An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal

Kazea – I. Ancestral Review

By Iceberg

Kazea hail from Sweden, home of the Björiff and the chainsaw song of the HM2. But on their debut album, I. Ancestral, the Gothenburg trio promise to blend “the power of post-rock, the haunting melodies of neo-folk, and the crushing weight of sludge.” If the mere mention of sludge hasn’t sent you screaming from the room, good, because you’re in for a treat today. I dealt with posty sludge from labelmates Besra in my n00b days, but throwing neo-folk into the mix puts an unusual spin on the situation. While both styles revel in their simplicity of content, the open soundscapes of folk could provide much-needed contrast against sludge’s distorted chugging. Or it could devolve into a mishmash of styles that don’t share any common language. Whatever the musical case, there’s no denying the gorgeous poetry of Frederico Garcia Lorca in opener “With A Knife:” “Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea. The horse on the mountain.” Color me intrigued.

Kazea choose to separate and highlight, rather than amalgamate, their stylistic influences, a gamble that pays off more often than not. Dusky acoustic guitars reminiscent of Gustavo Santaolalla or A Romance With Violence-era Wayfarer lead the folk-inspired sections, evoking untamed, pagan wilderness (“With A Knife,” “A Strange Burial”). The sludge, which forms the backbone of Kazea’s sound, is more Melvins than Mastodon, and a lot of American Scrap-era Huntsmen, with fuzzy guitars and stomping drum patterns (“Whispering Hand,” “Wailing Blood”). Jonas Mattsson’s vocals may be a bit controversial here, with their Billy Corgan-esque nasal quality, but the more I listened to I. Ancestral the more Mattsson’s performance stuck with me. I hear shades of Layne Staley in his scrawling delivery, and while I wasn’t always able to discern the lyrics, his dynamic croon forms the beating heart of the album’s post-metal tunes (“Trenches,” “Seamlessly Woven”).

For a band handing in their debut record, Kazea slither and wind their way around 37 minutes with the hallmarks of seasoned songwriters. An air of storytelling pervades the album, with memorable spoken word fragments (“A Little Knife,” “A Strange Burial”) and ambient soundscapes (“The North Passage,” “Seamlessly Woven”) delivering post-metal’s cinematics within a sludge framework. Post-metal swells and crashes à la This Will Destroy You and Isis are found on “Trenches” and “Seamlessly Woven,” and while these are unsurprisingly the longest tracks on the record they handle their duration well, with the latter providing one of the strongest, heart-wrenching choruses I’ve heard all year long. Even “Whispering Hand,” which is something akin to pop sludge, is a radio-ready anthem full of earworms that evokes the better moments of Them Crooked Vultures.

I. Ancestral is a promising opening for Kazea’s proposed musical series, and its flaws are few and far between. Daniel Olsson’s drums are powerful, and the groove laid down in “The North Passage” marches in mammoth lockstep with Rasmus Lindbolm’s bass, but the minimalist tribal kick/toms/snare pattern begins to feel a bit overused the longer one listens to the record. “Pale City Skin” and “Wailing Blood” both start strongly but spin their riff wheels a touch too long, giving in to the tendency of both sludge and post-metal to utilize repetition for content. And while a master by Cult of Luna’s Magnus Lindberg is roomy and darkly colorful, the vocal mix does get buried in the busier sections of the album, which is a shame because these constitute some of the best music I. Ancestral has to offer (“Trenches,” “Seamlessly Woven”). But the overall impression of Kazea’s debut beats its blemishes, presenting a stark and unique voice formed from disparate influences.

“…with a knife. With a little knife that just fits into the palm.” The chilling denouement of “With A Knife” has stuck with me as I’ve ruminated over I. Ancestral. It neatly encapsulates the album, weaving shadowy, wooded energy into an unlikely combination of post-metal and sludge. The album is smartly edited and easy to pore over multiple times, with repeat listens revealing some standout moments: “Whispering Hand” is a shamelessly fun sludge anthem, and “Seamlessly Woven” is the most emotionally packed closer I’ve heard since The Drowning’s “Blood Marks My Grave.” I think Kazea have knocked it out of the park with this debut, and are on the verge of coalescing their sound into something truly remarkable. Don’t sleep on these guys.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Suicide Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 21st, 2025

#2025 #35 #GustavoSantaolalla #Hunstmen #IAncestral #Isis #Kazea #Mar25 #Melvins #NeoFolk #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #SuicideRecords #SwedishMetal #ThemCrookedVultures #ThisWillDestroyYou #Wayfarer

K L P S – K L P S Review

By Maddog

Determined to explode my word count while safeguarding my character count, K L P S is a familiar band with an unfamiliar name. The band’s 2023 debut Phantom Centre, released under the name Kollaps\e, got stuck in our filter before I yanked it out. Phantom Centre’s sludgy mix of atmosphere and eighteen-wheeler riffs made it concise and compelling, albeit one-track. Two years on, K L P S sees Sweden’s sludgers drop a backslash and four letters while adding even chunkier riffs, more atmosphere, and three non-breaking spaces.1 After an already-promising start, K L P S has taken one leap closer to being a titan of their genre.

K L P S takes Phantom Centre’s measurements and doubles each one. The riffs are bigger, with distorted rhythmic explosions that recall LLNN. Conversely, even these heavier sections come drenched in post-hardcore sorrow. Adding to the soup, K L P S’ use of chunky riffwork to build meditative atmospheres resembles stoner sludge acts like Dvne. While K L P S has amped up their extremity, K L P S’ softer pieces step up as well. The album’s sparser passages, often featuring just simple guitar melodies and ritualistic drum beats, add stark contrast to its heavyweights. Although K L P S is less rhythmic and bass-focused than Phantom Centre, it magnifies nearly every other dimension of its predecessor. The resulting record bears the familiar markers of sludge, but accentuates them all to avoid fading into irrelevance.

K L P S’ blend of heft and emotion makes every track a highlight. The album’s hulking riffs harness sludge’s power while eschewing its typical laziness, tethering themselves to ominous, infectious melodies (“Undertow”). Aided by blackened motifs, even these heavy segments ooze pathos (“Subverse”). K L P S’ descents into minimalism stand in stark musical contrast but embody the same strengths, using subtle melodic tweaks to both hypnotize and grip the listener (“Katarsis”). The record’s greatest triumph is that it never treats these diverse elements as mutually exclusive. The sections that blur the line between heart and muscle show off the best that K L P S has to offer, like the interplay of meditative guitars, post-rock ambience, and climactic riffcraft on “Tribulation.” Like Amenra before them, K L P S wields beauty and brawn in ways that are at once worlds apart and inextricable.

Although K L P S remains interesting throughout, its tracks bleed together over several listens. The album’s six songs have similar lengths and lean into similar styles, without a clear sense of evolution or climax in the tracklist. While each song navigates deftly between serene minimalism and sludgy cacophony, this style grows stale by the end. K L P S’ production choices magnify this feeling; although each instrumental line shines through, the loud master and the muddled sludge riffs make K L P S seem more repetitive than it really is. Still, these are faint splotches on an otherwise impressive record. Given its tempered 43-minute runtime, K L P S never threatens to lose my interest altogether. And when the album does prioritize buildup and climax, the results are spectacular. The closer “Aureola” takes the cake, using powerful melodies to anchor the listener before building up into oblivion and then back down into cathartic quiet. K L P S would benefit from more of this continuity overall.

K L P S has improved upon their debut on nearly every axis. While Phantom Centre was already a breath of fresh air in a moldy genre, K L P S steps up its riffs, its ambience, and its emotional weight. Displaying an uncanny level of maturity, K L P S’ sophomore release shines by blending these elements into a heady brand of sludge where the riffs have soul and the atmosphere has grit. While I wish K L P S had more ebb and flow as an album, its masterful songs keep me coming back for more. Even skeptics of sludge and post-metal owe this hidden gem a listen.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: These Hands Melt
Websites: kollapsemusic.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/kollapsemusik
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Amenra #Dvne #KLPS #Kollapse #LLNN #Mar25 #PostHardcore #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #SwedishMetal #TheseHandsMelt

Stuck in the Filter: January 2025’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

We enter January under the impression that our underpowered filtration system couldn’t possibly get any more clogged up. Those blistering winds that overwhelm the vents with an even greater portion of debris and detritus pose a great challenge and a grave danger to my minions. Crawling through the refuse as more flies in all william-nilliam, my faithful lackeys brave the perils of the job and return, as they always do, with solid chunks of semi-precious ore.

And so I stand before you, my greedy little gremlins, in a freshly pressed flesh suit that only the elite like myself adorn, and present January 2025’s Filter finds. REJOICE!

Kenstrosity’s Fresh(ish) Finds

Bloodcrusher // Voidseeker [January 9th, 2025 – Barf Bag Records]

The sun rises on a new year, and most are angrier than ever. What’s a better way to process that anger than jamming a phat slab of brutal slamming deathcore into your gob, right? Oregon one-man-slammajamma Bloodcrusher understand this, and so sophomore outburst Voidseeker provides the goods. These are tunes meant not for musicality or delicacy but for brute-force face-caving. Ignorant stomps and trunk-rattling slams trade blows with serrated tremolo slides and a dry pong snare with a level of ferocity uncommon even in this unforgiving field (“Agonal Cherubim ft. Jack Christensen”). Feel the blistering heat of choice cuts “Serpents Circle ft. Azerate Nakamura” or “Death Battalion: Blood Company ft. The Gore Corps” and you have no choice but to submit to their immense heft. Prime lifting material, Voidseeker’s most straightforward cuts guarantee shattered PRs and spontaneous combustion of your favorite gym shorts as your musculature explodes in volume (“Slave Cult,” “Sanguis Aeternus,” “Blood Frenzy”). If you ask me, that sounds like a wonderful problem to have. As they pummel your cranium into dust with deadly slam riffs (“Malus et Mortis ft. Ryan Sporer,” “Seeker of the Void,” “Earthcrusher”) or hack and slash your bones with serrated tremolos (“Razors of Anguish,” “Methmouth PSA”), remember that Bloodcrusher is only trying to help.

Skaldr // Saṃsṛ [January 31st, 2025 – Avantgarde Music]

Virginia’s black metal upstarts Skaldr don’t do anything new. If you’ve heard any of black metal’s second wave, or even more melodic fare by some of my favorite meloblack bands like Oubliette, Stormkeep, and Vorga, Skaldr’s material feels like a cozy blanket of fresh snow. Kicking off their second record, Saṃsṛ, in epic fashion, “The Sum of All Loss” evokes a swaying dance that lulls me into its otherwordly arms. As Saṃsṛ progresses through its seven movements, tracks like the gorgeous “Storms Collide” and the lively “The Crossing” strike true every synapse in my brain, flooding my system with a goosebump-inducing fervor quelled solely by the burden of knowing it must end. Indeed, these short 43 minutes leave me ravenous for more, as Skaldr’s lead-focused wiles charm me over and over again without excess repetition of motifs or homogenization of tones and textures (“From Depth to Dark,” “The Cinder, The Flame, The Sun”). Some of its best moments eclipse its weakest, but weak moments are thankfully few and far between. In reality, Skaldr‘s most serious flaw is that they align so closely with their influences, thereby limiting Saṃsṛ‘s potential to stand out. Nonetheless, it represents one of the more engaging and well-realized examples of the style. Hear it!

Subterranean Lava Dragon // The Great Architect [January 23rd, 2025 – Self Release]

Formed from members of Black Crown Initiate and Minarchist, Pennsylvania’s Subterranean Lava Dragon take the successful parts of their pedigree’s progressive death metal history and transplant them into epic, fantastical soundscapes on their debut LP The Great Architect. Despite the riff-focused, off-kilter nature of The Great Architect, there lies a mystical, mythical backbone behind everything Subterranean Lava Dragon do (“The Great Architect,” “Bleed the Throne”). Delicate strums of the guitar, multifaceted percussion, and noodly soloing provide a thoughtful thread behind the heaviest crush of prog-death riffs and rabid roars, a combination that favorably recalls Blind the Huntsmen (“The Silent Kin,” “A Dream of Drowning”). In a tight 42 minutes, Subterranean Lava Dragon approaches progressive metal with a beastly heft and a compelling set of teeth—largely driven by the expert swing and swagger of the bass guitar—that differentiates The Great Architect from the greater pool of current prog. Yet, its pursuit of creative song structure, reminiscent of Obsidious at times, allows textured gradations and nuanced layers to elevate the final product (“A Question of Eris,” “Ov Ritual Matricide”). It is for these reasons that I heartily recommend The Great Architect to anyone who appreciates smart, but still dangerous and deadly, metal.

Thus Spoke’s Likeable Leftovers

Besna // Krásno [January 16th, 2025 – Self Release]

It was the esteemed Doom et Al who first made me aware of Solvakian post-black group Besna. 2022’s Zverstvá was charming and moving in equal respects, with its folky vibe amplifying the punch of blackened atmosphere and epicness. With Krásno, the group take things in a sharper, more refined, and still more compelling direction, showing real evolution and improvement. The vague leanings towards the electronic play a larger role (“Zmráka sa,” “Hranice”), but songs also make use of snappier, and stronger emotional surges (“Krásno,” “Mesto spí”), the polished production to the atmospherics counterbalanced sleekly by the rough, ardent screams and pleasingly prominent percussion. Krásno literally translates as ‘beautiful,’ and Besna get away with titling their sophomore so bluntly because it is accurate. Melodies are more sweeping and stirring (“Krásno,” “Oceán prachu,” “Meso spí”), and the integration of the harsh amidst the mellow is executed more affectively (“Hranice,” “Bezhviezdna obloha”) than in the band’s previous work. Particularly potent are Krásno’s subtle nods and reprises of harmonic themes spanning the record (“Krásno,” “Oceán prachu,” “Mesto spí”), recurring like waves in an uplifting way that reminds me of Deadly Carnage‘s Through the Void, Above the Suns. Barely scraping past half an hour, the beautiful Krásno can be experienced repeatedly in short succession; which is the very least this little gem deserves.

Tyme’s Ticking Bomb

Trauma Bond // Summer Ends. Some Are Long Gone [January 12, 2025 – Self-Released]

Conceptualized by multi-instrumentalist Tom Mitchell1 and vocalist Eloise Chong-Gargette, London, England’s Trauma Bond plays grindcore with a twist. Formed in 2020 and on the heels of two other EPs—’21’s The Violence of Spring and ’22’s Winter’s Light—January 2025 sees Trauma Bond release its first proper album, Summer Ends. Some Are Long Gone, the third in a seasonally themed quadrilogy. Twisting and reshaping the boundaries of grindcore, not unlike Beaten to Death or Big Chef, Trauma Bond douses its grind with a gravy boat full of sludge. Past the moodily tribal and convincing intro “Brushed by the Storm” lies fourteen minutes of grindy goodness (“Regards,” “Repulsion”), sludgian skullduggery (“Chewing Fat”), and caustic cantankerousness (“Thumb Skin for Dinner”). You’ll feel violated and breathless even before staring down the barrel of nine-and-a-half minute closer “Dissonance,” a gargantuanly heavy ear-fuck that will liquefy what’s left of the organs inside your worthless skin with its slow, creeping sludgeastation. I was not expecting to hear what Trauma Bond served up, as the minimalist cover art drew me in initially, but I’m digging it muchly. Independently released, Summer Ends. Some Are Long Gone is a hell of an experience and should garner Trauma Bond a label partner. I’ll be hoping for that, continuing to support them, and looking forward to whatever autumn brings.

Iceberg’s Bleak Bygones

Barshasketh // Antinomian Asceticsm [January 9th, 2025 – W.T.C Productions]

My taste for black metal runs a narrow, anti-secondwave path. I want oppressive, nightmarish atmosphere, sure, but I also crave rich, modern production and technically proficient instrumental performances. Blending the fury of early Behemoth, the cinematic scope of Deathspell Omega, and the backbeat-supported drones of Panzerfaust, Barshasketh’s latest fell square in my target area. The pealing bells of “Radiant Aperture” beckoned me into Antinomian Asceticsm’s sacred space, a dark world populated with rippling drum fills, surprisingly melodic guitar work, and a varied vocal attack that consistently keeps things fresh. With the average track length in the 6-minute territory, repeat listens are necessary to reveal layers of rhythm and synth atmosphere that give the album its complexity. A throwaway interlude (“Phaneron Engulf”) and a drop in energy in the second and third tracks stop this from being a TYMHM entry, but anyone with a passing interest in technical black metal with lots of atmosphere should check this out.

Deus Sabaoth // Cycle of Death [January 17th, 2025 – Self-Released]

Deus Sabaoth have a lot going for them to catch my attention, beyond that absolutely entrancing cover art. Released under the shadow of war, this debut record from the Ukrainian trio bills itself as “Baroque metal,” another tag that piqued my interest. Simply put, Deus Sabaoth play melodic black metal, but there’s a lot more brewing under the surface. I hear the gothic, unsettled storytelling of The Vision Bleak, the drenching laments of Draconian, and the diligent, dynamic riffing of Mistur. The core metal ensemble of guitar, bass and drums is present, but the trio is augmented by a persistent accompaniment of piano and strings. The piano melodies—often doubled on the guitar—are where the baroque influence shines the greatest, echoing the bouncing, repetitive styling of a toccata (“Mercenary Seer,” “Faceless Warrior”). The vocals are something of an acquired taste, mainly due to their too-far-forward mix, but there’s a vitality and drive to this album that keeps me hooked throughout. And while its svelte 7 song runtime feels more like an EP at times, Cycle of Death shows enough promise from the young band that I’ll keep my eyes peeled in the future.

GardensTale’s Tab of Acid

I Don’t Do Drugs, I Am Drugs // I Don’t Do Drugs, I Am Drugs [January 27th, 2025 – Self-released]

When you name yourself after a famous Salvador Dalí quote, you better be prepared to back it up with an appropriate amount of weird shit. Thankfully, I Don’t Do Drugs, I Am Drugs strives to be worthy of the moniker. The band’s self-titled debut is a psychedelic prog-death nightmare of off-kilter riffs, structures that seem built upon dream logic, layers of ethereal synths and bizarre mixtures of vocal styles. The project was founded by Scott Hogg, guitarist for Cyclops Cataract, who is responsible for everything but the vocals. That includes all the songwriting. Hogg throws the listener off with an ever-shifting array of Gojira-esque plodding syncopation and thick, throbbing layers of harmonics that lean discordant without fully shifting into dissonance. But the songs float as easily into other-worldly soundscapes (“The Tree that Died in it’s[sic] Sleep”) or off-putting balladry (“Confierous”). BP of Madder Mortem handles vocals, and he displays an aptitude for the many facets required to buoy the intriguing but unintuitive music, his shouts and screams and cleans and hushes often layered together in strange strata either more or less than human. The combined result resembles a nightmare Devin may have had around 2005 after listening too much Ephel Duath. It’s not yet perfected; the ballad doesn’t quite work, and the compositions are sometimes a bit too dedicated to their lack of handholds. But it’s a hell of a trip, and a very convincing mission statement. A band to keep an eye on!

Dear Hollow’s Gunk Behooval

Bloodbark // Sacred Sound of Solitude [January 3rd, 2025 – Northern Silence Productions]

Bloodbark’s debut Bonebranches offered atmospheric black metal a minimalist spin, as cold and relentless as Paysage d’Hiver, as textured as Fen, and as barren as the mountains it depicts, exuding a natural crispness that recalls Falls of Rauros. Seven years later, we are graced with its follow-up, the majestic Sacred Sound of Solitude. Like its predecessor, the classic atmoblack template is cut with post-black to create an immensely rich and dynamic tapestry, lending all the hallmarks of frostbitten blackened sound (shrieks, blastbeats, tremolo) with the depth of a more modern approach. Twinkling leads, frosty synths, and forlorn piano survey the frigid vistas, while the more furious blackened portions scale snowbound peaks, utilized with the utmost restraint and bound by yearning chord progressions (“Glacial Respite,” “Griever’s Domain”). A new element in the act’s sound is clean vocals (“Time is Nothing,” “Augury of Snow”), which lend a far more melancholy vibe alongside trademark shrieking. Bloodbark offers top-tier atmospheric black metal, a reminder of the always-looming winter.

Great American Ghost // Tragedy of the Commons [January 31st, 2025 – SharpTone Records]

Boston’s Great American Ghost used to be extremely one-note, a coattail-rider of the likes of Kublai Khan and Knocked Loose. Deathcore muscles whose veins pulse to the beat of a hardcore heart, you’d be forgiven to see opener “Kerosene” as a sign of stagnation – chunky breakdowns and punk beats, feral barks and callouts, and a hardcore frowny face sported throughout. But Tragedy of the Commons is a far more layered affair, with echoes of metalcore past (“Ghost in Flesh,” “Hymns of Decay”), pronounced and tasteful nu-metal influence a la Deftones (“Genocide,” “Reality/Relapse”), and more variety in their rhythms and tempos, reflecting a Fit for an Autopsy-esque cutthroat intensity and ominous crescendos alongside a more pronounced influence of melody and manic dissonance (“Echoes of War,” “Forsaken”). Is it still meatheaded? Absolutely. Are its more “experimental” pieces in just well-trodden paths of metalcore bands past? Oh definitely. But gracing Great American Ghost a voice beyond the hardcore beatdowns does Tragedy of the Commons good and gives this one-trick pony another trail to wander.

Steel Druhm’s Detestible Digestibles

Guts // Nightmare Fuel [January 31st, 2025 – Self-Release]

Finland’s Guts play a weird “caveman on a Zamboni” variant of groove-heavy death metal that mixes OSDM with sludge and stoner elements for something uniquely sticky and pulversizing. On Nightmare Fuel, the material keeps grinding forward at a universal mid-tempo pace powered by phat, crushing grooves. “571” sounds like a Melvins song turned into a death metal assault, and it shouldn’t work, but it very much does. The blueprint for what Guts do is so basic, but they manage to keep cracking skulls on track after track as you remain locked in place helplessly. Nightmare Fuel is a case study into how less can be MOAR, as Guts staunchly adhere to their uncomplicated approach and make it work so well. Each track introduces a rudimentary riff and beats you savagely with it for 3-4 minutes with little variation. Things reset for the next track, and a new riff comes out to pound you into schnitzel all over again. This is the Guts experience, and you will be utterly mulched by massive prime movers like “Mortar” and “Ravenous Leech,” the latter of which sounds like an old Kyuss song refitted with death vocals and unleashed upon mankind. The relentlessly monochromatic riffs are things of minimalist elegance that you need to experience. Nightmare Fuel is a slow-motion ride straight into a brick wall, so brace for a concrete facial.

#2025 #AmericanMetal #AntinomianAsceticism #AtmosphericBlackMetal #AvantgardeMusic #BarfBagRecords #Barshasketh #BeatenToDeath #Behemoth #Besna #BigChef #BlackCrownInitiate #BlackMetal #BlindTheHuntsmen #Bloodbark #Bloodcrusher #BrutalDeathMetal #Converge #CycleOfDeath #CyclopsCataract #DeadlyCarnage #DeathMetal #Deathcore #DeathspellOmega #Deftones #DeusSabaoth #DevinTownsend #DoomMetal #Draconian #EphelDuath #FallsOfRauros #Fen #FitForAnAutopsy #Gojira #GothicMetal #GreatAmericanGhost #Grind #Grindcore #Guts #Hardcore #IDonTDoDrugsIAmDrugs #Jan25 #KnockedLoose #Krásno #KublaiKhan #MadderMortem #MelodicBlackMetal #Minarchist #Mistur #NightmareFuel #NorthernSilenceProductions #NuMetal #Oubliette #Panzerfaust #PaysageDHiver #PostBlack #ProgressiveDeathMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SacredSoundOfSolitude #SamSr_ #SelfRelease #SharpToneRecords #Skaldr #Slam #SlovakianMetal #Sludge #Stormkeep #StuckInTheFilter #SubterraneanLavaDragon #SummerEndsSomeAreLongGone #TheGreatArchitect #TheVisionBleak #TragedyOfTheCommons #TraumaBond #UKMetal #UkranianMetal #Voidseeker #Vorga #WTCProductions

Rustorm – Gravity Review

By GardensTale

I feel like I’ve seen an uptick in bands formed from people who played music several decades ago and only recently returned to it. One explanation could be empty nest syndrome: dropping out of music to raise a kid, pick up an old hobby once they’ve moved out. Midlife crises are a popular scapegoat as well, but sometimes it’s just the natural waxing and waning of interests as life takes us hither and tither. Rustorm is two Brits, Jules McBride (bass) and Rob Lewis (everything else),1 who were last seen around the turn of the century with short-lived alternative metal band Pulkas. A couple years ago they pulled the spiderwebs off their old gear, bought a couple of new pedals, and got to writing. Gravity is their second outing, but is Rustorm still rusty or does it take us by storm?

Before you get the wrong idea, these guys haven’t picked up where Pulkas left off playing alt metal. Instead, Rustorm peddles an atmospheric brand of doom-laden sludge, employing hypnotic rhythms, layered synths, and purposeful repetition. The riffs are simplistic, intending not to dazzle or hook but to impart overwhelming weight with their crushing gravel-filled textures. McBride does the other half of that job, with a thick, thrumming bass that’s given plenty of room to add more heft. With a couple of instrumental tracks (“Low-down” and “Suspension of Gravity”) and a few higher energy bangers in the back half (“Drown it out” and “Seven Sacrifice”), the 38 minute package is a well-rounded set of songs that may not shock the world, but absolutely appeals.

Gravity is nonetheless still quite rough around the edges. Lewis’ vocal style consists of a bark from the throat with limited range. It’s the most technically challenged item on the bill, often coming across as harsh speaking rather than singing. But Rustorm does use the vocals in a more percussive rather than melodic manner, which mitigates the damage a tad. Rustorm suffers from a few other issues besides the vocals, but they are predictable and not very serious. A focus on texture and atmosphere at the expense of more involved riffs or hooks often means songs can get a little repetitive as they go on, and the compositions can feel somewhat risk-averse.

But Rustorm hits more than it misses. “Snowcrash” is the first and highest peak, its synths setting a sinister tone akin to old school horror movies that gels well with the bleak lyrical content. The back half sketches in a darker shade overall and is better for it. “Drown it Out” takes on shades of New York hardcore and is poised to cause some teeth to be left on the floor of the mosh pit, and “Seven Sacrifice” has a nasty and gnarly chorus that contrasts nicely with the atmospheric verses. Considering Gravity was self-produced, the production is quite solid as well. Though the vocals tend to be high in the mix and the synths sound a bit too stock, the guitars and bass have a very nice, crunchy texture that supports the band’s heavy sound. The mastering is slightly dense, but only to the point of feeling oppressive, not sounding like shit.

Rustorm is a passion project, that much is clear, and Gravity a labor of love. The gents won’t be shocking the world or headlining festivals anytime soon; they don’t have the polish yet, nor the level of songwriting. The music can be overly simplistic in structure, the vocals too one-note. But there is a lot of charm to Gravity, a commitment to a vision that shines past the little flaws. It comes through in the ominous atmosphere, the crushing low-tuned riffs, and the deliberate pacing. It makes me wanna turn the volume up, put on my nasty face, bob my head on the beat, and grunt about snowcrashes and sacrifices. What’s a better mark of success than that?

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-released
Websites: rustorm.bandcamp.com | rustorm.net | facebook.com/RustormMusic
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AtmosphericMetal #BritishMetal #DoomMetal #Gravity #Mar25 #Pulkas #Review #Reviews #Rustorm #SelfReleased #Sludge

Weed Demon – The Doom Scroll Review

By Steel Druhm

Written By: Nameless_N00b_90

With the recent slate of studies linking alcohol to cancer, Weed Demon is here to remind you there are other mind-altering drugs at your disposal. Their latest dispensary of choice is The Doom Scroll, the third full-length LP by these Ohioans. While weed-infused band names are a dime bag a dozen in the stoner metal scene, you might be surprised to learn these guys have been at it for a decade.1 Like the drugs that inspire the music, stoner metal is meant to help you relax, maybe bob your head a little, and occasionally pull off the perfect Keanu “Whoa!” The question is, does Weed Demon have this excellent sauce, or does The Doom Scroll incur the nasty side effects of the local dealer’s bath salt-laced wares?

At its core, The Doom Scroll is a mix of sludge ‘n’ roll and stoner doom. The guitar tone is thick, low, and heavy, and the tempo is (mostly) slow enough to be chill. Songs alternate between heavy stoner riffs à la Black Sabbath and Mastodon and exploratory instrumentation more akin to Pink Floyd. Appropriately, Weed Demon also likes to experiment. There’s some high-tempo thrash, the twang of blues, and organs for a trip into dungeon synth. And while some of these styles certainly feel out of place for a stoner album, there’s enough wah pedal psychedelia to remind you it’s all part of the trip. However, Weed Demon are at their best when they stick to simple, catchy riffs, putting tunes in my head that just won’t get out.

Weed Demon leans heavily into the instrumental prowess of its members. On guitars Andy Center and Brian Buckley (Elk, Wurm Sun) switch seamlessly between various styles, playing dreamy expository passages one minute and then strumming some muscular riffs the next. Their repetitive, no-flair riffing sets up the most memorable moments on tracks like “Tower of Smoke” and “Roasting the Sacred Bones.” Behind the kit, Nick Carter (Wurm Sun, not Backstreet Boys), keeps the tempo relaxed without bashing the drums too loudly because he knows you might be hungover. When the vocalists do make an appearance (“Coma Dose”, “Roasting the Sacred Bones”), they’re a mixed bag. Guest vocalist, Shy Kennedy (Funerals, Horehound) sounds like he’s singing into a microphone muffled by a pillow, an odd production choice. On the other hand, Jordan Holland’s (Domestic Terror) hoarse death metal growls add a lot of needed weight to the music, and I think The Doom Scroll would have benefited from using him more.

As much airtime as the catchy riffs get in my head, there’s just not enough of them. In fact, there’s hardly enough material to justify a full-length record. While five songs and thirty-one minutes sounds like a concise length,2 The Doom Scroll would have been better served as an EP at half the length. The two bookends in particular feel out of place. Intro track “Acid Dungeon” is nearly three minutes of trippy synths, while closer “Dead Planet Blues” would have had a better home on Lathe’s country metal EP, Hillclimber. Of the remaining songs, not one is under 6 minutes, and each could use a bit of trimming. Weed Demon, simply, spends too much time on their intros and outros. “Roasting the Sacred Bones” suffers from having two distinct introductory sections. “Coma Dose,” which breaks the nine-minute mark, ends with four minutes of discordant riffage, only one minute of which works, carrying on for too long like a trip gone awry.

Though The Doom Scroll isn’t quite satisfactory as a whole, Weed Demon have displayed they have it in them to make a killer album. They have an infectious swagger but lack the discipline to focus and tighten up their sound. Don’t let the score below keep you from giving this a spin or two. There are some truly impressive moments that still get replay in my head long after The Doom Scroll is over. There’s plenty of great ideas here, but they just needed more time to cook. As such, I await the next batch of product from these guys with hope and excitement for a good time.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Electric Valley Records
Websites: smokeweeddemon.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/weeddemonsludge
Releases Worldwide: January 31st, 2025

#20 #AmericanMetal #BlackSabbath #ElectricValleyRecords #Mastodon #PinkFloyd #Review #Reviews #Sludge #SludgeMetal #StonerRock #StonerSludge #TheDoomScroll #WeedDemon

Mantar – Post Apocalyptic Depression Review

By Saunders

German duo Mantar exploded onto the scene on 2014’s massive debut LP Death By Burning, unleashing a raw collection of doom-flecked, blackened punk-sludge anthems. Boasting a nasty streak and series of ginormous grooves and infectiously hooky riffs and songwriting, the album had a fresh appeal, featuring nods towards legendary acts, Motörhead and Melvins. An equally impressive sophomore album followed, solidifying Mantar as a dependable force as their career progressed. Despite recent efforts not quite hitting the impressive highs of their early work, Mantar remain true to the old ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ motto to solid effect. Returning with a fifth album of original material, can Post Apocalyptic Depression find Mantar raising the takes to return to the intense highs of their early work, or will they fall victim to the dreaded Law of Diminishing returns?

Mantar’s signature sound remains distinctive and easy to like. The duo’s more refined songwriting and polished modern production may have slightly compromised the nastier edge and rawer traits that proved so effective on Death By Burning and Ode to the Flame, however, the duo’s sound has certainly not lost its edge. Each song packs revved-up energy, punky attitude, and ample heft to get the blood pumping and the head bobbing in unison with Mantar’s groovy swagger and penchant for burly, surly riffs and hooky songcraft. In this respect Mantar treads similar terrain to their past couple of albums, pumping out compact, energetic ditties at a lively clip. Whereas the first couple of albums featured a darker, brooding menace and venomous edge, Post Apocalyptic Depression leans into the hard-hitting rock grooves and straightforward songwriting to warm, comforting, if less potent effect.

The raucous delivery and no-frills blueprint pay dividends for the most part, making for a punchy, compact listen. While mostly sticking to his trademark raspy snarl, Hanno’s endearing vocals possess a wickedly infectious knack for sing-along vocal hooks and accessibility that belies the seething elements and blackened touches that still frame the Mantar sound. It’s especially cool when he layers things up with a cleaner, punky snarl to offset his signature rasp. A quick burst of feedback kicks off opener “Absolute Ghost,” leading headlong into a thumping beat and typically groovy punk-sludge riff. It’s a brisk, impactful beginning, setting the tone for what follows. Amidst nods to their punkier old school roots, Post Apocalyptic Depression doesn’t bust boundaries or challenge the duo’s best work. However, it proves a heavier and slightly less polished affair than its predecessor, with a thin layer of grime to dirty up otherwise sleek modern production values.

Running at a tight 35 minutes, quality mostly strikes a consistent standard. A handful of decent but less remarkable tunes (“Morbid Vocation,” “Principle of Command” and “Two Choices of Eternity”) sit alongside more memorable counterparts, including super catchy single “Rex Perverso,” and the more ambitious, seething throes of blackened sludge brawler, “Halsgericht.” Pacing occasionally stutters but never derails momentum thanks to other cut-above gems, such as the vicious punk tones and anthemic hooks of the excellent “Dogma Down,” and walloping one-two punch of “Pit of Guilt” and dubiously titled “Church of Suck.” Later in the piece, listeners will be pleased by the uglier, genuinely blackened intensity of the rabid “Axe Death Scenario.” Hanno’s solid guitar work and punk-charged sludgy riffs still carry plenty of bite and heft. Melodic undertones and groovy textures provide some extra versatility and nuance to otherwise straight-ahead jams, further driven by Erinc’s powerhouse, no-nonsense rhythms and hard-hitting style. Production is less glossy than its predecessor but again lacks the unrefined sonic charms of their earlier material, further dulled by compressed mastering.

Over a decade removed from their punishing debut, Mantar continue delivering the dependable goods. And at this point, it’s hard to imagine them dropping a dud album anytime soon. All the key ingredients remain, the writing is as catchy as ever, and while impact may not match the might of their early work, the duo retains their fun, rollicking yet uncompromising style and infectious songcraft. On the flipside, things are getting a little too predictable over the past few albums, with the weaker, or stock standard tunes scattered amidst some genuinely top-shelf anthems compromising overall quality. Mileage will vary, but Mantar’s Post Apocalyptic Depression is another worthy and entertaining addition to the Mantar canon.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade
Websites: mantarbandcamp.com | facebook.com/mantarband
Releases Worldwide: February 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #BlackenedSludge #Doom #GermanMetal #Mantar #Melvins #MetalBladeRecords #Motörhead #PostApocalypticDepression #PunkMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge

Negative 13 – Recover What You Can Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

What is a second life but a life that has just gone on long enough to find multiple waves of success? Artists at all levels that we cover here at Angry Metal Guy HQ, often, deliver their albums to the world for the love of the game—not the glitz or glory. Negative 13, as a collective of friends, reignited their passion for the game to release 2022’s long-awaited Mourning Asteri, a satisfying sludge platter full of punky energy and melancholy. And this time, only three years later, Recover What You Can arrives in a timely and timelessly snarling manner, ready to show again how friends who suffer together come out all the stronger.

It’s uncanny how textbook sludge Negative 13 hits without sounding too similar to any one big name through Recover. In many ways, their older origins play some part in this differentiation, with the inspiration from their sound reaching back equally to proto-acts like riff-churned Into the Pandemonium-era Celtic Frost1 or early post-punky Swans as it does to NOLA groove flagbearers like Eyehategod. As such, as is necessary in well-weighted doom and sludge endeavors, Negative 13 lives on the edge of amp-carved charges, finding life in a breadth of volume-driven and pedal-kissed tones. Without an abused guitar, a cranked amp, and a strained throat, Recover What You Can would not exist.

Though Negative 13 has chosen to keep Recover’s run lean, they’ve not forgotten to imbue every intro, verse, chorus, and space in between with the drag and hustle of furious riffage. An unfettered, surfy twang tramples through “The Vulture Circles” to kick off a punk-sneered ripper. A crushed and gated scrawl filters and folds into monstrous chords that back a creaky, impassioned bellow (“Horizon Divides”). And borrowing tactics from a faded The Jesus Lizard playbook, Negative 13 twists the longest cuts here with hissing feedback, near panic-level stabs, and frothing mouth mic abuse to bring heavyweight builds to emotional conclusions. It’s that tie to the heart that allows familiar marches and lockstep sways to resonate beyond the impact of loudness. Fervent cries to “pick yourself up and dust off your bones” (“The Vulture Circles”) and plaintive confessions that “I’ve been here before but it never plays out the same way” carry an earnest pathos that sews buzzing refrains to time-worn sleeves.

Recover suffers a strange fate at the hands of trim desires in that certain endings and transitions feel to be lacking that same tether that the songs hold within themselves. From the introductory “The Desolate” to quick burst “Casket Trail,” it’s not immediately apparent that the remainder of the album will skip along in a more disconnected manner as those two tracks function like a classic stage-hook blast. But starting with “The Vulture Circles” through to Recover’s close, we’re treated to an inconveniencing array of rapid-dissolve fade outs and awkward clips. An album closing with a hard stop can still have impact, but the kind of fuzzy cut that caps off the titular conclusion feels less like a swelling halt and more like turning a corner right into a wall. After repeated spins these kinds of minor stumbles settle into a strange, if learned, flow, reducing total grief. But I do wonder whether one additional shorter form jam could have pushed Recover across an even more satisfying line.

In its current state, however, Recover What You Can boasts a strong sludge performance that wields steadfast riff construction and heartfelt lyric expulsion in grooving balance. Born of a time after the genre’s inception and revived in a world far removed from its heyday, Negative 13 has remained an act discovered by happenstance—the deep (very deep) dive of a Neurosis-awakened neophyte, the Pittsburgh local who has known about them since day one, or you, dear reader, who may have seen their last output covered in these halls. Whatever the case—a curious mind of unstudied or well-read discovery—those who know of Negative 13 and long for an efficient and affective blend of doom power and punk fury will once again reap the rewards of patient and intentional output. Recover What You Can is unlikely to pull in the non-believers. To them we simply ask to listen and enjoy what you can.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Self Release
Websites: negative13.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/negativethirteen
Releases Worldwide: January 24th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #CelticFrost #DoomMetal #Eyehategod #Hardcore #Jan25 #Negative13 #Review #Reviews #Sludge #SludgeMetal #Swans #TheJesusLizard

Cave Sermon – Divine Laughter [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]

By Thus Spoke

When I finally heard Divine Laughter, it was closer to January 2025 than it was January this year, when Cave Sermon released it. This temporal technicality turned out to be trivial because its brilliance was immediately obvious. Divine Laughter traverses death, black, sludge, post, ambient, and more, exploring further, and committing harder to mania—as I later discovered—than debut Memory Spear, which I also devoured eagerly. There is primarily just one person behind Cave Sermon, Aussie musician Charlie Park, and until now, the project was instrumental. Miguel Méndez’ vocals—with an impressively versatile, unhinged, and savage performance—are a perfect accompaniment to what appears to be Cave Sermon’s signature abstract and interpretive compositional style, channeling a kind of musical stream of consciousness that must be experienced to be understood.

To say that Divine Laughter is affecting would be criminal understatement. The lyrics alone are touching in a sense totally devoid of sentimentality, reflecting a singularly modern capitalist loneliness, a hatred of human apathy, and a guilt in one’s complicity. But it is the truly magnificent way in which Parks tells (and Méndez narrates) this story musically which makes it so arresting. It feels, at its core, refreshingly and exhilaratingly organic; vibrant and smart and true. Reprises feel like the returning edges of a persistent thought, percussion is as often a tech-death texture as a sludgy battering ram (“Crystallised”), or a vague tap in a noisy void (“Birds and Machines in Brunswick,” “Divine Laughter”); barks pitch upwards into howls in sudden gasps of the realization of some depressing, mundane, and fearful reality (“Liquid Gold”). Quieter moments of almost folky naïveté brush up against acerbic sludginess, alien synth, and the pseudo-chaotically mixed nuts and bolts of razor-sharp death and black metal with a facile deftness I’ve not heard outside of Vicotnik’s work.1

With so few words, how can I convey Divine Laughter’s mania? Comparisons feel stale. The through lines, like paint in abstract art,2 play with and subvert the expected course of a given genre’s template. Energetic black(ened death)3 (“Beyond Recognition,” “The Paint of An Invader”) comes as a thrillingly uneven rain of vitriol. Angular, dissonant extremity tumbles into echoing industrialism, or dizzy ambience (“Beyond Recognition,” “Divine Laughter”); sludgy death remains off-kilter and wild, while charging prog-death rhythms stumble suddenly, (“Crystallised”) and spiraling solos precipitate turns to gazey post (“Liquid Gold”), and every other influence on display. Though there’s a rawness and frightfulness about the relentless transformations of guitar, vocals, and tempo, the use of synths and atmosphere, they remain surprisingly alluring thanks to the powerful emotions bubbling up in subtle resurgences of themes. A lot of this has to do with Méndez’ incredible vocal performance, another lot are these tangled, gorgeous compositions. There are so many of these beautiful, cathartic rises of yearning, urgent melody, and many of them come with the unforeseen force of involuntary emotional reaction (“Beyond Recognition,” “Liquid Gold,” “The Paint of An Invader”), though multiple listens show their edges were presaged.

The only potential stumbling block for Divine Laughter I can concede, is the noisy, sample-spliced “Birds and Machines in Brunswick.” Transitioning into the rather terrifying opening to “Divine Laughter” with its almost Portal-esque bellows, its five minutes stick out perhaps a little too much from the rest. It’s clear that this is an experiment, taking place in a transition period for Cave Sermon. Given the excellence of everything else about Divine Laughter, it is very easy to forgive this trifle. I can truly say that no album—at least in recent years—has so instantaneously affected me, smashing down the doors of my musical perception, and settling deep in my soul. Cave Sermon may have received shockingly little recognition so far,4 but they will no doubt soon be a name on the lips of many in whatever strange sphere of metal we find ourselves in.

Tracks to Check Out: Every one except “Birds and Machines in Brunswick” is mandatory listening.

#2024 #AustralianMetal #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeath #CaveSermon #DeathMetal #DivineLaughter #ExperimentalMetal #PostMetal #SelfReleases #Sludge #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2024 #TYMHM

Pillar of Light – Caldera Review

By Thus Spoke

A Caldera is a hollow resulting from the collapse of a volcano’s magma chamber, normally after an eruption. This lasting effect of catastrophe, in the form of a deep depression, describes a mental state as much as it does a geological phenomenon. Pillar of Light—who dedicate their debut Caldera to late friend Steven Jon Muczynski (Hollow Earth/Tharsis They)—channel this state in an unflinching exploration of mortality and misery. Through a crushing brand of sludgy doom, Pillar of Light rain bitter feelings and agonized resignation in a shower of pathos as massive and confrontational as that haunting, incandescent door.

It can be paradoxically enjoyable to indulge in one’s gloominess, and Caldera takes this right to the brink of real despair. With Aaron Whitfield screaming pure sadness and spite over the deceptively simple interplay of Scott Christie, Alex Kennedy, and James Obenour’s resonant riffs and crushing chords, to the pulse of Eric Scobie’s thump and crash, Pillar of Light ensures that every note, beat, and breath hits you firmly and squarely in the chest. The presence of reverberant guitar in a dense production is weighty enough, trudging bleakly along to sluggardly sludge, But it grants a solidity also to the mournful refrains that spill down out of an opening in the grey cloud in delicate atmospheric drops, or a downpour of rich tremolo. In their violence, and patient creep towards devastating, destructive outpourings, Pillar of Light frequently reminds me of Amenra—almost too much at times, though such a comparison is only a good thing for Caldera’s effectiveness.

If Caldera is designed to rip your heart out, then it succeeds. Drums and concrete guitar batter and beat you down, you crawl along the tense path of blunt near-dissonance, your breath catches in moments of atmospheric anticipation, or a shivering build, and then is knocked clean from you as you collapse in a devastatingly beautiful catharsis. If you’re me, listening alone in my flat on a dark November evening, you’re crying. If you’re not me, you might not be crying, but you’d have to have a heart of stone not to be moved by the grief (“Leaving”), the despair (“Infernal Gaze”), and the surrender (“Certain End”) that bleeds out of these massive mournful melodies. More muted harmonies bleed with apathy (“Wolf to Man,” “”Spared,” “Unseeing”) before they too succumb to pulchritudinous despair. Venomous barks and somber spoken-word become a mantra of misery as they repeat over blunt and beautiful themes alike (“Wolf to Man,” “Infernal Gaze”). Quiet should be taken gratefully, even as delicately wrought plucks precipitate further despondence (“Leaving,” “Eden,” “Unseeing”).

Across its near-hour-long runtime, Caldera hardly lets up on its emotional abuse, changing only the manner in which it assaults. “Spared” and “Unseeing,” etched with screeching slides, are cold and depressive whether dwelling in ringing atmospheres or dissonant chugging. Unflinching and inexorable next to the more overtly pathetic “Leaving,” and “Infernal Gaze,” with “Unseeing”‘s battering, disharmonic conclusion setting the stage for “Certain End”‘s crippling finale. Only the aptly-titled “Eden” offers peace in its three instrumental minutes that bridge “Spared,” and “Infernal Gaze,” its hazy, perhaps overlong reprieve serving to make “Infernal Gaze” that much more devastating. If one wanted to trim anything, taking a smidge out of “Eden” could be a start, while “Unseeing” could also be pared down. In all honesty, however, Caldera doesn’t feel nearly as long as it is. Something else worthy of note is that “Certain End” hits with a particular type of nostalgic intimacy due its theme reminding me very strongly of Amenra’s “A Solitary Reign.” It took me a couple of listens to realize the reason it felt so familiar, but I wouldn’t class it as plagiarism, just strong inspiration that makes a good song better.

It seems that every year, something lands right at the cusp of list season that threatens to demolish the neatly-considered line-up. Pillar of Light are guilty of this terrible timing as they single-handedly snatch my personal Best Doom of the Year title. Stunning by itself, as a debut Caldera sets a heavy precedent and stamps a deep imprint on the scene. As enduring as its namesake, Caldera is gorgeous and heartbreaking, and it won’t let me go.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 6th, 2024

#2024 #40 #Amenra #AmericanMetal #Caldera #Dec24 #DoomMetal #DoomSludge #PillarOfLight #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #TranscendingObscurityRecords