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

AMG Goes Ranking – Whitechapel

By Dear Hollow

The life of the unpaid, overworked metal reviewer is not an easy one. The reviewing collective at AMG lurches from one new release to the next, errors and n00bs strewn in our wake. But what if, once in a while, the collective paused to take stock and consider the discography of those bands that shaped many a taste? What if multiple aspects of the AMG collective personality shared with the slavering masses their personal rankings of that discography, and what if the rest of the personality used a Google sheet some kind of dark magic to produce an official guide to, and an all-around definitive aggregated ranking of, that band’s entire discography? Well, if that happened, we imagine it would look something like this…

Usually, when we do something like this, it increases our street cred in the underground, but I’m dead-set on ensuring our cred goes up in flames. This is Whitechapel, the epitome of why boomer metalheads yell at young ‘uns. For a hot minute, the Nashville juggernaut was ranked among the likes of Suicide Silence, Job for a Cowboy, and Carnifex, thanks to their brutalizing and divisive attack of deathcore. Toss in some lyrics about slaughtering prostitutes in 1880s London, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for millennial Hot Topic fandom.1 In retrospect, however, thanks to the act’s historic three-guitar attack and the iconic performances of vocalist Phil Bozeman, their whole “Cookie Monster with breakdowns” thing was a cut above the rest. I say that not just because I was a teen raised as an evangelical not allowed to listen to “This is Exile” and “Possession” (but secretly did anyway), although I’m sure that plays a very minor part.

Contrary to other long-running deathcore acts like Suicide Silence and Chelsea Grin, flexibility has been the key to Whitechapel’s longevity. Three distinct eras emerge: (1) deathcore for spooky Hot Topic frequenters (2006-2010), (2) chuggy minimalist deathcore (2012-2016),2 and (3) deathcore for Phil Bozeman to unpack personal traumas (2019-2021). With that, in anticipation for the upcoming “return to roots” release Hymns to Dissonance, let’s revisit the eight albums of Whitechapel, that deathcore band you stopped listening to because geezers said deathcore was lame.

– Dear Hollow

Dear Hollow

#8. The Somatic Defilement (2007) – The influence of this album cannot be understated, but its crisis of murky grime and polished clarity – with a never-again-addressed orchestral flare – makes Whitechapel’s first official foray a confused album, nonetheless worthy of the likes of Suicide Silence and Carnifex. Punishment front and center with a murderizing theme that reflected its Jack the Ripper-inspired moniker, there’s a lot of chunky breakdowns and Phil’s absolutely vicious vocals in their fledgling stage, reflected in chunky hatred (“Fairy Fay,” “Ear to Ear”) and shining riffage that cut through the murk (“Vicer Exciser”). Plenty gained with few highlights.

#7. Our Endless War (2014) – Located smack-dab between two other albums stuck in existential crisis, Our Endless War is the pinnacle of the whole cringeworthy “the saw is the law” schtick (sorry Sodom), paired with questionable production choices and simultaneously too much and too little Meshuggah-isms. While tracks like “Let Me Burn” and “Diggs Road” kick some serious ass, the album is doomed by excessive vocal layering and unnecessary songwriting choices. While it benefits most heartily from the three-guitar attack and feels the heftiest of its era, slow bruisers (“The Saw is the Law”) feel stuck in the dense muck and more allegro offerings (“Our Endless War,” “Mono”) can’t seem to keep up.

#6. Mark of the Blade (2016) – It’s not that this one is bad, but it’s often overshadowed by the album that emerged next, as “Bring Me Home” and “Decennium” introduced clean vocals. While retaining the saw imagery and three guitars layered for maximum heft, Mark of the Blade cleans up the obscene murk for a more organic and rhythmic album that is heavy on punishment (“The Void,” “Tremors,”), surprisingly catchy and anthemic in its structure (“Elitist Ones”), and experimental enough for a human touch (“Bring Me Home”). It’s the punchiest of its era, with drummer Ben Harclerode making his last appearance on a Whitechapel album.

#5. Whitechapel (2014) – A landmark album in its own right, this self-titled effort saw Whitechapel cutting the excess from their sound into a lean, mean, killing machine. Groove shining in the spotlight, its starkness allows more freedom, as tracks can delve into more ominous atmospheres and different instrumental tricks (“Make Them Bleed,” “I, Dementia”). However, like any good Whitechapel album, the triple-pronged groove aligns wonderfully with Phil Bozeman’s most menacing performance, descending the tracks into a nadir of darkness and Meshuggah-esque ferity (“Dead Silence,” “Devoid”). A start of a new era.

#4. Kin (2021) – Everything that made The Valley so effective, but with more of the Tennessee flair and a more polished feel. Whitechapel explores the cleanly sung and the wailing guitar solos, enacting a beautiful and yearning feel that doesn’t descend into the bleakness of its predecessor but rather looks upon it as lessons learned. It maintains heaviness even if it is less feral than much of its discography – all for the sake of emotion. With more of Bozeman’s cleans contrasting with that trademark density (“Anticure,” “History is Silent,” “Orphan”), an instrumental and technical theatricality (“Without Us,” “A Bloodsoaked Symphony”), and a slightly Tool-esque edge (“Lost Boy,” “Kin”), it leaves trauma and torture in the rearview.

#3. This is Exile (2008) – As the only album more popular than The Somatic Defilement, it gets extra points for its influence – but the mania at its core has never quite been replicated. While its predecessor had enough chunky breakdowns to kill a grown elephant and This is Exile has its fair share of mindless chug (“Possession,” “Somatically Incorrect”), a palpable groove and wild technicality keeps things both grounded and utterly batshit (“Father of Lies,” “To All That Are Dead”). Yes, the back half finds itself dwelling more in hellish menace than punishment (“Death Becomes Him,” “Messiahbolical”), but for many an introduction to Bozeman’s unmistakable roar and a chaotic technicality that left Suicide Silence in the dust, it was pure deathcore nirvana.

#2. A New Era of Corruption (2010) – While not as popular as This is Exile, A New Era of Corruption is everything its predecessor was and more. Whitechapel amps the dystopian and anti-religious themes with a stunning blend of its early era colossal chunk and a good use of techy leads and dissonant swells, as tracks feel more mature, fleshed out, and purposeful (“Breeding Violence,” “End of Flesh”), the darkness of progress’ terrible cost seeping through (“The Darkest Day of Man,” “Necromechanical”), and a chunky charisma not unlike The Acacia Strain (“Reprogrammed to Hate,” “Murder Sermon”3). A New Era of Corruption was the pinnacle of Whitechapel before its self-titled reinvention.

#1. The Valley (2019) – Bozeman’s cleans in The Valley were a landmark in deathcore’s storied and bloody history, but more impressive is that Whitechapel remained remarkably deathcore – if not more devastating – in spite of them. Cutthroat brutality remained first and foremost, with shredding guitars filling every emotional crevasse (“Forgiveness is Weakness,” “Brimstone,” “Black Bear”), while clean vocals are used as moments of yearning vulnerability and hopelessness (“When a Demon Defiles a Witch,” “Hickory Creek,” “Third Depth”) and apathetic sprawls of godless wilderness reflect an existential emptiness (“We Are One,” “Doom Woods”). It’s an unflinching discussion of pain and trauma in the derelict corners of Tennessee and a vintage horror movie aesthetic that meshes surprisingly perfectly. The Valley is a balancing act of vicious and heartfelt, a monument for deathcore and -core styles in general, seeing Whitechapel’s longevity fully established. Every emotion on the spectrum is present on The Valley, an outstretched hand shrouded by the weight of doom and dread.

Alekhines Gun

For many, deathcore represents the gateway drug to heavy music, enjoyed in your youth before you mature into “real metal” proper, discarding breakdowns and angsty lyrics for reflections on the time signatures of the universe and bigger song structures. Not so, say Whitechapel. Since erupting from the ether in 2006 and dropping their first album a mere year later, this band has remained a fixture in the metal world at large, ever growing in popularity and under the disapproving eyes of genre purists everywhere. Tours opening for the likes of Cannibal Corpse and The Black Dahlia Murder while having such luminaries as Cattle Decapitation and Archspire opening for them have established them as breakdown-heaving mainstays in a world of vests and guitar solos. To celebrate their newest release, we have opted to don our Wvmps and Pvsers hats and rank their discog for your disapproval. You gosh darn elitist ones…

#8. Our Endless War – The last descent into full-on arena-bent mindless groove, Our Endless War finds Whitechapel spinning their wheels with gleeful abandon. Any sense of techy approaches or interesting guitar was stripped down, in favor of a continued distillation of simplistic grooves over Meshuggah-In-Denial tones. Buoyed by the smash hit “The Saw is The Law” – essentially the “Living on a Prayer” of deathcore – Our Endless War is bland, inoffensive, and an easy choice for the bottom of the list. It’s catchy enough – a smooth, sanded-down object of easy grooves and basic-tier breakdowns with Bozeman’s vocals drowning out the riffs as if to hide how boring they are. Tailormade for an alternate universe where heavy music is played in elevators, Our Endless War is bland, easily digestible comfort food.

#7. Mark of the Blade – Still overly polished, still easy-listening, Mark of the Blade at least flows better as an entire album rather than merely being a factory-assembled collection of grooves. Here, the first merciful signs of restlessness in the Whitechapel camp began to be felt. “Dwell in the Shadows” and “Brotherhood” broke out some swell guitar playing, which was almost entirely lacking in Our Endless War, while “Bring Me Home” finally debuted those Heckin’GoshDarn clean vocals and much more dynamic songwriting. It helps that they managed to write a second “The Saw is The Law” in “The Mark of the Blade” to keep their ability for instant catchiness on display. All in all, Mark of the Blade manages to be slightly more interesting than its predecessor, as well as be the bookend of one era for Whitechapel while ushering in the next.

#6. The Somatic Defilement – This is a fun debut ruined by some moderately whack production. Much deathcore at the time had a strange predilection for light switch-click sounding drums and guitar tones thick as plywood, and just as crunchy. The Somatic Defilement overcomes this on the strength of its songwriting. Already avoiding the dubstep style tension-build-and-release permeating breakdowns, Whitechapel emerged from the nothingness fully formed and with a set musical vision. Its youthfulness overcomes its tonal flaws, and its roughhewn edges stand as a stark contrast to what would come later.

#5. The Valley – The first major shift in the Whitechapel sound since their self-titled, The Valley sees the band putting on the closest thing they had to prog boots. Featuring oodles and stroodles of emotive (though unfairly derided as emo) clean singing, acoustic passages and honest-to-goodness ballads, the band attempt to take the listener on a musical journey rather than merely offer up a collection of violent snippets. Songs like “Third Depth” tries to mesh the disparaging sounds with mixed results, while bouncing between tracks like “Forgiveness is Weakness” and “Hickory Creek” keep the listener in a state of tonal whiplash. Not quite as consistent as what would come later, The Valley is still an interesting addition to the Whitechapel canon for its efforts, if not quite its delivery.

#4. Whitechapel – On the heels of a pair of monster successes, the self-titled dropped and announced an immediate bid for stardom. Gone were much of the techy nuances and songwriting that actually used three guitar players, opting instead for immediate savagery and accessibility. On the other hand, this newfound sense of immediacy allowed for an excellent sense of hooks, with their old flair boiled down to moments littering songs. Bouncy leads in “Section 8” and harmonized breakdowns in “Dead Silence” showed the band hadn’t forgotten to imbibe songs with flourish and flavor, a skill that would quickly fade out as they continued their ascent to bigger and basic things. Easily the best of the middle era of albums.

#3. This is Exile – The Certified Hood Classic, this album dropped and almost instantly defined what deathcore was supposed to be. A massive sounding album in both writing and by production values of the time, This Is Exile demonstrated fantastic growth in musical writing chops and performances. Solos rip and shred, breakdowns are creatively inserted and (mostly) avoid walk-in-place stereotypes, and each song comes with personality and pizzazz. Touring it for an anniversary with The Black Dahlia Murder showed that the compositions still hit just as hard today, reminding that deathcore as a genre can be intelligent and engaging.

#2. Kin – A fantastic sequel, Kin grasps the mood swung for by The Valley and usurps it in every way. “To the Wolves” assault with peak modern era violence, while the flow into softer moments and use of cleans are much more organically blended. Higher use of melodic leads and atmospheric layering’s allowed the beauty to shine with the brutality, and the closing title tracks fantastic power ballad transition into synth-laden classic rock styled soloing represents everything The Valley wanted to be. Much more enjoyable as a full body of music rather than a collection of tracks, Kin sees Whitechapel grasping their musical vision in the fullest sense, with an excellent display of vulnerability and pathos littered among trademark forehead-shattering groove.

#1. A New Era of Corruption – Criminally overlooked by fans, criminally neglected in setlist selections, A New Era of Corruption is one of the greatest records in the genre. Taking every skillset from This Is Exile and cranking it up to eleven, this album finds Whitechapel operating at a peak they have yet to return to since. All three guitarists are on full display in the compositions; the breakdowns hit harder, the leads are techier, and the production actually sounds like a full band. Flirting with borderline Nile atmospherics in “Breeding Violence” and full on cinematic flirtations in “Unnerving”, 2010 saw Whitechapel at the peak of their powers, experimenting and tinkering and constantly challenging themselves to write better, bigger, and meaner. A genuine benchmark for the sound of deathcore, listeners can only hope for an eventual return to this ruthless display of excellent musicianship marred with ear-gauge shattering blunt force trauma. If you haven’t listened to this album in a while, you owe it to yourself to give it a spin.

Iceberg

I’m a core kid at heart; it was one of my gateway drugs into metal. While Whitechapel lived on the periphery of my metal consumption for my formative years, the combination of 2019’s The Valley and the pandemic gave me the drive and time to dig into their entire catalogue. Since then I’ve always had a soft spot for the Knoxville sextet, and deathcore in general. There’s something about knuckle-dragging breakdowns, whiplash tempo shifts, and gurgly vocals that lights a fire in my icy core. And as one of AMG‘s official deathcore apologists, I jumped – nay, catapulted myself – at the opportunity to ride Hollow‘s rickety train to breakdown town.

#8. Mark of the Blade (2016) – Mark of the Blade marks the end of Whitechapel’s more-metal-than-deathcore era, and showcases a band running low on creative fuel. What’s put on record is the most radio-ready, sanitized version of Whitechapel, and time hasn’t been too gentle with her caresses. The proximity to Slipknot-esque nu-metal is at its most blatant, the breakdowns are toothless, and the songwriting feels like the band is spinning their saws for the third album in a row. Phil’s cleans make their first appearance in “Bring Me Home” and “Decennium,” and while they’re a harbinger of things to come, they feel sorely out of place here and don’t do much to right the ship.

#7. Our Endless War (2014) – Smack in the middle of the band’s metalcore period, OEW doesn’t feel as phoned in as Mark of the Blade, but loses some of the snarling intensity of the self-titled release. Saws are beginning to spin. Anthemic choruses are beginning to rely on the tired trope of repeating the song’s title. Breakdowns feel more at home at Knotfest than Summer Slaughter. The album has its moments, though; “Worship the Digital Age” is a bit on-the-nose but an earworm, and “Diggs Road” is a strong closer that presents one of the album’s best melodic material in its fist-raising chorus. But against what has been, and what’s to come, Our Endless War fades into the background.

#6. The Somatic Defilement (2007) – Grimy, grindy, blood-soaked, and slammy, Whitechapel’s debut showcases all the hallmarks of turn-of-the-century deathcore with the production of a greenhorn band (especially those drums). But the hunger of a young band is real; the bpm is redlined, the breakdowns are ignorant and prolific, and Phil’s vocals are at their most porcine and guttural. Tracks like “Prostatic Fluid Asphyxiation” and “Vicer Exciser” still hang with the best of them in terms of sheer stankface headbangability. While it lacks in the way of diversity, The Somatic Defilement’s charm has aged like fine hobo wine, and it steadily climbed this list the more I revisited it. In some ways this is Whitechapel at their most genuine.

#5. Whitechapel (2012) – Arguably the most transitional of all Whitechapel albums, the self-titled release sees the band with one foot in ragged deathcore roots and another in the sleek, modern production of metalcore. Tracks like “Hate Creation,” “Section 8,” and “Possibilities of an Impossible Existence” still snap necks and crush spines, but there are changes bubbling beneath. There are more breaks from the onslaught; a piano introduction here, washy acoustic guitar there, tempos dipping below breakneck speed. Overall, Whitechapel ends up being workmanlike, middle-aged deathcore, selling you exactly what it advertises.

#4. Kin (2021) – If it ain’t broke, why fix it? Whitechapel smartly took The Valley’s formula and ran with it, crafting a sequel that seamlessly moves from it’s predecessor (from a lyrical perspective – literally), while doing their best to improve on an already formidable blueprint. While Phil’s clean vocals have never sounded better, they can be too much of a good thing, with parts of the album sagging under the weight of these relaxed vocal passages (“Anticure,” “Orphan”). The bookend tracks are deserving of all-time playlist status, as is mid-album burner “To The Wolves,” but there’s a whiff of filler and a lack of brutality on Kin that keeps it from the lofty highs of The Valley. A fitting closer to a sordid tale but a solid middleweight in the band’s discography.

#3. This Is Exile (2008) – If The Somatic Defilement is the wind-up, This Is Exile is the body blow. Whitechapel burst forth in their second full-length effort – a full-throated refutation of the sophomore slump – as a true blue deathcore outfit in complete possession of their faculties. Solving the production problem of their debut makes This Is Exile a much more satisfactory listenable, and subsequently, this the best example of Whitechapel’s core sound. No envelopes are being pushed here, but the package is stuffed to the brim with quality. The one-two punch of “Father of Exile” and “This Is Exile” chug and blast their way through your brain stem, right up until they wrap their wretched mitts around your throat for the ubiquitous–if not a bit overdone here–breakdown. While “Possession” foreshadows the band’s metalcore meanderings to come, this album is so firmly cemented in early aught’s deathcore that it’s impossible to classify as anything else.

#2. A New Era of Corruption (2010) – If This Is Exile is the body blow, then A New Era of Corruption is the haymaker. ANEoC takes the deathcore template perfected on This Is Exile and pushes its brutality to new limits. The end result is an embarrassment of riches for fans of the heyday of deathcore that wields rather than relies on the breakdown. “End of Flesh” might be one of my all-time favorite Whitechapel tunes, perfectly reining in the feral instincts of earlier records while retaining their ferocity inside a clear song structure. The dissolution of the final breakdown into a distant snare drum shows an attention to detail as of yet unseen in the band’s discography. With very little fat to trim, and a tight production job that stops just short of the dreaded sheen (see the self-titled album), ANEoC is the most musically mature record Whitechapel ever put out. That is, until…

#1. The Valley (2019) – I’m not sure anyone really saw The Valley coming. Whitechapel must have, because they clearly gave shit a good shake up. Deathcore purists should stop reading here; I decree this album as nothing short of a revelation. From the dusty acoustic guitars ushering the album in and out to the much-improved clean vocals and storytelling, Whitechapel bolstered nearly every aspect of their sound. Smartly returning to his concept album roots, Phil’s deeply personal and tragic story of family gone wrong breathes new life into Whitechapel’s modus operandi and cleverly shows just how far the band has come from their razorwire days. I reserve special praise for session drummer extraordinaire Navene Koperweis, who takes an already impressive history of Whitechapel drumming and enhances it with unique, progressive instincts. The album rides the sweet spot between tension and release, with just enough old school piss ‘n vinegar marching alongside the more contemplative, wizened moments (something Kin failed to achieve). The Valley is a stunning opus from a band newly emerged from their chrysalis, a dark and wounded creature that’s transcended the deathcore label and become something wholly different.

AMG’s Official Ranking:

Possible points: 24

#8. Our Endless War (2014) 5 points

#7. The Somatic Defilement (2007) 6 points

#6. Mark of the Blade (2016) 7 points

#5. Whitechapel (2012) 13 points

#4. Kin (2021) 17 points

#3. This is Exile (2008) 18 points

#2. The Valley (2019) 20 points

#1. A New Era of Corruption (2010) 22 points

Wanna feel like a scene kid again? Check out our expert picks for your own personal sellout:

Lizzard – Mesh Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Back when 2020 was turning the page to hopefully a better year, I caught a podcast of a little-spread act, Lizzard, and their freshly forthcoming album Eroded. They chatted with a nervous excitement about their fairly organic and elegant approach to producing a lush and layered form of prog-minded sounds influenced by memories of 90s radio rock. Memory can be fickle. I have plenty of memories of alternative radio from that time and the early 00s, most not particularly fond. If you wander through a neighborhood grocery store you can still relive these recordings, a gentle drop of an infectious yet placid Train chorus or forlorn, funky croon of Incubus or Radiohead. And though the predictable structure of this music—that is Mesh or some of its distant inspirations—may not seem readily appealing, the precise twists of tone or delicate experimentations that these aged tunes possess hold a certain charm that can often be missing in the resonance of today’s rock music scene.

That’s not to say that Lizzard shares nothing in common with the sounds of modern progressive acts. The material off prior releases 2014’s Majestic or 2018’s Shift reveal the same kind of Tool-ish syncopations and gazey, post-leaning Deftones grooves that smatter about contemporaries like Wheel or Hippotraktor. But Lizzard arrives loaded instead with warm, vibrant guitar tones; well-framed, shifting rhythms; and crushing, sing-song bass rattling that comes together against hypnotizing and emotive refrains. Despite pushing an audible gloom, guitarist and vocalist Mathieu Ricou doesn’t possess a powerhouse sadboi voice,1 falling into the Jonas Renkse (Katatonia) school of growth by iterative force, pushing the bounds of a crinkling pathos against glistening and glowing melodies (“Home Seek,” “Minim,” “The Beholder”). Mesh wears in plain sight the cracked color vocal palette of its inspirations—the fragile skip of Thom Yorke (Radiohead), the fluttering falsetto of Ian Kenny (Karnivool, Birds of Tokyo). Though, importantly, with that same lyrical atmosphere Lizzard rides the waves of their reverberating melancholy to brighter pastures with practiced aplomb (“Elevate,” “Home Seek,” “The Beholder”).

The captivating strength of Lizzard’s lead drives gives Mesh the power to hook no matter the manner of attack. Whether amp-blowing riff (“Unity”), nasally bass warble (“New Page,” “Home Seek”), or united rocking thrust (“Black Sheep”), each successive passage builds in subtle ways on the last. It’s simple—Lizzard wears the verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus tried and trusted pattern well. This adherence to The Beatles method of elegant accentuations within the box of the AABA allows Ricou to step back and use looped or steady patterns to let Will Knox’s wide bass slips and slides be a voice that flitters about in near harmony to Ricou’s poetic recitals (“New Page,” “Mad Hatters”). And elsewhere, Knox and drummer Katy Elwell maintain a thundering pulse to allow Ricou’s tension-loaded scale explorations evolve into post-rock-inspired bright chord crescendos, with “The Unseen” even featuring a gaze-drenched-yet-snappy solo.

The consistency that runs through Mesh allows each song’s peaks and flairs to weave the experience into a cohesive whole. At first blush, it’s easy to parse Mesh as a collection of great songs. But in the presence of its individually structure nature, the cyclical flow of bursting intro to playful melodies to sweeping codas spills over into the atmosphere between each number. Hard-hitting, riff-loaded jams have full-brake resolutions (“Unity,” “Black Sheep,” “The Unseen”). Other songs that steer with crystalline arpeggio hooks and cymbal-splashed ceilings segue with a shimmered reverb harmonic that maintains the somber mood. And the closing trio functions as one extended thought, with “The Beholder” intentionally starting with hard-panned bass and guitar to mimic the division of it all until the first chorus unites the duo.

Predicting that which will deeply resonate within our listening hearts stands as an effort futile, misguided by the things we want rather than need. I never could have predicted that 2021 would deliver me Lizzard’s Eroded, a modern classic in my head canon. And though Lizzard’s back catalog remains loaded with smart tune after smart tune, Mesh still had no guarantee of landing as a success. Mesh is not the definitive and downcast cry that drilled Eroded deep into my listening heart. But it is steady, lush, and hopeful. Mesh is not an album that revels in virtuosic spectacle or deeply layered narrative. But it is so finely woven in execution—exacting and exuberant—that Mesh too has embedded itself as necessary progressive listening.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 72 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pelagic Records | Bandcamp
Websites: lizzardband.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/lizzardmusic
Releases Worldwide: September 27th, 2024

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