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

The post Vreid – The Skies Turn Black Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

At last, a burst of cool calms the blood after a brutal summer, and the leaves are turning. Which means I was able to recruit a bunch of grubby little leaf-lookers off the highway to serve as minions to my ever-needy Filter! With a temporarily replenished staff of fools who are unwittingly risking their lives for mere nuggets, I conduct with renewed vigor the search for quality finds.

Today, I bring you those finds, in all of their sparkly glory. WITNESS THEM!

Kenstrosity’s Jaunty Juke

Jordsjuk // Naglet til livet [September 19th, 2025 – Indie Recordings]

The lack of conversation I’ve seen surrounding this Norwegian black metal riff machine is highly disconcerting. Brought to my attention by my wonderfully wise—and devilshly handsome—owlpal¹ from… GASP… another blog, Jordsjuk’s debut LP Naglet til livet has my spine whipping to a fro from the onset of ripping opener “Kollaps.” The whiplash doesn’t stop there as thrashy numbers “Grovt skadeverk” and “Skreddersøm” body me against several walls and even a couple of ceilings. For 36 relentless minutes, with only one song pushing the four minute mark, Naglet til livet is an unqualified triumph of editing and tight, effective songwriting. My immediate comparison is 2007-2013 Skeletonwitch, but some of these riffs, like the turbobangers on “Parasitt,” “Rottebitt,” “Klarhet og dybde,” and “Rennestein,” give those hallowed skellybois a serious run for their money. When they aren’t thrashing, Jordsjuk shift into a dour, but still ravenous black metal shadow. Wraiths like “Riv skorpen av såret” and “Svikter din neste” showcase this looming character quite well, and prove Jordsjuk to be dynamic, versatile songwriters. In short, Naglet til livet is a raucous good time for anyone craving black metal with sharp teeth and limitless energy.

Baguette’s Bouncy Blessing

Arjen Anthony Lucassen // Songs No One Will Hear [September 12th, 2025 – Inside Out Music]

A year without an Arjen record would be a much lesser one. It’s not often the crazy Dutchman reuses a non-Ayreon project title, but here we have his fourth solo album becoming the second under the full Arjen Anthony Lucassen name! Dropping 13 years after the previous one, Songs No One Will Hear announces the end of the world is a mere five months away, its tracks depicting the resulting stages of chaos, disarray, and human silliness. It doesn’t fall far off the catchy and melodic Arjen tree but casts a wider net than prior prog rock adventures. Much of the record reflects different eras of Ayreon, including the ’70s prog whimsy of Into the Electric Castle (“Dr. Slumber’s Blue Bus”) and the fun ’80s metal edge of The Source (“Goddamn Conspiracy”). Closing epic “Our Final Song” is a microcosm of his musical breadth, shapeshifting from Jethro Tull flute shenanigans to analog synth ambience to dramatic riff bombast at will. But it’s “The Clock Ticks Down” that steals the spotlight, marking a brief return to the dark, somber grit of Guilt Machine and 01011001. It’s an unusually normal-sized album from Mr. Lucassen as well, the regular, unnarrated version being only 46 minutes and change. A condensed, jovial jack-of-all-trades showcase with many of the usual great guest musician and vocalist selections! And it’s always nice to hear him sing more, too.

Thus Spoke’s Lurid Leftovers

Fauna // Ochre and Ash [September 26th, 2025 – Lupus Lounge/Prophecy Productions]

It’s been 13 years since Cascadian black metal duo Fauna released Avifauna, to quiet yet great acclaim. Given their preoccupation with human prehistory, they might just be operating on a larger timescale than you or I. Ochre and Ash—the two main ingredients used in ancient cave paintings—is an attempt to invoke the spirit of forgotten ceremonies during which the stories of the people were immortalised on stone. Building on an atmospheric black metal base familiar in their better-known exemplars Wolves in the Throne Room and Agalloch, Fauna give Ochre and Ash a distinctive edge by roaming further afield into the experimental. For every metal-dominated track (“Nature & Madness,” “Labyrinths,” “Eternal Return”), there is an ambient, decidedly unsettling counterpart (“A Conjuring,” “Femoral Sun,” “Mockery”), and the latter are not interludes, but integral parts of the ritual. Each infuses skin-prickling drone with eerie chimes and rattles, and uncomfortable vocalisations ranging from moans and wails to laughter and the howling, yipping cries of animals—or humans mimicking them. In their repetition of haunting, hollow sounds, they are both frightening and trance-inducing. Ochre and Ash’s metallic segments are no less ominous, treading as they do between confrontationally turbulent atmoblack² and diSEMBOWELMENT-adjacent death doom that puts me right back in the void of madness last year’s Spectral Voice generated. This is not a casual listen, and Fauna could have helped it a bit with some editing, as the weirdness combined with an excessive 70-minute runtime makes some longer passages feel tired and could be off-putting to some. Still, it’s an experience I’d recommend trying at least once.

Spicie Forrest’s Sautéed Surplus

Piece // Rambler’s Axe [September 5th, 2025 – This Charming Man Records]

Finding gym metal has always proven difficult for me. It’s not about the fastest or loudest, but about striking a balance between weight and pace. Rambler’s Axe fits the bill nicely. Influenced by the likes of Crowbar and High on Fire, these Berlin-based doomsters peddle raucous and sludgy heavy metal. There’s a bit of Conan in Piece’s DNA, too, making sure to worship each riff long enough for you to make it through any given set. Beefy basslines and aggressive, chiseled drums make it easy to drop into a groove and get your pump on. Faster cuts like “Demigod” and “Rambler’s Axe” go great with chest flies and leg press, but they’ve got tracks for bench press and deadlifts too. “Bastard Sword” and “Owl Eyes” rumble forward like the slow but inevitable rise of the barbell at max weight. Whether marching or running, baritone shouts like tank treads hang over riffs just looking for an excuse to blow off steam. Whatever your reason for visiting the glorious house of gains, Piece has your soundtrack covered.

Heruvim // Mercator [September 12th, 2025 – Self-Release]

As each passing year leaves the almighty Bolt Thrower further in the past, the yearning for that sound grows. I was quite surprised to find a small amount of solace in Heruvim, hailing from Odesa, Ukraine. I say small solace, because debut LP Mercator is more than just a clone. Augmented with the unsettling atmosphere of early Pestilence and the vocal malevolence of Sinister, this platter of old school death metal carves its own niche in a storied scene. Off-kilter leads bubble up and spew out of a murky, tarred rhythm section like prehistoric gases in a primordial soup (“Gnosis,” “Lacrimae Rerum”). Lachrymose, doom-laden passages and violent death threats trade back and forth, anchored by volatile blast beats and percussive assaults in the vein of Cannibal Corpse (“Nulla Res,” “Mercator”). Stitched together with eerie, short-and-sweet interludes, Mercator’s lean 30 minutes fly by and always leave me itching for more. Heruvim riffs on a slew of classic sounds, creating a casual brutality and primal barbarism that is both compelling and uniquely their own.

ClarkKent’s Melodic Monstrosities

Galundo Tenvulance // Insomnis Somnia [September 17th, 2025 – Spiritual Beast Records]

Falling somewhere between symphonic deathcore acts Assemble the Chariots and Grimnis enters Japan’s Galundo Tenvulance. On their second full-length LP, Insomnis Somnia, the sextet demonstrates raw power and frenetic energy throughout its 41-minute runtime. Songs are anchored by catchy melodic leads, atmospheric symphonies, and punishing, relentless kitwork (no drummer is credited, so hopefully it’s not programmed). Galundo Tenvulance’s new vocalist, Sao, delivers the goods, bringing a spirited energy to her performance that elevates the already terrific material. While the symphonics don’t quite elevate the music the same way they do for Assemble the Chariots, it’s the melodic riffs that make these guys stand out. “Noble Rot” is the highlight, with a killer lead riff that uses harmonics to add just that extra bit of oomph. Other highlights include the catchy “Regret Never Sleeps,” evoking Character-era Dark Tranquillity, and “In The Realms of the Unreal,” which demonstrates their ability to transform solos into surprising melodies. This might be too good to have landed in the filter, but with my TYMHM slots filled up, it’s better than nothing.

Mortal Scepter // Ethereal Dominance [September 9th, 2025 – Xtreem Music]

As if we didn’t have enough thrash floating in the filter, French outfit Mortal Scepter finds itself as yet another piece of thrash dredged from the muck. This quartet has been around since 2012, yet Ethereal Dominance is only their second full-length release. Their sound lands somewhere between the melodic thrash of Bloodletter and the mania of Deathhammer—though a touch less zany. The persistent level of energy these bands can maintain never ceases to amaze me. While the constant beat of drum blasts threatens to make thrash songs sound too similar, the variety of melodies Mortal Scepter delivers ensures that things never grow repetitive. They have a raw, blackened sound that feels immediate and in your face. Drummer Guillaume keeps an impressive pace with fresh-sounding, nonstop blast beats, while vocalist Lucas Scellier snarls with enthusiasm, with a voice comparable to Deathhammer’s Sergeant Salsten. However, it’s the guitars by Maxime and Scellier that really bring the band to life, from the noodly melodies to the dynamic, lengthy, and impressive solos on each song. These guys prove they are more than just simple thrash metallers on the epic thrash, ten-minute finale, “Into the Wolves Den,” which uses a mix of tempo shifts and hooky melodies to make the song just fly by. With this second LP under their belts, these guys have proven themselves an exciting newish band on the thrash scene.

Grin Reaper’s Woodland Windfall

Autrest // Burning Embers, Forgotten Wolves [September 5th, 2025 – Northern Silence Productions]

Burning Embers, Forgotten Wolves merges atmospheric black metal with nature, resuming Autrest’s vision from debut Follow the Cold Path. Like Saor or Falls of Rauros, stunning melodies play across untamed backdrops that stir heartstrings in unexpected ways. Ethereal keys, mournful strings, and rapid-fire tremolos impeccably capture Burning Embers, Forgotten Wolves’ autumnal artwork, bringing Autrest’s imagery to life. Harsh vocals sit back in the mix, evoking windswept trees as cool harvest gusts leach branches of color, while sporadic baritone cleans add variation. “Lobos (Offering)” sets the stage with melancholic guitar plucks bolstered by forlorn strings, giving way to a controlled spark as “Ashes from the Burning Embers” ratchets up roiling vigor. Through forty-two minutes, Autrest expertly guides listeners across shifting landscapes that are delightful in their earnestness. Mastermind Matheus Vidor establishes himself as a preeminent architect of mood, channeling transitions from gentle, wonder-filled serenity to unyielding wrath. The dynamic between aggression and introspection is marvelous, permeating the album with emotion. While I could understand a complaint that some songs blur together, the spirit of Burning Embers, Forgotten Wolves is never stale or disposable. Rather, Autrest has taken what began two years ago and enriched it, composing an ode to self-discovery and transformation.³ My own experience with the music conjures wilderness’s last hurrah before succumbing to winter’s embrace. As days grow shorter and temperatures drop,⁴ I encourage you to seek refuge and draw warmth from these Burning Embers.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Very Not Late Novella

Sterveling // Sterveling [September 26th, 2025 – Self Release]

Between the world of atmospheric and post-tinged black metal, there exists a twisted form of progressive music that teeters about brooding moods and crackling tones to explore shrieking sadness and profound sorrow. Michiel van der Werff (Prospectors, Weltschmerz), primary Dutch proprietor of Sterveling, places his expressive guitar runs and lurching rhythm clangs in the company of trusted friends to carry out his tortured, baroque vision of black metal. Against the hissing design of synth maestro and Prospectors bandmate Matthias Ruijgrok, a fullness and warping warmth pervades the spacious amp textures and muscular rhythmic framework of each piece. And through the bloodied cries of Weltschmerz bandmate Hreim, a vocal lightning flashes to illuminate the nooks between pulsing synth lines and deathly bursts of full tremolo assault. In three longform pieces, all still totaling a generous forty-two minutes, Sterveling tints a monochrome narrative with vibrant shades from thoughtful tones and well-timed, emotional escalations. Committed to each careful iteration on a melody, the woven Sterveling web grows ever stickier with every passing moment, none of the ten-minute-plus excursions ever feeling even close to their declared runtimes. And with a sound construction that hits delicate yet forceful, creaking yet incising, it’s easy to wander through several journeys on this debut outing before realizing what time has passed. Fans of equally forlorn acts like Tongues or Andalvald will feel more at home here than others. But with a tonal palette that’s as inviting as it is crushing, Sterveling should attract the ears of fans across the extreme spectrum.

The post Stuck in the Filter: September 2025’s Angry Misses appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Any fear that I was in for some weepy post-metalcore with nasally cleans disappeared as the d-beat drums and beatdown riffs of first advance single “Jernbur” filled my Heavys. This is tough guy hardcore, but without the cocky barked vocals of most bands I’d categorize that way. Instead, vocalist Hallgeir Skretting Enokssen has an enviable harsh delivery for both gang-shouts and the death growls he frequently slips into across Primal Pulse Thunder’s nine songs. In fact, hardcore may be the structure of Purified in Blood’s sound, but melodeath is the cladding. The style pops up all over, from the tremolo sprint in the otherwise knuckle-dragging title track, to the bridge in “Key and Stone,” to the the harmonized chorus in “Jernbur.” While the band started as hardcore (sorry) proponents of the straightedge ethos, resembling Earth Crisis in philosophy and in sound , the remaining members have since dropped the overt social politics of it lyrically. Instead, there’s a lot of rumination on transcending a world on fire, and no small amount of chest-thumping declarations.

There are significant strengths to discuss on Primal Pulse Thunder, but the most impressive is how hardcore and death metal serve each other as the band deftly blend or switch between the styles. The title track is a great case in point. Before listening to a single note, I read the album’s title and thought “that sounds stupid.” Those three words in that combination came across as try-hard toughness. But by packaging those words in a perfect blend of dummy caveman death riffs and slowed-down beatdown, the song has me wanting to see it played live so I can join in shouting “PRIMAL! PULSE! THUNDER!” And then there’s that late tremolo riff that packs tons of Amon Amarth swagger into the song as Enokssen roars “I refuse to be killed! Set fire to everything!” Purified in Blood know exactly what each of their two main styles are for, and they deliver several choice cuts of monstrously heavy metalcore.

That’s not to say Primal Pulse Thunder is a world beating record. It’s long for as much hardcore as it has at 50 minutes, and there is definitely bloat that wouldn’t be missed if it were cut. The two song stretch of “Ascend to Nothing” and “Spiritual Thirst” is where that trouble begins. The first of these is actually a welcome slow down after the white hot intensity of the tracks up until that point, with a nice mid-paced groove that helps the record breath. Unfortunately it’s followed by an even slower, more experimental song. “Spiritual Thirst” is the low point of the album, starting with un-asked for throat singing, stick clicking, and riff development that feels out of place among the otherwise tight writing. At nearly eight minutes, it’s also the second longest song on the album. The longest, 11 and a half minute closer “Portal,” fits the album much better, but it’s fair to say a song like standout “Jernbur” does everything “Portal” does, but in almost a third of the time.

Relatively minor bloat issues aside, Primal Pulse Thunder is a three word phrase that, despite it’s awkwardness on the page, now conjures for me the sweaty basement shows and the live-wire energy I experienced as a 20 year old. I remember friends at the time telling me “You can’t listen to this kind of music forever.” Oh, can’t I?

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: purifiedinblood.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/purifiedinblood
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

The post Purified in Blood – Primal Pulse Thunder Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Not only is it gonna be on the list, it might obliterate all the competition altogether! Comparing God Slayer to Viperous, Per Valla (founder and sole bandmember, who does everything except drums) claims to have composed God Slayer with an increased focus on hooks rather than speed. He’s only about half right. Granted, the hooks are many, and they are razor-sharp, utterly addictive, and will stick in your skull morning til night. But well over half of God Slayer is every bit as expeditious as its predecessor. The opening salvo is a triple serving of Vredehammer at its best: muscular riffs at high speed, Valla’s crunchy growls, and drums not unlike a murderous machine (this time courtesy of Dominator, of Dark Funeral and Nordjevel fame). The first act culminates in the colossal violence of “God Slayer” whose indomitable chorus and epic mid-track build make me feel able and eager to reduce mountains to rubble with my forehead. Take this track into the gym and you will be hurling the barbells into the ceiling.

Though every track is a feast of riffs fit for a demigod warlord, each has a clear, singular identity. “From the Abyss” has an apocalyptic vibe with a focus on a single main hook, whereas “The Joker” utilizes frequent speed changes and a looser song structure to keep you on the wrong foot. There are epic dark fantasy overtones to “The Dragons Burn” and its shimmering tremolos, while the furious and feral “Blood of Wolves” lives up to its title with sheer unbridled aggression. The synths that made such an industrial affair of Viperous are less prominent, moving the focus back to the guitars, but they return to the spotlight on a few occasions, particularly on the album’s third act. One such occasion is “Death Becomes the New Day,” which stands out in a line-up of excellence as the sole ‘merely really good’ track, lingering a bit too long on medium intensity. But hot on its heels comes the extra-catchy “Product Human Slave” with its death ‘n roll rhythms and cyberpunk interlude to restart the riff-machine.

If you’re still waiting for a ‘but’ you can keep waiting. All I got is a tiny handful of minor nags and niggles, most of which have their own buts. Closer “Obliterator” isn’t quite as memorable as most of the tracks preceding it and ends the album a bit sudden, but it’s still very impressive with a killer ascending midsection. The dynamic range has gone off a cliff from a 9 to a 5, but somehow the production comes out none the worse for wear. The master sounds great, compact and burly but not overly tiring on the ears despite the often dense sound and high tempo. There is little detectable loss of impact to the delectable drums, and the mix is spot on, with nothing getting buried or doing the burying.

Vredehammer has repeatedly demonstrated to be in the upper echelons of blackened death metal. Violator meshed raw power with addictive hooks, Viperous upped the speed and unflinching attitude. God Slayer combines the best of both to become the peak of the band’s illustrious career. It’s five gallons of adrenaline pumped through a wrought iron IV. It’s a nuclear train with no brakes that won’t even slow down after it leaves the tracks. It’s addictive like speedballs and victory, and as catchy as Captain Trips from The Stand. It’s singular in its vision of uncompromising headbangability with all the variety of a perfect anthology. It’s 40 minutes of me wanting to bare-knuckle mythological beasts to death. It’s the best album I’ve heard this year. Get it.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: PCIM
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: vredehammer.bandcamp.com | vredehammer.no | facebook.com/vredehammer
Releases Worldwide: May 24th, 2024

The post Vredehammer – God Slayer Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

If nothing else, the genre descriptor is apt, though anyone hoping for a bucket of garage grime will need to look elsewhere. Bokassa drapes light stoner riffs à la Fu Manchu over a simplistic pop-punk framework. Musically it’s closer to latter-day Rise Against or even Sum 41 than Dead Kennedys or The Exploited. There’s not much gritty DIY in the production either, which is reasonably polished and not too loud, though the snare is a tad aggressive in the mix.¹ The result exceeds the term accessible; if rock was still played on the radio, Bokassa wouldn’t feel out of place on an average alternative station. The only disqualifying factor might have been the gruff vocals, a smoother version of Orange Goblin with the occasional gang woah-ohs.

If this description sounds disparaging, you’re not entirely wrong. Bokassa goes straight for the lowest common denominator, eschewing anything cerebral for the sake of easy absorption. But that’s what they’re good at: you’ll know over half the choruses by heart after a single spin, even (or especially) those that are aggressively dumb, like “Gung Ho” or “Straight Edgelord.” For better or worse, this is music made for skate stunt compilation videos and backyard parties that’ll have the neighbors complaining. As such, the best tracks are those with high energy and infectious riffs, and the front half is packed with those. “The Ending Starts Today” fumbles the chorus with some ill-advised mumbling but has otherwise no shortage of spirit, and “Garden of Heathen” (featuring Lou Koller of Sick of it All) is catchier than it has any right to be. The band even tackles January 6th with the fun “Let’s Storm the Capitol.”²

Bokassa does like to mix it up with some slower tunes, though, and that doesn’t always work in their favor. “Gung Ho” is easy to remember but its repetitive mid-pace makes it a slog, and the awkward title track lurches confusingly between different mismatched tones. There are energy drains in the vocal department as well: as the vocals work best when they’re raucous and self-assured, the mood drops whenever the rather lethargic cleans pop up, whether in solo droning intonations or unenthusiastic group whooping. Strangely, despite slowing things down and including lethargic clean vocals for the refrain, the full-blown doom closer “Crush (All Heretics)” does manage to charm. A solid Black Sabbath riff pulls that cart, and the hummed chorus adds a layer of mystery. It’s a weird closer for a stoner punk album, but it does help pull it together at the finish line.

9 out of 10 times I’ll commend a band for attempting to include different moods, angles, and energeticnesses across their album. All Out of Dreams takes a swing at this philosophy, but Bokassa has a very particular set of skills, and flounders whenever they try to spread their wings. It’s not a bad album at all; it’s catchy as hell, and at least half the tracklist is ready to be plundered for party playlists. The tight editing and short duration support the fun factor, and you can do much worse for a quick bout of low-brow punk energy with fuzz. There are just a few too many dings to recommend the entire package with my full throat. If Bokassa tries to switch up fast with even faster next time, we might get better results.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: bokassaband.bandcamp.com | bokassaband.com | facebook.com/bokassaband
Releases Worldwide: February 16th, 2024

The post Bokassa – All Out of Dreams Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

VAK reminds me of a dozen bands and doesn’t sound quite like any of them. The foundation is in sludge, but not the thundering, bottom-heavy kind. A closer comparison would be the ramble of The Melvins, with all the grunge bits replaced by screeching, feedback-laden meltdowns that tear at the flesh like meat hooks. The drums emphasize this slicing-over-bludgeoning focus; the snare hits the hardest, sometimes even recalling military drum rolls (“Speed of Images”). A hefty dose of noise-core atonality rubs salt and vinegar in the wounds, while waves of thick synthesizers carefully pick the right moment to flood the room with neon light before retreating to the background. The vocals are not pretty, not even especially skilled, but between the wheezing, venomous screams and the acerbic spit-spraying over-pronunciation, there is a biting vigor, raging at the dregs of society with a dark madness that borders on the theatrical, and it’s exactly what the music requires.

Instrumental opener “Passport” is the most synthy of all, suckling greedily from the teat of darkwave and lulling you into a false sense of cyberpunk security, but that blanket is torn to shreds as soon as “Panorama” begins its nasty and distorted broadcast. VAK quickly proves itself a capable unit in both song- and albumcraft, and though some tracks are comparable, none feel remotely like the band is repeating a step. “Sewer Café” flits between a burly punk rhythm that feels like navigating an overcrowded downtown with a panic attack, and a crushing riff that leaves downtown a smoking crater. “Q&A” finds vocalist Jesper Skarin at his most rabid, hissing intonations through clenched teeth, stressing every consonant leaking with pure rage.

From there on out, The Islands enters more psychedelic territory, employing more cyclical patterns that nonetheless manage to stay interesting through the subtle evolution of the many textures and a solid sense of rising and plunging. Still, the back-to-back “Speed of Images” and “The Map” don’t manage to hit quite as hard as the preceding material.¹ Thankfully, there is “Bodies” to raise the bar with an excellent jagged and barbed hook, absolutely crushing and demented riffs, and the mad refrain of ’MASSES FOR REVIEW’ likening packed public transportation to slaughterhouse trucks. It’s a dark and mighty highlight before “Melody Junkie” bookends the album beautifully, asking ’What would be the melody we fight for and makes us disagree?’ before answering the question by bringing back the synths from “Passport,” mangled and distorted. I do love a good callback.

The Islands is not pretty, polished perfection. The lengthier tracks could benefit from a shave, though the album does not feel too long overall. Some details leave me scratching my head, and the bewildering lyrics manage to be both on-the-nose in their expression and opaque in their meaning. But it’s all part of the weird and wonderful nightmare the album pulls you into. It’s rare enough to find a band with a voice wholly its own these days, but VAK pulls it off with daring authenticity, killer songwriting and absolutely rancid atmosphere. The Islands is an absolute treat and one that I will definitely make room for in my year-end list.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: vakband.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/vaksthlm
Releases Worldwide: September 1st, 2023

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The Rift is the post-metal album of 2022 because of its masterful layering. Gloson’s sound is a carnival for the ears that weaves together elegant melodies, distorted rhythmic guitars, and ironclad bass lines. The Rift often appends these elements slowly until they stifle you, like the “Dark City Dead Man”-reminiscent climax of album highlight “Cerberus IV (Exodus).” Conversely, when Gloson peels back these layers incrementally on tracks like “Windbearer,” it illustrates how perfectly they fit together. This careful construction allows Gloson to wreak havoc even with simple ideas. Indeed, the album’s greatest triumph is a two-note theme on “Cerberus” that Gloson introduces over a morose melody, builds up, distorts, passes off to a new guitar, and finally releases from its shackles. It’s a masterclass in thoughtful simplicity.

The Rift is home to some of the greatest transitions of the year. ​​Samuel Envik’s drums go a long way on this front; in addition to stealing the show with mesmerizing rhythms (“Stygian and Aberrant”), his pounding drum lines serve as a backbone and a home base for Gloson’s melodic escapades. Gloson’s riffs also fit together seamlessly, and The Rift often uses a few beats of foreshadowing to lead gracefully into new sections (“Impetus”). This meticulous songwriting ensures that the ebb and flow of The Rift feels natural.

The result is an album that grabbed me and stabbed me through the heart. The Rift’s combination of sparse melodies and crushing climaxes is stunning in its emotional force. I’m left dumbstruck throughout the record, like when the somber main melody of “Windbearer” is stripped bare or when the pieces of “Cerberus” coalesce before unraveling into insanity. These sections would hit even harder if the production gave a bit more room for each instrument to shine. Still, every time I listen to the album, I find new details to appreciate and new soft spots in my own heart.

I won’t soon forget the first time that Gloson’s “Ultraviolet” struck me. It was late on a weeknight in March during a horrible week, and I was sulking on the 4/5 train platform at Fulton St. Everything washed over me at once: the hopeless intro, the subtle guitar interplay in the first half, the jaw-dropping transition out of funeral doom, the octave-hopping of the main lead, the hypnotic rhythm, and the guitars’ transformation from tranquility to frantic tremolo. I left my train in a stupor, feeling like I’d been whisked onto Mars for a century.

This, to me, is the mark of excellent post-metal: this indescribable ability to transport me away from my hamster wheel into a universe of melody, rhythm, and emotion. Lose yourself in The Rift.

Tracks to Check Out: “Windbearer,” “Cerberus IV (Exodus),” “Ultraviolet”

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I remember the end of 2015 like it was yesterday. There I was, putting my top ten together with ease and confidence and, at the same time, listening to Kampfar’s then-new album, Profan. Multi-tasking on my list, making Jørn puns, and taking notes for my review of Profan, I immediately realized I was fucked. It took only one spin of Profan to tell me I’d start from scratch. I should have known. I mean, what was I thinking reviewing a Kampfar album and not considering its inclusion in the holiest of all lists? For those of you posers that don’t know, Kampfar is untouchable in the pagan/black metal realm. And they’ve been ruling it with a bloody battle axe for almost 30 years. Now, they are back again to threaten my year-end list with Til Klovers Takt. But, unlike Profan or even Ofidians Manifest, Til Klovers Takt explores all that is Kampfar. It plays out more like a best-of-release than a standalone record. Each song explores songwriting structures from the band’s past and present. Yet, somehow, it’s brought together in a strategic tracklist. Welcome to pagan metal heaven.

Til Klovers Takt has all the modern flavors of Kampfar—including unhinged black metal assaults, melodic atmospheres, and vocal arrangements as big as Valhalla. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, no band incorporates these elements as well as Kampfar. While distant violins break your heart and blistering-fast guitars drive to the apex, bellowing Viking chants support Dolk’s desperate rasps. And that’s not one song; that’s all of them. Each track tries to one-up the other as the album approaches the inevitable epic climax. How the band does it, I have no idea. But the intensity always claps like thunder in the closer, finally breaking the tension built up for the last forty-five minutes. It satisfies my old bones better than any sexy massage ever could.

And, boy, does it get started in a hurry. Opener, “Lausdans under Stjernene,” wastes no time with elaborate introductions. Like Kampfar of old, it unleashes a tasty black metal riff that snaps your kneecaps and sprawls you on the floor. “Lausdans under Stjernene” is classic Kampfar in all its building, crushing, ominous glory. “Rekviem” also hits you where it hurts. But, approaching the album’s end, the layers begin to form. Those booming Viking vox drive the song from the background as Dolk delivers some seriously nasty rasps. As the song progresses, a new layer adds to the previous one. From gnarly atmospheres of churchy key work (that brings to mind Dimmu Borgir) to passionate string interludes, the song stomps to the mountaintop. As the guitars and drums approach their final build, the desperate vocals scream to the nighty stars.

While “Fandens Trall” has some truly remarkable guitar work—at times, venturing into old-school Mayhem territories—”Urkraft” and closer¹ “Dødens Aperitiff” are the best. “Urkraft” begins with eerie, distant vocals and booming bass before careening into a swirling mass of guitars and drums. This Primordial-esque plod eventually transitions to absurdly-fast guitars and blastbeats, supported by the increasing vocal presence. First, bombastic cleans support the rasps. Then, Viking metal chants bring the song to its mighty conclusion. As with so many Kampfar closers, “Dødens Aperitiff” pulls out all the stops. I can only describe the atmosphere as massive and damning. Even when the song halts to make room for clean guitars, doom fills the air. When it explodes into a maelstrom of guitars and drums once more, there’s no stopping it. The rasps spit like a rattler, and the cleans fill your ears with passionate pain. In its final minutes, I find myself pulled in. Taking my fingers from my keyboard, I can’t help but sit back in my chair and absorb it.

Til Klovers Takt also holds up to repeat listens. Not because you need to discover every nook and cranny but because you want to. As I said in my review for Profan, I will always be partial to older Kampfar. But this fantastic quartet continues to draw my attention away from albums like Kvass and Mellom Skogkledde Aaser and direct my attention to the new Kampfar. After a dozen listens, I have to put Til Klovers Takt alongside Profan. The atmospheres, intricacies, and calculating songwriting continue to blow my mind. I will never know how these guys continue to produce remarkable albums after all these years. For those looking for an album to fill a void in your year-end list, look no further.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: kampfarornorway.bandcamp.com | kampfar.com | facebook.com/kampfarofficial
Releases Worldwide: November 11th, 2022

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A swan at the edge of what? A fucking mandala? You know, those monk-assembled sand drawings that they sweep away as a meditation.

These noodly Norwegians must have taken a quad shot of Opeth (old and new alike) between 2018’s Mind and ASbtEoM, as wanky thrash no longer serves as the base for a majority of what transpires—they’ve traded their high top kicks for a sleek chukka boot. That’s not to say shades of this potential future showed no prior signs, as our very own Ferrous Beuller had noted classic rock inflections and some other progressive nonsense on their last mixed effort. Now these ideas are cranked to 11, with the epic closer “Self” showing shades of both Yes and King Crimson rather than their younger, helium-headed Coroner selves. Somewhere along the last few years, singer Michael Eriksen reigned in his divisive shriek to a more complete and piercing timbre resembling a Vektor-ish wail, a comparison that feels apt given the similarly bright soundscape. Also fitting, lead guitarist¹ Daniel Emanuelsen developed an enveloping croon that gives heart to the gentler moments that lull about this collection of extended-run pieces.

Vorbid continues to shine its virtuosic light bright in this, arguably, more extravagance-welcoming setting, but scale salads and odd-time hors d’oeuvres do not a great album make. Everything on ASbtEoM sounds fantastic—cutting guitar tones, popping snare, guiding vocals, punchy bass—nary a fault to find amongst the well-dialed mix that weaves deftly through the industry-standard plus DR7. As such, this means that on the longest tracks (“Self,” “Ex Ante”), which push 11 minutes each, it’s easy to meld with the ear cushion that Vorbid lays out. Consequently, this also means that into this cushion we may sink as the dizzying array of quasi-jazz chord slides and big bluesy bends homogenize into one mass of congealed craftsmanship. Interrupting vocal moments, like the Vorbid of past, on ripping intros to the titular track and “Derealization” break up the lull more than any other element. Alas, their sparse use in the hour-long excursion leave me more tepid in light of the ever-present fretboard fury.

Unfortunately, ASbtEoM falls into the all too familiar pitfall of collapsing under its own lofty concept. In this case, Vorbid hopes to highlight the esoteric concepts of how fears and anxieties create self-inflicted tortures throughout the human experience, a theme well worth exploring. While “Ecotone” does set the stage with a main character who feels in the shadow of his brother, and supplements his confidence with trust in religion, the narrative doesn’t develop concretely from there. I get that it’s a philosophical piece, but the following three tracks afterward do little beyond a superficial exploration of how the child grows older and continues to have the same struggles. And even by the time that “Paradigm” hits us with the main character falling deeper into the clutches of religion so that they can, presumably, break free and realize the “Self”—in prog excess through extended solo breaks and a saxophone freak out—the journey plays out with many of closely related lyrical and musical ideas.

Ultimately, did Vorbid choose wisely to go down a path divergent from their thrash-fueled inception? Yes, though you may not see a high score below. Vorbid feels freer in exploration on A Swan by the Edge of Mandala than before. They have frustrated both my word count and delicate, prog-loving sensibilities with their recklessly loquacious titles and endlessly proficient instrumental talents by falling prey to the trappings of their own grandiosity. However, with youth and adventurous spirit on their side, they’ve got all the ingredients to craft a multi-course outing unquestionably worthy of your undivided attention—right by the edge of success.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM²
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: vorbid.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/vorbidband
Releases Worldwide: October 14th, 2022

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Well, Nordjevel certainly hasn’t attempted to dramatically reinvent itself as an entity. Centered around scalpel-sharp tremolos, frenetic blasts and the snarling, gurgling rasp of vocalist Doedsadmiral, Nordjevel is pitch-black black metal, with an almost immediately identifiable Scandinavian edge to it. Reminding me of Dimmu Borgir circa-Death Cult Armageddon (and minus the orchestra), Gnavhòl has a rampaging grandeur to it that borders on the symphonic. In the guitars, there are also traces of the most recent effort from Khold to be found in the tempest, which gradually builds as the record progresses.

Indeed, just like Necrogenesis, this is an album that gathers strength as it goes on, with Nordjevel really hitting its stride on the title track, just shy of halfway into through the 54-minute runtime. There, as on the next track, the excellent “Antichrist Flesh,” Destructhor’s guitars take on a slightly more melodic mien and are given a bit more room to breathe, with the trem picking occasionally giving way to some more interesting leads that wouldn’t be totally out of place on a Zyklon, or indeed Morbid Angel, record. That is not to suggest this is anything other than what it is, harsh and furious black metal but it feels like the band gets more willing to cut loose, the longer Gnavhòl goes on.

And go on the album does. For all the good work that Nordjevel does here—with the delicate, cascading opening to “Spores of Gnosis” and the venomous “Endritual” other highlights—there is no escaping the fact that this album feels long. Despite the songwriting getting more expansive toward the back end, Gnavhòl feels repetitive and like the same basic core is repeated again and again, without enough standout moments or hooks to really capture me or carry the length. This sense is certainly not helped by the drumming. While Dominator is technically very good, he relies far too much on metronomically precise blasts until we reach the likes of “Endritual”. This, when coupled with a slightly soulless production job, which gives the drums a clinical and sterile feel, makes for a somewhat exhausting listen.

Gnavhòl is still a good album but it is a slight step back from Necrogenesis, while managing to repeat the same mistakes that were made with that earlier record. While I would always rather an album got better, rather than worse, as it progresses, it’s a shame to see Nordjevel again delivering an album of uneven quality, with a notably stronger second half. The issue of bloat and self-editing remains, emphasized by the comparatively few standout moments. I enjoyed my time with Gnavhòl well enough and, for fans of well-executed black metal in the early Dimmu Borgir mold, there is solid, if not overly memorable, material here. Probably the less said about that hideously cliched band pic the better.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: nordjevel.bandcamp.com | nordjevel.com | facebook.com/nordjevelofficial
Releases Worldwide: September 23rd, 2022

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