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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Granted, the concept of an album where each song tells a story about a distinctive demonic entity with its own unique “physical traits” and “specific weapon” is extremely silly, yet Killerdemons proves to be a catchy and cool affair. Borrower claim Motörhead, Judas Priest, and Dio as their main influences, and they write spare, riff-tastic tunes in their honor. The guitars carry much more heft than their influences, however, with enough reverb to take tunes dangerously close to stoner territory a lá High on Fire and Black Sabbath. This marriage between speed and stoner proves effective. “El Degollador” oscillates between lightning-fast, “Ace of Spades”-inspired riffs and slower, “War Pigs”-style stoner riffs in a performance that’s sure to give you whiplash. Taking a cue from AC/DC, Borrower keeps their song structures simple yet catchy. The rollicking “Stay Alive” best demonstrates this virtue with crisp songwriting and energetic pacing. Each track has distinctive riffs that are far more powerful than the demons it conjures.

In the eight years since their 2018 EP, A Plague Chapter…, Borrower has vastly improved their sound and instrumental prowess. The two Matteos have played a major role in this transformation. Marini’s fuzzy guitar tone adds heft where the EP’s guitars sounded tinny. His blending of Motörhead-style riffcrafting with the density of High on Fire and Mastodon adds an extra oomph to tracks like “Der Todessoldat” and “Tough Fight.” Marzo’s bass takes a commanding presence as well. He adds depth and backbone to the music, making his presence especially felt on the slower moments of “Knocking on the Coffins.” Formoso takes a restrained approach behind the kit, occasionally blasting the cymbals (“Dream on Fire”), but mostly setting the pace with an effective simplicity. The wild card of the group is vocalist Ratano. He seemingly channels Lemmy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Fozzie Bear in a truly strange, yet somehow endearing performance. His Italian accent, which drags out the words “kee-ler dee-mons” during the chorus of “Killerdemons,” adds a level of camp that contributes to the goofy fun.

While Borrower keeps Killerdemons to a concise 36 minutes, the record does falter on the two songs that stray from the 3-4 minute range. The first, “Knocking on the Coffins,” has some memorable riffs, including a cool, old school solo, but at over five minutes, it drags on a bit too long. Positioned between the album’s two best tracks, it also proves to be a major momentum killer. The biggest sore thumb, however, is the six-plus minute finale, “A Chaos Vortex.” Not only does it lack memorable riffs, but it falters in its final two minutes as the band sorely misjudges when to best wrap it up. Trimming 2-3 minutes from each of these songs would have immensely improved the album’s otherwise incredible pacing.

As I established last month, metal tends to invite some weird characters, and the killer demon universe created here is certainly an odd one. But that’s also what makes metal so much fun. Bands feel free to try out their off-the-wall ideas, from literary– or video game-inspired themes to the creation of fantasy or sci-fi realms. And sometimes these ideas actually work. Borrower finally sees through their vision, or at least the start of it, and presents it in such a catchy, cool way. I love to see original ideas performed with such care and passion, and I hope these guys continue to cultivate their ideas and musical talents.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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Erbeet Azhak’s black metal is desolate and chaotic, but doesn’t stray far from trails travelled by C.V.B.’s other projects. Still, it finds him further flexing his vocal muscles, which are a mix of everyman blackened rasps alongside tonal shouts and growls that sound a lot like F.O.A.D.-era Nocturno Culto. Even as Erbeet Azhak brings C.V.B.’s own guitar and bass talents to bear, guest musicians S. Iblis’s (Possession) lead guitar, Onbra Oscoura’s (Abyssal Vacuum) bass, and Laye’s (Putrid Offal) drumming flesh out a sound palette that explores several black metal styles. Sargeist lurks in the riffs of galloping melodicism present on “The Wings of Liberation,” just as Blut Aus Nord fans can belly up to a bar stocked with blasting beats and decaying dissonance (“Lecherous Angels,” “Death to the Self”).¹ Further examination finds traces of Aosoth in the near blackened war metal of “Only the Vile Will Remain,” while devotees of doomier plods ala late-era Darkthrone should find comfort in the folds of “Erbeet Azhak.” Despite what seems such a mixed bag, Only the Vile Will Remain encases its twists and turns in a production that provides sonic consistency.

Raw but nuanced, Erbeet Azhak packs as many interesting details into Only the Vile Will Remain as Luciana Nedelea did her excellent cover art. I particularly enjoyed the engaging guitar leads that creep amongst the riffs and blast beats of “The Weakness of Our Cycle” as much as I did the intriguing riff patterns and spacy, atmospheric interlude that hijacks “The Inner Circle” around the 2:45 mark, segueing into a really nice melodic guitar solo. Iblis’s performance warrants particular note, as he peppers the whole of Only the Vile Will Remain with lots of satisfying, melodically intricate solo work not present on most black metal of this ilk (“The Wings of Liberation,” “Death to Self”). C.V.B.’s performance on the mic also deserves a nod. While he’s never contributed in this way on any of the other projects he’s involved with, save Aerdryk, his vocals fit what Erbeet Azhak does well and add a layer of gravelly, gothic tension and menace. The vocal cherry on top, however, belongs to Zd from LVTHN, whose inhuman screeches absolutely haunt the back-end passages of “Lecherous Angels.”

While Only the Vile Will Remain isn’t a sprawling, over-bloated behemoth by any means, it could benefit from a little nip and tuck. Erbeet Azkhak traverses the many planes of its black metal existence with relative ease and is most compelling when song lengths provide enough room for all the transitions to develop. Evident even on the albums second shortest song, “The Wings of Liberation,” which transitions from a galloping mid-pace to a blast-furnace passage before moving on toward a guitar solo flowing with melodicism and then back again, all within the span of 4:06. Ironically, this leaves the 3:46’s of the title track stuck in my craw as the album’s most boring; its straight-forward, blast-beat-overloaded war-metal approach sticking out sorely amidst the much more atmospheric fare on display. Cutting this and the mostly superfluous intro would have left Only the Vile Will Remain a more lethal beast.

Erbeet Azhak hasn’t revolutionized the landscape of black metal, neither in Belgium nor in the broader, raw-as-misanthropic scene in which Only the Vile Will Remain operates. Those intrigued by the name drops above should find something of value here. I know I got more than I was expecting. For now, I’d say there’s a fresh sprout on the Belgian black metal family tree with Erbeet Azhak’s name on it; whether that grows into a sturdy branch or not, only time will tell.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Amor Fati Productions
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2026²

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On Hiraeth, Abstracted demonstrates a thorough understanding of contemporary progressive metal styles and integrates them into something all their own. The band’s main sound is a djent-fueled take on modern progressive death metal, closest to early-era The Contortionist in its blending of odd-meter riffery, post-rock-influenced textures, and an enticing contrast between melancholic space-age cleans and technical 6-string chugs. Abstracted balance this with more traditional Haken-esque classic prog turnarounds and jazz breaks (“Sirens”), fast-paced Between the Buried and Me riff marathons (“To Quench This Insatiable Thirst”), and harmonic nuance within darker moments à la Persefone (“Requiem”). The result is a varied and dynamic set of tunes that glide effortlessly between impressive riff-fueled aggression and cathartic melodies. Songs like “The Utter End” and “The Barren Grave of God” demonstrate the band’s ability to naturally move from strength to strength without missing a beat, unfolding across expansive guitar arpeggios, delightfully off-kilter breakdowns, virtuosic solos, and powerful musical climaxes.

This level of fluidity and genre cohesion on Hiraeth is only made possible by the high level of musicianship Abstracted display. Guitarists José Consani and Leonardo Brito give varied performances that successfully meld more djent-centric playing with classic death metal sensibilities and demonstrate keen melodic ears with dense jazz chords and powerful lead lines. Drummer Fernando Pollen blends Latin grooves with acrobatic modern metal flourishes, and the production’s more natural drum tone allows his dynamic nuances to guide several songs. ² On bass, Riverton Alves turns in a thoroughly warm and jazz-based, Cynic-flavored performance that shines during quieter moments, while keyboardist Carol Lynn supplies plenty of atmosphere through subtle synth textures and steps to the forefront a few times with quirky, but effective synth lines reminiscent of Diego Tejeida. Together, this ensemble breathes plenty of life into a style of music that can often feel over-processed, and their performances help to unify this collection of songs into a cohesive whole.The only elements of Hiraeth that aren’t immediately impressive are the vocals and the production. Rosano Pedro Matiussi delivers an impassioned performance, and his vocal lines often fit the songs well, but his clean singing lacks a certain impact or personality to elevate good moments into great ones. Initially, this was enough to deter me from really digging deeper and appreciating the songcraft on display, but the singing grew on me quite a bit with time. Similarly, his death growls are solid, if not one-note, and they feel like they exist more so to fill a role than to accent particular sections. This could potentially be the production’s fault, as Hiraeth sounds generally good and more natural than the swaths of overproduced modern prog ³ but lacks a certain sonic clarity, occasionally making especially dense sections harder to parse. There’s a distinct lack of reverb on the harsh vocals, and I can’t help but wonder if a stronger mix could fit the layered clean singing a bit better. Matiussi’s vocals are far from bad, and there are parts like the somber intro to “Requiem” where he sounds great, but when everything else is operating at such a high level, they feel like a weak link.

With Hiraeth, Abstracted have delivered an impressive piece of modern progressive metal. This record is a grower for sure, with dense and layered compositions often revealing their clever construction and intense interconnectedness only after repeated spins. Even if the vocals leave a little to be desired, the Brazilian group has successfully combined the sounds of several of the best modern prog bands into something exciting and nuanced.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: abstractedmetal.bandcamp | facebook.com/abstractedbr
Releases Worldwide: February 20, 2026

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Those who heed Triumpher’s call as I do will be happy to know that the MegatonManowarsword righteousness these Greeks wield like Olympians remains as stalwart as ever. In fact, Piercing the Heart of the World marks the high-water mark of the Triumpher troupe’s songwriting skill and performative prowess. Mars Triumph puts down a vocal showcase of a singular passion, his wild and animalistic delivery reminiscent of Riot City’s early work. That invigorating spirit finds loyal and unflinching support from stellar guitar leads, galloping riffs, and scorching tremolo waves courtesy of guitarists Christopher Tsakiropoulos and Mario Ñ Peters. Meanwhile, Stelios Zoumis rumbles like a thunderous storm, throwing hefty bass bolts through every measure to anchor every one of Piercing’s 45 minutes in righteous metal. Driving the march toward inevitable WICTORY, Agis Tzoukopoulos tumbles, pounds, and stomps his way through every technique known to metalkind in the pursuit of maximum awesomeness, and finds it with alarming regularity here.

Piercing the Heart of the World proves that Triumpher achieved the next stage of evolution in their still-young career. With the massive one-two punch of “Black Blood” and “Destroyer,” Piercing launches with a ferocity that would intimidate the finest specimen of any apex predator family. The former song recalls the vampiric darkness that inked Storming the Walls, which is a welcome introduction, but fails in the most exhilarating way to prepare me for the sword-raising spirit of the latter. That, in turn, fails to prepare me for the epic beauty that is “The Mountain Throne.” The first of two Song o’ the Year contenders, this sub-seven-minute odyssey traverses a calming plucking melody to dive right into blackened speed and a thrashy gallop, all while Mars croons and wails atop a storm of double bass runs and blasts. Yet, the whole is smoother than chrome and sharper than scalpels, resulting in an utterly astounding listening experience. However, even it feels understated when faced with the late-album highlight “Erinyes.” Punky and thrashy in a way I never thought traditional heavy metal could be, but still possessed of that chest-thumping, fist-pumping flame that lights hearts and souls ablaze, “Erinyes” is an unqualified success of excess, exuberance, and excitement.

In the past, Triumpher’s greatest weakness was always that the highlights far outstripped the supporting cast. Not so with Piercing. Even the slow and metered “Ithaca (Return of the Eternal King),” ballad interlude “Vault of the Immortals,” and two-act closer “Naus Apidalia” find ways to make memories and stand with distinction in Triumpher’s catalog. In all cases, those memories are founded in storytelling, either by establishing new characters (as is the case with “Ithaca”), shifting the tone (“Vault”), or by resolving arcs and tying up loose ends (“Naus Apidalia”). This strategy, in turn, makes more traditional heavy metal crowd pleasers like “The Flaming Sword”—which boasts a sleeper chorus that will get stuck in your head—feel more impactful than they might’ve otherwise.

With this in mind, I found very little to complain about. If it weren’t for his sheer charisma, I would say that Mars’ vocal performance teases the “Too Much” button far more often than I prefer. Were it not for the presence of endless barnstormer solos and affecting melodies, I would bemoan the protracted runtime of the closer. The meaty bass presence foils my bubbling rant against the more aggressive compression and increased loudness of this master. The caveats persist, leaving behind a wake of hobbled criticisms that would conspire to chip away at Triumpher’s final score. The damage they perpetrated amounts to mere flesh wounds in the end. Put simply, Piercing the Heart of the World is Triumpher’s greatest triumph yet, and you’d do well to hear it!

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: No Remorse Records
Websites: triumpher.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Triumpher.official
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

Steel Druhm

I was unaware of Greek mega-trve metal warriors Triumpher until Kenstrosity tackled their Storming the Walls debut back in 2023. I was immediately intrigued by the Manowar-meets-Megaton Sword-meets-Primordial sound they brought to the battlefield, and though there were some trials, tribulations, and rough spots to their presentation, the core of something bigger was there. Things improved on 2024s Spirit Invictus, as the Triumpher sound became more potent and consistently enthralling, and they seemed poised to usurp the throne of trve metal through sheer might and mayhem. Fast-forward to 2026, and their third crusade is set to kick off with Piercing the Heart of the World. I came into this hoping and expecting to be shocked and awed by sword, shield, and steroidal masculinity. Could Triumpher be the Manowar for this new age? That’s a mighty big loincloth to fill, but hope hung thickly in the air.

My anticipation of excessive glory overload was slaked by ginormous opener “Black Blood,” and woe to those who don’t bend the knee. It’s a volatile mash-up of Manowar, Primordial, and Doomsword, with a structure that starts out larger-than-life and tries to stack vainglorious and titanic moments upon one another like a grand memorial to the Elder Gods. Vocalist Mars Triumph channels Manowar’s legendary Eric Adams while also referencing Primordial’s A.A. Nemtheanga. This makes the song a total barn burner and exactly what I was hoping for. They follow this up with the uber-beefy, badass “Destroyer,” which reeks of Manowar’s The Triumph of Steel era. Grandiose choral segments and black metal influences elbow their way in, but this is a trve metal chariot ride through the Nine Worlds. Keeping the sword between the ribs, “The Mountain Throne” finds Triumpher pushing every lever to MAX GLORY as the false and weak flee for the safety of their fortifications. This one brings a lot of the same energy as the recent Fer De Lance, and there are touches of Lost Horizon, too. Mars stretches his vocals to the very edge of madness, and the chorus is as mighty as a barrel full of Wotans. Those who make it through this will be gifted a lifetime supply of wisdom, power, and back hair.

What could stop such a mighty and righteous host after such a rousing start? A soft and flabby middle, that’s what. “Ithaca (Return of the Eternal King)” is a slow-burning epical ballad that keeps building toward a massive release of rage and wiolence, but the release never arrives, and you’re kept on the edge of something for nearly 7 minutes with no somethings in sight. This results in the condition known as Blue Baldur. “Ithaca” is immediately followed by the 2-minute interlude “Vaults of Immortals,” which is equally restrained and subdued, making for 9 minutes stuck in emo-fied low-gear. This blunts the album’s momentum, taking you out of battle rage and into resource management. Steel cares not for resource herding when they are enemies left to be smottened! While things pick up with “The Flaming Sword,” and especially the trve-meets-semi-black-thrash of “Erinyes,” it feels like the album never fully regains its war footing, and 9-minute plus closer “Naus Apidalia” is merely good, not great, and suffers from some very Virgin Steele-esque compositional sinkholes and ego bloat. At a reasonable 44:44, Piercing the Heart of the World feels much longer than that, and though the first 16 or so minutes are massive, the rest of the album can’t sustain the prolonged siege.

I’m impressed with Mars Triumph’s performance. He’s gotten more proficient from album to album, and he has a crazy broad range. Anyone who can approximate Eric Adams is talented, and his black and death vocals are good as well. That said, he can and does overdo things at times, pushing his tonsils beyond human control. I can’t even suggest he dial things back, since that is not what Triumpher is all about. You just take the good with the weird and ride on. The guitar work from Christopher Tsakiropoulos and Mario Ñ Peters brings the thunder to the tundra, borrowing from a raft of trve and heavy influences while injecting enough blackened edges to make things extra deadly and dangerous. As the riffs roar and soar, Agis Tzoukopoulos delivers Scott Columbus-approved war drumming that embiggens the sword and spirit. This is a talented horde, and it’s the songwriting missteps that ultimately derail their relentless advance.

Triumpher have all the tools to forge a world-beating heavy metal monsterpiece, but Piercing the Heart of the World fails to penetrate my armor and score a critical hit. I heartily enjoy the opening trilogy, and there’s solid stuff later on, but this isn’t an album that captivates me from start to finish, despite my fervent wishes that it did. Piercing loses some of the ground won by Spirit Invictus, but I haven’t lost heart. The warrior spirit will endure and rise again if Crom wills it. Onward to great deeds!

Rating: 3.0/5.0

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Dusk have been at it for a while now, toiling in the shadows to scrape together an acid concoction of abrasive noise and screaming menace. But who hasn’t? Newcomers to the blog, or the metal scene in general, may not have enjoyed of the deep sadness of early-2010s underground metal, when the promo pit burst with bedroom black metal from a seemingly inexhaustible trove of men who owned a guitar and made up for their lack of talent, and bandmates, and vision by pure profligacy. Though we’re now blessed with far more in the way of interesting music, the Vardans of the world are still out there, now and again transformed by their toil into something worthy of remark. And the crisp mashup of industrial synthesizers and black metal intensity has been worth a listen for the last decade in which Dusk have operated. Now it’s worth a few more.

Bunker is the Costa Rican band’s seventh record, and sixth this decade, masterminded by the eponymous producer who has had the Dusk aesthetic down to a science; enveloping low-end rumbles, echoing synths, spares instructions for his attendant vocalist and string-slingers, and a grim sense of inevitability. With the sound palette sorted out, it’s up to Dusk’s compositional skill to make Bunker worthwhile. It’s all too easy for electronic music to lean heavily into repetition; the infinitely replicable nature of composition in the medium lends itself towards riding extended grooves while adding and subtracting new elements. While Dusk certainly use this to their advantage in the latter half of the album, Bunker is front-loaded with two exciting tracks that move much faster than their tonal palette would suggest. “BUNKER I” begins in noisy ambience before introducing an Author & Punisher beat as its other sounds warp and stutter. A sudden blast of tremolo picking by guitarist Implacable gives way to more complex industrial beats and a simple, martial guitar riff, and then it’s over, transitioning into the Anaal Nathrakh-meets-Bliss Signal “Bunker II,” which vacillates between electronic blasts and subdued keys, with a lonely sonar ping accompanying both. Neither element ever overstays its welcome, and just six minutes in to Bunker, I was hooked.

Dusk can pack detail into songs even when they’re allowed to stretch out, and Bunker succeeds on meticulous sound design. In the doomy, menacing “Bunker III,” Dusk re-uses beats and samples dozens of times, but never outright repeats the same combinations of elements, making full use of the tools available to them. Though the song is slow-moving, subtle crescendos, particular spacing of instruments across the sound stage, and slowly adjusting cutoffs that amplify the intensity of a clip of breaking glass combine to keep this reprieve interesting for as long as the first two tracks lasted.

At twenty-three minutes, Bunker is an exercise in restraint that pulls ahead of the band’s back catalog in part on the strength of its concision. These songs move through ideas quickly enough to never grow stale, but there’s also a nagging feeling that Dusk’s compositions are somewhat automatic; each new idea that the songs explore is a small one, introduced almost scientifically so as to see just what that little tweak will do in the context surrounding it. No bizarre riff, jarring melody, or impressive performance could maintain this paradigm. Bunker, like most records Dusk put out, is something of a mood piece, hewing closely to a particular exploration of what this industrial/black metal hybrid can be without producing standout songs that make the sound creatively compelling. I’m left wanting something a bit less well-considered, something vital that’s often difficult for me to find in electronic music.

Nevertheless, Bunker is a compelling introduction to Dusk for anyone who hasn’t encountered the group before, and it stands as a concise exploration of their sound. Its damp, brooding atmospheres contrast expertly with moments of screaming static, and it’s all bolstered by enveloping production. Among the band’s now lengthy back catalog, Bunker’s combination of concision and vision stands out, but it’s only the sum of its many intricate but unimpressive parts. For Dusk to break through, they’ll have to break their own carefully-constructed mold.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: duskvt.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: February 20^th, 2026

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Death Knocks

Hoaxed plays a familiar brand of bass-heavy, mid-paced doomy rock. In contrast with much of the genre, Hoaxed’s guitars might be the most understated part of their sound. Alternating between more aggressive riffs that recall Sumerlands and sparser melodies, Kat Keo’s guitar work is simple but tinged with evil. New bassist April Dimmick (Soul Grinder) brings her thrash experience to bear with aggressive thumping bass lines that often steal the show. Keo also handles lead clean vocals, while Dimmick alternates between clean harmonizing and harsh growls. These vocal melodies serve as a backbone, offering straightforward but engaging hooks to hold songs together. Rounded out by occasional synth backing, Death Knocks’ style of Gothic rock reminds me of Avatarium or a slowed-down Unto Others. It’s not an unheard-of style, but it’s one that works.

Death Knocks revels in its simplicity. Keo and Dimmick’s vocal work shines through its power rather than any technical gymnastics. The catchy melodies grab my attention throughout, even when other pieces falter; for instance, the rising and falling vocals of “Kill Switch” single-handedly redeem a track that struggles otherwise. Keo’s serene vocal approach sometimes reminds me of Myrkur’s folkier work (“The Fallen”). Similarly, Dimmick’s vocal harmonies aren’t earth-shattering, but they add a layer of depth throughout the album. Meanwhile, her bass riffs don’t hesitate to take center stage, adding oomph and variety (“Wretched”). But the real star of this show might be the drums. Kim Coffel’s tom-heavy and hi-hat-heavy kit attack displays a mastery of groove and creativity without feigning a technical clinic. The drums evolve constantly both within verses and between them, adding fluidity even in melodically simple moments (“Dead Ringer”). Coupled with a rich sound, Death Knocks’ drums are the most memorable part of the album, which I rarely ever say.

Straightforward songs are Hoaxed’s strength, but they can get old. Death Knocks’ song structures are cookie-cutter, with verses and choruses interspersed with instrumental interludes. While this poppy approach can work fine, it quickly loses me when the underlying melodies aren’t bulletproof (“Promised to Me”). Similarly, Hoaxed struggles to have creative outros even on their stronger tracks (“The Fallen”), making it seem like they came up with great ideas but weren’t sure how to stitch them together. Keo’s guitar melodies stand out on the opener “Where the Seas Fall Silent” and the fantastic “The Family,” but in the middle of the album, they tend to lose my interest through repetition. Death Knocks is consistently competent, but would benefit from more variety in its songwriting.

It’d be tough to argue that Death Knocks rewrites the book on anything. But with catchy vocal harmonies, engaging guitar and bass lines, and a stand-out drum performance, it’s a worthy addition to your collection. Death Knocks is also a triumph of conciseness; if this album had been 50 minutes long rather than 31, the bloat would have made it more of a chore to get through. As it stands, while Hoaxed has room to grow in their musical diversity, Death Knocks is a perfectly entertaining and ghoulish listen.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: hoaxed.bandcamp.com | hoaxedband.com | facebook.com/hoaxedband
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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Fortunately, the first few minutes of Rituel : Initiation act as an interesting microcosm for its whole: “Une Pleine Absence” lulls you in slowly with heavy atmosphere, wordless sighs, throat singing (I believe from lead vocalist Sébastien Defabiani), and acoustic passages, slowly building in intensity. It does this so effectively, in fact, that when the guitars do arrive, they feel overly jagged, loud, and harsh. I signed up for a post-black metal album—I expected loud. But De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube do somber atmosphere very well, and they do post and black metal well, but it’s interesting how the two can be at odds with each other in this style. Ten minutes later, this moment is forgotten, and the guitars sound as natural as anything else. “Une Pleine Absence” is still going, incorporating tremolos and depressive shrieks as a heavier atmospheric element, and you know well what to expect over the rest of Rituel : Initiation.

This intersection of rough-around-the-edges post metal, black metal aggression, and atmospheric melancholy seems to define both Rituel : Initiation and De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube. “Le Vertige d’une Descendance” is similar to the intro in that it starts slowly and gives bassist Valerian Burki a moment to shine. It leans more post than black, with some strong riffs that give the song groove and, if you’ll forgive a technical term, head-nod factor. “Un Sanctuaire de Cendres” is much more blackened than post, but when Fantine Schütz’s clean singing soars through the gloom, it’s a genuinely touching moment. Tremolos towards the end from guitarists Dominique Blanc and Kilian Caddoux counterbalance nicely with Valentin Boada’s frantic drumming, and here, the intersections work very well.

If I were to criticize one thing about Rituel : Initiation, it’s that the blended styles don’t allow for a ton of memorability. There are great moments throughout the five tracks—I’ve mentioned a few already, and want to highlight the slow march riffing around the midpoint of “Un Sanctuaire de Cendres” as well. But generally, Rituel : Initiation does not feel very strongly structured as an album. Songs, all but one over eleven minutes long, move from one idea to the next coherently and naturally, but in such a way as to evade hooks or moments of particular catchiness or impact. I always enjoy listening, but after the fifty-three minutes are done, I don’t have much impression of specific songs I liked; rather, it’s moments here and there that I know were early or late in the session. This makes sense of the style De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube play, but it also gives the impression of a dense album that I perhaps still need to spend more time with to truly crack.

Still, I like what De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube are doing here. Cold, regal, aggressive, anguished, and balanced on a knife’s edge—there’s some good metal here! As “Une Absolute Prèsence” builds to the album’s climactic end, I can’t help but be impressed. I wouldn’t have hated more editing—there’s a lot of metal here too—but too much of a good thing isn’t a bad thing. Rituel : Initiation is, in my mind, an exciting debut, the kind that speaks of genuine potential. Color me intrigued.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: danapostmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/dana.postmetal
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

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Aside from overall recording quality and songwriting polish—both of which have improved significantly over the course of seven years—Post Luctum are exactly as I remember, just more refined. Like a friend for whom time apart never creates a mire of awkwardness at the point of reunion, mastermind Ian Goetchius’ slow and steady despair rings with the same earnestness that made After Mourning such a striking proof of concept. At once, I feel comforted and warmed by Timor Lucis’ Slowed melodies, chilled by its Altars of Grief-like eulogy, and heartened by post-metallic touches that evoke hints of In Mourning or Latitudes. It’s a reliable sound that should be familiar to anyone who partakes of the funeral side of the doom spectrum, and Post Luctum applies it with poise and passion.

As the crooning cleans of “Approaching Light” give way to the lumbering march of the deadly “Shrouded by the Sea,” Timor Lucis envelops me in a kind of sorrow that pulls me into full immersion with an uncanny ease. Almost an autonomic response beyond my control, this immersion feels akin to immediacy in the context of this music, where memorability is found not so much in individual notes and compartmentalized verses, but rather in moods and moments of emotional significance. Even as songs gently coast from a desperate roar to a delicate breeze (“Sunken Fate” into “In Water”) to form notable highlights, I always recall the moment I heard it—where I was, what I felt, what visions these sonic waves summoned from my thoughts—more vividly than the music’s corporeal form. A different impression than what many artists design for their audience, this experience is its own kind of magic. Difficult to conjure and even trickier to master, Post Luctum struck the right balance of texture, timing, and feeling to invoke such magic and impose its power on my mind, revealing Timor Lucis’ greatest strength.

Curious, then, that once the final note fades into the ether, I struggle to find that pull which brings me back into Timor Lucis’ loving, tear-soaked embrace. As I continued my tenure with this record, I wondered if the root of that struggle was familiarity. Songs like “Disavowed,” “A Curse Now A Plague,” and “I Welcome In the Cold” reminded so strongly of the core of my funeral doom rotation (Slow, Un, Woebegone Obscured) that Post Luctum inadvertently guided me directly into their clutches, and I found myself forgetting about Timor Lucis. I realize now that this is the double-edged sword of the aforementioned strength this record holds. Immersive as it undoubtedly is, and as reliable as its writing is in achieving that immersion minute-to-minute, Timor Lucis simply isn’t bold enough as a distinct entity to draw me away from those acts it resembles with which I enjoy a deeper, more established relationship.

This dichotomy exposes one of the greatest challenges not just in reviewership, but also in songwriting from the perspective of the listener. A record is not made unworthy strictly because it is familiar, nor is my enjoyment of this material lessened by my personal history with the genre. Chances are good that I will return to Timor Lucis with a willing and eager heart over the course of the year. Equally, I acknowledge that it will never meaningfully challenge those records I deem the highest order in the style. On the other hand, you, the reader, might find this is your highest order. Regardless, Post Luctum deserves a chance to take you into its heart, and in the spirit of that truth, I offer my warm, albeit moderated, recommendation.

Rating: Good!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: postluctum.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/postluctum
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

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After a rousing, table-setting intro, you’re launched into “Witchking” and greeted by classic 80s guitar lines with a burly trve vibe sure to get your lust for battle growing. When Isak Neffling starts singing, those familiar with the Mercyful Fate demos and the original EP will hear a notable similarity to an early-day King Diamond. I don’t mean the high-pitched falsettos, but the ominous baritones he used regularly before he became a faux-evil cartoon character. One could also say Isak also reminds of The Night Eternal’s Ricardo Baum, who borrowed a lot from Mr. Diamond vocally himself. Either way, it makes for an interesting listen as Isak sings of Tolkien baddies, swords, and sorcery. “Excalibur” is all beef and chest-pounding bravado with a galloping pace, scrotal power to spare, and a chorus that feels just epic enough. It hits all the nostalgia bells and feels ancient as fook, but it can still beat your ass like a back-alley thug.

Elsewhere, “Exiled in Fire” is fast, fist-pumping classic metal with sweet guitar work and a rowdy, rough edge that takes me back to the dirty, unpolished NWoBHM days. “Shipwreck” is another riffy good time with a vague In Solitude vibe, and “White Wolf” is about as epic 80s metal as it gets without lapsing into Spinal Tap levels of parody. At a tight 40 minutes and with all songs contained in the 4-5 minute window, there’s not much fluff or blubber on the compositions. The only drawback is that the writing routinely sits in that “good and almost very good” pocket, never fully reaching that next level of badassery. It’s an easy, entertaining spin, but it won’t blow anyone’s mind or make many end-of-year lists. The production is painstakingly designed to sound rough and vintage, and it does hit that 1980-1982 aura with a warmth and texture that modern recordings often lack.

Gustav Harrysson and Teddy Edoff bring the sounds of proto and epic 80s metal to the Great Hall, cleaving closely to the NWoBHM blueprint but always injecting that grand and glorious edge to their playing. I hear many hints of early Mercyful Fate and Satan in their choices, and the Manilla Road-isms are there too. I don’t know if Isak Neffling was trying to channel King Diamond, but he certainly does, and that adds to the nostalgic appeal. Listen to “White Wolf,” and you hear the earliest days of Mercyful Fate, and that’s undeniably cool. His vocals don’t always work, though, and things get especially weird and awkward on “The Sorceress.” In toto, Isak gives Templar an X factor the band wouldn’t have otherwise, and that certainly works in their favor despite a few misfires.

Conquering Swords is an interesting and engaging debut from a band that have the potential to be much more. There are moments scattered across the album that hint at greatness, and maybe with more time and effort, those parts lead someplace special. As things stand, Templar are a good throwback band with one foot in the past and the other looking for the next place to stomp. Where they go from here will prove interesting. Worth checking out for the love of Diamond and rust(ed swords).

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Jawbreaker
Websites: facebook.com/templarsweden | instagram.com/templar.band
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

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