“The best things in life often happen organically. Temptress began in 2019 in Dallas, Texas, as three friends casually jamming together, and they had enough natural chemistry to decide to take their alluring stoner doom to the studio. Like someone who is well-versed in the art of seduction, they appear to be working their way through each of the five senses. Their debut full-length, see, was born in 2023, but now the time has come to close your eyes and hear what Temptress has conjured up for their sophomore record.” hear in the now.
Messa
AngryMetalGuy.com’s Aggregated Top 20 Albums o’ 2025
You read all the lists, but nothing prepared you for THIS! Behold AngryMetalGuy.com’s Aggregated Top 20 Albums o’ 2025 and despair!
Kenstrosity’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025
Kenstrosity’s 2025 was a crazy year! He’s here to reflect, write Oscar-length thank you lists, and regale you with a list that’s devious in its intricacies!
Saunders and Dear Hollow’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025
Saunders and Dear Hollow bring their high class tastes to the party with their Top Ten(ish) of 2025. Break out the caviar and meths!
Sentynel’s and Twelve’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025
Sentynel and Twelve hit the streets with their Top Ten(ish) of 2025. You should read all about them.
Dolphin Whisperer’s and Thus Spoke’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025
Dolphin Whisper and Thus Spoke get their time to shine with their Top Ten(ish) of 2025. Brace for weirdness!
Tyme’s and Killjoy’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025
Tyme and Killjoy bring their Top ten(ish) lists to the public without fear or shame. Was that wise?
Alekhines Gun’s, ClarkKent’s and Owlswald’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025
Alekhines Gun, ClarkKent and Owlswald came out of the deep freeze to have a busy 2025. Now they get Big Boy Top Ten(ish) lists and things are getting real.
Who Are These Clowns and Where Did They Put My Flesh Stapler? The AMG Staff Pick Their Top Ten(ish) of 2025
The AMG Staff Lists are ready for review, examination, and ultimately, rejection.
Record(s) o’ the Month – April 2025
“April is the cruellest month,” wrote T.S. Eliot in a poem that no one quoting it has ever finished reading. And while Eliot was quite metal in his exquisite, existential despair about WWI or whatever, he never understood true existential dread. I speak, of course, of the dread of being force-fed twenty-five promising albums, half of which are drenched in so much reverb that you feel like you’re swimming, only to realize that you didn’t even review the Record o’ the Month yourself
























