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

The post The Mountain King – Pike Dreams Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

De l’Abîme au Plérôme is melodic black metal largely unadorned. Guitars are reverb-free—for the most part—and riffs, percussion, and roars alike coexist in approximately equal audibility. There is little time devoted to the development of atmospheric soundscapes or grand, poignant climaxes; the melodies herein are simple, sempiternally iterated through slight modifications of a theme played through layered strums and tremolos. With endlessly rolling, galloping drums, refrains are minimally expressed, and the effect is of a blur of onward energy, punctuated by hoarse, roaring screams. Reminiscent in this way of countless like acts, but particularly Woe² (“Sacrifé sur l’autel de la rédemption”), and in the frequent tilt of those roars into a pained kind of wail, Gevurah. Exceptions—mournful and comparatively melodically rich “Thrène pour un monde révolu,” and the unusual sidesteps towards Blut Aus Nord-esque eerieness in the leading air of “Sacrifé sur l’autel…”—only prove the rule. They are folded into the forward momentum and give the overall soundscape the hint of variation that allows it to be, in toto, a singular force.

The album’s power is overt and skilfully demonstrated. Riffs ascend, descend, and persist with malevolence (“Tabula Rasa”), pride (“Rex Hominem,” “Tour d’Ivoire”), or even hope (“Thrène pour…”), their sharpness giving them considerable bite. The rare occasions of layering prominently different guitar lines together are perfected examples of that tried and trve black metal stripped-back break, high strums spidering down amidst the soft crash of cymbals (“Rex Hominem,” “La Lumière de l’Infini”). De l’Abîme… never gets lost in ethereality, focusing on the progression of the next wave of guitars and building drums. This all creates a sense of continuous momentum, and at its best, feels raucously compelling (“Rex Hominem,” “Tour D’Ivoire”). The straightforward nature applies to the overt melody too, outlier “Thrène pour…” rising to an uplifting dénouement that is no less beautiful for being uncomplicated and predictable; in fact, the song is possibly the best of the lot for the way it marries this poignancy with the fire and grit of the remaining material. Echoes of this—in the solos that follow (“Tabula Rasa,” “Tour d’Ivoire”)—elevate their surroundings but don’t reach the same heights. The vocals are the most unusual part of proceedings, since they often transform into higher-pitched, more forceful wails, even at one point a deranged moan à la Dødsengel (“Tabula Rasa”). And the fact that the instrumentation around them remains mostly “still”, in consistent, minimally varied notes and intensity, allows this narration to guide and adorn the rushing compositions nicely.

Yet De l’Abîme is so unindulgent that it treads dangerously close to bland. The moments of melodic/manic coalescence (“Thrène pour…”) and the vicious vocal performance cannot quite hide the fact that an upsettingly high proportion of the runtime seems to be spent in an indistinct blur of similarity, tremolo melodies grey. It is the drums—unsurprisingly—that ultimately come to the rescue, and propel the album into an elevated quality. Though often delegated to the genre’s standard furious charge, Berthiaume takes many chances to shift the rhythmic underbelly to an offbeat, a d-beat, a steady trip, or simply to decorate with flourishing rolls what would otherwise be just an iterated monotony of bass beats. When these accents are combined with the wildest of howls and the most prominent and interesting of melodies, you can see what might have been.

Sanctvs can clearly make very good black metal, and if you’re a purist who prefers their black metal without atmosphere, layers of intrigue, and everything else interesting,³ then this is the album for you. As strong as the performances are, the lack of variety, and often depth, makes De l’Abîme an experience whose impression on you may be fast usurped by something with more character and mystery.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Osmose Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 31st, 2026

The post Sanctvs – De l’Abîme au Plérôme Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Worm

Necropalace is instantly identifiable as a Worm album: disEMBOWELMENT-esque cavernous doom-death, a dungeon-synth level of fondness for keyboards, and surprisingly beautiful lead guitars all echoing in a cavernous mist. However, following the trajectory set by the interim EP and split, the music now channels a different subgenre of horror. The grandiosity is more theatrical than imposing, the tone is haunting not by a sense of dread, but by an almost camp spookiness, and more time than before is given over to explosive forays into faster tempos. That may sound bad, but it’s brilliant. This expansion into pretty much all black metal has to offer musically gives Worm’s signature interweaving of sinister heaviness and eerie echoey melody room to spread its wings and express all the otherworldly magic and brooding drama it always teased. In Necropalace, Worm transform fully from the swamp beast of yore into the haunted-castle-guarding dragon out of some weird dream nightmare.

Everything unique and great about Worm finds a new, more vibrant side on Necropalace. The drawling doom is gloomier; the guitar melodies more exuberant; the reverb and distortion more huge; the atmosphere richer; the synths, ominous choirs, and bells, and distortion more delicious. Guitarist Wroth Septentrion—a.k.a Philippe Tougas of First Fragment—holds nothing back. Dazzling flourishes (“Halls of Weeping”) and lush, crooning refrains (“The Night Has Fangs,” “Blackheart”) spill across the resonant black(ened doom), and arc upwards in great swoops (“Necropalace,” Witchmoon: The Infernal Masquerade”). It’s the most beautiful Worm has ever been, yet retains that layer of grime Worm is so recognisable for. It works so well thanks to supernaturally perfect interplay between keyboard and guitar, where each is expressive and layered in their own right (“Gates to the Shadowzone (Intro)”), and picks up or embellishes the other’s lines. A vibrant dance of strings comes naturally from tense chords of choir (“The Night Has Fangs”) or piano cascades out of dirt-laden riffs (“Necropalace,” “Witchmoon”), and the purring rhythms of synth bleed seamlessly into extreme metal (“Necropalace,” “Dragon Dreams”). The crashing drums and clattering swords, rising synths and bold keys, and the way Phantom Slaughter’s shrieking or apathetic spoken-word echoes phantasmally—all folded into these strikingly melodic forms—together create a kind of operatic melodrama that is endlessly fun to experience.

At this point, I’d normally be adding a caveat, and I’m not starved for choice, in theory. Necropalace is just over an hour long, which might be too much time in the Shadowzone for some, but the time absolutely flies by. A reluctance to edit is also implied by the typically unpopular use of an intro with instrumental “Gates to the Shadowzone (Intro),” which—unlike on Foreverglade³—actually is a shorter track. As its title implies, however, its ominous dungeon synth and shimmering soloing work well to induct the listener into the weird world that follows. And the guitarwork of Marty Friedman—who guests on closer “Witchmoon”—fits so brilliantly with everything Worm has crafted up to this point that it acts as a final, epic flourish that more than capitalises on his—and every member’s—skill.

Despite committing so fully to the spooky and loosening the reins on compositional structure and melody, Worm has not lost their grip on writing heavy, engaging songs. With its bombastic sense of fun and theatricality and a beauty that stays firmly entrenched in the dark and dirty, Necropalace shows Worm evolving in a way that magnifies rather than dilutes their personality. If more people hear it due to signing with a bigger label, then that’s only a good thing. I can’t stop listening myself. This is the album Worm was born to create.

Rating: Excellent
DR: ?⁴ | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Century Media
Website: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

The post Worm – Necropalace Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Herezjarcha—

Dropped blindly into Herezjarcha at any random moment, you’d be forgiven for taking it for trve blackened death—reminiscent in particular of Keres, or a less-polished Vredehammer. Rough snarls rip like cold wind across mean-faced arpeggios skittering their way up and down sinister scales to unforgiving percussive assaults, satisfyingly gnarly. But with a snap, Profane Elegy’s mood swings from malice to despair, and clean vocals lead a mournful refrain, layered, post-black strums dominating the soundscape. Opener “Exeunt Omnes,” which begins—as many others do—with wild, thrashy black metal energy, prefigures the way the album repeatedly changes the vibe and takes its listener by surprise, as the riffs soften and are joined by softly sung “ohh-hh-hh”s. Their blackened base is rent by change, from stripped-back ambience to hearty sung-screamed duets, black n’ roll irreverence to sludgy blackened doom and frosty black metal proper. Though sounding very little alike in actuality, the best comparison to Profane Elegy’s marrying of a vibrant blackened death with overt melodicism led by cleans is Slugdge.¹ Herezjarcha is far more intriguing and multifaceted than may appear on face value.

Profane Elegy do nothing by half-measures, and throw themselves with equal vigour into both their heavier and softer sides. Their blackened death is gnarly and dynamic, whether overtly aggressive (“I AM”) or in squealing, drawling pursuit of flair and acrobatics (“Haunted” “And Then We Are Gone”). The second-wave-adjacent harsh vocal production, slightly muted and noisy, adds to the overall rawness, intensifying the more straightforwardly brutal and giving grit to the more melodic, atmospherically inclined. On the former side, things really do get heavy, and the churning, howl-ridden soundscape is irresistible, but as the album progresses, it’s the latter that sees Profane Elegy doing some genuinely cool things. Eerie scales blend into a layered cascade of strums (“As My Heart Turns to Ash”), or invite the chords of melancholia to join them (“The Accuser”); more and more space is devoted to variously stripped-back quiet. Things don’t just hang in reverb; space opens in which a savage riff briefly grows mournful, and after few turns of tension, an almost gazey feel prevails as cleans take the lead (“As My Heart…”). It’s not the addition of atmosphere that’s good, it’s how Profane Elegy positions a mournful, post-adjacent mood with their harsh blackened side that manages to not sacrifice either, even when combined.

Yet, in committing as fully as they do to the spirit and execution of their disparate visages, Profane Elegy demonstrate that they haven’t quite refined the formula for their coexistence. The churning, variously vicious and epic blackened death on display on Herezjarcha is raucously enjoyable, while the vulnerability and atmosphere brought in by other influences create a powerful emotionality and works very well in combination. This doesn’t prevent the slightly awkward way one transitions to the other—particularly in the record’s first half. The balance and integration do improve as the runtime progresses, to the extent that the latter end, if stretched to the length of a full LP, would receive a higher score of at least one half figure. Still, the difference in the sound between the raw and ugly and the comparatively glossy is marked and can give the impression that one is suddenly listening to a totally different artist when the former switches places entirely for the other.

What Profane Elegy do achieve with Herezarcha, however, is to assert their skill and personality. Amidst a sea of underground metal artists pitching their bold and subversive takes, Profane Elegy stand in the sureness of honest distinction. They might not have cracked the complete execution yet, at a slim 38 minutes, Herezarcha is more than worth the time it takes to experience their unpolished expression.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

The post Profane Elegy – Herezjarcha Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Grave is funeral doom, broadly categorized. It borrows plenty from a cavernous and malevolent doom-death on the one hand, and an almost post-doom ambience on the other. Rather than any of the actual touchstones mentioned, it is Ahab that Dvm Spiro’s music seems to channel most strongly and frequently, the particular rhythm and tone of warm liquid plucks and an intruding sinister melody—combined with the crushing heaviness either side—reminding me in particular of Call of the Wretched Sea (“Indistinta Morte,” “Insoluto D’Anima”). There are also a few hints of the aforementioned Funeral (“Troppo Lente Scendono Le Tue”) and Endonomos (“Dissentimento”). In general, Dvm Spiro largely eschew that grandiose transcendence of synth-forward funeral doom and tip the melodic scales away from mournful beauty in favor of a more unsettling dissonance or uncomfortable modal shifting. There are still majestic, mellifluous moments, but Grave seems intended to trouble its listener more than anaesthetise or provide catharsis.

It’s this subversion of aesthetic expectations that gives Dvm Spiro and Grave their character. On paper, the vocal dynamic between female cleans and male harsh vox in the context of doom suggests an ethereal Beauty-and-the-Beast dichotomy—à la Shape of Despair or Draconian. But Dvm Spiro don’t play into the trope so neatly, elevating tension with multifaceted performances from both vocalists. Valeria De Benedectis’ singing carries some of the record’s most beautiful moments (“Indistinta Morte,” “Troppo Lente…”), but also some of the most discomfiting as her voice lapses into haughty, ardent repetition (“Indistinta Morte”) or turns sharply into a malevolent tone (“Preludio,” “Dissentimento”). Roberto Ripollino’s growls join her sometimes for an undeniably powerful duet of opposites (“Dissentimento”) but so too do Maurizio DeMichelis’s raspier snarls (“Troppo Lente…,” “Insoluto D’Anima”), creating a blunter, less perfect contrast that jostles the emotions. Pianos, strings, and guitars alike flow, strum, and weep with pathos for a phrase (“Troppo Lente…”), a rare rise above the gloom (“Preludio,” “Dissentimento”), or a dreamlike intro (“Indistinta Morte,” “Insoluto D’Anima”); in these moments, you could almost believe you’re in the more comforting, less real world of another, prettier doom. Grave, however, has other designs, shifting into discordance or another key, dropping a strange tritone and an accompanying guitar chord (“Preludio,” “Indistinta Morte,” “Troppo Lente…”), forcing you to confront the negativity.

Grave is thus striking, but not always in a way that works. I couldn’t and won’t argue that metal of any kind must be an unchallenging listening experience, but Dvm Spiro’s choices sometimes go beyond adding nuance and approach confusion. The modulations can be too jarring (“Preludio,” “Insoluto D’Anima”), songs too long without meaningful builds (“Indistinta Morte”), and prevarication around structures and refrains sometimes frustrating (“Troppo Lente…”). There is both too much and too little happening for the album’s epic 75-minute length to maintain the coherence and magnetism that might be added with more flowing compositions that committed more firmly to a sinister dissonance or uplifting pathos through each successive movement. And so multifaceted passages tend to distract, and extended sections pull back the progression of compositions, rather than drive it onwards.

Let it not be said that Grave is thereby a weak record. Its brilliant moments of both harmony (“Troppo Lente…”) and malevolence (“Indistina Morte”) shine and prove Dvm Spiro capable of magnificence in both aspects. There is a peculiar power in the subtleties and variance of their melodic and compositional approaches that may resonate more with some listeners than others. As a whole, it doesn’t possess the magnitude or the mystique to fully envelop right now. Perhaps its strength is far more insidious.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: My Kingdom Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2025

The post Dvm Spiro – MMXXVI – Grave Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Before I was press-ganged into the Skull Pit, I, Ferox, began curating an exercise playlist named Heavy Moves Heavy. For a decade, I alone reaped the benefits of this creation–many were the hours spent preening aboard my Squat Yacht, mixing oils so that I could marvel at the glistening gainz unlocked by the List. My indentured servitude is your good fortune, because a new and improved version of the Heavy Moves Heavy playlist is now available to all readers of AMG in good standing.¹ The lifters among us have spent countless hours in the Exercise Oubliette testing these songs for tensile strength and ideological purity. Enjoy–but don’t listen if you are being screened for PEDs in the near future. This music will cause your free testosterone levels to skyrocket even as it adds length and sheen to your back pelt.

A year has passed, and now the barbell of honour has been placed on my (regrettably smaller) shoulders as Ferox steps back from the AMG side-quest to focus on his main story. Our leader may be absent, but our search for gains continues with an otherwise full house and new recruits to boot. The songs that guided and shaped our workouts are compiled here in a playlist guaranteed to boost yours, whether you listen on shuffle or straight the way through.¹ So what are you waiting for? Down your pre-workout, grab your straps and your knee-sleeves, and get ready to get massive. ~ Thus Spoke

Thus Spoke Enters Muscle Mommy Mode:

“Silence like the Grave” // Paradise Lost (Ascension) – Straightforwardly solid, catchy, sharp, with a killer atmosphere. Insta-playlist save when the single dropped. Paradise Lost back on top-form and just time to give you the energy for moving heavy things.

“Magnolia” // Deafheaven (Lonely People with Power) – Oh yeah, I’m dead serious. Sorry not sorry to any haters out there. This is four minutes and change of unqualified emotion and racing thoughts and it gets my blood running hot every damn time.

“Against the Dying of the Light” // Dormant Ordeal (Tooth and Nail) – Unironically motivating in a way presumably not intended. Just when you want to quit, that roar of “raaage, RAAAAAAGGGE,” and the impeccable drum and guitar work come in to see you through.

“Condemnesia” // Cytotoxin (Biographyte) – The devastation of a currently-occurring nuclear disaster—complete with a frantically clicking geiger counter and a witness’ agonised moans—portrayed through slick, punchy tech-death. Do I need to explain?

“Perfida Contracçao do Aço” // Filii Nigrantium Infernalium (Perfida Contracçao do Aço) – I wouldn’t normally go for something like this; the vocals are kind of horrible. But the energetic ridiculousness is so fucking feral it takes you beyond pumped and into crazed maniac territory; which is obviously ideal for the gym.

“DNA (Do Not Amputate)” // To the Grave (Still) – Mean, melodic, and with a message, there’s nothing about this that doesn’t work while lifting. If I’m going to include any deathcore in the playlist at all, then it has to be To the Grave.

“Eunuch Maker” // Depravity (Bestial Possession) – If your resting-murder-face, hoodie, and headphones aren’t enough to keep people from having the audacity to speak to you, then listening to this could help. It’s massive, and fun as hell, and will make you look extra mean through osmosis, I guarantee.

“Architects of Extinction” // Psycroptic (Architects of Extinction) – Banger alert. The change in vocals makes this a smidge less strong than it otherwise would be, but c’mon; a riff that good has got to be anabolic.

“Amaranth” // Nephylim (Circuition) – My dopamine-fixation song for the best part of a month. It’s uplifting, it’s catchy, it’s infinitely replayable. What more do you want?

“Natural Law” // Primitive Man (Observance) – It’s not too long, it’s a very important, massive chunk of overwhelming heaviness that makes me feel ten times the size and heft I actually am. You can get through all three (or however many) sets with spare time to admire the pump.

“Deathless” // Phobocosm (Gateway) – Monstrous, massive, intense. Fast and furious isn’t always it; more and more, I crave slow, oppressive, and malevolent. It’s just what I crave to dig deeper.

“1918 Pt 3: ADE (A duty to escape)” // 1914 (Viribus Unitis) – It took less than a single complete playthrough for this to end up on this list. It’s heavy enough for leg day, and it’s atmospheric and moving in that perfect way that helps you dissociate from how much your body hurts. I’ve had it on repeat through many a tough session since.

Kenstrosity Bursts Through His Own Workout Gear:

“Rot in the Pit” // Depravity (Bestial Possession) – If there was ever a song that eradicated mental blocks to that next rep, that next PR, that next push, it’s “Rot in the Pit.” Boasting mountain-moving swagger and a center riff that risks greater injury to my body than any ego lift could ever approach, Depravity penned a bona fide gymstormer with “Rot in the Pit.”

“Summoning Sickness” // Pedestal for Leviathan (Enter: Vampyric Manifestation) – Imagine getting legs so powerful and swole they force your gait to change—but you’re doing it in the basement of your Transylvanian vampire castle with Igor loading up weights on the bar for your next PR. That’s what “Summoning Sickness” feels like when I’m pushing limits at the squat station.

“Nachthexe” // Bianca (Bianca) – You wouldn’t expect something that dabbles so heavily in atmosphere to possess such meaty muscle as this, but Bianca’s “Nachthexe” proves the might of the sleeper build. Once they take off the airy, soft pump cover, a devastating topology of deadly power ripples just under the skin.

“The Insufferable Weight” // Barren Path (Grieving) – Don’t let the lighter weights I’m lugging around fool you. Volume days are fucking brutal, and a challenge for both my mind and my body. Barren Path’s “The Insufferable Weight” adrenalizes me with it’s speed and brutal rhythms just enough to survive those endless reps.

“Granfalloon” // Unbirth (Asomatous Besmirchment) – Unbirth is the pool from which some the nastiest, grooviest, and most deceptively complex riffs spawn. This is great fodder for those compound movements that build strength and density. You could pick anything off of Asomatous Besmirchment for such gains, but my preference is “Granfalloon.”

“Kollaps” // Jordsjuk (Naglet til livet) – Black metal? For the gym? You fucking bet. Guaranteed to pull you back from the brink of absolute failure, Jordsjuk’s “Kollaps” thrashes and shimmers with enough vibrancy and verve to make whatever load I’m pushing feel like light weight.

“Infestis” // Igorrr (Amen) – You wouldn’t expect something as weird and wacky as Igorrr to fit in the land of iron and steel, but here we are. With stomping riffs and vicious roars, “Infestis” is top tier workout gear. Great for keeping pace and supporting breath control, you’ll find much progress with Igorrr by your side.

“Flashback (ft. Strawberry Hospital)” // Blind Equation (A Funeral in Purgatory) – Every year I open up one slot for those high intensity workouts where cardio and strength meet. This year, my spotter cheering me on when I’m doing sprints and weighted jumps is Blind Equation’s intense and lightning-fast “Flashback.” Gotta go fast!!!

“Leave the Flesh Behind” // Ashen (Leave the Flesh Behind) – Probably the underdog in the litter, Ashen’s “Leave the Flesh” behind is all muscle, and a mountain of it at that. These riffs represent both the immovable object and the unstoppable force. One day, I hope to be like them.

“12 Worm Wounds” // Death Whore (Blood Washes Everything Away) – It was difficult to narrow down a selection from Death Whore’s lean and mean debut, but I keep coming back to the swaggering riffs of “12 Worm Wounds” when I need motivation for that next lift. It just makes everything I’m doing seem like the most fun I’ll ever have.

“The Fire in Which We Burn” // …and Oceans (The Regeneration Itinerary) – Boasting what I consider to be the single best black metal riff of 2025, …and Oceans greatly surprised me with a swaggering barnstormer of a track ready made to stoke the fire in my chest for a second wind. Hand me another set of plates, it’s time to go up for one more set!

“Never Difiled” // Serenity in Murder (Timeless Reverie) – Who needs to spell correctly when you have hundreds of pounds to push on the bar? This is the question I ask whenever the adrenaline-soaked “Never Difiled” plays as I rack up the plates for my next set. Nobody’s ever been able to give me an answer.

“The Twisted Helix” // Mutagenic Host (The Diseased Machine) – They say genetics play a huge role in what kind of gains you can expect to achieve naturally in the gym. Well, I’m an ectomorph so it’s tough—and takes a lot more time—to build and maintain muscle. The solution? Twist my helixes and instantly quadruple my gains. Mutagenic Host’s “The Twisted Helix” is just the tool for the job!

“+++Engine Kill+++” // Ruinous Power (EXTREME DANGER: Prototype Weaponry) – Sometimes you just need something threatening to rip the rails right off the track to hype you up for a grueling session. That’s what songs like Ruinous Power’s “+++Engine Kill+++” are for. Short, to the point, and vicious, it will get your blood surging and your body raring to go.

“Femto’s Theme” // Flummox (Southern Progress) – Something so theatrical doesn’t sound like a natural fit when working out, but the sheer heft and chunky rhythms of Flummox’s “Femto’s Theme” defies those expectations. I’ve been using it for leg days and the results are crazy town! Don’t believe me? Try it for yourself!

Steel Druhm Trains His Ape Arms to Crush the Empire State Building:

“Abandoned Feretrum” // Sepulchral (Beneath the Shroud) – Blending old school black and death noise, Sepulchral mainline pure badger adrenaline and rattlesnake venom into your major muscle groups. Handle those power chugs with care, Brah.

“Necrobotic Enslavement” // Glorious Depravity (Death Never Sleeps) – Taking discarded Morbid Angel riffs and repurposing them to turn a peaceful man rabid is why we have science. Take 2 doses of “Necrobotic Enslavement” 30 minutes before throwing 45 lb plates at people who sit on exercise machines and chat.

“A Scream in the Snow” // Black Soul Horde (Symphony of Chaos) – Trve metal can embiggen the innate desire for strength and raw power like no other, and “A Scream in the Snow” will have you swinging olympic bars to get that sword arm ready for bloody constraint and weightroom glory.

“Eyes on Six” // Biohazard (Divided We Fall) – Loudmouthed tough guys from Brooklyn scream at you to watch your back as they try to snap it with angry riffs and bad attitudes. This is for the caveman living in your reptile brain.

“Carry On” // Nite (Cult of the Serpent Sun) – Badass riffs and Manowar-esque demands that you carry on despite hardships are the crucial things that separate a routine workout from a Herculean trial that transforms you. Carry on to bigness.

“Crusaders” // Starlight Ritual (Rogue Angels) – A dirty, greasy 80s metal anthem that sounds like proto-Iron Maiden is what you need to evolve from tubby baby to a fucking WRATHCHILD. Join this crusade and tip your templar.

“Iron Sign” // Ambush (Evil in All Dimensions) – Unraveling the Riddle of Steel requires a long, hard journey guided only by iron signs. This cut will set you on the right path toward your ferric destiny.

“Bending the Steel” // Ambush (Evil in All Dimensions) – If you’re out there bending the steel, why not get moral support from Ambush with this massive aggressive dose of testosterone and primal motivation? When the singer shouts, “Let’s go, boys!” you’ll feel your strength grow 3 times (plus two!). With an iron will, you gotta keep bending the steel!

“Garuda (Eater of Snakes)” // Brainstorm (Plague of Rats) – Brainstorm write heavy metal for leg day, and Garuda is your feathery guardian iron eagle compelling you to crush that feeble PB. The strong can tell their eagle where to fly and what snakes to eat.

“Beyond Enemy Lines” // Brainstorm (Plague of Rats) – Brainstorm ain’t done with you by a damn sight! If the thundering drums and beefy riffs here don’t get you chalked up and ready for iron warfare, you should take up underwater doily knitting.

Steel-Jacketed Olden Bonus:

“Spark to the Flame” // Winter’s Bane (Redivivus) – One of the greatest gym/workout songs EVER. Lyrics that speak of creating a better version of yourself as you burn in the crucible of effort will help you rise high as those burly riffs hammer your inner coward into moist gum paste.

Grin Reaper Gets Down with the Fitness:

“No Pain, No Gain” // Majestica (Power Train) – Metals of Power and Heft are a must for my workouts, especially stretching and pre-lifting calisthenics. Majestica’s cheesy anthem is perfect montage-fodder, and even though the track is rife with clichéd chestnuts, it features kinetic hooks that gird my gears for what’s to come.

“Storm the Gates” // Soulfly (Chama) – Once I’m limbered up, it’s time to sweat. Max and the boys’ bouncy grooves peddle just the right combination of chest-thumping swagger and ferocity to make sure my next rep sets the tone for a simmering sesh of glorious gainz.

“Skullbattering” // Werewolves (The Ugliest of All) – There’s no better way to keep momentum hurtling forward than with a good ol’ fashioned ode to smashing braincases. Setting the right tone for a workout is paramount, and here Werewolves does not fuck around. There’s nothing pretty or flowery about “Skullbattering,” but if swole is your goal, you need to exorcise the Ugly.

“Anodyne Rust” // Blood Red Throne (Siltskin) – I hurt my shoulder a few years ago, and though stretching and (prescribed) drugs didn’t help much, bulking up did. Exercise slipped out of my routine as work and family commitments grew (as did my waistline), but as I’ve recently knocked the Rust off my dumbbells, I’m reminded of the palliative restoration that comes from pumping iron and death metal.

“Ravenous Leech” // Guts (Nightmare Fuel) – Scuzzy, groovy, and unapologetically fun, Nightmare Fuel is filled to the gills with mid-paced chugs that make a great soundtrack for AMRAP workouts. While most of Guts’ bloody remnants will Fuel your workout, spinning “Ravenous Leech” is sure to leave you hungry for even more punishment.

“By Lead or Steel” // Barbarous (Initium Mors) – Does Cannibal Corpse feature heavily in your gym listening? If so, consider Barbarous, who channels similar vibes and vitriol with less viscera. It’ll make you want to drink motör oil and punch babies, and that’s the kind of shove you need when you’re out on swole patrol.²

“Kaltfront” // Eisbrecher (Kaltfront) – Something about heavy distortion, dance-adjacent electronics, and gravelly vocals makes ‘New German Hardness’ prime listening for calculated and efficient movements. With near imperceptible head bops and a commitment to perfect form, this “Kaltfront” leaves me focused and hard as a block of ice.

“Hope Terminator” // Cytotoxin (Biographyte) – Plenty of great death metal jams spurn gym-list inclusion with slow-build intros, not getting to proper stankin’ until they’re well into the track. Cytotoxin knows better, immediately flaying you with technicality. “Hope Terminator’ is the perfect mid-playlist piece to curb fatigue and keep your spirit engorged.

“Let There Be Oblivion” // Ade (Supplicium) – Rome’s Ade lays down a banger of a riff on “Let There Be Oblivion,” and it’s long and strong enough to push me through a set or two. If I’m struggling during a workout, whether in motivation or physically, I need every ounce of energy I can muster, and songs like this one can be the tipping point.

“Blinding Oblivion” // Depravity (Bestial Possession) – Like Guts’ Nightmare Fuel, Bestial Possession boasts track after track of gym-ready scorchers. I chose “Blinding Oblivion” 1. to maintain consistency with “Let There Be Oblivion” and 2. because something about the subtle melody in the song gives it an air of refreshment that I need as the demands of my workout ramp to a frothing climax.

“Elevator Operator” // Electric Callboy (Elevator Operator) – It’s dumb, it’s trite, and it’s so devastatingly catchy that it sticks in my head for days on end. Most importantly, it makes me want to move things up and down, and I won’t apologize for that.

“Sunlight Covenant” // Spire of Lazarus (Those Who Live in Death) – I don’t dabble in deathcore often, but when I do, it’s usually technical, symphonic, and anthemic. Spire of Lazarus crafts just the right blend of their core components to make “Sunlight Covenant” a certified HMH banger. As a bonus, try to time it so that the track hits on your last set of the day—the melody and backing swells make a triumphant send-off as you clinch the last rep and wipe down the bench. You wiped the bench, right?

“Fossilized” // Ültra Raptör (Fossilized) – This song has stayed close since I first laid ears on it, and not once has it failed to engage the hype machine. Whether warming up, working out, or cooling down, the classic retro riffs and sunglasses-at-night nonchalance define a cool I strive for, and motivation like that is the key to gainz.

Dolph Does Heavy This Time:³

“Mortuary Rites” // Mörtual (Altar of Brutality) – Blood boils fastest with a roto-tom take off followed by a death-thrash pummel. As churning pit energy converts to flared nostrils, focused vision, and engorged fibers at the crack of a incessant stick, find a slow and steady breath as your body prepares for war.

“Tlazolteotl” // Kalaveraztekah (Nikan Axkan) – The beat of a clanging snare threatens whatever weighted structure exists in your path. “Tlazolteotl” marches ever forward through growling twists, hardwood clack, and flute-led guitar abandon. A brief respite of acoustics awaits—but so does the real bulk of this journey.

“Black Scrawl” // Pupil Slicer (Fleshwork) – Feedback, growling bass, pneumatic kicks, and an urgent snarl—Pupil Slicer demands your full thrust. With this affixing hardcore anchor, “Black Scrawl” will carry you to your first peak push with a dragging breakdown coda.

“Swamp Mentality” // The Acacia Strain (You Are Safe from God Here) – Rest does not come to those who push only once, though. The burn of your resolve will light the path in the angst and mire and core-fluid whiplash of “Swamp Mentality.” And Vincent Bennett’s tattered and spit-riddled mic will provide an extra OUGH to your exhale.

“Orphans” // Dormant Ordeal (Tooth and Nail) – If you could tether your pulse to the relentless kick assaults that Chason Westmoreland brings to “Orphans”—all of Tooth and Nail really—your spotter wouldn’t be able to find dial emergency fast enough to save you. Instead, search for the heavier weighted tempo that exists between the pitter-patter as your guide. In this space, relentless and emotive riff runs and lead wails coalesce into one of the most threatening thrash-pit breaks of the year. Harness this power.

“The Great Day of His Wrath” // Blindfolded (What Seeps through Threads) – In vicious harmonized splendor, Blindfolded’s neoclassical scale hopping riffage possesses a buoyancy that is vital to remaining invigored. And whipping around bleating and squealing mic energy with resplendent solo work, “The Great Day of His Wrath” both maintains your demanding schedule and restores a lightness to your being before the heaviest pulls come to play.

“Retina” // Pillars of Cacophony (Paralipomena) – Neoclassical drama, however, doesn’t always seek to restore with its airy play. “Retina” arrives, rather, with a mechanical and and programmed structure that functions as a scaffold upon which ascending scale iterations match your own gradual and gravity-creating climb. As the pinch-happy shuffle sneers in precision stank-face deployment, resist the urge to discharge your steel load into the earth.

“Lunar Tear” // Barren Path (Grieving) – In any routine, no matter how structured, a moment of ferocious release can provide a benefit. Before this playlist enters its most grueling minutes, a lightning-speed romp in the grips of endless blasts and riffs exists to shake off the inertia that can result from testing your limits.

“Heaping Pile of Electrified Gore” // Pissgrave (Malignant Worthlessness) – We are all filth—corpses brought to life by the signals we create. Synapses creating chains from proximal to distal drive our movements from concept to power. Through squelching refrain and lockstep death metal assault, fibers at the edge of their load-bearing capacity persist and persevere in the midst of Pissgrave’s shifting and grimy rhythms.

“Bursting with Life’s True Fruit” // Umulamahri (Learning the Secrets of Acid) – Guttural expression unlocks the last inches of a tough pull. As we channel Doug Moore’s garbage disposal tier phlegmanations into our own tidal vibrations, we visualize the final set. We are victorious. And in a celebratory expression of might, we slip into Umulamahri’s enlightened synth dissolution. Those who float cannot collapse.

The post Heavy Moves Heavy 2025 – AMG’s Ultimate Workout Playlist appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Comprised of songs composed between 2009 and 2011,¹ the album is a window into a hidden alternate microcosm within Panopticon’s discography. But it’s one that lays bare seeds of growth that were carried on into the actual, later sound and spirit. Slow, dreamy, gazelike soundscapes (“The Road to Bergen,” “The White Mountain View,”), and syrupy, forlorn guitars shrouded in atmosphere (“A Letter,” “The Eulogy”), express the later music’s gentler, more often reflective aspect that plays as significant a role as the raw black metal.² You can also see the gradual maturity in experimentation, with transitions between that folk-tinged softness and wintry fury more natural than on the debut, and Collapse, albeit still less ethereally perfect than they would become (“From Bergen to Jotunheimen,” “The White Mountain View”).

Possibly the most brilliant thing about Songs of Hiraeth, however, is that it gets better as it goes on.³ This is not to say that the earlier parts aren’t good—they are; the solemn, then triumphant atmo-black of “The White Mountain View” could compete with any later fan-favourite and is really lovely. But from the first tumbling rollovers of “The End is Drawing Near” onwards, something shifts. The blackened ardour goes from a hum to a storm, and the mournful melodies pitch into urgency (“The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter”), before they cascade down with exquisite sadness (“A Letter,” “The Eulogy”). That bewitching liquidity to the reverb-soaked tremolos—which was present from Panopticon, and which only grew in sublimity over time—dominates these three final songs. In them–particularly closing duo “A Letter,” and “The Eulogy”—you can hear and feel the heart of their creator beating in the expressive, pleasantly audible drumwork, the transcendent soaring of the guitars, and the literal grief and pain in the lyrics he screams into the haze.

2025 has been the year of Panopticon for me, with a discography deep-dive, two albums, and a surprise EP that knocked me off my feet.⁴ This has only sharpened my perception of the music’s strange magic: although my mind knows, my body forgets between listening sessions, just how good it is. Songs of Hiraeth is not just a coincidental window into the past; it’s another immersive offering of vulnerability revealed at a very specific time—just as crucial as the harrowing Laurentian Blue—and it is, as everything Panopticon creates, fantastic.

Songs to Check Out: ”The White Mountain View,” “The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter,” “The Eulogy”

The post Panopticon – Songs of Hiraeth [Things You Might Have Missed 2025] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Desprins is transportive not simply as a continuation of Clouds’ endless journey of despair, but as an extension of it. Heavier and simultaneously more reflective than Despǎrțire, it channels the group’s black, choked funeral doom through a spacious synth veil recalling their earliest material, but now more confidently and atmospherically woven. The duality between the heaviest and gentlest aspects—a tension Clouds have always experimented with—is sharpened. The grittiness of the metal, the plaintiveness of the singing, and airiness of the acoustic instruments are more stark, but in a way that balances the musical and emotional waves of tension and release. In a limbo of atmosphere, Daniel Neagoe tells us in solemn whispers what he elsewhere expresses with pained cries and guttural roars; heavy riffs lift and drums slip away at bar’s end for a piano to take the lead; quiet softly crescendoes back on the ascent of a flute: all flow and fade inevitably out of each other.

One could argue that the congruence of Desprins’ apparently disparate musical elements owes its existence to how straightforwardly, heartbreakingly beautiful the melodies thus forged are. Whether first announced by a flute (“Disguise”), a piano (“Unanswered”), synth (“Life Becomes Lifeless”) or a guitar (“Chain Me,” “Chasing Ghosts”), all players pull on the thread of the theme before long. The chasms that come from marrying guitar chords with flute (“Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Forge Another Nightmare”), and opening out to stripped-back synth and apathetic cleans, when you can hear every touch on the keys and feel the impact of every drumbeat, are profound musically and emotionally. These are the kinds of passages designed for wistful staring into the middle distance, whose pathos is so acute, it’s almost unfair. “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Chain Me,” and the finale of “Chasing Ghosts” are especially potent. With a seemingly more sparse soundscape, they achieve what Shape of Despair do with a more grandiose one. I am, admittedly, a crybaby, but Clouds’ ability to bring me to tears in a more melancholic frame of mind is something I hold in high esteem.

Perhaps more so than before, Clouds’ latest incarnation is something that either really works for you or really doesn’t. I’m obviously in the former camp. Like other funeral doom acts, and analogously dolorous music, the portal of sadness they create is effective only insofar as it can pull its listener in. Desprins sees a doubling-down on everything that might make Clouds hard to listen to—the misery, the polarity between the crushing and uplifting—but its execution only makes this project more unique and more uniquely captivating.

Tracks to Check Out: ”Disguise,” “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Forge Another Nightmare,” “Chasing Ghosts.”

The post Clouds – Desprins [Things You Might Have Missed 2025] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Innern takes the fragments of Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s personality and combines them in a way that demonstrates their evolution across the board. Their flair for continual escalation, with a darkly humming atmosphere, urgent guitar lines, and a cascading torrent of percussion, has only improved. It gives first track, “Marter,” a strange yet inexorable ability to make me feel excited for an album I’m already listening to, and this tug deep in my core will resurface repeatedly as “Xilbaba,” “Eos,” and “Fragment” rush upwards toward, or collapse downwards into their own devastating climaxes. The group’s recent experimentation with softer textures is manifest in yet more layers that make the intense sound more intense (“Marter,” “Eos”) and the introspective more introspective (“Fragment,” “Forlorn”), pulling its listener in deep either way. Innern does mean ‘inside’, after all.

The music has—somehow—more presence than ever. Guitars sound downright cinematic in their grandiose, sweeping paths or resonant chimes, but whether surging or sighing, you listen. It doesn’t hurt that they carry some of the most gorgeous melodies of Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s career (“Xilbaba,” “Eos”). The final act, signified by the return of piano in late instrumental “Finisterre III” and the closing, English-sung “Forlorn,” does not weaken Innern’s resolve nor its magnetism. With decisive chords and dreamily sad scales as carefully placed for reflection as those that began the album in “Marter” were for anticipation. And the shoegaze is no longer shoehorned and segregated; unlike Noktvrn’s maligned “Haven,” “Forlorn” has bite, and it rises as it should out of the conflicting emotions of apathy and longing that final track expresses. Once again, Tobias Schuler’s drumming propels violent, beautiful storms from calm to fury and back with a graceful savagery that could send death metal percussionists packing. Innern’s use of tempos to construct an ebb and flow that rushes and crashes around the listener, and allows space for a forlorn tremolo to ring in the air, and Nikita Kamprad’s scream to hold, is little short of magnificent.

So monumental in aura is Innern, and yet, so easy to listen to. Not even 45 minutes long, and dripping with feeling, suffused with captivating melodies and compelling rhythms, the silence at its close comes with a jolt as the portal suddenly closes. Needless to say, I’ve been hitting it on repeat for a while now. The sterner side of me would acknowledge the album’s quiet(er) death—from “Finisterre III” onwards—may irk some, but as I indicated earlier, not only does the seamless and natural exhale of “Finisterre III”-“Forlorn” flow perfectly, there’s a decisiveness and a finality to this closing act that I’ve come to appreciate more and more.

If somehow you’re reading this and either a) like Der Weg Einer Freiheit but haven’t got to Innern yet; or b) have never listened to them before, but like the sound of anything above. Stop what you’re doing immediately, please, and give Innern a spin. This might be the best Der Weg Einer Freiheit ever sounded.

Tracks to Check Out: “Marter,” “Xilbaba,” “Eos,” “Forlorn”

The post Der Weg Einer Freiheit – Innern [Things You Might Have Missed 2025] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.