Drown - Subaqueous

By Master of Muppets. If space is mankind's final frontier, the ocean's depths must be something like the birthplace of the end. To some extent it is where life as we know it first began its misguided adventures on Earth, a plane of existence close to our hearts by evolutionary proxy

By Master of Muppets.

Artwork by Adam Burke/Nightjar Art.

If space is mankind's final frontier, the ocean's depths must be something like the birthplace of the end. To some extent it is where life as we know it first began its misguided adventures on Earth, a plane of existence close to our hearts by evolutionary proxy; in another sense it is a world of its own which exists entirely beyond our grasp, elusive and magical in its indomitable vastness. It's a fantastical realm where the cold realities of science and the infinite possibilities of the imagination walk hand in hand into the dark, and many artists have attempted to turn this world we cannot see into something we can hear instead. One-man metal manufacturing monster Markov Soroka (Tchornobog, Aureole, Krukh) more than meets this challenge through the massive, immersive music of Drown; it turns out that the crushing darkness of funeral doom provides a perfect tonal palette for painting the depths of our oceans into a vivid soundscape, and Subaqueous - Soroka's sophomore slab of sea-centric slow-burners - is a beautifully merciless rendering of such a scene, one that you have zero business missing out on.

The point of this genre is to create something that stifles and swallows the listener, and where better to do that than at the bottom of the ocean? Soroka seizes this sonic potential to further a tale that began with Drown's debut, Unsleep, chronicling the drowning of an unnamed protagonist and drawing it out into a collection of aquatic metaphors and tempestuous funeral doom. Purveyors of such aren't known for being particularly sympathetic to the attention spans or time restraints of others, and Drown is no exception. Subaqueous is divided into two colossal tracks, the first of which ("Drowned VI: Mother Cetacean") boasts a duration just shy of 22 minutes while the second ("Drowned VII: Father Subaqueous") clocks in a few seconds over that mark. Both songs cultivate their own mood and atmosphere, achieving a perfect foil relationship along the way, yet the pair are equal in terms of sheer oppressive lethality.

At first blush, "...Mother Cetacean" is the gentler of the two, ushering in its chapter with a serene dance of reverberant atmospherics and gently coruscating guitars. Just as bioluminescence and the pale sheen of pigmentation's absence color the watery deep, a deceptively blithe melody dances along a current of subterranean tone and sustain, instilling the surrounding dark with a sense of vibrancy. However, the dance is deceptive in these dangerous depths - this is the bottom of the ocean, after all; despite the almost jocular nature of "...Mother Cetacean", it is still funeral doom. Guttural bellows and thunderous distortion are interwoven into the ebullience with fluid cohesion, maintaining a delicate balance of wonder and unease perfectly befitting the ocean's floor. Here there is violent life playing a deadly game, and what fleeting light can be found offers just as little in the way of safety as the shadows that linger further beyond in the pitch black hostility of "...Father Subaqueous".

The second, titular half of Subaqueous makes no attempt to convey, promote or else harbor life of any kind; "...Father Subaqueous" is pitiless and unforgiving, a masterful manifestation of the inhospitable realm of pressure and darkness that lurks beneath us all. Here, the growls become ungodly shrieks, and the churning low end rumbling of the guitars has erupted into a monolithic expanse of unbridled fury. There is nothing playful or pleasant here, only a 22 minute view of the screaming maw of the void. Though it is unclear to this reviewer just what exactly might be happening to the story's protagonist at this particular point, it is all but certainly all but unbearable. Where "...Mother Cetacean" brings us somewhere new by incorporating elements which are almost diametrically opposed to funeral doom's customary bleakness, "...Father Subaqueous" harnesses every bit of incessant wrath known to the genre then dials things up to 11 with a splash of black metal.

Unlike mankind and the oceans that make our invasion of this planet possible, the two tracks which comprise Subaqueous exist in perfect harmony with each other. In the simplest of terms, "...Mother Cetacean" captures the essence of life and light amidst the deepest reaches of said oceans, while "...Father Subaqueous" levels out the album with death and darkness. For an offering rooted in a genre that defies the notion of moderation, Subaqueous is a thing of perfect balance. If funeral-at-sea doom sounds like it'll float your boat and you have 45 minutes to spare - and, frankly, that's a good chunk of us these days - then give Subaqueous a spin. It is well worth your time, and it has already jumped to the top of my personal favorite albums from 2020 thus far.

Black Curse - Endless Wound

By Bryan Camphire. Speaking about death metal, in an interview with MTV back in 1991, Morbid Angel front man David Vincent offered this opinion, "It's the extremity of it. Death metal is the the most extreme form of music there is. There are no boundaries." Some three decades later

By Bryan Camphire.

Artwork by Denis Forkas Kostromitin.

Speaking about death metal, in an interview with MTV back in 1991, Morbid Angel front man David Vincent offered this opinion, "It's the extremity of it. Death metal is the the most extreme form of music there is. There are no boundaries." Some three decades later, how bands can continue to push boundaries in a genre where there never were any to begin with... this is what keeps rabid fans coming back for more. With Endless Wound, Black Curse has made one of the more extreme new death metal records you are liable to hear this year. This quartet from Denver, Colorado achieves this by focusing on heaviness, atmosphere, and riffs.

The heaviness Black Curse brings to the table is thanks to ferocious playing and a monstrous production. This music is full throttle right out of the gate. Every instrument nearly in the red and yet somehow a level of clarity is maintained. Each voice is distinct in the whirling blackened din. The smoldering low end sounds almost completely untethered, making it the perfect vessel for the searing solos and wailing vocals the band scatters on top.

As far as ambiance goes, the band themselves put it like this: "to those who have drawn down the moon, joined in darkness in worlds without end, BLACK CURSE unfolds its evil." In this one sentence displayed on their site, the band name-checks three seminal records of extreme metal by Beherit, Demoncy and Katharsis respectively. Indeed, Endless Wound can be seen as carrying the torch along these lines and into the present. The harrowing use of delay on the vocals - made infamous by Katharsis - is the most overt homage that Black Curse deploys. The band's bio goes on to say, "The band rips open holy portals to times when Black and Death Metal shared the same principles, the same aesthetics, and the same diabolical wrath." The statement holds true. The atmosphere of Endless Wound is pure nocturnal evil, plain and simple. It's at once a hymn to the ancients and their own unique sacrificial offering.

All this might not amount to much if not for the riffs, and Endless Wound has them in no short supply. The record is as calculated as it is aggressive. The band weaponizes tempo. At a cursory listen, their unrelenting sound resembles bestial war metal along the lines of modern masters like Diocletian, Deiphago, and Teitanblood. However, after breakneck starts, as the tracks wage onward, tempos are often slowed to half-time, as can be seen two and a half minutes into track 1, and again two minutes into track 3 and track 6, and again five minutes into cut 7. It's a formula that doesn't get tired on repeated listens because the riffs are so catchy and massive. Other tracks stay fast or mid-paced throughout. It's this use of rhythmic dynamics that really makes these songs memorable and spell-binding.

This is music as a living raging force, threatening to jump off the rails around each hairpin turn it races past. On their debut full length, Black Curse bulldozes through any strictures of orthodoxy, laying waste to boundaries between black and death, old school and new. All this is done in the name of evil unfolded.

Witch Mountain - Mobile of Angels

By Megan Scottie Ross. Heavy metal has evolved so much in the forty-four years of its existence that it's all too easy to forget about our roots. With every blast beat and sweep arpeggio, we get further from the dirt that we rose out of, and that dirt is richer than just “rock and roll.”

By Megan Scottie Ross.


Heavy metal has evolved so much in the forty-four years of its existence that it's all too easy to forget about our roots. With every blast beat and sweep arpeggio, we get further from the dirt that we rose out of, and that dirt is richer than just “rock and roll.” That soil of emotion and tension that was necessary for a genre as extreme as metal to arise was The Blues. So when I hear an album that digs into that foundation and turns up the rich, rich loam of blues music I immediately take notice. Mobile of Angels by Portland, Oregon's Witch Mountain is such an album. In fact, one could call Mobile of Angels a blues album just as easily as a doom metal one. Whatever genre lense you choose to view the album through, however, it is phenomenal.

Witch Mountain 2012. Photo © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

The album isn't long, with only five songs and clocking in just under thirty-nine minutes. Amazingly in that thirty-nine minutes the band never repeats itself. These songs just don't have any traditional verse structure. Rob Wrong spins out amazing solos, and the guitar tone reminds me why a big ol' stack of guitar amps is such a desirable thing. Charles Thompson's bass keeps the sound amazingly fat—these guys aren't detuning to Drop-X, they're just putting pure blues into a heavy metal frame. Nathan Carson in particular impresses. Slow drumming is, in a number of ways, harder than fast drumming. When you're flying along with blasts and double bass, who really cares about your tom work or your cymbal tone? When you're going slow, every stroke is going to be heard. You can listen to this album just focusing on what Nathan does with cymbals and your time will still be well spent.

Witch Mountain 2012. Photo © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

I'm tempted to say that vocalist Uta Plotkin is the star of the show, as her incredibly expressive voice is an essential part of what makes these songs, but that would be unfair to the rest of the band. Still, she sounds so much more comfortable singing these songs than she did on Cauldron of the Wild, an album that, while not bad, didn't stand out to me among the many other doom releases in 2012. Not this time. The songs dig in and catch you. The start-stop of “Psycho Animundi.” The almost spoken-word beginning of “Can't Settle.” Everything here sounds intensely personal in a way that heavy metal often lacks. “Your Corrupt Ways (Sour the Hymn),” the longest track and centrepiece of the album, in particular highlights this with lyrics like this:

I will wish you all of the best
As I walk away and relish
The sweet relief that I will feel
When I finally put my heels down.

The final two tracks are a bit different. The title track, half as long as the next longest song at only three and a half minutes, is a single drum beat away from being a witch house track. The leslie-drenched organ is absolutely haunting as Uta promises “Oh Dreamer, waking brings no comfort.” The album closer “The Shape Truth Takes” goes back to guitars, drums, and bass, but it's melancholy waltz instead of a gritty doom slammer like “Psycho Animundi.” The song hits an emotional climax that I haven't heard the likes of since Ihsahn's “Undercurrent.” The way the band builds the tension and emotion of the song using tone and volume is just phenomenal. When the guitar solo comes in it always brings tears to my eyes. “The Shape Truth Takes” isn't just the perfect song to close the album, but to close a chapter of the band's existence. It's fitting that this is the last thing that we'll ever hear from this version of Witch Mountain is a song this sad, as Uta Plotkin left the band to pursue other endeavours. I don't envy whoever ends up replacing her in the band, as they will have absolutely massive shoes to fill.

Witch Mountain 2012. Photo © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

Nearly every time I listen to Mobile of Angels, I immediately restart the album as soon as it's ended. Jumping from “The Shape Truth Takes” back to “Psycho Animundi” is always jarring, but within a few bars I'm back in the music. It's exceptionally rare for me to get so hooked on an album these days that I play it exclusively twice or even three times in a row. With Mobile of Angels it happens nearly every time. I don't know what more to say other than that you should be listening to it right now. You'll never get the next thirty-nine minutes of your life back. You won't regret spending them on Mobile of Angels.

Elder - Omens

By Calen Henry. Omens’ cover, by long-time Elder artist Adrian Dexter, seems at first blush a curious departure from Reflections of a Floating World or Lore’s fantastic, vibrant landscapes; a simple broken statue wreathed in fog. A closer look at a larger version reveals details of the statue lost in smaller renderings.

By Calen Henry.

Artwork by Adrian Dexter.

Omens’ cover, by long-time Elder artist Adrian Dexter, seems at first blush a curious departure from Reflections of a Floating World or Lore’s fantastic, vibrant landscapes; a simple broken statue wreathed in fog. A closer look at a larger version reveals details of the statue lost in smaller renderings. It’s crumbling and overgrown with moss. Much less of a departure from the rugged, surreal landscapes that formed the focus of earlier albums than it first looks. Still a surreal still life of nature. This time after humanity, rather than before.

The album itself makes a similarly deceptive first impression. Where Reflections of a Floating World and Lore each led with massive riffs (like the one that just started playing in your head), Omens gently unfurls with ethereal keys. It sounds almost like a different band, one unconcerned with immediately grabbing the listener. And why should it be? Elder have nothing to prove. Since 2015 they’ve been deep down a sound rabbit-hole anchored by singer/guitarist Nick DiSalvo’s unique droning riffs and spiraling leads. They are light years ahead of any other stoner rock, a genre in which they only fit by association at this point. On top of that, even within their unique sound they've never made the same record twice. From Dead Roots Stirring each album has moved towards closer towards progressive rock while always maintaining their signature riffing.

After a few listens Omens fits into the Elder catalog. It's easy to hear how the softer elements from The Gold & Silver Sessions blend with the big riffs and circuitous leads. Despite the fit within Elder canon, the approach on Omens isn’t without risk. It’s a much gentler album than any before it. The guitar fuzz is toned back, making the HiWatt amp driven sound even more Pink Floyd-ian, accompanied by keys that are far more prevalent and varied. Reflections of a Floating World flirted with keys, mostly the iconic Mellotron patch “3 violins”, and sometimes slightly awkwardly. Here the keys are woven completely into the compositions giving the album a classic prog rock sound to which the band never fully committed before.

Obviously Omens was recorded before the global pandemic, but this calmer version of Elder is a perfect counterpoint to all the stresses we're coping with. The record ebbs and flows naturally, polishing the harder edges of older releases while still maintaining Elder's almost mystical ability to structure long songs so they feel short and are constantly engaging. It's even mastered more dynamically than before (DR 8), making it a warm, easy-to-listen-to proggy blanket in which to wrap yourself and ride things out. It's the perfect version of Elder for right now.

Riff Spreader Best of February-March

[At the Metal Bandcamp international headquarters the quarantine days blur into each other and everything is running late. But over on Twitter Riff Spreader has been very busy, and here's 15 of his best picks from February and March. As always there's no fash trash. Just righteous riffs.]

[At the Metal Bandcamp international headquarters the quarantine days blur into each other and everything is running late. But over on Twitter Riff Spreader has been very busy, and here's 15 of his best picks from February and March. As always there's no fash trash. Just righteous riffs.]

Artwork by Sludgework

Thankfully antifascist blackgaze band Awenden's new album Golden Hour came through on time. Got around to listening to the full album and while yes, there are blackgaze elements here, there’s also a hefty dose of killer death doom. Way more prevalent than in their debut. I’m really into this.

Melodic black metal from China that incorporates Chinese folk instrumentals with searing riffs and bad ass solos. Did I mention the vocals are great? This kills.

Artwork by Timmmnnn

Oh my, and I cannot stress this enough, GOD. This Nebulium EP Grow is fucking killer. Progressive death metal from the gods.

Just discovered this Widziadło album from a few years ago. This is stellar atmospheric/cosmic black metal.

Artwork by Trez Laforge

Oh shit, Feminazgul just dropped a new album! And.. it's so good.

Artwork by Margoat

Olhava released a new album today that’s probably going to end up being one of the best, if not the best, blackgaze albums of the year.

Artwork by Misanthropic Art.

This Atavisma/Void Rot split from Everlasting Spew Records is just one stellar release among many from this killer label. While you're buying this (you fucking better), peruse the rest of their catalog for several (death) metal gems.

Begotten does DSBM with punk-influenced riffs. Really, really good shit here.

Artwork by Adam Burke.

The new Rotting Kingdom album A Deeper Shade of Sorrow came out today. This is top shelf death doom that you should not sleep on.

Artwork by Tom is the Bastard.

There’s a new 2 song 7” from Ancst and I don’t have to tell you it’s good. Ancst is a b(r)and you can trust. Bit of a different vibe from these guys on this one. I like the branching out. Plus it’s probably the sharpest sounding they’ve been.

Artwork by Al Woody/Healing Ways Artistry.

Native American raw black metal with reverb drenched tormented screams. "Dedicated to all the indigenous people of this brown continent, from the north to the south to the east and the west."

Artwork by Valeria Metsker/Blood Art.

Skam slaps so fucking hard. This is one of those times when I go "oh right, THAT’S why I got into grindcore!"

Is Violet Cold going to be the first black metal band on the radio? Some of this is straight up EDM pop. And by the way it's really fucking good.

Found some stellar antifascist blackgaze by It Only Ends Once. There’s a lot of screamo/skramz influence here, but it also has that DSBM strain running through it that makes it distinctly black metal. Plus fuck fascists.

I’ve been trying to tell y’all that Hagetisse was legit. The new album The Seven Sorrows of the Virgin is next level hypnotic, violent black metal.

Errant - Errant

By Justin C. O.K., I’m not even gonna pretend I’m not a big fan of Immortal Bird (see, for example, here and here). So when I found out vocalist Rae Amitay was doing a solo project, I expected to like it. Sure, she could have done an album of deathcore-stye Prince covers that might have been hard to learn to love, but I had higher expectations.

By Justin C.


O.K., I'm not even gonna pretend I'm not a big fan of Immortal Bird (see, for example, here and here). So when I found out vocalist Rae Amitay was doing a solo project, I expected to like it. Sure, she could have done an album of deathcore-stye Prince covers that might have been hard to learn to love, but I had higher expectations.

Her self-titled album errant does not disappoint. Playing all the instruments, she brings the fire, feeling, and pathos from Immortal Bird, but shows it to us from a different angle. Album opener "The Amorphic Burden" starts on a subdued, doomy note, but it's not long before the song explodes into a very satisfying, full-tilt riff accompanied by Amitay's unmistakable rasps and growls. Not content to stop there, the song morphs again into an almost sunny-sounding, blackgaze vibe. It's a four-and-a-half minute song with at least three distinct movements. Pretty much what you'd expect from someone of Amitay's compositional skills. (And of course, Amitay still knows her way around a drum kit, throwing in a little off-kilter rhythm here and there to spice things up.)

The second track, "A Vacillant Breath," answered the question I immediately had when I heard about this project: Will Amitay do clean vocals? She does indeed, and she does them extremely well. Not long after I heard this track for the first time, I made a pandemic-terror-run to the grocery store and heard Heart's "These Dreams" over the store's sound system. The fact that I could hear a bit of the Wilson sisters' in Amitay's voice should say a lot about just how good her singing is. (This is also my humble request for a Heart cover on her next album.) The lyrics of "A Vacillant Breath" are a tour through a personal hell of self-loathing, with lines like "If there is a method to hide how deeply I have failed / I've yet to learn it,", but the emotion laid bare in both the clean and harsh vocals elevate the track well above a mere inventory of misery.

She may not cover Heart this time around, but we do get a cover of Failure's excellent track "Saturday Savior." If you don't know Failure, that's understandable because they never got the attention they deserved, but let this cover be an introduction. Amitay does a pitch-perfect take on Ken Andrews's vocals, and although the track isn't as ferocious as the EP's other three songs, the mood it sets is a fitting closure to a damn-near perfect debut. I want more of this. A lot more. Please?

Déhà - A fleur de peau - I - There Is No Home

By Master of Muppets. Single track albums can be a bit of a tough sell. Attention spans being something of an endangered species, the shuffle button rules over many with an iron fist and the idea of committing more than 3 minutes of one's life to a single song is tantamount to lunacy these days.

By Master of Muppets.


Single track albums can be a bit of a tough sell. Attention spans being something of an endangered species, the shuffle button rules over many with an iron fist and the idea of committing more than 3 minutes of one's life to a single song is tantamount to lunacy these days. So it goes, yet - surprise, surprise - sometimes artists don't particularly care about what you want when they're making things, and sometimes artists do make things which defy today's patience deprived listening climate; Déhà's A Fleur de Peau - I - There is No Home is one of those things. It may not necessarily be your thing, but if it turns out that it is then trust me: it's really gonna be your thing.

Just what kind of thing is that? For starters, A Fleur de Peau is, obviously, a single track album. Sure, it's presented as 'Parts I - VI', with said chapters being given titles and everything, yet this 41 minute ride is solely offered as one cohesive listening experience: if you want to listen to any of it, you're listening to all of it. In the name of full disclosure, I'll also confess that if you've heard some of A Fleur de Peau, you've heard most of it: the track/suite/album largely operates around one core melody, sustained for the entirety of its duration. A Fleur de Peau is a single moment in time stretched out into something sprawling and unforgiving, it does not care about your feelings or your attention span, aside from its mission to strangle the former and bleed the latter dry. As I've stated, this album is not for everyone, but if it's for you it's likely really for you.

Just who is this thing for, anyway? In a word: me. In a few more words: fans of NONE, Vvilderness and Unreqvited. There is no happiness to be heard amidst these shrieks and tremolo-picked guitars, and though the atmosphere that Déhà has created here is as cold and jagged as it gets, it is also tender, wounded in its own right. At its core, A Fleur de Peau is atmospheric black metal of the DSBM variety, with slight traces of sludge mixed in to keep things properly oppressive. Clean, brooding guitars get things started and occasionally resurface along the way, but by and large this soundscape is awash with distortion and screams, a world of sheer despair. Unbridled agony and a plea for its cessation is what Déhà has for us today, and if you haven't been scared off yet it's likely that you've arrived at the doorstep of your musical home.

Normally I'd have more things to say at this point in a review, but ordinarily I'd also have more songs to discuss and these are not normal times, so I don't… Or do I? I really don't, but Déhà does: while you're at his Bandcamp page, check out the recently released Just Stay at Home single posted there. Apparently Déhà hates COVID-19 just as much as the rest of us, his gripes just sound better. Written as a means to vent his own frustrations regarding the coronapocalypse, eventually the track will find a home on a future Déhà album, provided The Great Toilet Paper Famine doesn't kill us all, but for now it's as good a way as any to channel your disgust as we ride out this pandemic in isolated solidarity. Honestly, if blackened post hardcore decrying a plagued humanity doesn't isn't what the doctor ordered, then frankly your doctor sucks.

A Fleur de Peau is, for the millionth time, not for everyone. It is not for the deficient of attention, nor is it for the casual black metal fan. Those without patience or a penchant for pure, pummeling pessimism will find little to love here - and that's just fine. However, those listeners whose tastes dwell in darkness and dream of the end are likely to find something to be cherished in these 40-some minutes, a haunted and hateful home of their own.