While No Peace manifests many upgrades from their (admittedly good) debut, the biggest win might be that No/Más firmly institutes their identity. The change isn’t drastic, and No Peace is a natural progression from Consume/Deny/Repent, but the sophisticated onslaught supplied on this sophomore sweep oozes with sneering confidence. Following in the footsteps of Nails, No/Más balances grindcore, death metal, and hardcore/crust tendencies with playful intelligence, weaving together Full of Hell’s caustic bite, Napalm Death’s thuggish simplicity, and Jungle Rot’s warped melodicism into a densely packed third of an hour. And if those touchstones aren’t enough, No/Más unleashes Sepultura-informed grooves and a slow leak of Pro-Pain into their secret sauce. Not to fret, though, because despite all the influences, No Peace presents as a unified vision, and one that will rouse languid listeners into a frothing fancy.

No/Más’ instrumentation on No Peace sets a high bar with energetic performances, snapping necks with whiplash-inducing riffs and a license to thrill. Joe Vasta’s bass bounces and chugs with in-your-face rumbles throughout No Peace (“Abolition,” “Cycle of Sacrifice”), wielding a thick, surly tone that’ll rabbit punch you into head-banging if you’re standing still. Drummer Henry Everitt wallops the skins hard enough to rattle your ear bones, battering with furious fills (“Abolition”) and dropping to half-time backbeats (“No Peace”) as songs demand. It’s not all about the beatdowns, though, as No/Más injects a welcome helping of melody into No Peace. John Letzkus’ guitar slices through the faff to drench the album in a satisfyingly saturated buzz (“Act of Killing,” “Spineless”), though he also takes the reins and dazzles with efficient, arpeggiated leads (“Leech”) that I wish appeared more. Vocalist Roger Rivadeneira rounds out the quartet, shouting, growling, and screeching in a varied attack that demonstrates a willingness to experiment that was largely absent from Consume/Deny/Repent. In total, No/Más fires on all cylinders throughout No Peace, and never gives you a moment to come up for air.

With only twenty-two minutes on tap, No/Más leaves no room for inessential slop. And besides the half-minute intro flush with wall-of-sound static and indistinct yelling, they wildly succeed. As you’d expect from any decent grindy endeavor, no song pushes past its distilled essence, staying just long enough to rip and bludgeon before getting the fuck out of the way for the next track to exact its toll. No song eclipses the three-minute mark, and each exudes a rabid savagery that seethes with conviction. Additionally, No Peace sounds great—sure, the dynamic range scores low, but it’s exactly how this brand of overstimulating ass-kicking should sound. It’s well-mixed, abrasive, and highlights the rhythm section without sacrificing the sparse six-string fortitude. I wish there were a few more songs like “Leech,” partly because No/Más excels with the tunefulness, but also because I think it would address the biggest opportunity with No Peace—the compact composition allows little room for songs to establish unique flavors, leaving them to sometimes blur together. In the end, though, this is only a minor quibble, and there are many great moments to appreciate.

No/Más hasn’t redefined the DNA of deathgrind with No Peace, but they have contributed a worthy addition to its annals. Corrosive, pummeling bangers streamlined with minimal frills sum up to a blistering platter I’ve quite enjoyed. While I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing No/Más live, this crew boasts the hallmarks of a band that whips a crowd into a frenzy and ends with a broken bone or missing tooth. With twelve tracks running so lean, No Peace is helplessly easy to spin again and again. If they keep pumping out tunes this good, I can’t wait for what comes next. No más? No. Más.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Redefining Darkness Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 13th, 2026

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2024’s Doom Rules Eternally introduced founding member Kostas Salodmidis’ new project to the world and established Distorted Reflection’s core of doom. Combining Candlemass riffs with Sorcerer drama and a touch of Sorrows Path shred, that core carries over unchanged into Doom Zone. Kostas’ beefy riffs and screaming solos remain as present as ever, and so does his shaky baritone croon. Vangelis gains greater presence with his bass here, which is a welcome improvement over the debut, burbling in lockstep with riffs and offering counterpoint during solo breaks. Filling out the lineup, Thomas Zen pounds the skins with a swinging stomp that suits this doom-laden material like a fitted suit, classy and reigned into the pocket at all times. It might not be the most exciting or unique formula, but it works.

Unfortunately, Doom Zone lacks the one thing that made Doom Rules Eternally worth covering: charm. Doom Zone isn’t completely soulless, but its flaws dominate my experience, leaving very little room for Distorted Reflection’s earnest delivery and competent riffcraft to shine. Evident from the onset of opener “3000 A.D.” and unrelenting throughout the runtime, Kostas’ vocals conspire to distract and detract at almost every opportunity. Unstable vibrato, strained upper range¹, abysmal growls and repetitive melodic phrasing make tracks like “My Second Father,” “Gates of Paranoia,” “Tower of Dreams,” and “Morbid Reality” difficult to enjoy. Doom Zone’s songwriting is also noticeably weaker, suffering from a deeply repetitive structure and monotonous pacing that inevitably stalls any momentum individual elements (riffs, solos, choruses) initiate (“Asphyxiation,” “The Final Attempt”). It’s a good thing, then, that Doom Zone is short, clocking in at a responsible 39 minutes. Even so, it drags such that I routinely check my playback to see if I’m close to the end.

This is a shame, because Distorted Reflection are gifted musicians with great potential. Kostas filled Doom Zone with an arsenal of chunky riffs and high-octane solos (“3000 A.D.,” “Certain Death,” “Diminished,” “Morbid Reality”), many of which aptly reference the great works of the doom metal scene, though perhaps a bit too closely. Zen’s drumming is a perfect fit for this sound as well, and Vangelis’ bass noodling is a delight to hear with such clarity. More importantly, everybody understands their role and can play their instruments well enough to attract the spotlight without having to force it away from someone else. The overarching problem ultimately lies in the songwriting. With the exception of a few solid tracks at the album’s midpoint, like “Diminished,” Doom Zone wholly lacks the dynamics, the creativity, and the voice it needs to succeed.

Charm can go a long way to make me like something I would otherwise pass up. Distorted Reflection almost instantaneously lost the charm they once had after my time with Doom Zone. Unmemorable, uninspired, and at times downright irritating, Doom Zone fails to exhibit Distorted Reflection’s strengths in a way that overshadows their flaws. Instead, it accomplished the inverse. Flaws glare, making the process of picking out highlights a grind, and the experience of enjoying the good a chore. I still have hope that they can turn it around with album three, but as it stands, my recommendation is to leave Doom Zone behind while you traverse the doom zone.

Rating: Bad
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Iron Shield Records
Websites: distortedreflectiondoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/distortedreflectiondoom
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

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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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As an ambient album, Pike Dreams leans heavily towards synth, with touches of piano, barely-there percussion, and heavily-muted guitars. It carries a feeling of nostalgia that manifests dualistically in fuzzed-out soundscapes and grainy warmth à la Boards of Canada (“1066,” “1381”), and on the other through dungeon-synth, and quasi-medieval horns and melodies (“1328”). This seems appropriate given the record’s historical concept. Its modernity surfaces in subtle hints at an industrial edge to riffs that break the surface of haze and resonate between echoing pulses, reminding me fragmentarily of Phal:Angst and Haunted Plasma (“1066,” “1789,” “2026”). What Pike Dreams is most of all, however, is quiet. Regardless of the music’s precise direction, it remains blanketed by fog with every element subdued, magnifying the meaning of the word ‘reflection’ in the album’s description.

The Mountain King take the ‘less is more’ approach not only to volume, but also to the structure of the record and the compositions themselves. Pike Dreams could be described as fluctuating between introspective calm and confident expressiveness, but this translates to a change in intensity from 1 to 1.5 on a scale of 10. Gentle pulses trade places with blunt, horn-accented chugs (“476,” “1789”), strings and tremolo blur together in indistinct softness (“1525,” “2010”), and trap beats support liquid guitar-synth hybrids (“1789,” “2026”). Often, the blurred boundaries of physically and synthetically-crafted sounds are beautiful, melodically and precisely in their dreamlike ethereality (“1066,” “1524”). Often, however, do the persistent understatement of movement and omnipresent muting hamper Pike Dreams’ ability to gain its listeners’ attention. This muffling is no doubt intentional, and does work well at intervals: for instance, in the service of contrast or transition (“2010”); acting as a musing pause (“1524”); or to amplify a melody’s poignancy through almost painful delicacy (“1066”). Yet its unequivocal application to all moments of all songs can make even the grandest passages underwhelming.

In this regard, it’s uncertain how a listener is meant to relate Pike Dreams to its subject matter. On the one hand, the deliberate vagueness of the soundscape mirrors a look back through the mists of time, and allows the audience to project their own sentiments onto its subtle evocation. On the other hand, this same nature prevents the audience from connecting to the music itself, and from connecting the music to its supposed year of reference. More minimalist tracks (“1328,” “1381,” “2026”) may work better when the listener detaches, but more expressive ones (“1066,” “1524,” “2010”) when the listener invests in their refrains—and the ones in those tracks are often very lovely. Whether there’s an issue here will be down to the role one designates to a concept album—especially of the instrumental and ambient kind.

Pike Dreams is as hard to pin down as you might expect from the above and from its appropriately mysterious title. As a whispering, quite beautiful, backdrop, it makes for a soothing and introspective experience that I can’t deny I enjoy returning to. In many ways, it’s a breath of fresh air amidst a constant storm of fast and extremely heavy music that so often fills these halls, and a chance to exhale and let go in a time of conflict and strife. The Mountain King may not have done enough to fully embody their themes or impress their compositions’ identities upon the listener, but how it feels for the duration is worth something.

Rating: Good
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: VBR mp3
Label: Void Key Recordings
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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You haven’t lived until you’ve heard an Australian recite Dante. Once a niche ritual available only to the geographically privileged, everyone’s somethingth-favorite Australian prog-death band Xenobiotic are using their aptly titled third LP to democratize access to this sonorous phenomenon, and some other sonorous phenomena to boot, familiar to those acquainted with much-lauded sophomore effort Mordrake. The band’s adventurous efforts are well-suited to epic literature, and, as for the subject matter, recall that this is a death metal record. But also recall, if you will, your favorite moment from Mordrake. We’ll need it later.

As expected, Dante is all about drama. Vocalist TJ Sinclair kicks off the record with narration from Inferno, and largely directs the show from there, whether by burly roars or acrid sneers. Guitarist Nish Raghavan’s repertoire of drawn-out arpeggios, palm-muted chugs, and hammer-on grooves tends to take a backseat to whatever Sinclair is doing, but comes out in force when allowed to. “The Slave State” is a mid-album highlight because of his athletic interpolation of Joe Haley and Duplantier, sprinting through hammer-on grooves, then stumbling into syncopation. The following “Dante II: Pariah” gives the whole band a chance to charge together through quick Gorod-ey odd-time riffs and gives new(ish) drummer Matt Unkovich a nice opportunity to step back from the blasts and add a bit of flair, which he pulls off well under a solo from Raghavan and a memorable chorus from Sinclair. Whenever given a chance to hit a big new vocal moment, the band take it, but for all their effort, Dante doesn’t quite land.

Now, for me, the standout moment from Mordrake would be the scrambling tremolo lead from “Light that Burns the Sky.” That whiny, winding melody that ends on such an alarming and unexpected note was a stroke of brilliance that the band integrated perfectly into a dense song with a lot of other things going on. Your favorite moment probably has similar properties; cool alone, brilliant with backup. Like Kardashev, Xenobiotic rely heavily on atmosphere and melodrama, at times propelling their records through orchestration rather than riffcraft. Mordrake suffered a bit from this, but the mass of novel ideas, executed with ample kinetic energy, shot through the fluff and made quite an impact. Danteis lightweight and slow-moving, trying to make up momentum through combinations of interchangeable chuggy riffs, chord-outline tremolos, and heavily produced vocals.

Maximalist production and a compressed master exacerbate these writing faults. High-register guitar leads are muffled by beefed-up kick drums and guitar chugs. Sinclair’s roars, screams and narrations, subject to near-continuous studio embellishments, fight for space with the guitars when double-or triple-tracked. Not much of the contested territory really seems worth the battle. When the group quiet down, as in the subdued guitar solo in the middle of “Dante II: Pariah,” they give themselves enough space for performances to really matter, but they don’t seem to have much panache to lend. Unkovich is bent over blasting at every opportunity and seems religiously opposed to fills, and even when Raghavan’s written something interesting for himself, it’s hard to tell what that is.

I jealously snatched Dante from the promo pit in the hope that Xenobiotic would treat me to another Mordrake. While Dante follows closely in that style, it’s a far less substantial record, too focused on executing its concept to introduce much musical interest and too overproduced to let those scraps of interesting music make an impact. Raghavan’s strong sense of melody keeps a few of the slow-moving leads stuck in my head for a while after the record, and Sinclair’s narration makes for a few emotionally resonant moments, especially in the record’s climax. But after so many listens, I’m left wondering how all of this sound adds up to so little.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: facebook.com/xenobioticau | xenobiotic.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: March 3rd, 2026

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While Tardigrade Inferno’s sonic formula remains largely the same as it was on Burn the Circus—albeit with the addition of accordions and kazoos and one very unexpected burst of blast beats (“I Am Eternal”)—it’s clear that they moved away from their titular character on Hush. A darkness follows that disappearance, reflected in the dour and morbid attitudes imparted throughout Hush’s 45 minutes (“Dead Fish Smile”). Absent the maniacal main character that gave Tardigrade Inferno’s music life, direction, and purpose, Hush’s storytelling feels aimless and shallow. Thankfully, those trusty hooks, bouncy riffs, and infectious choruses entertained me just enough as I navigated through an uncomfortable grieving period for the Tardigrade Inferno I once cherished.

After a time, I felt ready to embrace Hush, knowing it wasn’t going to offer the same wacky storyline as previous records spun. However, I never escaped my disappointment that Tardigrade Inferno chose an album of vignettes, pulling from a wide gamut of fairy tales and ubiquitous monsters, as their solution. Cuts like “Deadly Fairytales” and “Goor” hammer that generic storytelling home musically as well, though there are small moments in each that make for a great idea or an ear-catching setup (see the howling vox and silent rests in “Goor”). Others like “All in Your Head” and “I.C.D.,” in contrast, expound upon the natural horrors that plague the human mind in the real world. While that topic works quite well in metal writ large, Tardigrade Inferno don’t sell it with the same compelling gravity or subversion as other acts who adopt this exuberant cabaret influence (like Pensees Nocturne or Sanguine Glacialis). Consequently, Hush lacks substance and excitement for a good chunk of its duration.

However, there are a number of cool ideas, new tricks, and fun details found here that Tardigrade Inferno could, and should, take advantage of on future endeavors. The title track is a certified bop, with a bouncy riff backed by fun synths and a sticky chorus that I can’t stop involuntarily repeating. “Subatomic Heist” is a bizarre little number that brims with vibrancy and energy as well, and it’s no surprise that it also calls back to those virtually unkillable microscopic creatures of past installments. Similarly, the proggy and doomy closer “I Am Eternal” foreshadows a tardigrade resurgence inside off-kilter melodies, unorthodox songwriting (for this band, at least), and gorgeous lead guitar work. Naturally, returning to the critters and characters that gave Tardigrade Inferno its primary appeal also gave this song the backbone and direction it needed to feel worthy and interesting. This, in turn, further exemplifies the issues that plague all of the songs on Hush that make no such return.

I’m not normally one to recommend a band revisit past ideas or themes. In fact, I am a firm proponent of a band sticking to their guns and finding their way whenever they make a potentially divisive shift from past work, either musically or thematically. In this case, however, I think killing off their main character and the silliness that came with it—not to mention the dearly missed conceptual storytelling—doomed Tardigrade Inferno’s third outing. Hush isn’t unsalvageable, as it has nifty ideas and some new songwriting tricks and fun instruments that fit well into Tardigrade Inferno’s sound, but it’s missing the direction and compelling arcs that made their first two records successful. My wish for Tardigrade Inferno is therefore to ditch the horror stories and rebuild the circus, for the show must go on!

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: tardigradeinferno.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/tardigradeinfernomusic
Releases Worldwide: March 5th, 2026

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Well, at least they know their way around a riff. Periodic snapshots show Sermon to the Lambs at their proselytizing best, with the occasional moment raising itself to headbangable proportions (“Crowned King of the Worms”, “God Spat and the Man was Done”) with a high octane assault. Slam styles range from the chunkier chromatic walks of Maggot Colony or Condemned, to moodier setpieces near the end of “Clergy’s Malevolence” for tonal shift and a sense of climax to round out the release. Melodies are almost completely excised in favor of a full steam ahead barrage, which rarely tinkers with tempo changes or distinguishing features, placing Sermon to the Lambs as students of the class of professors Disgorge and Gorgasm with regard to their commitment to bludgeoning the listener to death.

Unfortunately, those highlights are few and far between and only serve to exacerbate how unbelievably bland this album is. Vocalist Richard Aguayo falls prey to the maddening trend of not knowing how to let his vocals support the music, choosing instead to slather almost the entire album with belches and brees which possess little sense of diction or phrasing. His gutturals are excellent, but the frustrating insistence on double-tracking them with his more shrill screams is not, and the mix has him pushed so far forward that he frequently drowns out whatever interesting musicality might be hiding underneath. Songs stop and go on a dime, and frequently I’d be surprised to see I was several tracks deeper into a listen than I thought I was, thanks to song conclusions and kick-offs blurring together in composition. Any random 30 seconds chosen to play would certainly unleash an attack filled with energy and enthusiasm, but Sermon to the Lambs is utterly devoid of truly head-spinning moments or anything to warrant repeat listens.

What is the biggest culprit for this? The mix is no help, with all the knobs on the board shoved all the way up to 11, leaving instrument and vocals fighting for attention while the bass’s body is buried in the backyard and forgotten. For the most part, the riffs are no help, a hodgepodge of expected staccato presentations and a beige haze of blasts. The drumming is no help; while skillfully delivered, there are certainly no fills to catch the listener’s attention. Other than the aforementioned moments of semi-memorability in the bookending tracks, there’s definitely no run of riffs to raise horns and toss beer at innocent passerby. Sermon to the Lambs lacks any dose of menace or cinema, though the band definitely tries, taking a page from the book of Brodequin and injecting some Gregorian chant into an intro (“Maximum Apostasy”) before that too devolves into paint-drying and bird watching. The closing track makes a valiant effort to get some real atmosphere with its tempo shifts, and Sermon to the Lambs wisely err on the side of brevity with the releases 30 minute runtime. But ultimately, this is an opaque, textureless, flavorless album, so focused on the brutalizing that it never manages to get out of first gear and approach anything with replayability.

I’ve wrestled for a while on why this is. Objectively, there’s nothing executed that’s “poor” in the literal sense. Instruments are played well, throats are wildly abused, and snares blow out the treble in your speakers with savage glee. One might argue that this was the very vision, and if such monotonous brutality is your jam, you’ll probably find lots more to like here. But slam is capable of its own artistic merit and is more than malleable to compositional adventures, and Sermon to the Lambs is lacking heavily in both artistic vision (beyond “kill”) and compositional adventures. If straightforward jackhammer thrashings are your parish, you’ll find plenty of good word here, but this lion lamb will be attending services elsewhere.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 4¹ | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Comatose Music
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2025

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Mega Colossus’s philosophy for making music seems to be “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” What this specifically means for them is a triumphant return of their hybrid of traditional heavy metal and classic rock, with pinches of thrash and power metal. Similar to Iron Maiden, Judicator, or Dream Tröll, Mega Colossus eschews the darker and harsher aspects of metal, choosing instead to build upon an unassailable melodic foundation. In that regard, it feels like Mega Colossus is operating at a godlike level. They have an exceptional knack for unearthing juicy earworms and threading them onto more hooks than can be found in a master angler’s tacklebox. Just like with Riptime and Showdown, to call Watch Out! fun would be a massive understatement.

As ever, an unadulterated spirit of camaraderie shines through in the way the members of Mega Colossus play together. I’ve already established how catchy Watch Out! is, but it’s the way that the melodic components synergize that makes it special. While twin guitar harmonizations may be standard in this genre, the skill with which Chris Millard and Bill Fischer craft them is anything but. The vocal harmonies, though more sparing, are no less sweet, with up to three other band members melding their voices with lead singer Sean Buchanan’s during key lines (“Good Hunting”). Every time they shout during the chorus of “Battlefront,” I can’t help but dream of shouting along with them in the crowd at a show. Fittingly, “Tag in Your Friend” is the greatest all-around example of coordination between the vocal and guitar melodies. Anthony Micale’s bass lines are no less important to this melody delivery system than are Doza Mendoza’s high-octane drum rhythms.

While Mega Colossus largely functions the same, they refuse to stagnate in songwriting. Others in this genre may struggle to keep songs relevant past the 5-minute mark, but Mega Colossus expertly stretches song lengths without the listener noticing. Chief among them is “Good Hunting,” which has the highest hooks per minute and a stellar bridge. If this isn’t my Song o’ the Year in December, something must have gone very right in 2026. Elsewhere, Mega Colossus proves that they can still write engaging music with the speed dial turned down. The dreamy guitars in “Here Lies You” echo Led Zeppelin, while “Bloodless” goes full bard-mode, telling the tale of Kvothe (The Kingkiller Chronicle). I would have preferred that these two slower tracks weren’t placed back-to-back at the end of Watch Out!, which might be why “Bloodless” feels a bit too long. Minor pacing quibbles aside, it’s great to hear Mega Colossus continue to branch out compositionally.

Showdown was a tough act to follow, but Mega Colossus knocked another album out of the park with seeming ease. Each member’s individual performances have leveled up, with faster, more technical fretwork and an impressive array of drum tempos. Buchanan’s vocal range has expanded, the rich timbre of his voice drawing me into the stories he spins and making the poetic lyrics even easier to appreciate. The sheer quality and quantity of hooks radiate enthusiasm with every note. I hope that Watch Out! will be the record to ignite the explosion in popularity that Mega Colossus deserves. These lovable ruffians have once again brought a smile to my face and joy to my heart.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Cruz del Sur Music
Websites: colossusmetal.bandcamp.com | meltedfaces.com | facebook.com/colossusmetal
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

Kutemouse (aka Mrs. Killjoy)

Watch Out! Mega Colossus has done it yet again. And by “it,” I mean they captured the heart and soul of traditional metal in the most entertaining way possible. So entertaining, in fact, that they have managed to grab my attention and pulled me from the depths of stale pop music to a world of rich lyrics, incredible guitar riffs, and extraordinary vocals. This down-to-earth band of unapologetic nerds hails from North Carolina, with Watch Out! being their fifth full-length album since their debut in 2008. Their music continues to be the bridge between pop culture and metal that the world never asked for but desperately needs, leading to me, an avid pop and K-pop listener, feeling a critical desire to share this review.

This seven-track album carries on the trend of combining sharp hooks with entertaining lyrics that its preceding album Showdown set, yet once again, this band has evolved their sound. Several tracks feature eerie interludes and dark lyrics, providing contrast to the high-energy compositions we’ve heard from Mega Colossus previously. That’s not to say that each track doesn’t make me want to get up and dance, grab a sword, jump in a Chevy Impala, and go on an adventure (yes, in that order), but the album as a whole deals with heavier themes that are followed through within the instrumentals. Mega Colossus has cited rock band Uriah Heep as inspiration for this album, accounting for the lean into the contrasting style this album presents. In fact, thanks to the darker tones pervading this record, Watch Out! swerves more into traditional metal territory over the band’s previous Kansas-esque classic rock sound.

Most tracks begin gradually, with the two guitarists, Chris Millard and Bill Fischer, leading the build-up into the familiar quick-tempo, high-energy sections as lead vocalist Sean Buchanan begins singing. More contrast is introduced with a subdued interlude or two, only to get thrown right back into the frenzied fray that gets your heart racing. One of the tracks that doesn’t follow this pattern is “Battlefront,” the first single to drop from Watch Out!. This is likely not a coincidence, as the song best mirrors the warmer sound and hopeful call-to-action lyrics found in previous hits. It’s a full dance party throughout the entirety of the track, with no breaks in tempo to be found and guitar riffs that ascend and descend like hills on a roller coaster. Yet the fact that the song is in a minor key and contains lyrics concerning fighting ‘til death gives the track more edginess over its mellow counterparts like “Wicked Road” (Showdown).

As one who comes from a background of listening strictly to pop music, I greatly appreciate Mega Colossus’s elaborate storytelling ability that breathes life into each song’s lyrics. “Here Lies You” provides a reprieve from nimble tremolo picks and a breather from all that adventuring and dancing. The song swells into a gorgeous duet between the two guitarists, accompanied by Sean Buchanan’s husky vibrato, that tells the story of a fallen soldier haunting the battleground where he passed rather than moving onto an afterlife reminiscent of Valhalla. The tragic, poetic lyrics are what bring this album to life and are what help shape its doomful sound that still appeals to pop culture enthusiasts like myself.

While I wasn’t as intrigued by this album as I was by Showdown, this album will hopefully broaden Mega Colossus’s listener base by adding edgy tempo contrasts and imaginative, somber lyrics to their overall sound. Between the incredible vocals that have only improved with time, the easter eggs in their lyrics that point to fictitious worlds created by others, and the dueting guitarists that bring powerful energy to each track, Watch Out! deserves a listen or twelve from music listeners of any genre.

Rating: 3.5/5.0²

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As the opening notes of “Newfound Respect” hit, Buried Under the Weight of Reason reveals itself as a blunter, more dynamic beast than its predecessors. The guitars have thickened into a sludge/doom/stoner hybrid of epic proportions, blending Boss Keloid-like phrasing (“Rot to Ruin,” “Newfound Respect”) with Baronessian textures (“Twelve Seasons,” “Law Unto Myself”) and even the occasional djenty chug (“Cut Your Teeth,” “Rot to Ruin”). Huge, low-slung riffs drive Desert Storm’s definitive songwriting pattern. Songs lurch between stampeding verses and clean, crestfallen bridges, often featuring playful bass flourishes and blues refrains. Elliot Cole’s drums hit with massive, tom-forward authority. Each booming strike fuses with new bassist Andrew Keyzor (ex-Beard of Zeuss), carving deep pockets on tracks like “Woodsman” and “Shamanic Echoes.” By the time the first few tracks roll by, it’s obvious that Buried Under the Weight of Reason finds Desert Storm operating squarely in their wheelhouse.

Desert Storm commits to a single mission on Buried Under the Weight of Reason: delivering crushing, irresistible grooves from start to finish. Though lesser bands often bail on a great hook too early, Desert Storm has the confidence to lock in and let a sequence breathe like a fine wine, avoiding the common pitfall of over-complicating a riff before it reaches its zenith. Their controlled songwriting approach shines on the “Woodsman” and “Shamanic Echoes,” where the group adds nuance through minimalist, hook-heavy phrasing that feels both exciting and fresh. “Rot to Ruin” and “Cut Your Teeth” utilize spacious, bluesy transitions to reset the listener’s palate before building toward massive payoffs. The latter succeeds because the quartet holds back, patiently waiting for the precise moment to strike with a mammoth closing riff. The album closes with “Twelve Seasons,” a standout track that balances technical complexity and eccentricity with Desert Storm’s conviction to mine every ounce of a groove’s energy until it runs bone-dry.

Matthew Ryan’s vocals have historically been Desert Storm’s hollow point, but on Buried Under the Weight of Reason, they arrive with a newfound polish and reliability. Hitting with a grizzled, Crowbar-like growl, Ryan provides a solid—albeit largely safe—foundation that underpins Desert Storm’s low-frequency bulk. While Ryan’s vocals struggle to elevate the plethora of high-caliber riffs, they sit comfortably in the mix, serving their purpose without overreaching. Inconsistencies surface, however, on “Woodsman,” where mechanical chanting feels like a unique angle tripped up by its own peculiarity. More jarring is “Dripback,” where Ryan’s barking cadence feels a bit too unhinged, overshadowing an otherwise great groove. Beyond the vocal performance, the compressed mix masks the finer nuances—like the cowbell on “Twelve Seasons”—and the quartet’s commitment to the almighty riff sometimes results in songs feeling overextended. While Desert Storm’s “groove-first” philosophy is surely their strength, it leads to some bloat on the record’s longer cuts (“Rot to Ruin,” “Shamanic Echoes”). Additionally, the inclusion of the interlude “Carry the Weight” feels pointless in the context of the album’s flow.

But for Desert Storm, Buried Under the Weight of Reason is a cause for celebration. By knowing and staying largely within their established limits, the group has created not only a good record, but easily their best to date. While it occasionally oversteps its bounds or struggles to maintain its momentum, the songwriting and groove are infectious enough to have every head in the club bobbing in unison. Their sharpest effort to date, with enough weight to kill an elephant, Buried Under the Weight of Reason is a damn good time and a reminder that sometimes, that’s all a record needs to be.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Heavy Psych Sounds
Websites: desertstorm.bandcamp.com/music | desertstormband.com | facebook.com/desertstormuk
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

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