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

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

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

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

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

The post Desert Storm – Buried Under the Weight of Reason Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The Beauty of Obliteration demonstrates some mighty fine riff-smithing. This may be because Sleeping Giant—expanding upon the maxim that ‘two heads are better than one’—is working with three heads. The guitar Cerberus of Finnbogi Jökull, Árni Björn Björnsson, and Guðmundur Eiríksson wield an arsenal of doomy dirges (“Conqueror”), stonery shuffles (“Abysmal Flame”), and thrashy assaults (“Venom Ripper, Gorgon Blaster”). Some of these riffs even go straight to the source, boasting a Sabbathy swagger (“The Monk”). Early Mastodon certainly resonates throughout, but the guitarwork makes it clear that these Icelanders also get High on Fire. Indeed, the recurring shifts between stoner-doom and thrash, coupled with the beefy guitar tones, summon the presence of latter-day Matt Pike. But Sleeping Giant aren’t just their three-headed guitar monster; drummer Ásmundur Jóhannsson and bassist Einar Darri Einarsson hold down the low end. Einarsson in particular shines, tastefully filling up negative space with bluesy runs (“Conqueror”).

Rounding out Sleeping Giant’s lineup is vocalist Oddur Freyr Þorsteinsson, who gives The Beauty of Obliteration a death metal edge. Thusly calling the band death-doom, though, wouldn’t be accurate—’necrotic stoner-doom’ is my best attempt at describing the band’s layering of an extreme aesthetic over a mostly traditional riffing style. Þorsteinsson possesses a powerful guttural, reminding me of the low registers of Travis Ryan and Randy Blythe. He even dips into some slimy gurgling on “The Monk” as it shifts into a faster, more melodic gear. Though these gurgles provide contrast, it’s a contrast that doesn’t necessarily add to or accentuate the part. This gurgling is a microcosm of how I feel about the vocals on The Beauty of Obliteration as a whole. They are performed well and don’t overtly clash with the instrumentation, and yet I’m not sure if they are doing anything other than marking Sleeping Giant as ‘extreme.’

As a unit, Sleeping Giant have molded a debut that roves between riff styles, for better or worse. “Conqueror” and “Mobilizer of Evil” map out the terrain the rest of the album explores, showing a band comfortable with both low and high BPMs. “The Monk” gets closest to the kind of unhinged glory of early Mastodon, though its shift from doom to thrash feels a bit redundant, even at this early juncture in the album. The biggest curveball on The Beauty of Obliteration is its penultimate track, “Venom Rippers, Gorgon Blaster.” A thrash ripper under three minutes, it’s an enlivening change of pace from tracks that otherwise hover between four and nine minutes. It’s also an effective transition between the orgiastic riff-fest of “Slay the King of Hell” (my favorite track) and the closer. “Abysmal Flame” starts strong with a chunky monkey that morphs into an almost melodeath-style earworm. The sparse, feedbacky ending, however, is an underwhelming sendoff.

Their namesake may create unrealistic expectations, but Sleeping Giant has delivered the goods with their long-awaited debut. At 6 tracks in 35 minutes, The Beauty of Obliteration is a tight, well-produced package with tons of hummable riffs. Though the songwriting is by no means bad, the riffs themselves feel more noteworthy than the songs they populate. The gutturals give Sleeping Giant a different vibe than typical stoner-doom, but I hope that future outings see the vocals actively serving the songs more. If you dig giant riffs, you won’t want to sleep on these Icelanders.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V4 OR ~316 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Octopus Rising (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

The post Sleeping Giant – The Beauty of Obliteration Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Among the myriad sub-genres influencing Remorse of Conscience, Agenbite Misery’s bread and butter is a complementary fusion of sludge and black metal. Songs like “Bellwether and Swine” and “Mnesterophonia” swing between second-wave blackened intensity and a washing of Acid Bath grime, while “Telemachean Echoes” wrecks house through hardcore-flexing sludge brutality and “Circe” bestows an atmospheric dreariness similar to Hexrot. This works: Agenbite Misery’s sludge influence adds weight to their blackened riffing while their black metal influence helps keep their sludge from plodding too long. Elsewhere, Agenbite Misery throw their weight around in “Cascara Sagrada” with Portalesque disso-death depravity, engage in melancholic electronic atmospherics on “The Twice-Charred Paths of Musing Disciples” and get downright danceable Crippling Alcoholism-style on the post-rock, synth-heavy “Whatness of Allhorse,” which sounds like something Blade would kill a roomful of vampires to. Remorse of Conscience rarely sits still, and with Agenbite Misery’s expert songwriting everything they try comes together cohesively.

Balance is the key to Agenbite Misery and Remorse of Conscience’s success. Every song is crafted with superb dynamism, whether it be in “Circe”‘s shifting speeds, “Mnesterophonia”‘s oscillating sense of airiness and crushing oppression or “Whatness of Allhorse”‘s gradual escalation of heaviness. Vocally, Agenbite Misery mix it up between the three bandmates with shrieks, roars, squeals (“Bellwether and Swine”), barks (“Telemachean Echoes”) and (competently performed!) spoken-word passages (“A Charitable View of Temporary Sanity,” “Whatness of Allhorse”), suiting whatever mood the songs demand. The pinnacle of Remorse of Conscience’s balancing act is “A Charitable View of Temporary Sanity,” which across its over-thirteen-minute runtime swings from thoughtful, quiet bass arpeggios against sparse guitar notes to titanic doom riffs, from funeral dirge tempos to double-time death marches. Sometimes quietly disturbing, sometimes manically depressive, variety in style and approach keeps Remorse of Conscience from ever being boring.

Remorse of Conscience remains compelling through its entirety because of Agenbite Misery’s greatest balancing act: blending immediacy within slow-burn constructions. Despite the thematic density derived from its source material, Remorse of Conscience opens with a simple rager in “Telemachean Echoes” and loads “Whatness of Allhorse” and “Circe” with hooky synth and guitar leads respectively, affording the album casual listening appeal. Then there are Agenbite Misery’s epics in “A Charitable View of Temporary Sanity” and “Mnesterophonia,” which eschew conventional song structure for slow, Isis-like post-metal waves and sludgy, noise-rock menace, easy to become lost in as a listener. Both modes keep the pacing of Remorse of Conscience fresh, and the mix of short songs (“Telemachean Echoes,” “The Twice-Charred Paths of Musing Disciples”) with longform ones further dispels any threat of monotony creeping in. Both song-wise and album-wide, Remorse of Conscience is not only a rich, thoughtful exploration of guilt and turmoil but a really, really fun record, too.

“What if it sucks?” What if, indeed. Having spent so much time with this record, my old concern of winding up disliking Remorse of Conscience was replaced with the new anxiety over whether I’d gas up Agenbite Misery and Sam too much and come off as committing inter-AMG favoritism. To combat that fear: “Whatness of Allhorse” and “Mnesterophonia” get a bit long in the tooth,³ “Bellwether and Swine” ends a bit anticlimactically and the drum kicks and snares could be much punchier overall. But this is water under the bridge for a great album defined by adventurous songcraft and deep atmospheres. Even if you’ve never read a word of Joyce’s Ulysses, Agenbite Misery and Remorse of Conscience is worth the effort. It’s a lot easier to finish than Ulysses, at the very least.

Rating: Great⁴
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Independent
Websites: agenbitemisery.com | agenbitemisery.bandcamp.com | ampwall.com/a/agenbitemisery
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

The post Agenbite Misery – Remorse of Conscience Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Tarlung remains devoted to the almighty riff, but with a sound that has become increasingly less fuzzy over the years. Guitarists Rotten and Phillip Seiler deliver massive doses of ear-drum damage via swampy, thick riffs bristling with taut, chuggy muscle (“State Noise,” “Between the Earth and Moon”) and bluesy swagger (“Swans”), which serve as the bong water for most of these melodies to bubble up through. Seiler’s chesty, Akerfeldtian roars are ever-present, which, along with Marian Weibl’s beastly drum beatings, provide the excess sonic weight Tarlung has become increasingly known for. Purveyors of Crowbar, High on Fire, and Dopethrone will find warm pockets of familiarity here. Yet, Axis Mundi indeed signals a progression as Tarlung evolves its sound, introducing elements of refined psychedelia and vocal variation.

Axis Mundi takes marked steps to set itself apart from the rest of Tarlung’s catalog. With an airy, soft-strummed melody and some subdued, clean vocals to start, “Burning Out” evokes a feeling akin to lying alone in a country field, exhaling smoky clouds of organic green and staring at kaleidoscopic prisms of light as they filter through dew drops on sun-dappled daffodils. Even after the track picks up a little steam with a chugging riff that seems to build more speed than it does, and Seiler’s growls return, the warm feeling doesn’t dissipate. Follow-up “Sea of Drowned Souls” continues down an experimental path, as its mournful melodies merge with clean vocals from Thérèse Lanz and Casey Rogers of Mares of Thrace in pensive passages that keep giving me Alice in Chains vibes. Particularly effective here, too, is the vocal interplay between Seiler and Lantz as each takes brutal swipes at the mic; Lantz’s visceral, blackened screams serving as a satisfying counterpoint to Seiler’s guttural grumblings. These two tracks really stood out to me and make up the core of my overall Axis Mundi experience.

Axis Mundi represents Tarlung operating at its most mature. Beautifully simplistic and wildly effective songwriting that, with repeated spins, did nothing but chip away at my critiques. What first seemed like a lagging back half continued to sink its claws into my brain. Before long, I was looking forward to the laid-back melodies of “Full Circle,” where Seiler channels his inner Matt Pike (High on Fire) to significant effect, and anticipating the very Crowbaric pounding of album closer “Axis Mundi.” Running just thirty-eight minutes, it became easier and easier to hit that replay button every time. There are moments when the melodies seem to trip over themselves, like on the bluesy main riff of “Swans,” which gets a bit muddy at times, but not so much that it took me out of the experience.

Fans of Tarlung are in for a special surprise, and if you’re just now getting to the party, Axis Mundi is an excellent place to get started. I hadn’t spent any time at all with this power trio before writing this review, and I can wholeheartedly say Tarlung has won me over. After a more than cursory dive into the bands previous efforts I can say without a doubt, Axis Mundi is the best Tarlung album to date. A slow-paced ride that delivers riffs for days and melodies that settle in, wrapping you in blankets of crushing warmth for one helluva satisfying experience.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

The post Tarlung – Axis Mundi Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

In the first half of What Happened In Roundwood, Under establishes their own distinct style that sits nicely in conversation with their American contemporaries. The foundations of these songs are built on angular sludge riffs over looping odd time signatures and off-kilter rhythmic patterns, like if a more avant-garde Melvins crashed into a version of Swans that was capable of editing. Bassist and vocalist Matt Franklin anchors the music with simple but weighty low-end riffs, locking tightly with drummer Andy Preece’s commanding, hypnotic grooves. Guitarist Simon Mayo fills in the gaps with jagged riffs and layers of dissonant, skronk-heavy leads. Franklin lends a sneering, British rasp to the endeavor, guiding the songs with an impassioned vocal performance that successfully conveys the aural depravity on display. This formula is deepened with the addition of menacing choral vocals and harmonies (“Ma,” “The Alchemist”), swirling guitar cacophonies (“Tantrum), and even Primitive Man-tinged, slow noise bursts (“Isaac”). It’s an effective and thoroughly unsettling display with just enough variety in its execution to keep things exciting until the B-side obliterates any sense of normalcy.

In the second half of What Happens In Roundwood, Under undergo a dramatic sonic shift, and the results are thrilling. The final stretch of the album leans heavily into exploratory, avant-garde jazz-influenced territory, with the tracks flowing seamlessly into one another like a three-part suite. These songs stand out as the album’s clear highlights. The sequence begins with “Rings,” which unfolds in a state of subdued horror, slowly building tension through sparse instrumentation before reaching a blissful climax. This transitions smoothly into “Roots and Limbs,” a jazzy, post-hardcore-like track that increases the tempo and intensity, providing a sense of release after several slower songs. All of this builds toward the closer, “Felling.” The final track plays out like a fever dream, reprising key moments from earlier in the album and reshaping them into a chaotic haze of noise. When the music finally collapses into rich choral vocals, it feels like the calm at the center of a storm. A perfect ending to a bold and striking second half.

This places What Happens in Roundwood in a peculiar position. The second half of the record explores markedly different sonic territory than the first, and is stronger for it. Under’s more standard sound, showcased on the first five tracks, is engaging, but compared to the highs of the final three, it falls a little short. Repeated listens leave me wanting just a bit more grit or memorability in the more straightforward sludge riffcraft before it gives way to the more exploratory material. I appreciate the band’s efforts to vary their noise-rock/sludge approach through vocal layers/embellishments or a Southern tinge (“Escape Roundwood”), but I find myself largely whelmed by the opening salvo. This isn’t a major mark against the record; the album is solid throughout. Still, it keeps the work from standing quite as tall alongside some of my favorites in the style.

With What Happens In Roundwood, Under have delivered a solid sludgy noise rock record with plenty of autre appeal. I wish the impressive oddity were distributed a bit more evenly throughout the album’s runtime, but it’s still an enjoyable listen that carves out its own unique niche within the broader style. The next time the UK group revisits their brand of sinister sludge, I’ll be excited to listen.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: APF Records
Websites: understockport.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/understockport
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

The post Under – What Happened In Roundwood Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

While the premise of a 48-minute funeral doom song brings to mind other ambitious projects from Bell Witch and Oak, Doubtsower’s The Past Melts Away with a Sneer turns out to be one weird beast. Doubtsower isn’t exactly a funeral doom band, but an experimental doom band. Strangis keeps his one song’s tempo slow—funeral doom slow—yet it has much more in common with the avant-garde music of John Cage than My Dying Bride or Esoteric. It makes use of syncopated riffs that cut short and disorient listeners, as well as some unusual noises, such as static scratches and the clicking and rattling of ratchets. “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” also makes use of silences, though they’re not as lengthy as “4’33,” largely as a transitional tool. This use of odd sounds, silent moments, and suspenseful repetitions of short riffs creates an unsettling mood early on, and with the mix of sludge, I couldn’t help but think of experimental sludge/horror/doom outfit When the Deadbolt Breaks.

Over the course of its 48 minutes, The Past Melts Away with a Sneer is an ever-shifting amalgamation of styles, an amorphic blob that somehow holds everything together as a cohesive whole. Sounds often shift minute-by-minute despite the glacial pacing. While the early goings have the John Cage thing going, at the 8-minute mark, the track breaks out into the one segment that sounds like traditional funeral doom, with plodding drum beats, crushing guitars, and a low, harsh growl. Yet just as you think this is the direction it’s going, the song goes silent and then shifts into a new form. The extensive use of silence and light droning makes the sudden bursts of energy peppered throughout all the more striking. About 20 minutes in, “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” morphs into industrial dance, snapping you awake and commanding your body to move. The song morphs yet again, this time into something hopeful and poppy, with light, Weezer-like strums. However, even this segment doesn’t last long, and somehow Strangis is able to convince us that these disparate sounds all form one coherent tune.

It’s pretty impressive how “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” is able to remain engaging for its entire run, but some moments of repetition do derail portions of the track. This is most egregious at 29 minutes as Doubtsower transitions into a lengthy portion of sludge/doom. Throughout this approximately eight-minute segment, there’s a consistent, repetitive riff that grows tiresome over time. Still, the song rights itself for the finale with the return of a catchy piano/synth melody from the beginning. As this melody begins to fade into silence and lulls you into a sense of closure, the track gains a second wind and hurls forth an energetic set of industrial riffs and blast beats. There’s an unpredictability that catches you off guard and keeps the record fresh.

If the album I described above sounds like a nightmare, that’s the whole point. It’s meant to be a “disorienting descent into a nihilistic free-for-all,” and Strangis succeeds in making that vision come to fruition. It may not always be easy listening, but it’s rarely boring. Having spent some time with the prior Doubtsower records, this one stands out as Strangis’s most engaging and best-written. The Past Melts Away with a Sneer has caused me to question my usually negative relationship with experimental metal. It has left me feeling disoriented, but in a good way, and it’s an experience that I recommend for the curious and lovers of the weird.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

The post Doubtsower – The Past Melts Away with a Sneer Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

At last, a burst of cool calms the blood after a brutal summer, and the leaves are turning. Which means I was able to recruit a bunch of grubby little leaf-lookers off the highway to serve as minions to my ever-needy Filter! With a temporarily replenished staff of fools who are unwittingly risking their lives for mere nuggets, I conduct with renewed vigor the search for quality finds.

Today, I bring you those finds, in all of their sparkly glory. WITNESS THEM!

Kenstrosity’s Jaunty Juke

Jordsjuk // Naglet til livet [September 19th, 2025 – Indie Recordings]

The lack of conversation I’ve seen surrounding this Norwegian black metal riff machine is highly disconcerting. Brought to my attention by my wonderfully wise—and devilshly handsome—owlpal¹ from… GASP… another blog, Jordsjuk’s debut LP Naglet til livet has my spine whipping to a fro from the onset of ripping opener “Kollaps.” The whiplash doesn’t stop there as thrashy numbers “Grovt skadeverk” and “Skreddersøm” body me against several walls and even a couple of ceilings. For 36 relentless minutes, with only one song pushing the four minute mark, Naglet til livet is an unqualified triumph of editing and tight, effective songwriting. My immediate comparison is 2007-2013 Skeletonwitch, but some of these riffs, like the turbobangers on “Parasitt,” “Rottebitt,” “Klarhet og dybde,” and “Rennestein,” give those hallowed skellybois a serious run for their money. When they aren’t thrashing, Jordsjuk shift into a dour, but still ravenous black metal shadow. Wraiths like “Riv skorpen av såret” and “Svikter din neste” showcase this looming character quite well, and prove Jordsjuk to be dynamic, versatile songwriters. In short, Naglet til livet is a raucous good time for anyone craving black metal with sharp teeth and limitless energy.

Baguette’s Bouncy Blessing

Arjen Anthony Lucassen // Songs No One Will Hear [September 12th, 2025 – Inside Out Music]

A year without an Arjen record would be a much lesser one. It’s not often the crazy Dutchman reuses a non-Ayreon project title, but here we have his fourth solo album becoming the second under the full Arjen Anthony Lucassen name! Dropping 13 years after the previous one, Songs No One Will Hear announces the end of the world is a mere five months away, its tracks depicting the resulting stages of chaos, disarray, and human silliness. It doesn’t fall far off the catchy and melodic Arjen tree but casts a wider net than prior prog rock adventures. Much of the record reflects different eras of Ayreon, including the ’70s prog whimsy of Into the Electric Castle (“Dr. Slumber’s Blue Bus”) and the fun ’80s metal edge of The Source (“Goddamn Conspiracy”). Closing epic “Our Final Song” is a microcosm of his musical breadth, shapeshifting from Jethro Tull flute shenanigans to analog synth ambience to dramatic riff bombast at will. But it’s “The Clock Ticks Down” that steals the spotlight, marking a brief return to the dark, somber grit of Guilt Machine and 01011001. It’s an unusually normal-sized album from Mr. Lucassen as well, the regular, unnarrated version being only 46 minutes and change. A condensed, jovial jack-of-all-trades showcase with many of the usual great guest musician and vocalist selections! And it’s always nice to hear him sing more, too.

Thus Spoke’s Lurid Leftovers

Fauna // Ochre and Ash [September 26th, 2025 – Lupus Lounge/Prophecy Productions]

It’s been 13 years since Cascadian black metal duo Fauna released Avifauna, to quiet yet great acclaim. Given their preoccupation with human prehistory, they might just be operating on a larger timescale than you or I. Ochre and Ash—the two main ingredients used in ancient cave paintings—is an attempt to invoke the spirit of forgotten ceremonies during which the stories of the people were immortalised on stone. Building on an atmospheric black metal base familiar in their better-known exemplars Wolves in the Throne Room and Agalloch, Fauna give Ochre and Ash a distinctive edge by roaming further afield into the experimental. For every metal-dominated track (“Nature & Madness,” “Labyrinths,” “Eternal Return”), there is an ambient, decidedly unsettling counterpart (“A Conjuring,” “Femoral Sun,” “Mockery”), and the latter are not interludes, but integral parts of the ritual. Each infuses skin-prickling drone with eerie chimes and rattles, and uncomfortable vocalisations ranging from moans and wails to laughter and the howling, yipping cries of animals—or humans mimicking them. In their repetition of haunting, hollow sounds, they are both frightening and trance-inducing. Ochre and Ash’s metallic segments are no less ominous, treading as they do between confrontationally turbulent atmoblack² and diSEMBOWELMENT-adjacent death doom that puts me right back in the void of madness last year’s Spectral Voice generated. This is not a casual listen, and Fauna could have helped it a bit with some editing, as the weirdness combined with an excessive 70-minute runtime makes some longer passages feel tired and could be off-putting to some. Still, it’s an experience I’d recommend trying at least once.

Spicie Forrest’s Sautéed Surplus

Piece // Rambler’s Axe [September 5th, 2025 – This Charming Man Records]

Finding gym metal has always proven difficult for me. It’s not about the fastest or loudest, but about striking a balance between weight and pace. Rambler’s Axe fits the bill nicely. Influenced by the likes of Crowbar and High on Fire, these Berlin-based doomsters peddle raucous and sludgy heavy metal. There’s a bit of Conan in Piece’s DNA, too, making sure to worship each riff long enough for you to make it through any given set. Beefy basslines and aggressive, chiseled drums make it easy to drop into a groove and get your pump on. Faster cuts like “Demigod” and “Rambler’s Axe” go great with chest flies and leg press, but they’ve got tracks for bench press and deadlifts too. “Bastard Sword” and “Owl Eyes” rumble forward like the slow but inevitable rise of the barbell at max weight. Whether marching or running, baritone shouts like tank treads hang over riffs just looking for an excuse to blow off steam. Whatever your reason for visiting the glorious house of gains, Piece has your soundtrack covered.

Heruvim // Mercator [September 12th, 2025 – Self-Release]

As each passing year leaves the almighty Bolt Thrower further in the past, the yearning for that sound grows. I was quite surprised to find a small amount of solace in Heruvim, hailing from Odesa, Ukraine. I say small solace, because debut LP Mercator is more than just a clone. Augmented with the unsettling atmosphere of early Pestilence and the vocal malevolence of Sinister, this platter of old school death metal carves its own niche in a storied scene. Off-kilter leads bubble up and spew out of a murky, tarred rhythm section like prehistoric gases in a primordial soup (“Gnosis,” “Lacrimae Rerum”). Lachrymose, doom-laden passages and violent death threats trade back and forth, anchored by volatile blast beats and percussive assaults in the vein of Cannibal Corpse (“Nulla Res,” “Mercator”). Stitched together with eerie, short-and-sweet interludes, Mercator’s lean 30 minutes fly by and always leave me itching for more. Heruvim riffs on a slew of classic sounds, creating a casual brutality and primal barbarism that is both compelling and uniquely their own.

ClarkKent’s Melodic Monstrosities

Galundo Tenvulance // Insomnis Somnia [September 17th, 2025 – Spiritual Beast Records]

Falling somewhere between symphonic deathcore acts Assemble the Chariots and Grimnis enters Japan’s Galundo Tenvulance. On their second full-length LP, Insomnis Somnia, the sextet demonstrates raw power and frenetic energy throughout its 41-minute runtime. Songs are anchored by catchy melodic leads, atmospheric symphonies, and punishing, relentless kitwork (no drummer is credited, so hopefully it’s not programmed). Galundo Tenvulance’s new vocalist, Sao, delivers the goods, bringing a spirited energy to her performance that elevates the already terrific material. While the symphonics don’t quite elevate the music the same way they do for Assemble the Chariots, it’s the melodic riffs that make these guys stand out. “Noble Rot” is the highlight, with a killer lead riff that uses harmonics to add just that extra bit of oomph. Other highlights include the catchy “Regret Never Sleeps,” evoking Character-era Dark Tranquillity, and “In The Realms of the Unreal,” which demonstrates their ability to transform solos into surprising melodies. This might be too good to have landed in the filter, but with my TYMHM slots filled up, it’s better than nothing.

Mortal Scepter // Ethereal Dominance [September 9th, 2025 – Xtreem Music]

As if we didn’t have enough thrash floating in the filter, French outfit Mortal Scepter finds itself as yet another piece of thrash dredged from the muck. This quartet has been around since 2012, yet Ethereal Dominance is only their second full-length release. Their sound lands somewhere between the melodic thrash of Bloodletter and the mania of Deathhammer—though a touch less zany. The persistent level of energy these bands can maintain never ceases to amaze me. While the constant beat of drum blasts threatens to make thrash songs sound too similar, the variety of melodies Mortal Scepter delivers ensures that things never grow repetitive. They have a raw, blackened sound that feels immediate and in your face. Drummer Guillaume keeps an impressive pace with fresh-sounding, nonstop blast beats, while vocalist Lucas Scellier snarls with enthusiasm, with a voice comparable to Deathhammer’s Sergeant Salsten. However, it’s the guitars by Maxime and Scellier that really bring the band to life, from the noodly melodies to the dynamic, lengthy, and impressive solos on each song. These guys prove they are more than just simple thrash metallers on the epic thrash, ten-minute finale, “Into the Wolves Den,” which uses a mix of tempo shifts and hooky melodies to make the song just fly by. With this second LP under their belts, these guys have proven themselves an exciting newish band on the thrash scene.

Grin Reaper’s Woodland Windfall

Autrest // Burning Embers, Forgotten Wolves [September 5th, 2025 – Northern Silence Productions]

Burning Embers, Forgotten Wolves merges atmospheric black metal with nature, resuming Autrest’s vision from debut Follow the Cold Path. Like Saor or Falls of Rauros, stunning melodies play across untamed backdrops that stir heartstrings in unexpected ways. Ethereal keys, mournful strings, and rapid-fire tremolos impeccably capture Burning Embers, Forgotten Wolves’ autumnal artwork, bringing Autrest’s imagery to life. Harsh vocals sit back in the mix, evoking windswept trees as cool harvest gusts leach branches of color, while sporadic baritone cleans add variation. “Lobos (Offering)” sets the stage with melancholic guitar plucks bolstered by forlorn strings, giving way to a controlled spark as “Ashes from the Burning Embers” ratchets up roiling vigor. Through forty-two minutes, Autrest expertly guides listeners across shifting landscapes that are delightful in their earnestness. Mastermind Matheus Vidor establishes himself as a preeminent architect of mood, channeling transitions from gentle, wonder-filled serenity to unyielding wrath. The dynamic between aggression and introspection is marvelous, permeating the album with emotion. While I could understand a complaint that some songs blur together, the spirit of Burning Embers, Forgotten Wolves is never stale or disposable. Rather, Autrest has taken what began two years ago and enriched it, composing an ode to self-discovery and transformation.³ My own experience with the music conjures wilderness’s last hurrah before succumbing to winter’s embrace. As days grow shorter and temperatures drop,⁴ I encourage you to seek refuge and draw warmth from these Burning Embers.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Very Not Late Novella

Sterveling // Sterveling [September 26th, 2025 – Self Release]

Between the world of atmospheric and post-tinged black metal, there exists a twisted form of progressive music that teeters about brooding moods and crackling tones to explore shrieking sadness and profound sorrow. Michiel van der Werff (Prospectors, Weltschmerz), primary Dutch proprietor of Sterveling, places his expressive guitar runs and lurching rhythm clangs in the company of trusted friends to carry out his tortured, baroque vision of black metal. Against the hissing design of synth maestro and Prospectors bandmate Matthias Ruijgrok, a fullness and warping warmth pervades the spacious amp textures and muscular rhythmic framework of each piece. And through the bloodied cries of Weltschmerz bandmate Hreim, a vocal lightning flashes to illuminate the nooks between pulsing synth lines and deathly bursts of full tremolo assault. In three longform pieces, all still totaling a generous forty-two minutes, Sterveling tints a monochrome narrative with vibrant shades from thoughtful tones and well-timed, emotional escalations. Committed to each careful iteration on a melody, the woven Sterveling web grows ever stickier with every passing moment, none of the ten-minute-plus excursions ever feeling even close to their declared runtimes. And with a sound construction that hits delicate yet forceful, creaking yet incising, it’s easy to wander through several journeys on this debut outing before realizing what time has passed. Fans of equally forlorn acts like Tongues or Andalvald will feel more at home here than others. But with a tonal palette that’s as inviting as it is crushing, Sterveling should attract the ears of fans across the extreme spectrum.

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

One thing I can say for certain is that Hope Scars stands head and shoulders above Vandampire’s previous EPs. Past releases certainly contained all the elements on display here, but Hope Scars sees Vandampire mixing those sounds in elegant fashion. Where once sludge and post-metal stood apart or minimally integrated, here they are inseparable, a cohesive whole. Crushing, abrasive guitars (Joseph Siddons, Matthew Billingham) dance and thrash over basslines (Michael Edmonds) three c’s thiccc. Drummer Mark Litchfield, rather than simply keeping time, enunciates and elevates his bandmates’ performances. The result is tonally sludgy, like Kowloon Walled City, but softened by the patient, thorough sensibilities of post-metal songcraft. In keeping with this description, Billingham utilizes hardcore shouts and screams, but is smartly pushed back in the mix, so his vocals feel more like an instrument than a focal point. His delivery occasionally fails to capitalize on Hope Scars’ more emotive landscape, but it’s generally well-suited to the style. The Vandampire of Hope Scars is unmistakably the Vandampire of early EPs, but the maturity and nuance on display here is astonishing by comparison.

As noted in their promo material, Vandampire’s core weapon is The Riff™, and Siddons and Billingham wield it well. They oscillate between stone and sludge with surprising dexterity, riffs effortlessly flowing from one to the next (“Ultralow,” “A Promise”). Vaunted lead guitars soar over a dense rhythm section (“Hope Scars,” “Let Ruin End Here”), reminding me of Explosions in the Sky and the erhu played on Deadly Carnage’s Endless Blue. Those leads are my favorite thing on the album, searingly bright amidst the sludge. Siddons and Billingham, in concert with Edmonds’ teeth-rattling bass and Litchfield’s lively and energetic drums, weave a spell both heavy and heartfelt, hopeful and tragic. Like a metal Mogwai, Vandampire ties your feet to a sinking anchor but always makes sure you can see light on the surface.

Vandampire’s evolved style on Hope Scars fails to avoid the bloated and poorly paced pitfalls of the genre. Hope Scars’ two interludes break the album into three digestible parts, but ultimately prove frustrating. “In Ascension” builds beautifully in the back half, but fades out and misses the opportunity to lead into “Eaves.” I enjoyed the Americana tone of “I Will Miss Everything I Forget,” but this is also a standalone, and at three minutes each, these interludes linger entirely too long for what they are. The biggest bloatual offenders, however, are “Eaves” and “Let Ruin End Here.” The former fades out halfway through its five-minute runtime, leaving me with ambient noises and muffled conversation that suggest they just…forgot to turn off the mic. The latter begins to wind down a full three minutes before the end of its 12-minute runtime and concludes with 80 seconds of bird sounds. All told, Hope Scars could stand to lose at least ten minutes.

Vandampire’s vast improvement over previous efforts and an instrumental section that’s absolutely locked in make for good, engaging music. There’s a lot of great playlist fodder on here, but playlist fodder doesn’t make a great album. Roughly a quarter of Hope Scars is fluff, and while some of it—the interludes—could have been better utilized, at least half of it just wastes time. Vandampire has come a long way since they started in 2018, and if Hope Scars proves anything, it’s that they have the chops to go much further. I’ll just have to wait until next time to see if they get there.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: October 31st, 2025

The post Vandampire – Hope Scars Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

The title track enters with what I would expect from an early 2010s metalcore band intro,² the Americana cover of 1919 gospel song “I Can’t Feel At Home in this World Anymore” morphing into a full-on dissodeath takedown via a barb of squealing dissonance. While this and the final song, “The World is Not My Home” seem to tie up the album into a thematic deconstruction of religion, Unself is a bit more complex than that. It reflects the journey of vocalist/guitarist Dani Nightingale through an autism diagnosis and discovery of them being non-binary. Similarly reflecting this complexity and remaining incredibly difficult to neatly categorize its sonic assault, Conjurer lays a foundation of post-metal’s meandering rhythmic hulk with death metal intensity, sludge tonal abuse, and a sleek modern production built atop, with – in Unself – hints of black metal. It’s not the second coming of Mire – it’s Unself and undeniably on-brand and completely authentic – and that’s perfectly okay for Conjurer.

Unself’s structure shows Conjurer’s devotion to natural growth, a welcome change from the shoehorned Páthos – largely because Nightingale’s sonic struggles with self-discovery undergird the movements. The two halves of the album are divided into three tracks, bookended by the Huntsmen-influenced thematic motif of the aforesaid “I Can’t Feel at Home in This World” morphed into ugly beatdowns and yearning sadness. The meat of the two suites fall into one of three categories: the relatively traditional post-metal waltzing of Amenra’s heavier moments in sprawling weight (“All Apart,” “Foreclosure”), the yearning chord progressions and melodies recalling Páthos’ emotive emphasis to a more effective degree (“There Is No Warmth,” “Let Us Live”), or the outright assaults of blackened sludge and -core breakdowns (“The Searing Glow,” “Hang Them in Your Head”). As the album progresses, so does the intensity. The latter, the most vicious of the bunch, feel like they nearly boil over, nearly forsaking the post-metal attack for an obscure death metal attack a la Convulsing or Adversarial – making interlude “A Plea” truly the eye of the storm in its minimalist approach, distant vocal samples, and acoustic strumming.

The balance between novelty and songwriting remains an issue for Conjurer. Because of the trichotomy of its sounds, Unself offers different levels of quality. At first, the more traditional post-metal cuts (“All Apart,” “Foreclosure”) feel like absolute bangers, touched with darkness and harmony – but then you hear the other two approaches and they suddenly feel overly long and uneventful in comparison. Likewise, there are several tracks that could stand a good trimming, simply because many feature a singular abrupt tonal shift from melodic to dissonant in its last respective third (“There is No Warmth,” “Let Us Live”). A more divisive take is that Conjurer’s production is very modern and sleek, the down-tuned leads more akin to 2010s metalcore acts like The Plot in You or The Sorrow, an accessibility largely contradicting post-metal’s historic opaqueness (Neurosis) and death metal’s hostility (Bolt Thrower), so while I liked its more “loud and ouchy” tones, others may not be so persuaded.

The novelty and the emotion are resolved in Unself, as Conjurer finally feels authentic and realized. No, Unself is not better than Mire, but it feels more genuine and human than Páthos, offering some of the act’s most intense material to date while chronicling the dismantling of the self into something more authentic. Not only does Dani Nightingale embark on a journey of self-discovery, but Conjurer does too. I’m just happy to be along for the ride.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: conjureruk.bandcamp.com | conjureruk.com | facebook.com/conjureruk
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

The post Conjurer – Unself Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

You Are Safe From God Here has its moments of doom and post-metal atmosphere and songwriting, but it feels like the spiritual successor to 2020’s Slow Decay – colossal, dense, and pissed off. The Acacia Strain weaponizes doom and sludge in its devastating guitar tone that swallows listeners whole, guided by Vincent Bennett’s husky roars and Matt Guglielmo’s rabid percussion – all for the service of a more explicitly anti-religious stance. The album title and its tracks reflect this, although Bennett has stated that the idea of “God” has more than just religious connotations: basically, anything that rules a listener’s life, this album offers a safe place from it. In many ways, the album feels a bit like a fusion of Step Into the Light’s brevity and Failure Will Follow’s ambition – weaponized to be Slow Decay’s spiritual successor. You Are Safe From God Here is the hardcore/deathcore heavyweights continually firing on all cylinders, although The Acacia Strain remains hindered by a few habits.

While the one- to three-minute bruisers populate the track list, closer “Eucharist II: Blood Loss” feels like an adherent of the band’s long-form content. This proves to be the most ambitious and the most divisive moment of the album, its almost fourteen-minute length comprising a huge chunk of the album’s thirty-three minute runtime. Featuring vocalist Sunny Faris of hard rock/doom outfit Blackwater Holylight, it wavers between mountainous riffs and Bennett’s commanding roars and ambient placidity and Faris’ vulnerable croons (not unlike iRis.EXE’s performance in “Pillar of Salt”). A highlight of dynamic songwriting, it nonetheless suffers from the thorn in The Acacia Strain’s side: production. While the rest of the tracks are so swallowed in downtuned ridiculousness (positive), the negative spaces of “Blood Loss” highlight the snare’s glaringly compressed and synthetic tone, while the stunning lack of filth belies its dense guitars. A truly frustrating chink in the armor for The Acacia Strain, whose sound is constantly evolving yet is constantly let down by its sterile production.

Blessedly, the groovy short-form tracks that comprise the majority of the tracklist remain unfuckwithable. The Acacia Strain rides the line between speedy blastbeat-guided hardcore sprints and the down-tuned monolithic dirge bruising that have you wallowing in tonal abuse – driven by Bennett’s formidable vocal attack. Intentionality is the name of the game, mindless breakdowns and ominous tones anchored to a strong foundation of groove, feeling like organic progressions rather than the stereotyped beatdowns shoehorned into existential-core crises. The more hardcore-adjacent rippers offer momentum (“The Machine that Bleeds,”¹ “A Call Beyond,” “Aeonian Wrath”), the sludge-steeped tonal seepage allows down-tuned reveling (“Acolyte of the One,” “Sacred Relic”), but the groove-infected tracks prove to be the real winners (“Mourning Star,” “Holy Moonlight,” “World Gone Cold”), balancing dynamic movement between swallowing sludge and raging hardcore fluidly. These tracks feel like an improvement from Step Into the Light in nearly every way: denser, faster, more haunting, and more pissed off.

On almost every level, You Are Safe From God Here is The Acacia Strain’s best album. Retaining that hugeness they are renowned and hated for in equal measure, while fusing its more experimental styles into a cohesive whole guided by a singular theme, the deathcore veterans show willingness to experiment without sacrificing their brand. However, the band’s contradicting proclamations of filth and sterile production do not do it any favors, declawing some of the more vicious numbers and dropping the facade for its more manufactured pieces – keeping the band from the greatness of which they are so capable. That being said, You Are Safe From God Here is a banger for the better.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Rise Records
Websites: theacaciastrain.bandcamp.com | youaresafefromgodhere.com | facebook.com/Theacaciastrain
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

The post The Acacia Strain – You Are Safe From God Here Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.