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

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

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

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

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

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Neverland shifts across a diverse range of moods through its runtime, never quite landing on a single tonal descriptor I might comfortably use to pigeonhole Neverland, which was surely the intention. It’s at times mysterious, brooding, and melancholic, and defiantly optimistic, musically manifesting in a variety of ways. There’s a strong emphasis on richly textured ambiance (“Weeping Stone,” “Horses of the Plough”), there’s a lot of glitchy industrial beats (“They’re Coming! The Birds!” and “Hark! Hark! The Dogs Do Bark!”), and the highlight comes in funky, percussive synthwave (“People of the Hills,” “Fire in the End”). It’s worth noting that apart from some spoken poetry in the opener, Neverland is, in practice, a fully instrumental affair. It’s easy to miss Kristoffer Rygg’s vocals, which were always a highlight of any Ulver record, but Neverland is specifically written in a way that wouldn’t work with vocals. Neverland effectively utilizes free-form compositions, eschewing a structure that would benefit from vocals and focusing on the strength and depth of the musicality.

To that end, Neverland is largely carried by its sound design and tight, snappy electronics. Umpteen albums in and Ulver have fine-tuned their electronic craftsmanship down to a science, keeping Neverland’s percussion straightforward and simple while swathing them in effects and ambiance. Neverland’s songs are generally catchy: the Moonlight Sonata-esque piano sequence that leads into the dramatic, glitchy crescendo of “Elephant Trunk” has stuck with me since my first listen, and “Hark! Hark! The Dogs Do Bark!”‘s bass-heavy beat never disappoints. “People of the Hills” is, for my money Neverland’s strongest song, and one of my new favorite Ulver songs. Staccato synths prelude a disco funk bass-line and grease-slick drums before some guitars drop a ludicrously tasty synthwave chord. It’s a goddamn banger, and like all of Neverland, sounds great, but the sound design is allowed to shine brightest in an ambient track like “Weeping Stone.” It starts with a comfortable rumble of brown noise before the keyboards arrive with grand washes of color and a moonlit melody.

Still, while the ambient tracks sound great, they begin to present an issue in Neverland’s latter half. The momentum constructed in Neverland’s first half falters at the ambient “Horses of the Plough” and “Quivers in the Marrow,” which are placed too closely together, with “Pandora’s Box” in between them. While I like the dreamy feel and slick bass line of “Pandora’s Box,” it begins to drag on repeat listens since the greater part of the song is a lot of build-up. Sometimes I feel that there’s an imbalance between Neverland’s ambiance and beat-driven side. Some of the more immediate tracks, including ones I like such as “They’re Coming! The Birds!” and “People of the Hills,” can feel shorter when I wish they were longer, being slightly padded on either end with ambiance or build-up, which in turn makes the standalone ambient tracks feel longer, inviting impatience for the next, more engaging track. The faltering momentum does frustrate, but I struggle to maintain much annoyance on account of the closer, “Fire in the End.” Tonally similar to “People of the Hills” but injecting a healthy dose of drama into the funk, it closes Neverland on a high note that always leaves me feeling satisfied.

Anyway, pacing quibbles aside, Neverland is all in all a success. It’s an easy album to throw on and just sink into thanks to stellar sound design, with tons of highlight beats that will stick with you. While it’s not a career-defining achievement for Ulver, it is another worthy shade to add to Ulver’s ever-growing sonic kaleidoscope, one I would recommend to any who’s ever enjoyed that distinct, melancholic Ulver flavor in the past.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: House of Mythology
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 31st, 2025

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Igorrr

Initially sole member Serre has been at this for twenty years, and the evolution of the sound from his early work with Whourkr and demos to now shows this range. The breakcore freakouts of Igorrr’s early albums Nostril and Hallelujah were pure sugar for the brain, the bizarre sounds and novelty the emphasis in their fusion of chaotic breakcore, trip-hop, baroque, death metal, and black metal. In this evolution, Amen feels like a meat-and-potatoes record, a gradual growth since the full band experience of 2017’s Savage Sinusoid that incorporates grandiosity, gravity, and insanity in ways only Igorrr can. The act recorded Amen with a full choir, spotlighting more well-rounded performances warped by otherworldly synths and abstract effects – reverberating with riffs at its core. It’s a reaffirmation of Serre’s genius/insanity and both a heaven of godly power and one hell of a good time.

For all its seriousness, Amen wouldn’t be an Igorrr record without some moments of absolute nonsense – and they’re dead center in the tracklist. While the instruments are immensely layered and it takes some serious ears and repeated listens to deconstruct the noise, some whacky moments swing in like a monkey in a pope hat to steal your banana split and rub its junk in your face. From the blackened blastbeats, classical choirs, and random piano plonks (“Headbutt”)¹ fist fights of death metal, surf rock, and oriental music (“Blastbeat Falafel”), straight-up short-form grind (“2020”), some off-key recorders atop death metal takedowns and breakcore glitching (“Mustard Mucous”), and random electronic farts morphing into wonky rhythms, classical overlays, and full-body assaults (“ADHD”), Igorrr as a full-band unit is committed to the insanity. Vocalists J.B. Le Bail (formerly of Svart Crown) and Marthe Alexandre offer death/black metal range and operatic/mournful drama respectively, while guitarist Martyn Clément (also of HAH) and drummer Remi Serafino (formerly of Ecr.Linf) add a vicious metallic bite that expertly balances silliness, groove, and even reverence. The revolving door of contributors, veterans from Soulfly, Anthrax, and Mr. Bungle, are equally bought into the schtick, making Amen feel surprisingly cohesive.

While hinted at in Spirituality and Distortion and Hallelujah, the liturgical and religious elements of Amen add a darker and more serious tone to and alongside Igorrr’s trademark. These tracks are enhanced by robust and haunting choral arrangements, strings, Arabic microtonal scales, and sharp complex percussion, although central motifs help immensely in establishing what to expect. Riffy death metal beatdowns warped by electronic effects (“Daemoni,” “Mustard Mucous”), haunting lilting vocals atop plodding beats (“Limbo,” “Ancient Sun”), and unhinged vocal attacks (“Infestis,” “Pure Disproportionate Black and White Nihilism”) add darkness and liturgy to the band’s sound. Ascending to the heavens with epic choirs and hinting at mystery with its more enigmatic melodic templates, one certainly unique approach that Igorrr employs is letting the baroque and classical elements breathe rather than Serre being quick to warp them or distort them with effects (highlight “Silence”). This makes the album feel much more organic and significant – nearly a meditation.

Amen is Igorrr firing on all cylinders in its full-band capacity. Death metal vocals, operatic laments, choirs, strings, metallic riffs, and manic drumming fed through the machine of Serre’s electronics has never felt so cohesive in its interpretation of religious and baroque viciousness. Yes, the silliest songs are smack-dab in the middle of the album in quick succession (aside from “Headbutt”), which can feel like a distraction from the more serious bookends, and Igorrr’s music can be alienating at its core. However, Amen is a reaffirmation of the project’s batshit and fun-loving genius as well as a new step forward: haunting, brutal, and otherworldly in a way that we can take seriously.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: igorrr.bandcamp.com | igorrr.com | facebook.com/IgorrrBarrroque
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025

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Mütterlein is a project of Overmars vocalist/bassist Marion Leclercq,¹ but the sound in comparison to Overmars is a spiritual successor only. The sludge is present in the density in much the same way Author & Punisher offers, in walls of electronic darkness, synthesized percussion, and trip-hop beats, while climactic moments of mammoth post-metal chugs crash through like a freight train. Always rooted in more ominous atmospheres recalling the resounding organ of its cover, third full-length Amidst the Flames, May Our Organs Resound offers an electronic trip to the shadows that feels grandiose and explosive where it ought to, but far too stripped down in others.

Mütterlein revolves its movements around a synthesized beat, resembling either a darkwave pulse that feels a tad like Perturbator or a thunderously precise snare that feels like an electronic interpretation of Isis, and its movements flow around and atop it. It’s a simple but effective structure, as largely these percussion movements carry across an entire song, while Leclercq’s atmospheric songwriting allows more metallic movements to mesh in a slurry with the synth-driven elements that combine into a haunting overture that recalls some of horror’s more cinematic moments. From a synth-centric version of Amenra in its diminished post-metal rhythms, leads, and call-and-response riffage (“Wounded Grace”) to the pulsing wave of density interwoven with angelic choirs atop trip-hop beats (“Concrete Black,” “Ivory Claws”), and guest appearances of Church of Ra’s Treha Sektori in sprawling dark ambient interludes (“Memorial One,” “Memorial Two”), Mütterlein has a formula that is effectively simple and simply crushing when it needs to be, although its more minimalist pieces drag on for far too long (“Anarcha,” “Division of Pain”).

Mütterlein places its claustrophobic sound design front and center, and like any good post-metal album, vocals are just another instrument in Amidst the Flames, May Our Organs Resound. It’s a bit of a shame, because Leclercq gives her most passionate and disconcerting vocal performance, relying on a drawling Audrey Sylvain (ex-Amesoeurs) post-punk groan (“Ivory Claws,” “Memorial Two”) and a rabid Kristin Michael Hayter (formerly Lingua Ignota) sermonic howl (“Memorial One,” “Division of Pain”). Too much of the music becomes monotonous and repetitive without enough of her vocals to keep up the vigor and energy, its pulse quickly dwindling to a flatline (“Division of Pain”), making the tracks that feature a switch-up at its midpoint highlights (“Wounded Grace,” “Ivory Claws”). The sound palette is nice when her vocals guide the horror, giving a climactic three-prong attack of vocals, electronic pulses, and overlaying leads, but when one of those crucial elements is removed, Mütterlein quickly loses its bite.

I miss Overmars, but Mütterlein offers a brand new sound that’s both densely crushing and darkly atmospheric, even if the sound is imperfect. Recalling the likes of Author & Punisher in swaths of punishing electronics, Amenra in its haunting melodic approach, and Lingua Ignota in the fury behind the mic, there’s a lot to like about Amidst the Flames. However, there’s a thin line between intrigue and monotony, and when the track goes too long or Leclercq removes her vocals, the result becomes painfully dull in its more stark passages. Feeling a tad long at a normally reasonable forty minutes, Mütterlein offers a mixed bag with triumphant highs and dull lows in Amidst the Flames, May Our Organs Resound.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: mutterlein.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/mutterlein
Releases Worldwide: May 9th, 2025

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In spite of its unmistakable filth that separates it from the likes of Lorna Shore, Worm Shepherd, or any of the other Deathcore Borgirs of the world, Denmark’s Cabal has a bit of a rollercoaster of a discography since 2018. Debut Mark of Rot was a simultaneously too-clean and too-dirty blend of down-tempo deathcore with blackened flourishes and a sterile djent guitar tone. 2020’s Drag Me Down amped the tempo with an unfuckwithable cutthroat quality that kept things fresh and brutal with spotlights of guests from Polaris, Møl, and Trivium. 2022’s Magno Interitus amped the tone with a lightless and mammoth foray into dark electronics that kept things interesting, although its more experimental pieces damaged its consistency. In this way, Everything Rots more seamlessly incorporates it into an over-the-top and absolutely relentless deathcore romp caked with Cabal’s suffocating trademark filth.

Like “Tongues” or “Demagogue” from Drag Me Down, Cabal manages to balance its absolutely crushing weight with a tasteful novelty in Everything Rots. While you’re guaranteed to be bludgeoned by breakdowns infused with the weight of Magno Interitus and pulverized by Andreas Bjulver’s husky roars, a heavier usage of blastbeats adds to the frenzy and the guest vocals add a dosage of well-placed freshness, not unlike Aborted’s latest. Injecting a hardcore call-out badassery (Viscera’s Jamie Graham in “No Peace;” Nasty’s Matthi Odysseus in “Unveiled”), rapid-fire groove (ten56.’s Aaron Matts in “Still Cursed”), and thick brutality (Aviana’s Joel Holmqvist in “Stuck;” Distant’s Alan Grnja in “Beneath Blackened Skies”). “Sort Sommer” (featuring hip-hop/punk duo Fabräk) has the same feel as “Blod af Mit” from Magno Interitus in its sudden embarrassment of nu-metal riches, but has been safely relegated to bonus track this time around. Cabal utilizes novelty as a reprieve to the relentless density that comprises its more straightforward pieces.

What’s consistently refreshing about Cabal is that their deathcore novelty is bolstered by a smart songwriting style that balances the meatheaded and the menacing. The best songs are those that are securely Cabal’s – in spite of the army of guests elsewhere – from the sweet placements of icy blackened chord progressions to mammoth breakdowns (“Everything Rots,” “Hell Hounds”). Compared to its predecessor, Everything Rots returns to what the band does best: being completely unhinged. It’s all about adrenaline-pumping intensity, pure gym-core, unshakeable groove populating its digestible tracks with a cold and intense melodic template (“Redemption Denied,” “End Times”). The electronic influence is far less jarring, adding a surreal pulse in addition to (instead of in replacement of) the deathcore intensity (“Forever Marked,” “Snake Tongues”).

Everything Rots will not sway your opinion on deathcore. It’s a meatheaded foray with enough chuggy breakdowns, brickwalled production, and vomitous vocals to kill an adult horse:¹ A faster Black Tongue perhaps or a more blackened Humanity’s Last Breath. But armed with a blackened filth and a vocalist who could pass as his own arsenal of guest vocalists, Cabal’s got a trademark sound and a great interpretation of it. It’s a return to form for a band known for its balance, thanks to a cutthroat intensity that recalls the grandiosity of Drag Me Down. Dwelling in hell-scraping tone worship and tempo ignorance only when it benefits its occult aims, Everything Rots is a suffocating listen, smartly designed with necessary reprieves, with a must more tasteful electronic presence. It’s a brutal blackened deathcore album without all the symphonic bullshit. Deathcore fans rejoice!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: cabalcph.bandcamp.com | cabalcult.com | facebook.com/@cabalcph
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

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Elements of earlier Mitochondrial Sun are certainly here. Songs like “To Those that Dared to Dream” and “The Fate of Animals” are moody, melancholy, or ominous. But it’s far sparser. Songs are very often a lead synth, a little rhythm or ambiance, and not much else. As an exploration of what you can achieve with nothing but a synthesizer and a knack for writing melodies, Machine Dialectics is quite impressive. Avoiding anything that might be described as even slightly dancy puts this in an unusual corner of electronic music. Working to constraints can produce interesting results, and that’s true here. At its best, the minimalism enhances the impact of the big melody lines when they happen, and Sundin really is an excellent songwriter.

As a title, Machine Dialectics suggests the experience of attempting to understand something a computer is doing and getting, well, largely inscrutable results. I am professionally deeply familiar with this feeling, and the record does as it portends. It wanders, and sometimes interesting things happen, but very often I’m still left scratching my head. I keep thinking – as this review grows later and later – that I’m on the cusp of getting it, but it hasn’t happened. I’m not getting the emotional impact I did from Mitochondrial Sun. There are long passages that only barely climb above ambient. The song construction is so sparse that the success of the entire album hinges on those moments when the melodic leads hit. They’re good, but they’re not quite good enough to carry the whole thing.

Despite that, I do enjoy listening to Machine Dialectics. On “The Fate of Animals,” melody and ambiance lines twist around each other, and the piece progresses from contemplative through ominous to a prettier, almost woodwind-like final movement. Closing track “The Child Sleeps in the Machine” is a bit longer than the others at 8 minutes, which gives it a bit more space to develop. “Trilobite Dreams” is the most immediate track, more urgent than the rest of the album, with a catchy, guitar-like melodic lead. But even here, the couple of different themes are all there really is to the track. I struggled to write much at all of note on some of the most ambient interludes (“Kepler-138 E,” Vast Expanses”).

I’ve regularly—and appropriately—reached for Machine Dialectics as a soundtrack when I’m working and need to think. As work music, it’s wormed its way into my head, and I find myself anticipating my favorite moments even when I don’t quite think I’m paying attention. But that lack of attention is a problem, and that makes it challenging to recommend. It’s slow and contemplative to a fault and there are few big payoffs. It ends with its questions left unanswered and me left largely unmoved.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Inertial Music
Websites: mitochondrialsun.bandcamp.com | mitochondrialsun.net | facebook.com/mitochondrialsun
Releases Worldwide: February 21st, 2025

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Never fear, the blog’s penchant for deep lateness punctuality persists! It is likely the new year already by the time you see this post, but we’re taking a step back. Way back, into October. I was deep in the shit then, and therefore couldn’t do anything blog-related. And yet, my minions, those very laborers for whom I provide absolutely no compensation whatsoever, toiled dutifully in the metallic dinge that is our Filter. Unforgiving though those environs undoubtedly are, they scraped and scoured until, at long last, small shards of precious ore glimmered to the surface.

These glimmers are the same which you witness before you. Some are big, some are small. Some are short, some are tall. But all are worthy. Behold!

Kenstrosity’s Belated Bombardments

Cosmic Putrefaction // Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains [October 4th, 2024 – Profound Lore Records]

I was originally slated to take over reviewing duties for Cosmic Putrefaction this year, as Thus Spoke had a prior commitment and needed a buddy to step in. Unfortunately, I was rendered useless by a force of nature for a while, so I had to let go of several items of interest. But I couldn’t let 2024 go by without saying something! Entitled Emeral Fires atop the Farewell Mountains, Cosmic Putrefaction’s fourth represents one of the smoothest, most ethereal interpretations of weird, dissonant death metal. The classic Cosmic Putrefaction riffsets under an auroric sky remain, as evidenced by ripping examples “[Entering the Vortex Temporum] – Pre-mortem Phosphenes” and “Swirling Madness, Supernal Ordeal,” but there lurks within a monstrous technical death metal creature who rabidly chases the atmospheric spirits of olde (“I Should Great the Inexorable Darkness,” “Eudaemonist Withdrawal”). While in lesser hands these distinct aesthetics would undoubtedly clash on a dissonant platform such as this, Cosmic Putrefaction’s particular application of sound and style coalesces in devastating beauty and relentless purpose (“Hallways Engraved in Aether,” “Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains”). Were it not for some instances wherein, for the first time ever, Cosmic Putrefaction threatens to self-plagiarize their own material (“Eudaemonist Withdrawal”), I would likely consider Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains for year-end list status.

Feral // To Usurp the Thrones [October 18th, 2024 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Another one of my charges that I unfortunately had to put down against my will, Swedish death metal fiends Feral’s fourth salvo To Usurp the Thrones deserves a spotlight here. Where Flesh for Funerals Eternal impressed me as my introduction to the band and, arguably, my introduction to modern buzzsaw Swedeath, To Usurp the Thrones impresses me as a singularly vicious record in the style. Faster, meaner, more varied, and longer than its predecessor, Thrones offers the punk-tinged, thrashy death riffs you know and love, with bluesy touches reminiscent of Entombed’s Wolverine Blues adding a bit of drunken swagger to the affair (“Vile Malediction,” “Phantoms of Iniquity,” “Into the Ashes of History”). Absolute rippers like “To Drain the World of Light,” “Deformed Mentality,” “Decimated,” and “Soaked in Blood” live up to the band’s moniker, rabid and relentless in their assault. In many ways, Thrones evokes the same bloodsoaked sense of fun that Helslave’s From the Sulphur Depths conjured, but it’s angrier, more unhinged (“Spirits Without Rest,” “Stripped of Flesh”). Consequently, Thrones stands out as one of the more fun records of its ilk to come out this year. Don’t miss it!

Sun Worship // Upon the Hills of Divination [October 31st, 2024 – Vendetta Records]

Back in 2020, our dear Roquentin offered some damn fine words of praise for Germany’s Sun Worship and their third blackened blade, Emanations of Desolation. It’s been six years since that record dropped, and Upon the Hills of Divination picks up right where Emanations left off. That is to say, absolutely slimy, post-metal-tinged riffs bolstered by dense layers of warm tremolos and mid-frequency roars. Opener “Within the Machine” offers a concrete encapsulation of what to expect: bits and pieces of Hulder, Gaerea, and Vorga melding together into a compelling concoction of hypnotic black metal. Using the long form to their utmost advantage, Sun Worship craft immersive soundscapes liable to scald the flesh just as quickly as they seduce the senses, leaving me as a brainwashed minion doing a twisted mystic’s bidding unconditionally (“Serpent Nebula,” “Covenant”). Yet, there roils a sense of urgency in these songs, despite many of them occupying a mid-paced cadence, which unveils a bleeding heart willingly wrenched from Sun Worship’s body (“Fractal Entity,” the title track, and “Stormbringer”). This is what sets it apart from its contemporaries, and what makes it worthy of mention. Why it’s gotten so little attention escapes me. It is with the intent of rectifying that condition that I pen this woefully insufficient segment.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Duty Free Rifftrocity

Extorted // Cognitive Dissonance [October 16th, 2024 – Self Release]

You don’t need to read this review to know that the Kiwis of Extorted plays pit-whipping death/thrash. Though not adorned with other obvious symbols, like Vietnam War paraphernalia or crushed beer cans, the Ed Repka-penned brain-ripped head figure screams “no thoughts only riff” all the same. With snares set to pow and crashes set to kshhh, Cognitive Dissonance finds low resistance to accelerating early Death-indebted refrains. Vocalist Joel Clark even plays as a dead ringer for pre-Human Schuldiner or Van Drunen (Asphyx, ex-Pestilence) as the torture in many lines grows (on “Infected” and “Ghastly Creatures” in particular). And in a continued tour of Van Drunen-associated sounds, Extorted’s ability to find a push-and-pull cadence that twists the fury of thrash with the cutting drag of death hits that hard-to-nail early Pestilence pocket with studied flair (“Deception,” “Limits of Reality”). Though a considerable amount of the Extorted identity rests in ideas borrowed and reinterpreted, a modern tonal canvas gives Cognitive Dissonance’s rhythms a punchy and balanced low-end weight that doesn’t always present itself in the world of old. Couple that with hooks that reach far beyond the limits of pure homage (“Transformation of Dreams,” “Violence”), and it’s easy to plow through the thirty minutes of tasteful harmonies, bending solos, and spit-stained lamentations that Extorted offers with their powerful debut.

Bríi // Camaradagem Póstuma [October 11th, 2024 – Self Release]

With Camaradagem Póstuma we enter the hazy, folky world of Caio Lemos’ unique vision of what experimental electronic music can be colored by the underpinnings of atmospheric black metal and jazz fusion. Using terraced melodies like baroque music of old and distant breakbeats like the Bong-Ra of recent yesteryears, Brazil’s Bríi represents one man’s highly specific melding that rarely occurs in this space. The guitar lines that do exist play out as textural, slow-developing passages. On tracks “Aparecidos” and “Baile Fantasma” this looping and hypnotic pattern shuffle resembles ambient Pat Metheny or King Crimson colors, the kind where finding the end of nylon pluck into a weaving, high-frequency synth patch feels not impossible but unnecessary. And on the more metallic side of things, Lemos cranks programmed blasts that carry his tortured, panning, and shrouded wails as a guide for the melodic evolution of each track, much in the same way a warping bass line would in a progressive house track. But maintaining the tempo of classic drum and bass, Camaradagem Póstuma wisps away in its atmosphere, coming back to a driving rhythm either via pummeling double kick or glitching break. Despite the hard, danceable pulse that tracks “Enlutados” and “Entre Mundos” boast, Bríi does not feel built for the kvlt klvbs of this world, leaning on a gated, lo-fi aesthetic that makes for an ideal drift away on closed cans, much like the equally idiosyncratic Wist album from earlier this year. And similarly, Camaradagem Póstuma sits in an outsider world of enjoyment. But if any of this sounds like your jam, prepare to get addicted to Bríi.

Thus Spoke’s Rotten Remnants

Livløs // The Crescent King [October 4th, 2024 – Noctum Productions]

Livløs are one of those bands that deserves far more recognition than they receive. With LP three, The Crescent King, they might finally see it. Their punchy intriguing infusion of Swedish and US melodic death metal—though the band themselves hail from Denmark—has a pleasing melancholia and satisfying bite. Here in particular, there’s more than a passing resemblance to Hath, to Cognizance, and to In Mourning. Stomping grooves (“Maelstrom,” “Usurpers”) slide in between blitzes of tripping gallops, and electrifying fretwork (“Orbit Weaver,” “Scourge of the Stars”). Mournful, compelling melodies woven into this technical tapestry—some highlights being the title track, “Harvest,” and “Endless Majesty”—turn already good melodeath into great melodeath; melodeath that’s majestic and powerful, without ever feeling overblown. With its relentless, groovy dynamism, the crisp, spacious production seals the deal for total immersion. If this is your first time hearing about Livløs, you’re in for a treat.

Sordide // Ainsi finit le jour [October 25th, 2024 – Les Acteurs de l’Ombre Productions]

And So Ends the Day, whilst another begins where I rediscover Sordide. I know not how I forgot their existence despite the impression that 2021’s Les Idées Blanches made upon me, yet all I could recall was the disturbingly simple, melty art.¹ Ainsi Finit le Jour arrives with a hefty dose (53 minutes no less) of punky, dissonant black metal that’s even rawer and more pissed-off than their usual fare. “Des feux plus forts,” “La poesie du caniveau,” and the title track stand out as the most vicious, near-first-wave cuts the trio have ever laid down, with manic, group wails, and chaotic, jangling percussion. But as is so often the case with Sordide, perhaps the truest brutality comes in the slower discordant crawls of “Sous Vivre,” “Tout est a la mort,” and the particularly unsettling “La beauté du desastre,” whose creeping, half-tuneful teasing and turns to eerie spaciousness get right under your skin. It is arguably a little too long for its own good, given its intensity, but its impressiveness does mean that, this time, Sordide won’t be forgotten.

Dear Hollow’s Droll Hashals

Annihilist // Reform [October 18th, 2024 – Self Release]

What Melbourne’s Annihilist does with flamboyant flare and reckless abandon is blur the lines of its core stylistic choices. One moment it’s chugging away like a deathcore band, the next it’s dripping away with a groove metal swagger, ope, now it’s on its way to Hot Topic. All we know is that all its members attack with a chameleonic intensity and otherworldly technicality that’s hard to pin down. An insane level of technicality is the thread that courses throughout the entirety of this debut, recalling Within the Ruins or The Human Abstract in its stuttering rhythms and flailing arpeggios. From catchy leads and punishing rhythms (“The Upsend,” “Guillotine”), bouncy breakdowns, clean choruses, and wild gang vocals (“Blood”), djenty guitar seizures (“Virus,” “Better Off”) to full-on groove (“N.M.E.,” “The Host”), the likes of Lamb of God, early Architects, Born of Osiris, and Children of Bodom are conjured. Lyrics of hardcore punk’s signature anarchy and societal distrust collide with an instrumental palette of melodeath and the more technical kin of metalcore and deathcore, groove metal, and hardcore. As such, the album is complicated, episodic, and unpredictable, with only its wild technicality connecting its fragmented bits – keeping Reform from achieving the greatness that the band is so capable of. As it stands, though, Annihilist offers an insanely fun, everchanging, and unhinged roller coaster of -core proportions – a roller -corester, if you will.

Under Alekhines Gun

Theurgy // Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence [October 17th, 2024 – New Standard Elite]

In a year where slam and brutal death have already had an atypically high-quality output, international outfit Theurgy have come with an RKO out of nowhere to shatter whatever remains of your cerebral cortex. Channeling the flamboyancy of old Analepsy with the snare abuse and neanderthalic glee of Epicardiectomy, Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence wastes no time severing vertebrae and reducing eardrums to paste. Don’t mistake this for a brainless, caveman assault, however. Peppered between the hammiest of hammers are tech flourishes pulled straight from Dingir era Rings of Saturn, adding an unexpected technical edge to the blunt force trauma. The production manages to pair these two disparaging elements with lethal efficiency. Is it the techiest slam album, or the wettest, greasiest tech album? Did I mention there’s a super moldy cover of Devourment’s “Molesting the Decapitated”? It slots right into the albums flow without feeling like a tacked-on bonus track, highlighting Theurgy’s commitment to the homicidal odes of brutality. Throw in a vocal performance that makes Angel Ochoa (Abominable Putridity) sound like Anders Fridén (In Flames), and you’re left with one last lethal assault to round out the year. Dive in and give your luminescence something to cry about.

GardensTale’s Great Glacier

Ghosts of Glaciers // Eternal [October 25th, 2024 – Translation Loss Records]

Ghosts of Glaciers’s last release, The Greatest Burden, was a masterclass of post-metal flow and has become a mainstay in my instrumental metal collection since my review in 2019. Dropping in tandem with several other high-profile releases, though, I could not give its follow-up the kind of attention it deserves. And make no mistake, it absolutely deserves that attention. The opening duo, “The Vast Expanse” and “Sunken Chamber,” measure up fully to The Greatest Burden, though it takes a few spins for that to become clear. Both use repetitive patterns more than before, but closer listens reveal how subtle variations and evolution of each cycle build gradual tension, so the release becomes all the more satisfying. I’m a little more ambivalent on the back half of Eternal, though. “Leviathan” packs a bigger punch than more of the band’s material, it lacks the swirling and sweeping currents that pull me under and demand full and uninterrupted plays every time. Closer “Regeneratio Aeterna” is a pretty but rather demure piece that lasts a bit longer than it should have. But despite these reservations, the great material outstrips the merely good, and Eternal is a worthwhile addition to any instrumental metal collection.

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What Dragonborn does is drags pop versions of metal, rock, electronic, and hip-hop kicking and screaming into an album entirely devoted to TikTok trends like the “Hoist the Colors” bass vocal covers, Ronnie Radke’s antics, sea shanties, and melodies ripped from classic songs. Jeris Johnson helms the craft with a very confused charisma, a grungy smoky tenor that tries to adapt to the clusterfuck of influences, forcing a square peg of Viking and fantasy imagery through the round holes of trap music, nu-metal, and hard rock. Insufferably bland at best and unbearably awful at worst, influences slamming across the universe with Falling in Reverse-esque abandon. Dragonborn is as bad as you can imagine, and often worse.

Let’s start with the good mediocre passable tolerable. “John” is a dad-rock anthem with a decently written chorus that worms its way into your brain whether you like it or not – conjuring the likes of Nickelback or Staind. Jeris’ cover of Seal’s “Kiss from a Rose,” while utterly unnecessary and only adding a weaker vocal performance to song’s legacy, is as okay as a pop/rock song you hear on the radio in the mid-2000s. Otherwise, Dragonborn’s strengths shine as brief glimmers of potential in isolated passages: the Korpiklaani-inspired plucking in the intro title track isn’t bad; the riffs of “When the Darkness Comes,” “Down with the Dynasty,” and “Not a Person (Freak)” have some weight at first. Johnson’s voice is also capable and has potential, even if he can’t seem to write a solid verse, chorus, or bridge to save his life.¹ So, uh, we’re in fucking trouble.

Perhaps the biggest and dumbest thing about Jeris Johnson is his ability to make an audio train wreck impossible to look away from. Interpolations are perhaps most jarring. “When the Darkness Comes” features a central melody stolen from the Arabian riff (aka “Streets of Cairo”) in an “I guess the minor key works if you’re into that” way, the central melody of “Siren Song” is unashamedly robbed from the fucking Christmas goddamn classic hymn “What Child is This?” for fuck sake and I never thought I would be checking that off of my 2024 bingo card. Meanwhile, “Story of Our Lives” tries to force electronic, trap, rap, and Tyr-esque medieval melodies into an orgy with no chemistry; “Welcome to Valhalla” feels like you wanted “Hoist the Colors” to be both a Wardruna cut and a trap metal song by Travis Scott; “Here’s to the Years” features an Alestorm-meets-Dropkick Murphys pirate vibe plus Irish shanty jig that makes me wanna puke; “Down with the Dynasty” is basically a metal cover of “Centuries” by Fall Out Boy without any fun or catchiness; “Not a Person (Freak)” features a We Butter the Bread with Butter-inspired shuddering deathcore breakdown that is only iterated fucking once; “Eat Drink War Repeat” is basically a Brokencyde song with all the soul-crushing cringe and likewise not knowing what sex is; “Ode to Metal” is just a rap/punk song that Ronnie Radke would start beef with someone over; and “Finish Line” is basically a Five Finger Death Punch power ballad. The independent nature of Dragonborn is also plain bad, as Jeris Johnson’s autotuned gaffs shine through “Story of Our Lives” and “When the Darkness Comes” with piercing clarity.

So what’s left? A singer/songwriter who has no idea what kind of album he actually wants. Is he a Viking king? A club-frequenting playboy? A hair-flipping fan of Falling in Reverse? Someone who would actually defend Ronnie Radke on Instagram? Someone who’s likes Shrezzers’ “PVRNHVB”? I’ll tell you who Jeris Johnson is: he’s an influencer on YouTube and TikTok. And Dragonborn is an experiment of the most embarrassing variety, but ultimately is not intended for us. I mean, if you’re into unnecessary variety and TikTok trends, have at it. I need to sit down.

Rating: 0.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Self-Released
Websites: jerisjohnson.com | facebook.com/killjerisjohnson | tiktok.com/@jerisjohnson
Releases Worldwide: August 23rd, 2024

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Sometimes your words come back to haunt you, and often sooner than you realize. Kind of like when you ask whether something can go wrong in a given situation. Or when you lambast a one-hundred twenty-four album of unearned epic proportions but end up falling deeply in love with a one-hundred forty-five-minute experimental electronic album that showcases a career’s worth of ideas and a lifetime’s worth of heartache. But I already knew that I was in love with World’s End Girlfriend before I hit play, that’s the way insanity works. And the more I listen to Resistance, the less I feel that any of it is out of place.

True to the nature of a work that looks back at an artist’s past as much as toward the future, long-time enjoyers of WEG will find little details that earmark already striking moments with a stronger sense of purpose. Opening on “unPrologue Birthday Resistance” plays on this most directly by taking a familiar piece from Hurtbreak Wonderland (“Birthday Resistance”) and fizzling it with scratchy obstructions and hard skips, as if a broken cycle threatens to turn again. And in closing it does, with the same melody picking back up, giving way to an ominous sample of a child’s birthday song, and then instead of fizzling out in wild guitar feedback like the Hurtbreak original, “unEpilogue JUBILEE” tumbles up a rising synth clamor that breaks away to what sounds like a heartbeat, amplified and cut away for a short and sweet goodbye message. Songs like “MEGURI” and “RENDERING THE TWO SOULS,”¹ originally lacked context as statements of unwanted departure and frantic longing, but in their new respective positions (and with slight re-workings) can give movement to the fragments of emotion that surround them.

Despite the other nature of an album of this magnitude—it’s significant length—each movement of this piece has a powerful and entertaining identity. If you’ve a taste for the whimsy and naiveté of bright love, the initial swing up to “IN THE NAME OF LOVE” will waltz you between triumph and smile alike. If your dreams place you in a world inhabited by vocaloid choirs and reimagining the Edward Scissorhands ice dance in a tunnel of neon lights, the one-two flaying of “Reincarnation No.9”² and “RENDERING THE TWO SOULS” will twirl you a fanciful landscape. “Blue/0/ +9” might be the best R&B ballad I’ve heard in ages, complete with a tasteful Isley Brothers-kissed, fuzz-filled solo wail. The “Black Box” duo, featuring Japanese footwork specialist CRZKNY, shakes the floor in a way that only hellish EBM can. And, if you make it this far, the final movement from the delicate “himitsu” through the dutiful but frightening rendition of “Ave Maria” leading up to “SEE YOU AGAIN” may cause a tear or twenty to drip from your weary and wondering eyes.

It’s entirely possible that Resistance & The Blessing is a masterpiece. It’s equally possible that it didn’t have to be this much all at once. However, when the heart bleeds with this kind of passion, the only proper reflection rests in staring at the sanguine pool and letting it be what it is. We only know snippets of what has occurred throughout World’s End Girlfriend’s life to release an album full of so much pain, catharsis, hope, and adoration. If Katsuhiko Maeda, the man behind the mask, could ever sit down and explain what each moment means to him, I’m sure words wouldn’t be enough. I’ll be listening to this one for a long time to see if I can get even that close.

Tracks to Check Out: Haha… All of them?³

The post World’s End Girlfriend – Resistance & The Blessing [Things You Might Have Missed 2023] appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Look, I’m one of like three metalcore apologists at Angry Metal Guy HQ,¹ and I’ve had it up to here. No more sticky noted car, printer wrapped in festive holiday paper, or the squirting flower trick, okay guys? Plus the rubber rat with “BREAKDOWNS” scrawled with Sharpie was going too far. I already get my seven daily lashes from the Most Holy Gorilla when the punishment of metalcore promos seemed insufficient. As we approach the holidays, the last thing I want to do at the office Christmas party is to open my bonus addressed to “sellout.” Don’t even fucking think about it. And Jesus, Tariot sure ain’t helping my reputation. As such, I’m writing this review hunched over the keyboard like a monk in deep meditation to prove to the higher-ups that I’m working on some doom record or blackened prog album. As you may have guessed, Singapore five-piece Tariot is metalcore, featuring frantic fry vocals, noodly guitar fills, and breakdowns. Shit, hi Holdeneye, just working on that latest dissodeath review haha. No, no delays, and no -core influence. Of course all my reviews are always on time! Anyway, Drag Me to Hell is tough-guy metalcore through and through with some touches of post-hardcore, electronic, and nu-metal – like if August Burns Red, Cane Hill, and Our Last Night had a child. Look, I don’t like it any more than you do, would you quit that dry heaving? Go to the bathroom if you need to. Drag Me to Hell is an album with its moments but thanks to its confused structure, weak pieces, and excessive length, I’m comfortable keeping Tariot on the down-low.

Hey Maddog! No, I’m not trying to find the good in metalcore – ’tis foolhardy! Oh hi Doom_et_Al, found a new melodic black metal album to give 4.0? Nice. Anyway, Tariot actually features a few moments of excitement across its forty-two-minute runtime, even if the best feels like a knockoff Crystal Lake. While graced with wild guitar licks throughout, the best tracks balance the typical nimble riffs with densely crushing punishment. “Obsidian,” “Hell Hole,” and the previously released single “The Devil Inside Me” bring bottom-scraping heavy breakdowns to the song climaxes, which balance neatly with the fretboard wizardry and more urgent and aggressive tempos. Former Novelists vocalist Tobias Rische brings a much-needed grounding to “Alas,” while the vocals of Fairuz Ramlan add heat alongside one of the best riffs of the album in “Grave Future.” Used sparingly, nu-metal adds a tasteful intensity that nearly flies off the rails in tracks like “Alas” and “Hell Hole,” recalling acts like recent MouthBreather and early Darke Complex. The second half is the clear winner, with more infectious energy coursing through it. Oh hey Thus Spoke, haha, yeah metalcore sucks haha.²

The problem with Tariot’s Drag Me to Hell is twofold: there are weak songs present and those that are solid sound too much like previously established metalcore fare. Most damningly, the cleans that pervade always waver on the edge of out-of-tune, most painfully present in the aptly titled “Rain On My Parade,” “Eternal War,” and “Life of Nothing” which derail any energy with either post-hardcore- or grunge-influenced mediocrity that teeters into bad territory often. While not entirely detrimental, it leaves a bitter taste in solid tracks like “The Devil Inside Me” or “Lament,” which come unnervingly close to ruin. The nu-metal effect gets too much, especially in tracks like “Metamorph,” whose awkward gang vocals and mismatched climaxes worsen it, and “Hell Hole,” whose rap-influenced closing portions do not fit. Even some less problematic tracks like intro “Death by Seven” and “Eve” pale in comparison to their surrounding highlights (or nadirs) by sheer lack of memorability. However, even Tariot’s best still conjures the spirit of Crystal Lake’s “Prometheus” but missing the necessary charisma.

Ultimately, while the second half of Drag Me to Hell amps the intensity after a painful first half derailed by haphazard cleans and awkward nu-metal influence, but it feels largely like Tariot’s touchdowns in garbage time throughout a deceptively long forty-two-minute runtime; by the time “The Devil Inside Me” hits, the attention span would understandably be run thin. Tariot’s highlights are already mimicry at best with speedy riffs, thuggish breakdowns, and barked vocals, but given a horrendously inconsistent tracklist, it is difficult to recommend Drag Me to Hell for even most metalcore fans. So I guess maybe the sticky noted car was deserved.³

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 160 kbps mp3
Label: Out of Line Music
Websites: tariot.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/tariotsg
Releases Worldwide: November 24th, 2023

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