. From there, Unleashed run like an everflowing stream from one ballsy beat down to another like “War Comes Again,” with aggression and urgency balanced adroitly with nods to macho melodeath. It’s a classic Unleashed cut and hits the spot like the blood of one’s enemies. The burly, battle-hardened title track feels like it came from their Midvinterblut album, which is one of my personal favorites, so I enjoy it plenty.¹

The best part about Fire Upon Your Lands is the overall consistency of the material. There’s a pornucopia of raw energy and sizzle over the album’s 38 minutes, with pretty much every song delivering body blows. Even cheese-stuffed anthem “Hold Your Hammers High” works due to sheer caveman death metal seduction. Are there issues? Well, the track “To My Only Son” is like a shameless reboot of Manowar’s classic gem “Defender,” about a warrior’s letter to his son telling him how to live proudly. Hell, they even borrow the line, “As you read these words, I want you to know…”. Since I grew up blasting “Defender” a zillion times in my formative years, my brain autofills with “…that I would have been there to watch you grow. But my call was heard, and I did go.” It’s not a bad song, but it cuts way too close to a legendary moment in metal.² Closing cut “Unknown Flag” is a bit odd, since it seems to be about pirates and therefore conflicts with the whole Vikings ethos. It’s the weakest track here, but it isn’t a dead loss, just a touch underwhelming. With all the songs in the 2-4 minute window, things blast along at a frantic pace, their tried-and-true style sounding refreshed, reborn, and badass. It’s one of the most lively Unleashed platters, and it all hangs together well.

With the same lineup in place forever, the playing is tight, crisp, and effectively minimalist when needed, maximalist when it helps. Johnny Hedlund’s booming death vocals sound surprisingly ageless. He’s found the Fountain of Death Youth and snarls and roars like a much younger man throughout the Viking blitz. He’s always had a certain Neanderthal charm to his delivery, and it’s still present as he regales you with yarns about conquest and chronic mead abuse. Long-time axe tandem Tomas Olsson and Fredrik Folkare bring their riffy, gritty style to the field, delivering thuggy grooves, vicious leads, a touch of classic d-beatery, and interestingly fluid and melodic solo work. The riff quality is above average, and they drive the material hard. I’m especially fond of their work on “Left for Dead” and “A Toast to the Fallen,” and they bring just enough blackened rage to the party to spice up the more typical death lines.

After some 33 years in the raiding game, Unleashed don’t show their age on Fire Upon Your Lands. All the classic Unleashed trademarks are present, the writing is sharp, and the attitude is appropriately beastial and unyielding. I didn’t expect this much fire, and I’m very happy to be burned by it. Now it’s your turn to gird thy loins and push that enemy shield wall into the sea. Do it for Johnny!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Damn This Goddamn STREAM to Hades!!
Label: Napalm
Websites: unleashed.se/website/index.php | facebook.com/unleashed | instagram.com/unleashed_official
Releases Worldwide: August 15th, 2025

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The Ordo of Diabolicum is immediacy. Across eight tracks, Aran Angmar unleash more hooks than a fisherman’s erotica, with melodic runs, choruses, and catchiness to flay eardrums and boil blood. Eschewing the more tinny, underproduced sound of second wave in favor of a much more immediate, thicccboi Hellenic sound, every cut hits with fist-pumping flair. Using the riff game of older Uada with the vocal stylings of a much more death-inclined band, Aran Angmar offers up an album that, serious artwork aside, sounds far less inclined to the darkness and more bent towards sacrifice and courage. Moments ranging from the vaguely pirate metal crowd calling bop in “Hêlēl ben-Šaḥar”¹ to the enticingly heavy carrion splattering chug fest of the title track “Ordo Diabolicum” usher listeners from one slab of glory to another, each delivered with flair and flourish.

Enhancing Ordo Diabolicum is a heavy bent towards Mediterranean and Nordic instrumentation and texture. Surprisingly, this doesn’t come off as a cheap gimmick, but instead lends the choruses and hooks their own flavor. Kickoff track “Dungeons of the Damned” rocks a clean vocal wail of a line² which has no right to be as infectious as it is, lifting an already mighty chorus to new heights. “Aeon Ablaze” tinkers with Nile-style interludes by way of modern Mystifier ritualistic chants. “Primordial Fire” boasts a host of guest instruments³ which transitions into a bounce reminiscent of Labyrinthus Stellarum doing a folk metal cover. This commitment to diverse instrumentation beyond a mere contrivance for an easy tune pays massive dividends and keeps track after track refreshing and engaging.

All of this would be for naught if the album sounded wack. Mercifully, Aran Angmar avoid such a pitfall, with each performance on Ordo Diabolicum sounding crisp and sharp. The vocals of Lord Abagor are nasty, opting for an unusually guttural approach with a double-tracked higher shriek, channeling the swagger of Amon Amarth (particularly in closing song “Vae Victis”) with the menace of Immolation. Guitar lines from Mahees are piercing and rapturous, with clean tones erupting from hazy blasted trems. Leads are gorgeous and triumphant, with harmonized melodies in “Chariots of Death” and a beautiful solo in “Hêlēl ben-Šaḥar” standing tall among a litany of sing-along worthy licks and highlights. Alessandro Cupi’s drums are well placed; while never doing anything out of the ordinary, they come with thunder and thunk, adding heft and weight without ever overpowering the music on display.

We’ve arrived at the concluding paragraph, and I suddenly realize I’ve yet to heap scorn on much of anything. I suppose if I squint a bit, some of the atmospheric interludes don’t need to be as long as they are. The intro to “Crown of the Gods” sounds like a bit of an anticlimax compared to the rest of the album’s attention-gathering intros. And yet, I’m not sure I truly believe such ideas. Every time I’ve spun this album I’ve been left with a big dorky grin on my face, invisible oranges clutched firmly in bent palms, utterly and inarguably smitten. Aran Angmar have unleashed an album that has been an absolute joy to listen to, and a first contender for my end-of-year list. Get in on the Ordo while you can.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Soulseller Records
Websites: facebook.com/aranangmar | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 21st, 2025

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Wardruna

In all the right ways, Birna offers the same Viking-era folk music that Wardruna has provided since the beginning. Sawing taglharpas, the wistful yet powerful notes of a kraviklyra, the call of bukkehorns, and the deep reverberations of deer-hide drums; the full ensemble of Wardruna’s traditional, hand-crafted instruments lends an absorbing authenticity to their sound which is further brought to life by a sublime mix, done by composer Einar Selvik himself. As always, Selvik and co-founder Lindy-Fay Hella are a strong vocal duo; Selvik’s iconic voice is ever the focus, though Hella has what feels like a notably more active role in Birna than in previous albums. Birna is also a solid entry point for any readers discovering Wardruna for the first time, as the music encompasses all the stages of Wardruna’s sound. The vocal melodies and dark, brooding drone of “Tretale” hark back to the mysticism of Gap var Ginnunga and Yggdrasil, the dramatic horn blasts in “Birna” call to mind the finality of Ragnarok, and the skaldic beauty of Selvik and his lyre in “Hibjørnen” continues the pattern begun in Kvitravn and, more pertinently, Skald.

But Birna is more than a chronology of Wardruna’s evolution. Conceptually, Birna is a response to the upheaval suffered by bears in nature (Birna means “she-bear”), musically harnessing the bear’s natural strength and signaling a hopeful end to their forced hibernation through a motif of spring. The music of Birna radiates with intent, carefully constructing this idea across every element. It can be as small as warm, dancing flutes and Hella’s vocal melodies (“Ljos til Jord,” “Himinndotter”), or even just the chirping of birds (“Dvaledraumar,” “Jord til Ljos”), gently exuding a quiet optimism. Or it’s the awesome, primal majesty of the bear, viscerally felt through resounding horns, beating drums, or Selvik’s fervent vocals (“Hertan,” “Birna,” “Himinndotter,” “Skuggehesten”). I would describe it as a change in color; the dark, earthy green and brown of Wardruna’s music has begun to incorporate vibrant shades of orange and yellow. It’s a compelling shift in tone from Wardruna’s darker vibes of the past, and it works beautifully through the sincerity with which it’s performed and the rich texture of traditional instruments and natural sounds that has always characterized Wardruna.

If there were aught I might criticize about Birna, it would be how “Hibjørnen” fits into Birna’s pacing. After the low-energy—but no less beautiful—”Dvaledraumar” and “Jord til Ljos,” the frenetic beat of “Himinndotter” rebuilds a momentum that’s poised to continue at the song’s conclusion, but is instead interrupted by the skaldic pace of “Hibjørnen.” While I wish it was placed but one or two songs later, it’s nevertheless a beautiful song, and this most minor of gripes only arises due to how well the diversity of Birna’s music is paced in all other regards. Birna starts strong with the poignant, absorbing “Hertan,” which flows directly into the equally powerful “Birna.” The heavily ambient “Dvaledraumar” was a nice surprise that, at 16 minutes long, could have derailed Birna’s pace but fits snugly as the fourth song, and is a captivating crawl through a tar-thick, dream-like ambiance that transitions perfectly into “Jord til Ljos.” Finally, Birna wraps up its themes with “Lyfjaberg” (old Norse for “healing mountain”), Wardruna’s best song since “Helvegen.” It’s a gradual, gripping crescendo of impassioned chanting and singing; a vital plea, commanding in its urgency, reminding us of the respect and reverence nature needs, and deserves, from us.

Within the thriving Nordic folk ecosystem, Birna is clear evidence that Wardruna remains within a league of their own, a powerful reminder of the sway Wardruna holds within people’s hearts. In Selvik’s own words, Wardruna serves as a bridge between people and the natural world. The sounds of nature, the effortless melodies played by instruments that carry the weight of history, the electrifying voices of Selvik and Hella; together, they grow into an irresistible heartbeat, one that you realize was in you from the beginning. Do not miss Birna.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps
Label: By Norse / Sony Music
Websites: warduna.com | facebook.com/wardruna
Releases Worldwide: January 24th, 2025

Dr. A.N. Grier

Wardruna is probably best known for contributing to the highly acclaimed Vikings television show. And why not? Wardruna is about as authentic as you can get. Technically a duo, Lindy-Fay Hella and Einar Selvik have been using traditional Norwegian instruments and guest contributors to carry us through majestic fjords and Viking war paths for nearly fifteen years. Luckily for me, I knew and enjoyed Wardruna well before I saw Gustaf Skarsgård’s sexy ass. Though the band has many o’ great albums, 2018’s Skald proved to be one of my favorite albums that year. Unfortunately, we’ve never received promos from the band, so I couldn’t spread my loving praise on an AMG page. Until now.¹ While I could have lived without Mystikus Fuckbeard asking (for months) if we’ve received the promo, I’m glad we got Birna, and that I got to piggyback review with him. While I might be late as fuck on this review, Birna does not disappoint. But, in all honesty, they never did.

With all the different variations of folk metal, Wardruna is the most straightforward of the bunch. Not that their compositions are simple. Not by any means. But, if you’re expecting the headbanging Viking anthems of Amon Amarth or the Valkyrie-screaming passages of Bathory, stop now and readjust yourself. Wardruna is anything but that. Instead, their music invokes the ancient times of Viking culture when men were men and women were women. Or something like that. Incorporating beautiful male/female vocal duets, traditional chanting choruses, and massive atmospheres with instruments sourced from animal parts, listening to Wardruna is like sitting around a fire, drinking mead after annihilating an entire village of lowly peasants.² With Birna, Warduna is, yet again, in top form.

If you’ve heard the band, you know that drums are the foundation of any Wardruna song. The opening track, “Hertan,” kicks things off with a soft heartbeat that reverberates through your chest before the male vocals appear, mimicking the rhythmic beat. As the intensity increases, the chants and distant choirs elevate the track. On the back half, it snaps the trance as the two vocalists duet their way into the snowy clouds. The title track follows the opener and delivers those tasty movie soundtrack elements. Beginning with a soft beat and female vox, the beautiful lyre arrives before the eruption of instrumentation, choirs, and booming male leads. Rising and falling throughout its seven-minute runtime, “Birna” is one of those Wardruna songs that explores every facet of the band’s skills, building layer on layer until the bitter end.

Yet, the most epic of the bunch is the nearly seventeen-minute “Dvaledraumar.” Using the sounds of nature as its core, each flute, horn, and percussion instrument sings as if a lone member is standing atop the highest hill of a lush prairie playing their hearts out at dawn. Each build begins with gentle pluckings as new layers are added, intensifying the varying moods of the song. “Dvaledraumar” traverses moods of complete relaxation, damning sinisterness, and other emotions that took my simple mind on a rollercoaster ride. But, probably the coolest combination of moods is “Himinndotter.” After the male leads hijack the female ones, this song transitions to the closest thing to a chorus on Birna. Which is fucking gorgeous. Then, the track drops into a low, dark place controlled by graveling vocals and simple, yet angry-sounding drums. But that chorus returns, ripping you from the thorns and placing you in the halls of Valhalla. But the best song on the record is the closer, “Lyfjaberg.” I can’t tell you exactly why this track hits me so hard but it’s damn near perfect. Clocking in at over nine minutes, it controls itself while introducing new builds, leads, and a passion that closes the album perfectly.

Though one would argue that “Lyfjaberg” might have been a last-minute inclusion, as it has existed since 2020, it’s perfect for Birna. So, I don’t fucking care. Perhaps the least enthusiastic songs are “Ljos til Jord” and “Hibjørnen,” but they aren’t so bad that they corrupt the flow. The first is odd coming off the mighty title track, while the latter is overly simplistic—even if it still delivers a fitting tone. The dynamics are interesting because they seem deliberate. Averaging at a DR8, they range from the “heavier” DR6 tracks to the breathable DR13 tracks. Having a bit of oomph for those moments where more intensity is needed and allowing the softer moments to open up is a rather clever approach. Once again, Wardruna does not disappoint, dropping another album that continues to portray the culture of olde, while producing gorgeous tracks and a satisfying flow.

Rating: 4.0/5.0

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Considering the theme comes from Māori mythology and some of the lyrics are in its language, I was starting to think founder Per Lümbersson or vocalist Meta List must have had Māori roots, but I was mistaken. If you expected those influences to extend to the music, like how Alien Weaponry uses Haka structures in their riffs, you’d be mistaken, too. Instead, Aeon of Awareness pays tribute primarily to chunky Scandinavian melodic death, most obviously Amon Amarth. Though some tracks (“Lebenslast,” “Hine-nui-te-pō”) wrap the package in more melancholic, Insomniummy bookends, once the big mid-paced riffs start coming, they don’t stop coming. While arguably derivative, the hooks have the required size and energy to get the head bobbing and the face stanking, and they are more than a match for the Swedish Vikings’ more recent offers, in particular the thundering main riff of “Lebenslast.”

The back half branches out a little more. “Ira Di(e)mensions” hikes the speed and aggression up to something more akin to Unleashed, and “Fort Forest” holds a thrashy edge before gradually slowing down past the midway point. “King Kauri” even throws in some harmonies that seem to be inspired by Be’lakor. Though Aeon of Awareness still doesn’t escape the feeling of swéjà vu, it mixes up the compositions and varies the pace and approach enough to keep Rarohenga reasonably fresh and engaging across the brisk 40 minutes.

But where the guitars steal the show with fun headbangable riffwork, and the bass puts on a nice supporting rumble, the vocals and drums lag behind. Neither is outright bad, though. The growls simply lack both personality and impact, remaining confined to a low, stoic and slightly breathy growl, with occasional backup from an unconvincing blackened rasp. There’s not much variety to its delivery, and that leads to levelling out the intensity of the music as a whole, paying with dynamics in execution more than in songwriting. The drums are a different issue though. They are played with competence and enthusiasm, but everything sounds so triggered I actually thought it was a drum machine at first. Every kick and every snare is at the exact same volume, which can get grating fast when the blasts begin. I’m not enough of a music producer to deduce the cause of the problem; all I know is, despite crediting a human drummer, they sound as mechanical as programmed drums.

All things considered, The Embracing Light of Rarohenga is a promising debut with a few issues holding it back. The core is there; solid songwriting, strong hooks, a good sense of flow and variety. Aside from the drums, the production is competent, the mix very decent. But Aeon of Awareness desperately needs something to stand out from the crowd. Wearing your inspirations on your sleeve is not a problem when you are firing on every cylinder across the board harder than any of your peers, but with quite average vocals and the issue of the flat-sounding drums, this band is not up to that level yet. But for those craving a bite-size dose of Amarthian riffs, you won’t be disappointed.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self-released
Websites: aeonofawareness.bandcamp.com | aeonofawareness.com | facebook.com/AoA666
Releases Worldwide: January 17th, 2025

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