Night of the Vampire’s take on blackened darkwave is oodles of fun. Across Enchanting Winds, songs are led by gaudy synth lines atop simple distorted guitars, classic 80s drum patterns, and finished with a blackened rasp. This is an effective formula that’s as fun as it is addictive, evoking the playful jubilance of vintage synth-led sounds and sharpening it with black metal’s frostbitten cudgel. The result is campy and over-the-top, but Astral Shadow has plenty of tricks up their satin sleeve to make this formula more delectable. Whether it’s adding tasteful lead guitar and campy clean vocals (“Children of the Immortal Blood”) ¹, going full Simple Minds with a driving synth pop rocker (“Sacrificed to the Night”) or deploying some ignorant mid-tempo chugs underneath the ocean of synth (“Casting Shadows in an Ocean of Time”), there’s no shortage of clever adornments to spice up the core blackened darkwave sound. Night of the Vampire might sound more like Depeche Mode than Darkthrone, but that’s fine when this pernicious platter is this delectable.

Enchanting Winds provides meaningful variety in its execution, keeping this rave from getting too stale. Night of the Vampire goes full Blade nightclub with “The Cosmic Darkness Calls me,” a delightful goth rager which ditches the guitars for a throbbing synth bassline and icy, programmed drums. The faster tempo of “Mother Moon of the Astral Dawn” is a nice, energetic break from the dancefloor, utilizing effective drum pullbacks to keep its forward momentum, and “Misty Illusions” is a solid dungeon synth closer that eases you out of the whole vampiric experience. With relatively short song-lengths and a curt 30-minute runtime, this is also a record that doesn’t overstay its welcome, allowing for repeated spins without running the risk of blood withdrawal. Enchanting Winds is an enjoyable, blackened journey from start to finish. I only wish it set its sights a little higher.

The main thing preventing Night of the Vampire from reaching sanguine ecstasy is the relative lack of ambition in Enchanting Wind’s songwriting. Astral Shadow’s approach is simple: latch onto a catchy synth melody and then ride it for the song’s entire duration, with minor variation for choruses. This works exceedingly well on shorter pieces or in conjunction with more inventive additions, but falls a bit short when it’s the only tactic on display. As a result, songs built almost entirely around a single synth line, like “The Prince of Many Faces and the Lady of the Night” or “Beyond the Howls of the Celestial Wolves,” end up feeling one-note, with little development or variation. Once you notice this pattern across the record, the impact of individual tracks diminishes. That’s especially frustrating given that “Children of Immortal Blood,” with its contrasting choruses, proves Astral Shadow is capable of writing dynamic, multi-part songs with distinct elements. As it stands, the straightforward songcraft doesn’t prevent these tracks from being exciting in the right context, but it does keep Enchanting Winds from evolving beyond its initial premise.

The Enchanting Winds of the Dreamweaving Masquerade is a charming debut from Night of the Vampire. The essential idea of “black metal meets 80s synths” is effective, entertaining and often moves beyond the simple proposition, even if the straightforward songcraft detracts from my enjoyment at times. I’ll gladly place Night of the Vampire alongside their unserious contemporaries in my “kvlt cheese-maxing” playlist and look forward to whatever Astral Shadow produces next.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore Records
Website: nightofthevampire.bandcamp.com | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

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While its openers serve to showcase Geese’s two extreme sides in explosively screamy noise rock (“Trinidad”¹) and bluesy pop-country (“Cobra”), the uncanniness of Getting Killed is much more nuanced. Beneath each guitar riff and yearning melody, just as much with its more jagged movements, is a dedication to deterioration. Most tracks begin with a solid funk groove or a predictable chord progression, an undercurrent of dissolution growing over the course of its three-to-six minutes. Unlike the improvised randomness so many artists claim as a reflection of group chemistry, Geese’s movements feel calculated to the minutest detail in the service of a parodied and uncanny version of rock music, such as maddeningly repetitive riffs (“Husbands,” “Islands of Man,” “100 Horses”), repetitive cliche lyrics drawled with irony and apathy (“Cobra,” “Half Real”), and splattered movements guided by heart and hate (“Trinidad,” “Getting Killed”).

The blend of tones that exist here is noteworthy, as the sunny country, groovy punk, and jagged noise movements feel anachronistic on paper yet somehow feel exactly what Geese ought to be doing. Noisier tracks move seamlessly into the more melodic and vice versa (the brooding “100 Horses” to the ethereal “Half Real”; the smooth ballad “Au Pays du Cocaine” to the chaotic and arrhythmic “Bow Down” and explosive “Taxes”), highlighting the intentionality behind the curtain of Getting Killed. Winter’s vocals are initially jarringly loud and off-kilter, but just as the twinkling quality that emerges from asynchronous guitar/piano noodles (“Getting Killed,” “Islands of Man”) or the brass emerges in short bursts like gusts of wind (“Trinidad,” “Husbands”), the drawling baritone stumbles upon vocal lines that get seared into the mind, catchy and seamless in their delivery – although initially feared lazy (“Cobra,” “Half Real,” “Long Island City Here I Come”). Geese, while embodying much more than just noise rock, nonetheless captures lightning in the bottle with its layers of intensity giving way to an uncanny catchiness.

Geese’s more intense moments recall the noise rock/post-punk misanthropy of White Suns or the quirky squonks of Black Midi, but its uncanny country twang recalls the clouded and colloquial conversations of Mark Z. Danielewski’s book Tom’s Crossing: yes, it’s a western, but a caricature of it with a bleak heart beating at its core. Geese embodies rock’s most extreme peripheries in a breed of music that is as alienating as it is catchy, unique and on-brand for a band whose caliber of sound feels uncanny, otherworldly, and delightfully apeshit. Sure, it ain’t metal, but Geese offers some of the most intriguing music of the year regardless.

Tracks to Check Out: “Trinidad,” “Cobra,” “Getting Killed,” “100 Horses,” “Long Island City Here I Come”²

The post Geese – Getting Killed [Things You Might Have Missed 2025] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Blodsträngen blends the grit of punk, the expansiveness of post-rock, and hardcore’s raw aggression into an intensely juxtaposed sound that is dark, abrasive, and dramatic. Guitarist Johan G Winther lays down chunky Mastodon-style motifs (“Copper + Dirt,” “Raised on Graves”), shoegaze melodies (“No Good Things,” “Strings of Red”) and bursts of dissonant chords (“Clean”). Mattias Rasmusson’s booming rock grooves drive moments of Old Man Gloom-like explosiveness, while Erik Skytt’s percussive accents and expressive modular tones—featuring everything from organs, cowbells, and woodblocks to a xylophone—strategically guide listeners through Blodsträngen. Fredrik Karlsson’s powerful voice commands excellent projection, especially during Blodsträngen’s darker verses, alternating between spoken-sung punk vocals reminiscent of The Jesus Lizard or early Killing Joke (“No Good Things,” “Clean”) and throaty, abrasive howls (“Allt Vi Kan Ge Är Upp,” “Strings of Red”). Overall, Blodsträngen sounds massive and confrontational, the instrumentation hitting well above its weight, piercing a bright master that belies its DR score.

Blodsträngen is best experienced as an immersive, uninterrupted ride. Its seven tracks flow seamlessly, shifting moods and textures while progressively intensifying. The record immediately kicks off with its strongest material, showcasing Blessings’ dynamic songwriting and unique sound. “Raised on Graves” quickly establishes its edgy, ominous feel, creating foreboding through Winther’s haunting notes, Karlsson’s growling bass, and Skytt’s tribal accents. Eschewing a predictable crescendo, it cleverly loops back to another verse before diving headfirst into full-blown punk with an insistent tambourine. An isolated cowbell punctuates the track, serving as a stark prelude to “Strings of Red,” which explodes into a hardcore frenzy after spells of tense breaths. Skytt’s suspenseful synth leads and Winther’s aggressive riffing drive the song, which serves as a definitive statement of Blessings’ ability to produce hard-hitting material with intriguing textural elements, despite its meandering finish. Rounding out the album’s robust first third is the ambitious and lengthy “Clean,” one of Blodsträngen’s longest tracks. Highlighted by what might be one of the gnarliest bass tones I’ve heard in ages, Karlsson’s hefty bass line and somber vocal delivery channels a Filter-esque vibe before a devastating breakdown tears through the mix. The song works beautifully once it gains momentum, though its dragging intro and overlong build partially weigh it down.

Blodsträngen starts with incredible momentum and promise, making Blessings’ subsequent struggles to maintain its energy all the more disappointing. While “Allt Vi Kan Ge Är Upp” injects much-needed vigor back into Blodsträngen with its dominant rhythms and exhilarating crescendo, “No Good Things” marks a noticeable dip in energy. The track lacks the compositional ambition of the album’s earlier material, consequently feeling plain as it relies too much on Skytt’s quirky samples and Karlsson’s vocals. “Copper + Dirt” is a short burst of aggressive, riff-driven material that abruptly ends after less than two minutes, a confusing result that feels wholly out of place. Finally, the terrific, harmonized melodies from Winther and Skytt within the first half of “Through Veils of Glass and Silica” suffer, unfortunately, from its excessive length and meandering post-rock sections, which leave Blodsträngen ending on a drawn-out note.

Blessings is a good band, but Blodsträngen is a front-loaded album that left me wishing these Swedes had maintained their peak energy for the entire forty-one minutes. When they’re firing on all cylinders, Blessings crafts unique, powerful, and atmospherically heavy music. Their future success hinges on maintaining their intensity and sharpening their songwriting, steering clear of unnecessary repetition or padding. A great album is potentially waiting in the wings, and Blessings certainly has the talent to deliver. The question is, will they?

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Pelagic Records
Websites: blessingsgbg.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Blessingsgbg
Releases Worldwide: August 1st, 2025

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While entirely more streamlined, a major difference between its predecessor, The Waves Have Teeth, is the heart that beats within it and the crescendo that it embodies. While it uses much of the same tricks, it feels more like a post-punk band doing death metal, punky blastbeats meeting an unfuckwithable bassline, providing the backbone of each track – a flaying guitar and scattered synth forming the amorphous flesh. A tale of two halves, whose stylistic differences are tasteful in a gradual shift from punky energy to death metal disintegration, Hesitating Lights soars in its carefully orchestrated experimental attack, leaving a bit more to be desired, but remains a step towards the greatness that Floating is clearly capable of.

The first half of Hesitating Lights deals in a post-punk style that is both impressively simple and mind-warping. Bass is the starting point in its rich and warm intensity that undergirds a deathened attack that is allowed to waver into various textures of dissonance and darkness, ethereality and irony. Taking cue from the ambivalent bumbling of acts like Cocteau Twins and Siouxsie and the Banshees, warm bass pairs with cold guitar in a collision that feels simultaneously ominous and energetic, taking cues from Ulcerate in contemplative sprawls and blastbeats (“I Reached the Mew,” “Cough Choir”), while motifs of dissonant stings and chiming tones inject a dose of morbidity apt to the descriptor “deathpunk” (“Grave Dog,” “Exit Bag Song”). The first half feels like a carefully curated experiment in punk percussion and bass and death metal melodics and vocals. The result is unique and atmospheric – a bit that feels too safe periodically, but its careful composition shows Floating’s songwriting prowess.

It’s only after the first act that Floating begins to fly off the rails in tasteful death metal dominance. Centerpiece of “Hesitating Lights / Harmless Fires” is a tour-de-force of the more synth-driven experimental tendencies, a patient sprawl that refuses easy categorization into either territory. A nearly post-metal crescendo anchored exclusively by the rumbling bass guitar descends into a noise rock climax not unlike Gilla Band or Lightning Bolt. Beyond that, tracks begin to utilize a cascading riff technique in which guitar rhythms fall apart incrementally across repeated iterations, leading to tasteful slivers of melody and ominous buildups (“Still Dark Enough,” “The Waking”), while doom makes a dirging appearance in the most pitch-black moment of the album (“The Wrong Body”). But even aside from more experimental flair, each track in the second half features a kickass riff that gets the head bobbing and anchors the track in some semblance of reality.

I felt like The Waves Have Teeth was a carpet bomb of ideas with glimpses of its deathpunk actualization shining through. Hesitating Lights feels like a much more fleshed-out beast, with the real teeth to speak of. The shifts between the more post-punk- and death metal-oriented halves can feel jarring, and perhaps that gradual descent into the abyss can be accomplished with a bit more finesse, but it shows the duo’s amorphous quality in a fantastic display for a young band. Ominous death metal atmosphere and rebellious punk energy are harnessed with a kickass bass performance and a shapeshifting percussion in a tidy thirty-six minutes, and it’s infectious. While certainly not the opus magnum Floating is capable of, you should have no hesitation in picking up Hesitating Lights.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: floating-label.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/floatingdeathmetal
Releases Worldwide: July 11th, 2025

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Show your appreciation for what we bring to you, and enjoy ov deep Filter!

Kenstrosity’s Biblically-Accurate Beast

Ancient Death // Ego Dissolution [April 18th, 2025 – Profound Lore Records]

A lot of people pine for Death. We know this due to the sheer number of Death worship acts out there, most of which operate eternally under that legend’s shadow. Less common, however, are acts of worship in the service of underground-er heroes The Chasm. Thankfully, Massachusetts death metal quartet Ancient Death take on this mantle, blending much Death and The Chasm inspo with their own curated, abyssal sound. Everything here hearkens back to the ways of olde, but updated to feel relevant in the modern era. Such as this is the case, opening salvos “Ego Dissolution” and “Breaking the Barriers of Hope” strike while the iron is hot, piercing through all expectation with sharp riffs, evolving passages, and dynamic shifts in structure. So effective is this attack strategy that even instrumental aberrations like “Journey to the Inner Soul” feel story driven and purposeful. Standout tracks like “Breathe – Transcend (Into the Glowing Streams of Forever),” “Echoing Chambers Within the Dismal Mind,” and “Unspoken Earth” steal the show, however, boasting Ancient Death’s best riffs, a downright surprising display of vocal versatility, and disgusting solos and dive bombs. It needs time and dedicated spins to bloom and come alive, though, which may discourage listeners hoping for a cheap fix. But trust me, it’s worth the investment!

Killjoy’s Flavorful Feasts

Malphas // Extinct [April 11th, 2025 – Soulseller Records]

If I’m to enjoy no-frills black metal, it needs to have lots of hooks. In this sense, Switzerland’s Malphas had their priorities straight while writing Extinct. Their melodic guitar leads may not be as exuberant or exaggerated as, say, Moonlight Sorcery’s, but they have a thrashy flair which is just as much fun. Once the riffs captured my attention, they reeled me in for a battering vocal assault of coarse barks and spiteful snarls. Drummer Jöschu Käser (also of Aara and many others) can play seemingly any rhythm or tempo, best exemplified across the entirety of “Butcher’s Broom.” This is key for Malphas to prove they have the nuance to pull off mid-paced tempos (“Majestic Moon,” “Consumed,” “Armada Christi”), a quality that I find important in black metal. There are a few neat little surprises as well, like the piano section midway through “Majestic Moon” and the icy synths popping up momentarily in the instrumental closer “Astral Dissonance.” Fans of engaging and catchy meloblack won’t want to miss out on Extinct.

Svnth // Pink Noise Youth [April 18th, 2025 – These Hands Melt]

You’ve likely heard of white noise, but what about its counterpart, pink noise? Whereas white noise contains equal amounts of all frequencies audible to humans, pink noise favors lower frequencies and is generally considered to be easier on the ears. Likewise, Pink Noise Youth, Svnth’s fourth album, is a remarkably pleasant listen. This unassuming post-black group from Rome, Italy has evolved considerably since Cherd’s review of 2020’s Spring in Blue. The familiar glossy guitar tremolos and chords now have an unexpected companion: the electric sitar. This newcomer is mainly supportive, with stray notes and lines drizzled atop the already dreamy guitars for extra sweetness. There are spicier moments, too, like the punky riffs and d-beats peppered with rasping barks that kick off “Winter Blues.” There’s also a much greater prevalence of clean singing this time around, Rodolfo Ciuffo’s hypnotic intonation complements the chunky post-metal of “Perfume” as easily as the carefree guitar strumming in “Nairoby Lullaby.” Gone are the overlong, meandering tracks of before; Pink Noise Youth gets straight to the point with sharper songs hovering in the 5-minute range across a tight 37 minutes in total. Svnth seem determined to make the post-black genre their own and, by all indications, it’s working.

Owlswald’s Wide-Eyed Wonders

Game Over // Face the End [April 25th, 2025 – Scarlet Records]

In the absolutely loaded month that was April, two records surprised these owl ears enough to earn regular spots in my playlist. First up is Game Over’s sixth full-length, Face the End. These Italian thrashers have been peddling their version of the Bay Area sound since 2009, yet this is somehow my first encounter with them. Following the departure of co-founder/bassist/vocalist Renato Chiccoli, Game Over revamped its lineup, bringing in Danny Schiavina on vocals and Leonard Molinari on bass. This refreshed five-piece delivers a newly polished sound, making Face the End the most fun I’ve had with a thrash album in recent memory. “Grip of Time,” “Weaving Fate” and “Veil of Insanity” showcase Game Over’s mastery of Testament and Exodus-level aggression while “Neck Breaking Dance” offers a light-hearted pit call reminiscent of early Anthrax. Alessandro Sansone’s and Luca Zironi’s fast and forceful down-picking, melodic leads and flashy solos run over Anthony Dantone’s rock-solid drumming, all within a crisp and powerful production with ample punch. Schiavina’s charismatic, high-flying vocals immediately grab your attention on “Lust for Blood,” never relinquishing their grasp as they transmit their 70s and 80s horror-inspired themes above abundant gang vocals. In a genre plagued by inconsistency, Face the End is everything I want my thrash to be—aggressive, dynamic and fun.

Kiritsis // Kiritsis [April 4th, 2025 – Wise Blood Records/Pout Records]

Next up is the ruthless sludge and hardcore of Kiritsis. I hope you checked your fun at the door because this Indianapolis-based quartet isn’t here to make friends. Formed by members of Trenches, Hatesong, and Sundown, Kiritsis’ self-titled debut is here to punch you square in the face and take your lunch money. Over the course of thirty-one minutes, this foursome bludgeons listeners with uncompromisingly heavy doses of abrasive distortion, hard-hitting beats and pure unadulterated anger, all slathered in a blackened layer of Carcass-like filth. Blake Henry’s roars and rasps tear through your speakers with pure vitriol and torment, perfectly complementing Eric Mason’s grim riffing, Bill Scott’s demonic bass growls and Nik Jensen’s weighty drum strikes. “Like the Taste,” “Pissant” and “Deny.Defend.Dispose” embody a Will Haven spirit with a barrage of penetrating, assaulting riffs and pounding half-time slams underpinning Henry’s blood-curdling screams. Meanwhile, the sorrowful and doom-tinged “It Ain’t Easy” and “Thieves and Fools” drag you into anguish-ridden depths, draped in their dark, hopeless atmospheres and plodding facades. You won’t find any overly technical or flashy music here—this is pure hatred and loathing in a tight, cathartic package, meant to blast at high volume while you fuck shit up.

Tyme’s Grungy Gift

Melvins 1983 // Thunderball [April 18th, 2025 – Ipecac Recordings]

Hot on the heels and building off of 2024’s Tarantula Heart, stalwart grunge/sludge rock icon Buzz Osborne has teamed back up with original drummer Mike Dillard for Melvins 1983‘s third release and first in four years, Thunderball. This time around, Osborne and Dillard have partnered with experimental electronic artists Void Manes and Ni Maîtres to deliver yet another in a long line of inimitable, don’t-give-a-fuck-what-you-think releases that have become synonymous with the Melvins brand. As influential a band as any going right now on sludgy noise rock emanating from garages across the world, I take note anytime a new Melvins project hits shelves. With Thunderball, Buzz ‘n company have delivered another tasty morsel packed with some o’ that Houdini-sweet heaviness (“King of Rome”) that sweats grunge like “Negative Creep.” A merging of shimmery post-rock with punky garage rock and bass-laden disso-doom that meanders to a close in a wash of plodding riffs and bleep-bloop electronics, “Victory of the Pyramids” is a decent summation of what you’ll find lurking around most of Thunderball‘s thirty-four minute, five track corners, as Void Manes and Ni Maîtres don’t so much enhance as they incorporate their particular brand of electronica into Thunderball‘s sonic aesthetic. As a newcomer still assimilating into the Melvin hive mind here at AMG, I still have the independent lock-step wherewithal to recommend Melvins 1983‘s Thunderball to those who might have missed it.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Ample Acquisitions

Emma Goldman // All You Are Is We [April 28th, 2025 – Zegema Beach Records]

Sassy is as sassy does or somethin’ like that. If you were wondering whether anarchist icon Emma Goldman came back to life to front a mathcore band, I’m sorry to report that that is not the case. However, if you’re in the ballpark for Canadian punks speedballin’ through skronked-out, strung-out chorus barks with a hundred words trapped in ten seconds, then Emma Goldman will be your ticket to a hot psych ward summer.¹ From working class psychosis (“i don’t think much at all,” “this is your brain on minimum wage”) to patchwork insomniac ramblings as loaded as the cut-and-scan cover collage (“at rock bottom i was a piss girl,” “that is the land of lost content”), vocalist Victoria delivers a shredded flurry of barks, nags, and cries that pierce straight through the boomy mix. And though the rhythm guitars and bass pulse and industrial cracklings (particularly the two interlude scratches) register on the lower end of the sound spectrum, a fluid twang and tight, clanging snare find an abrasive balance throughout—two broken tones make a right. In under half an hour, All You Are Is We both breezes by in its effortless flow and brandishes passersby with heart-stained tirades and boiled-over emotion. Along with modern acts like Massa Nera and Blind Girls, Emma Goldman in bold, romantic, and unsettled rage makes a strong case for how true skramz can continue to evolve through rich musicianship, progressive leanings, all while maintaining an adherence to post-indebted builds (“it rubs the boycott ketchup on its brand new slacks,” “that is the land…”). And with a dollop more of that cathartic and capturing energy, Emma Goldman may yet charge with the notoriety of its namesake at the front of this genre pack.

Sonum // The Obscure Light Awaits [April 11th, 2025 – Dusktone]

As a product of a previous filter fetching, I had hoped to provide a lengthier statement on my enjoyment of Sonum’s sophomore outing The Obscure Light Awaits. You see, this Italian act has a knack for supplying death metal that holds true to the origins of dark and twisted riffage while still pushing at edges of richer composition in hypnotic rhythms. As a second attempt at deathly glory, The Obscure Light Awaits shows studio knowledge growth in a drum sound that highlights expansive cymbal textures and quick-turn tom rolls that power the mood-driven world in which Sonum inhabits. And in post-growing melodic builds—the kind of atmosphere that leans dissonant like the Ulcerate-channeling broodings of Devenial Verdict—Sonum shows that mood can swell and explode on the backs of horror-tinged orchestral accompaniment and creaking refrains (“Trapped in the Labyrinth of Aberration,” “Nobody Is Innocent”). Trimmed to a three-piece set for The Obscure Light Awaits, the focus that borders on self-similarity on this extended-length journey feels both intimate and indulgent—the closing psychedelic jam session certainly leans on the latter feeling. But with churning tremolo runs that lead to gruff-toned cries, the majority of what Sonum brings to the table lands in consistent and crushing effort (“In This Void We Dwell,” “Messenger of Cosmic Dread”). As a band still finding their footing in the grander scheme of the death metal universe, Sonum has a sense of identity that gives them a fighting edge. And though The Obscure Light Awaits wears its unique vision a little loose at the waist, its journey is well worth exploring.

Zmarłym // Wielkie Zanikanie [April 18th, 2025 – Godz of War Productions]

Once upon a time, Zmarłym fancied themselves a Polish sadboi act whose turmoil was wrapped in the urban decay of early COVID lockdown measures. And now that we’ve all stepped some distance—a safe distance you might say—away from that reality, Zmarłym has learned that the sad doesn’t dissipate quite that easily. Wielkie Zanikanie finds a familiar malaise in isolation, frustration, and a general defeated nature wrapped up in a longing black metal wane with post-punk and progressive undertones, much like you’d find on a record like Voice’s Frightened or Cursebinder’s Drifting. Blaring synth throbs give way to entrancing drum patterns and phase-shifting vocal howls (“Miejsca,” “Bunt maszyn”). Classic tremolo flurries raze playful energy to set the stage for sinister, blood-soaked cries (“Sny o lataniu,” “Plamy II”). And though a goofy mid-album Killing Joke-indebted romp—even a switch to heavy accent English from the brooding native tongue—threatens to break the sinister ambiance that Zmarłym explores throughout the rest of Wielkie Zanikanie, its soft and bouncy inclusions still find layering amongst smoldering black metal riffage. And as all elements come to join hands in the space-bound, synth squealing crescendo of the closing title track, Zmarłym has delivered an experience full of variety and surprise, curated to bore a hole into a mind searching for melancholy with a sense of adventure and play.

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

The path of Swans has been one of blending ugliness with a sheen of pristineness. They’ve had it all, from the ugly industrial sludge of Filth and Cop, the more regal industrial noise rock of Greed and Holy Money, the Gothic rock groovers of Children of God, the lush starkness of White Light from the Mouth of Infinity, the post-rock-imbued apocalyptic prophecies of The Great Annihilator and Soundtracks for the Blind, the trancelike 2010s comeback My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky, the formidably monolithic trilogy The Seer, To Be Kind, and The Glowing Man, to the minimalist folk-embedded Leaving Meaning and The Beggar. If you wanted to devote a week to the Swans discography, have at it. Or get into the process of Birthing.

In spite of its higher focus on more acoustic textures and Michael Gira’s wild baritone, Swans’ use of repetition is a tether to which their grasp of reality is consistently mutilated, interspersed with moments of sparse accessibility. Seven tracks and nearly two hours of content greet the ears with repetition both nauseating and hypnotic, tracks undeniably modern-era Swans: folkier, more acoustic and organic, and retaining that trademark longwindedness and industrial/noise barb, shifting from mood to mood with ease. You’ll hear painful dissonance, ritualistic passages of pounding percussion, Gira’s unnerving vocal lines, and synth-heavy crystalline atmosphere exchanged across mammoth runtimes. Especially in the first act, ugly stretches stitch together more uncanny valley passages of accessibility, like a synth rock jam session with pulsing basslines (“I Am a Tower”), beautiful piano ballads graced by spidery melodies and Jennifer Gira’s haunting vocals (“Birthing,” “Guardian Spirit”), catchy little choral “bum bums” (“The Merge”), and instrumental ambient swells (“The Healers,” “(Rope) Away”).

Gira and company find themselves in an odd predicament: in the shadow of their own influence. Swans has smartly focused on more acoustic and organic textures with their most recent releases, but in comparison to the 80’s and 90’s, and even the 2010s, Birthing cannot hold a candle. No one can do music like Swans, but it feels as though the trilogy of The Seer, To Be Kind, and The Glowing Man was Tsar Bomba, and every subsequent release has been the fallout. Likewise, the raining ash of Birthing is lethal, unnerving, and undeniably Swans, but it doesn’t feel as monumental. The only track that feels crucial is the absolute fever-dream “The Merge” in its wholehearted dive into the abyss. Each track features Swans-isms that sear themselves into your brain if you let them, but therein, very few moments justify why you should devote two hours to listening to them – especially if you are not a fan to begin with. Their focus has never been to be catchy, impress with riffs, or go wild with novelty – as such, the trademark tapestries of droning dissonance (“I Am a Tower,” “Guardian Spirit”), free jazz/industrial noise explosions (“The Merge”) are just difficult – aside from Swans’ inability to edit.

I may be Swans lone apologist at AMG HQ, and maybe I’m insane for it. Birthing is nowhere near the influence of its predecessors – while retaining that noise and industrial sneer throughout, it’s a far more gentle album than the ugly classics of the band’s heyday. However, it’s probably the best of its era, blending its bad temperament with its more post-rock atmospheres and semi-accessible passages that keep listeners this close to insanity. That being said, it’s still Swans. And a whole lot of Swans. Two hours of Swans. Yay/ugh.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Young God Records
Websites: swans.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/SwansOfficial
Releases Worldwide: May 30th, 2025

The post Swans – Birthing Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

It’s this message that drew me to Svarta Havet, at Steel’s recommendation, having never heard a note of their music before. What I beheld in their sophomore record, Månen Ska Lysa Din Väg, is exactly what my promo says on the tin. Post-punk and post-hardcore, with a blackened char. Comparisons to Oathbreaker, Unfurl, and early Downfall of Gaia fit right at home within Svarta Havet’s, albeit more stripped-down interpretation of the style. Building bridges between airy atmosphere and driven, punky attitudes, Månen Ska Lysa Din Väg boasts a variety of moods, textures, and tempos to help enliven each of its tight 37 minutes. At the same time, it sports a bleak, monochromatic tone that grounds its lively performances inside the reality of our world. With this intriguing formula, Svarta Havet achieve a sound rooted in the trials and tribulations of society in the current era while the fire of change, of hope, and of a deep yearning for a better tomorrow roils just underfoot.

Because Svarta Havet designed Månen Ska Lysa Din Väg to deliver hopeful, motivating messaging to its audience, I understood why many of these songs aren’t as aggressive, depressive, or explosive as my aforementioned reference points. When “Härlig Är Jorden” implements a slower, more deliberate motif as its primary structure right after opener “Göm Dig” lays across the landscape its blackened post-punk blade, the intent is clear. Månen Ska Lysa Din Väg is a record for those who wish to listen with an active, open mind, separated from the primal need for relentless riffs and uncompromising violence. As “Avgrunden” and later MENA-influenced cut “Djur” raise themselves above the horizon with looming, overcast moods and textured leads, the grim reality of the world is placed firmly in the foreground. However, interspersed within those themes, a counterpoint of inspirational, almost exuberant tremolos and ascendant atmospheric blooms belie that spirit which is unwilling to yield to the shadows. “Göm Dig” and “Alla Stover” stoke that fire with the most riff-centric material Svarta Havet have to offer in this installment, brimming with a lively swagger and a punky attitude. In this back-and-forth, Månen Ska Lysa Din Väg succeeds in its mission of finding the light in a world that’s lost its way.

The main roadblock to making this record stand out more is one of balance in its compositions. Too often, passages which establish their purpose and achieve their desired effect within the first minute or two extend far past that point, which compromises their impact (“Härlig Är Jorden,” “Ditt Rike”). Sometimes this detrimental quality comes about in the form of a heavy reliance on baseline repetition. Other times, it manifests in a meandering passage whose resolution doesn’t always justify the wait. In other areas, Svarta Havet’s heavier passages can seem overly busy when placed as they are next to more thoughtful pieces (particularly the chorus to “Alla Stover”). Another byproduct of the imbalance Månen Ska Lysa Din Väg carries, the most memorable material leaves very little room for the in-betweens to make a lasting impression. I easily recall “Djur” for its doom-laden riffs and hypnotic depiction of those scenes of war that devastate the same animal ecosystems to which we all intrinsically belong, but I can’t remember a note of its sequel “Under Staden.” This is especially conflicting as “Under Staden” is arguably the more important of the two to Svarta Havet’s mission, spotlighting the remarkable resilience we see in nature, particularly in animals and insects, within sprawling artificial developments.

When the dust settles, and Månen Ska Lysa Din Väg heaves its last blackened breath, I find myself torn. I love the intent and passion Svarta Havet instilled within their sophomore album, and I think this style of music beautifully fits the prompt. However, I yearn to feel an unbridled enthusiasm for Månen Ska Lysa Din Väg that keeps me coming back for more without a second thought. Instead, I feel a respectable excitement for what Svarta Havet might do to develop their material further going forward. So I wait, on the edge of my seat, to hear what they do next.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Prosthetic Records
Website: facebook.com/svartahafvet
Releases Worldwide: May 9th, 2025

The post Svarta Havet – Månen Ska Lysa Din Väg Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

February comes down the pipe about two or three months after February. A perfectly normal thing to experience here at AMG HQ, this Filter’s tardiness is brought to you in part by my body getting stuck in one of the tighter conduits that lines the concrete interior of this confounded bunker. My minions are elsewhere, trudging through similar environs, and report their findings to me via eldritch beast telepathy. Since I obviously don’t speak eldritch tongue, I have to use my Codex of Enspongification to decipher these antediluvian transmissions. I’m sure you can imagine, that takes no small measure of time, especially when you’re stuck in this galvanized prison of rusting sheetmetal.

Until my ungrateful minions can find me and rescue me—something I don’t expect to happen anytime soon considering I give them no workers benefits or pay of any kind—you’ll have to make do with the selections of rough-hewn and sharp, but valuable, ore provided below. OBSERVE AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Kenstrosity’s Crusty Grab

Metaphobic // Deranged Excruciations [February 28th, 2025 – Everlasting Spew Records]

When Atlantan death metal quintet Metaphobic caught my attention with the megalithic riffs opening their debut LP Deranged Excruciations, I thought the stank face it brought out of me might be permanent. Nothing new and nothing sophisticated awaits here. Just brutalizing riffs delivered in a relentless sequence of destruction. Lead guitars squeal and scrape against the swampy ground underfoot, leaving a noxious slime trail behind “Mental Deconstruction” and “Execration” that tastes of Tomb Mold, Incantation, and Demilich to varying degrees. Guttural utterances and cacophonic—but accessibly structured—riffs offer the same infernal ferocity of the olden ways. However, in a similar manner to Noxis, their application here feels modern and fresh-ish (“Execration,” “Veiled Horizons,” “Hypnosis Engram”). Not nearly as nuanced as that comparison might suggest, Metaphobic are more than satisfied to use their brutish death metal as a cudgel for blunt force trauma. Nods to death doom in long-form wanderings like “Disciples of Vengeance” and “Insatiable Abyss” provide an appreciable variation in pace, though it doesn’t always work in Metaphobic’s favor. While those songs tend to meander too long on ideas unfit to support such mass for so long, livid outbursts like “Veiled Horizons” and “Reconstituted Grey Matter” more than make up for it. In short Deranged Excruciations commands my attention enough to earn my recommendation here, and my attention going forward.

Tyme’s Missing Minutes

Caustic Phlegm // Purulent Apocalypse [February 28, 2025 – Hells Headbangers]

Caustic Phlegm is the filth project helmed solely by Chestcrush main man Evan Vasilakos, who joyously employed his HM-2 and RAT pedals to create the utter disgustingness that is Purulent Apocalypse. A far cry from the angsty, I’d-rather-see-humanity-dead blackened death metal of his main outfit, Caustic Phlegm is a throwback to the days when Carnage walked the streets of Sweden and Impetigo was melting faces and killing brain cells. Purulent Apocalypse is a platter of pestiferous riffs (“Fouled, Infected & Infested,” “Soft Bones,” “Blister Bliss”), so many it’s like sitting on a death metal toilet puking and shitting riffs ad nauseam. Evan’s drum work, replete with the occasional but very satisfying St. Anger snare tone, drives the mindless fun forward, and the 80’s zombie giallo synth work would have Lucio Fulci himself clawing out of his grave to eat your face. Vasilakos’ vocals are a fine litany of belches, squelches, and gurgles that sound like a colony of maggots cleaning the putrid flesh from a corpulent corpse. Caustic Phlegm is the foul stench of death and will have you reaching for the soap and steel wool as you try to rid yourself of the Purulent Apocalypse infection.

Vermilia // Karsikko [February 14, 2025 – Self Release]

Had the incomparable Darkher not released The Buried Storm in 2022, Vermilia‘s Ruska would have garnered my top spot that year, which put her on my radar for the first time. When I saw Vermilia‘s follow-up, Karsikko had dropped in February—sadly we didn’t receive a promo—I jumped at the chance to filter it. While Karsikko is a bit more straightforward than Ruska, it’s full of liltingly beautiful pianos (“Karsikko”) that give way to icy black metal riffs (“Kansojen Kaipuu”) and gorgeously rendered folk metal melodies (“Koti,” “Veresi”). Comparisons with Myrkur and Suldusk would be appropriate, but Vermilia continues to carve out her own space in the folk black metal scene, marrying beatific melody with beastly aggression. Performing all of the music on Karsikko, as is her one-woman calling card, renders her finished products even more impressive. The highlight has always been the voice, though, as Vermilia deftly transitions between angelic cleans (“Suruhymni”) and frosty rasps (“Vakat”), completing a circle that makes each of her releases a joy to listen to. It’s confounding that another of Vermilia‘s albums is an independent release, which might be artistically intentional or the result of bone-headed label execs. Either way, don’t miss out on Karsikko, as Vermilia shouldn’t stay unsigned for long.

Killjoy’s Drowsy Discovery

Noctambulist // Noctambulist II: De Droom [February 7th, 2025 – These Hands Melt]

Although I love blackgaze, I must admit that it can be challenging to find artists who stand out in the genre, whether through quality songwriting or unexpected twists. It turns out that the Dutch band Noctambulist¹ offers both. Noctambulist II: De Droom is a fun and fresh blend of Deafheaven-adjacent blackgaze with a Molotov cocktail of post-punk energy. The power chord-driven guitar lines prove to be an unexpectedly compatible fuel source to propel the shimmering, gazey tremolos and blackened rasps to new heights. Many songs (particularly “Aderlater” and “Lichteter”) start with neat intro melodies that catch the listener’s attention, then build and ride that momentum throughout the remainder. A faint sense of loss—stemming from the achingly relatable theme of homeownership drifting further out of many people’s reach—pervades the record, but there is also an infectious cheerfulness. Despite their name, Noctambulist are hardly sleepwalking as they tread along a well-worn genre.

Thus Spoke’s Disregarded Diamonds

Sacred Noose // Vanishing Spires [February 2nd, 2025 – Breath Sun Bone Blood]

My experience with Irish extreme metal has been that it is all incredibly dark, twisted, and supremely, gorgeously dissonant.² Belfast³ duo Sacred Noose make absolutely no exception to this rule. Vanishing Spires’ ruthlessly brief 31 minutes are defined by stomach-tightening twisted blackened death designed to cut to the heart of misery and fear. The lurching sensation brought about by rapid tremolo descents and sudden accelerations of ever more dissonant chords, impenetrable drums, and pitch-shifting feedback is nauseating (“Entranced by Concrete Lathe,” “True Emancipation”). The pure horror of the inhuman, high-pitched shrieks answering the already fearsome bellows is anxiety-inducing (“”Black Tempests of Promise,” “Moribund”). The near-constant buzzing of noise is oppressive (“Terminal Prologue,” “True Emancipation”); the creeping, malevolent scales unnerving. And Sacred Noose play with their victim, luring them into a trap of deceptively familiar cavern-core (“Sacred Noose”) before throwing a hood over their head and yanking them backwards into more horrifying mania; or perhaps they’ll start with the assault (“True Emancipation”). This more ‘straightforward’ edge to Sacred Noose is most akin to a faster Sparagmos, while their dominant, demonic personality I can compare most faithfully to Thantifaxath, if Thantifaxath were more death-metal-inclined. Vanishing Spires is the first time since the latter’s 2023 Hive Mind Narcosis that a record has genuinely made me feel afraid.

Crown of Madness // Memories Fragmented [February 28th, 2025 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Life unfortunately got in the way of me giving this a proper review, but Crown of Madness deserve better than to slip by unmentioned. Memories Fragmented is the duo’s debut, but Crown of Madness is one of several projects both are already in.⁴. The ominous yet colourful sci-fi/fantasy cover art and spiky logo scream ‘tech-death’ and that is indeed what Crown of Madness deliver. At base, there is some damn fine technical death metal here that’s impressive and acrobatic (), but snappy, not outstaying its welcome—the entire record barely stretches beyond 35 minutes. But there is more to Memories Fragmented, and as a result, it is memorable.⁵ A drawl to certain refrains (), the tendency to gently sway to a slow, near-pensiveness (), the atmospheric hanging of some tremolos over a warm, dense bass (). There is depth. And it reminded me quite starkly of early Ulcerate. In this vein, the record leans towards the more meandering side of the subgenre, gripping not with hooky riffs and heart-pumping tempos, but an intricate kind of intensity. Memories Fragmented arguably goes too far in the indistinct direction, and as a result, loses immediacy. But the churning, introspective compositions presage the potential for true brilliance on future releases.

Vacuous // In His Blood [February 28th, 2025 – Relapse Records]

Full of youthful vigour, London’s Vacuous demonstrate their willing ability to evolve with their sophomore, In His Blood. While debut Dreams of Dysphoria, which I covered back in 2022, played more or less by the disso-death book, here they are already experimenting. Strange, almost post-metal atmosphere now haunts the boundaries (“Hunger,” “Public Humiliation,” “No Longer Human”), combining brilliantly with the band’s already cavernous death metal sound, and amplifying its fearsomeness. Crowning example of this is the gem Vacuous save for the record’s final act in closer “No Longer Human.” In His Blood also sees them flirt with a punkier energy that borrows more than a little bit of malice from the blackened handbook (“In His Blood,” “Flesh Parade”), backed up by d-beats, and contrasting well with their now less frequent crawls. At its most explosive, In His Blood feels downright unhinged, in the best way (“Stress Positions,” “Immersion”), but it never feels messy, and there’s potential in here for Vacuous to evolve into yet another, incredibly potent form of unique, modern hybrid extreme metal. I wish there were more than 30 minutes of this.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Bottom o’ the Barrel Boons

Pissgrave // Malignant Worthlessness [February 21st, 2025 – Profound Lore Records]

Though it may appear, at a glance, that I have gold-colored glasses for bands of rank and urological reference, I’d call it more of a chance happening that such miscreant acts have created intriguing works. And, truthfully, PISSGRAVE has leaned closer to filth first, function second with the war-leaning crackle (and brazenly offensive cover art) that relegates their lineage to corners of listening ears who need therapy with a high tolerance for guts and grime. Malignant Worthlessness, of course, is not accessible by any means, though, despite these Philly boys packing these nine ode to a failed society in a package that doesn’t cause immediate squirm. But with grooves trapped in an endless skronk and blast, and vocals shifted and layered to reflect the sound of a swarm of Daffy Ducks with a serious disdain for life, PISSGRAVE still embodies an endless swirl of unleashed aggression rendered in riffed and regurgitated form. Malignant Worthlessness lives on the dry and crispy side with most of its tones, which allows copious hits of quick delay and reverb on OUGHs and EEEEEEEUGHs to land with an extra psychedelic knocking when you least expect it. Little slows down the pain train here, with tracks like “Heaping Pile of Electrified Gore” and “Internment Orgy” taking brief detours into chunky guitar builds that feel within grasp of normalcy just before dropping back into an intensified flaying. Elsewhere, a martial urgency that reminds of Paracletus-era Deathspell Omega or the industrial-tinged pummel of Concrete Winds, stirs a twitching movement response, all while retaining a grinding death snarl and chromatic fury, leading its fused-by-hatred structures toward an explosive and fuming conclusion. Humanity has no place in the PISSGRAVE environs, and Malignant Worthlessness, in its celebration of a hostile world, does everything it can to reinforce that.

終末回路 // 終端から引き剥がす [February 20th, 2025 – Self Release]

For things that wander around the math rock world, nailing a vibe remains essential to enjoyment. It’s all too easy in this day and edge to fall into the comfortable trap of ambient tapping and comfortable posty swirls to pleasant crescendos that renders many modern acts to high brow background music (even including bands I like, to a degree, like Covet or Jizue). New Japanese act 終末回路,⁶ however, chooses to imbue their nimble and tricky instrumental center with the searing emotion and urgency of a noisy post-hardcore, with searing vocal inclusions adding a gravitas to passages that would otherwise threaten to flutter away in glee (“誤殖,” “知らねぇよ”). On one end, 終末回路 delivers a bright playfulness that swings with the pedal power and psychedelia of a young Tera Melos. Yet, weighted with a punk urgency and rawer Japanese assembly of tones, which give a physical clang to tight kit heads and blazing squeal to shrill loops and feedback, 終末回路 finds a constant momentum in their shorter form excursion that makes my lack of understanding of its introspective lyrics a non-issue. Packing plaintive piano melodies (“ご自由に “), speaker blowing synth cranking (“dgdf++be”), and prog-tinged guitar flutters (“知らねぇよ”) into one listening session isn’t easy, but with this debut outing of 終端から引き剥がす,⁷ 終末回路 makes it seem as if they’ve been honing the craft for years.

Saunders’ Salacious Skeeves

Möuth // Gobal Warning [February 14th, 2025 – Self Release)

Veteran rockers The Hellacopters returned with a typically rollicking, fun album in February. Elsewhere, dropping with little fanfare, fellow Swedes and unsung power trio Möuth emerged with an intriguing debut rock platter, entitled Global Warning. Featuring more than meets the eye and flashing a dynamic rock sound, Möuth embrace both retro and modern influences, whipped into an infectious concoction of styles, ranging from Sabbathian lurches, doomy grooves, stoner vibes, and elements of psych, punk and hard rock. For the most part it works a treat, creating a welcome change of pace. Fuzzy, upbeat rockers (“Dirt,” “Appetite”) snugly reside amongst moody, psych-bending numbers (“Alike,” “Mantra”), and heavier doom-laden rock, such as powerful opener “Holy Ground,” and brooding, emotive album centerpiece, “Sheep.” Vocally, the passionate, Ozzy-esque croons hit the spot, matching up well to the band’s multi-pronged rock flavors. Compact and infectious, varied in delivery and featuring enough tasty rhythms, fuzzy melodies and rock punch to satisfy, Global Warning marks an intriguing starting point for these Swedish rockers.

Chaos Inception // Vengeance Evangel [February 21st, 2025 – Lavadome Productions]

Emerging from a deep slumber in the depths of the underground, Alabama’s long dormant death metal crew Chaos Inception returned with their first album since 2012’s The Abrogation. Third album Vengeance Evangel went under the radar, festering unclaimed in the promo sump. After the fact, the album’s crushing, controlled chaos smacked me upside the skull with a violent modern interpretation of the classic Floridian death metal sound, with the musty hues of Tucker-era Morbid Angel most prevalent. This is blast-riddled, relentless stuff, played expertly by the trio of Matt Barnes (guitars), Gray White (vocals) and session drummer Kevin Paradis (ex-Benighted). Incredibly dense, atmospheric, and blazingly fast, Vengeance Evangel is a brutal, knotty, technical hammering, punctuated by sick, wildly inventive soloing. While not traditionally catchy, Vengeance Evangel is the kind of intense, layered death metal album that gets under the skin, grafting a deeper impression across repeated listens. The insane tempo shifts, jigsaw arrangements, and wickedly deranged axework delivers big time. From the violent, intricate throes of opener “Artillery of Humwawa,” and disturbed soundscapes of “La Niebla en el Cementerio Etrusco,” through to the brutish grooves of ‘Thymos Beast,” and exotic, tech death shards of “Empire of Prevarication,” Vengeance Evangel does not neatly fit into any one subgenre category but ticks many boxes to cast a wide appeal to death fans of varied equations.

Steel Druhm’s Viscous Biscuits

Ereb Altor // Hälsingemörker [ February 7th, 2025 – Hammerheart Records]

Steel loves his epic metal. I was raised on the stirring odes to swordsmanship and ungovernable back hair from Manowar and Cirth Ungol, and in time, I took a place at the great table in Wotan’s Golden Halls to appreciate the Viking metal exploits of Bathory and later adherents like Falkenbach and Moonsorrow. Sweden’s Ereb Altor got in the game late with their epic By Honour debut in 2008, boasting a very Bathory-esque sound and emotional tapestry that felt larger-than-life and stirred the loins to begird themselves. 10th album Hälsingemörker is a glorious return to those halls of heroes and bravery. This is the large-scale songcraft first heard on Bathory albums like Hammerheart and Twilight of the Gods, and it’s most welcome to these ape ears. Cuts like “Valkyrian Fate” are exactly the kind of sweeping, epic numbers the band’s excelled at over the years. It takes the core sound of Viking era Bathory and builds outward to craft bombastic and heroic compositions that feel HUUUGE. It’s the kind of metal song that embiggens the soul and makes you want to take on a marauding horde by your lonesome and usurp all their battle booty. On “Hälsingemörker,” you get a fat dose of Moonsorrow worship, and elsewhere, Primordial is strongly referenced to very good effect. Hälsingemörker is easily the best Ereb Altor album in a while and the most in line with their beloved early sound. Strap on the sword and get after it!

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

If you’re looking to place The Spin in Messa’s discography, it’s probably closest in tone to Feast for Water. However, it’s a smoother experience. Rather like using a velvetiser to make your hot chocolate. It’s still hot chocolate. But it’s thicker, richer, and, well, velvet-ier. The Spin has been velvetised in two key ways. First, Sara’s smouldering, siren-like vocals have hit a whole new level, with the power on her sustains (“Fire on the Roof” and “Void Meridian,” in particular) imbuing The Spin with such a sense of power. Secondly, guitarist Alberto has leant harder into the progressive doom of Vanishing Kids, paired with the languid blues of his solo debut (Little Albert’s Swamp King), all buried in a guitar tone that Pink Floyd would be delighted by (“Reveal” and the gorgeous back end of “Immolation”). Where Feast had a slightly roughened, old-school Trouble or Pentagram edge to its haunting, crooning vibe, Messa are now operating in bigger, more expansive—and, frankly, more expensive-sounding—territories, recalling the likes of recent Green Lung (“At Races”) and Beth Hart (“Fire on the Roof” and “Immolation”).

And yet, Messa are still unmistakably Messa. From the yawing electronica that opens The Spin on “Void Meridian,” through The Gathering-meets-psychedelic-lounge-jazz of “The Dress” to the oppressive, brooding heaviness of closer “Thicker Blood,” the constantly shifting sonic palette draws on soundscapes that are familiar from each record in the band’s back catalogue. At the same time, The Spin is more anthemic than previous albums, with almost-nailed-on song o’ the year “Fire on the Roof” leading the way, its huge, trad doom chorus a thing of beauty, while the smoky, mesmerising verses find Sara almost chanting. In fact, “Fire…” is the start of a three-track run that, for me, is pretty well the best material Messa has written, as it leads into the fragile keys and bluesy, cathartic build of “Immolation” before “The Dress” hits. It is this that sets The Spin slightly apart from previous Messa albums, which have an organic flow to them, where this latest offering feels slightly more like a collection of songs.

While The Spin does feel less like a single, flowing composition than previous Messa records, it doesn’t lack cohesion, and the massive, standout highs offer plenty of compensation for that slight loss in flow. This may be explained by the fact that, unlike Close, the band chose to record this album separately, across several locations and periods, with (apparently) a lot of rearrangement of the material to get to the finished record. Messa also focused on simplifying and stripping back the song structures, which makes them more digestible. Although there are no weak songs on The Spin, opener “Void Meridian” lacks bite and never quite hits its stride, while penultimate cut “Reveal” feels like it belongs on an earlier Messa album, particularly in its chugging middle passage. I touched above on the beautiful guitar tone that Alberto and Mark Sade have found, so thick and meaty you can practically bite into it. Apparently, the band focused on using as much original 80s equipment as possible, which could have something to do with it.

At this point, it’s becoming apparent that Messa basically can’t miss. Whatever they turn their hand to, they manage to retain their identity, while writing diverse, interesting and, most importantly, absolutely banging albums. The Spin is no exception, from the bright, propulsive energy of “At Races” to the stark beauty of “Immolation,” Messa have done it again. At a tight 43 minutes, this album races by and, when it finishes, the only reason I don’t simply start it again is that I usually want to listen to “Fire on the Roof” a couple of times first. Less challenging and more immediate than previous records, but no less beautiful for it, The Spin perhaps shows the influence of bigger label Metal Blade on the band. I hope it earns them some deserved dollar bills.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: messa.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MESSAproject
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

Dolphin Whisperer

My brother-in-law loves metal, and I don’t think he’d be offended if I were also to say that he’s not particularly invested in finding new metal to listen to in the modern scene. However, on one ride in the car, I had Messa’s 2022 opus Close on at a moderate volume, prompting him to investigate what exactly was enchanting his ears. After that outing, he and my sister returned to their home, another five-plus hour drive, and she sent me a text saying that they binged Messa’s discog a couple times on the way back; he was in love. You see, despite the quirks that give Messa their mystical air, the crafty Italians possess the secret to all great rock music: volume-scaling power, a unique and soaring vocal presence, and big, fat hooks. The Spin, of course, is no exception.

In that regard, Messa follows their own lineage by never delivering the same album twice. The journey from post/drone atmospherics of Belfry to the heavier occult/doom worn Feast for Water to the MENA jazz-loaded snake charming Close, each entry in their catalog serves as an ode to their inherent tendency to experiment while holding true to a base of doom weight and rock attitude. Vocalist Sara Bianchin has transformed alongside Messa’s journey too, with her earliest performances reflecting the youth of her experience in rawer mic reflections. But The Spin leans on sounds from the ’80s, and, in turn, Bianchin’s now studied attack runs recklessly through swirling and swelling layers of echo and shrill serenade. Elsewhere, chorus pedal abuse, gothy reverb, and low-end synth propulsions mark The Spin’s throwback dance in the Messa stride—Disintegration-echoing bass leads (“Void Meridian,” “At Races”) crashing against Tears for Fears brooding throbs (“The Dress,” “Thicker Blood”) running through call-and-response guitar lead explosions (every. song.). It’s easy to fall prey to the sense of nostalgia that such sounds stimulate.

However, in a sense of reverence for the past, not just a wistful longing, The Spin weaves its own home in familiar textures. Messa finds a comfort in dreamy textures indebted to foundational post-punk works—those of The Sound or Joy Division—while still injecting a metallic edge of heavyweight chord drives and aggressive rhythms (“Fire on the Roof,” “Thicker Blood”). Doom anchors the drama, as always, in slow builds and syllable stretches that crawl and lurch against Messa’s chosen palette of Roland-modulated simmers and proto-shoegaze dissonance (“Void Meridian,” “The Dress”). And, of course, Messa lives life in the fast lane switching and melding identities on a dime, with late album cut “Reveal” pairing a heavy blues twang, frantic bursts of blast beats, and Bianchin’s wailing narrative for an anachronistic detour that both upends and upholds The Spin’s playful historical lens.

As Messa’s shortest album to date, The Spin’s seven cuts go down smooth but lacking in the kind of wholeness that other works have held. On one hand, it’s easy to work in The Spin to whatever length of time allows—a quick hit or two of your favorites as you dress for the day ahead, a longer commute as the sun moves from straight in the eyes to waving from the side, a jog around the neighborhood with canine companions. Movement, or rather transience, sits at the core of Messa’s themes here after all: the chase for meaning in a strained world (“Void Meridian”), the weight of choice that can’t decide a push or pull (“Immolation”), and accepting what lurks around the corner (“Thicker Blood”). And so The Spin demands more as an encapsulation of wandering, but it’s a human quest that’s easy to indulge as you see fit.

Neither a slow-burn nor a peel out, The Spin saunters at a breathing, bustling pace that manages to hustle ahead of a growing movement gazey and hazey doom wielders. I, too find solace in genre cousins like the jazzy and equally textured Moths or the pleading missions of Slumbering Sun, but Messa continues to find ways to wield weaponized guitar heroism, fat-bottomed tones, and sultry synthesis in a way that feels true to their growing discography while reaching to new fans and new sounds. Music this powerful stands ready to inspire binge listening, tone envy, and, with any luck, another generation hopelessly addicted to six strings screaming at unadvisable volumes.

Rating: 4.0/5.0

The post Messa – The Spin Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

I am a stubborn bitch. I work my underlings hard, and I won’t let up until they dig up shiny goodies for me to share with the general public. Share might be a generous term. Foist upon is probably more accurate…

In any case, despite some pretty intense setbacks on my end, I still managed to collect enough material for a two-month spread. HUZZAH! REJOICE! Now get the hell away from me and listen to some of our very cool and good tunes.

Kenstrosity’s Turgid Truncheons

Tenue // Arcos, bóvedas, pórticos [August 1st, 2024 – Self-Release]

Spanish post-black/crust/screamo quartet Tenue earned my favor with their debut record, Anábasis, back in 2018. Equal parts vicious, introspective, and strangely uplifting, that record changed what I thought I could expect from anything bearing the screamo tag. By integrating ascendant black metal tremolos within post-punk structures and crusty attitude, Tenue established a sound that not only opened horizons for me taste-wise but also brought me a great deal of emotional catharsis on its own merit. Follow-up Arcos, bóvedas, pórticos deepens that relationship. Utilizing a wider atmospheric palette (“Distracción”), a shift towards epic song lengths (“Inquietude”), and a greater variety of instrumentation (observe the beautiful horns on long-form opener “Inquietude”), and a bluesier swagger than previous material exhibited (“Letargo”), Tenue’s second salvo showcases a musical versatility I wasn’t expecting to complement the bleeding-heart emotional depth I knew would return. This expansion of scale and skillset sets the record apart from almost anything else I’ve heard this year. Even though one or two moments struggle to stick long-term (“Enfoque”), Arcos, bóvedas, pórticos represents an affecting, creative, and ridiculously engaging addition to my listening schedule. And for the low low price of NYP, it ought to be a part of yours as well.

Open Flesh Wound // Vile Putrefaction [August 28th, 2024 – Inherited Suffering Records]

Thicc, muggy slam with a million pick scrapes. Who could ask for anything more? Not I, and so it is with great pleasure that I introduce to my AMG fam Pennsylvania’s very own Open Flesh Wound and their debut LP Vile Putrefaction. Essentially the result of Analepsy’s and Devourment’s carnal lovemaking, Vile Putrefaction is a nasty, slammy, brutal expulsion of chunky upchuck. Only those with the most caved-in craniums will appreciate the scraping swamp-ass riffs showcased on such slammers as “Smashed in Liquids” and “Cinder Block to the Forehead,” or the groove-laden thuggery of death-focused tracks like the title track, “Fermented Intestinal Blockage” and “Body Baggie.” Vile Putrefaction’s molasses-like production is an absolute boon to this sound as well, with just enough gloss to provide a deliciously moist texture which imparts an unlikely clarity to especially gruesome details in “Stoma Necrosis” and “Skin Like Jelly.” It’s dumb as hell, and isn’t doing anything new, but is an overdose of good, dirty fun. Simple as.

The Flaying // Ni dieu, ni ma​î​tre [September 5th, 2024 – Self Release]

I’ve been singing Canadian melodic death metal quartet The Flaying’s praises for almost six years now. And still to this day not enough people choose to sing with me. Why? Because they wouldn’t know sickeningly fun death metal if it hacked their faces right off. That’s okay, because The Flaying do hack faces right off regardless, and it feels so good to watch the faces of those who don’t heed my call get hacked right off. Third onslaught Ni dieu, ni ma​î​tre proves that once again, The Flaying are an unstoppable force of bass wizardry, riff mastery, and hook-laden songwriting. Opener “Le nécrologiste” perfectly encapsulates The Flaying’s particularly addicting brew of Cannibal Corpse, The Black Dahlia Murder, and De Profundis influences, shaken and stirred until the resulting cocktail blooms with a flavor all its own. Technical and brutally fast, follow-up track “L’enclave” continues the deadly rampage, featuring noodly bass lines guaranteed to elicit stank face in the even most prim and proper elite. A trim twenty nine minutes, spread over ten tightly trained tracks, Ni dieu, ni ma​î​tre boasts unbeatable replay value. Highlights “Ni dieu, ni ma​î​tre,” “Les Frondes” “La forge,” and “Noyau sombre” seal the deal by providing sharp hard points and memorable landmarks to which any listener would look forward. Simply put, this record rocks my socks and further proves that I am right about The Flaying, and those who ignore my recommendation are wrong.

Dolphin Whisperer’s All-Seeing Affirmations

Eye Eater // Alienate [August 1st, 2024 – Self Release]

In a post-Ulcerate world, the modern output of atmosphere-minded death metal has grown exponentially. With ringing dissonant chords and slow post-informed builds taking center stage, bands like New Zealand’s unheralded Eye Eater borrow plenty from the Destroyers of All sound. However, while many acts would be content to dial in the space or ramp up the dissonance to try and put their own twist on this growing post-death movement, Eye Eater looks to the laser-precise melodic tones of progressive, core-borrowing names like Fallujah and Vildhjarta to carve an identity into each of Alienate’s album eight sprawling tracks. Swinging sustained brightness in one hand about the grizzly chug-crush of the other, burly bangers like “Other Planets” and “Failure Artifacts” find churning, djentrified grooves that amplify the swell of the blaring melodies that swirl above the low-end clamor. And though the main refrains of “Alienate” and “Everything You Fear and Hope For” sound like loving odes to their Kiwi Forebears, the growth into sonorous and lush-chorded peaks lands much closer to the attraction of turn of the 10s progressive death/metalcore luminaries The Contortionist had they stayed closer to their heavy-toned, hefty-voiced roots. As an anonymous act with little social presence, it’s hard to say whether Eye Eater has more cooking for the future. With their ears tuned to the recent past for inspiration, it’s easy to see how a band with this kind of melodic immediacy—still wrapped in the weight of a brooding, death metal identity—could easily play for the tops of underground charts. To those who have been following the twists and turns of both underground and accessible over the past decade or so, Eye Eater may not sound entirely novel. But Alienate’s familiarity in presence against its quality of execution and fullness of sound makes it easy to ensnare all the same.

Dissolve // Polymorphic Ways of Unconsciousness [September 20th, 2024 – Self Release]

From the sand-blasted, monochrome human escaping the floor of Polymorphic Ways’ cover to the tags of technical, progressive, death that adorn the Bandcamp tags, it’s easy to put a band like Dissolve in a box, mentally. But with the first bent guitar run that sets off “Efficiency Defiled” in a run like Judas Priest more than Spawn of Possession, it’s clear that Dissolve plays by a different set of rules than your average chug and run tech death band. Yet true to their French nature, the riffs that litter Polymorphic Ways of Unconsciousness possess a tangible groove following the footsteps of lesser-known tricksters Trepalium and Olympic titans of metal Gojira (“The Great Pessimistic,”¹ “Polymorphic Ways of Unconsciousness,” “Vultures”). And while too Dissolve finds a base in the low-end trem assault of Morbid Angel (“Ignorance Will Prevail”), there’s a thrash and bark energy at play that nets a rambunctious and experimental sound recalling the warped Hetfield-ian (Metallica) scrawl of Destroy Erase Improve Meshuggah, right down to the monstrous bass tone that defines Sonny Bellonie’s (Sanctuary, ODC) growling, extended range performance. As a trio it’d be easy for guitarist Briac Turquety (Smerter, ex-Sideburn) to rely on overdubs for saturation of sound and complexity of layers—and for solo cut-ins he definitely does—but equally as often his choice to let certain chords and notes escape a thrashy muting to ring in distorted harmony against snaking bass lines. And speaking of solos, Turquety’s prowess ranges from bluesy shred (“The Great Pessimistic,” “Ropes of Madness”) to noisy, jazzy explorations (“Polymorphic…,” “Shattered Minds of Evolution”) to Satriani on Slayer whammy abuse (“Bonfire of the Vanities”)—a true treat to lovers of tasteful shred. Turquety, Bellonie, and Quentin Feron (on drums, also of Smerter) sound as if they’ve been playing together for much longer than the year that Dissolve has existed. With a debut this polished, it’s anyone’s guess as to what kind of monster will emerge from the talent that appears so effortless in assembly.

Obsidian Mantra // As We All Will [September 27th, 2024 – Self Release]

Sometimes, a tangled and foreboding cover sits as the biggest draw amongst a crowd of death metal albums alight with splattered zombie remains, illegible logos, and alarm-colored palettes. And in the case of Obsidian Mantra, it doesn’t hurt that lead single “Cult of Depression” possesses a devastating, hypnotic groove that recalls the once captivating technical whiplash of an early Decapitated. However, rather than wrestle with tones that incite a pure and raw violence like that cornerstone act (or similar Poldeath that has followed in its legacy like Dormant Ordeal), Obsidian Mantra uses aggressive and bass-loaded rhythmic forms to erupt in spacious and glass-toned guitar chimes to create an engrossing neck-snapping (“Slave Without a Master,” “Condemned to Oppression”). Whether we call these downcast refrains a dissonant melody or slowly resolving phrase, they grow throughout each track in a manner that calls continual reinforcement from a rhythm section that can drop into hammering blasts at a dime and a vocal presence that oscillates between vicious snarl and reverberating howl. In its most accessible numbers (“Chaos Will Consume Us All,” “Weavers of Misery”), Obsidian Mantra finds an oppressive warmth that grows to border anthemic, much in the way like beloved blackened/progressive acts like Hath do with their biggest moments. As We All Will still never quite reaches that full mountainous peak, though, opting to pursue the continual call of the groove to keep the listener coming back. Having come a long way from the Meshuggah-centered roots where Obsidian Mantra first sowed their deathly seeds, As We All Will provides 30 minutes of modern, pulsating, and venomous kick-driven pieces that will flare easy motivation for either a brutalizing pit or a mightily-thrusted iron on leg day.

Thus Spoke’s Cursed Collection

Esoctrilihum // Döth-Derniàlh [September 20th, 2024 – I, Voidhanger Records]

We complete another orbit around the Sun, and Esoctrilihum completes another album; such are the inalterable laws governing each 365.25 Earth day period in our Solar System. Possessed by some mad, restless spirit, it seems they cannot be stopped. Ever the experimenter, sole member Asthâghul now picks up an acoustic guitar, a nickelharpa, and warms up his throat for more clean vocals to further bizarre-ify his avant-garde black metal. As we travel into the cosmos for Döth-Derniàlh, Esoctrilihumisms abound in the see-sawing strings and echoes of chanted singing and throaty snarls. The addition of more acoustic elements does bring some weird delicacy to moments here and there (“Zilthuryth (Void of Zeraphaël),” “Murzaithas (Celestial Voices)”), and it adds layers of beauty in addition to those already harmonious passages. it’s striking how well these new instruments blend with the overall sound: so well, in fact, that it almost feels like Esoctrilihum hasn’t evolved at all. This isn’t even a bad thing, because Döth-Derniàlh still feels like an improvement. Past albums have always had at least sections of perfection, where the scattered clouds of self-interfering chaos or repetition blow away and the brilliant light of the moon shines strongly. Döth-Derniàlh has more of these than ever, some extending to whole, 16-minute songs (“Dy’th Eternalhys (The Mortuary Renewal),”).² If you have it in you to listen to one (more) album over an hour long, and you don’t already know you hate Esoctrilihum, sit down with a drink, and maybe a joint, and go where Döth-Derniàlh takes you.

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