PICK OF THE WEEK: Unearthly Rites drill into power, environmental chaos with devastating ‘Ecdysis’

Photo by Eetu Kolehmainen

As much tumult and frustration as there is in the world, and there’s plenty of it, the worst way out of it would be to give up and let the powers that be have their control. We live at the boot of capitalism, which has a ripple effect over matters such as societal struggle, environmental issues, and equality, and fighting back is the only true option.

Finnish death metal power Unearthly Rites have plenty of anger and vitriol spread over their mangling debut record “Ecdysis,” but the goal behind it all is to make it possible for a brighter future that rises above all of the chaos. The band—vocalist Sisli Piisilä, guitarists Simo Perkiömäki and Santtu Markko, bassist Jennika Vikman, drummer Tapio Lepistö—themselves have taken up for environmental activism and have lashed back against mining and drilling actions that maim the earth and fresh water sources. That’s packed into these thunderous nine tracks that revel in filth and fight back against a power structure that only seems to care about how much money it can make.

“Hellscape” is an instrumental opener with noises sizzling, synth folding, and feedback bubbling, blowing into “Deep Drilling Earth’s Crust” that mauls with guitars digging into skulls. Growls rip as the playing adds pressure, Piisilä howling, “Heavy metals and radiation leach, polluting the water and soil, nature is destroyed.” The brutality continues from there, smoke filling the air, thrashy bends shaking stomach contents, rushing away with power. “The Master’s Tools” sits under doomy skies, growls mashing as filthy chaos rushes to the surface. Growls shred throats, drubbing as the guitars add heat, blazing heavily as ashes collect. The title track unloads with bludgeoning violence, growls slashing as blood is shed generously. The pace feels sooty and clogging, the trudging blistering flesh, warm guitars flowing like a sludgy river over your prone body. “Capitalocenic Nightmare” pounds away, growls retching as the punishment is amplified, the bass quivering through the earth. “We will burn down this system and plant new seeds to where there was concrete,” Piisilä wails, echoes sharpening as animalistic terror digs into the veins of the earth.

“New Venus” brings torching guitars and vocals that go for a choke hold, the playing speeding up suddenly and dangerously. “Oceans evaporate to steam, clouds of sulfuric acid drift where there was sky,” Piisilä cries, the fear of atmospheric destruction weighing heavily, the combustion from all forces coming together to devastate, ripping apart and bursting with flames. “Fuck Ecofascism” trudges, growls scathing, the guitars lathering and building up an ocean of blood. “To claim the humanity is to blame for our sins is a colonialist, western & racist understanding of the world,” Piisilä stabs bluntly, the clubbing tempo leaving bruising, dragging chaos through the mud and into a buzzing finish. “Sacrifice Zones” is slow driving and weighs down on your chest, growls and shrieks scarring, battering everything in its wake. Guitars scar as the low end rumbles, igniting and burning the hair off your flesh. Closer “Doomed” is the longest track, running 7:13, and it’s aptly titled, the bass clobbering, the playing squeezing like a vice, the guitars burning and then taking off. The bulk of this is gutting, Piisilä howling, “Time to lose false hope and fight for what is left, what could still be saved,” the pummeling and scorching teaming, everything dissolving into an ocean of noise as a glimmer of light beams.

Unearthly Rites savagely sound the alarm against the scourge of capitalism and the way it eroded our world as well as environmental concerns as we are on the brink of destruction, but they do so in a way that signals we still could find hope. “Ecdysis” is a mauling, devastating record that combines old school death metal and modern scuzz, and its messages are sobering and at times infuriated. Yet the fight continues, and there remain ways to save the future, but it’ll take anger and a drag-down fight to prevent the ruling class from turning what we have left into hollow profit.   

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/unearthlyrites666

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://shop.prostheticrecords.com/

Or here (Europe): https://prostheticrecords.8merch.com/

For more on the label, go here:  https://prostheticrecords.com/

Doom enchanters Brume unveil new, sultry methods of getting in your blood on luring ‘Marten’

Photo by Jamie MacCathie

I have done no research on this, but there cannot be a ton of records named after a weasel-like animal that can kill prey much larger than itself. They’re kind of a pain in the ass, even though they’re adorable with the beady eyes and bushy tail and furry faces. But yeah, they’re a menace, and it kind of makes sense why a band would name a group of songs after the little creatures.

San Francisco-based Brume (pronounced “broom”) are not like your average band making heavier sounds that situate deeply in doomy waters. They’ve made a habit of naming their records after animals, and their third is “Marten,” titled after that pesky and aggressive mammal. Funny enough, a friend of mine and I used to watch marten videos at work. We still text each other about the goddamn martens. Actually, I guess that title kind of resembles the band—vocalist/bassist/keyboard player Susie McMullan, guitarist/vocalist Jamie McCathie, cellist/vocalist Jackie Perez Gratz, drummer Jordan Perkins Lewis—as they’re fully capable of sinking in their teeth and taking you down, their songs often disarming you with emotion and darkness you don’t see coming until it’s right on top of you. This record, like their previous two full-lengths, is an experience, one that might not fully make sense the first time around. But if you keep going back, it’ll get inside your mind and take up residence, refusing to ever leave.

“Jimmy” is an enchanting opener, dark and foreboding, strings scraping and the heat slowly building. “You raise your glass to freedom,” McMullan calls, “you raise your glass to family,” as doom clouds spread, burning and smoking as McMullan warns, “My wrath will not be well contained.” “New Sadder You” is somber, low/high singing chilling, the playing churning as the hits come harder. Strings sweep as the shadows thicken, the moodiness becoming a bigger factor, crushing as the flames lick your face before ending in a quake. “Faux Savior” haunts right away, group singing thickening, the call of, “Can you devour my sins?” pricking hearts. The playing is slow and sultry, the skies darkening and threatening, the band going into full gust, the energy spiking as the singing soars into the stratosphere. “Otto’s Song” opens as guitars glide and the cello coats, hazy group singing hanging overhead as the guitars catch fire. The singing turns lush and emotional, the harmonizing making your blood rush, especially in the final moments as only the voices remain.

“How Rude” basks under the moon, deeper singing pushing, the strings adding layers as the melodies move slowly. Guest and Ludicra vocalist Laurie Shanaman’s unmistakable howls ripple, the playing erupting and pummeling, everything getting thicker and bloodier by the second, unloading the final storm gusts of fury. “Heed Me” dawns with dual singing, Shanaman’s shrieks raining down, sounds floating and glistening. “What can you do for me?” McMullan calls, the psychedelic colors blazing now, anguished cries opening the veins of serenity, letting it flood all over the floor. “Run Your Mouth” trickles in solemnity and soft anger, McMullan singing, “Words can’t save you, I’ve got all night.” The weight kicks in and flows through dreariness, sadness and frustration meandering through your brain, the shadows thickening and then subsiding as the final moments bleed away. Closer “The Yearn” flows in with group calls, a folkish backbone solidifying, McMullan leveling with, “I can’t replace every moment we have together.” Guitars weep as the sounds gush, layered with loss in the pit of your chest, psyche waves lapping over and covering bleeding hearts. Guitars char as the emotional climax hits, twisting at your wounds as it fades into eternity.

Brume’s melancholic doom and thick cloudiness arrive in heavy doses on “Marten,” their third record named after an animal, this one a goddamn pest. The playing is equally brutal and beautiful as the band takes you on a deep, dark ride into emotions that sometimes weigh a little too heavily for comfort. This is a record that grows stickier and more involved with every listen, and each time you take that trip, you unveil new levels of tumult and hurt you didn’t notice the times before.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/brumeband

To buy the album, go here: http://lnk.spkr.media/brume-marten

For more on the label, go here:  https://us.merhq.net/

Warped death squad Atræ Bilis unleash disarming damnation experiment on blazing ‘Aumicide’

Photo by Savannah Bagshaw

Having the misfortune of growing up Catholic comes with the added bonus of living in fear that every small mistake you make is going to result in you spending eternity in flames and torment. It’s a story you’re told to keep you in line and to strip you from the parts of yourself that are genuine, replacing that with crippling fear.

Canadian technical death crushers Atræ Bilis think of eternal damnation in more of a warped way based on scientific experimentation, and their worming second record “Aumicide” is a concept piece about a test specimen being tortured by different variations of hell to remove one’s sense of faith and operate in total godlessness. Sounds fun. The music itself is as warped as the concept as the band—vocalist Jordan Berglund, guitarist David Stepanavicius, bassist Miles Morrison, drummer Luka Govednik—delves even deeper into the strangest, sickest version of themselves yet, complete with twisted visions and corrosion that feels like it came from another galaxy.

“Protoxenesis” is a tingling, warping instrumental opener with the guitars trickling and the bass pulsating, leading to “Hell Simulation” that feels like it’s tangling you up in steel cables. The playing blindsides and torches, the vocals taking on a strange alien effect that, to be honest, grates on the nerves. It happens throughout the record, and it’s not my favorite thing, but it’s minor. The tempo jerks as the vocals get throatier,  sinewy madness closing off veins. “Salted in Stygia” stabs away, growls retching as spindly intergalactic weirdness takes over, the eeriness building to monstrous dashes. Clean singing adds a different element while ugly crunches blast away. “Inward to Abraxas” feels mystical at first before the doors are blown off, punching as the battering tempo takes hold. The playing chugs as strange glitching gnaws at nerves, throaty howls ripping into digitized chaos. “To Snuff the Spirit Guides” is speedy and mean, scathing guitars leaving brush burns, the gutting madness tying in with a strange atmospheric twist. Things turn tricky and ripping, the guitars taking off and rippling through space.

The title track is an instrumental piece, the guitars agitating over a heat storm, spacious echoes blowing into “A Kingdom of Cortisol” that punishes right away as the growls crunch bones. The melodies play tricks with your brain, snaking and trudging, the pressure overwhelming and disappearing into tornadic energy. “Monolith Aflame” opens with cold guitars before the violent twists and turns land, group howls making your flesh crawl. The temperature keeps switching back and forth, vicious howls brawling with your sanity, the pace dizzying and making maintaining your balance nearly impossible. “Through the Hologram’s Cervix” brings gale force winds, beastly terror squeezing your temples, alien crackles peppering you with waves of discomfort. The guitars tangle as the growls intensify, a sci-fi burst blazing with colors, torching to an abrupt end. Closer “Excruciate Incarnate” mauls, the guitars attacking and crushing your senses. Static spits, unfurling sonic leads that twist your guts, sweat glistening on your brow. The strangling tempo is enthralling, twisting your psyche before fading into the stars.

Hell is more cosmic that I ever expected, at least from what we glean from “Aumicide,” a record that finds Atræ Bilis in twistingly brutal form. This band keeps getting stranger and less human, something that’s pretty apparent once you absorb the insanity of these 10 tracks. Whether or not damnation is real, this record will make you rethink your position and if eternal fires are instead set in a strange lab somewhere.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/atraebilis

To buy the album, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/atraebilis

For more on the label, go here:  https://www.20buckspin.com/

Terminal Nation torch societal issues, address personal chaos with ‘Echoes of the Devil’s Den’

Photo by Jacob Murry

We’re surrounded by chaos, though that’s not anything new. But it feels like with everyone pulled so closely together due to the existence of social media and the surge of political ideologies that threaten to pull us full force into a fully fascist government that we’re at a tipping point that’s more volatile than anything we’ve experienced before.

It’s impossible to listen to “Echoes of the Devil’s Den,” the new record from Terminal Nation, and not feel the full force of their anger and frustration over the events that have marred this country especially and the world at large. The band—vocalist Stan Liszewski, guitarists Tommy Robinson and Dalton Rail, bassist/vocalist Chase Turner, drummer Chase Davis—delves into the ongoing nightmare that never seems to let up, especially in a presidential election year that could be our last with no good options (and one a fucking criminal with multiple indictments) on the ticket. They also dig into more personal matters that have haunted them, and that all makes for an explosive, face-melting record that lets them release the boiling trauma in their brains in a productive manner that torches power structures artistically.

The title track opens the record, doom bells chiming, the filth building as the power combusts, throaty howls lashing away. The playing is heavy as fuck, growls and shrieks opening wounds, everything darkening before fading. “Written by the Victor” features guest vocals from Todd Jones of Nails (you will never be one of him), and it’s a mashing, blinding burst, direct and violent as the growls take you apart. Thrashy fire melts, the growls punish, and everything burns into “The Spikes Under the Bridge,” which starts with heated guitar swagger. “They pick the easy target, punishing being alive, with twisted steel and unforgiving cement,” Liszewski howls, going right for the throat, thorny guitars following. Sinewy, mashing playing makes the bruising go deeper, vicious blows leaving dust behind. “No Reform” brings pummeling drums and a forceful front, battering with a storming assault. The band lashes back at the state of policing, Liszewski wailing, “There is no reform for the murder of children, no amount of training curbs a killer appetite.” The pressure continues to mount, as does the anger and disgust, and there can be no mystery behind their intent after Liszewski shouts, “Fuck every cop that’s ever fucking lived.” “Empire in Decay” chars with guitars heaving, the combined howls and growls uniting to flex, a calculated pace letting the blows take time to register. The bulk of this is punishing, guitars snarling and melting into “Embers of Humanity” an icy, dark instrumental. Guitars drip and echo as the eeriness spreads, ending with a suddenly warming gaze.

“Merchants of Bloodshed” features Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage, and it blurs with sludgy intent, the dual vocals burying under tons of scrap metal, the battering whipped into a manic frenzy with steel teeth. The band lashes out at the perversion of war and the lustful 24-hour news cycle only too happy to spread the terror as Liszewski wails, “Face of death, a grim reaper cloaked in an American flag.” Chilling keys drip as Leach’s voice explodes, melting into a frozen resting place. “Bullet for a Stone” mauls with bending guitars, howls scorching, and the pressure becoming insurmountable. A slow-driving menace surfaces and makes footing impossible, bruising as the madness finally relents. “Dying Alive” is brutal, punishment building and crushing wills, a penetrating fury stabbing through rib cages. The guitars carve as acidic sludging multiplies, leaving chewed bones behind. “Cemetery of Imposters” features Kevin Kennedy of Sex Prisoner, and it chugs with menace and fury, Liszewski’s vocals dripping with anger. “Start digging, motherfucker, you ain’t getting saved,” stabs with ill intent, sneering and shoveling guts, laying everything to waste. “I will bury you in the fucking ground,” also doesn’t leave much to question, pounding with heavy, relentless madness. “Immolation (Of Mother Earth)” is fiery and hammering, through it has a stripe of mournful darkness, destroying as it swelters. The playing comes for you with a reckless savagery, crushing until there’s nothing left in the tank. Closer “Release the Serpents” brings Integrity’s Dwid Hellion into the fold, and it bristles with attitude as throaty howls devastate, guitars carve into bone, and scathing terror becomes a greater factor. No punches are pulled at all, spooky keys mixing in with the metallic skullduggery, warping and bleeding into strange warmth that carries us home.

The anger and unrest at the heart of “Echoes of the Devil’s Den” is so thick, you practically can smell it, its burnt-rubber toxicity easily choking you out. Terminal Nation never approached their music with a gentle hand before, and considering the state of the world at this moment, one can understand just how volatile and tormenting this attack is meant to be. There’s no escaping this madness, this disintegration of peace, and the only way to battle back is with an attack that lacks forgiveness and mercy for the oppressors.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/terminalnation

To buy the album, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/terminalnation

For more on the label, go here:  https://www.20buckspin.com/

PICK OF THE WEEK: Inter Arma not satisfied with status quo, morph ever further with ‘New Heaven’

Photo by Jonah Livingston

I appreciate that there are bands that as soon as you hear them, you know who they are. Taking that a step further, it’s even more rewarding when you can tell a band from their sound, even when they keep adding to their concoction and continue trying to do new things every time they put out a record.

Inter Arma have a pretty unmistakable sound, yet on their new record “New Heaven,” their fifth, they keep expanding beyond their base to show just how dexterous they are as musicians and creators. Over eight tracks and 42 minutes (their shortest full-length to date), the band—Mike Paparo (vocals), Trey Dalton (guitar, synthesizers, mellotron, vocals), Steven Russell (guitars), Joel Moore (bass, synthesizers, tape loops, samples, and noise),  T.J. Childers (drums, percussion, guitars, lap steel, piano, noise)—immerses you in another audio assault that takes some adjustment before it feels like home. Lyrically, we’re visiting the real victims of war, mental illness, addiction, and social issues that gnaw at us all. Inter Arma have a defined sound for sure, but their willingness and enthusiasm for pushing boundaries makes every one of their albums a unique experience.

The title track opens with manic guitars ripping on their own, met by thunderous growls and jerking playing, the melodies dizzying and creating bizarre waves. Howls carve as the colorful sprawl continues, the viciousness ramped up, guitars going off and soaring in different directions as the corrosion sets in, bending and disintegrating. “Violet Seizures” has guitars teasing and Paparo’s howls echoing, feeling psychedelic and trippy. A panicked pace punishes as the growls retch and riffs spindle, the drums crushing everything in their path. Shrieks hammer as the ground rumbles, consumed by digital zaps. “Desolation’s Harp” unloads lurching growls and atmospheric pressure, keys shimmering as the guitars rise. The tempo then digs into your ribs, vibrating and sending chills, the leads spreading in mind-altering fashion, slowly drifting into oblivion and “Endless Grey.” This brief instrumental highlights sun-splashed melodies and twin guitars that make it feel like you’re gazing into a summer sky, baked out of your mind.

“Gardens in the Dark” eases in with Paparo’s deep crooning reaching into guts, dark guitars creating a squall that bleeds into realities. The playing bubbles over as the storming cascades, leads soaring into the sky, then fading out and back in before suddenly fleeing. “The Children the Bombs Overlooked” has drums stalking, more deep singing adding to the hypnosis, and a synth glaze leaving a strange coating over your face. The playing drubs as sounds woosh, the bloody horrors of war playing out before you, the drums kicking as mauling vocals drink deeply from a lake of sludge. Mournful melodies and blistering force rise again, leaving behind bruising and working into “Concrete Cliffs,” a track that shines a light on mental illness and the battles many have with that disease. The playing drips and hulks as growls burst, and then a cleansing wave washes over, heat blazing through the sky. Growls drag as the grime accumulates, everything jettisoned into space. “Forest Service Road Blues” is a rustic closer, a dark tale that feels harrowing from the start, acoustics and pianos constructing the fragile framework. Paparo’s singing chews away at you as he levels, “The sun don’t shine like it used to,” adding more weight to the darkness. Strings ache as the grim reality sets in, Paparo calling, “They say sometimes you got to let a man dig his own grave,” putting a dark cover over the final moments.

Inter Arma’s chameleon-like psychedelic heaviness gets stranger with every record, which we mean in a good way, and “New Heaven” takes that to higher levels. Every track here stands on its own and has its own DNA, which makes this thing exciting and ever-changing over all eight tracks. Inter Arma never shy away from scraping at uncomfortable topics and dressing that in metallic compositions that twist brains, and they’re just as exciting and perplexing as ever, which just adds to their stellar resume.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/INTERARMA

To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/pages/inter-arma-new-heaven

For more on the label, go here: https://www.relapse.com/

Zelenaya transform European folk tracks into doomy metal crushers on debut ‘Folk Songs’

Photo by Jimmy Katz

There are thousands of metal records that come out each year, and we review hundreds of them. At the end of the year, it’s hard to remember a fraction of what we wrote about without reviewing our work (which we do, by the way) because there is so much that is similar that not everything can stand out. That’s not a criticism; it’s reality.

I am certain that come the late days of December, I’ll remember “Folk Songs,” the debut record from Zelenaya, a NYC-based band that puts a metallic touch on traditional Eastern European folk numbers. This 12-track, 58-minute collection is the result of the band—vocalists Melanie Closs (Be the Ocean) and Veronica Dougherty, baritone guitarist/vocalist James Kogan, drummer/vocalist Caryn Havlik (Mortals)—unearthing and reconstructing these classic songs from areas such as Ukraine, Poland, Georgia, Serbia and other European territories and adding a molten, doomy edge to them. The songs also are fun and catchy as hell, their efforts to find lyrics and their translations and arrange them to have this extra power paying massive dividends. For an album that lasts nearly an hour, it feels like it rockets by, leaving you enthralled and energized by these recreations that take on a life of their own.

“Majka Bude Rodu” begins with thrashy power, sinister riffs, and swirling singing that is exciting and boisterous. The voices harmonize as synth clouds spread, slowing to a sludgy grind, chugging and torching to the end. “(reprise)” repeats melodies and vocal lines from “Majka” in hypnotic fashion, leading into “Oy Letilo Kupailo” that starts with dark guitars, and the singing giving off a Ludicra vibe. That’s something that repeats over this record, which makes it even more alluring. The playing speeds up and bathes with melodic warmth, the leads emerging and bubbling with muddy, intense barreling. “Urodyla Mene Mate” is mashing as the singing pushes, the darker strains making things feel chilling on the surface. A spirited rush makes the chorus rise, ripping into rougher terrain, wild yells causing your blood to rush, dual voices mixing and increasing the energy. Guitars thrash as the playing turns morose, wordless calls rousing as shrieks lash flesh. “Letila Zozulia” buzzes in as the dual voices meld, the guitars increasing the storminess. The playing is rousing and speedy, blazing as singing spirals, guitars char, and everything fades into time. “Hora Za Horoyu” lands with guitars stinging, the singing rousing as the atmosphere increases, floating into dreamier terrain, everything gaining more spirit as the tension builds. The force trudges as the colorful vocals sweeps, ending in immersive fire.

“Oy U Lisi, V Lisi” slinks and lurches, the singing rounding and basking in folkish melodies, the electricity reaching out and jolting. Howls echo as the guitars add layers of filth, compounding emotions and injecting infectious vibes into your veins. “Oyfn Pripetshik” has guitars folding in and srmashing, dual singing sweltering, a doomy underbelly making things feel a little murkier. Things get heavier and weightier, the playing turning on the heat, blistering until everything fades away. “Nasha Mate Na Bazari Bula” is infectious and mystifying, the playing hanging in the balance and luring you into its juicy center. There’s great storminess that’s rollicking but not dangerous, the singing awash in charisma, the pace ravaging you and pulling you under the water. “Okro Mch’edelo” has the drums pacing with might, the riffs spiraling, the singing awash in character that makes it impossible not to reward with your undivided attention. The playing bustles and entrances, surging with power that refuses to let go, making you feel every second. “Vikozhu Odin Ya Na Dorogu” brings cloudy synth, choral expressions soothing, the pace pushing and pulling, luring you into the heart of the track. Then, there’s a surprise. The band suddenly breaks into the chorus of “Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love,” the Van Halen classic, and they fucking nail it. Then we shift back into the scene, guitars glimmering and the singing lathering, the fires slowly letting go. “Spod Tego Jawora” revels in doom and snaking heat, riffs tangling around your waist. The singing rouses, and then the tempo rips, pelting with power, rounding back into group vocals that dig deep into your ribcage. The playing slows but loses no power, the singing stretching, and then we’re into gnarly death, smoking you into oblivion.

“Folk Songs” is unlike any other metal record you’re going to hear this year, mainly because there’s not bound to be another band collecting classic folk songs and turning them into crushers. Zelenaya has a charisma and style that is so fun to experience, and I can only imagine what they bring in a live setting. Unearthing these Eastern European gems, tracking down the words and melodies, and adding dark, energetic overtones transforms these for modern times and pays homage to its creators so their works are not lost to time.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.instagram.com/zelenayamusic/

To buy the album, go here: https://zelenaya.bandcamp.com/album/folk-songs

To End It All ply doom ambiance to tracks that address loss and grief on ‘Of Blood and Memory’

Photo by Anima Nocturna

Dealing with loss is something that should not be taken lightly nor should it be brushed off to the side. The grief will find you and cripple you, your mental health could suffer in ways you never expected, and the process of working through the pain and trauma takes a very long time, the work never really ending ever.

 “Of Blood and Memory” is the new record from avant-garde doom duo To End It All, and these songs act as a means of dealing with loss, trying to move on and continue life after someone important to us passes on. These songs, which are sonically much different from what we heard on the downright gutting “Scourge of Women,” feel purposely more delicate, guiding the listener into the heart of pain and trying to create a way to spark remembrance and help process the myriad emotions that come with such a traumatic event. The band—vocalist & multi-instrumentalist Joy Von Spain and sound artist Masaaki Masao, both of Eye of Nix—are joined by cellist Lori Goldston (formerly of Earth who also played live in Nirvana) and vocalist/guitarist A.K. O’Neill (from Serpentent) to add more texture to these tracks that are awash in dark emotion and sounds that aim to align with grief. By the way, there also is a remixed version of the record being released as a companion piece on the same day, which lets you hear and absorb these pieces in a different form.

“Introduction” opens and add haunting sounds into your psyche, clean singing hanging overhead like a coming storm, the calls, “Burn like blisters,” resonating. The title track starts amid racket, guitars melting as mechanical noises strip gears, a synth haze pulling over a blanket of energy. Shrieks carve before synth pumps dress the anguish with steam, a dreamy stretch ringing out. “Hunt (Root Out the Source)” runs 9:12, hovering with drone like an engine, animalistic howls digging under your fingernails. The playing is vicious but also airy, the sounds rushing through, industrial pressure becoming a bigger factor as the insanity collects. The heat pressurizes and suddenly turns icy, the clanging bouncing off the inside of your skull as everything fades. “Foreign Tissue” lands with cello scraping, choral calls swirling as an angelic beam warms the surface, the aura feeling lovely but foreboding. A synth sheen collects, darkened traumas bubbling to the surface.

“A Year of Lapidation” brings lush synth and singing rising, the fluttering aligning with your heart palpitations. Howls carve as pained energy jolts you, the drums smashing as voices echo. Rush-like keys glaze, adding to the dark drama, the synth dissolving into clouds. “The Drink of Silence” is eerie as sounds dance over coals, the singing icing your wounds, echoing and floating through a dreamscape. The playing feels lighter, almost weightless at times, the voice swimming amid heat lightning. “Oyasumi” starts with pianos dripping and strings, lush singing circling the floor, the softness landing with unexpected directness. Static waves fall, pianos continue to pelt the ground, gorgeous and sorrowful playing trickling, eventually consumed by fire. The heat blazes, the clouds gathering and heading toward a warbling end. Closer “Elegy” is a goth-fueled front, the singing teasing a liturgical sense, revealing a sense of vulnerability. Von Spain’s operatic calls reach a swirling high, swelling and resonating, filling your chest with energy and emotion that brings you to your knees before letting you see strange visions.

“Of Blood and Memory” is a record that isn’t suitable listening in all situations, which is a compliment and a warning. This is a different side of To End It All, one that works to align with the rawest of our human experiences and the devastation that it leaves behind. It sounds like a gorgeous collection of music that should be something that soothes the darkest hours of the day; but it hides with it something that opens wounds that never healed, and you must face that head on in order to truly live again.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/TEIAnoise

To buy the album, go here: https://www.romannumeralrecords.com/merch

For more on the label, go here: https://www.romannumeralrecords.com/

Resilient Black Tusk refuse to let harrowing events kill them, rise up with ‘Find a Way Forward’

Photo by Chris “Scary” Adams

Talk about seeing some shit. We all have our own harrowing experiences, and no matter what that entails, it impacts us. Going back to this well, the last four years have been tragic and sobering for many of us as our world has changed significantly. But giving up doesn’t have to be an option, so let’s consider what carrying on might bring us.

“Find a Way Forward” is the first new Black Tusk record in six years, and they have dealt with their share of heartbreak and trauma. But here we are in 2024, and the band—guitarist/vocalist Andrew Fidler, guitarist/vocalist Chris “Scary” Adams, bassist/vocalist/synth player Derek Lynch, drummer/vocalist James May—is trying to ignite positivity, especially after they have suffered such loss and torment. But they never stopped, and this record keeps piling onto their Southern-fried sludge, their endless optimism that we can overcome our downfalls, losses, and grief and come out on the other side more battle-tested for it.

“Out of Grasp” rips open, gnarly howls digging into your skin, the screamy yowls teaming up with the grime, which happens over the whole record. And every Black Tusk record. A melodic gust whips as everything tangles and burns out in chaos. “Brushfire” brings throaty howls and heavy chugging, a dark haze hanging over with the howl of, “I am your burning!” corroding flesh. The heat keeps piling on, wrecking completely, ending in department store muzak. “Harness (The Alchemist)” starts with the bass unloading, the stunted shouts of “Ashes! Dust!” laying waste. The playing feels like a brawl, trudging and caking blood, fluid leads taking over and adding some light, the final gusts feeling surprisingly catchy. “Lessons Through Deception” lets sounds hang in the air, gruff growls working alongside boiling guitars, the howls and shrieks joining up for madness. “The fire will burn!” signals danger ahead, speeding through heat and ash. “Breath of Life” lasers in, the humidity working up to an uncomfortable level, the vocals teaming and increasing the terrors. The drums combust before the playing pulls back a bit, allowing the leads to heat up, a slow churn to thicken, and a noise bath to flood over the rim.

“Dance on Your Grave” starts with a thick bassline stalking, and then the power ignites, the band delivering a punk-fueled attack. The playing is speedy and fiery, the howls lacerating as the madness gets more impenetrable, lathering with spirit before burning off. “Against the Undertow” drives with propulsive guitars and vocals breathing fire, the bludgeoning taking on even more menace. The vocals then are spat out at a frantic clip, stomping guts into the ground. “Lift Yourself” backs in feedback and ferocious riffs, guttural wails taking its liberties with applying damage. The leads rush as back-and-forth vocals play tug of war with your physical well-being, drawing blood and letting it create a sticky tributary. “Ocean of Obsidian” is a quick breather, an instrumental cut with tingling, warbling sounds, feeling hypnotic and slurry, setting the stage for “Flee From Dawn” that immediately takes off. Charring yells mix with stomping playing, letting your blood race dangerously as the voices take turns destroying you. The tempo gets speedier and strangling, bringing everything to a flattering finish. Closer “The Way Forward” opens with an acoustic tease before grease fires rage out of control, gravelly howls peeling flesh from muscle. Twin leads glimmer as the playing thrashes and glows, throwing some final bare-knuckle shots before fading into filth.

Black Tusk have had their share of triumphs and tragedies, and the fact they use “Find a Way Forward” as a positive thrust into improvement is a testament to their strength. The band is as blistering and bludgeoning as ever, and these tracks feel like they fly by while you’re finding yourself absolutely scorched. It’s great to see this band still standing, making thunderous music, and setting an example for others who are struggling and could use some positive reinforcement as they claw their way back.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/BlackTusk

To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://shopusa.season-of-mist.com/band/black-tusk

Or here (International): https://shop.season-of-mist.com/

For more on the label, go here: https://www.season-of-mist.com/

PICK OF THE WEEK: Couch Slut add more harrowing tales to legend on wiry “You Could Do It Tonight’

Photo by Jeremiah Bird

Most of us have friends, acquaintances, family members, you name it, who have a collection of stories that makes you wonder how they’re still alive and how much of their mythology is real. That’s part of the fun of it, I guess, knowing this person has seen some insane shit and somehow lived to deliver these wild memories to eager ears.

Far be it for anyone to doubt the authenticity Megan Osztrosits’ stories, because this is real shit, stuff she’s seen, experienced, survived, and that somehow made her one of the most engaging vocalists in all of heavy music. That must mean we have a new Couch Slut record, and you bet your ass we do on “You Could Do It Tonight,” their fourth LP. Along with Osztrosits are guitarist Dylan DiLella, guitarist/flute player/trumpet player Amy Mills, bassist/synth player Kevin Hall, and drummer/synth player Theo Nobel, who reward your indulgence to jump into the madness with nine tracks that box in your head. The music has grown a bit more experimental and daring, the vocals still grabbing you by the throat, inviting you to digest a series of stories and events that could break most people. At the same time, it’s fun as fuck, a record that’ll terrify 9 out of 10 people completely. Or, depending on the people, 10 out of 10. By the way, we also get some guttural guest vocal spots from Doug Moore (Pyrrhon, Scarcity) and Zachary Ezrin (Imperial Triumphant, Folterkammer).

“Couch Slut Lewis” screams with feedback as the bass drives, Osztrosits’ snarling howls feeling like jagged glass across your chest. The vibe feels ominous and dark, which judging by the track’s story is fitting. The playing spirals and makes your extremities feel swollen, Osztrosits wailing, “The spit and handprints all down her neck, she looked up at me, and god was she pissed.” “Ode to Jimbo,” a tribute to Brooklyn bar Jimbo Slim’s, swirls and dizzies, the sinister, yet joyful intent delivered on the menace of Osztrosits’ singing. The playing pounds and gasps, guitars turning on added heat, smoking and obscuring, Osztrosits howling, “Buried! Goodnight, spilled my beer in the backseat of the car,” as the track comes to a scathing end. “Wilkinson’s Sword” brings more melodic guitars, Osztrosits’ wails telling a harrowing tale of rifling through a doctor’s cabinet, eventually lifting some disposable scalpels. Guitars wash as the bass smears, trudging and ending in soot. “The Donkey” opens with sounds whirring, Osztrosits narrating a story about her and her friends getting fired from a haunted waterpark. Would you believe blood was involved? The song is part spoken, part shrieked, dissonant guitars warping your mind. Things keep pounding harder, and finally the tension lifts musically, but the tale isn’t over, Osztrosits recounting a profession of love coupled with an invitation to live in someone’s grandfather’s backyard shed.

“Presidential Welcome” is an interlude, and it’s also a welcome to side B, spoken by Joseph Bone who proclaims himself the president of side B. Hails. “Energy Crystals for Healing” goes hard, the bass clobbering, the guitars making you grasp the wall for balance. The howls gut as the trudging leans into scathing heat, the guitars burning like a tire fire. “I told her yes in the parking lot,” Osztrosits belts, “I told her yes once inside,” as the tension tightens like a vice around a head, ending in a bludgeoning. “Downhill Racer” is both melodic and manic, the guitars searching and then strangling, atmospheric carnage stretching like a storm. Growls carve over throats as the track gets uglier and more heated, suddenly ending in a psychedelic splash. “Laughing and Crying” bubbles and lathers before Osztrosits’ shrieks peel back flesh as she calls, “Quiet as a mouse, lips over teeth, fingers over mouths.” Guitars turn more hypnotic, drubbing and stabbing, the noise scraping at wounds nowhere near healing. “The Weaversville Home for Boys” is in the vein of “Won’t Come” and “Someplace Cheap,” a record ender that’ll stick in your psyche for long after you hear the track. Osztrosits howls most of the story, a tale of three boys who escaped said home for boys and went on a violent reign of terror throughout the area. The playing is grimy and confrontational, a strange recounting of a seeming urban legend turned possibly true by the startling twist at the end. The final moments feel like it’s dropping you off a cliff, the playing letting you fall quickly and violently to your demise.

“You Could Do It Tonight” is another mentally scarred, openly bleeding collection of metallic noise rock that is unlike anything else you’ll hear from anyone. Yes, a lot of that is Osztrosits’ acidic and chaotic delivery, as well as the nature of her stories, but the rest of Couch Slut provide the perfect setting to all of this, doing more than their part to leave deep gashes. Every Couch Slut record is an experience that makes you feel like you blacked out on some strange substance, have spotty recollection of what occurred in that time, and are left to deal with the aftermath for years and years to come.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/couchslut

To buy the album, go here: https://www.brutalpandarecords.com/collections/couch-slut

For more on the label, go here: https://www.brutalpandarecords.com/

Operatic Black metal dreamers Folterkammer add more drama to your psyche on ‘Weibermacht’

Photo by Alex Krauss

There are advantages and disadvantages to having the heavy metal world stretched as far as it is. We have bands and sounds and ideas we’ve never imagined before, but we also have a lot of releases, some of them very good that don’t really push boundaries as far as creativity is concerned. That’s not a knock. Not all bands can do insane shit. But when we find a band that puts metal’s DNA in a blender in a great way, we’re here for that.

Folterkammer, a black metal band with operatic vocals, might sound too gimmicky to some. I can get that on the surface. But dig into the music, notably what you hear on their incredible second record “Weibermacht,” and you’ll know you’re facing a relentless force that has something much different to say and present in the best possible way. Their debut “Die Lederpredigt” was our No. 4 record of 2020, but this album might be better. Concentrating on BDSM and richly horny topics, the band—vocalist Andromeda Anarchia, guitarists Zachary Ezrin and Darren Hanson, bassist Laurent David, drummer Brendan McGowan (Steve Blanco provides harpsichord)—delivers on all fronts that most would be bashful to confront from a sexual standpoint. But we’re hardly sex or fetish shamers on this site, and combined with the jazzy and avant-garde approach to black metal, we have a playful, yet violently direct (Anarchia’s ripping German grinds your face) approach to this style that is remarkably refreshing and sexually liberating. Oh, and it makes the woman the dominating force, which, absolutely no problem here!

“Anno Domina” drives with maniacal force, Anarchia’s operatic calls ruling everything, gushing with drama that’s deliciously over the top. A baroque feel is achieved, leaving your flesh cold and prone, and the crack of the whip is the wakeup call, Anarchia’s growls turning on you and dragging you to the end. “Leck Mich” brings snarling riffs as melodic singing swells, the snarled chorus (translates to “lick me,” though there are other takes on this) plays games with your psyche. A blinding force takes over and allows organs to rise and the pace to utterly destroy, amplifying the filthy adventure which you have under taken. “Die Unterwerfung” opens with a dramatic dialog from Anarchia, chambery playing making things feel disarmingly intoxicating. Angelic calls mix with the abject black metal horrors, a hellish choral effect taking over, shrieks piling and adding a touch of bloodshed to an atmospheric ripe with alluring calls. “Kuess mir die Fuesse” translates to “kiss my feet,” leans into fully embracing fetish, the storming letting you know not only is that welcome but fully encouraged. The playing is vicious and fiery at times, the shrieks working down your spine violently, pounding and charging, making you blood race before a dizzying finish.

“Algolagnia” is the act of experiencing sexual pleasure from pain, and as the bass slinks in and black riffs carve, shrieks explode, the guitars working themselves into tornadic bliss. Screams jar as the energy slashes limbs, the guitars are worked into a frenzy, and a demonic dialog sends chills. Guitars flood and storm, screams build, and everything comes to a thrilling end. “Herrin der Schwerter” is sprawling and bubbling, wild roars bustling, the darkness flourishing into something a little more dangerous. Guitars gain heat as the vocals push every button imaginable, the speed taking up and making you heart race out of control. “Das Peitschengedicht” means “the whip poem,” and guitars quiver as the track is torn open from the guts, operatic wails mixing with vicious shrieks that leave you maimed. The playing gets faster as angelic calls make your body temperature rise, shrieks wrench of a melodic sprawl, and an attack that feels power metal in origin drives the track to its final gasps. We end with a cover of Velvet Underground’s 1967 track “Venus in Furs,” itself a look at sadomasochism and bondage. The band puts on a playful and jarring a take as possible, Anarchia practically licking up every line and lashing them back out, the playing feeling equal parts theatrical and unhinged.

Folterkammer’s music likely won’t appeal to wide swaths of the metal world due to its unconventional approach and sound, but those who connect to this are bound to go in hard, because it really is that good. From Anarchia’s mix of operatic singing to her sinister shrieks and the band’s fiery accompaniment, this record will leave listeners quivering, shaking, maybe a little aroused. This is a huge step up from their great debut album, and it’s something that’s going to stick in your sweat and saliva for a long time to come.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/folterkammer.music/

To buy the album, go here: https://centurymedia.store/collections/folterkammer

For more on the label, go here: https://www.centurymedia.com/