Yob - Our Raw Heart

By Matt Hinch. I talked to Yob frontman Mike Scheidt once. (OK, twice. But the second time was only for a minute or so.) We didn't even talk about Yob, or even metal really. We talked about our kids and parenting them. It was obvious to me that, as any decent parent should, Mike loves his kids.

By Matt Hinch.

Artwork by Orion Landau.

I talked to Yob frontman Mike Scheidt once. (OK, twice. But the second time was only for a minute or so.) We didn't even talk about Yob, or even metal really. We talked about our kids and parenting them. It was obvious to me that, as any decent parent should, Mike loves his kids. I even think he mentioned how hard it was to be away from them when on tour. So one can only imagine how hard it was for him thinking he might leave them forever as he battled a severe intestinal disease last year. He fought hard enough to survive and once you hear Our Raw Heart you could even say he thrived.

Drawing inspiration from a life or death battle can lead to a powerful album and let me tell you, powerful doesn't even begin to describe Our Raw Heart. The album title itself is a perfect description of the journey the listener takes on this superb album. In experiencing ORH (and/or seeing Mike's ordeal unfold on social media) his heart becomes our heart and the emotions expressed are as raw as they can get.

On another level even the “our” part could be seen as an expression of the band itself. It wasn't just their bandmate fighting for life, it was their friend. I'd like to think that shared struggle plays into the wholeness one feels on what should easily be considered the band's best album to date.

ORH is a masterwork from beginning to end. From the martial chug of “The Screen” to the funereal pace of “Lungs Reach” to the overwhelming title track to the quietude and beauty of “Beauty in Falling Leaves” and every moment in between Mike, bassist Aaron Rieseberg, and drummer Travis Foster keep the listener completely enthralled. Or at least they should be. Yob has been getting progressively better with each album anyway as the band and its members continue to mature so this should come as no surprise. Personally Atma cemented my fandom, Clearing the Path to Ascend was so good I want a tattoo of the cover, and somehow ORH takes things beyond that level of adoration through a continued evolution of their sound.

I doubt a vocal instructor would call Mike's singing voice “great” but it's honest, raw, and expressive. It works for him in all his many endeavours though and especially in Yob. I don't see how anything or anyone else could make it work in quite the same, effective way. Deep, fierce growls are at more of a premium here but as the method of musical doom-bringing varies so do the vocals. From the subterranean to the stratospheric, they are the emotional pulse of the album. They convey the needed emotion without being moody. It all starts with “Ablaze” and his husky, weathered throat now bearing new battle scars representing the very scathed nature of survival at all costs.

Lyrically the album is cryptic enough and not too linear which lets the listener interpret it in their own way, applying those words to their own situation. Or one could put oneself in Mike's shoes and feel what he felt as much as you can. A particular line in “Beauty in Falling Leaves” brings maximum heft (which I'll get to in a minute”) but something as simple as “Rise!” from “The Screen” means so much more when put into context.

Yob 2016. Photos by Webzine Chuul.

The entire album can be considered typical Yob at this point as a varied mix of tones, paces, and volumes all play into their sound. ORH is no exception to this despite not feeling quite as dark overall. Aggressive, yes. But somewhat lighter. “Ablaze” falls into the “punishing doom laced with melody” category, as does the title track. As tough as these tracks can feel the human emotion always shines through in the interplay between darkness and the light. “Our Raw Heart” mines a heavy riff the same as “Ablaze”, letting melody and atmosphere fill out the sonic space.

“In Reverie” and “Lungs Reach” fill in the slower end of the cadence spectrum. The former never really breaking faster than a brain-crushing slog while conveying a good message in the lyric “The sun rises still”. No matter what happens to you or I the world keeps turning, so keep fighting to see it break the horizon day after day. The latter is even more funereal with more distinct atmosphere, growls, and a tone so heavy it will shake the wax right out of your ears.

“Original Face” tears it up! A hard drive is tempered ever so slightly by a hypnotic, rhythmic sway. It's a powerful assault on the senses that never lets up. It's kind of punch in the gut after “Beauty in Falling Leaves” from a vibe perspective but not an unnecessary one.

No doubt by now, I hope, you've already heard “The Screen” and its martial riff parade. It's mean and chunky and “holy shit!” heavy. But even it attains lift off to soar far above the earthly plane. It's kind of an odd choice for the lead single but perhaps they just didn't want to play their hand too early.

So now that I've talked about every other song let's tackle the album's high water mark, “Beauty in Falling Leaves”. Put the title in context. If you thought you were going to die wouldn't you find untold beauty in the seemingly mundane? Now take that sort of awe and apply it to a song. This song. This breathtaking expression of emotion. If “Marrow” brought you to tears, as it has so many, be prepared for heavier waterworks. Mike's expressiveness on this track reaches new heights. The melodies are entrancing and the subdued heaviness sits like lead on the heart.

Yob really work dynamics to full effect on this one. The quieter, minimal sounding verses prime the emotional pump for when the choruses hit and blow the whole thing wide open. It feels like there are multiple climaxes as every bit of feeling is wrung out of both the performers and the listener. The clincher is the line “Your heart brings me home”. No matter who you are that statement perfectly sums up the will to live. It carries hope. It signifies that one thing worth living for. Love. Yob is love after all, and something that meaningful in a Yob song is almost too much to bear.

To think that this album could easily have never happened at all is a heavy thought. Instead, Mike won and Our Raw Heart is the result. It's immense. It's heartbreaking. It's inspiring. Every band has their ultimate masterpiece (Emphasis on ultimate. Yob has more than one masterpiece.) and Our Raw Heart is it. If the Oregon trio manages to continue getting better after this I don't know what I'll do. I only have so much money and so much skin to cover. Honestly, I hope they do. In the meantime, the Yob legacy lives on in our raw hearts. And remember, YOB IS LOVE. So love Yob.

Usnea - Portals into Futility

By Justin C. I've been digging Usnea since they're self-titled debut, but when prepping to write the review for their newest, Portals into Futility, I started to notice how often they've gotten tagged with as funeral doom.

By Justin C.


I've been digging Usnea since they're self-titled debut, but when prepping to write the review for their newest, Portals into Futility, I started to notice how often they've gotten tagged as funeral doom. It's not 100% off the mark--the band does their fair share of slow and low--but it's also a bit of a disservice. I know a lot of people don't have the taste for funeral doom, and I wonder if that genre tag hasn't turned some people off from a pretty unique band.

Encylopaedia Metallum currently lists them as "Blackened Funeral Doom Metal," which is a bit better (although that phrase desperately needs some punctuation). Adding "blackened" helps, but it still misses a lot of good parts, like the sludginess, the churn, the atmosphere, and the melodicism. Funeral doom works to extract as much feeling as possible out of a minimalist framework, but Usnea has so many layers going on.

Photos by Pedro Roque.

If you're familiar with the band's last album, Random Cosmic Violence, you'll have a good feel of what to expect. I'd say Portals into Futility is more of a refinement than a leap forward, but there's nothing wrong with that. The blackened shrieks over the doomy atmosphere are still my favorite ear-tickling combo from this band. The blackened vocals remind me a bit of Charlie Fell during his Lord Mantis days, and those are some of my favorite blackened vocals, period. They both just scratch every itch I have. With Usnea, they're also paired with some low death growls and even the occasional chanting.

I think one of the best things Usnea did on this album was to split it into five songs instead of four. That sounds a little weird, but let me explain: They've been eerily consistent with album length--55, 58, and 56 minutes, in that order--but breaking four songs into five has given them better control over the ebb and flow of their music. "Lathe of Heaven" is, by long-form doom standards, a tasty little slice at just over 9 minutes, but the push and pull is done perfectly. A contemplative opening builds slowly into a more menacing churn, almost a slow thrash, accompanied by those low growls. Intensity builds, the blackened howls kick in, and then the song pulls back again. And everybody's contributing something here. You've heard of a walking bass line in jazz? The later part of "Lathe" has what I'd call a "menacing bass line." Similar idea to a walking bass line, but more evil, and completely hypnotizing.

Photos by Pedro Roque.

At this point, you might say, "Justin, you're an idiot. I see that 19-minute-long song at the end. You’ve tried to trick us." You're right (about the song length and possibly about me being an idiot), but the band's restraint earlier in the album is what makes "A Crown of Desolation" possible as a massive album closer. You've got chanting, strangled screams, ethereal bass and guitar, and even a gnarly, blues-y riff thrown in, and it all works. The band has refined their songwriting to the point where they can let all these disparate elements breathe but still combine them into a coherent song, and they haven’t worn you out with a bunch of 15-minute or more songs beforehand, so you can still appreciate what they’ve done.

I'll be honest: At first, I thought Portals was a bit too much of a retread of Random Cosmic Violence, but the more I listened, the more I found that I liked. If any of the multitude of genre tags that's been applied to them appeal to you, you owe it to yourself to give this one a fair shake.

Amorphis - Tales from the Thousand Lakes

By Nate Garrett. On their second full-length album Tales from the Thousand Lakes, Finnish band Amorphis crafted an ambitious concept album based on Kalevala, the national epic of their home country. Twenty-three years after its release, it remains a staple of forward-thinking death metal.

By Nate Garrett.

Cover art by Sjlvain Bellemare.

On their second full-length album Tales from the Thousand Lakes, Finnish band Amorphis crafted an ambitious concept album based on Kalevala, the national epic of their home country. Twenty-three years after its release, it remains a staple of forward-thinking death metal.

Opening track "Thousand Lakes" is an instrumental written and performed by then-newest member of the band, keyboardist Kasper Mårtenson. Tales From The Thousand Lakes’ cover painting is a transportive piece of art that evokes a frigid, haunting atmosphere, and this piano-driven intro is the sonic realization of that vibe. Furthermore, the epic poem on which the album is based begins with a creation myth, and when a chorus of bells enters to signal the end of the introduction and beginning of the album itself, it indeed feels as though this is the genesis of something awe-inspiring.

The song "Into Hiding" immediately showcases the band’s utilization of emotive single-note melodies. Throughout the album, these leads soar above the chord progressions of the rhythm section and elevate each song to a level of archetypal familiarity. In more recent years, this approach to lead guitar in songwriting has been used to great effect by fellow Finns Hooded Menace (more atonal, less melodic), and contemporary neighbors Kvelertak (more rock n roll, less traditional folk). Another element introduced by this song is the addition of clean singing. The clean vocals are introduced gradually and are an acquired taste, but once the initial shock has subsided they do enhance the album. Two tracks in, the band has already implemented piano, synth, and operatic vocals, things that were either nonexistent or used sparingly on previous releases. It’s already clear that Amorphis are intent on traversing new territory on this record.

Amorphis 2015. Photos by Dvergir

"The Castaway" features more memorable leads, this time being played in unison by guitar and synth. The verse riff is among the catchiest on the album, and the chorus is as majestic and beautiful as the constraints of death metal will allow. On this tune, Amorphis dip their toes into some elements of doom metal, but they don’t fully dive in until the next song, aptly titled "First Doom". This track is among the album’s heaviest, and one of only two songs that features original lyrics (the rest are traditional, taken from the aforementioned Kalevala). Next is "Black Winter Day", which features more prominent synth and operatic singing. The tone of the album has been firmly established at this point, so the return of the keys and clean vocals is welcome and no longer jarring.

The rest of the album continues upon this course. Guitar and synth leads intertwine above powerful, familiar chord progressions. Savage death metal vocals dominate, but occasionally give way to dramatic singing. The entire affair unfolds and echoes with a dark, chilling quality. Amorphis begin to take even more chances toward the last couple of songs. This culminates in a couple of left-field passages in closing track "Magic and Mayhem", that reside somewhere between industrial, techno, and dance music. If I had to pinpoint a weak point in the album, I suppose this would be it. However, as out of place as it may be, I still enjoy it.

Any band that takes chances in order to evolve and remain fresh will inevitably face criticism for it. Metallica were called sellouts as early as the introduction of acoustic guitar on Ride the Lightning. Fortunately, great bands will always take risks. In all likelihood, Amorphis knew they would alienate death metal purists by making an album like Tales from the Thousand Lakes. Fortunately they didn’t let that stop them from recording a thrilling, one-of-a-kind masterpiece that the rest of us can still enjoy over two decades later.

Nate plays in Spirit Adrift and Gatecreeper.

Ex Eye - Ex Eye

By Justin C. This one's a bit of a treat for me to write up, because as a former sax player myself, I've long been an admirer of Colin Stetson's playing. You can hear all manner of his

By Justin C.


This one's a bit of a treat for me to write up, because as a former sax player myself, I've long been an admirer of Colin Stetson's playing. You can hear all manner of his weird and wonderful sounds at his own Bandcamp. The fact that he's gathered together a band, Ex Eye, that's heavy enough (or at least, using my term, metal adjacent™ enough) for Relapse to release their self-titled debut is pretty exciting.

Stetson contributes both alto and bass sax on this album. No, that wasn't a typo--I mean bass sax, not baritone. There's a performance video of the album's opener, "Xenolith; The Anvil," on Bandcamp, and that metal behemoth you see around Stetson's neck is a bass sax, which is what happens if you light some candles and leave an alto sax and a tuba alone to mate. Most people don't know it's a thing at all, and there aren't many who specialize in it. A decent chunk of the bass-y thunder you'll hear in "Xenolith" is a result of that sax and the synths mixed in. And although this is an instrumental album, but you might be fooled at times. Some of the human/animal-like sounds you'll hear halfway through "Xenolith" are also coming from that sax.

The opener has almost a 70s, proggy feel to it, but the next track, "Opposition/Perihelion; The Coil" shows that Stetson isn't averse to using more intricate "sheets of sound," a term coined by reviewers of John Coltrane's overwhelming soloing in the late 50s. It's a lot to take in at first, but it's best to just let the intricate arpeggios wash over you until a moodier, sparser sound arrives halfway through the song, letting the synths, drums, and guitars shine through with the sax dancing in the background. As if knowing that might have pushed you passed your recommended daily allowance of ALL THE NOTES, the next track, "Anaitis Hymnal; The Arkose Disc" starts with a gentler, more mystical vibe, although that vibe gets a shot of adrenaline when the track dips its toes into some blast beat-type drumming a little ways in.

I've talked a lot about the sax on this album, but the rest of the band deserves a lot of credit as well. At times, it's hard to tell where the synths and guitar end and the sax begins, and that's part of what elevates the music. This isn't a jazz quartet playing with distortion to try to push into fusion, rock, or metal--it's a different entity entirely, running roughshod over any genre lines I could really throw at you. I know there's a decent contingent of people who hate horns in metal, and this album can be difficult to approach sometimes, but as I often do when I review things that are a bit more outre than usual, I urge you to give this a chance. The songs are long (and even the song titles are long and strangely punctuated), but I think this will reveal itself to you over multiple listens. Any open-minded fan of music will likely find a lot of things here to sink their teeth into.

Unearthly Trance - Stalking the Ghost

By Karen A. Mann. New York’s Unearthly Trance have been crafting earth-crushing sludge with a strange, darkly magical quality since 2000. Over the course of several releases, they’ve moved from a blackened sound to one that’s doomier, more psychedelic and experimental. Their latest Relapse release

By Karen A. Mann.

Cover art by Orion Landau.

New York’s Unearthly Trance have been crafting earth-crushing sludge with a strange, darkly magical quality since 2000. Over the course of several releases, they’ve moved from a blackened sound to one that’s doomier, more psychedelic and experimental. Their latest Relapse release, Stalking the Ghost, sees them at their most expansive and diverse. Through eight songs, they cover a lot of ground, from pounding heavy rock to crushing, murky doom to droning noise, all with occasional clean vocals and guitar cutting through the ominous layers.

The album opens with “Into the Spiral,” a straight-ahead, sludgy rocker that seems pretty cut-and-dried, until the song suddenly slows down, with the vocals shouted in like a call from outer space. That unexpected quality is what makes Unearthly Trance such a compelling listen. Just as you’re riding along with a song and think you know where it’s going, the journey suddenly becomes weirder. Not only are you no longer on the same road, you’re not even in the same universe.

This quality is best embodied by three successive songs in the middle of the album. The first is “Scythe,” which begins crushingly, with majestic, classically doomy guitars, and ominous, shimmering cymbals.

“Famine” is cold and crushing, with singer/guitarist Ryan Lipynsky’s death-rattle vocals rumbling under layers of noise. The song veers into clean, minimalism before swirling into a discordant, repetitive riff. An unexpected soaring solo rises, phoenix-like, out of the murk.

Finally, “Lion Strength” showcases the band’s more psychedelic side with a swirling, trance-like melody and ominous vocals that sound as if they’re being yelled from far away, ominous, before the song floods back in with a wallop.

It should be noted that all three members of Unearthly Trance, along with Tim Bagshaw of Ramesses/Electric Wizard/With the Dead, also comprise Serpentine Path, which veers more toward English horror doom than psychedelic sludge. “The Great Cauldron,” with its plodding, angry riffing, is the song is the song where the connection between both bands can best be heard.

Stalking the Ghost truly goes out on a limb with the final song, “In the Forests Keep,” which begins quietly, reverby clean guitars and a foreboding, extended melody as droning noise wells up behind it. As the noise becoming more insistent, a voice, sounding as if it’s being transmitted from outer space, recites the ominous lyrics before the song fades away. It’s an unexpected, and yet appropriate, finale to the album.

Bastard Noise & Sickness - Death’s Door

By Craig Hayes. Harsh noise is a hard sell. It’s deliberately challenging, purposely demanding, and intentionally punishing, and most people don’t even consider noise to be music at all. That includes people who’ll otherwise happily listen to warp-speed grindcore, gruelling sewage sludge, or the rawest black metal.

By Craig Hayes.


Harsh noise is a hard sell. It’s deliberately challenging, purposely demanding, and intentionally punishing, and most people don’t even consider noise to be music at all. That includes people who’ll otherwise happily listen to warp-speed grindcore, gruelling sewage sludge, or the rawest black metal. But it often seems like noise is just a step too far. If you’re in that camp, then you’ll hate what sonic executioners Bastard Noise and Sickness have cooked up on their strident two track collaborative release, Death’s Door. However, if you’re broad-minded noise fan with a penchant for abrasive sonic trauma, then Death’s Door is set to deliver a perfectly provocative, and always brain-battering, stockpile of power electronics.

Many years ago, I read an article about noise music that summed up the genre's appeal in a few simple sentences. Essentially, and I’m paraphrasing here, that article argued that noise is noteworthy because it breaks the code. What code? Well, generally, music is all about the message, those recurrent motifs, and the meaning –– i.e. the code. But noise distorts all of those elements. It reconfigures them. Redefines them. And in the case of bands like Bastard Noise and Sickness, and releases like Death’s Door, that code is smashed into unidentifiable pieces. And then erased off the fucking map.

These days, we’re drowning in endless multi-platform communiqués, and that means bands like Bastard Noise and Sickness, and their music-mutating kin, matter more than ever. Whether they're using maelstrom synths, feedback-fuelled guitars, or ear-piercing electronics, those bands corrupt or even entirely halt that incessant stream of communication. In doing so, they provide a visceral sense of catharsis rendering the inconsequential mute, and purging the trivial in a torrent of static.

In other words, noise offers a much-needed albeit frequently brutal reboot. Bastard Noise have been providing that since the early 90s. These days, the mega-prolific band is primarily helmed by multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Eric Wood, but Bastard Noise has also featured plenty of other renowned contributors and collaborators over the years. Sickness (aka Chris Goudreau) has been an audio assassin since starting his “tape-loop/industrial” project in late 80s. And his work in the extreme noise and cut-and-paste electronics realm is highly regarded too. Wood and Goudreau working together on Death’s Door makes perfect sense because they are experts at (de)composition, reconstructing hardware, and then subverting software in order to produce sheer hellish malware.

That’s exactly what Bastard Noise and Sickness do on Death’s Door. The release opens with a gut-wrenching vocal roar that kicks off the 16-minute title track, and then a nightmare unfolds as glitchy stabs of caustic sounds collide with blaring sirens, alarms, and eviscerating frequencies. "Death's Door" is a dissonant horror show, where Bastard Noise and Sickness tear a rent in reality. And the good news is, if you make it out the other side, you’ll find "Ever Downward" patiently waiting to fry whatever's left of your synapses with its corrupted electronics.

If "Death's Door" smashes open a portal –– and, really, there’s no doubt that it does just that –– then "Ever Downward" is where Bastard Noise and Sickness sculpt dark scenes from beyond the veil. the track is darkly rhythmic, and eerily dynamic, with deep droning layers of acid-burnt electronics and feedback being entangled tighter and tighter as the track builds to its ear-splitting climax. "Ever Downward" is an exquisite example of how to simultaneously ratchet up the high frequency torment and emotional tension. It's a harsh but necessary lesson. With deliverance delivered via audio exorcism, waiting at the track's end.

If you weren’t a fan of harsh noise or power electronics already, Death’s Door certainly isn’t going to convert you to the cause. But that’s not any kind of deficit. Nor does it reflect any deficiencies on Bastard Noise and Sickness behalf. Death’s Door is a welcomingly uncompromising endeavour, delivering two pieces of piercing music that travel entirely different pathways into the pits of perdition. No question, the code is certainly crushed along the way. And doorways to other dimensions are kicked wide open. Death’s Door really is a harrowing and soul-scouring reboot –– i.e. it's exactly what’s needed, in this day and age.

Ulcerate - Shrines of Paralysis

By Craig Hayes. Ulcerate have been on the receiving end of abundant critical acclaim for a number of years now. Each subsequent release from the formidable Auckland, New Zealand-based death metal band is seemingly hailed not only as the band’s very best work, but also as a genre-quaking release in its own right.

By Craig Hayes.


Ulcerate have been on the receiving end of abundant critical acclaim for a number of years now. Each subsequent release from the formidable Auckland, New Zealand-based death metal band is seemingly hailed not only as the band’s very best work, but also as a genre-quaking release in its own right. Truth is, while we all know that the world of heavy metal is awash in hollow hype, Ulcerate deserve every single iota of that praise.

You can expect more of the same genius on Ulcerate’s brand new album, Shrines of Paralysis. The band’s fifth full-length confirms that Ulcerate are a singular band, ahead of the curve both musically and conceptually. Shrines of Paralysis also reaffirms that Ulcerate are experts in combining unrivaled amounts of sonic heaviness with intimidating amounts of musical complexity. But if Shrines of Paralysis showcases one thing most of all, it’s that Ulcerate are a distinctive musical entity, constructing a dynamic language all of their own making.

None of the above is false flattery. You only need listen to Ulcerate’s albums in sequence to hear a band carving out a creative path that’s grown more distinct as they’ve become more unconventional and nuanced in mixing instrumental mastery with pure ferocity. In fact, Ulcerate are famed for meticulously arranging highly technical death metal. Although, I’d argue, that’s not really an accurate picture of the band in 2016.

Paul Kelland 2014. Photos © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

Ulcerate are ever-evolving. Today, doomier and disharmonic dirges, black metal, industrial and post-punk textures, and atmospheric post-metal all feature on Ulcerate’s artistic palette. Of course, all of that is battered by swarms of progressive and dissonant death metal –– and then trampled by jaw-droppingly insane solos. But albums like 2011’s The Destroyers of All or 2013’s Vermis also highlight a band that’s entirely comfortable with wilfully ignoring death metal’s rules and regulations.

My theory’s always been that Ulcerate incorporate influences from well outside death metal and make evolutionary music because they exist on the fringes, both artistically and geographically. In other words: isolation = innovation. Or, Ulcerate’s remoteness helps to inform their uniqueness. Fair enough if you disagree, but what isn’t up for debate is the fact that Shrines of Paralysis is Ulcerate’s most artistically ambitious and thus most intimidating release yet.

The album’s first two songs, “Abrogation” and “Yield to Naught”, are perfect examples of how Ulcerate craft intense songs filled with micro machinations that hypnotically draw the ear. There’s no question that people rejoice in the expertly sculpted detail packed into Ulcerate’s songs. However, the band also ensure there’s a macro component to Shrines of Paralysis: that giant wall of noise that hammers home the album’s oppressive whole.

Jamie Saint Merat 2014. Photos © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

So, yes, those complex time signatures deserve applause, as does the way guitarist Michael Hoggard twists labyrinthine riffs around drummer Jamie Saint Merat’s knotty percussion. As do bassist and vocalist Paul Kelland’s guttural growls, which form a whole other layer of vocal instrumentation. But don’t forget to step back and admire Shrines of Paralysis in terms of its sheer overall power. Because it’s a mammoth, head-spinning work of art.

As you’d expect, Shrines of Paralysis is painstakingly produced, mixed and mastered, by Saint Merat once again, to maximize its aggressiveness and impact. And tracks like “There Are No Saviours” and “Extinguished Light” benefit from that production clarity because their more intricate elements are able to shine alongside their bitterest and most nerve-shredding components. That pitch-perfect production also highlights how Ulcerate’s work has become increasingly more interesting as the band’s unique vernacular has expanded, and Shrines of Paralysis is certainly Ulcerate’s most diverse recording thus far.

Throttling tracks like “Shrines of Paralysis’” and “Chasm of Fire” show that Ulcerate are very adept at constructing chilling songs. But those songs also reveal that the band prove themselves to be true masters of dread-filled death metal when they slow things down and flesh out their songs –– allowing their often avant-garde and always hypothermic and hypnotic atmospherics to really get under the skin.

Michael Hoggard 2014. Photos © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

For me, that’s always been the band’s best attribute. I mean, sure, Ulcerate’s hyper-technical exertions are impressive. But the hook, for me at least, has been that unnerving chill that lingers: that all-encompassing and unrelenting darkness. That’s not to deny Ulcerate’s skill in orchestrating a discordant cacophony with maestro dexterity. Technically, Shrines of Paralysis is a masterclass in balancing elements like velocity, rhythm, complexity, savagery, atonality, and nuance. That’s a lot of ingredients, and the album’s final track, “End the Hope”, puts all of that into action while underscoring Ulcerate’s ability to create music that’s evocative and organic yet mechanical and ruthless.

In the end, that’s the best way to describe Shrines of Paralysis: human yet utterly inhuman. That’s an apt description of Ulcerate’s thematic sophistication too. Aesthetically, Ulcerate are unrivalled. They are what others cannot be.

Shrines of Paralysis is challenging and jarring and, like all of Ulcerate’s albums, repeated playing reveals increasing layers of detail. Because Shrines of Paralysis incorporates a wider spectrum of influences, the listening experience is exponentially more unique and satisfying. The album shows what happens when an unrestrained and unconventional approach meets idiosyncratic creativity. Shrines of Paralysis is visionary music for the bleakest of times.

Ulcerate remain unsurpassed.

Gatecreeper - Sonoran Depravation

By Craig Hayes. Now that Bolt Thrower has been officially laid to rest, I guess it’s only a matter of time before every death metal whippersnapper wielding a few warmongering riffs is going to be hailed as the inheritor of Bolt Thrower’s crown.

By Craig Hayes.

Artwork by Adam Burke

Now that Bolt Thrower has been officially laid to rest, I guess it’s only a matter of time before every death metal whippersnapper wielding a few warmongering riffs is going to be hailed as the inheritor of Bolt Thrower’s crown. Truth is, no one is ever going to come close to occupying Bolt Thrower’s position in the pantheon of death metal. Nor are they going to better the buzzsaw blitzkrieg of Nihilist, Dismember, Grave, or early-Entombed and Obituary. Those bands laid unshakeable musical foundations. But that doesn’t mean a young band can’t plant their flag in the soil, raise the axes, and strive to cleave and disembowel like Bolt Thrower at their best.

That’s pretty much what Arizonian death metallers Gatecreeper have done on their storming debut, Sonoran Depravation. Gatecreeper’s first full-length contains nine tracks of bruising, low-end death metal that’s delivered with a thick old school accent –– so that’s check, check and check in the influenced by Bolt Thrower box. Gatecreeper also gouge giant doom-drenched grooves on Sonoran Depravation, and that ensures the album is catchy as hell (check and check, again). There’s also a heap of ye olde HM-2 fireworks to enjoy on trampling tracks like “Craving Flesh”, “Sterilizing” and “Patriarchal Grip”. And with Sonoran Depravation being produced by Ryan Bram, and mixed by famed studio wizard Kurt Ballou, neck-breaking songs like “Rotting As One”, “Flamethrower”, and album closer, “Grotesque Operations”, hit like a tonne of fucking bricks.

All of those elements above are reasons why Gatecreeper’s first full-length is a roaring success. But none of them are the prime reason why it utterly smokes the underground competition. What really makes Sonoran Depravation such a sterling debut is its clear crossover appeal. In fact, if you’re looking for the chief connection to a band like Bolt Thrower (or plenty of other death metal progenitors, for that matter) then you only need note that Gatecreeper’s sound features a mountain of sledgehammering crust.

Now, admittedly, I am totally biased in deciding that Gatecreeper's punked-up punch is their best attribute. I just happen to love filthy death metal that’s indebted to vintage crust and hardcore (see Bolt Thrower’s smashing debut, In Battle There Is No Law!). There's a reason why Bolt Thrower are the death metal band that punks respect most. It’s because they cut the bullshit, and got straight to the pummelling and punishing point, and Gatecreeper do exactly the same.

Gatecreeper sets the dial on 11 throughout Sonoran Depravation, and rages from the very first second to the very last, and it’s all jam-packed with a frenzied sound and attitude that’s seen Gatecreeper understandably find fans in both the metal and punk camps. No question, Bolt Thrower’s crown will always remain untouchable. But there’s also no question that when a band like Gatecreeper brings heavy duty weaponry like Sonoran Depravation into battle, they can stand proudly alongside the toughest and most iconic warriors on the shield wall.

Sumerlands - Sumerlands

By Karen A. Mann. After turning heads with their 2014 Guardian demo, Philly traditional metal outfit Sumerlands is back with a full Relapse debut that’s easily in contention for one of the best releases of the year.

By Karen A. Mann


After turning heads with their 2014 Guardian demo, Philly traditional metal outfit Sumerlands is back with a full Relapse debut that’s easily in contention for one of the best releases of the year. Fusing a love of classic guitar-driven ‘70s and ‘80s heavy rock, the self-titled debut is a satisfying slab of ripping leads, powerful vocals, and thought-provoking lyrics of personal and global chaos. It also helps solidify an emerging new American traditional metal scene (along with Magic Circle and High Spirits) that’s not afraid to go clean, be smart and shred.

Sumerlands gets its power from the double whammy of Arthur Rizk’s soaring guitar and former Hour of 13 vocalist Phil Swanson’s massive, multi-octave voice. The effect is evident from the very first song, “Seventh Seal,” which sounds like the perfect tune to blast from an IROC Z while you’re screaming down the road to pick up your buddy and go hang out at the mall on a Friday night. Lyrics like “hear the cries of martyrs, sound the angels call / Await your final judgement, your fate will soon be sworn”, add to the anthemic nature of the song.

From there, the album offers seven more songs, most clocking in around the four-five minute mark, that pay homage to the likes of early Judas Priest, Queensryche, Cirith Ungol and Van Halen while still sounding contemporary. Sumerlands is at its best on “The Guardian,” where Swanson takes it over the top with a Halford-style falsetto. Other standout tracks include the slower, moodier “Haunted Forever,” and “Lost My Mind,” which features an early Def Leppard-worthy riff.

Inter Arma - Paradise Gallows

By Karen A. Mann. One Thanksgiving years ago, a friend of mine and I decided to get out of the house and go see the Russell Crowe Napoleonic naval epic Master and Commander.

By Karen A. Mann

Artwork by Orion Landau

One Thanksgiving years ago, a friend of mine and I decided to get out of the house and go see the Russell Crowe Napoleonic naval epic Master and Commander. Unfortunately, everyone else in town had the same idea, and the only two seats available in the theatre were at the very front and off to the side. We spent the next two hours feeling like we were strapped to the bow of that ship as it heaved through a stormy sea at the bottom of the world. Crew members lost their minds and were cast overboard as the captain desperately chased a bigger and faster enemy. We left the theater feeling overwhelmed and slightly seasick, but ended up talking about that movie all weekend.

That’s the same feeling I got from Inter Arma’s astounding new album, Paradise Gallows, their first full-length since their groundbreaking 2013 release Sky Burial. Lurching through nine songs, Paradise Gallows is a harrowing epic with lyrical peaks and valleys that tosses in everything from blackened discordant guitars to elegiac piano melodies. The cover artwork even includes a sinking ship -- complete with a corpse dangling from the mast -- crashing against a garishly colored sky.

Trey Dalton. Photo © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

The album’s opener, "Nomini," is a fairly short instrumental number that begins with a somber and lulling acoustic guitar, then segues into a melody that recalls Sky Burial’s Pink Floydian "The Long Road Home." But lest you get too comfortable, the next song, "An Archer in the Emptiness," stomps in like a giant, propelled by T.J. Childers’ frenetic drumming, and Joe Kerkes’ steady low end. The song crashes and soars, buoyed by Mike Paparo’s trademark angry bellow.

One of the album’s finest moments happens on “Transfiguration,” the album’s frenetic third song, which begins with another discordant crash, with Childers and Kerkes propelling the song as guitarists Steven Russell and Trey Dalton play a repetitive, hypnotic riff, and Paparo shrieks through the chaos.

Mike Paparo, T.J. Childers, Steven Russell. Photos © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

Lyrically, Paradise Gallows is equally intense and unexpected, channeling Existential and Romantic themes of despair, spiritual upheaval, and the relentlessness of nature. On the title song, Paparo sounds like a ghost mournfully echoing from a watery grave:

When I was young, I inflicted a heartless sin. I mocked my fate and ran wild until chance led me here, Where I grew drunk on the trace of a fermenting sun, And buried my failures beneath the ebb and flow of the tides.

Time, have you forgotten my sullied name? Time, have you forgotten the shameful wounds? Time, have you forgotten the boundless grief, I so callously wrought?

Joe Kerkes. Photo © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

Much has been made -- with good reason -- of the fact that Paparo branches out into clean vocals on this album. Comparisons to Nick Cave are pretty spot-on, particularly on "The Summer Drones," a languid, shimmering song in which the singer alternately intones and bellows the lyrics to masterful effect. Paparo also shines on the final song, "Where the Earth Meets the Sky," where he’s accompanied by haunting backing vocals and a gentle, regretful melody.

With each successive album, Inter Arma has defied genres and gotten away with boundary acrobatics that other bands couldn’t, simply because their ideas are so fearlessly radical and confidently executed. They’ve set a new standard with Paradise Gallows, leaving the listener feeling ravaged, doomed and strangely hopeful.

Death - Leprosy

An Autothrall Classic. For the longest time the Death reissues on the Relapse Records' Bandcamp were only available in expensive ($25) editions with lots of frankly unnecessary rehearsal/live versions of the songs.

[For the longest time the Death reissues on the Relapse Records' Bandcamp were only available in expensive ($25) editions with lots of frankly unnecessary rehearsal/live versions of the songs. I mean four extra versions of "Open Casket"? That's only of interest for the most fanatical collectors. Thankfully Relapse has now released trimmed down editions for a much more reasonable price ($12). Half the price, half the number of "Open Casket" bonus versions. We approve, and we celebrate with:]

An Autothrall Classic. Originally published here.

Edward J. Repka

Where Scream Bloody Gore provided us with a glimpse of corpse strewn genius, it was Chuck Schuldiner's sophomore monstrosity Leprosy that would hammer in the final coffin nails: death metal had truly arrived, and with it an almost entire musical landscape would either book passage on the funeral barge or sink into the Lethe. Sure, thrash had of brilliance yet to offer, and to an extent, many considered Leprosy itself to fall under that category in its day. But as time has proven, it is by far one of the most expressive, beatific statements of brutality and evil that I've ever experienced, and I enjoy it with the same solidarity today as I did over 20 years ago. In fact, I hold it upon the same lofty plateau of carnage as I place a Consuming Impulse, Realm of Chaos, Left Hand Path, or Altars of Madness: a mastery of the genre's fundamentals, with unanimously catchy songs to boot.

Yes, I said catchy. Many might forget that the inauguration of death metal was not simply a thing of blunt, indifferent brutality or charnel atmospheres, but actual song craft. Such a large ratio of the genre's rabid followers today came into the fold in the 90s or beyond that I fear many might have taken (or still take) an album like Leprosy for granted. For example, you won't hear excess storms of double bass, blasting or technical drumming here where they're not viable. This was well before the market had been cornered by Cryptopsy or Suffocation. Bill Andrews' beats offer nothing more than a concrete foundation for the wondrous, insanely well written riffs and the thick as thieves bass lines, rolling on his bass drums where applicable. And know what? Nothing more is needed for this album whatsoever, because the star side of beef in this slaughter house is without any doubt the guitar riffing and the caustic vocal torments of Schuldiner.

They do not make riffs like this anymore, not often at least. Such simple but instantaneously memorable fare that manages to encapsulate the menace and threat of a worldly change for the worse. In today's climate of brickwalled, ProTools brutality, death metal has transformed into an acrobatic light show in which the most gallantly executed tricks are fawned over by brooding masses that forget them once the following weeks upstaging has transpired. But how many are writing a riff that might actually scare the fuck out of you? I mean, no offense to Deeds of Flesh or Behemoth (I enjoy some material by both), but if you were alone in a morgue during a power outage, would you feel terrified if their music started to play in the background? Fuck no you wouldn't. It's brutal, indeed, but it doesn't possess that same skin crawling atmosphere, conjured directly through its notation. You don't feel that instant repulsion as if being covered in spiders, or that wondrous, jaw-dropping disbelief you might have felt when watching human entrails being exhumed from their corporeal hosts by the zombies in an 80s Romero flick.

I feel that sensation every time I listen through Leprosy, for nearly the entirety of its 39 minutes. Even at its most goofy and uplifting ("Forgotten Past"), I'd need to hold your hand in the theater when the lights go out. The slow, sure chords of the title track de-Christen the album, dire melodies cycling across Chuck's bass lines before that ineffably damning death howl erupts around :40. Jesus fuck, I feel like I'm staring at my own corpse while cold, dead spectral hands are forcing me backwards into the maw of the underworld. Yet, it's all still catchy, in particular where the guitars cut in before 2:00 and the searing velocity of the riff after that. Not many bands can stop/start you this often and hold your attention. This one could. "Born Dead" arrives with almost playful deviance, a gaggle of gremlins and fiends dancing on your hide as they stab it with poisoned barbs, fast and brutal guitars alternating into the escalation of pure chord force in the chorus, and then the clinical tapping sequence after 1:00 which is legendary.

"Forgotten Past", as hinted above, is even more playful with an almost happy-go-lucky muted punk veneer to its introductory riff. However, it soon collides into a graveyard wall, and the lower bridge/groove rhythm at 1:00 is a knockout. "Left to Die" begins with one of the creepiest riffs on the entire album, a surgical thrashing that feels like you're watching some unfortunate be pumped with formaldehyde while still drawing breath. Big, swaggering grooves cede towards another of those glorious, thick rhythms, and I dare you not to explode at the chorus, one of the most tangible and enduring statements of DEATH METAL to date. "Pull the Plug" follows, one of the most popular pieces from this sophomore, another smorgasboard of splatter and horror with at least 5 unforgettable riffs, and a chorus that has probably broken as many bones in mosh pits as anything else in all of thrash or death (excepting "Raining Blood", of course). Listen to that riff at 1:20. That is all I should have to say...

Yet Schuldiner, Andrews and Rick Rozz are not finished with us here, and they burst out the meaty, meandering causeway of "Open Casket", with another monolithic, almost doom metal breakdown bridging the verses. I particularly enjoy the wild nature of the lead in this one, shrill and cavernous and resonant across the pathological plague-scape of the album. "Primitive Ways" has a similar, escalating brightness about it that we were teased with in "Forgotten Past", but once again composed front to end with perfect, plausible guitar lines and Chuck's unforgettable, flesh stalking vocals. "Choke On It" festers with some of the same, slower breakdown segues that populate other songs here, but is marvelously concise and offers another of the album's most malevolent, genius riffs just before 1:30. All of these are seasoned in a lyrical sauce similar to the debut. Still heavy on simplistic imagery, but more consistently composed.

We are living in 'old as new' times, folks, with many younger artists turning back to the past for their inspiration. But I'll be damned if I wouldn't pay a band double for an album that made such flawless use of inspiring, simple rhythms; or one that could conjure such morbid malignancy without simply steering towards the cavernous, deep guttural terrain. The production here is perfect, raw but resonating through the listener's mind like an autopsy on the television set. You want to turn away, you want to squint but you're glued to the gore, fascinating by the fleshy flaws and organs that lie within all of us. Leprosy was one of the most repulsive yet alluring metal experiences I was honored to undertake in the 80s, alongside the over the top Slowly We Rot or Cause of Death, or the thrashing unto death transition of Pestilence. It's probably cool in some circles to rally against Chuck from beyond the grave, and my own feelings on Death are mixed once he transformed into a philosophical cosmonaut on the fourth album (half forgetting what got him there in the first place), but I am sure as a starving bear in a spring thaw that this is one of the best goddamn things I've ever heard in my middle-age nearing existence. Leprosy forever. May the limbs of all unworthy poseurs fester in putrid permanence.

Cough - Still They Pray

By Karen A. Mann. Cough’s music has always strongly evoked that sweet spot between feeling no pain and puking your guts out after drinking a bottle full of codeine-laced cough syrup. You never quite know where any of their songs will lead you.

By Karen A. Mann.


Cough’s music has always strongly evoked that sweet spot between feeling no pain and puking your guts out after drinking a bottle full of codeine-laced cough syrup. You never quite know where any of their songs will lead you. One moment it’s ethereal and fuzzy. The next moment you’re begging for death. The band seemed to have peaked with the 2010 release Ritual Abuse, a misanthropic slab of agony that brought them a wider audience, and some often unfair comparisons to Electric Wizard.

Aside from their 2013 split with Windhand, the band was mostly silent for six years, during which the members focused on other projects (guitarist Brandon Marcey leads Sinister Haze and bass player Parker Chandler is also in Windhand). Now Cough is finally back with the incredible Still They Pray, appropriately produced by Jus Oborn and Windhand mastermind Garrett Morris, who coaxed the band to create their strongest, most melodic release to date.

Photos by Karen

Still They Pray begins with a feedback shriek that segues into the shuffling, howling “Haunter of the Dark.” Driven by a gut-punch groove and David Cisco’s wah-freakout guitar, “Haunter” is a perfect vehicle for Cisco’s tortured, from-the-abyss vocals. It’s also a good indicator of what to expect from the rest of the album: groovy rhythms that can turn unexpectedly jammy, layers upon layers of hypnotic riffing, and vocals from both Cisco and Chander that sound utterly desperate and morose, whether they’re screaming or quietly singing in a clean voice.

Still They Pray also amps up Cough’s dark, psychedelic tendencies, especially on the beautifully horrifying “Dead Among the Roses,” (my pick for the album’s best track), and the funereal, keyboard-driven “The Wounding Hours.” All these elements meld together in “Let It Bleed,” which begins with some sweet riffing that could almost be from a Neil Young deep cut, but ends deliriously raw and angry, as Cisco intones “Life and death, all the same, just let it bleed.”

Karen's photos are from Cough's album release show. See more of them over at her blog.

Short and to the point 3

By Aaron Sullivan. Wolvserpent have a new album out. The two piece band consisting of Blake Green (guitar, vocals) and Brittany McConnell (drums, violin) released a one song E.P. entitled Aporia​:​Kāla​:​Ananta.

By Aaron Sullivan.


Wolvserpent have a new album out. The two piece band consisting of Blake Green (guitar, vocals) and Brittany McConnell (drums, violin) released a one song E.P. entitled Aporia​:​Kāla​:​Ananta.

Their last album Perigaea Antahkarana is among my favorite albums all time. The unique ability to combine DOOM, Classical, Drone, and Ambient is unlike any other band I know of. They are like a darker Godspeed You! Black Emperor. The song balances between sounding epic and still retaining a touch of rawness about it. They combine beauty and darkness seamlessly. This band never ceases to amaze.

James Brown III can not be stopped. He is constantly producing amazing music through many different entities and genres on his Rising Beast label. Well add another, Vorpal Sword.

The common thread through all his endeavors is experimentation. Never standing in one place for too long. Vorpal Sword's first album, 10,000 Stab Wounds, can be best described as a mix of noise and Punky Black Metal. The static is right up front, a wall of it if you like. Behind it is punky blackened riffs and vocals so deep in the mix they too become noise at some points. This music is in your face and unapologetic.

Then comes the new Vorpal Sword album, Pain. A 15 minute track that when it starts sounds like we are going down the same road. But as I said before, he is never standing one place for too long. Instead it goes into a what is a DSBM song drenched in staticy noise. Within the 15 minute track it shifts quite a bit. I get the sense it could have been divided into many songs but was made as one continuous track for a reason, and it works. From the opening it varies to noise/power electronic interludes, punky black metal, and back to more atmospheric Black Metal.

With Vorpal Sword he once again shows his versatility as an artist. Where he will go next I don’t know. But I know it will be interesting.

Not sure what it is, but for me, when I see a band is from Germany, even more so one that that plays the darker side of metal, I know I’m in for a treat. Germany rarely lets me down, and Dolch only further prove what I have found to be true.

They play a mix of dark gothy post punk with touches of ambient. Reminding me of Urfaust and Vindensång at times. Slow repetitive riffing, almost drone like. Heavy with mood and creating great atmosphere. The vocals are a clean female style. They add an ethereal quality to the darkness that only furthers the atmosphere. I was hooked at first listen. A very exciting new band I hope to hear more from.

Cover art by Bob Layzell

Unlike Germany Italy is the opposite for me. Not a knock on the quality of the music coming from that country but rather I have not heard anything that I enjoy. But Phobonoid's self titled album is working very hard to change that. A concept album highly influenced by sci-fi, with a written prologue on the Bandcamp page:

Distant flames, overlapping in the cloud of time.
The Alpha Centauri army moves towards the Solar System.
The will to power darkens the smell of putrefaction.
The Satellites Alliance must defend its territory, Phobos will have to embrace his weapons again.
Winning today to get lost tomorrow. Does it really matter?
Under the pall of mummified bodies lies the answer.

Phobonoid is one man band project of Lord Phobos. He mixes DOOM with Black Metal and hints of Industrial, along with ambient type instrumentals throughout the album. His raspy screams right in the middle of the mix. The music is dark and cold much like the outer space it takes place in.

From England comes black metal merchants Terra. There is a touch of mystery to them. The album is untitled, the songs merely numbered, no lyrics are given, they give only their first names and the cover is the dark void of space. But that only helps to draw focus to the music, and it’s a doozy.

They do such a great job of sounding raw and epic at the same time. Great atmosphere throughout. Spare use of vocals, it’s almost as if they are an instrumental band. At times I get a Wolves In The Throne Room vibe and other times I’m reminded of Altar of Plagues. Songs never stay on the same riff throughout a song. They shift constantly but it always feels natural not jarring at all. This was a favorite of mine from 2015. A very promising band.

Inverloch - Distance | Collapsed

By Justin C. Inverloch's debut EP, Dusk | Subside, came out way back in 2012, right around the time I was getting seriously back into metal (and also around the time my very first review appeared on this site).

By Justin C.


Inverloch's debut EP, Dusk | Subside, came out way back in 2012, right around the time I was getting seriously back into metal (and also around the time my very first review appeared on this site). Inverloch was getting some good attention, in no small part because it featured two former members of the short-lived but very well-regarded funeral doom progenitors Disembowelment. I didn't really "get" Disembowelment at first, because I think my ears just weren't ready for how low and slow funeral doom can get. I eventually came around to Disembowelment, but at the time, I found Inverloch's death/funeral doom mix much more accessible.

Now, four years after that first EP, we finally get a full length from Inverloch, Distance | Collapsed. Now, there are plenty of bands that mash up "x genre" and "y genre," with varying degrees of success, but Inverloch's rumbling death metal and funeral doom mix is damn near flawless. It's easy to jolt a listener with a quick change just for change's sake, but Inverloch never makes a misstep that way. I'm never drawn out of the music because of an awkward transition. Take the opening, sort-of-title track, "Distance Collapsed (in Rubble)." The stomping death metal eventually gives way to sad slowness, but you never get that jarring feeling of, "Wait, what just happened?" Sure, you can pin down the shifts in sound if you're looking to dissect the songs that way, but it's just as easy to be carried away, leaving intellectualism behind. Sometimes, they even put the two sounds right on top of each other, like the churning riff over the slow doom in the middle of "Lucid Delirium." It's a fantastic pairing overall, never letting you get too doomed out or, conversely, numb to the death rampage. This album is a relatively trim 40 minutes, but I could easily listen to 80 minutes of death/doom this good.

I've already shot my mouth off about what album(s) might rule 2016 for funeral doom, so I'm going to stop saying dumb stuff like that, especially since we're only in March and I've already been blown away by yet another doomy offering. But we've definitely got another standout here.

Lycus - Chasms

By Justin C. If you find funeral doom to be a bit too languid at times, Lycus has the solution to your problems. Their new album, Chasms, is a particularly intense kind of melancholy. Sure, there are the clean chant-like vocals, as found on their last outing,

By Justin C.

Artwork by Paolo Girardi

If you find funeral doom to be a bit too languid at times, Lycus has the solution to your problems. Their new album, Chasms, is a particularly intense kind of melancholy. Sure, there are the clean chant-like vocals, as found on their last outing, Tempest, but there are also growls and blackened rasps. There are plenty of slow-and-low riffs, but there are also high-flying tremolos. There are plenty of drums that sound like a cliffside collapsing, but there are pulsing rhythms and frantic blasts as well. And you'll usually find all of these over the course of any given song.

Lycus 2014. Photo by Carmelo Española.

Listening to Chasms back to back with 2013's Tempest reveals that the band hasn't abandoned any of their strengths or drastically changed their approach, but the song complexity and atmosphere have both been ratcheted up. The opener of "Mirage" is like the soundtrack to a late night drive in a big city, but before the two-minute mark, that car is slowly coasting off the end of a pier. While on fire. "Obsidian Eyes" has some great overlapping guitar lines that almost seem like they're shifting in and out of phase with each other. The ringing guitar and the subtly shifting drums in the opener to the title track would be interesting enough on their own, but they're joined by a cello winding a melody over them. There's an almost-symphonic feel to the compositions, but with all the discordance and crushing heft you need from metal.

Lycus 2014. Photo by Carmelo Española.

I went through a bit of an evolution listening to this album. The monumental heaviness and emotional punch drew me in immediately. I did find myself missing some of the melodic hooks from Tempest that stuck so easily in my ear, but the shifts and complexities in Chasms dig into your brain in a different way. It crawls like funeral doom, but it's restless and ever-changing in a way that might not be apparent on first listen. I find myself wanting to point out all the intricacies that have caught my ear, but you'd be better off discovering those for yourself. 2016 is going to have to be a hell of a good year for funeral doom for anybody to top this one.

Hooded Menace - Darkness Drips Forth

By Matt Hinch. Most fans of underground metal should be familiar with Hooded Menace by now. The cowled Finns have become renowned for their filthy death/doom saturated by cavernous, bone-chilling growls. Those sentiments still apply on latest album

By Matt Hinch.

Cover art by Justin Bartlett

Most fans of underground metal should be familiar with Hooded Menace by now. The cowled Finns have become renowned for their filthy death/doom saturated by cavernous, bone-chilling growls. Those sentiments still apply on latest album, Darkness Drips Forth. However, whereas on previous work Hooded Menace leaned more on the death side, Darkness Drips Forth brings the doom. With four tracks spanning a massive 43 minutes DDF takes a slower path ensuring demise.

The overall sound of Hooded Menace remains intact but the riffs here are much slower for the most part. Funereal even. Of course, it's not all sagging strings and syrupy tempos.

Hooded Menace turn on the melody and pick up the pace more than enough to give the album the dynamics and depth that keeps the band among the genre's elite. It's as melodic as it is crushing and the tempo changes thrust the listener into the heat of destruction and yank them away from the precipice of impending death.

On the whole, DDF feels as grand and stately as we've come to expect. The thick riffs and cascading melodies match the feeling of conquest often felt. Even if the fight is internal. It's that emotional connection that really hits home as well. For all the determined negativity that seeps from their tone and plodding nature, the melodies open things up to encompass despondency, anguish, heartache and hope.

Dread, terror and menace still rule the day. Tar thick doom riffs and bowel-evacuating tone bulldoze beneath those spectral melodies sending shivers down the spine. On DDF the encapsulating darkness is more calculated and instead of chasing the victim down and killing quickly, Hooded Menace stalk their prey and savour their death.

While not a “standard” Hooded Menace album there's nothing here that will turn away long time fans. The ancient ghosts of cold, desolate wastes will still haunt Hooded Menace's cavernous death/doom, mortality will still wither in the face of massive riffs and darkness will still relentlessly drip forth.