While MØL was once a direct competitor to Deafheaven, they have largely moved on to a different market segment. The change is most apparent in the guitars, which traded the muscular black metal riffs for a dreamy hybrid of classic shoegaze and vintage alt-rock hooks à la The Smashing Pumpkins or Silversun Pickups. At the same time, traces of more modern acts can be detected. The pairing of cheery, punk-tinged guitar chords with blackened rasps calls to mind Noctambulist. Other times, Dreamcrush is like a more gazey, less mathy version of Rolo Tomassi. Somehow, MØL has created something that feels both fresh and nostalgic.

These significant overhauls that MØL made to their formula have vastly improved replayability. On previous records, the guitars did a lot of the heavy lifting to convey nuanced emotion while the vocals mainly draped a uniform blanket of fury. Now, Kim Song Sternkopf’s clean singing shares much more of the melodic load. His harsh vocal range has also been noticeably expanded from his usual high-pitched snarls, dipping into low growls during tracks such as “Young” and “A Former Blueprint.” Dreamcrush is also more dynamic from an instrumental perspective, from the jangling guitar strumming (“Små Forlis”) to dark riffing (“Young”) to delicate strings (“Favour”). While I do enjoy MØL’s prior work, it didn’t quite escape a sense of homogeneity until now.

There are, however, a few small kinks in MØL’s newfound musical direction. Even though their melodies are distinctive, the song structures become a tad predictable, often alternating between clean-sung verses and lead guitar/harsh vocal choruses. Also, several songs have limp, unsatisfying conclusions (“DREAM,” “Dissonance”), slightly hampering the overall flow. Finally, Dreamcrush’s midsection (“Hud,” “Garland,” and “Favour”) is considerably softer than usual for MØL, which I personally appreciate but may cause some existing fans to take issue. I will say, however, that these tracks feature the more dazzling guitar solos, and the tail end of Dreamcrush hearkens more to MØL’s former aggression. Dreamcrush’s individual track lengths have been trimmed to reach an easily digestible total runtime of 42 minutes.

MØL continues to defy genre stereotypes, though in a much different way than before. No longer content to zoom past other groups in the blackgaze lane, they unexpectedly shifted to various other rock subgenres. Some longtime fans may be disappointed by the waning black metal, but MØL is still ethereal and heavy with skill that many of their peers strive for but rarely achieve. I can genuinely say that Dreamcrush is my favorite MØL release to date, and they have removed many of the barriers that were preventing me from fully embracing fandom. While Dreamcrush may not perfectly come together as a whole, it proves that MØL isn’t inclined to sit still and grow complacent.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: moeldk.bandcamp.com | molband.com | facebook.com/moeldk
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

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Let Water Flow sits nicely in the second-wave black metal lane. Perhaps the best touchstone for Moon Wisdom’s sound is Immortal. Similar to Diabolical Fullmoon Mysticism, “Intro” plucks gentle, atmosphere-drenched chords as the lead-in to the first proper song. “As Rain”—one of the advance singles—dashes from Kaelos’s epic riffing to Faith’s sinister screeching and Hexis’s galloping drum work. Tasty solos are a recurring theme across the album, similar to Havukruunu draping classic shred over Immortal black metal (“Frozen Soul,” “Solitude”). “Dark Shades,” the other advance single, demonstrates a more modern version of Moon Wisdom’s second-wave worship. The song’s sparse, textural bridge transforms its evil opening into an affecting gateway for mournful modulations and a furious finale. Throughout Let Water Flow, shifts between macabre delicacy and blackened crudity bring Lamp of Murmuur to mind.

The concise runtime of Let Water Flow cuts like a double-edged sword. It makes the album eminently relistenable but draws attention to inconsistent songwriting. “As Rain,” for instance, opens the album with dynamic concision, but its concluding solo ends abruptly, reading more like a bridge than a destination. “Ashen Winds” suffers a similar fate. It develops an engaging interplay between creepy and pummeling riffs that culminates too soon. Conversely, “Frozen Soul,” the mid-album curveball, could be trimmed. The song establishes an enchanting, melancholic vibe, but redundancy hits in its slow-building rock crescendo. “Dark Shades,” the last proper song, stands as the strongest track on Let Water Flow. It showcases Moon Wisdom’s talent for creating something epic that isn’t overlong. Unfortunately, the album (essentially) ends here; the brief “Lullaby of the Woods” puts the album to bed, but “Dark Shades” sounds like the band finally starting the day.

Let Water Flow possesses compelling qualities that, if accentuated, would cultivate Moon Wisdom’s sound. As mentioned, the band professes a depressive blackgaze influence. Sonically, this mostly unadorned record doesn’t really impart a gaze aesthetic. “Frozen Soul” comes closest to inspiring hypnotic shore-staring, especially in its enticing bass feature.¹ But the song, like the album, embodies gaze less through production effects and more through compositional dynamics. I actually like that Moon Wisdom doesn’t drown their guitarwork in reverb. Still, the sparse sections could be developed to give these songs more character. Moon Wisdom also cites a punk influence, but I didn’t detect much of this across Let Water Flow. Beyond “As Rain,” which contains a d-beat, nothing struck me (musically) as punk. A pretty non-punk element on the album is the violin on closer “Lullaby of the Woods.” More of this would have worked well, especially on the “gaze” sections.²

Let Water Flow—I’m surprised to say—had me experiencing Metal Deficiency.³ I commend Moon Wisdom’s impulse towards brevity, but the album feels like an EP with a short intro/conclusion framework tacked on. The inconsistent songwriting and underexplored derivations keep this debut from feeling vital and fully realized. At only 28 minutes, however, Let Water Flow is certainly worth a spin, especially if black metal is your jam. Moon Wisdom satisfy the second-wave itch while showing potential for more. If properly harnessed, their tendency towards terseness might produce a follow-up combating the scourge of Metal Fatigue.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2026

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Astronoid

The core sound of Stargod is unmistakably Astronoid, but this time the group leans further into pop-focused songwriting. Their trademark mix of prog, shoegaze, and post-rock remains intact with all the familiar hallmarks: gleeful blast beats, major-key harmonies, soaring choirboy vocals, and buoyant synths. However, they’re used in the service of sharper, chorus-driven compositions that rely on dynamics and layering to strengthen their saccharine, high-energy attack. Slower, ballad-like tracks such as “Stargod” and “Beneath the Lights” exemplify this approach, building evocative, vocal-centered songs on synth-forward grooves while guitar harmonies are added or stripped away for maximum impact around a memorable chorus. These are nicely balanced by more immediate up-tempo cuts which swirl around a hypnotizing central synth motif (“Explosive”) or follow a pop-punk tinged guitar charge (“Dream Protocol ’88”) which melds the band’s familiar sense of high-energy elation with this record’s improved sense of dynamics and hooks. Stargod is a thoroughly pleasant and varied record—balanced, uplifting, and easy to throw on to just bathe in Astronoid’s signature jubilance.

Part of Stargod’s shimmer comes from the newfound confidence radiating from Astronoid’s vocalist, guitarist, and principal songwriter, Brett Boland. His ethereal tenor has always been central to the band’s sound, but here it shines brighter than ever, carried by lush vocal harmonies that elevate every track. Beyond his usual roles, Boland also handles drums on this record and co-mixed the entire album with bassist and synth player Daniel Schwartz. The result is Astronoid’s best-sounding release yet. The synths, in particular, stand out—glowing with both playful innocence and heartfelt emotion—while every element, from the warm, nuanced drumming to the crunchy, reverberant guitar leads, feels immediate and expressive. Mid-tempo rockers like “Third Shot” and “Sabian” land especially hard, gliding between soaring choruses, restrained verses, and climactic solos. Altogether, Stargod feels like the complete, uncompromising realization of a band finally confident in pursuing their true sound.

My biggest critique of Stargod might seem like a bit of a cop-out, but my favorite tracks are the ones that most closely resemble the blast-heavy style of Air. The opening tracks, “Embark” and “Love Weapon,” bring back the high-energy, blast-driven sound of Astronoid’s debut, but with tighter songwriting and immaculate production. This style makes a return on the closing track, “Arrival,” which ends the album with a stunning climax. On repeated listens, I find myself feeling slightly underwhelmed by the middle section of Stargod as it relaxes its grip on the throttle. While those middle tracks are still beautiful and engaging in their own right, I do find myself longing ever so slightly for more blast beat goodness and it’s a bit disappointing that my favorite moments still come from the songs that echo the band’s earlier sound. That said, taken as a whole, Stargod is still a remarkable accomplishment.

With Stargod, I see Astronoid in a position similar to where Leprous found themselves with Malina. While I miss the sheer bombast of Astronoid’s earlier sound, I can’t help but admire the impeccable craftsmanship on display as the band continues to evolve. Stargod is packed with intelligently written, dynamic pop songs that capture the magic of what made Astronoid special in the first place, while confidently showcasing the sonic maturity they’ve developed over the years. Is Stargod a true sequel to Air? Not at all—but it doesn’t need to be. It stands as an impressive record that thrives on its own strengths.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: 3DOT Recordings
Websites: astronoidband.com | facebook.com/astronoidband
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

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Like its namesake, Umbra is dark, but in a soft, dreamlike way. The reverberant atmosphere slips between airy weightlessness and dense gravity, as stripped-back liquid plucks and keys trade places with downtuned riffs, and Elisa’s singing also slips between ethereal and ardent. Her voice—along with the music’s overall vibe—recalls some mixture of Darkher, Halsey, and Draconian’s Heike Langhans, and against the smoky backdrop, adds to the music’s shadowy mystique. Sometimes creeping along with shuddering gravity (“An Avalanche of Shudders,” “Crawl”) or weightlessly (“Swallowed & Disguised”), sometimes bursting forth with spirited post-black or post hardcore energy (“Irreversible,” “The Veil of Your Death”), the album ebbs and flows to the fading and resurgence of cymbals, the final breaths of a vocal line, and the gentle crescendo of synth. While traversing several moods in this manner, Ellereve’s heart stays front and centre, making every resonant strum and note, and every switch up into heavier riffs and faster drums ring with honest emotion.

Umbra is an album of opposites, again embodying the metaphor of the shadow that exists only because of the light. Through this, the music possesses a staying power that’s subtle but powerful. The melodies are melancholic and yet often hopeful, as the notes lift an octave, and ambience, or an uptempo, seeps in. This is a synecdoche for the album’s theme, which surrounds the darkness of loss and trauma, but looks to the light on the other side of the pain. Many songs begin with the stillness of hanging plucks, distorted synth, or stripped-back lamenting, but end with uplifting refrains or assertive heaviness—relative to what came prior (“Funeral,” “Irreversible,” “Trauma”). Other songs showcase the duality in a more blended form. This could be through energetic tempos and brighter chords that transmit strength belying their lyrical solemnity (“Like a moth to a flame,” “The veil of your death”),¹ or through the severe pathos of mournful tremolo and hanging plucks as the emotive singing delivers lyrics of finding strength and purpose (“Unravel,”² “Trauma”). Some songs are even palpably onomatopoeic with quavering chords (“An avalanche of shudders”), strange, creeping synth-percussion patterns (“Crawl”), or heartbreakingly sad gaze (“Lost in Longings”) aptly embodying their title. Things thus feel dynamic but not scattershot, expressive but not overwrought.

I didn’t realize it, but Ellereve is exactly what I needed to hear. Their particular sound, blurring of elements from doom to post to gaze and more, while not totally novel, is magnetic in its distinctiveness. I feel like I know who Ellereve is, because their music communicates it so well. This is only helped by a strong production that emphasises the space created through any reverb, and centres the vocals without burying the instruments. That said, Umbra is hindered ever so slightly by Ellereve’s ambition, covering a lot of ground and in quite rapid succession, as songs all span three to five minutes. Honing in a little tighter, potentially by expanding material into longer tracks, is all it would take to reach greatness.

With Umbra, Ellereve step confidently out of the shadows. As a first transition into post-metal proper, it’s impressively well-crafted and is compelling in its own right. Both deeply emotional and easy to listen to repeatedly, it signals potential for brilliance in the artist’s future.³

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald(EU/ROW) | Eisenwald (US)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

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As it turns out, Sundrowned sounds more like a distant relative of Sunbather rather than a direct heir. While there is a faint resemblance to Deafheaven’s softer side, most of the aggression has been watered down or stripped out completely. Though billed as post-black, what remains is post-metal of the sparkly variety like unto Asthénie. The hazy shoegaze of Become Ethereal still appears in the form of distorted walls of sound during the heavier parts. The increased emphasis on post-metal is a good thing for Higanbana, giving it a more defined shape and structure which suits the deep, growling vocal style better than the meandering, gazey Become Ethereal.

Yet, despite marginal improvements, many of Sundrowned’s prior deficiencies persist into Higanbana. For the most part, they have not fixed the problem of aimlessly drifting to and fro. “Ilex” is the exception to this, with a buildup that feels smooth and purposeful thanks in large part to G.L. Innocent’s dynamic drum performance. Furthermore, post-metal and shoegaze are genres that live or die by their emotional resonance, and Higanbana falls short in this crucial area. Though the instrumentation is highly pleasant, it doesn’t compensate for the vocals. The passionless growls feel almost obligatory, as if only there to prove Sundrowned’s metal pedigree. Admittedly, at times Higanbana has been a soothing balm to my mind after work. Nevertheless, it’s essentially the sonic equivalent of Jell-O—sweet but not substantial or filling.

Also like Jell-O, it’s mostly homogeneous. Whether you like the first track, “Barren,” is a good indicator of whether you should continue consuming, as the menu doesn’t change much. With the exception of the aforementioned “Ilex,” I still cannot differentiate between the songs without checking. The vocals are the biggest culprit, with very little variance in pitch or intensity in the croaking delivery. As for the compositions, the chunkier bits are the least enticing or memorable (again, as with Jell-O). Where Sundrowned shines is in the serene sections, but these tend to be interrupted, seemingly at random, by fuzzy walls of sound that come out of nowhere (“Wisteria,” “Barren”). Another way to think of Higanbana is the jellyfish scene from Finding Nemo—the surroundings are captivating at first but make it nigh impossible to orient oneself.

Try as I might, I can’t see how Higanbana was designed to be anything but background music. Nearly everything about it seems intent to reward passive listens and punish attentive ones. Though it is a marked improvement from the debut, it will likely only work for those looking for a relaxing audio adornment. Higanbana probably would have fared better with more songs in the vein of “Ilex.” As things stand, Sundrowned is not the spiritual successor to the legendary Sunbather that I was hoping for.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Fysisk Format
Websites: sundrownedband.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/SundrownedBand
Releases Worldwide: September 26th, 2025

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-ii- is not a metal band. They play what they seem to call “ghost wave,” which sits somewhere between post-rock, goth, darkwave, trip-hop, and industrial, at times recalling HEALTH or Nine Inch Nails. If this sounds fairly electronics-heavy, it is. But on Apostles of the Flesh, -ii- eschews the drum machines and some other electronics of their debut in favor of live instrumentation, and it’s a resounding success. With l’Huillier’s lively drumming and Racine’s unique instruments,² Apostles of the Flesh feels alive. This organic improvement over Extinction would be nothing to write home about, however, without the impressive songcraft Racine showcases here. Whether it’s a distorted, electronic bridge amidst tribal yet airy instrumentals (“Lotis”), impactful usage of audio effects (“Pearls Beneath the Embers,” “Virginia’s Mirror”), or shimmering synths draped over wistful strings (“The Fountain of Helicon”), everything fits together and flows effortlessly. Of particular note is “When Beauty is a Crime,” where -ii- mirrors its lyrical violence with a tense and uncomfortable atmosphere that refuses to let the listener move on. Apostles of the Flesh is intentional. It’s meticulously crafted. And metal or not, -ii- undoubtedly possesses the Metal Spirit™.

Two elements in particular drive this album’s high caliber: Ruzic’s vocals and l’Huillier’s drums. By turns conflicted (“The Birth of Venus”), seductive (“Sisyphus in Red”), defiant (“Where the Diamonds are Hurled”), and spiteful (“Under the Skin”), Ruzic guides the listener through an examination of the body and its inextricable link to the spirit. Lyrically, she’s transgressive like Ethel Cain or GGGOLDDD, but less direct. Her delivery hies closer to Chelsea Wolfe or Darkher, although -ii- fosters a greater sense of rhythmic urgency. This is largely accomplished by l’Huillier’s standout performance, both carnal and tribal. Hammering at his kit with artful brutality, l’Huillier drives ritualistic numbers (“Sisters of the Coven,” “Digging for Blood”), stricken passages (“Under the Skin,” “When Beauty is a Crime”), and enraptured crescendos (“The Birth of Venus”) with the same skilled hand. The spiraling climax of “The Fountain of Helicon” is a high point, as l’Huillier recklessly hurtles the listener toward the fabled spring. L’Huillier brings an intensity to Apostles of the Flesh that, combined with Ruzic’s provocative and emotive singing, cements this album not just as a collection of good songs, but as an intense, ritualistic experience.

Not only is Racine responsible for the musical arrangements, but he also handles much of the production. The mix is big and spacious, and each instrument gets plenty of room to flourish. Even in the most chaotic moments of Apostles of the Flesh, when drums, vocals, strings, or synths rise to a fever pitch, each element is clear and vibrant (“The Birth of Venus,” “Lotis,” “The Fountain of Helicon”). His use of the soundstage is equally impressive, and because of this, Apostles of the Flesh excels in a pair of headphones over a speaker system. Quivering strings and ethereal synths dynamically float through the space, creating a lost, forlorn sensation on “When Beauty is a Crime” and “Virginia’s Mirror.” Ruzic sounds so close and so private amid the waves and rainfall of spoken word piece “L’Onde et l’Abysse,” it’s as if she speaks to the listener alone.

Apostles of the Flesh is not an album to play in the background, and it’s not for everyone. It demands both your attention and an emotional investment to shine, but shine it does. Some might balk at a 65-minute runtime or note that several songs go on long after Ruzic is done singing. I consider it a testament to Racine’s compositional prowess that these longer outros feel valuable and that the album holds my attention front to back. Apostles of the Flesh is passionate, vulnerable, and cathartic. For those willing to commit, -ii- offers an intense, surreal journey you won’t soon forget.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Youtube
Releases Worldwide: October 3rd, 2025

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Crafted to be an immersive listen, Solastalgia follows a heavy-light-heavy progression. High-energy tracks like “You are the Night,” “Burial” and “The Ashen Falls” boast the crunchy riffs, trem-picked guitars and rhythmic aggression of The Circle, while “Dreamgatherer,” “The Heart of December” and “Rain” shift toward the softer Alecstian sounds of Nightsphere during Solastalgia’s more contemplative middle. Groth absolutely pummels his kit for over an hour with tight blasts, hard-hitting hardcore rhythms, and eclectic fills that add tons of stylistic flair. Likewise, Conrad delivers a standout vocal performance, adding to the material’s raw, emotional feel with Katatonian sadboi cleans and Novembre-like murmurs contrasting blood-curdling screams and sweeping choral hooks. A high-quality production, with a smothering bass tone and cinematic elements like spoken word (“The Ashen Falls”), piano (“Solastalgia,” “Rain”,) and flute (“Season of Grief”) magnifies the immense emotional weight of HERETOIR’s music, creating a charged, multilayered atmosphere fraught with inner conflict and catharsis.

HERETOIR is adept at building a palpable sense of tension and releasing it through explosive crescendos, weaving a rich sonic tapestry of contrasting dynamics. They masterfully execute this formula across the album’s ten¹ tracks with serene, reverb-drenched blackgaze textures juxtaposed by furious blasts, crushing breakdowns and soaring choruses. On “Inertia,” a pensive beginning of ominous piano and cascading tremolos abruptly halts—a pin-drop then detonates, unleashing a devastating maelstrom of thick distortion and ear-piercing screams that propels the track forward. “Season of Grief” is a dynamic journey that gradually builds momentum, shifting from unexpected death metal passages to a quiet, ghostly acoustic bridge before an epic, atmospheric crescendo—driven by Groth’s technical fills—brings the song to an enthralling conclusion. Throughout Solastalgia’s runtime, Conrad’s fluid vocals are key to fusing the album’s wide influences. He seamlessly transitions from soaring, Howard Jones-esque (Killswitch Engage) cleans (“You Are the Night”) to a grief-stricken fry (“Inertia”) and even burly death metal growls (“Season of Grief”), balancing accessibility with profound sorrow and grief.²

With such emotional veracity, an album of Solastalgia’s caliber could easily become too emotionally taxing. But HERETOIR deftly prevents listener burnout by bookending the record with its most expansive compositions. However, while this structure largely succeeds, Solastalgia’s flow is somewhat disrupted by the back-to-back placement of softer tracks like “Dreamgatherer” and “The Heart of December.” Although these tracks provide necessary breaks, their weaker hooks and limited variation make Solastalgia’s middle—from “Rain” through “The Heart of December”—feel a bit like a slog. Furthermore, the inclusion of “Metaphor,” an In Flames cover, at the very end detracts from the album’s flow and would have been better suited as a bonus track.

Even with its minor flaws, Solastalgia provides the perfect welcome to colder and darker seasons, offering a soundtrack for those who seek catharsis and solace in confronting inner turmoil. It successfully blends the best of The Circle and Nightsphere, creating a powerful and immersive tour de force of emotional intensity. Its songwriting takes listeners on a musical journey through a spectrum of genres, from serene blackgaze to aggressive hardcore, progressive death metal, and even screamo. For those drawn to the dark and melancholic, HERETOIR has created a record that successfully fuses their past into an experience that is sure to satisfy.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: heretoir.bandcamp.com/album/solastalgia | heretoir.com | facebook.com/heretoir
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025

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The Offering oscillates fluidly between the “black” and the “gaze” at a moment’s notice. Crystalline post-black tremolo riffs shimmer and dance to and fro, intertwined with distorted guitar chords and blast beats. The dreamier guitarwork is not unlike that of Alcest’s debut Souvenirs d’un Autre Monde, with plenty of Shelter-era influence also thrown in the mix. What sets Sylvanshine apart from many of its blackgaze peers is the heavy reliance on delicate acoustic guitar plucking and strumming in the vein of early Slowdive. There are three tracks entirely dedicated to this instrument, and it features prominently in the bridges of several others to counterbalance the moody aggression with an intimate touch.

It’s clear that Ureche is a guitarist first and foremost.¹ The Offering’s crisp, clear, and poignant lead guitar lines are where the emotional duality alluded to in the promo material shines. The ringing, sorrowful melodies in “Cri de Coeur” and “Rebirth” grow more hopeful as the songs progress, like sunlight breaking through cloudy fissures. If the vocals were similarly expressive, Sylvanshine would be onto something special. They remind me of Sergio Catalán’s deep growls in Winds of Tragedy, but, unfortunately, with more croak than roar. At best, they sound flat (“The Moon and Stars Above,” “Cri de Coeur”) and, at worst, they clash with the guitars (“The Offering”). To his credit, Ureche plays to his strengths by allocating the majority—if not entirety—of each song to instrumental performances.

However, this songwriting decision could have benefited from further refinement in execution. This is particularly true of the tracks that are solely instrumental. It would have been fine to start the album with one acoustic track (“Dirge for a Love”), but the placement of another (“Nothing Will Ever Be the Same”) immediately after the first proper song, “Cri de Coeur,” causes a major pacing stumble. The acoustic guitar bouquet “Reverie” that later follows is gorgeous, but repeats for too long and should have either been fleshed out or trimmed. By the time 5-minute closer “Rebirth” rolls around, instrumental fatigue has set in. Some of the other short songs, “Running from Myself” and “The Offering,” show promise but feel disjointed and underdeveloped. The latter briefly dips into gothic territory midway through, with darker riffs and a haunting organ which sounds slightly out of context here, but the style could fit Sylvanshine very well given more time and attention.

Sylvanshine has all the makings of a young artist in the process of finding his voice, both figuratively and literally. Ion Ureche has a natural talent for composing and performing guitar melodies that mirror the ever-changing spectrum of human emotion. That said, further vocal training—or the addition of a more practiced vocalist—would do wonders for the project. He also has room to grow as a songwriter, and I get the sense that his skill ceiling is high. The Offering is a respectable debut album, but improvement in these main areas will help Sylvanshine to truly stand out amongst the crowd.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Release
Websites: sylvanshine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/sylvanshineMusic
Releases Worldwide: May 23rd, 2025

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Watery Grave is atmoblack in the same way The Mantle-era Agalloch and Pursuit of the Sun-era Woods of Ypres were: unpolished, warm, and vaguely folky. It’s also somewhat gazey at times, channeling a little Alcest, albeit through a less glossy production. Coarse growls resonate over the blurred mélange of washing tremolos and pattering drumbeats, and cleans murmur softly over keyboard chords. There is little aggression beyond the harsh vocals and the odd fracas of blastbeats. A linear approach to songwriting, which yet maintains consistent themes, means tracks flow on with only subtle melodic reprises, if any. And on they do run, with half extending past ten minutes, and the closer grazing twenty. This fits with the overall river imagery, and complements the musical style as something to drift off to, as Esox indulges in many a meandering melodic tangent of mellow strums and dreamy synth.

Watery Grave is rough around the edges, but in a charming and organic way confined to its resonant, raw production and unshowy, deceptive simplicity of arrangements. Esox demonstrate a proficiency to craft truly beautiful little worlds of introspection, where gentle melodies weave between washes of tremolo, the harsh and soft styles blending brilliantly in builds and releases (“As I Descend Below the Water,” “Esox Lucius” “The River Nihilist”); it’s amazing how calming it can feel. Sometimes, it’s pure post, gazey, synthy peace (“Walden”); sometimes, more dynamic. Comparatively intense blackened passages give way to gentle ambience and plucking (“As I Descend…” “Livyatan Melvillei”), or melancholic post-metal (“The River Nihilist”), or a solemn, hazy section bursts into a colourful solo (“Esox Lucius,” “The River Nihilist”). The sounds of water, bubbles, and whale song amplify the insulation created by the unpolished master and peaceful themes, and the undulating current between the claustrophobically dense and the meditative spacious is felt dramatically, which deepens immersion. Emotion is tangible at such apexes, and this, in tandem with the sense of serenity, evokes well the notion of our protagonist sinking downwards, coming to peace with the world.

As pleasant to listen to as Watery Grave generally is, it hits a few snags that harm its flow. It seems a tad unfocused, mainly due to an apparent reluctance to edit. Synth-led “The Unbearable Cry of the Sea,” feels like an unnecessary interlude that flattens the impact of brilliant opener “As I Descend…”; continuing directly into “Livyatan Melvillei” would strengthen things substantially. Comparing this track to the other instrumental, “Walden,” it is clear from the latter that Esox can write a beautiful and moving interlude without sacrificing movement and mood. The longer cuts could all stand to lose a few minutes, but in particular, it is closer “The River Nihilist,” that suffers the most for its length. It goes through so many evolutions, via bridges of ambience and samples, that it seems to lose its way. The song’s potent and beautiful segments, which in isolation might be highlights—lose some of their shine, and the progress it does develop is awkwardly obscured. In a similar vein, “Livytan Melvillei” can strike the ears awkwardly in its more aggressive, organ-synth-accented first act, which is all but forgotten by its melodious second; again, it feels like coherence was an afterthought. This all makes Watery Grave a little frustrating, given other stirring and ethereal movements.¹

And yet any imperfections Watery Grave may possess are easily forgivable, because of its poignancy and charm. This is a daydreamer album, and its blurred edges suit that perfectly. What it lacks in immediacy and strikingness, it makes up for in heart. There’s promise in here that I look forward to seeing developed next time Esox pull us underwater.

Rating: Good
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: wav
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 9th, 2025

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Nostalgia is a strong emotion in the music world, and Bleed ride those throwback feels hard across a tight and punchy collection of airy, spacey alt metal tunes. There is a deceptive versatility gushing from Bleed’s emotive songwriting. Shoegazing atmospherics, throwback nü grooves, Deftones-powered dynamics, and hints of Helmet, early Incubus, and Failure coalesce into a crunchy, riff-centric slab of moody alt metal. Bleed possess the chunky modern elements and fresh vibes to transcend mere throwback values. Furnishing fat riffs and fatter grooves with soft-loud dynamics, where dreamy, glistening melodies, subdued verses, and mellow breaks intertwine with nü flavored heavy rock and angsty alternative metal. The formula largely works to reel in the target audience, delivering a collection of compact, infectious, hooky delights.

Showing their hand from the outset, the chunky opening riffs and turntable scratching of opener “Climbing Down” deliver a retro trip. Bolstered by punchy riffs crashing over moody textures and an ethereal melodic sheen, the song plays on the band’s strengths. These recurring factors create the signature dreamy feel permeating the album, as Bleed prove talented musicians with a knack for hooky songwriting and tightly synced performances. Bleed’s formula it not overly complicated or flashy, yet they nail execution, the engaging melodies and catchy riffs creating a soothing atmosphere comfortable to get lost in. Keeping their writing on a tight leash, Bleed rigidly remain true to their formula, imbuing each song with individual character and throwing down the occasional curveball. “Shallow” dabbles in more subdued, acoustic-driven waters, featuring a chilled, almost hypnotic, psychedelic cadence, rippling with interesting melodies. The heavier vocal turns add a welcome edge to earworm nuggets on lead singles “Marathon” and “Enjoy Your Stay” (featuring Static Dress). Elsewhere, the riffs do the heavier lifting, driving the likes of “Fixate” and “Killing Time,” setting the stage for the shifting dynamics and enveloping melodies to take hold.

“Through the Cylinder” is another solid showcase of what Bleed do well, threading engaging melodies through an escalating arrangement, culminating in heavier vox and a bruising breakdown. Over the course of the album, singer/guitarist Ryan Hughes offers up deceptively earwormy, emotive vocal hooks, though his airy style may present as ‘whiny’ to some listeners, potentially being a deal breaker. The heavier backing screams and barks sporadically cutting through the mix create a pleasing counterpoint, and extra grit in the vocal department would be a welcome addition. Nevertheless, his chilled, emotive style has its charms, especially when coupled with the band’s sturdy riff foundation and floating melodic currents. Hughes and fellow guitarist Noah Boyce drive Bleed’s richly textured sound, combining subtle motifs, shoegazing vibes and cool atmospheric licks, with a memorable range of killer riffs and extra chunky grooves.

Bleed’s self-titled debut is bound to cause a buzz in the metal and rock scenes, while proving a divisive experience for many. As an impressionable youngster when the new millennium rolled around, with one foot in the extreme metal sounds and the other exploring the trends of the times, Bleed’s fresh spin on a retro sound forms a nostalgic, transportive experience with enough tricks and character to ground things in the here and now. And despite its flaws, Bleed’s endearing charms, muscular riffs, contemplative shoegazing, and subtly addictive hooks prove difficult to shake.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: 20 Buck Spin
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 2nd, 2025

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