Messa – The Spin Review

By Carcharodon

We all slow down in our old age. Our own Steel Druhm is no exception. As he closes in on his third millennium, he finds himself overwhelmed more and more often.1 And so verily it came to pass that, to help out our tiring patriarch, Dolph and I agreed to double team his beloved Italian psych-doom weirdos, Messa.2 To be fair, this is no hardship. All three of Messa’s albums to date have been absolutely killer, from the drone-doom of debut Belfry (2016), through personal fav, the post-bluesy Feast for Water (2018) to progressive opus Close (2022). To say the band is enigmatic would be something of an understatement. The quartet, which has held together without any line-up changes for over a decade, seamlessly knit together a dizzying array of styles, modulating the focus on each release. Where will the dial land on fourth outing, The Spin?

If you’re looking to place The Spin in Messa’s discography, it’s probably closest in tone to Feast for Water. However, it’s a smoother experience. Rather like using a velvetiser to make your hot chocolate. It’s still hot chocolate. But it’s thicker, richer, and, well, velvet-ier. The Spin has been velvetised in two key ways. First, Sara’s smouldering, siren-like vocals have hit a whole new level, with the power on her sustains (“Fire on the Roof” and “Void Meridian,” in particular) imbuing The Spin with such a sense of power. Secondly, guitarist Alberto has leant harder into the progressive doom of Vanishing Kids, paired with the languid blues of his solo debut (Little Albert’s Swamp King), all buried in a guitar tone that Pink Floyd would be delighted by (“Reveal” and the gorgeous back end of “Immolation”). Where Feast had a slightly roughened, old-school Trouble or Pentagram edge to its haunting, crooning vibe, Messa are now operating in bigger, more expansive—and, frankly, more expensive-sounding—territories, recalling the likes of recent Green Lung (“At Races”) and Beth Hart (“Fire on the Roof” and “Immolation”).

And yet, Messa are still unmistakably Messa. From the yawing electronica that opens The Spin on “Void Meridian,” through The Gathering-meets-psychedelic-lounge-jazz of “The Dress” to the oppressive, brooding heaviness of closer “Thicker Blood,” the constantly shifting sonic palette draws on soundscapes that are familiar from each record in the band’s back catalogue. At the same time, The Spin is more anthemic than previous albums, with almost-nailed-on song o’ the year “Fire on the Roof” leading the way, its huge, trad doom chorus a thing of beauty, while the smoky, mesmerising verses find Sara almost chanting. In fact, “Fire…” is the start of a three-track run that, for me, is pretty well the best material Messa has written, as it leads into the fragile keys and bluesy, cathartic build of “Immolation” before “The Dress” hits. It is this that sets The Spin slightly apart from previous Messa albums, which have an organic flow to them, where this latest offering feels slightly more like a collection of songs.

While The Spin does feel less like a single, flowing composition than previous Messa records, it doesn’t lack cohesion, and the massive, standout highs offer plenty of compensation for that slight loss in flow. This may be explained by the fact that, unlike Close, the band chose to record this album separately, across several locations and periods, with (apparently) a lot of rearrangement of the material to get to the finished record. Messa also focused on simplifying and stripping back the song structures, which makes them more digestible. Although there are no weak songs on The Spin, opener “Void Meridian” lacks bite and never quite hits its stride, while penultimate cut “Reveal” feels like it belongs on an earlier Messa album, particularly in its chugging middle passage. I touched above on the beautiful guitar tone that Alberto and Mark Sade have found, so thick and meaty you can practically bite into it. Apparently, the band focused on using as much original 80s equipment as possible, which could have something to do with it.

At this point, it’s becoming apparent that Messa basically can’t miss. Whatever they turn their hand to, they manage to retain their identity, while writing diverse, interesting and, most importantly, absolutely banging albums. The Spin is no exception, from the bright, propulsive energy of “At Races” to the stark beauty of “Immolation,” Messa have done it again. At a tight 43 minutes, this album races by and, when it finishes, the only reason I don’t simply start it again is that I usually want to listen to “Fire on the Roof” a couple of times first. Less challenging and more immediate than previous records, but no less beautiful for it, The Spin perhaps shows the influence of bigger label Metal Blade on the band. I hope it earns them some deserved dollar bills.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: messa.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MESSAproject
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

Dolphin Whisperer

My brother-in-law loves metal, and I don’t think he’d be offended if I were also to say that he’s not particularly invested in finding new metal to listen to in the modern scene. However, on one ride in the car, I had Messa’s 2022 opus Close on at a moderate volume, prompting him to investigate what exactly was enchanting his ears. After that outing, he and my sister returned to their home, another five-plus hour drive, and she sent me a text saying that they binged Messa’s discog a couple times on the way back; he was in love. You see, despite the quirks that give Messa their mystical air, the crafty Italians possess the secret to all great rock music: volume-scaling power, a unique and soaring vocal presence, and big, fat hooks. The Spin, of course, is no exception.

In that regard, Messa follows their own lineage by never delivering the same album twice. The journey from post/drone atmospherics of Belfry to the heavier occult/doom worn Feast for Water to the MENA jazz-loaded snake charming Close, each entry in their catalog serves as an ode to their inherent tendency to experiment while holding true to a base of doom weight and rock attitude. Vocalist Sara Bianchin has transformed alongside Messa’s journey too, with her earliest performances reflecting the youth of her experience in rawer mic reflections. But The Spin leans on sounds from the ’80s, and, in turn, Bianchin’s now studied attack runs recklessly through swirling and swelling layers of echo and shrill serenade. Elsewhere, chorus pedal abuse, gothy reverb, and low-end synth propulsions mark The Spin’s throwback dance in the Messa stride—Disintegration-echoing bass leads (“Void Meridian,” “At Races”) crashing against Tears for Fears brooding throbs (“The Dress,” “Thicker Blood”) running through call-and-response guitar lead explosions (every. song.). It’s easy to fall prey to the sense of nostalgia that such sounds stimulate.

However, in a sense of reverence for the past, not just a wistful longing, The Spin weaves its own home in familiar textures. Messa finds a comfort in dreamy textures indebted to foundational post-punk works—those of The Sound or Joy Division—while still injecting a metallic edge of heavyweight chord drives and aggressive rhythms (“Fire on the Roof,” “Thicker Blood”). Doom anchors the drama, as always, in slow builds and syllable stretches that crawl and lurch against Messa’s chosen palette of Roland-modulated simmers and proto-shoegaze dissonance (“Void Meridian,” “The Dress”). And, of course, Messa lives life in the fast lane switching and melding identities on a dime, with late album cut “Reveal” pairing a heavy blues twang, frantic bursts of blast beats, and Bianchin’s wailing narrative for an anachronistic detour that both upends and upholds The Spin’s playful historical lens.

As Messa’s shortest album to date, The Spin’s seven cuts go down smooth but lacking in the kind of wholeness that other works have held. On one hand, it’s easy to work in The Spin to whatever length of time allows—a quick hit or two of your favorites as you dress for the day ahead, a longer commute as the sun moves from straight in the eyes to waving from the side, a jog around the neighborhood with canine companions. Movement, or rather transience, sits at the core of Messa’s themes here after all: the chase for meaning in a strained world (“Void Meridian”), the weight of choice that can’t decide a push or pull (“Immolation”), and accepting what lurks around the corner (“Thicker Blood”). And so The Spin demands more as an encapsulation of wandering, but it’s a human quest that’s easy to indulge as you see fit.

Neither a slow-burn nor a peel out, The Spin saunters at a breathing, bustling pace that manages to hustle ahead of a growing movement gazey and hazey doom wielders. I, too find solace in genre cousins like the jazzy and equally textured Moths or the pleading missions of Slumbering Sun, but Messa continues to find ways to wield weaponized guitar heroism, fat-bottomed tones, and sultry synthesis in a way that feels true to their growing discography while reaching to new fans and new sounds. Music this powerful stands ready to inspire binge listening, tone envy, and, with any luck, another generation hopelessly addicted to six strings screaming at unadvisable volumes.

Rating: 4.0/5.0

#2025 #40 #Apr25 #BethHart #Blues #DoomJazz #DoomMetal #Eagles #GothicRock #GreenLung #HeavyMetal #ItalianMetal #JoyDivision #LittleAlbert #Messa #MetalBladeRecords #Pentagram #PinkFloyd #postPunk #PsychedelicRock #Review #Reviews #TearsForFears #TheCure #TheGathering #TheSound #TheSpin #Trouble #VanishingKids

Crawling Chaos – Wyrd Review

By Twelve

Even before I’d seen the gorgeous cover art over there, Crawling Chaos had me marked. The Italian group’s third full-length release, Wyrd, is written around a theme that discusses prominent women in European folklore, mythologies, and history, and is “full of literary quotes and easter eggs, offering subtle nods to the most curious among the listeners.” Honestly, I was sold before I even noted the genre tag, but death metal and I are no strangers to one another either. So at first glance, Wyrd seems like my perfect match, but I’ve been writing here for years now, and I’ve been misled by cover art and thematic promise before. How will this one hold up?

What’s interesting about Wyrd is that a more apt description of the music is melodic death metal, but the phrase works better as a literal description than a genre tag. Wyrd is a death metal album that has melody, but doesn’t quite match what you could call “melodeath.” It is a heavy album, with no noticeable use of keys and uncompromising death metal overtures, similar to how Crescent approach their music. Guitarists Andrea Velli and Manuel Guerrieri put in some serious work here, swapping brilliantly between a veritable storm of riffs in songs like “Witch-Hunt” and eerie ambience in ones like “Necromancer.” Mind, don’t let that distinction fool you—death metal is absolutely the focus here, as Guerrieri’s roars and Edoardo Velli’s manic drumming make clear. Across Wyrd’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, Crawling Chaos make the most of their thematic source material by launching an all-out assault on the listener in a comparatively pleasing way, with nods to groups like Death, Gojira, and Nile apparent throughout.

Most of the hallmarks of death metal are present for Wyrd, but it’s the moments of melody that really give Crawling Chaos a distinct identity. William Leardini’s bass is wonderful in its griminess, and most songs are concise, speedy, and brutal, but the apparent care for memorability goes a long way too. “Veiled in Secrets” is the clearest example, a mid-paced (this is a relative descriptor) song with a beautiful, almost haunting melody that rings throughout, evocative of the desert the song describes. Similarly, the guitar leads in “To the Furies” are mighty, blending skill and style in a way that makes the song into a journey, exciting and memorable at once. Wyrd is an album of two worlds, firmly rooted in its thematic and stylistic choices, giving it the feel of a complete album, and a well-thought-out one.

I enjoy the melodic moments much more than the more brutal ones on Wyrd, which does make it feel like something of a lopsided listen at times. As I’ve said, crawling chaos can do wonders for both sides of the descriptor. Some songs lean heavier on melody and others heavier on heaviness, and that’s fine. Still, when a song like “Nomen Omen” opens with a slow, haunting melody, with genuine build-up, and then erupts into the same style of death metal that’s been so persistent across Wyrd, it feels almost like a let-down (despite, in this instance, a genuinely stunning vocal performance from Guerrieri). “Nails of Fate” does something similar with an acoustic guitar—a stirring intro that is never realized in the way you expect it to, despite the song itself being very strong. For me, the way Wyrd is structured creates a noticeable rift between the melodic and heavier choices in each song, making the full listen less cohesive than it might have otherwise been.

Wyrd is a fun listen regardless of how you like your death metal, because it is well-written, well-performed, and hits hard. Still, writing the above makes me wonder if I’m not quite the right audience for Crawling Chaos, if only because I have this bias for the melodic side of melodic death metal. And yet, I have to recommend it, which means you may like it a good deal more than I have. And I have enjoyed it—it’s heavy, it sounds great, and it includes literary and historic references. Realistically, I was always going to enjoy this one.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Time to Kill Records
Websites: crawlingchaos-ttk.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/crawlingchaosit
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CrawlingChaos #Crescent #Death #DeathMetal #Gojira #ItalianMetal #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Nile #Review #Reviews #TimeToKillRecords #Wyrd

Sadist – Something to Pierce Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Through Sadist’s classic run, from 1993’s Above the Light to 1997’s Crust, the imitable Italians carved a path around emergent death-thrash, progressive death, and groove sounds with a synth-laden and horror-guided flair as pillars of their heritage. And though their hiatus to reunion with 2007’s self-titled comeback burst forth with an aggressive energy that encapsulated their extreme and unique breed of work, the path afterward has remained fairly rocky. The freedom to be Sadist in all their never-replicated Goblin keys meets Pestilence riffs with a B-movie attitude has resulted in some excursions that felt more style than substance. In that sense, with 2022’s Firescorched, the embrace of techy fusion wrapped tightly around a carnival core fueled the promise of a fresh and focused Sadist. Can Something to Pierce, then, continue this late-career stab at glory?

For the second album in a row, Sadist has leaned on outside talents for their rhythmic core, this time absorbing the bass-drum duo of Italian progsters Fate Unburied, who have also acted as the band’s live setup.1 And in grooving lockstep, the duo rumbles about with a throbbing double-time and blasting fervor between founding guitarist and keys maestro Tommy Talamanca at his most garish and ripping. Early tracks like the breathy and bouncy “Deprived” and “Kill Devour Dissect” find that has rooted the Sadist sound in the campy world of blood splattered jungles and terror-drenched cistern ruins since 1995’s Tribe. In vocalist Trevor Nadir’s ripping howls and raspy cries, you can almost smell the rising of the undead against Talamanca’s Fulci-tinged, surrealistic compositions.

Alas, there’s not much plot to bind the horror-tinged persona that Something to Pierce wears as brazenly as it does deep death metal grooves. But that groove—that groove is, of course, persistent and slinky in a way that has always fused Talamanca’s knotted, progressive riffs and jazzy, heroic solos with an unbreakable flair. In that sense, though, Something to Pierce strikes in a uniform manner—a collection of songs that alternates between sliding riff intros and sparkling synth motifs that both bubble and bustle to gruesome and thrashing crescendos. As such, it’s the iterative nuance that colors Sadist’s stride—the swelling bass grunt of “Something to Pierce,” the snare roll to stomp of “The Sun God,” the escalating vocal grunt choir of “The Best Part Is the Brain”—and sells some memorability into the experience.

Yet, memorable or otherwise, no one has quite the attack that Sadist does, even at their most comfortable. Though veteran fans may feel at home in the swirling twists of cinematic, MENA-laced melodies, creeping ambience, and virtuosic guitar fills that lace Talamanca’s playing, newcomers may find a novel solace in the eclectic atmosphere that Something to Pierce conjures. The front half, in particular, plays more directly in its progressive death onslaught, serving jagged riff tumbles and stronger chorus structures that recapitulate in “One Shot Closer” before Sadist launches into a fuller, snake-charming glory. And, in turn, ending on the credits roll of “Respirium,” an instrumental with little ties to the aggression that pervades all that preceded it, requires full acceptance of the quirky world that Sadist builds—the one-two wobble-toned escapade of “The Best Part…” and “Nove Strade” makes it a little easier. After all, it’s only in this world that this bleep and swoon, desert scene patches, and bongo prancing make any sense.

That Sadist continues to walk undeterred along their own path now thirty-four years into existence is nothing short of a macabre miracle. Owing, in part, a peerish thanks to progenitors like Nocturnus and Atheist, the Genoese delicacy that Sadist presents has blossomed and rotted and reformed recognizable and largely uncontested. Why, in the annals of Angry Metal Guy, the Sadist tag itself directs in style only to more Sadist. So, Something to Pierce may not represent a bold new take on that lineage, neither as technical or raging or whimsical as past peaks. But Sadist, in a practiced and powerful groove, remains as dedicated and energetic as ever to their progressive and deathly craft, with ears virgin to their dastardly wiles hopefully finding something to throw them deep down a Sadist hole.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Agonia Records | Bandcamp
Websites: sadist.it | facebook.com/sadstofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AgoniaRecords #DeathMetal #Goblin #ItalianMetal #Mar25 #Nocturnus #Pestilence #ProgressiveDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #Sadist #SomethingToPierce

Lacuna Coil – Sleepless Empire Review

By Kenstrosity

Italian gothic metal/groove/hard rock outfit Lacuna Coil occupy a special place in my metallic upbringing. Comalies, the band’s third album—and their breakout release—was the very first CD I bought with my own money. It remains a staple in my rotation to this day, thanks to hypnotic blends of dour atmosphere and poppy hooks sharp enough to pierce the gray matter permanently. This disparate combination is what put Lacuna Coil on the map as a common gateway for new metal fans. It also serves as a nostalgic portal for established metalheads like myself, who to this day kneel in reverence at the altar of those groups who lowered us, ever so lovingly, into the hellish arms of the underground and the extreme.

Lacuna Coil’s history, unlike some other bands of significance, is fraught with inconsistency packaged into three distinct eras. The first, a moody, doom-laden run that introduced the group to the world, culminating in the legendary Comalies. With Karmacode, Lacuna Coil modernized their approach, pulling inspiration from trendy metal tropes of the mid-2000s mainstream and dispensed with their half-doom half-goth personality (check the Korn-y bass tone on Karmacode and the hard rock attitude of Dark Adrenaline). This persisted for the next eight years, all the way through the darker, but shaky misfire Broken Crown Halo. A resurgence and return to form shortly thereafter manifested Lacuna Coil’s current shape on Delirium. Fresh and energetic, Lacuna Coil’s latest sound maximized its impact with the awesome Black Anima, striking a compelling balance between the groove-laden swagger of their mid-period and the genuine gothic heft of their origins. Earnest beyond expectation, Black Anima set a new standard for Lacuna Coil and deeply informs their upcoming tenth1 record, Sleepless Empire.

Throughout all of this tumultuous history, the shining beacon leading the way to success was Cristina Scabbia and her venomous, unmistakable siren song. Hemorrhaging power and charisma, Scabbia elevates everything, and that remains true here. To listen to the anomalous “I Wish You Were Dead” threatens to derail the entire experience, as the song itself recalls the bulk of their largely unloved (outside of the mainstream) radio-rock mid-period—but Scabbia’s spine-twisting snarl inevitably twists my conflicted mind towards the positive. Elsewhere, stronger cuts “Oxygen,” “Scarecrow,” “Sleepless Empire,” and “Sleep Paralysis” more faithfully reproduce the fiery swing and sticky pull of Delirium’s and Black Anima’s material, once again showcasing Scabbia’s brilliant placement and diverse range. These cuts make great use of Andrea Ferro’s vicious screams, highly reminiscent of Lamb of God‘s Randy Blythe (who himself features on the decent, but not quite excellent, “Hosting the Shadow”), as well. In fact, Ferro—for perhaps the first time in the band’s history—acquits himself with aplomb on Sleepless Empire. By completely abandoning his much-maligned rough-hewn cleans in favor of an extra heavy dose of throat-shredding roars, Ferro finally answers a decades-long call for a necessary shift even die-hard Lacuna Coil fans demanded. To see it finally executed instills a blazing fire of vindication and a soothing wave of relief.

Meanwhile, longtime keyboardist Marco Coti Zelati takes over for Diego “DD” Cavallotti on guitars on top of his synth duties, resulting in a bit of a mixed bag on the instrumental front. “DD” earned his stripes by injecting Lacuna Coil’s Black Anima material with everything it needed to resonate with skeptics and fans alike, who both longed for more impactful guitar work from these Italians (see “Reckless,” “Veneficium,” and “Under the Surface”). Zelati does everything in his talented fingers to recreate the same results in his voice but falls short. Many of Sleepless Empire’s riffs and motifs lack punch (“In Nomine Patris”), engage in stale, chugging repetition (“The Siege,” “Sleepless Empire,” “Never Dawn”), or pull too heavily from Lacuna Coil’s past without doing enough to train them up for duty today (“Gravity,” “In the Mean Time”). Thankfully, the rhythm section makes up some of the slack, with former Genus Ordinis Dei drummer Richard Meiz taking the skins in his confident hands just as he did on Black Anima. As a final note, Sleepless Empire’s production is a notable step down. Inexplicably muddy and loud at the same time, it crushes everything to paper-thin flatness, save for the way-up-front vocals.

At the end of the day, I can’t say I’m disappointed with Sleepless Empire. There was little chance of it eclipsing Lacuna Coil’s landmark records. However, if my instincts are correct about how Lacuna Coil evolves—and I believe that they are—I suspect we’re simply witnessing the dying breaths of their current sound. Unfortunately, Sleepless Empire isn’t the explosive send-off it should’ve been to once more careen Lacuna Coil headfirst into new territory. Yet, I find myself charmed even still, such that I remain fascinated by what their future might hold.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 256 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: lacunacoil.it | facebook.com/lacunacoil
Releases Worldwide: February 14th, 2025

#25 #2025 #CenturyMediaRecords #Feb25 #GenusOrdinisDei #GothicMetal #GrooveMetal #HardRock #ItalianMetal #Korn #LacunaCoil #LambOfGod #Review #Reviews #SleeplessEmpire

Stuck in the Filter: October 2024’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

Never fear, the blog’s penchant for deep lateness punctuality persists! It is likely the new year already by the time you see this post, but we’re taking a step back. Way back, into October. I was deep in the shit then, and therefore couldn’t do anything blog-related. And yet, my minions, those very laborers for whom I provide absolutely no compensation whatsoever, toiled dutifully in the metallic dinge that is our Filter. Unforgiving though those environs undoubtedly are, they scraped and scoured until, at long last, small shards of precious ore glimmered to the surface.

These glimmers are the same which you witness before you. Some are big, some are small. Some are short, some are tall. But all are worthy. Behold!

Kenstrosity’s Belated Bombardments

Cosmic Putrefaction // Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains [October 4th, 2024 – Profound Lore Records]

I was originally slated to take over reviewing duties for Cosmic Putrefaction this year, as Thus Spoke had a prior commitment and needed a buddy to step in. Unfortunately, I was rendered useless by a force of nature for a while, so I had to let go of several items of interest. But I couldn’t let 2024 go by without saying something! Entitled Emeral Fires atop the Farewell Mountains, Cosmic Putrefaction’s fourth represents one of the smoothest, most ethereal interpretations of weird, dissonant death metal. The classic Cosmic Putrefaction riffsets under an auroric sky remain, as evidenced by ripping examples “[Entering the Vortex Temporum] – Pre-mortem Phosphenes” and “Swirling Madness, Supernal Ordeal,” but there lurks within a monstrous technical death metal creature who rabidly chases the atmospheric spirits of olde (“I Should Great the Inexorable Darkness,” “Eudaemonist Withdrawal”). While in lesser hands these distinct aesthetics would undoubtedly clash on a dissonant platform such as this, Cosmic Putrefaction’s particular application of sound and style coalesces in devastating beauty and relentless purpose (“Hallways Engraved in Aether,” “Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains”). Were it not for some instances wherein, for the first time ever, Cosmic Putrefaction threatens to self-plagiarize their own material (“Eudaemonist Withdrawal”), I would likely consider Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains for year-end list status.

Feral // To Usurp the Thrones [October 18th, 2024 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Another one of my charges that I unfortunately had to put down against my will, Swedish death metal fiends Feral’s fourth salvo To Usurp the Thrones deserves a spotlight here. Where Flesh for Funerals Eternal impressed me as my introduction to the band and, arguably, my introduction to modern buzzsaw Swedeath, To Usurp the Thrones impresses me as a singularly vicious record in the style. Faster, meaner, more varied, and longer than its predecessor, Thrones offers the punk-tinged, thrashy death riffs you know and love, with bluesy touches reminiscent of Entombed’s Wolverine Blues adding a bit of drunken swagger to the affair (“Vile Malediction,” “Phantoms of Iniquity,” “Into the Ashes of History”). Absolute rippers like “To Drain the World of Light,” “Deformed Mentality,” “Decimated,” and “Soaked in Blood” live up to the band’s moniker, rabid and relentless in their assault. In many ways, Thrones evokes the same bloodsoaked sense of fun that Helslave’s From the Sulphur Depths conjured, but it’s angrier, more unhinged (“Spirits Without Rest,” “Stripped of Flesh”). Consequently, Thrones stands out as one of the more fun records of its ilk to come out this year. Don’t miss it!

Sun Worship // Upon the Hills of Divination [October 31st, 2024 – Vendetta Records]

Back in 2020, our dear Roquentin offered some damn fine words of praise for Germany’s Sun Worship and their third blackened blade, Emanations of Desolation. It’s been six years since that record dropped, and Upon the Hills of Divination picks up right where Emanations left off. That is to say, absolutely slimy, post-metal-tinged riffs bolstered by dense layers of warm tremolos and mid-frequency roars. Opener “Within the Machine” offers a concrete encapsulation of what to expect: bits and pieces of Hulder, Gaerea, and Vorga melding together into a compelling concoction of hypnotic black metal. Using the long form to their utmost advantage, Sun Worship craft immersive soundscapes liable to scald the flesh just as quickly as they seduce the senses, leaving me as a brainwashed minion doing a twisted mystic’s bidding unconditionally (“Serpent Nebula,” “Covenant”). Yet, there roils a sense of urgency in these songs, despite many of them occupying a mid-paced cadence, which unveils a bleeding heart willingly wrenched from Sun Worship’s body (“Fractal Entity,” the title track, and “Stormbringer”). This is what sets it apart from its contemporaries, and what makes it worthy of mention. Why it’s gotten so little attention escapes me. It is with the intent of rectifying that condition that I pen this woefully insufficient segment.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Duty Free Rifftrocity

Extorted // Cognitive Dissonance [October 16th, 2024 – Self Release]

You don’t need to read this review to know that the Kiwis of Extorted plays pit-whipping death/thrash. Though not adorned with other obvious symbols, like Vietnam War paraphernalia or crushed beer cans, the Ed Repka-penned brain-ripped head figure screams “no thoughts only riff” all the same. With snares set to pow and crashes set to kshhh, Cognitive Dissonance finds low resistance to accelerating early Death-indebted refrains. Vocalist Joel Clark even plays as a dead ringer for pre-Human Schuldiner or Van Drunen (Asphyx, ex-Pestilence) as the torture in many lines grows (on “Infected” and “Ghastly Creatures” in particular). And in a continued tour of Van Drunen-associated sounds, Extorted’s ability to find a push-and-pull cadence that twists the fury of thrash with the cutting drag of death hits that hard-to-nail early Pestilence pocket with studied flair (“Deception,” “Limits of Reality”). Though a considerable amount of the Extorted identity rests in ideas borrowed and reinterpreted, a modern tonal canvas gives Cognitive Dissonance’s rhythms a punchy and balanced low-end weight that doesn’t always present itself in the world of old. Couple that with hooks that reach far beyond the limits of pure homage (“Transformation of Dreams,” “Violence”), and it’s easy to plow through the thirty minutes of tasteful harmonies, bending solos, and spit-stained lamentations that Extorted offers with their powerful debut.

Bríi // Camaradagem Póstuma [October 11th, 2024 – Self Release]

With Camaradagem Póstuma we enter the hazy, folky world of Caio Lemos’ unique vision of what experimental electronic music can be colored by the underpinnings of atmospheric black metal and jazz fusion. Using terraced melodies like baroque music of old and distant breakbeats like the Bong-Ra of recent yesteryears, Brazil’s Bríi represents one man’s highly specific melding that rarely occurs in this space. The guitar lines that do exist play out as textural, slow-developing passages. On tracks “Aparecidos” and “Baile Fantasma” this looping and hypnotic pattern shuffle resembles ambient Pat Metheny or King Crimson colors, the kind where finding the end of nylon pluck into a weaving, high-frequency synth patch feels not impossible but unnecessary. And on the more metallic side of things, Lemos cranks programmed blasts that carry his tortured, panning, and shrouded wails as a guide for the melodic evolution of each track, much in the same way a warping bass line would in a progressive house track. But maintaining the tempo of classic drum and bass, Camaradagem Póstuma wisps away in its atmosphere, coming back to a driving rhythm either via pummeling double kick or glitching break. Despite the hard, danceable pulse that tracks “Enlutados” and “Entre Mundos” boast, Bríi does not feel built for the kvlt klvbs of this world, leaning on a gated, lo-fi aesthetic that makes for an ideal drift away on closed cans, much like the equally idiosyncratic Wist album from earlier this year. And similarly, Camaradagem Póstuma sits in an outsider world of enjoyment. But if any of this sounds like your jam, prepare to get addicted to Bríi.

Thus Spoke’s Rotten Remnants

Livløs // The Crescent King [October 4th, 2024 – Noctum Productions]

Livløs are one of those bands that deserves far more recognition than they receive. With LP three, The Crescent King, they might finally see it. Their punchy intriguing infusion of Swedish and US melodic death metal—though the band themselves hail from Denmark—has a pleasing melancholia and satisfying bite. Here in particular, there’s more than a passing resemblance to Hath, to Cognizance, and to In Mourning. Stomping grooves (“Maelstrom,” “Usurpers”) slide in between blitzes of tripping gallops, and electrifying fretwork (“Orbit Weaver,” “Scourge of the Stars”). Mournful, compelling melodies woven into this technical tapestry—some highlights being the title track, “Harvest,” and “Endless Majesty”—turn already good melodeath into great melodeath; melodeath that’s majestic and powerful, without ever feeling overblown. With its relentless, groovy dynamism, the crisp, spacious production seals the deal for total immersion. If this is your first time hearing about Livløs, you’re in for a treat.

Sordide // Ainsi finit le jour [October 25th, 2024 – Les Acteurs de l’Ombre Productions]

And So Ends the Day, whilst another begins where I rediscover Sordide. I know not how I forgot their existence despite the impression that 2021’s Les Idées Blanches made upon me, yet all I could recall was the disturbingly simple, melty art.1 Ainsi Finit le Jour arrives with a hefty dose (53 minutes no less) of punky, dissonant black metal that’s even rawer and more pissed-off than their usual fare. “Des feux plus forts,” “La poesie du caniveau,” and the title track stand out as the most vicious, near-first-wave cuts the trio have ever laid down, with manic, group wails, and chaotic, jangling percussion. But as is so often the case with Sordide, perhaps the truest brutality comes in the slower discordant crawls of “Sous Vivre,” “Tout est a la mort,” and the particularly unsettling “La beauté du desastre,” whose creeping, half-tuneful teasing and turns to eerie spaciousness get right under your skin. It is arguably a little too long for its own good, given its intensity, but its impressiveness does mean that, this time, Sordide won’t be forgotten.

Dear Hollow’s Droll Hashals

Annihilist // Reform [October 18th, 2024 – Self Release]

What Melbourne’s Annihilist does with flamboyant flare and reckless abandon is blur the lines of its core stylistic choices. One moment it’s chugging away like a deathcore band, the next it’s dripping away with a groove metal swagger, ope, now it’s on its way to Hot Topic. All we know is that all its members attack with a chameleonic intensity and otherworldly technicality that’s hard to pin down. An insane level of technicality is the thread that courses throughout the entirety of this debut, recalling Within the Ruins or The Human Abstract in its stuttering rhythms and flailing arpeggios. From catchy leads and punishing rhythms (“The Upsend,” “Guillotine”), bouncy breakdowns, clean choruses, and wild gang vocals (“Blood”), djenty guitar seizures (“Virus,” “Better Off”) to full-on groove (“N.M.E.,” “The Host”), the likes of Lamb of God, early Architects, Born of Osiris, and Children of Bodom are conjured. Lyrics of hardcore punk’s signature anarchy and societal distrust collide with an instrumental palette of melodeath and the more technical kin of metalcore and deathcore, groove metal, and hardcore. As such, the album is complicated, episodic, and unpredictable, with only its wild technicality connecting its fragmented bits – keeping Reform from achieving the greatness that the band is so capable of. As it stands, though, Annihilist offers an insanely fun, everchanging, and unhinged roller coaster of -core proportions – a roller -corester, if you will.

Under Alekhines Gun

Theurgy // Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence [October 17th, 2024 – New Standard Elite]

In a year where slam and brutal death have already had an atypically high-quality output, international outfit Theurgy have come with an RKO out of nowhere to shatter whatever remains of your cerebral cortex. Channeling the flamboyancy of old Analepsy with the snare abuse and neanderthalic glee of Epicardiectomy, Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence wastes no time severing vertebrae and reducing eardrums to paste. Don’t mistake this for a brainless, caveman assault, however. Peppered between the hammiest of hammers are tech flourishes pulled straight from Dingir era Rings of Saturn, adding an unexpected technical edge to the blunt force trauma. The production manages to pair these two disparaging elements with lethal efficiency. Is it the techiest slam album, or the wettest, greasiest tech album? Did I mention there’s a super moldy cover of Devourment‘s “Molesting the Decapitated”? It slots right into the albums flow without feeling like a tacked-on bonus track, highlighting Theurgy’s commitment to the homicidal odes of brutality. Throw in a vocal performance that makes Angel Ochoa (Abominable Putridity) sound like Anders Fridén (In Flames), and you’re left with one last lethal assault to round out the year. Dive in and give your luminescence something to cry about.

GardensTale’s Great Glacier

Ghosts of Glaciers // Eternal [October 25th, 2024 – Translation Loss Records]

Ghosts of Glaciers’s last release, The Greatest Burden, was a masterclass of post-metal flow and has become a mainstay in my instrumental metal collection since my review in 2019. Dropping in tandem with several other high-profile releases, though, I could not give its follow-up the kind of attention it deserves. And make no mistake, it absolutely deserves that attention. The opening duo, “The Vast Expanse” and “Sunken Chamber,” measure up fully to The Greatest Burden, though it takes a few spins for that to become clear. Both use repetitive patterns more than before, but closer listens reveal how subtle variations and evolution of each cycle build gradual tension, so the release becomes all the more satisfying. I’m a little more ambivalent on the back half of Eternal, though. “Leviathan” packs a bigger punch than more of the band’s material, it lacks the swirling and sweeping currents that pull me under and demand full and uninterrupted plays every time. Closer “Regeneratio Aeterna” is a pretty but rather demure piece that lasts a bit longer than it should have. But despite these reservations, the great material outstrips the merely good, and Eternal is a worthwhile addition to any instrumental metal collection.

Hesperia – Fra li Monti Sibillini Review

By El Cuervo

What could be better than beginning 2025 with black metal? I’ll tell you what could be better. Beginning 2025 with one-man-band black metal indulging in a level of excess that only an Italian taking 76 minutes over 14 tracks could. Seven prior full-length Hesperia releases have somehow flown under the Angry Metal Radar, so now I pay penance for our sin of ignorance. Fra li Monti Sibillini (Among the Sibillini Mountains) is a record centered around the nature and lore of a mountain range in central Italy. With such an overabundance of material on this record and across a discography that’s been largely ignored, this release should be terrible. But is it?

Hesperia brandish a type of black metal that’s fast, heavy, and vibrates with energy. The sharp, sawing riffs recall Immortal while their melodic knack recalls Moonsorrow. But the production has remarkable clarity and eschews the lo-fi aesthetic generally favored in black metal, enabling listeners to pick out all instruments in the mix. Because the guitars are distinct, their riffs and melodies are also distinct and represent some of the stand-out parts of Monti Sibillini. There are a load of highlights. The opening lead on “Il Regno de la Sibilla” has a beefy groove, while the closing lead on “La Fuga/La Salvezza” sounds like an icy howl. Likewise, the first riff on “Mons Daemoniacus: Nero Paese de la Scomunica” cuts like a curiously smart scythe and the passage from 2:15 on “l’Eretico, Il Necromante” swings heavily through a real headbanger. By contrast, the harsh vocals are the muddiest sound in the mix. This balances the clear guitars with something gravelly and wretched. It all fuses into some legitimately powerful black metal.

However, this is but one element of the Monti Sibillini sound and is arguably not the most important. Ambience, acoustic passages, and medieval interludes occupy more than half of the record’s run-time. The last of these blends pastoral soundscapes (animals, villagers, festivals) with folkloric instrumentation (strings, whistles, bells) to flesh out the story and themes. These ‘light’ strands aren’t particularly integrated with the ‘heavy’ strands. Transitions from black metal to folk, or vice versa, aren’t sophisticated and generally occur simply by stopping one and starting the other. Given the evident importance of the soundscapes and atmosphere generation to Hesperia, bridging the contrasting sounds more smoothly is an obvious point for future development. Monti Sibillini isn’t folk metal; it’s folk and metal. I further query the purpose of the four medieval interlude tracks when medieval interludes are built into the main songs anyway. They’re evocative but extraneous, adding ten minutes to an album that’s already over-long.

But the greater weakness on Monti Sibillini is how Hesperia are seemingly incapable of sticking to one idea. “l’Qrrivo a l’Hostaria” forms an early microcosm for the whole album. It doesn’t give you an opportunity to get your teeth into any of the incisive black metal or the moody synths or the medieval curiosities as the songs flips between each multiple times within its five-minute duration. The black metal teases something dark and aggressive but can’t build momentum because it constantly interrupts itself with intriguing but incessant atmospherics and soundscapes. “Il Regno de la Sibilla” is the first of a few long songs and despite its strong constituent elements, I can’t describe it as strong overall because it chops and changes so frequently. This is undoubtedly exacerbated by the blunt transitions documented above. Monti Sibillini makes for a frustrating experience as its music doesn’t feel as subtle or dynamic as it should be.

I sincerely struggled with scoring this review. There’s great quality in Monti Sibillini but it’s buried by annoyingly choppy songwriting. The constituent elements are persistently very good but it’s so fragmented that any enjoyment I glean is fundamentally undermined. It ultimately leaves me asking a question: why couldn’t have Hesperia trusted the listener to not become bored after more than 90 seconds of one sound? Why couldn’t the composite parts be fused together more neatly? Why couldn’t we have more of the black metal? If the band can create an album that doesn’t force me to ask these questions then we could have something great.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hammerheart Records
Website: hesperia.bandcamp.com (managed by Hammerheart Records)
Releases worldwide: January 17th, 2024

#25 #2025 #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BlackMetal #FolkMetal #FraLiMontiSibillini #Hesperia #Immortal #ItalianMetal #Jan25 #Moonsorrow #Review #Reviews

Bedsore – Dreaming the Strife for Love Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Fresh on the heels of other progressive death accolades in the comeback-record-sphere,1 Bedsore has staged a lesser-hyped return of their own. Four years on the books since 2020’s Hypnagogic Hallucinations, about which Ferrous Bueller proclaimed that Bedsore aimed “to be as creative as possible within the band’s preferred scope,” these Italian metal history buffs have returned not simply to their ’90s death metal-inspired roots. Trading logo-adorned garments and pit-tussled hair for amber-tinted shades and pressed, patterned shirts—buttoned enough to allow the tease of a scruffy chest—the Bedsore troupe has turned over not to expose a pustular dorsum but rather an ashen mound of patchouli and burnt flower. Though never absent of psychedelic leanings and progressive tendencies, Bedsore’s prior efforts still appeared death metal first. And now? The hippification is real.

Alas, dreams infect life with ambition. And in Bedsore’s grandest vision yet, they’ve attempted to interpret the classic Italian tale that shares a name, loosely, with this sophomore effort. Given the literary source’s mixed-language origins dating back to the 15th century, Dreaming the Strife for Love requires Bedsore’s new capital “P” prog attitude to even attempt to capture the necessary fantastical grandeur. While Hypnagogic Hallucinations foreshadowed the extended exploration of smoky room jam sessions through twangy amp tones and doom-weighted atmosphere, Dreaming unleashes the full fury of Italian drama through synths, synths, and more synths. Though not quite as horror-toned as their influential countrymen Goblin, the urge to drive with earmarked leads, fluttering segues, and occult camp holds strong in the halls that Bedsore has built with Dreaming.

All these new layers in the Bedsore identity arrive with intention, with unique timbres adding world-building motifs to what will appear, at first, a dense soundscape. In a long-standing prog tradition, Bedsore uses the drawn-out intro of “Minerva’s Obilesque” and first riff-based track “Scars of Light” both to pay homage to great works, like King Crimson’s Red or an Ennio Morricone score, and to introduce a few primary motifs that later tracks explore. And while that dedication to exposition covers a dutiful twelve-minute stretch, its worming characters, as promised, return in dramatic union (“A Colossus, an Elephant, a Winged Horse, the Dragon Rendezvous”) and vibrant swells (“Fanfare for a Heartfelt Love”). And though side A conclusion “A Colossus…” finds part of its footing in established pointers, it too finds a personification of its main players in low synth stomp (Colossus), wailing saxophone (Elephant), playful organ bursts (Winged Horse), and a Zappa-esque guitar squeal (Dragon), all of which come together in a swirling coda. It can be exhausting attenuating the onslaught of constructed sounds, but Dreaming’s colors unfold to those who can.

The total spectrum of sound through Dreaming appears lush at first and even tenth swipe, but its squashing of the mic renders one of its most dynamic elements flat. Dialed Mellotron refrains and delicate cymbal brushes remain bright and focal enough so that the hop to space or slide to calm never feel out of place—Davide Itri’s drum performance throughout shows a mastery of moody tom tumbles and malleted rolls, if a touch light in kick. But in the splendor of these bright intrusions, these marching and booming rhythms, and a lead guitar tone that just won’t quit, Jacopo Gianmaria Pepe’s blackened wail fades in and out of the mix, not for psychedelia’s sake either. As one of the few elements that keeps Bedsore’s toes in deathly waters, these shrieks and howls also can add weight to flighty ventures into Hawkwind patch overload or guitar-saxophone histrionic duels. Instead, and likely intentionally, they dissipate in the haze of instrumental experimentation.

Ever entrenched in cinema, the unique and Italian expression that Bedsore uses to build its prog poses a challenge to the extremity that persists in bursts. Yet, despite the complexity and labyrinthian storytelling that encompasses the Dreaming the Strife for Love experience, Bedsore maintains an effortless flair about every nook and cranny of this deeply planned affair. A band’s continued dive into progressive waters can often feel unnatural or clunky. But tight as the flared trousers that adorn the heroes of Bedsore’s ’70s reimagination, Dreaming in execution leaves little wonder that it could have been anything else. As a surreal tale with an eerie and open-ended conclusion, this sophomore endeavor has set the stage for Bedsore not to fester but bloom.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: 20 Buck Spin | Bandcamp
Websites: bedsoredeath.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/bedsoredeath
Releases Worldwide: November 29th, 2024

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#20BuckSpin #35 #Bedsore #BloodIncantation #DreamingTheStrifeForLove #EnnioMorricone #FrankZappa #Goblin #Hawkwind #ItalianMetal #KingCrimson #Opeth #ProgressiveDeathMetal #ProgressiveMetal #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews