Forgotten Gods - Twin Sisters

By Calen Henry. Twin Sisters, Forgotten Gods’ sophomore album is stoner doom from the Desert Altar in the best way. The album oozes hip shaking, head nodding riffs and smooth retro production, while an overall warm sound, and plenty of wah give it a laid back approachability that belies its weirdness.

By Calen Henry.

Artwork by Dave Stoltenberg

Twin Sisters, Forgotten Gods’ sophomore album is stoner doom from the Desert Altar in the best way. The album oozes hip shaking, head nodding riffs and smooth retro production, while an overall warm sound, and plenty of wah give it a laid back approachability that belies its weirdness.

Forgotten Gods’ first record, Fall of the Dagger, is a great collection of songs, but some of the production didn’t quite fit the hazy space-doom sound. The guitar, in particular, had a bit too much of a snarl for laid back stoner doom and the overall production was a bit "garagey" for the band’s sound. Twin Sisters, on the other hand nails the production. Everything sounds just right; the guitars have just the right “crunch”, the bass thumps out the groove and the subtleties of the cymbals are just as apparent as the thumping kick drum. Production-wise this is the best sounding stoner doom record of the year.

The music complements the excellent production to a T. Monster riffs abound with all kinds of great lead work and some wonderfully excessive, but brief, effects. Underneath all the boogie, though, things are just a bit odd. There are lots of chromatic runs and slightly weird chord voicings. You could miss them if you just want a rockin’ summer road trip album, but they give the record a great additional level for repeated listens. The effect is improved by the band otherwise adhering to genre tropes, rather than venturing into “progressive” or “experimental” territory. The closest parallel is Priestess' Prior to the Fire (one of my favourite metal albums).

With Bandcamp stoner doom is getting to be a crowded space. And while there is lots of excellent traditional doom metal there, between the bong worshipping excess of Eastern European bands and the coat of filth that American bands tend to apply. But there are few bands even attempting this kind of straightforward music, let alone pulling it off with such aplomb, and so successfully walking the line between rocking and weird.

Fuck the Facts - Desire Will Rot

By Matt Hinch. Canada’s Fuck the Facts have long been known for their intensity both in the live environment and on record. Having witnessed them perform in the most intimate of spaces (a living room) I can attest to that. Their ability to bring that energy into the studio is what has positioned FtF as one of Canada’s greatest current metal exports but also as a well respected entity outside those borders.

By Matt Hinch.

Artwork by Mel Mongeon

Canada’s Fuck the Facts have long been known for their intensity both in the live environment and on record. Having witnessed them perform in the most intimate of spaces (a living room) I can attest to that. Their ability to bring that energy into the studio is what has positioned FtF as one of Canada’s greatest current metal exports but also as a well respected entity outside those borders. While they haven't rested on their laurels, new album Desire Will Rot is the first time they've captured the magic on a full-length record since 2011’s Die Miserable. It seems like forever but the Ottawa-based grindcore quintet has lost none of the fire that made that album so good.

With a band like FtF one can never be too sure of what to expect. Desire Will Rot makes good on that statement adding some surprising elements to their potent mix of grind and death metal. But of course, save the nearly 8-minute ambient/noise track "Circle", the intensity rarely lets up ensuring maximum aural carnage.

From the opening track, "Everywhere Yet Nowhere" the fierceness of their grind slaps the listener right in the face. Vocalist Mel Mongeon and bassist/vocalist Marc Bourgon trade off his low growls with her feral screams, sending heartbeats racing as guitarists Topon Das and Johnny Ibay try keeping pace with drummer Mathieu Vilandre. This tornado of hateful emotion continues unchecked in one form or another throughout the album. Except the aforementioned (but still cool) "Circle".

Photos © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

Fuck the Facts plunge headlong from one riff to another leaving a stream of twisted bodies in their wake. Much of the time the mood is just plain mean even though the members are anything but. However, they never stick to one mode for too long, shifting from grinding blasts to groovy death metal to powerful doom, often in the same, short song. That’s where they excel though.

Stitching together disparate elements, multitudes of riffs and moods as effortlessly as they do is what sets them apart. No matter how abrupt the change it always feels natural. Instead of alienating the listener by keeping them constantly off balance, they reward them with yet another intense section to sink their moshing teeth into.

"Storm of Silence" illustrates this point (and the unexpected element) perfectly. Ascendant guitars reach beyond the pummeling deathgrind loaded with vicious intent and intense blasts to compound the cathartic release through a series of stops and starts culminating in a very non-grind shredding solo from Das. It’s the kind of track (along with its follow-up "Solitude") that keeps the listener guessing but not waiting.

Photos © John Mourlas. All rights reserved.

Desire Will Rot just keeps getting stronger as it goes along. "False Hope" is just outstanding. Das weaves intricacies and temperate melody into the violence. The inertial reaction to the whipping shifts in direction is almost sickening. Blasting grind meets death metal with brief room to breathe and massive hauling doom all tied together with a melody that makes it all feel so cleansing. If the album stopped right there it would feel right but it’s not called "False Hope" for nothing.

After "Circle" the album closes out with "Nothing Changes". Chugging rhythms and quiet/loud dynamics punish with melody bubbling beneath the dark surface. Overall it’s a different turn from the grinding nature but they put no less into it. Each successive note feels like another nail in the coffin until it abruptly rises from that eternal sleep with an air of triumph and unstoppable determination shaded by revenge.

Fuck the Facts, through Desire Will Rot are all about the intensity, creativity and uncompromised savagery. The only concessions they make are the ones they choose to and not without good reason. Every grinding blast, every death metal charge, every vocal growl or shriek stabs deep unleashing a flurry of emotions from violent to mournful. But one thing is for certain, you won’t stand still. The desire to throw yourself head first into any and every obstacle will rot within until it is fulfilled. Desire Will Rot is the sort of grindcore album that takes you over, and works you over until the final note. It’s inescapable.

Transmissions from the Tree of Woe, Volume 1

By Atanamar Sunyata. I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about metal, but those thoughts have failed to coalesce into the ever elusive “album review” of late. Max has been so kind as to give me a venue for this firehose of metal mindfulness. Please consider this the first in a series of first person posts featuring whatever the fuck is tickling my brain. You have been warned.

By Atanamar Sunyata.

I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about metal, but those thoughts have failed to coalesce into the ever elusive “album review” of late. Max has been so kind as to give me a venue for this firehose of metal mindfulness. Please consider this the first in a series of first person posts featuring whatever the fuck is tickling my brain. You have been warned. Besides, I don’t believe in objectivity.

Artwork by Paul Romano

Withered are a band with a singular vision; they've rubbed dank drabs of Sunlight sound on black metal and drowned it all in atmospheric doom. Their warm, subterranean sonic adventures return frequently to my playlist. Withered are also a band due for a new album. Their fourth LP is on the way, and it was recently revealed that Colin Marston (Gorguts, Krallice, everything) plays bass on the recording. This news sent me off into a Withered wormhole where I discovered the band's dedicated Bandcamp page. Therein can be found Folie Circulaire, the band's second album and my favorite to date. Enough will never be had.

Artwork by Adam Peterson

Nile also have a new album on the way, and the death metal devotee in me is cautiously optimistic. My history with the band is checkered. I bought Amongst the Catacombs of Nephren-Ka sight unseen from the Relapse Resound catalog when it first came out. As archaic as the idea sounds today, a physical music & merch catalog had a powerful pull on my 20 year old self. That album was an instant classic in my ears, and I ended up seeing the band live a few too many times in that era. I burned out on Nile after Black Seeds of Vengeance, reconnecting only a decade later. The love affair has continued on and off through the band's catalog, flaring up and flaming out by turns. Their new album will no undoubtedly be absent from Bandcamp (Nuclear Blast are stubborn fucks), but the Relapse era LPs are all there. My favorite Nile albums at the moment are Amongst the Catacombs , Annihilation of the Wicked, and Those Whom the Gods Detest (from Nuclear Blast). I'm hoping What Should Not Be Unearthed will rate.




As love affairs go, my Martyrdöd man-crush is unrelenting. Their stellar performance at Maryland Deathfest cemented the band's status as most heroic purveyors of addictive d-beat by way of melodic NWOBHM dual-guitar mastery. Riffs, son. Riffs.

Martyrdöd at MDF. Awful photo by Atanamar

Call this music whatever you want, but it's simply incomparable. That's a problem, of course; I want more. Having said that, I have no allegiance to d-beat, crust, or any of its accoutrements. In fact, I could care less.

Cover collage by Vladimír Vacovský

A balm for that crusty Swedish longing appeared out of nowhere, though, to take the edge off. Say hello to Gattaca. Again, d-beats and crusty punk mechanizations are merely tools of the band's trade. Their self-titled LP is a vessel of dark melody, raging riff-torrents, and satisfying story-arcs. Imagine seering snippets of Neurosis if they could comprehend brevity, or early Pelican on a boatload of amphetamines. Also, Gattaca are vegans; this is relevant to my interests. I dig.

Cover painting by Dan Alex Rivera.

I recently received an album promo by a band proudly calling their music "Dissonant Death Metal." This was jarring; I've described dozens of death metal albums as dissonant, but I've never seen it called out as a thing, a discrete genre to which bands might aspire. I love me some Gorguts, and I enjoy many of the fruits that have sprouted from their sonic loins (Artificial Brain, Pyrrhon, Auroch, etc). That style of music, however, loses its appeal when dissonance itself becomes the focus; there are a lot of skronking hot, technically proficient turds floating around these days. I was surprised, then, to actually be drawn into the album of which I speak. Dystrophy claim allegiance to unrest and incongruity, but they possess the rare gift of songwriting skill. Amidst riffs that threaten to rend space and time, engaging currents of sensibility hold sway. Wretched Host is eminently earworthy and may scratch an aural itch their contemporaries miss.



Until next time, ponder the riddle of steel.