Bane - Esoteric Formulae

 #FOR FANS OF: Black Metal, Dissection

Sharing the name of one of Batman's most impotent villains in recent - Christopher Nolan stylized - memory, Bane is your friendly neighborhood black metal band, not-so-recently transplanted into the permafrost of the Great White North to irk those Canucks who say 'ehh', but not enough to the point of lodging any actual complaint. With abundant similarities to Dark Fortress and early Dissection, Bane brings a swath of sounds, all mystified by dry ice and diet black metal in the form of catchy riffs, relentless melodies, and as many allusions to darkness and chaos as one can squeeze into an album. Throughout 'Esoteric Formulae' is a new Bane bringing a sound that continuously promises such chaos but, due to its rigid pacing, some bottlenecks in songwriting, an air of propriety over pummel, and very rehearsed cries into that certain chasm, the chaos is less pronounced as opposed to the stuffy professionalism and strong musicianship presented by these battle-hardened death/black metallers. A bit too preened and perfected to feel raw, intense, and cold, the echoes of loud guitar and swaths of vocals lose the coldness that is mentioned throughout the album in favor of a more hearty expression of metal's guitar power over a dark and evil atmosphere.

Though the lineup featuring session guitarists, an aggressive drummer, and orchestral bookends may make Bane seem like a full-time group on paper, this album and the band's direction is very much dictated by Brainslav Panić, a twenty-eight year old musician from Serbia with a great grasp of the varying finishes of metal that may color an album cover and its various reminiscences. Variety plays out across the board from the more traditional sound of a song like “Reign in Chaos”, which takes a basic and accessible approach bordering on a familiar pop-punkish - think a slower and more accentuated aesthetic to Atreyu's “Ex's and Oh's” - verse in its lead riff, to embracing a sharp and purely evil sound in “Wretched Feast” and “Into Oblivion”. Where these latter two tracks hit the mark, aided by the input of guitarists Giulio Moschini from Hour of Penance and Amduscias from Temple of Baal, Bane's death metal side comes through as a more genuine and enjoyable approach than its lighter and theatrical black metal sound that seems more than a little lost in this wilder neck of the woods.

Employing the classic two-throated mask with high screams and low growls combining to form a mid-ranged hum, the onrushes of hatred in the vocals show themselves as far less drastic than Deicide or imperial as Behemoth, a drama that fails to capture anguish or even hint at the “chaos and confusion” so readily described in the lyrics. Rather, these dulcet invocations of a dark almighty show a larger bottleneck in Bane's formula that becomes as flat as a warm root beer sitting open in a cupholder during the third hour of a summer's road trip.

Fantastic at sinking hooks into an audience early on in each song, Brainslav seems to find trouble elaborating through these tracks with more than a cursory glance at evolution throughout each structure as opposed to eloping with the first bit of inspiration that comes to mind and marrying it to the flow of a three minute exploration of its curves. This makes for clear and obvious distinctions through the album between the traditional tones riffing through “Beneath the Black Earth” and “Reign in Chaos” compared to the shrill imperial intensity of “The Calling of the Eleven Angels” or the melodeath money track “Bringer of Pandimensional Disorder”. With Trivium intersecting with Dark Fortress in the latter, Behemoth opening the album, or NWOBHM taking the reigns to a trot, Bane is not so much building a bridge between death and black metal, but very clearly defining these distinctions without chaining all of these well-explored lands into a domain of Brainslav's chaos to round out these songs in anything more a singular series. This shoring up of borders by territory without unifying each country under a central system results in many disparate adventures but fails to draw together a cohesive direction or any experimental distractions from these one-dimensional songs espousing simply “chaos and confusion” for the “dark ones” with about as much personality and nuance as an interstellar Space Marine shouting “Blood for the Blood God” at every onslaught of orcs.

In spite of its varied song openings, Bane becomes bland as it overtly invokes its 'Esoteric Formulae' by bringing melodic riffs and a standard verse-chorus style buffeted by double bass and languishing with little variation. From this construction comes a structure bearing some striking similarities to Dark Fortress, Dimmu Borgir, and bits of later Nightside Glance, where melody supplants itself as the appealing focus of a band more apt to bathe in moonlight rather than ensconce itself in a cave as percussion blasts religion and tillable land away with a constant creep of impenetrable drumroll artillery. Still, shrillness makes little appearance. Bane's guitars have their tear but, with such wispy and airy delivery, fill the register with a hollow and localized Potemkin bustle that barely populates its soundscape enough to cause cavalcades when engulfed in flame. The side streets are empty, there is little more than the surface to observe, and it becomes a show of strength without the economy of ideas to back up such a faithful front.

Textural issues also plague this album's production. Too many times the snare snaps disappear behind the bassy mix, simply keeping time without finding places to accentuate that animosity so ready to rile an audience. Honza Kapák's drumming sparsely brings the blasting appeal that should show off the speed of the snare, erupting only at title moments throughout each song. This becomes a somewhat disappointing sound that echoes this absence of agency that accentuates the approach of bass behind melody but denies the rapidity and atonality of percussion so purposeful and unforgiving in the standard second wave style of black metal. A hollow hallow, as diametrically opposed to the desire of a band that seeks a professional mix, makes the sound of the underground and something as overproduced as the guitars in this album ruins the overall mix as much as each song's singular approach bottlenecks the release.

'Esoteric Formulae' leaves me feeling blocked by the Berlin Wall, observing through binoculars the failures of an entirely separate society, culture, and system on the other side with which there is no doubt that an even reconciliation will never occur. Constant descriptions of chaos come from an album so hell-bent on sticking to a single-minded prescribed plan that it gives off a feeling of many missing parts in this segregated series of songs, all in need of elaboration and fresh movements to stitch together a memory of this album. But each movement is only able to stick to its system lest they be cut from this path for the corruption it could bring to the integrity of a band that refuses to branch out with more expressive, unique, or devious deviations. The only collapse may come from within to bring about a new day as much as others may naysay such a stalwart and conclusive mindset, and the strength of this barricade ensures the impasse between both the mindsets of musician and its audience.

While Brainslav has his abilities and surely shows them while creating an album ready to reproduce in a live setting, it seems this leader is too willing to marry each idea to a single song without bringing in the plural partners necessary to create harems of harmony in these tracks, those that ensure the modernity and brilliance in blackened death metal that take a band from singularly seeing songs in a straight path to delicately balancing between fluid as well as fluctuation, showing the strength of each element in order to flourish and play with the improvisation that heavy metal is based in.

This is the main issue in 'Esoteric Formulae'. Here is an album rife with potential and proper production, but so brittle in substance and tightly laced that it would flow more elaborately if each song had its repetitive songwriting tropes boiled off and all of these great moments were incorporated into a bite sized snack EP rather than saddled with upholding a full-length meal so burdened by gristle that the first moments of each track are enough to understand the labor of the next three minutes of vicious chewing. Where are the solos in this album? Where are the drastic changes in pace, the nuanced steps that uplift these melodies, and drumming fills that move a song out of its comfortable one-riff verse-chorus cycle? Harmonies gorgeously come through in abundance with flying rejoinders to slice through the helix of guitars, but through the restrained drumming and songwriting that holds together “Beneath the Black Earth”, this is the only place where a solo attempts to make an appearance. Where it could have flown for a time, the segment's creativity is quashed by the flow of harmony rather than allowed a moment of unique expression and individuality. Another guitarist could have taken that place and made it his own. Instead Brainslav is showing slavish adherence to his own 'Esoteric Formulae' and quashing any agency, only allowing momentary space for friends where he would be better off enlisting longstanding allies for a fuller undertaking. Maybe I didn't get the memo, but I expect that somewhere in a bit of “chaos and confusion” there would result in a bit more scattering of multitudes than having each element in this wide berth of musicians and instruments wheel lockstep at every turn like an elite command crushing colonial contingents.

What makes a sharp difference between so many one-man bands against so many full groups is that the one-man situation tends to end up in a bottleneck. Here it shows that even in attempting variety, the bottleneck is in the songwriting department where Brainslav sticks against all odds to his verse-chorus formula, sparse on bridges and even sparser on deviations, while his session musicians show plenty of personality among the languishing and overly-thought flow of this album. Brainslav indulges his melodies well, I don't have to have heard all of his music to understand that as a major strength, but he needs fresh impulses to conduct his flows in order to generate the electricity necessary to power an audience to devotion.

Where Bane does hit the mark is in its unexpected and thankfully expansive places. “Burning the Remains” brings the classic second wave of black metal sound across well with a few death metal guitar crunches to drive the point home, finally bridging a bit of a gap between death and black styles, the vocals even inhaling the scent of a decomposing raven in order to accentuate the cracking knuckles of cold in the guitars, and finding brutality in its melodic melancholy. Such an astute show of force in this song dispels any thought that Bane simply didn't know what sound would make the day, but consciously attempted avoiding it for as long as possible in search of a streamline to keep each song in place. The by-the-numbers sounds in the lighter songs throughout the album make for potent and enjoyable listens totally out of this expected scope as “Burning the Remains” caps a run that made “Wretched Feast” and “Into Oblivion” stand so brutally far out.

The money track, “Bringer of Pandimensional Disorder” has an astounding lead riff. Brutalized by blast beating and harmonized to the hilt, this song cannot help but bring the most memorable moments in the album while so elegantly gliding towards the all-too-forgettable chorus that keeps repeating the title. Great at arranging his music but in need of fresher ideas, this song brings hope that Bane will continue to bring out the best in a riff even in spite of its lacking direction as a piece like this, even on its best footing, ends up in the hands of too many surface sounds rather than digging deeper below a hatred that even Bullet for my Valentine harmonizes about but never really grasps.

Finally getting downright crunchy in achievement of what had been lacking throughout the previous twenty-eight minutes, “Acosmic Forces of the Nightside” allows the guitars to flow from gritty riffing moments into melodies through a beautiful interplay, flirting with the arena style of NWOBHM, and showing that Brainslav can concoct an expansive sound with a bit of edge to it. There is hope on the horizon that Bane can be coaxed into this more varied, improvisational, and complex creativity rather than simply sitting on a single sound as though it will get up and bite the band's backside. If the rest of the album had this sort of approach, I would be much more receptive to 'Esoteric Formulae' due to its progressive propensities rather than relentless restrictions. Rather, things are the other way around and Bane is far too enamored with sticking to 'Formulae' without too many sprinklings of the 'Esoteric', ending up playing host to too many insipid bottlenecked moments that fail to make a memorable impact, sightseeing in the realm of accessibility without much exploration even there, in spite of its incessant invocations of dark deities.

Fomulaic in substance and barely esoteric in aesthetic, Bane seems to be living far too in kind with one of its homonyms. Bane finds its esoteric aesthetic hampered by too many power metal moments dulling its blade and making more theater out of its sacrificial show than conjuring the forthright notions of the reclusive ritual for which black metal is better known. Even in its darkest hour, 'Esoteric Formulae' is far too accustomed to the rays of the Sun, burning off its thin atmosphere as well as its poisonous potency. Luckily, there are no egregious moments of cringe on this album but it also seems like that sort of zealous venture out on a limb wouldn't have ever entered the members' minds going into the album either. Brainslav could do well to find ways to express himself with more variety between each hook and chorus so as to avoid pigeonholing each track into a single tone and direction. Though the album employs variety in its approaches, it doesn't take them much farther than these basic beginnings, which comes across as though a flat trajectory results from each song's blast off and ends up without atmosphere or compelling reasons to stick around after the first thrust of melodies is exhausted. Surely there is more on the cutting room floor than made it into this release because this album can't help but feel like it is missing many pieces. (Five_Nails)

(Black Market Metal Label - 2018)
Score: 75

https://baneband.bandcamp.com/album/esoteric-formulae

Gutwrench - The Art of Mutilation

#FOR FANS OF: Death Metal, Autopsy

A very short-lived death metal band from the early days of the subgenre, Gutwrench is the Dutch response to a steadily fragmenting series of death metal styles at the time. With its cohesive and crushing sound, the band harnesses the unhinged intensity of New York death metal, the speed and screaming treble of the Florida sound, and the cavernous horror hiding Sweden's sickness. 'The Art of Mutilation' is a compilation and re-release of the two demos that Gutwrench had delivered within a year and a half period from March of 1993 to September of 1994. The first five tracks comprise 'Wither Without You' while 'Beneath Skin' makes up the final six tracks. Between both of these demos is a previously unreleased song, “Asphyxia”, that serves as a strong transition between these two distinctly different demos.

'Wither Without You' is the exact sort of filthy, meaty, thickly textured metal that spreads teeth and sticks deeply into gums and ribs. Whereas a slice of early rhythm in “Meatlocker” would see its cousin come up in Lamb of God's “In the Absence of the Sacred”, Gutwrench throws that sound into a dike filled with sewerage as the quintet quashes any notion that the percussive New York style was a fluke. Emerging in 1993, this cavernous and hammering cassette was initially distributed by Displeased Records, a company that would also go on to sign the likes of Nile, Cryptopsy, Deeds of Flesh, Disgorge, and plenty of other easily dropped names that pad many a metalhead's collection. Displeased seems to have known the direction the sound would take over time but somehow Gutwrench got lost in the race.

Gutwrench's sound is not only a fascinated with the viscous 'Effigy of the Forgotten' swamp that had overtaken the death metal world at the time, but it provides the variety necessary to keep its sound fresh and appealing with some Swedish as well as Florida licks along with a good sense of flow and groove making “Crawl” live up to its namesake. A great harmony setting off “Necrosis”, sounding a bit bluesy and plenty doomy with some melancholic flair, achieves the pummeling style that we all know and love as it malignantly mutates. However, in Autopsy fashion, Gutwrench drags the song into the dirt so that skin can fester and maggots can feast, malleting those 'Mental Funeral' moments into a coffin fit for an infant.

Gutwrench enjoys the call and response of scraping strings as cymbals storm through the milliseconds between them, creating an unhinged sound that grooves as much as it growls. This makes the storm of guitars in the title track crash with a thick backdrop of swirling cymbal winds and stomp on paper cities like a '50s Japanese monster. The rudimentary beginnings of this band show the strength of death metal's direction through the early '90s, one that relied on raw talent and beastly riffage rather than focusing on production value and incorporating tropes from other styles to create an exquisite sound that grabs an ear. Gutwrench is sheer aggression pushing its limits and making mincemeat out of its audience, fitting seamlessly into its time and unfortunately having been lost by the wayside during its hangover.

'Beneath Skin' comes right out the gate bearing some some striking moments with a most familiar shrill scream across the treble, rising in a harmony, that has me thinking of later more accessible bands and takes its middling pace a step or two into melodic death metal territory as it leans more towards the Gothenburg style that, by 1994, was firmly planting itself. At its heart though, Gutwrench is still a death metal band that thrashes its way 'Beneath Skin' and stomps on the exposed bones of the “Scarred and Hollow”. An overflowing putrescence of riffing and blasting makes such a dissection drown in reverberating muck before finding a rise in an echoing flying riff joined by double bass and pounding snare to make the most encompassing moments in the production erupt from their elaborate catacombs like a startled swarm of bats. Simultaneously gorgeous and treacherous, the massive and meaty “Cain” brings that New York crush to the fore before brutalizing a melody until a snippet of soloing brings this frenzy rampaging to bloody conclusion featuring a slight hint of the synth that Enslaved would ride into nihil nearly a decade later in “The Dead Stare”.

Like the obscurity in which these demos reside, the members of Gutwrench maintained marginal roles in the death metal underground with guitarist Edwin Fölsche being the only member to come up again in as recognizable a band as Pentacle, playing guitars on the 1996 EP 'The Fifth Moon'. In all, Gutwrench seemed to have moved on long before the turn of the millennium and the beginning of this new era where underground sounds are so easily accessed and finally giving this band its deserved due. Dirty, corroded, and very much a product of its time, Gutwrench's short output is as enjoyable as it is a time capsule, filled with gems from decades past and buried in the rough underground but entirely worth being unearthed. (Five_Nails)

(Vic Records - 2018)
Score: 85

https://www.facebook.com/Gutwrench-Holland-243787062452594/

Soul Dissolution - Nowhere

#FOR FANS OF: Atmospheric Post Black, Drudkh

Taking quite a different direction from the style of 'Stardust' and the naked anguish of its earliest releases, Soul Dissolution finds itself tightening up its box step as it marks time on a road to 'nowhere'. A release that so quickly follows the previous full-length that its oblique step seems sudden, this EP, really a long pair of flowing wandering tracks, features many of the expected emotional movements that bring the same styles that permeate Soul Dissolution's soundscape. However, this iteration of Soul Dissolution finds more meaningful spots at which to stop and take in the scenery before moving on through a journey that incorporates melancholic meandering, violent fits, a scale that sounds more indie than it is metallic, and altogether shows Soul Dissolution becoming more of its own band than ever before while stripping itself down to its barest minimum.

Raw searing guitar wanders in search of direction and an escape from anguish as the “Road to Nowhere” unfolds in front of a lost and alone band that cannot help but gallop down its path when the winds take it. Wailing soloing takes the hand of a riff and throws it into the sky, giving it the spirit of flight as the companions embrace a moonlit sky. This song flies like a depressed ET riding in the basket of an empty bicycle, and in its solemnity still finds a satisfying structural sequence.

Venturing from the moonlit fields down abandoned trails to a gallop and tear reminiscent of a sobbing Satyricon, Soul Dissolution searches through fog and untamed growth for what will finally bring it out of this empty embrace of death. A slight and subtle lead guitar comes, shimmering as it catches the tearful eye, followed by a once forgotten friend as privation passes in glorious warmth as a revelation dawns in the “Fading Darkness”. Where so many parts of Soul Dissolution's style have been preoccupied with stripping songs down and, through dire circumstance, finding nothing but desolation, this “Fading Darkness” could be a turning point on the twosome's trail.

The flower of Drudkh could help the band stitch closed the ruptures in its breaking heart, the harmony of Ulver could propel this project forward from its desolate confines, but in many ways Soul Dissolution still languishes in its general malaise and that reality leaves me sad, not for the projected melancholy but because of the lack of self-actualization. Dispossessed by so many possibilities against the overwhelmingly strict sensibilities of this project, it seems there is a fear of stepping forward into these newly shining rays. Maybe it's because Jabawock can't allow himself to free with the possibilities on his horizons, maybe it's because of his desire to further sink into a restrictive format, but it seems 'nowhere' is Soul Dissolution unlocking a box that it has spent years building around itself and just may begin to venture from in the future if it just takes that one step. The band has gone from stripping a sound down in a song to stripping itself of its own identity album by album and now with 'nowhere' has shown that it is truly becoming that lost being which the universe has been constantly out to destroy. Usually when a band rips itself of its identity it eventually rises from those ashes, fighting like life always does to make it against all odds. With Soul Dissolution it's tough to guess whether it will rise anew and attempt an awakening or will find itself again at the behest of the cold strife that has borne it for so many years. Entropy has entangled itself into Soul Dissolution's structure, will Jabawock and company finally break these bonds? (Five_Nails)

(GS Productions - 2018)

Score: 70

https://souldissolution.bandcamp.com/album/nowhere?t=1

Maze of Feelings - S/t

#FOR FANS OF: Death/Doom, Paradise Lost, Lacuna Coil

In spite of its off-putting Emo name that seems to dilute the vengeance inflicted by a Morbid Angel track, Maze of Feelings does display a solid mid-paced doom/death metal style that kicks around its grooving riffs with a balance of accessible and underground elements. Though the maze itself is mainly a series of dead depressive ends, the band is able to distill its melancholy in myriad ways including tears of tremolos that are gracefully laid into a breaking section in “Where Orphaned Daughters Cry”, a nasty riff harpooning “Necrorealistic” into one's brain and dragging him through a beatdown reminiscent of early Paradise Lost rhythms, and a cold remorseless run in “Adherents of Refined Severity” that chases you through this disorienting labyrinth in the hope of finally striking you down with its razor sharp axe.

With two distinct vocalists cleanly singing, screaming, whispering, speaking, and growling throughout the album, the instrumental range compliments the spread with nods to Paradise Lost and Lacuna Coil, thundering bass across the spectrum of sound in some instances and methodically dragging melodies from dungeons into the sun at other times. In doom metal fashion, an anvil cymbal steadily strikes behind bellows of double bass tightening the treble's fetters and keeping it from escaping the weight below. A very Tool sounding riff to the closing track, “Dreamcatcher”, opens a song that accentuates the more gothic lilt to the doom sound that Maze of Feelings captures. While the band may bridge on some melodic death metal aesthetic in its vocals and some of its denser guitar moments, the majority of this album sticks closely to its doom template, experimenting with some gothic theater, and reigning in its pace from the first chugging riffing in “Drained Souls Asylum” to find its footing deeper in depression than screaming for vengeance.

As long drawn out melodies fight with a freight train of growling in “Cold Sun of Borrowed Tomorrow”, grappling with the high vocals and pulled to punishment by a laborious pacing, the downtrodden trope of a riff that opens “Grey Waters of Indifference” conjures memories of when this sort of sound was new and cool rather than common and overdone in many imitations. Still, Maze of Feelings is able to take the standard style and find success, but without the energy and power of some of the bands with which it shares its space.

'Maze of Feelings' is not without its faults and nadirs. While the crying sample at the end of “When Orphaned Daughters Cry” could have simply been left out of that quality piece, the band seems to have stuck more to the doom designation and accentuated it with different aesthetics rather than explored the conventions that could achieve the full potential of the band's ideas. Songs like “Necrorealistic”, “Dreamcatcher”, and “Drained Souls Asylum” start off with distinction just to end up running into the same dead ends, something expected when caught in a maze as sunlight fades, yet the gothic and more aggressive movements show that there's more to this band than simply playing the doom metal trope of taking a good start and constantly cornering it. The mid-paced structuring that uses its sure footing to find places to gallop and smoothly exaggerate is a strong starting template and Maze of Feelings would do well to take that template farther as the band goes along in order to better appreciate the instrumental talent lending itself to the theater at the forefront.

Maze of Feelings is a band that seems to revel in its familiarity and is set to inch its way towards making its own mark. Moments throughout this album show small points of individual personality, the instrumentation naturally rides its reveries as well as accentuates the theater in the vocals, but the band still has yet to truly come into its own. Here's hoping that these talented musicians can find an energy that compliments the ability gathered in this quintet. (Five_Nails)

(BadMoonMad Music - 2018)
Score: 70

https://badmoodmanmusic.bandcamp.com/album/maze-of-feelings

Barren Canyon - World of Wounds

#FOR FANS OF: Atmospheric Black, Lustre

With the flowery synth that would make Lustre blush, Barren Canyon lulls a listener with a catharsis of calm, a slight hint of danger, and sprinkles of mystery in its sophomore full-length. Six minutes later, “Congress of Oak” unleashes hell with a disastrous tumble down a cliff's edge, ripping clothes on spiked rocks, flaying skin off snapping bones, and introducing a new victim to its 'World of Wounds'. In two long tracks comprising a formidable full-length, this Toronto twosome fills just over thirty-five minutes with an evocative soundscape that conjures images of Ents creaking as they sway and deliberating in whispers of winds before growling at Isengard and beginning a march to destroy the decadence that so devastated Fangorn Forest. Fury comes in clouds of guitar resonance, shrill shrieking screams of synth and string alike, black metal blasting, and long rolling fills all backed by an unwavering drawn-out chanting and wisps of melodies that heave forward wave after wave of arboreal animosity. However, with that fury comes anguish at the devastation wrought throughout such a tumultuous song as “Congress of Oak” comes to a close.

“Taiga Blooms” has an almost air raid siren sound to its wailing treble across the top, screaming at the headache induced by a blizzard and giving voice to the trees cracking and snapping in the icy winds. Eventually the song quiets itself to that mysterious synth again, as though the bridge of the Enterprise is on standby mode with only that annoying whistling at Uhura's station occupying the dormant stations. Layering keyboards below this sound makes for a cavernous exploration of a palatial cave, as if humans are discovering a lost dwarven city beneath a mountain before accidentally tripping on a switch that sets its forge chugging into life and choking out when the coal fails to enter the furnace. Leaving the abandoned and undermined mountain to see that night has fallen across the snowy forest, the straying synth gently coaxes your neck upwards to observe the menagerie of stars gracefully igniting the sky, leaving the traverse illuminated in a shimmering back and forth between distant glimmers and welcoming powders. “Taiga Blooms” when a silent tranquility blankets a biome and all animals who inhabit it stop for a moment simply to observe the peace, a serenity finally found in the end of so many tragedies and terrors.

Barren Canyon does well to observe the animation of the animal kingdom among the tranquility of timbers and honors both with a longing sound that rises to the vivacious occasion of a beating heart while noting its impermanence among generational growths, let alone ages of stars. (Five_Nails)

(Avantgarde Music - 2018)
Score: 75

https://avantgardemusic.bandcamp.com/album/world-of-wounds

Decayed - The Burning of Heaven

#FOR FANS OF: Black/Death

Reveling in the black metal sound that typified the extremity of the early '90s, Decayed is one of Portugal's early adopters of the intense esoteric style and has run with it for decades. Having released eleven full-length albums by the debut of 'The Burning of Heaven' as well as numerous demos, splits, EPs, and compilations, the trio has been a prolific – albeit marginal and overlooked – member of the scene since 1990.

After a short prologue, the title track storms out the gate with the untamed fury that only heavy metal can bring. Shrieking guitar solos and throats ripping from agonized screams, a harsh atmosphere of raw resonance as the pitter-patter of double bass falls like rain below a hail of cymbal strikes, Decayed brings Armageddon and it is none too discomforting even through a crushing change of pace halfway into this eleven minute thrashing. Instead, Armageddon is a party as Heaven burns and the slaughter is merely the sick game in which Decayed is enthralled. Punishing that petulant paradise with perdition's passionate press, armies of angels melt under the crush of demonic weight like so many damned souls plunged into the lake of fire. Revenge is here for the dark deity and it comes in sweeps and blasts as this absolute monster of a title track tears through.

Much of the album flies by like winged demons farting fire, distant screams become a chorus of horror descending upon cities, rending stereocilia from inner ears, and melting the membranes of eyes. The shrill “Son of Satan” hails the newborn Antichrist with its unambiguous and direct victuals of Satanic allegiance before the mystical prognostications of “Dark Soul - The Prophecy” begin the march to a universal war that makes all historical human horrors seem like skirmishes in scale. The chaotic onslaught of “War of the Gods”, the heaving weight of “Defy Thy Master”, and the liberal use of crisp cymbal crashes throughout “The Mirror of Usire” furiously wrap up the main album while a second segment comes to the fore.

As if the depravity of the underworld and the genocide of a realm of righteous supernatural beings wasn't enough, 'The Burning of Heaven' comes with an added EP hailing the 'Night of Demons' with its own coven of horny witches starting the show. Covering Motorhead in “Deaf Forever” and following it up with a shift into “Cravado Na Cruz” that again joins the chorus of songs reveling in an inverted revelation and wreaking havoc with genuine glee, Decayed refuses to let up as it peppers bits of campy fun into its frenetic standard. Unlike many a modern black metal band reveling in melancholy and lamenting the task of turning terror and torture into a fresh tome, Decayed ensures that the wickedness of a smile on one's face is the last thing many a weeping angel may see as it serenades unholy hosts with such unrepentant and charming madness. (Five_Nails)

(Helldprod Records - 2016)
Score: 75

https://decayed666.bandcamp.com/album/the-burning-of-heaven

Into Eternity - The Sirens

#FOR FANS OF: Melo Death Metal

Debuting its first full-length in a decade, Into Eternity arrives with a vengeance devastating body and mind, triumphing over bitter frosts and radioactive winds alike. As riffs exert themselves across expansive metric swaths, a massive sound aggressively erupts below in tireless blasting and crisp precision. This Saskatchewan quintet brings such a palpable zeal to the opening half of 'The Sirens' that it becomes impossible not to be swept up by the metal trope of screaming into the swirl of a tornado. That is, until the tropes themselves become all too apparent.

The silence behind the opening riff to the album, turning a title track from an isolated classical scale into a willful wail of animated bedlam sets off a series of intense songs that crash like waves against rocks, drawing in fleets with beautiful harmonies until the gravity smashes their cedars and grinds them into the clouds of silt billowing below the black waters. Into Eternity has a knack for lulling a listener into its accessible moments before bewildering them with the death metal intensity buffeting each melody, Homer would be proud. In this vein, with male gutturals and clean vocals from Tim Roth (guitars) and Troy Bleich (bass) joining shrieks and clean singing from Amanda Kiernan, the band has mastered its multi-tiered assault on the senses with drastic and expressive changes that build layers of emotional gravity to the band's overall tone to consistently deliver a gorgeous treble end and spread it across an unrelenting backdrop.

Sure to be crowd pleasers, the straightforward rampage that is “The Fringes of Psychosis” with its very hummable rising chorus, the blossoming solo in “This Frozen Hell” with the persistence and elegance of myriad snowflakes forming rising drifts, and the quick-paced whirl of “Sandstorm” that sweeps in like a whirl of leaves in autumn and dissipates in fewer than four minutes make for an almost perfect first half, worthy of shining as its own EP. Carnage abounds as the snare rattles, beating each meandering riff that strives to squeeze every bit of nectar out of its nuanced noodly notation. Choruses ring out with electric resonance and create sensational leaps of the heart. Though three of these first four songs average about seven minutes apiece, “Sandstorm” is not only an outlier in its brevity but also because it is actually a seven year old single. With the right delay, airy echo, and distortion, the guitar starting “Sandstorm” still opens with such a dopamine inducing deluge of fury that it seamlessly fits in this strong suit as its chorus wails out from the imposing clouds of percussion devastating the mix. Harnessing the fury of a blizzard, “This Frozen Hell” captures the disillusionment people easily have when confronting their treacherous surroundings. Saskatchewan sounds like a truly awful place to live, and the anger of the band at that massive province of only a million people gives rise to one of very few anthems for such an easily overlooked tundra in the center of Canada. Writing about what the band knows while balancing its destructive death metal gravity with NWOBHM theatrics creates incredibly catchy and fantastically hooking songs, a first half worthy of praise and sure to satisfy the devotion of many a fan.

Simultaneously denoting a turn to weakness as well as a break in the basic formula, “Nowhere Near” is a song that shows Into Eternity stepping out of the cocoon it has built around its structure throughout 'The Sirens'. A simply gorgeous song, “Nowhere Near” opens with expressive clean vocals, a great distortion on Amanda Kiernan's voice in spite of her unnecessarily frying affectation, and acoustic guitar dances circles jigs to a beautiful riff with flying electric guitar sliding in and out. This is a drastic difference from the norm presented throughout this album, but a welcome one that shows a bit more nuance to a band preoccupied with pushing too obvious a format. As the song grows, involving the entire ensemble in its eventual return to form, a great drum rhythm comes in halfway through to give an unexpectedly funky bounce to the song, spiting what was a momentary build up to the blasting we all know so well and creatively using that subversion of expectation to make a memorable moment rise from an out of character song. The band plays off this well by turning it into a great harmony between male and female vocals, the backdrop properly punctuating it to give a deeper impact. However, Into Eternity hasn't totally forgotten the reason why the audience is here, and this fleeting Phil Collins aberration falls to the maelstrom that makes crowds headbang and mosh. The payoff, while another dose of the intensity that has become the expectation throughout the first half of the album, has become such a standard that it doesn't readily impress in spite of the immensity of the build towards such violence. Luckily a solo helps to enhance the requirement, but the reality has sunk in. 'The Sirens' has turned into a very by-the-numbers album, and the lifting of the illusion leads to more disappointment as the album spins.

Here the band begins its decline, losing its novelty along with its zeal and cheapening its tone along with its delivery. In an almost immediately disappointing turn at the halfway point of this fifty minute foray, so much of the previous quality of 'The Sirens' must strive to overcome the scattered bits of overwhelming awfulness reaching up from the waters and chaining it down by its burdensome rear end. Devouring itself it in is own sarcopenia as the band overstays its welcome in these aching spaces, the general songwriting formula becomes all too transparent by the end of the first half of the album just to continue without the flavor and fire that made it melt faces at the onset. The opening tone of “Devoured by Sarcopenia” is commercially derivative. With lame highs that echo without any punch, they only annoy as the harmonies lose the magnetism they once had and the song achieves the atrophy for which it is named. Eventually, the guitars find that classical notation again, fighting against the decay, and utilize it well to give a bit of technique to the song, but its chorus is another inanimate repetition. Where Into Eternity could tier its choruses, add another layer of nuance to its music, and make memorable a bit of challenge to its own conventions, the band reprises the basic formula of worming a harmony into an ear with a sixth song on the album that repeats its title ad nauseum for a chorus.

Even so, “Devoured by Sarcopenia” is excusable. “Fukushima” simply isn't. Another single from yesteryear, this time only six years old and just as irrelevant in a brand new album, the opening is the sort of concentrated cringe that strips corpse paint from even the most zealous pizza face. If you don't make an involuntary noise of disgust when hearing that awfully sappy, obnoxiously echoey, horribly crisp combination belting out “the candles were lit for the dead (the dead), Fukushima” you have such a high tolerance for cringe that you may as well write for The Big Bang Theory because this kind of showboating is just up your alley in order to stomp on the pervasive talent that actually holds this album together. Atonal gutturals barely pronounce the title, wails that would make even a lesbian seagull cry for irradiated Easterners invade unlubricated into ear canals, and an ever-focused eye trained on the almighty dollar typify this transparent capitalization on a real world event, lest profit be forgotten. As music has always had great interest in ensuring -so succinctly put by All Shall Perish- “Better Living Through Catastrophe”, this hard and fast “We Are the World” isn't anything new or special, but boy is it annoying to hear the name of a quadrisyllabic Pacific prefecture belted out by Kiernan like she's Joni Mitchell saving the world by being skinned alive by a thousand feral cats. Metal is so well-known for focusing on tragedy and darkness, unfortunately the only tragedy in this cut is from the carcinogens released by its awful microwave dinner delivery.

As aesthetically focused as these complaints are, the instrumentation throughout 'The Sirens' makes even the most painful of moments worthwhile. The balance of beautiful guitars, rapid blasts that uphold the extreme aspect of melodic death metal, and tight deliveries all around keep this album exciting and inspiring in spite of those moments that lose that veneer. An experienced and lauded outfit, Into Eternity shows its strengths so well that they become standard to its songwriting style. Still, this album feels more like a NWOBHM band pushing a death metal gimmick rather than a melodic death metal band with the history that this group has. Granted, Into Eternity tries its own thing rather than reprising the overtly masculine themes of Amon Amarth or the Gothenburg style of At the Gates, but its maelstrom is quick to languish in its momentum, resting on gimmicky themes and tropes rather than running away with inspiration and thriving.

Picking along its depressive riff and surrounded by delicate violins, “The Scattering of Ashes” redeems “Fukushima” and brings 'The Sirens' to an alluring close. The symmetry presented throughout Into Eternity's return is found throughout the meat of the album with such a focus on maintaining structure against all odds, and sometimes against unique ideas, that the album holds itself back in places by dulling its edge in favor of planting itself into memory as a band replete with basic and catchy choruses. Still, the maelstrom from which the vocals and harmonies claw is daunting and terrific, ensuring a palpable, consistent to a fault, and overall awesome experience. Into Eternity has honed and sharpened some of its most impactful aesthetics, hopefully the overall structure can be renovated and modernized as well to allow this band to survive Saskatchewan for the next decades. (Five_Nails)

 

(Self - 2018)
Score: 75

https://intoeternitysk.bandcamp.com/releases

Sathanas - Necrohymns

#FOR FANS OF: Black/Death

It's nice to hear some black metal with a swing to it, creating a rhythm that's more than an atonal hammering behind impersonal screams. Pennsylvania's Sathanas, now releasing its tenth full-length album, treads this path with a sharp lead guitar over swift double bass and a beatdown hailing from the Florida school of death metal. Its initial impressions impossible to ignore, the impact of “Upon the Wings of Desecration” and “Sacramentum” bring an initial burst of momentum before changing pace so as to propel such a weighty vehicle to conquer the incredible heights for which the treble strives. Like thrusting an eighteen wheeler into its low hill-climbing gear after getting a good run at a rising mountain road, Sathanas ascends the walls of Hell and perches atop the pit, and atop its perch it will stay for this band, born in the uncertainty of extreme metal's early movements, seeks to hone and define its terse and blunt sound.

As many metals melt monuments into the mountains surrounding Hell's sea of fire, and more sophisticated constructs frame perdition with the stately accouterments of a thriving and growing megalopolis, Sathanas' structure stands as a relic hailing the imposing fortress-like brutalism of yesteryear's architectural aesthetic. Its signature ascending arpeggios, screaming through grain and choking on embers, bouncing beats battered by blistering bass, and a filthy snare rhythm joining the fury make “Harbinger of Death” grind bones to dust while digging chains into the wailing walls of souls entombed in the fearsome kingdom. The chaos of this dominion is denoted in the gratifying carnage of a solo springing up from “At the Left Hand of Satan”, the obscure coven in which “Witchcult” practices its damnable rites, and the condemnation of “Raise the Flag of Hell” ensure that the consistency of an aging band retains its potency in venomous vocals and raucous riffing.

Sathanas isn't out to bring a new definition to a genre, attempt to pay homage to the past with young blood and flagging creativity, or to ruin a prolific and lengthy career with an egregious about face. Sathanas instead is honing its craft and reveling in its longevity. While embracing the mass of its sound and preoccupied with expanding its waistline rather than its musical horizons, the band brings the stamina that carries such a heavy burden endlessly upwards and continues to etch finer details into its basic and brutalist building. Still solid under its doughier surroundings, Sathanas stands strong. (Five_Nails)

(Transcending Obscurity Records - 2018)
Score: 70

https://sathanas.bandcamp.com/album/necrohymns-black-death-thrash-metal

Construct of Lethe - Exiler

#FOR FANS OF: Black/Death

Bleak and barbaric, Construct of Lethe creates worlds of cataclysm governed by furious fates and overwhelming oblivion obfuscating its open originality with a haze that drains the color from the land and the living. In a twisted underworld where a guide wearing an azure-plumed hat gazes down the left hand path toward the sea on which subsists a writhing mass frozen in its romantic frenzy, this confinement on the edge of unreason brings the horrified humans to a hopeless realization. There is no salvation as even the Christian visage, crowned in thorns, wails in despair as he demeans himself by reaching out in deference to his new god.

Where a first listen would easily draw comparisons to the dismal crush of Immolation, Construct of Lethe thoroughly explores its confinement with rich and obsessive precision, finding splendid sorts of intrigue in every dingy corner to unearth a new truth of its island while supping from the dark waters of amnesia surrounding it. A churning of constant terror brings itself out even more horrifically when obfuscated by the bewilderment of amnesiac disorientation. This is no oasis, no life-bringing land from which to unburden the confined, but a place of squalor and screams where the fates seek to strip every semblance of sanity from their quarry as the Stygian passage opens to the paths of horror awaiting their true judgment by long ignored deities.

Throughout its bleak forty and a half minutes, moments of color rise, like the cloaked Hermes reveling in his own deified halo as he sets to the light-bringing task of diverting even the son of another god to an Olympian underworld. The confusion, betrayal, and bewilderment show themselves through the hallucinations in “Fugue State”. The liberation from dogmatic principles as holy suns abate comes in sweeping guitars clawing out of blindness and escaping the cradle of madness in blasting fits of “A Testimony of Ruin”, and the rolling reversal, an Immolation mainstay that inverts convention and sensibility in favor of a plummeting pummeling sound, makes “The Clot” hammer a heart into submission.

The Greco-Roman imagery and mixtures of Latin and Greek language in the lyrics accentuate the inescapable darkness throughout 'Exiler', one caused on Earth by the condemned Christ and his cohort now wailing among the insignificant mass, capturing a dauntingly detailed and unapproachably undulating atmosphere where confusion and captivity create a chaotic mindset manically manifesting myths and terrors. Such flights of fancy fantastically reflect the “Fugue State” across the entire album, endlessly blurring the lines between reality and imagination in order to further forge fear in its every aspect.

The opening in “Rot of Augury” is a strong misdirection, laying its melodic soloing with a bevy of blasting behind it as though calmly guiding sheep into a meat grinder. Stabs of soloing in “Soubirous” bring a moment of calm before fresh tortures are unleashed, taking the tone of the album to glimpse the sanctity of Elysium before being subjected to the “Terraces of Purgation” where puking in the background, angels abominably apostatizing, and Latin chanting create a scene as scary as it is goofy. Nilotic pinches ensure that riffing and lilting guitar moments stay fresh and challenging, brash soloing and varied riffing atop an ever-refreshing cavalcade of drumming pay homage to Morbid Angel as the closing song, “Fester in Hesychasm” shows a band with the stamina and range to expansively explore its esoteric notions. This construct is truly horrifying. (Five_Nails)

(Everlasting Spew Records - 2018)
Score: 80

https://constructoflethe.bandcamp.com/album/exiler

Runespell - Order of Vengeance

#FOR FANS OF: Pagan Black, Primordial, Agalloch

Climbing Celtic riffs clamor for control of an ebbing and flowing meter, as though a man with a small spade attempts to tame a river and is repudiated by the tragic incompatibility of his intentions with reality. Yet there is eventually a turn of the tide, forced by an immense will, a slight intervention of deus ex machina, and an ever flowing artistic license that yearns to realize results from recalcitrant ritual. Honoring its name, “Destiny over Discord” overcomes the powerlessness of the poor soul struggling against the tide, breaking its first movement's confinement with a hard pounding and finding space to deviate and move, as though cutting a secondary estuary to alleviate the flow. In small doses, Runespell abandons the Agalloch appeals above its Bathory base in favor of a Primordial persuasion that, in achieving frustrating expectation, illogically disappoints in a feeble attempt to display artistic agency.

When Runespell made its debut with 'Unhallowed Blood Oath', Nightwolf had no shortage of samey riffs and basic black metal to ascribe to his dingy dominion. With a slight handle on harnessing a hollow atmosphere, humidified by raining guitar notes and barely audible blasting moments into his swampy mix, the Australian newcomer's first attempt made for an unimpressive display of down under diligence. Nevertheless, Nightwolf plunges on with his 2018 attempt in 'Order of Vengeance', an equally milquetoast album with an equally vague title that somehow extinguishes the small and distant flicker of hope that once emanated from this bland bedroom. Where 'Unhallowed Blood Oath' had the potential to presage a pivot after an initial display of prowess, 'Order of Vengeance' plods down the same safe path, fearful of the creatures that creep in the bush and unwilling to undertake the struggle to discover a truer aspect within.

“Retribution in Iron” encapsulates everything you need to hear, to understand, and what to expect from this album. The barely audible swinging rear riffs, hallowed harmonies hailing calls to trigger blast beat charges, and a consistent melancholy lending the generic surface meaning to ferocious music leaves the listener conflicted, wondering whether to weep or shriek at this enraging cage. At the forefront are proclamations from a calm but stern vocal, unintelligible at most times but raspy enough to leave a microphone sopping with unbrushed flavor after an hour. Yet there is a second layer of conflict underpinning 'Order of Vengeance', a conflict that leaves this listener wondering whether he even wants to listen to another bland bedroom black metal band such as this after so many years of consistent, cannibalistic, and incestuous music with so little variation and exploration in this well-hidden sub-culture.

Rather than branch out, Runespell's latest attempt is a far more cloistered display of Nightwolf's vision, consistent to a fault, and leaves a listener yearning for the Agalloch worship and flagging idealism of yesteryear. With a dull and dulcet demo sounding mix that betrays the energy of this album by propelling puttering patters rather than a powerful and passionate punch, the effort and black metal zeal is apparent in some places, but is in a quiet place of studious creation rather than the overt, unsettling, vengeful, and brash individual enterprise typical of the style. Turning his sights from the most obvious groups to simulate and instead scratching somewhat beneath the surface of one of the most placid black metal coves, 'Order of Vengeance' maintains an unwavering Primordial focus that eschews epic ambiances in favor of a gait as uninterrupted by diversity, fresh ideas, and originality as a festival featuring an abandoned fifer who knows only one song. While this creates a sound that must make the album grow on the listener in order to be approached with appreciation, with some great riffing in the background of “Claws of Fate” and tremolos abound, the disheartening lack of originality throughout these forty-six minutes serves as a reminder of the talent that serves so many facets of underground metal and the ease with which a passing posing band wagoner may be spotted. 'Order of Vengeance' is replete with two-riff inanities that wash the ears in so many by-the-numbers, beaten down, and uninspiring reels that it shows Nightwolf as a formulaic well-versed musician phoning in his art and attempting to turn trash into cash.

That being said, Runespell has a sound that is steadily growing on me. In spite of its lacking originality, the pinches of nuance and improvement in formula and pacing have shown that Nighwolf has been studying and adapting his songwriting ever so slightly. In spite of the fact that every song on 'Order of Vengeance' sounds either the same as the last or generically repeats just about every old trope in the black book, underpinning many modern mechanics with a modest low-fi aesthetic, the general gist of the album plays things safe and even enough not to offend, let alone imbue itself into memory. This is best shown in the ambient and acoustic “Night's Gate”, where a most familiar string tinkle joins with the sound of distant cars hitting a freeway bump, almost beat for beat an Agalloch piece, but that would be too easy a comparison to draw. This song strips down some of the Balkan fire of Bethroned, quiets the sound of “Autumn I” by Gallowbraid, and leaves this writer scratching his head, ready to embark on a ten hour search for that single exact example of emulation. It's frustrating when a sound so typical and overdone pings so loud that it conjures a dozen responses on the radar, but this is the eternal plight of the bedroom black metal band. In spite of Occam's razor prevailing in finding the near mirror likeness of “Night's Gate” in another woefully average Australian band, Vaiya's endlessly monotonous “:W i n t e r m o o n:”, there is a larger bottleneck of ideas that needs to be addressed.

Struggling with the issues that plague so many, working in the same styled space as countless others, and attempting to force the individuality inspired by black metal out of such a counterintuitively collective culture stagnates musicians and leaves swaths of scorched earth as common and indistinct from each other as a bass guitar is in a lo-fi mix. Runespell is a product of a much larger endemic issue in the black metal underground. A misguided and misdirected hope to stand out with the crowd leaves so many broken and beaten bands by the wayside for the sole reason that they simply are not interesting or unique enough to deserve more than a cursory glance. In a style so stark in its search for solitude, so willing to praise itself for its population of lone wolves, bedroom black metal musicians seem unable to grasp the reality that they are the dime a dozen worldwide distribution of self-parodying sadness spawned from a once proud, cloistered, under-publicized, and passionate sub-culture. The internet has become the new Sunset Strip. Soundcloud, bandcamp, and Facebook are the new nightclubs filled with musicians caked in make-up hoping for a record deal, and there isn't a chick in sight. Runespell is just another here today and gone tomorrow member of a lost generation with nothing to say, further cheapening the idea of bedroom black metal in spite of some examples of fantastic musicians that Nightwolf may well consider his peers.

Eight years ago Runespell would have been one of many in the long list of listenable but impactless bedroom black metal bands, unable to hold a candle to the few stars seen as transcendent in the realm but considered capable enough to deserve its marginal success and a modest following. Eight years ago this DNA flowed through the veins of musicians in Norway, Sweden, and Germany, Croatia and Slovenia, the United States and Canada, Bahrain and Iran, Russia and Ukraine, and most of them are still around today, saturating a musical landscape with an immense elaboration on the particulars of the style. What makes anything by any of the latest in this Australian branch within this last year any different?

As much as this album starts to grow on me, digging in meek tendrils of roots that lose their grip to even a drizzle, Runespell may as well be holding up the background of a mindless low-tier video game with its music rather than strive for the lofty par set by the likes of Final Fantasy's Nobo Uematsu or Command and Conquer's Frank Klepacki. If Koei decided to create an endless series of viking hack and slash games, Runespell could easily provide the soundtrack with a reverential eruption like “Wolf.Axis” and wouldn't offend in the least after a generation of players hears these endless riffs recycling just under the sound of terribly-voiced awfully translated dialogue. Simply put, Runespell is incredibly boring, inert and soulless in its rage, and it seems this has become a common thread with some of these more atmospherically inclined Australian bedroom bands. The lack of ambiance shows how hollow and lacking in ideas these musicians are while the endless repetition shows how one-dimensional, copy and paste, their outlooks can be. Something needs to change. (Five_Nails)

(Iron Bonehead Records - 2018)
Score: 65

https://ironboneheadproductions.bandcamp.com/album/runespell-order-of-vengeance

Ulvegr - Vargkult

#FOR FANS OF: Pagan Black Metal, Drudkh

Curt cutting riffs viciously recycle across a range of jagged rocks and sharp turns. Gnarled and angular arboreal veins lie exposed in mimicry of Hate Forest while a flourishing and vibrant canopy slightly alludes to Drudkh's lively influence. Odalv and Helg of Ulvegr elaborate on the ever-imposing and shrilly slashing Ukrainian black metal style with the quintessential string shriek, yet prefer to minimize their impact on the forest by producing a raw and organic sound that attempts not to interfere with the chaos of nature.

Rather than harmoniously flow through each transition in 'Vargkult', Ulvegr directly injects each new guitar into its mix with tight changes that leave no room for error as each twist of the treble forms rugged pointed angles. Opening the album with an avalanche of words carefully selected from a black metal thesaurus, “Rune Ice Frozen Hatred” compliments its syllabic spew with the delirium of viciously recycling reeling stabbing strings deeply into the ear as gnarled and barked vocals attempt to claw through the center. The title of this opening track is the sort of syllabic spurge expected to proliferate in only two places: Japanese comic books and underground black metal, and I don't see any pointy hair on these two black clad brooders. Corpse-painted even into the depths of his protruding beard, one member of Ulvegr looks like a tired alcoholic parody of Gaahl regally posing with his dejected companion as they wonder if they'll be able to afford another can of paint from the local hardware store with the proceeds from this latest album or if they'll need to go Geisha Facial and break out the bird poop bucket again. Common in the raw black metal style, the background of this literal and sonic cascade is maintained by an ever energetic and uncompromising cavalcade of percussive snaps that atonally clang through the song in total disregard to the glorious harmonic charge sweeping overhead. Ulvegr is a band that gives little ground to its audience, instead preferring to arm itself against the mob with an unbreakable sonic assault.

Though bass may be starkly absent in the recording of “Rune Ice Frozen Hatred”, it is an immediate and apparent addition throughout the rest of 'Vargkult' as the rhythm guitar endures a stark change of tone and the fidelity somewhat improves. Simple, brutal, and unrelenting, Ulvegr imparts the grim intensity of tree worshiping, goat sacrificing, tourist luring forest folk that, unlike their banjo playing counterparts across the Ocean, honor an ancient and untamed land awash with generations of blood. While the squealing opening track sears itself into the ear, a more dulcet and clouded sound settles over the land in “Cold Graves Breathing Beast”, filling the atmosphere with snow while sapping the Sun of its heat as the drumming calmly chisels away with the cymbal above a cascade that finds faster footing the further into the ground it penetrates. Searching for pockets of heat in this uninhabitable hellscape, the putridity unearthed in this excavation is impossible to ignore but the shovels must continue their trench work nonetheless. Awesome blast beating in “Death is Our Law” rallies a flagging riff into a second wind that charges forth to litter the field with corpses as another aptly titled song, “Cutting off Your Throat”, elaborates on the midpoint cycling of these frantic, horrified, and simply savory riffs, even going so far as to attempt to harmonize across artillery hellfire with a barely audible additional guitar near the end of the song.

As another major change of recording quality announces the closing track, “We Remember the Blood”, the relentless simplicity grinds mental grist as much as Ulvegr unleashes its furious, hardheaded, and straightforward krieg with such zeal that its potency is not lost to the formulaic reality that “All the Sheep to the Slaughter” may as well be “Rune Ice Frozen Hatred” or “Cutting Off Your Throat” again. Furiously flaying the listener in preparation for an unceremonious execution, Ulvegr elucidates on the irreverence and stripped-down indignity of the mass grave covering 'Vargkult' in the brutal way that shows that the spray of a machine gun makes the same sound no matter who stands in front of it. (Five_Nails)

(Ashen Dominion - 2018)
Score: 75

https://ulvegr.bandcamp.com/album/vargkult

Bible Black Tyrant - Regret Beyond Death

#FOR FANS OF: Post Metal/Sludge, Yob, Neurosis

An album filthier than the nether regions of a three dollar lady of the evening, hard at work over Fleet Week in Norfolk, Virginia, Bible Black Tyrant brings a brash and densely infectious noise akin to the sludge seeping from twixt the illicit worker's legs that incubates in its fetid fecundity and ravages a population with plague and progeny alike. In contrast to the namesake of the state in which her underground business operates, her tang is corrupted by the abuse and unrestrained voracity of the lowly yet it is impressive in its epidermal malleability and her constitution's resistance to its own incubation of potential epidemic.

Featuring fluid flows of 'Celestial' sludge throughout the album, especially noticeable when the guitar grain melts and eventually isolates the drums, similar to a breakdown in “Glisten”, this album incubates its own deleterious concoction that remorselessly punishes a listener and leaves him curious as to what more substance may issue from such seemingly interminable captivity. However, Bible Black Tyrant refrains from indulging the bounce and hardcore leanings of Isis in favor of drawing out its oppressive march. The closest moment to a hyper speedy passage is in the disorienting first moments of the title track where the feedback and resonance of a guitar nearly sounds like a lo-fi blast beat which the band then admonishes the listener for entertaining such a notion by scraping strings and slamming the squeaking gate of freedom to draw him back into this dreary penitentiary. In stark opposition to the general flow of a the average album, this title track is merely a minimalist ambient piece separating two segments of creeping and undulating terror as the mechanism of control relishes its reign and resists revolution throughout this audial arc.

Much of 'Regret Beyond Death' is large, lumbering, and jerky with very few moments that combine such spastic contortions and relentless stomping in order to naturally move and flow. The oppressive atmosphere, a constant weight of grain upon one's ears that overcomes conscience and sense of self alike, seems to have no rhyme or reason except to torture and control the listener's thoughts, creating suffocating and delirious expectations as though the trials of a gulag meant not to mine prosperity for a society but to reduce the reproduction of its most wretched refuse. However, when such a combination of rhythm and riff does finally breach these prison walls, what eventually glides through the atmosphere is a greatly welcome moment that flows like fresh water after a drought. The album is unnerving until finally falling into a comfortable groove in “Wilderness of Steel and Stone” as a busy Sabbath style guitar followed by slow and hard cymbal pounding and a chanting chorus of 'the king of the slaves' takes over. Finally a flowing guitar riff on which to build rather than simply oppressing without any present design clears the air and a fresh feeling of freedom inspires an eruption of revolution, as though a mortal coil sheds like snake skin and rapture is achieved in the breaking of chains.

For a band named after a line in “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”, a short story by Washington Irving featuring the ever-menacing Headless Horseman, there is an apparent horror throughout 'Regret Beyond Death' that seems to usher in a revolt against its confinement after “New Verse Inferno”, sweeping away its own oppressors. Recorded in different locations in the northwest and West Coast, the ensemble comes together well with its abrasive guitar layering, shouted vocals, and bassy percussion that brings grainy cycling in “A Terror to the Adversary”, cracking string whips in “The Irony”, and an almost psychedelic crunch in “The Standard”. A brash swinging in “Instead Of” will pick up its rhythm in order to better bash its own head into pavement while the grip of the hostile treble monopolizes the mix with its relentless reverberations.

Like the climbing guitar tones in “A Terror to the Adversary”, reeking of filth in spite of its undertone of grungy, almost reverential cries to become an anthem, 'Regret Beyond Death' yearns to become something better, but the crushing pain of existence and the weight of tyranny is impossible to truly overcome. The hints of a story arc help the album progress, but the endless deprivation throughout the album make for a release marred by its own misery. It will be interesting to see if Bible Black Tyrant may be able to escape its Hell and subjugate its oppressors, relishing its own revenge after enduring such a ravenous reign, but for now the band seems to be nurturing an uprising that quickly may be quashed. (Five_Nails)

(Argonauta Records - 2018)
Score: 65

https://bibleblacktyrant.bandcamp.com/releases

Drudkh - Їм часто сниться капіж (They Often See Dreams About the Spring)

#FOR FANS OF: Post Black, Wolves in the Throne Room

Drudkh's first full-length album since 2015 shows a band shaking off the frost of an unforgiving winter with a fresh tumult that leaves trees shuddering and strings screaming, quaking the earth with a monstrous sound lurking high above the timbers and swaying in the winds. Moments of fury erupt from clay and rocks as each appendage of this Ukrainian quartet strives to elaborate on specifics in its style while maintaining its consistent overall quality in engaging atmosphere and mesmerizing cycling, a gigantic gallop of the forest's foremost advocate embodied in a titan of black metal artistry. A motif of decay and resurrection has been a mainstay of Drudkh's songwriting throughout its fifteen year career, best exemplified by sullen guitar passages that reach their solstices in hateful highs before returning to depressive drawling lows as they recycle and replant their roots. Yet it is in the blends and blotches that Drudkh finds its most uncorrupted cultivation, a dreamlike blur that seems improvisational but is actually a carefully approximated sound, something where a contributing moment may seem muddled and misshapen but applies itself as a perceptibly necessary attribute into the larger scheme.

Near the second half of “У дахів іржавім колоссю... (U Dakhiv Irzhavim Kolossyu…)”, the drums kick up with a tantalizing blast beat as a backdrop of heaving guitar trills to the tone of a lonesome bird calling out for a companion. The lead sawing across the top shreds bark and sinew with the dull patter of a distant woodpecker following such violence. Blast beating comes with the frequency of clouds during a blustery summer day, the wind high in the atmosphere as shade darkens the sun and quickly passes by to bring back Sol's full intensity. Such captivating landscapes are painted in meditative and calculated brushstrokes, as though the mixtures of colors and blending definition of impressionist painting is lent its own audible backdrop, a prominence in this gallery of sound delightfully shown in the final pieces on the album. “За зорею, що стрілою сяє (Za Zoreyu Scho Striloyu Syaye…)” blows winds of a familiar anthem, the crisp air of autumn reprising its role in contrast to spring, conjuring the swift streaks of oranges and yellows in Monet's “San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk” in order to share in the theme of 'The Swan Road' or 'Autumn Aurora'. “Білявий день втомився і притих (Bilyavyi Den’ Vtomyvsya I prytykh… )” brings a signature scramble to its precipice with sawing guitars, shrilly screaming through banks of foggy distortion and blending, calling out through the morning mist in primitive mention of Monet's “Impression, Sunrise” to raise a fresh levy of barbarian warriors, echoing goodbyes across placid waters walled in by rising rocky cliffs. The quiet melody of the lead guitar longingly mires its melancholy footing in the sopping mud of a springtime low tide. As the boat disappears in the distance the sun begins to burn off the fog, opening the cloistered world to the beauty of expanse, the allure of adventure, and the hope of a successful raid and lucrative future.

'Їм часто сниться капіж (They Often See Dreams About the Spring)' is Drudkh elaborating in all the right places while sticking to its tried and true formula. The heady atmosphere blending blotches of noisy notation, imposing and transfixed on the spirit of nature, can find itself falling into the background of the mind at times, but always returns to a path that fiercely draws attention to itself in the right moments. Giving sound to an already muddled style that captures the eye when closed and the mind when dreaming, Drudkh has always maintained a soft spot for impressionist art, providing tangible texture throughout its lower fidelity career. With the cleanliness of its production throughout this latest foray into a stand-alone full-length, the band has smoothed out its canvas while providing a more vibrant color palette for its digitized display. (Five_Nails)

 

(Season of Mist - 2018)
Score: 75

https://drudkh.bandcamp.com/album/they-often-see-dreams-about-the-spring

Horn - Retrograd

#FOR FANS OF: Pagan Black

Over a year since the release of 'Turm am Hang', Horn has returned in proper form with 'Retrograd', promising more incredible and inspiring black metal from a Westphalian bedroom. While this latest album is considerably shorter than the previous release from the dawn of 2017, the album's meatiest moments offer that familiar and glorious electric notation that rises to fury with its slamming snare to truly conquer realms and rule with an iron fist. Nerrath is no stranger to adopting the eclectic, beefing up his black metal ensemble with classical instruments and this comes across well as cello, violin, and folksy drumming introduce and march away with allusions to the intensity they bookend.

The title track comes with the fury of a storm as a howling gale of guitar calls out from drumming thunder to shred windsocks and sails alike, dooming hapless merchants with immense waves while casting their goods into the sea. Despite the misfortune of distant others, the king's flotilla has made landfall intact. On the shore comes the stomp and snare of a winding trail of warriors as Horn violently takes numerous villages, slaughters their inhabitants, and brings a new province into the fold. Glory is there in violin and lute to sing songs of the victorious dead while the reality is a smashing appraisal of the newly acquired realm despite the melancholy of interring the individuals unable to appreciate the riches of the fresh conquest for which they have fallen.

While a tempest conjures a beastly invasion on the coast, “Bocksfuss” sees the invaders and ousted defenders meet in barbaric battle deeper into the wilderness. Walls of spears and shields slam into each other with bone breaking thrusts that stab into each opposing line and are quickly repelled with swift sword swings and axe hacks. In harrowing climax the guitars issue blending notes, thick as blood pouring from mortal wounds as they redouble their efforts to shriek out of this press of battle and be heard above the wails of the defeated. As each side fights to exhaustion, the invaders dig in their back feet in preparation for a second wind of assault. The quick strike of a folksy lilt fires synapses as aching muscles are invigorated by the machinery of masterful men whose discipline drives this determined victory. “Garant” garrotes unit after unit as the conquering army's redoubt routs its foe, now turned into a paltry scramble of fleeing men as the field lies littered with the fallen and writhing with wounded warriors. While one side licks its wounds, punished for its audacity in attempting to defend its land from such an onslaught, “Die Einder” sees that a journey is not finished with a single victory. As Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington, declared, “nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won”, and the melancholy of a victory at such expense as this would leave any force demoralized before it plunges onward into continuing its campaign.

Still, the deeper appreciation of such militaristic struggle within Horn could also be surmised by Maynard James Keenan who argued, in the song “Vicarious”, that “we won't give pause until the blood is flowing”. Horn is a band that appreciates the bloodshed necessary to achieve its aims and attempts to honor the victorious dead without forgetting the sorrow of loss that such victory inevitably entails. Unlike in 'Turm am Hang', each moment of celebration is met with sullen realization as this fresh force fights in foreign forests. This balance is met more melancholically in 'Retrograd' as venturing from a homeland hof into hostile territory prophesizes not only numerous dangers ahead but also forces conquerors into costly confrontations resulting in Pyrrhic pushes. (Five_Nails)

(Iron Bonehead Records - 2018)
Score: 85

https://ironboneheadproductions.bandcamp.com/album/horn-retrograd

Death Rattle - Volition

#FOR FANS OF: Groove Death/Thrash, Lamb of God

Death Rattle has returned after nearly six years with a fresh full-length album of very worthy groove and metalcore. Continuing down a well-trodden path, the band seems set for success so long as it simply follows each curve to a tee, however Death Rattle's sure-footedness ensures a smooth example of modern groove metal while meeting each crag and rock in this second outing with a finesse that shows a few fresh tricks hidden up the band's sleeve. Newly fronted by Trey Holton of the hardcore band 12 Step Program, and forging ahead with a fresh confidence, the northern New England outfit has finally received the studio it deserves in the Brick Hithouse and has done it the honor of giving an incredible performance worthy of its perfect production.

Death Rattle proudly sports its primary influence like ink tattooed under its sleeve, an armband encircling a bicep that devotedly honors a modern metalcore institution. Many moments in this album, including the opening lyric in “Love and War”, sound exactly like Lamb of God while retaining enough signature energy and personality as to remain a proprietary product. Some segments of songs are so astonishingly similar in production and attitude that they have me wondering whether this band has perfected the cloning process and is hiding from the world court in a low profile metal band. There must be some sort of atrocity going on here because a beheaded chicken in the name of voodoo can't be the only explanation for such on-the-ball resemblance. The addition of Trey Holton on vocals greatly enhances the delivery of Death Rattle's early songs, however the lyrics display apparent differences. Unlike the past lineup with Donnie Lariviere, this new vocalist does a great job of getting the lyrics out through a range of gruff yells and long drawn out screams, but the content of some of these new lyrics is more vague and distant from reality than the songs comprising the reprisal segment of 'Volition'. Where there is a direct and obvious object of one's anger to confront in songs like “Snake in the Grass” or “Sociopath”, the lyrics to a song like “Adrenalize” focus more on an internal boiling over as rage precludes destruction. This is best displayed in “Internal Determination” as the song describes how “you'll see the past of a psychopath” while invoking metaphysical manifestations of mayhem.

There is a marked improvement in quality from Death Rattle's first foray. The proficiency in the guitar riffing and the cohesion of the ensemble between the songs from the previous album bring this new iteration in 'Volition' into full bloom. This band would be a good Lamb of God clone on a bad day but such fresh and original arrangements in songs like “Sentenced to Hell”, “Adrenalize”, and “From Blood to Black” show that Death Rattle is in top form with more than a cursory sense of its direction. Meaty breakdowns between headbanging runs, chunky guitars full of reverb like blenders overloaded by intermittent power surges, and grooves that drive with every needle riding a red line make this album worthy of any enthusiasm it receives. Ryan VanderWolk and Jimmy Cossette round out their lead and rhythm guitars incredibly well, creating an ideal interplay between industrial machinery sticking to its protocol and sentience screaming out for recognition. The intricacies of guitar in “Adrenalize” accelerate and twist around Chris Morton's deceptively steady drumming rhythm through hypnotic churning that grows like barbed vines deliberately digging into flesh, bleeding its prey while weaving a bed of thorns that tears into the meat of an immobilized deer. This glacial but cutting pace denotes waves of aggression in fits and bursts, perpetuating the motion of a fiery and intricate mechanism, interconnecting each sharp tooth of its clockwork gears with laser precision.

With a thrashing start, “Sentenced To Hell” charges its way into a fantastic breakdown, a melee that runs right into “Blood of the Scribe” territory with tinkling cymbals joined by punchy bass kicks, crashing this riff into roaring drum fills that pummel a heart into submission in endurance of an eternal sentence in headbanging perdition. An orgasmic bluesy solo rounds out the album in “From Blood to Black” that persists through a dozen rounds of the drum rhythm. These moments of soloing ecstasy are exactly what anyone would want to experience live and bring a final punishing end to this album as the guitars wail in pleasure-pain throughout this drawn out climax. Improving on the template established in the first album, 'Man's Ruin', Death Rattle has made the discovery of more intricate flowing guitar grooves that maintain an aggressive tone throughout each song a paramount concentration to its groundwork while venturing farther from this foundation with finesse.

Rerecording the singles “Snake in the Grass”, “Sociopath”, “Order Within Chaos”, and “Doomsday” from 'Man's Ruin', as well as reworking “Vicious Cycle” into the new song “Unfinished Business”, displays the leaps and bounds that this band has made in tightening up its delivery and crystallizing its intonation. The run after the solo in “Sociopath” sounds spectacular and proves that this recording truly achieves the aim that the first album attempted but never truly reached. The dropping strings, riding the waves churned by Kevin Adams' bass, throughout the elaborate solo section sounds like a seventh string strung to stretch a neck and beautifully rejoins the run with a pummeling punch, as though dozens of victims of a diabolical overlord are beating the hanging tyrant like a piñata.

“Unfinished Business” takes another crack at the sound started by “Vicious Cycle” on 'Man's Ruin'. The song is streamlined with more focus on the leading riff before swirling, in the second verse, a blending melody in New England metalcore style and beating it furiously with percussion. While I would have preferred to have heard the drum interlude reprised to open the song, it seems that the percussion has been reigned in a bit tighter than entirely necessary as Morin's drumming has become far sharper and well-timed but is also lacking in inventiveness. Rather than cascade each cymbal clink throughout a fill to drive the tone of a song like “Unfinished Business” into the deepest pit, the tripling on the double bass helps to up the ante but the top of the percussion stays too uniform to truly grab you and shake things up. Meanwhile, the guitars slope down into a murky marsh of melody in the chorus that magnificently satisfies a metalcore mania. Though all the cylinders may not be firing with fury, there is still plenty of roar in this engine to top out at breakneck speed.

As much as Death Rattle will inevitably end up compared to Lamb of God due to the Virginia stalwart's heavy inspiration and similarity, this newcomer shows its ability to thrive as it strays from the derivative. A template formed on the aggression of 'As the Palaces Burn' combined with the crisp refinement of 'Ashes of the Wake' makes Death Rattle achieve its production aims throughout 'Volition'. However, it is in approaching its early offerings with fresh ideas where the band has revitalized its previous pieces. The newest songs on this album greatly expand the aims and scope of the band's ambition, riding its own waves of sound off of coattails and into its own atmospheric layer. Considering the new normal presented in 'Volition', Death Rattle has a bright future ahead of it. While the band is not out to replace any established brand or define a new cultural direction, the band shows itself as a confident and competent outfit with plenty of personality to boot. (Five_Nails)

(Self - 2017)
Score: 80

https://www.facebook.com/DeathRattleBand