AMG Goes Ranking – Megadeth By Grin Reaper

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…

Megadeth requires no introduction, but I’ll give one anyway to provide context for why we composed an overwrought missive about one of thrash’s most enduring acts. Last year, frontman and metal legend Dave Mustaine announced Megadeth would call it quits following one last album and tour. With over forty years of metal history in the books and Megadeth’s endgame on the horizon, what better way to celebrate a storied career filled with legendary cuts and excessive ellipses than with a good ol’ fashioned ranking? Through sixteen albums, Dave and his Dethcrew have offered platters ranging from so good to so what, and we at AMG apparently have a lot to say about them.

Regardless of how you feel about Megadeth, their lasting legacy casts an immense shadow. Mustaine’s indelible footprint is evident, driving many of us writers to spend countless hours sweating bullets and overwriting about a band we love to Deth. From inauspicious beginnings in 1983,1 when Dave was famously booted from Metallica a month before recording Kill ’em All, to clawing their way into metal’s collective consciousness, Megadeth notched an extraordinary victory and became one of the most recognized bands in rock and metal. Mustaine’s influence stands tall, a monument to what a man can accomplish when he dives headlong into the lungs of hell and sets the metal world on fire with one sick lick after another. We’ll be back with a look at Megadeth’s self-titled swan song, but in the meantime, let us commence reckoning Dave and AMG’s countdown to distinction.

– Grin Reaper

The Rankings

Grin Reaper

Megadeth has been a mainstay of my diet for as long as I’ve listened to metal. I started with their greatest hits, then greedily absorbed album after album as my rapacity for thrash deepened. Leading up to Megadeth, returning to this discography gives me a new appreciation for what Dave has accomplished. Even if the lyrics can be heavy-handed and the desire for accessibility occasionally hamstrings success, Megadeth has forged some of the best thrash platters ever. For the hours I’ve spent with this music, I owe Megathanks.2

#16. Risk (1999) — I’m paraphrasing, but at some point, Mustaine said, “If Risk didn’t have Megadeth’s name on it, it would’ve sold.” Maybe,3 but it seems clear the priority was selling records and not writing great fucking metal. The doctor is calling, and he says to listen to any other Megadeth album, stat.

#15. Th1rt3en (2011) — Th1rt3en contains many of Megadeth’s core ingredients, but lacks the hooks and vitality of other releases. The album’s thirteen tracks are exhaustively padded and range from forgettable to middling. One of Megadeth’s most phoned-in albums, I rarely return to Th1rt3en outside of a full Deth play-through.

#14. Super Collider (2013) — Compared to Th1rt3en, Super Collider’s highs are higher and its lows lower. Tracks like “Kingmaker” and “Built for War” burn with a fire that rarely ignites on its predecessor, and while Super Collider’s duration is vastly improved, it only edges out Th1rt3en by the skin of its teeth.

#13. The World Needs a Hero (2001) — TWNaH might rank higher if Megadeth said goodbye to “When” and “Promises” and trimmed fat from other tracks. As is, the choruses on “Disconnect” and “Burning Bridges” nestle between Youthanasia and Cryptic Writings, which scores big points. Though not the ‘return to thrash’ advertised following Risk, it proved a crucial first step in course correction.

#12. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — A step down from Dystopia, TStDatD bears some undeniable moments (including the entirety of “We’ll Be Back”) that put a high-speed hurt on your earholes. At its best, the album cranks a blistering fury that defines the immediacy Kiko brought to Megadeth. Hobbled by bloat, this could have been a better album with judicious editing.

#11. The System Has Failed (2004)4 — An irrefutable improvement on TWNaH, The System Has Failed tightened up the songwriting and injected more thrashitude than fans had seen since Youthanasia.5 Dave’s vocals are particularly strong here, and while it’s not as good as the two albums that followed, The System Has Failed is a striking improvement over Risk and TWNaH.

#10. Dystopia (2016) — Dystopia outstrips Th1rt3en and Super Collider by a country mile. While Megadeth doesn’t totally shake excess length or back-half slogs here, the opening trio of songs on Dystopia comprises the best introductory salvo since Rust in Peace.6 The rest of the album teeters between okay and very good, but “The Threat Is Real,” “Dystopia,” and “Fatal Illusion” are the most vital Deth has sounded in the 21st century.

#9. Endgame (2009) — Chris Broderick joining Megadeth set fire to the guitar leads, crafting scorching, thrashy magic on the likes of “This Day We Fight!” and “Head Crusher.” This is the most technical Megadeth has played since Marty Friedman was in the band, and the combination of six-string acrobatics, tight songwriting, and a mighty back half gives Endgame the right to be insane.

#8. United Abominations (2007) — Endgame and United Abominations are a toss-up, but UA wins out because there’s more variety from track to track, the bass slaps me silly with engaging countermelodies (“Washington Is Next!”), and there’s no “The Hardest Part of Letting Go…Sealed with a Kiss.” Plus, “Sleepwalker” is one of my favorite Megadeth tracks in the last thirty years.

#7. Cryptic Writings (1997) — Infusing all the post-grunge, alternative angst of the mid-to-late ’90s, Cryptic Writings teems with direct, catchy riffs and a vaguely dark edge. Boasting a restrained runtime, singalong choruses, and killer bass grooves, Cryptic Writings travels the popular, rock-oriented path whose biggest sin is lacking the thrash beatdown they’re so damn good at.

#6. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — Megadeth’s debut hemorrhages razor-sharp riffs in an uncontested frenzy of vitriol and venom. Unrefined and raw compared to what came later, Killing Is My Business endures as a testament to Dave Mustaine’s tenacity and vehement pledge to play better and faster than everyone else, all in an indefatigable half hour.

#5. Youthanasia (1994) — Doubling down on the streamlined songwriting from Countdown to Extinction, Youthanasia flaunts grade-A, pop-informed hookiness with metal vestiges. It also sports one of my favorite solos Megadeth wrote after 1990 in “Victory,” which encapsulates the danger of early Deth and how Mustaine’s and Friedman’s fretwork feels like it could go off the rails at any moment, but never quite does. The digestible track lengths sustain Youthanasia’s kinetic momentum throughout, even if it dips toward the end. Megadeth doesn’t recapture the aggression and destruction present on prior outings, but Youthanasia still evinces a band firing on all cylinders.

#4. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — I originally had SFSGSW ranked lower because of how much it’s overshadowed by the albums surrounding it. Listening with a ranking mindset and not chronologically,7 it’s apparent that Megadeth’s third album wields the unpolished vigor of their debut to greater effect. SFSGSW snatches you with barbed hooks in ear, dragging you into singalong anarchy.8 The album also contains “In My Darkest Hour,” one of the all-time great Megadeth jams. It takes the raw energy and animosity from Peace Sells and foreshadows the more progressive structures of Rust in Peace, cementing it as not only the best track on the album, but one of the best in Deth’s catalog.

#3. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Forsaking the technical fervor of Rust in Peace, Mustaine rerouted Megadeth’s trajectory down a more commercially viable path. And though I loathe the change in direction from RiP, I can’t deny Dave’s success in creating some of the band’s most recognizable anthems while discharging the best-selling album of Megadeth’s career. “Symphony of Destruction” was the first Megadeth song I encountered, and once I dove deeper, “Skin o’ My Teeth” and “Sweating Bullets” quickly became frequent stops. Countdown remains the best fusion of Megadeth’s bethrashened roots and perennial commercial lust.

#2. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — Many will tell you that Peace Sells is Megadeth’s best album. It’s not, but it’s very, very close. Maintaining the rabid ferocity of Killing Is My Business, Mustaine exercised a modicum of restraint, and instead of pumping toxic levels of riffs straight down your ear gullet, he wrote some all-time burners that expanded on the debut’s technicality without sacrificing its infectious charm. Guitar theatrics blaze through Peace Sells’ scant thirty-six minutes while the bass and drums complement serpentine axe-work with inspired grooves and rolls. In another discography, this thrashterpiece would wear the crown without challenge. Alas, Megadeth perfected technical thrash four years later…

#1. Rust in Peace (1990) — For years, Megadeth’s pièce de résistance has been my unquestioned favorite thrash metal album. Its progressive alchemy marries unfuckwithable riffs and Dave’s ever-present punky snarl, taking no prisoners and defining an iconic benchmark of the genre. When I first broke into Megadeth via their Greatest Hits, “Holy Wars…” and “Hangar 18” dominated my early listening. When I relented and bought Rust in Peace, those early listens were a revelation. I expected solid material on par with the tracks I already knew, but the quality of bangers here is unparalleled. The deep-cut status of “Tornado of Souls” and “Rust in Peace… Polaris” is criminal, but demonstrates the strength of the songwriting. Rust in Peace never relents in its cascade of squealing solos, pummeling fills, and sneer-along anthems, and there’s nary a moment that doesn’t set my head crushing banging. The apex of Megadeth’s discography is absolute perfection, and if you don’t like it, go tell it to Reader’s Digest.

Owlswald

Long tethered to Metallica’s shadow, Dave Mustaine has consistently forged music that resonates with me in some way, regardless of his antics or the era’s quality. Megadeth spearheaded my obsession with thrash and extreme metal. And although decades of lineup shifts, addiction, and health battles aimed to thwart Megadeth multiple times, Mustaine’s resilience has been steadfast. Accordingly, Megadeth is set to release their seventeenth album—a final curtain call for Mustaine to voluntarily leave the stage as metal royalty. So, to a living legend: thank you for your relentless dedication and for opening the gates of metal for me. Your legacy is secure, your throne is earned, and your place as a true titan of the genre is solidified.

#16. Risk (1999) — Essentially, “Dave tries to write hit songs,” Risk finds Mustaine still chasing a #1 record after Cryptic Writings and failing even worse the second time. Both albums serve as underwhelming final chapters for the group’s most storied era. There isn’t much else to say: Megadeth’s greatest lineup deserved a much better send-off.

#15. The World Needs a Hero (2001) — Mustaine intended for this record to fix the damage of Risk, but missed the mark completely. “1000 Times Goodbye” and “Promises” rank among Megadeth’s worst songs, squandering the potential of the “Return to Hangar” concept. Indeed, the world may still need a hero, but it certainly didn’t need this album.

#14. Th1rt3en (2011) — When the only lasting impression is Mustaine’s awful lyrics, the system has truly failed. Megadeth clearly mailed in most of this record, from the tropey “Guns, Drugs, & Money” and “We the People,” right down to its uninspired self-titled name. In short: ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz.

#13. Super Collider (2013) — Though clearly bad, this record at least contains some semblance of the Mega juice missing from Th1rt3en. “Kingmaker,” “Beginning of Sorrow,” and “Built for War” make it memorable, for better or worse. However, the title track inexplicably finds Mustaine going full John Cougar Mellencamp, and “The Blackest Crow” sounds like the Deadliest Catch theme song.

#12. United Abominations (2007) — Despite “Sleepwalker,” “Washington Is Next!” and revisiting “A Tout Le Monde,” United Abominations falls on its face faster than you can decipher whatever the hell is going on with that artwork. Tracks like “Amerikhastan,” “Gears of War” and the title track are a mess, and Mustaine’s sermonizing rants further weigh things down.

#11. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — Megadeth’s sixteenth effort leans on repetitive formulas and Mustaine’s weary vocals. Kiko Loureiro’s world-class fret-work and Dirk Verbeuren’s thundering percussion shine on tracks like “Night Stalkers,” “Sacrifice,” “Life In Hell” and “We’ll Be Back.” However, by the time “Mission to Mars” hits, bloated runtimes and awful songwriting drag things to Super Collider territory.

#10. Cryptic Writings (1997) — Chasing a #1 record, Megadeth adopted a disappointing, radio-oriented sound under producer Bud Prager. By dividing itself into thirds—one part speed, one part melody, and one part mainstream—Cryptic Writings is lackadaisical. Still, tracks like “She-Wolf,” “The Disintegrators,” and hit song “Trust” remain solid amidst an otherwise underwhelming record.

#9. Dystopia (2016) — Like Endgame, Dystopia marks a return to form with the addition of Chris Adler’s precision and Loureiro’s flair, reviving some of that classic Deth energy. Despite cringy lyrics and bloat, the record brings the goods with crunchy power chords (“Post American World,” “Fatal Illusion”), breakneck speed (“The Threat is Real”) and impressive shredding (“Conquer or Die,” “Dystopia”).

#8. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — Production woes, a fractured lineup, and mountains of substance abuse notwithstanding, this record somehow survived. Less aggressive and more disjointed than KIMB or Peace Sells, So Far, So Good… So What!9 still delivers some bangers with “Set the World Afire,” “Hook in Mouth” and the classic “In My Darkest Hour.”

#7. The System Has Failed (2004) — This album is a crucial recovery from the Risk era. Chris Poland’s return and the addition of session drummer Vinnie Colaiuta provide a massive lift, compensating for muted production and a sluggish mid-section. “Kick the Chair” drives the record, offering essential proof of life and showcasing Mustaine’s resilience.

#6. Endgame (2009) — Megadeth recaptures their golden-era speed and calculated aggression through heavier, more technical songwriting. While tracks like “Bite the Hand” showcase classic riffcraft, guitarist Chris Broderick is the true catalyst—his insane solos and leads elevate the entire record. Despite minor stumbles like “The Hardest Part of Letting Go,” Endgame proved Megadeth still had it.

#5. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — More than a mere middle finger to Metallica, this debut is pure vitriol and velocity. From the breakneck pace of “Mechanix” to the straight-up thrash assault of “The Skull Beneath the Skin,” this record introduced Megadeth to the metal world and forged their identity with fire. A rhythm section unlike any other at the time anchored Mustaine’s venomous vocals and Poland’s unorthodox leads. Samuelson’s jazz-infused sensibilities and Ellefson’s precision formed a lethal engine, providing the framework for Mustaine and Poland to unleash their frantic guitar fury overhead. Beyond its raw aggression, KIMB served as a dress rehearsal for the creative pinnacle that would soon follow.

#4. Youthanasia (1994) — Hanging babies! This record captures Megadeth at the height of their mainstream powers, delivering a record that is more vocally driven than its predecessors. Mustaine offers arguably his finest vocal performance here, showcasing a resonant range that outshines even Countdown to Extinction. From the chugging pick-scrapes of the groovy “Train of Consequences” to the vulnerable “A Tout Le Monde,” though the songwriting on Youthanasia feels more calculated, controlled, and melodic, the album still retains its bite. Nick Menza’s drums hit like artillery fire, particularly on tracks like “Black Curtains,” “Youthanasia,” and “Reckoning Day.” It’s Megadeth riding on popularity without losing their edge.

#3. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Countdown to Extinction marked Megadeth’s definitive arrival as a commercial powerhouse. It introduced a polished, but still high-octane sound filled with purpose and precision that left almost all others in their deathly wake. Boasting a wealth of riffs, sophisticated lead work, Menza’s monumental drumming, and a vibrant production that gives everything an in-your-face presence, Countdown is essential Megadeth. Though it famously debuted at #2 on the charts—stymied only by another now-famous black album—tracks like the legendary “Symphony of Destruction” and “Sweating Bullets,” “Foreclosure of a Dream” and my personal favorite, “Architecture of Aggression,” prove why this record launched Megadeth into the stratosphere.

#2. Rust in Peace (1990) — What more can anyone say about this record that hasn’t already been shouted from the rafters? As the most heralded record in the Megadeth discography, Rust in Peace debuted the best lineup, fully established their now iconic sound, and ignited an incredible multi-album hot streak. Admittedly, I arrived at the Rust in Peace party late—discovering this masterpiece only after Countdown to Extinction had dropped. But it’s also cool to be fashionably late, right? Aside from the cheesy “Dawn Patrol,” this record is nothing less than a classic, proving why Megadeth earned their spot atop the thrash hierarchy.

#1. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — Speaking of classics, this was my gateway into Megadeth and the wider world of thrash metal. On a local record store recommendation,10 I picked up the tape, and once Samuelson’s drum roll kicked off “Wake Up Dead,” that was all she wrote. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? is a masterclass in aggression and technicality. While “Wake Up Dead,” the title track and “The Conjuring” are popular classics, it’s the darker, complex depths of “Bad Omen,” “Devil’s Island” and “Good Mourning / Black Friday” that define the record’s soul. The musical evolution from their debut to this is nothing short of astonishing. Most point to Rust in Peace as the pinnacle, but for me, this will forever be the definitive Megadeth record. It’s home to some of the most legendary, headbangable riffs ever written and is the ultimate Deth experience.

Baguette of Bodom

With great ’80s thrashing comes great ’90s blunders, unless you’re Testament. MEGADAVE’s long history contains many missteps, and the incessant obsession with remixing everything 17 times made this younger metalhead’s introductory experience needlessly confusing years ago. That being said, the highs are very high indeed, and I love talking veteran bands without any nostalgia goggles. For this ranking, I’m taking my favorite (and hence, most familiar) version of each album into account, usually indicated by the cover art. Though many of the originals are a must, there are notable exceptions.11 Lists sell… but who’s buying?

#16. The World Needs a Hero (2001) – Nothing says ‘thrash comeback’ like sly, edgy ’00s breakup songs at 50 BPM. Infinitely worse than their rock misadventures ever were, the stretch from “1000 Times Goodbye” to alt-metal ballad “Promises” should be considered a war crime. At least “Return to Hangar” apes a good Megadeth track.

#15. Super Collider (2013) — I don’t know what possessed Dave to reattempt the Risk method, but it went even worse for him this time. There are a couple of okay tracks here (“Kingmaker,” “Built for War”), but as a whole, the album just comes off as bafflingly tone-deaf and humorously weak.

#14. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — Holy cow, what a massive disappointment. I thought they were getting somewhere again with Dystopia, and then they fell right back below sea level. The title track and the fun “Mission to Mars” are salvageable, otherwise it’s a bloated monstrosity full of mediocre to bad re-thrash.

#13. Risk (1999) — Even having Risk this high might invoke threats of mob violence. Cuts like embarrassing arena wannabe “Crush ‘Em” make Risk comically lame, but some are decent and catchy (“Wanderlust,” “I’ll Be There”). Not a good record by any means, but Megadave is capable of worse than boring.

#12. United Abominations (2007) — A good four-track EP (especially “Washington Is Next!”) held hostage by the seven lame tracks that follow, not to mention “À Tout le Monde (Set Me Free)” being offensive to the original Youthanasia gem. Not an abomination, but still corny and mediocre.

#11. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — When discussing Megadeth’s ‘first four,’ SFSGSW is usually spoken of under breath, if mentioned at all. And for good reason: it’s angsty, gimmicky, and “Anarchy in the U.K.” is a Thing That Should Not Be. However, the all-time great “In My Darkest Hour” justifies the existence of the entire album.12

#10. Cryptic Writings (1997) — Overhated! It’s bloated with annoying radio filler, but also contains some strong, catchy tunes with a great sense of both melody and groove (“Trust,” “A Secret Place”). Crown jewel “She-Wolf” is a discography highlight, and the closest Megadave ever got to Iron Maiden.13

#9. Th1rt3en (2011) — Aside from the terribad name, Thirteen14 is also way overhated. It’s a bit too long and I don’t spin it regularly, but it’s a consistently solid record from a band that often struggles with consistency. Basically a slower Endgame/Dystopia, with good fun tracks like “Fast Lane” and “Wrecker.”15

#8. Dystopia (2016) — I’ve cooled on this album, but it’s still one of their better current-millennium records. Not that there’s a whole lot of competition! The instrumental “Conquer or Die!” is very fun in particular, but it’s good thrash all around, with more energy and stronger highlights than Thirteen. Worse vocals, though.

#7. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — A strong transitional record, even if somewhat overrated. Gimmicks (“Psychotron,” “Captive Honour”) and oversimplified guitar work set it back somewhat, but the highlights are great. The title track is one of Megadeth’s finest moments, and “Ashes in Your Mouth” deserves more praise, too.

#6. Endgame (2009) — This is commonly regarded as the best post-1990 ‘Deth, and I totally see why. It’s a powerful, aggressive, energetic record, almost front to back, with even shredtastic intro gem “Dialectic Chaos” somehow being a highlight. However, there are other albums that I think do more with higher peaks.

#5. The System Has Failed (2004) — Severely underrated! The songwriting is heavy, catchy, and creative all at the same time, in a way it hasn’t been ever since, and everything from “Die Dead Enough” to “Back in the Day” is an earworm. This album sees the brief comeback of Chris Poland, guitarist on KIMB and Peace Sells, and he’s still got it here. Drummer Vinnie Colaiuta (Frank Zappa, Joe Satriani) also brings in that crucial outside influence that often results in great albums. I could leave “Something That I’m Not” and the strange dual outro-ish last two tracks off, but they’re alright as is.

#4. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — An endlessly fun, blazing fast, wild, and free set of bangers by a pissed-off young Dave and co. How could anyone resist “The Skull Beneath the Skin” or “Mechanix?” Though the original $0 budget mix of the album (not easily available outside of YouTube) is limp and occasionally harms the listening experience, the 2002 mix pictured here is fortunately great and largely fixes its issues. That being said, the original uncensored version of “These Boots” is much preferable—but the re-recorded and censored one on reissues is really funny in its own way.

#3. Youthanasia (1994) — Much like The Ritual was Testament’s way of showing the world you can ‘sell out’ and still make great music,16 Youthanasia managed to do the same to Megadeth’s already Countdown-diluted sound. Except this is a direct upgrade to Countdown. An infectiously catchy album front to back, loaded with great tunes while still featuring strong guitar work and clever songwriting by Marty and Dave. The back half deserves more recognition for its excellencies: “Family Tree,” “Blood of Heroes,” and song title reference extravaganza “Victory” to boot. I’d maybe only drop the title track, funnily enough.

#2. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — Despite my accidentally remix-fueled lukewarm first impression,17 the original version soon found its way through my ears into my heart and never left. Maybe part of its magic is the jazz fusion background of Chris Poland and drummer Gar Samuelsson being more prominent, or the gang blowing a little less money on drugs, or both. Regardless, Peace Sells is a special little bottle of lightning, relentless yet intelligent, and massively hook-laden. “I Ain’t Superstitious” is the only slight drawback, but “My Last Words” makes you forget it by dishing out some of the best guitar work in the genre.

#1. Rust in Peace (1990) — What is there left to say about a stone-cold classic and nigh-perfect album that hasn’t already been said? Controversially, I prefer the 2004 remix for its drum sound,18 but Rust would take the crown either way. An album that starts with “Holy Wars… The Punishment Due” and ends in “Rust in Peace… Polaris” is already an absolute monster, and the rest of the track list is equally fantastic19 only further cements its status as an all-timer. This is the album that introduced drummer Nick Menza and guitarist Marty Friedman to the wider metal world, and the music is all the richer for it. Thunderous rhythm and lead guitar work, legendary solo craft, complex yet catchy barn-burners—it’s all here. Rust in Peace is not just a cornerstone of thrash metal; it’s also a hallmark of progressive metal.

Andy-War-Hall

I remember when Pandora radio first put Megadeth’s “Skin O’ My Teeth” my way, exposing an impressionable teenage Andy to thrash metal for the very first time. At once, I grew angrier, my IQ plummeted substantially, and my chances at female companionship dropped to NY Jets Super Bowl probabilities. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Megadeth is a household name of heavy metal for a reason, and their discography has shaped the genre forever. To the kings of Too Much—whether it be notes-per-riff, ellipses-per-title, or time scrolling Facebook conspiracy theory rabbit holes—we salute thee!

#16. Risk (1999) — Risk is—to borrow the closing line of “Take No Prisoners”—”shit.” Every choice in Risk attempts to ride the already-tired waves of alt-rock and arena country. Worse yet, none of it sounds good at all. To quote “Good Mourning/Black Friday”—”What the fuck is this?”

#15. Super Collider (2013) — You know your album is in dire straits when you gotta tap Disturbed’s David Draiman for songwriting help. Just barely not Megadeth’s worst album, Super Collider feels the most exasperating. Butt-rock banality infects every nook and cranny, presenting Megadeth as a band thoroughly out of steam. Nuts.

#14. The World Needs a Hero (2001) — Bouncing back from Risk was never going to be easy. This isn’t a bounce back. If not for “Dread and the Fugitive Mind” or the deeply ironic enjoyment I derive from “1000 Times Goodbye,” TWNaH could easily have slipped to the bottom of this list for its shallowness alone.

#13. Th1rt3en (2011) — This straight up pisses me off that I got Th1rt3en at #13. It feels like I let Dave win. It being here has the same air of pretense as Mustaine’s decision to make Th1rt3en thirteen tracks long. There are perhaps five acceptable ones.

#12. Cryptic Writings (1997) — You know, I actually had a bit of fun with my last spin of Cryptic Writings. It stinks, but don’t let the Motörhead beligerence of “The Disintegrators,” the Maidenesque harmonies of “She-Wolf” or the pure thrash bonanza of “FFF” be forgotten amongst the bad of Cryptic Writings.

#11. United Abominations (2007) — If Mustaine wasn’t so utterly miserable all the time, United Abominations could’ve been awesome. The grooves and solos are real, but not one of you can tell me that the rants on “United Abominations” or “Amerikhastan” make the music better. Turn off the TV, Dave. Take a deep breath.

#10. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — Megadeth engenders strong opinions. Love ’em or hate ’em, you either love ’em or hate ’em. I have no strong feelings towards The Sick… I chuckle at the “Bring out yer dead!” sampling in the title track. I wince at Ice-T’s narration on “Night Stalkers.” Beyond that, it’s fine.

#9. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — The roughest, crustiest of Megadeth’s early material, So Far… feels like a band caught in limbo, embodying neither the piss-and-vinegar of KIMB nor the sophistication of Rust in Peace. But it’s still plenty fun, particularly with the closing three tracks. It’s like Peace Sells after a few beers.

#8. Youthanasia (1994) — The faintest odors of the enshittification of Megadeth can be smelt at times, particularly in its more rock-driven moments, but Youthanasia is nonetheless a killer send-off record to Deth’s best lineup. I used “Reckoning Day” in a short story I wrote in college one time. It was bad.

#7. Dystopia (2016) — When I heard “Fatal Illusion”‘s bitchin’ bass line in high school, I entered a fugue state and woke up with a Dystopia t-shirt from Hot Topic. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the rest of the album was also mostly good, if a bit slow at times.

#6. The System Has Failed (2004) — Why does nobody talk about The System Has Failed? After Megadeth’s most miserable stretch of albums, bangers like “Blackmail the Universe” and “Kick the Chair” soar in purest triumph. Some slight duds here and there keep it down, but if you’ve slept on The System then correct that at once!

#5. Endgame (2009) — Where Mustaine and co. found the spark that set Endgame ablaze so late in their career is a mystery to me, but boy am I glad they found it! Endgame is erupting flatulent with adrenaline-rushed barn burners like “Headcrusher,” “This Day We Fight!” and “1,320′,” and Megadeth sounds almost as volatile as they did on Killing Is My Business… with Chris Broderick’s gob-smacking guitar solos. If not for the out-of-place balladry of “The Hardest Part of Letting Go…Sealed with a Kiss,” this could’ve been a top-three contender. Shred ’til yer ded!

#4. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — The album that set Megadeth on the course towards fancier, more adventurous waves, Peace Sells… feels like the record Mustaine wanted to write but needed to vent with Killing Is My Business… first. From nasty bruisers like “Wake Up Dead” and “Devil’s Island” to dramatically-bent cuts like “The Conjuring” and “Good Mourning/Black Friday” to Mustaine’s first awkward steps into political commentary on “Peace Sells,” the Megadeth we know today truly began with this record. To put it simply, stupid, Peace Sells… is a huge part of what made ’86 the year for thrash metal.

#3. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Do you understand just how incredibly slick Countdown to Extinction is? Yeah, it’s a long step back technically from Rust in Peace, but with that stripping down in chops came sharpness, and songs like “Skin O’ My Teeth,” “Architecture of Aggression” and “High Speed Dirt” are lean, mean and sharp, indeed. Countdown sees Megadeth at their absolute hookiest, with “Symphony of Destruction,” “Sweating Bullets” and “Foreclosure of a Dream” digging deeper into my gray matter than any of their bids for radio play ever could. If not for some bloat at the end, Countdown could’ve threatened the top spot.20

#2. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — The Megadeth we all know began with Peace Sells… but Killing Is My Business… is just Dave Mustaine doing what Dave Mustaine does best: playing way too many notes way too fast and way too mad. And I love it. These riffs are just stupid in the best way, imbuing “Looking Down the Cross,” “Rattlehead” and “Mechanix” with so much spite and hostility it’s stupefying. While most pre-extreme metal records that once terrified parents now come off as a bit toothless, Killing Is My Business…, while still kinda silly, sounds dangerous in 2026.

#1. Rust in Peace (1990) — I like Megadeth. Hopefully, that came across after all of this. But for every album of theirs, even the good ones, there’s usually one or two questionable aspects or a dud song that keep them from being essential. Rust in Peace, however, is as totally essential as an album can be. Manned by Megadeth’s greatest lineup in Mustaine, Ellefson, Menza and Friedman, Rust in Peace is a heavy metal masterclass and an unquestionable classic. A marvelous artistic achievement that’s as technical (“Lucretia”) as it is emotional (“Tornado of Souls”) as it is dreadful (“Holy Wars…The Punishment Due”) as it is fun (“Take No Prisoners”), Rust in Peace is the kind of masterpiece only Dave Mustaine and his complete unwillingness to restrain himself could create. Proving that “Less Is More” is the greatest scam of our age, Rust In Peace is Megadeth’s magnum opus and you’d better believe it!

Tyme

As contentious as it’s been at times, I wouldn’t want to live in a universe where Metallica never kicked Dave Mustaine to the curb. The fact that two of the greatest thrash metal bands of all time sprouted from that split inarguably supports that statement. Despite his ups and downs and propensity for assholeish shenanigans, I’ve always been a Dave fan. As we seem to have reached a time when he’s poised to walk away from music on his terms, I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little verklempt about it. Megadeth has been a massive part of my metal upbringing, and I’ll always be thankful for the music that’ll be left behind. Well, maybe not all of it, this is a ranking post after all.

#16. Super Collider (2013) — Especially disappointing since I’d hoped Megadeth’s Risk years were safely behind them. From the cringe-inducing lyrics and tired, played-out riffs to the ridiculously boring, Vic-free cover, Super Collider is insipidly weak. It sits at the bottom of my barrel as a testament to Dave’s riskily unlearned lesson.

#15. Risk (1999) — Intentional or not, Risk was definitely that, a radio-rock debacle that more than earned its spot here. This album had always been Dave’s longest-standing turd for me, at least until 2013. My second listen, endured solely for this ranking, did nothing to change that opinion.

#14. The World Needs a Hero (2001) — Outside of “Return to Hangar,” which is a decent song even if it’s offensively cheesy, I had never listened to TWNaH completely. Megadeth-lite had entirely moved off my radar after Risk, so I never even thought about giving this a spin in 2001, or any other year until now. Thrash.

#13. Th1rt3en (2011) — Beyond the uber-cheesy, ridiculously juvenile ’13’ puns, there were a few rays of promise on this mostly bloated platter (“Sudden Death,” “Black Swan,” and “13”). Not even Dave Ellefson’s return could elevate the album from its inherent mediocrity, though—the last body in the sub-basement of Megadeth’s discog.

#12. United Abominations (2007) — I saw Megadeth live for the first time during 06’s Gigantour, where I picked up a nifty autographed print of United Abominations’ cover art. This album is mid-tier Megadeth, and while a few diamonds exist, it takes some weed-whacking through the rough to find them.

#11. Cryptic Writings (1997) — Tolerably catchy, Cryptic Writings was a definite precursor to Megadeth’s dark years (1998 – 2003). Still, there’s a handful of tracks here I return to on the regular. For me, Cryptic Writings marked the end of the most successful run of Megadeth’s existence.

#10. Endgame (2009) — By far one of the better records to come from the second half of Megadeth’s career, Endgame is full of crispy riffs and Dave’s trademark snarls. It is by far the best album recorded by the Broderick, LoMenzo, Drover line-up, even though I don’t return to it very often.

#9. Dystopia (2016) — Sporting one of my favorite Megadeth covers, Dystopia brings the riffs in droves. Kiko Loureiro’s guitar mastery and Chris Adler’s drum magic elevate the material, even bolstering Ellefson’s performance, who sounds satisfyingly rejuvenated. My biggest nit is that almost every track has an annoying fade-in.

#8. The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) — With the return of the mighty Megadethian ellipsis, and the addition of Steve DiGiorgio and Dirk Verbeuren, TS,tD… atD blew me away, coming out swinging way harder than it had any right to. Unequivocally, my favorite thing Megadeth has done in nearly two decades as of this ranking. Let the beatings commence.

#7. The System Has Failed (2004) — After disbanding due to injury, it was encouraging to hear Dave had recovered and, despite my trepidation, was going to release a solo record.21 I was, however, beyond stoked to see the Rattlehead-adorned, Megadeth-monikered TSHF drop, which was light years better than I anticipated, with keenly satisfying melodies and some of Dave’s best vocals.22

#6. Youthanasia (1994) — As an old-head Megadeth fan, the more melodic direction raised some concerns, but Youthanasia is one of the best-sounding albums in the band’s discography. That first warm and crunchy riff on “Reckoning Day” still works wonders, while “À Tout le Monde,” albeit overwrought, rocks and could only have been pulled off by Dave. Oui oui.

#5. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — My appreciation for SF, SG… SW! did not manifest until later in my metal life. I mean, any album was going to struggle to meet the high bar set by Peace Sells, but the thin production and, what I perceived as lackluster songs, aside from the most excellent “In My Darkest Hour,” just didn’t land with me. In time, though, I came to love this little gem, from the album’s lethal opening one-two punch to the last couple uppercuts (“Liar,” “Hook In Mouth”). It’s the weakest of Megadeth’s first four outings, to be sure, but it’s still a classic and sits deservingly at my number five.

#4. Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Countdown to Extinction is a muther fuckin’ CRUNCH fest. With its surgically precise production, every riff, lick, lead, bass line, and snare strike sounds crystal clear, putting the album in a sonic category all its own. Yes, it was a more rock-forward affair and a departure from the classic thrash assault Megadeth had become known for, but I love every minute of it. Countdown holds some of my favorite deep cuts (“This Was My Life,” “Psychotron,” “Ashes in Your Mouth”) and, despite its uber-popularity, “Symphony of Destruction” is still a pulse pounder.

#3. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — When Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor came wafting out of my speakers for the first time, it hooked me. Every acidic drop of Dave’s piss and vinegar attitude pours out of each minute on Killing, his vocal performance brilliantly unhinged. Of the Big Four debuts, Killing Is My Business stands as the rawest and most eclectic, full of lightning-fast riffs and jazzy, blues-tinged melodies. Ellefson’s performance, especially, is a delight for me, ebullient and Maideningly noodling, it stands as the best of his Megadeth career. And by the time I made it to the jet-fueled funny car speed of “Mechanix,” I was fascinated by how fast “The Four Horsemen” could be played.

#2. Rust in Peace (1990) — Technically proficient, polished, and magnificently executed, Rust in Peace is one of the largest jewels in Megadeth’s crown. In fact, there’s not a track on this, or on either of the other two excellent Megaplatters wedged above and below it on this list, that compels me to reach for the skip button, bangers all. A guitar-lover’s absolute wet dream, Friedman and Mustaine combine to turn in the shreddingest performance of any Megadeth release bar none. And though the Friedman, Ellefson, Menza iteration of the band would never surpass the excellence on offer here, they never needed to—Megadeth perfection.

#1. Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986) — If the 80s were the golden age of thrash, 1986 was the platinum year of that age—each of the Big Four releasing, for me at least, the best albums of their careers.23 Peace Sells took the unhinged craziness of Killing and honed it to a razor’s edge, while still retaining a rawness that, for me, perfectly embodies the classic sound of thrash metal. Coming of age at a time when MTV was still playing music videos, I spent countless nights riveted to the screen watching Headbanger’s Ball, and no video got my blood pumping more than “Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying?” It’s my favorite Megadeth song to this day, and that harmonized breakdown mid-song still gives me goosebumps. From the brilliantly rendered Ed Repka cover art, whose work became synonymous with the genre, to the thirty-six minutes of utter thrash metal bliss, Peace Sells has been and will always be my number one.

MegaDolph

I’ve been listening to Megadeth for almost as long as I’ve been listening to metal, as classic NWOBHM and shred led me straight down a path to thrash. With a perpetual chip on his shoulder and a voice suited for little beyond punkish and sneering music, Dave Mustaine cemented his brand of all-fury riffcraft and roll-the-dice band selection into my listening history, even if his own history with Megadeth has near as many flaws as it does adornments. And so, in the spirit that Mustaine would harbor, I’m pulling no punches and delivering my mostly agreeable stances on Megadeth with tact and brevity. And that leads us straight to…

The Bad: The bottom can be entertaining in some discographies, but when #16 Risk (1999) holds the floor, you get tepid alt-rock sung by a guy who should be doing something else. Likewise, when #15 The World Needs a Hero (2001) stands above it in its “Dave writes songs about being angry at women” glory, and when Dave wastes the screeching talents of Al Pitrelli (Savatage, Trans-Siberian Orchestra), little better awaits you. I wish I could say that #14 Super Collider (2013) raised the bar, but in a similar fashion to its rung below, Chris Broderick might as well have had his guitar credits removed cause Dave went to great lengths to focus on anything but what Broderick could add to Dave revisiting sloggy blues rock with the occasional thrash riff. #13 Cryptic Writings (1997) marks the first improvement on this grueling path to the good stuff, if only because a few songs continue the playful-but-not-really-thrash energy of early ’90s Deth. #12 The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022) sees Dave pulling the same old tricks in hiring legendary bassist Steve DiGiorgio (Quadvium, Testament) just for him to be part of the album’s absent low-end; however, Kiko Loureiro (ex-Angra), at least, bolsters this walking speed collection with sick solos. In many ways, #11 Endgame (2009) was the same album, a little more than a decade earlier, but with Chris Broderick being the additional fretboard fire—I wish those flames had burned “The Hardest Part of Letting Go… Sealed with a Kiss” to ashes. But, as we move to the top 10 of Megadeth’s career, things truly do get better.

#10. Th1rt3en (2011) — Though a cut above the most disposable of Megadeth’s works—and host to their worst album name by a wide margin—Dave wears his last effective snarl in the Megadeth chronology and manages to use Broderick in smart ways against his punky/blues rock attitude.

#9. Dystopia (2016) — Much like the album that comes after it (The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead!), its breezy cadence makes for a low enthusiasm experience, but one with Kiko Loureiro, again, stealing the show when he’s allowed to flex—he’s even given one full song to himself to do it (“Conquer or Die”)!

#8. Youthanasia (1994) — Though already halfway to the sound they’d explore later in the ’90s, Megadeth still thinks they’re a groovy metal band for most (sans the ballads, yuck) of Youthanasia, which goes a long way with the classic Menza-Ellefson rhythm section and Friedman solo magic.

#7. United Abominations (2007) — The Drover brothers harbor the tightest rhythm-lead interplay on UA since Youthanasia while Dave drags it down all the way to the 7-spot by filling about 71% of this album with drunk uncle ranting and radio-filtered “samples.”

#6.Countdown to Extinction (1992) — Hot off the heels of Rust in Peace, this step backwards in composition functions a lot like the step backwards that So Far, So Good… So What! delivered, except that about half the songs disappear under the weight of its best cuts.

#5. So Far, So Good… So What! (1988) — A lot of people, even my colleagues, I’m sure, will call half this album filler or unadvisable, but I call it Dave having a blast with one-time second guitarist Jeff Young, littering pinchy, wailing, neoclassical lead work over punchy, punky, small club thrash.24

#4. The System Has Failed (2004) — System possesses an ambition in Megadeth returning to thrash, Poland returning to melting faces, and Dave creating big studio arrangements around riffed out hooks and his classic snarky diatribes—balance and power.

#3. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985) — Megadeth sounds like they could fall apart at any moment of Killing’s reckless 6-string mania, but they never do despite having blown most of their production budget on performance-enhancing substances.

#2. Rust in Peace (1990) — Megadeth captured Marty Friedman in his metal-related creative peak, which makes for some of the most iconic thrash solos that elevate simpler cuts—most of Rust is quite technical and progressive for an American thrash band like at that time—like “Take No Prisoners” and “Poison Was the Cure” to rager status.

#1. Peace Sells… But Who’s Buying? (1986) — Bass-forward, fretboard gymnastics-loaded, and crowd-ready in its aggressive thrash platform, Peace Sells stands the test of time in every riff, in every spiteful Dave spitting, and every sweat stain of pure mosh energy.

Angry Metal Guy Staff Ranking

We’ve once again used our tallying magic to use a complex point system based on submitted rankings.

Risk (1999)

Super Collider (2013)

The World Needs a Hero (2001)

Th1rt3en (2011)

The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022)

Cryptic Writings (1997)

United Abominations (2007)

Dystopia (2016)

Endgame (2009)

So Far, So Good… So What! (1988)

The System Has Failed (2004)

Youthanasia (1994)

Countdown to Extinction (1992)

Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985)

Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986)

Rust in Peace (1990)

Angry Metal Discord Pile o’ Entitled Opinions

We did the same thing for our Discord users. Their opinions smell almost as bad as they do. But they have strong opinions about Dave and his rotating cast of thrashy miscreants. There’s no way they got it more right though… right? But you asked for more lists25

Super Collider (2013)

The World Needs a Hero (2001)

Risk (1999)

The Sick, the Dying… and the Dead! (2022)

Th1rt3en (2011)

United Abominations (2007)

Cryptic Writings (1997)

Dystopia (2016)

The System Has Failed (2004)

Youthanasia (1994)

Endgame (2009)

So Far, So Good… So What! (1988)

Countdown to Extinction (1992)

Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! (1985)

Peace Sells… but Who’s Buying? (1986)

Rust in Peace (1990)

Given the wide reach Megadeth’s music has, we thought it would be a good exercise to highlight some of Deth’s lesser-known tracks to let casual listeners know what they’ve been missing.



#2026 #AmericanMetal #AMGGoesRanking #AMGRankings #Angra #Dystopia #Endgame #FrankZappa #IronMaiden #Jan26 #JoeSatriani #JohannSebastianBach #Megadeth #Metallica #Quadvium #Savatage #SexPistols #SuperCollider #Testament #Th1rt3en #TheSickTheDyingAndTheDead #Thirteen #ThrashMetal #TransSiberianOrchestra

AMG Goes Ranking – Panopticon

By Thus Spoke

Whether they “invented” it or not, Panopticon’s blend of bluegrass and black metal is distinctive in a way few superficially similar acts can match. From the very start, there was something special, and while the sound grew more refined, its core never changed—there was always an immense sense of drama, emotional intensity, and an unpretentious, honest heart that you could feel whether progenitor Austin Lunn was shrieking in fury or crooning softly.

Panopticon sits apart not only from other USBM acts, but from black metal acts in general. In many senses, the project functions as a kind of antithesis or a subversion of several unfortunate black metal stereotypes. Whereas the “trve” image of the genre is one of aggression and hatred, often to the point of edginess, Panopticon embodies something a lot closer to love, inverting the trope of isolation and darkness on its head in an overwhelming message of solidarity. The rebelliousness embodied by a particularly black metal fondness for (real or affected) devil-worship manifests instead through authentic and peaceful anarchist philosophy. “Nature worship” is delivered through environmentalism rather than religiosity. Though a solo act, there is little, if any, lyrical space devoted to navel-gazing, with the emphasis again being on common human experience, and the natural world we all share. The consistent prominence of samples provides yet another window into the spirit that lies behind every record, as they show glimpses of political fear-mongering and the dehumanization of “undesirable” groups, giving a voice to the fight for workers’ rights, environmental protection, righteous anger, and yet also, hope for the future.

And so, of all the words I associate with Panopticon, “empathy” is near the top. It’s probably the reason that I can’t get through most of these albums without crying. That incredibly human aspect to the music also makes the impact of individual albums very personal, having spoken to my fellow rankers and read their submissions, this is quite evident. Even where we align, our reasons often don’t.

Before we begin, I want to shout out Mystikus Hugebeard in particular. Were it not for him and his orb of infinite wisdom suggesting it in the first place, I would not have dragged myself out of a quiet hiatus and pulled together this piece at all. I feel privileged to be able to write this introduction, given my relative lack of seniority compared to Panopticon’s resident official reviewer, El Cuervo. I guess this shows you where keenness (and a good suggestion) can get you. I hope you’re all ready for a long and lascivious tongue-bathing of one of black metal’s most stoically and understatedly iconic artists.

The Rankings

Thus Spoke

#10. On the Subject of Mortality (2010) – Every Panopticon album has a ‘moment’ for me where I am bowled over by the heady combination of jaw-dropping musical composition and emotional intensity, i.e, a bit that makes me cry. Except for this one. I do love some of these songs in isolation (“Living Eulogy,” “To Make an Idol of Our Fear and Call it God”), but overall, there’s an intangible absence of force, a twist of a knife or sigh of despair, or heart-stopping climax, that relegates Mortality to its unfortunate position. Perhaps the lukewarm vibes are a result of Mortality’s status as a kind of compilation of past tracks initially released in splits and singles, and there’s a subconscious lack (whether on my part or Panopticon’s) of driving central purpose and weight. I hate to put any Panopticon record at the bottom of anything, but something has to be here.

#9. Collapse (2009) – While still a very cool album, Collapse leaves me oddly cold. The trajectory falters a little as it sways between the debut’s vehement rawness, a floatier, more post-black sound, and passages of Appalachian folk which would come to define later Panopticon. Sometimes, they all converge brilliantly (“The Death of Baldr and the Coming War,” “Merkstave,” “Beginning of the End”), and even when the separation is more stark (“Aptrgangr,” “Idavoll,”) the music doesn’t lack coherence, just refinement. Collapse mixes in the new with the old in a way that both evolves Panopticon’s sound and keeps things consistently unique. Its grip is, nonetheless, uneven, with highlights in “The Death…,” “Merkstave,” and “The Beginning of the End” punctuated by lesser movements. As a symptom of a developing style, this is forgivable, especially given where things went.

#8. Autumn Eternal (2015) – Look, I’m sorry; I know this is a fan favorite. I’ve just never seen what so many seem to see in Autumn Eternal when they count it among Panopticon’s best. Yes, it’s beautiful (“Pale Ghosts”) and can be epic, but so are all Panopticon albums, and relative to its sisters, Autumn Eternal’s swooping gestures and delicate caresses feel like a dilution of Panopticon traits, with much less magic than on many other outings. There’s comparatively little fire in the blazing black metal of the charges, and the melodies are simply less interesting (“Oaks Ablaze” and “A Superior Lament”). Even when the execution is—as is to be expected—superb (“Autumn Eternal,” “Pale Ghosts”), I am never as enamored as I am when I listen to other preferred Panopticon moments. This is also the record where I enjoy the folkier touches the least (except for Collapse). And though it’s far from Panopticon’s longest, Autumn Eternal almost drags.

#7. Social Disservices (2011) – Panopticon records have a habit of hitting pretty hard, but Social Disservices hits hard in a very particular way. In addition to its musical strikingness as the smoothest blend yet of atmospheric black metal, it’s also conceptually striking in the form of a brutal gut-punch at the moment you first notice what’s going on. You don’t even need to read the lyrics to experience this epiphany, just the track list. “Resident” becomes “Client,” who becomes “Subject,” and finally “Patient,” adumbrating the insidious progression of control and objectification of the individual by systems of power. As if its biting words and magnificently moving melodies (“Client,” “Patient”) weren’t enough, the distressing samples of screaming babies (“Client”) and overlapping voices of anger and despair (“Subject”) leave absolutely no escape. This effect is so powerful that it proves slightly harmful for this record’s ranking, as there is little to no peace or calm from the onslaught until “Patient”‘s closing act. But every time I do return, I remember it’s a brilliant atmo-black record, and curse my forgetfulness.

#6. Panopticon (2008). Woe to those who dismiss the debut. Powerfully intense in itself, it further blows my mind by how much of the later Panopticon is audible in it. Already so dynamic, and so emotionally and politically-charged, with Lunn’s anti-authoritarian anarchist philosophy (“Flag Burner, Torch Bearer,” “…Speaking…,” “Emma’s Song”) on full display.1 A passionate series of epic-length, sample-splicing blackened storms, prefiguring Panopticon idiosyncrasies to come. Fluent, dynamic drumming that eschews the monotone blastbeat and gives away Lunn’s beginnings as a drummer; dramatic, triumphant rhythmic riffing;2 the touch of atmosphere in resonant chords and weeping tremolos. Already, the emotional core reaches beyond the fury of the angriest moments (“I, Hedonist,” “Emma’s Song”), with “…Speaking…” delivering potent poignancy in stirring, melancholic atmoblack that builds to a fever of pathos. Yes, it needs a trim, and it’s a little rough around the edges, but as the birth of Panopticon, things could hardly have gone better.

#5. The Rime of Memory (2023) – Given the unadulterated praise I heaped upon The Rime of Memory, you’d be forgiven for assuming that this would have ended up higher. But the ridiculous calibre of this band’s discography means that from here on, all albums are at least Excellent, and this one’s being here is more a case of others’ strengths. It’s Panopticon at their most consistently beautiful in the engrossing part folk, part gaze, part blistering black metal way that no subgenre peer can match (“Cedar Skeletons,” “The Blue Against the White”). It’s a paragon of marathon-length black metal songwriting, where the immersion just doesn’t break and the musical and emotional builds and releases are earned, and affecting on a huge scale (“Winter’s Ghost,” “Cedar Skeletons,” “Enduring the Snow Drought”). Like its predecessor …And Again Into the Light, the more prominent use of cello and violin works to further pull on the heartstrings by augmenting melodies with weeping, drawling warmth and sadness. This is how you do atmoblack; or at least, this is how Panopticon is doing it currently, and it’s absolutely wonderful.

#4. Roads to the North (2014) – I consider Roads to the North to be Panopticon’s most Panopticon-sounding album of all. Unlike Autumn Eternal, which analogously distills the core musical aura and is divided into more numerous, shorter songs, Roads to the North pulls no punches in any dimension, never sacrificing the authenticity of bluegrass or the consuming force of black metal. The seamless, and emotionally stirring flow of distinct but univocal movements—especially the “Long Road” trilogy and its gorgeous final part—is nothing short of masterful. And the riffs here are fantastic (“The Echoes of a Disharmonic Evensong,” “In Silence,” “Chase the Grain”); not only vivacious and memorable but so effortlessly matching the spirit of the folk that tells the story of the record in tandem both separately, measuredly, perfectly (“Norwegian Nights”), and with clever, stirring integration (“Where Mountains Pierce the Sky,” “The Sigh of Summer”). There is precious little barring Roads to the North’s entry into my top 3; maybe with more time, it’ll end up there.

#3. Kentucky (2012). When I first heard Kentucky, I didn’t love it. This was probably a knee-jerk reaction to the tin whistle and the uptempo country vibe of the bluegrass tracks. But the characteristically stirring black metal, dramatically rent with thundering drums, gentler folk (“Black Waters,” “Kentucky”), and testimony, always took me. Soon the tin whistle’s dissonance gained a striking thrill, and the rousing, commiserating calls of “Come All Ye Coal Miners” and “Which Side are You On” claimed their rightful position as vital chapters in the tale: the moving story of the Kentucky coal mining industry that ravaged the mountains and ruined lives through abuse and corruption. Heartening, bittersweet hope (“Black Soot and Red Blood”) with uplifting scales and inexorable, battering lows. Huge drama befitting the Appalachian mountains themselves (“Killing the Giants as they Sleep”) with cascading guitar lines, and infinite atmospheres surrounding the stunned sorrow of returning to a devastated landscape. I am unfailingly moved, and can understand why this is #1 for so many, even though it isn’t mine.3

#2. The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness (2018) – Scars’ dualistic nature—so often bearing the brunt of criticism as listeners disown either part—is central to its brilliance. With Part 1 centring on the relationship between mankind and nature, Part 2 zooms in closer on the people; the macro and the micro-relations central to the creation and deepening of the Scars. The former epitomizes its focus with wilder black metal that could be favorably compared to Mare Cognitum at times, complete with some of Panopticon’s best riffs (“Blåtimen,” “Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing”) and most dramatically beautiful melodies (“Snow-Burdened Branches”).4 The hinted mournfulness is felt more keenly in Part 2, whose acoustic stylings lay bare the disenfranchisement and loneliness latent under the snow. Panopticon’s best bluegrass lies here, and particularly over the last few weeks I’ve frequently found myself singing most of this album to myself (“The Moss Beneath the Snow,” “Four Walls of Bone,” “A Cross Abandoned.”) A younger, more ignorant me would have scorned my genuine love for the ‘country’-ness of this. Maturing is recognizing that the love for this spectacular double album is justified.

#1. …And Again into the Light (2020). This is not just Panopticon’s best album, but one of my favorite albums of all time. The deeply personal nature is underscored by the unpublished lyrics, and the spellbinding blend of force and delicacy here is perfected. The bluegrass is supernaturally peaceful (“…And Again into the Light,” “Her Golden Laughter Echoes”), passing into black metal with the most grace of any Panopticon example. And when it melts into gaze, in “The Embers at Dawn,” it’s so softly sad it breaks my heart. The intertwining of dizzying violins amidst the tumbling percussion in an avalanche of emotion, only an emphatic crash away from syrupy atmosphere (“Dead Loons,” “Rope Burn Exist”), is a natural and simple perfection of Panopticon’s characteristically ardent style. The heaviness which peaks in devastating “Moth Eaten Soul” is matched in goosebump-inducing ability only by “The Embers At Dawn” and the triumphant close of “Know Hope.” Every track is a monolith, yet they blend into one another so seamlessly, through exquisitely-pitched pauses of ringing chords and bird calls, that I’m practically holding my breath in awe the entire time. And if the incredible music weren’t enough in its own right, the album’s thesis of hope and light for those who feel alone, overwhelmed, and in the dark strengthens it beyond an indubitably iconic status. It’s a masterpiece that even Panopticon may struggle ever to surpass.

El Cuervo

Consigned to History

#10 Panopticon – Had the Panopticon debut arrived a decade earlier, it might have been heralded as something more than it is. Though a clattering, chaotic slice of Norwegian-style black metal, its lengthy compositions and shreddy production give it an edge that many 90s bands didn’t have. But Panopticon features almost none of the qualities that would go on to define the band. This type of music will always have an old-school charm, but in the context of Austin Lunn’s entire discography, it’s an unremarkable introduction given how much his sound would change. If you desperately desire to hear more black metal, it’ll do that job but less well than many of its influences. It’s hard to conceive this record as anything other than a formative learning experience, and it’s far from essential.

#9 Collapse – Lunn’s music frequently boils with righteous, politically-charged indignation, but Collapse is his angriest work. He channels his fury through scything leads and powerful roars, not stepping off the black metal pedal for the first ten minutes of “The Death of Baldr and the Coming War.” But the abrupt side-step into twee bluegrass for the subsequent ten minutes of the record represented a tide-change in black metal, transitioning Lunn from a quasi-Norwegian into someone distinctly more American. The songwriting and melodies here are far from Panopticon’s artistic peak. Both the black metal and folksy passages are fairly rote and lack real cohesion, as one starts and the other ends without proper transitions. But it’s hard to imagine that the band would have hit the heights that it has without the progression audible on Collapse.

Assured Steps

#8 …on the Subject of Mortality – Though Panopticon is best known for its fusion of black metal with bluegrass (blackgrass?), there are also post-rock influences in the pot. These first appear on …on the Subject of Mortality, which marks the beginning of progression away from simple black metal towards subtler black metal. The engaging layers of guitars and bold melodic lines characterize this record compared with its predecessors, even if Lunn’s vocals were still in their rougher, blacker era. And though his prior work had the fire and fury you would expect of a young black metal artist, …on the Subject of Mortality features the dramatic flair that he now evidently enjoys. This partly flows from the music that’s more dynamic – switching from blackened blasting to bold shredding to shimmering walls to lilting interludes – but also an emotive shift from pure anger to a broader spectrum. …on the Subject of Mortality was a confident step towards musical maturity.

#7 The Rime of Memory – The Rime of Memory is basically a good record. Panopticon hasn’t made a record that’s any less than good for a long time. Despite my contemporaneous 3.5 score, it was the first that I wasn’t extremely enthusiastic about since discovering the band. While a number of Panopticon records are overlong, this one suffers the worst for it. I struggle to digest it in one sitting, which defeats the purpose of the art form. And while The Rime of Memory consumes you with its heavy atmosphere and measured pace, it lacks those gilding highlights to bring you to the surface of its deep ocean. The other long albums like …and Again into the Light and Roads to the North boast awesome individual moments that elevate the whole experience, whereas The Rime of Memory holds you below. Others tell me this is the perfect ‘switch-off’ album, but I like music best when it demands my attention. This doesn’t say quite enough to me.

#6 …and Again into the Light – …and Again into the Light is distinguished most by its sense of creative comfort. By 2021, in the discography, hearing a new Panopticon record is like sliding back into a pair of old slippers. You know what you’re getting, and it’s still better than most others, but it’s not the novel experience of bygone years. Its second key characteristic is its choppiness, boasting some career highlights but contrasted by filler. The eponymous opener is arguably the best in Lunn’s oeuvre, swelling from a folksy acoustic melody into a grand arrangement with sobbing strings. And “The Embers at Dawn” is mesmerizingly gorgeous, possibly the best song he’s ever written. But the core of the record around “A Snowless Winter” does little to stand apart from the strong bookends. The highs comfortably outweigh the lows, but …and Again into the Light doesn’t reach the pantheon of true greatness.

Faltering Genius

#5 Social Disservices – After …on the Subject of Mortality, which feels closer to the post-Kentucky Panopticon, Social Disservices returns to the bleak feel of Collapse. The unsettling speed, roaring vocals, and atonal strings land this record closer to ‘depressive suicidal black metal’ than anything else in the Panopticon discography (try “Resident” for a striking, nasty opening). And even where the music does strip back into quieter passages, it’s textured with upsetting samples; electronic ambience and noise rock combine into some of the most disturbing work in Lunn’s discography (“Subject” conjures deeply uncomfortable feelings). Social Disservices is distinctly monolithic, even within a discography of potent music. Where most of Lunn’s music is marked by melodic or thematic distinctiveness, this album is surprisingly one-note. Its oppressiveness makes for a harder listen than other records on this list, but it’s perfect for scratching that dreadful itch.

#4 The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness – This was the greatest surprise for me on this list. After the exemplary run from Kentucky to Autumn Eternal, I welcomed Scars with stratospheric expectations. But the stark partition between black metal and bluegrass, plainer compositions, and sheer length left me disappointed. Returning to the album years later yields something much better than I initially recognized. Make no mistake: it’s still far too long and repetitive. But if you enter with the expectation of a slower pace and simpler arrangements, then there are far worse ways to spend 118 minutes in darkness and introspection. Certainly, it does this job better than The Rime of Memory. I especially love the softer folk arrangements on Part II; without the flabbiness of Part I, Part II would reach higher on this list. I’m no country fan – given that I’m not American, less still rural – but Scars lures me into its sparse but beautiful world with simple melodies and plaintive singing.

The Sweet Spot

#3 Roads to the North – Perhaps due to my own discovery of Panopticon with this record, my perception is that this is the record that broke Panopticon into the international metal market. It’s easy to hear why: the expansive, blackened compositions and off-beat bluegrass pull fans from different places, while the fusion of these core components was more sophisticated and harmonious than on any record prior. Even if I ultimately prefer this album’s predecessor, it was Roads to the North that found Lunn finally finding true harmony between his black metal and bluegrass influences. I also love the sense of progression here. Just as Lunn himself underwent a journey described by the album’s lyrics, it first coaxes and later drags its listener through detailed arrangements that meander through a long but clearly demarcated journey. Roads to the North was the natural culmination of all that was Panopticon until 2014.

#2 Autumn Eternal – If Kentucky marked the starting point of Lunn’s changing circumstances, and Roads to the North marked a period of uncertainty and personal challenges, then Autumn Eternal marked a guarded acceptance of his new life. There’s a moody mournfulness, but it doesn’t sound resentful; there’s a sense of a man achieving comfort. Accordingly, it’s the most melodic, pretty, and immediate of his releases. It prioritizes bold melodies and hopefulness above his prior records, which are frequently distinguished by their anguish and rage. By Panopticon’s own powerful standards, it’s almost easy and enjoyable. This in itself distinguishes Autumn Eternal. But don’t be deceived by the melodies and slickness. There remain fringes of danger that bleed through the heavier tracks, rooted in the dark Minnesotan wilderness. For the casual metal listener, Autumn Eternal is likely the best Panopticon launchpad.

#1 Kentucky – Among Panopticon’s many depictions of working-class strife, it’s Kentucky’s raw, emotional discharge that leaves the strongest mark on me. Although grounded in the eponymous state’s history, perhaps this is because abuse of coal mining communities was commonplace where I’m from, too. It conjures an energy that’s unmatched in the discography. There were many American black metal bands doing the Scandinavian thing before 2012, but none sounded so grounded in America; it sounds like corn and moonshine and rural humility. And though Lunn’s songwriting may have progressed to smoother territory on subsequent releases, Kentucky finds that sweet spot between raw black metal and subtler songcraft that would later grow. The leap from Social Disservices to Kentucky is staggering, considering the mere seven months between the two releases. Although there are plenty of strong albums in Panopticon’s career, it’s Kentucky that feels like lightning in a bottle and one of the best black metal albums ever.

Mystikus Hugebeard

When discussing the sort of black metal that speaks to me, I’ve oft likened it to a blanket. A dense, tactile wall of sounds and emotion so thick that I imagine myself sinking into and wrapping myself in its embrace. In this regard, Panopticon is practically tailor-made to draw my gaze. I am helpless against that which Panopticon offers: spacious, blackened vistas of naturalist imagery painted across lengthy songs, the integration of folk music (in this case Americana, which, like the saxophone, should be a part of far more metal bands), and riffs with such genuine emotional weight behind them. Like any purveyor of black metal, I’ve been spinning Kentucky for years, with the rest of Panopticon’s discography periodically approaching from the periphery. I was eager to participate in this ranking to celebrate the release of Panopticon’s upcoming release, so that I might entrap you readers into listening to me prattle on about one of my favorite artists. And now, it’s rankin’ time!

#10: …on the Subject of Mortality (2010). While it may be at the bottom of the list, this is not a disaster of an album by any means, but it is an unmemorable one. …on the Subject of Mortality was the most experimental album of Panopticon’s early years, and sets the stage for various elements to be explored with more depth in later releases. The tone and atmosphere are all over the place, and the sampling/voice recordings are unlike anything else in the discography. This sense of experimentation would bear great fruit in the next few albums, but …on the Subject of Mortality is in this weird middle ground where the final result feels so flat. Songs feel like little more than 7-10 minutes of a vibe, as the riffs lack sufficient meat or heft. I do like the tone of “To Make an Idol of our Fear and Call it God,” but tracks like “Living Eulogy” and “Watching You” make little impression despite dozens of re-listens. Honestly, the sampled sections made the strongest impact on me, like the sounds of whips and cries in “A Message to the Missionary” or the bombastic orchestral opening to “Living in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.” I will say that it’s not so terrible as to be avoided altogether, but if you’re sufficiently familiar and fond of Panopticon’s other works, then temper your expectations.

#9: Panopticon (2008). In the broad spectrum of Panopticon’s discography, this self-titled debut holds up well enough but is plainly overshadowed by all the growth Panopticon has enjoyed over the years. I admire Panopticon’s diversity, ranging from early versions of the post-black heard in current Panopticon (“Speaking”) to standard black metal vitriol (“Archetype”) and even pseudo-Viking-metal (“The Lay of Grimnir”). It gives the earnest impression of an artist throwing some spaghetti at the wall, with enough songwriting chops to make some of it stick. For the debut of a one-man black metal act, Panopticon’s production is also blessedly solid. But it just lacks the more complex sound and interesting songwriting that Panopticon has refined over time, feeling overwrought by the end as the deluge of long songs lack a strong focus to justify the space. Panopticon is enjoyable enough, to be sure, and it’s fun to see where things began and pick up on nuggets of ideas that would later be expanded upon, but none of the songs truly compel me to return to Panopticon.

#8: Roads to the North (2014). I feel like I’m obliged to like this album more given its place as the second of a trilogy between Kentucky and Autumn Eternal (neither of which are present on this end of the list), but that relationship and inevitable comparison do the album absolutely zero favors. Roads to the North is an undeniably pretty album, being graced with crisp production and having been released after Panopticon really nailed their soundscape in Kentucky, and by virtue alone it is a pleasant journey to take. “The Long Road Pt. 3 (The Sigh of Summer)” in particular is a shimmering haze of post-y noodling that is a delightful space to inhabit. But on the whole, not unlike …on the Subject of Mortality, Roads to the North just feels forgettable, ephemeral. Its evocation of its naturalist themes feels less impactful than the stellar albums on either side of it, and besides a riff here or a folksy jaunt there, not enough material within Roads to the North compels much emotion or demands my attention. Nothing truly offends, and scant little dazzles. But it is nevertheless a beautiful-sounding album.

#7: The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness, Pt. 1 & 2 (2018). This was easily the most difficult album to rank. I absolutely adore this album on a conceptual level, as it features some of the band’s most aggressively environmental theming that ought to pair beautifully with the Panopticon soundscape. In particular, a B-Side of primarily Americana/folk music should be a slam dunk after what we’ve heard Panopticon do before, but overall, there’s a sense of wasted potential. There is a lot to enjoy throughout the two-hour Scars of Man. While the heavier A-Side isn’t the most memorable of Panopticon’s work, there are some decent moments in “Blåtimen” and “Sheep in Wolves Clothing,” and the closer “Snow Burdened Branches” genuinely might be my favorite Panopticon song. The B-Side does start strong with the beautiful, post-heavy “The Moss Beneath the Snow” and the folksy “The Wandering Ghost,” but ultimately the B-Side lacks variety and suffers from poor pacing as a result. It is very pretty Americana, as always, but it begins to feel dry and meandering by the time it ends. As a whole, Scars of Man has enough strong points (and one of Panopticon’s best songs) to not place lower, but there are a few too many cracks scattered across the surface to keep it in these lower rungs of the ranking.

#6: Collapse (2009). And now we’ve hit the first album in the ranking where I can say that I just like it with practically zero qualifiers. Panopticon’s sophomore album is less dynamic and far blunter than what came directly before and after it, but it finds a singular and engaging focus on sustained aggression across its few, lengthy tracks. The use of sampling and voice recordings is also tastefully done, jamming most of it in the beginning of “The Death of Baldr and the Coming War,” with a cacophony of politically charged adverts about the Bush administration leading right into some filthy black metal. Indeed, Collapse is a particularly nasty cut of black metal within Panopticon’s discography, not quite yet striking the balance between light and dark tangible in latter-Panopticon. Funnily enough Collapse is also the first time we hear some good ol’ Americana, which is always welcome! The raw, nastier emotional tone of Collapse would be explored with a little more richness in Social Disservices two years later, but I really like the blunt nature of Collapse and its oppressive, absolute sonic discord. Even with only four long tracks that don’t cover all that much ground, Collapse does a hell of a lot with what it has, making for an impactful and enjoyable album.

#5: …and Again into the Light (2021). I’ve poked and prodded at this list ad nauseum, and now that I’m gazing at it from a bird’s-eye view, it genuinely blows my mind that this album ranks only at #5. …and Again into the Light is an absolute beast of an album. While not as suffocatingly dense as Social Disservices or Rime of Memory, in my mind I tend to classify …and Again as Panopticon’s heaviest album. This is Panopticon at their most vulnerable and exposed, as the music evokes a consistent and desperate outcry of feeling. The brutal beatdown of “Moth Eaten Soul” or the visceral climax of “Know Hope” conjure such moving heaviness that lingers across the whole album, which is made all the more powerful in its contrast with the long passages of a somber, folksy atmosphere. This heaviness in conjunction with such sweet sorrow make “Dead Loons” and “The Embers at Dawn” some of Panopticon’s best. …and Again into the Light is maturely and honestly written, a perfect window into the heart of what is so special about the music of Panopticon. The only reason it doesn’t rank higher is because the following albums appeal more to my own specific and inscrutable tastes. That an album like this is at #5 is a testament to how goddamn good Panopticon is, frankly.

#4: Social Disservices (2011). My first listen to Social Disservices was a confused one, because it stands out with its distinct theming. It’s no less emotionally intense than your usual Panopticon, but the tone paints a picture that is more urban than naturalist. Less the wintry chill and more the rough indifference of brutalist concrete, like the industrial sounding drums over buzzing guitars in “Subject.” It drips with malice, eschewing melancholy for dissonant violence in the harsh screeches of infants in “Client.” Yes, my first listen was confused, but every subsequent listen has sunk the hooks in deeper. It’s an uncompromising aural assault of heavy riffs that wouldn’t be (almost) matched until …and Again into the Light, rounded out with the usual undercurrents of beauty. Social Disservices is well-written in a way that makes the most out of this uncharacteristically sadistic atmosphere, offering barely enough room to breathe amidst the tide of brutal riffs. It’s an extremely intense and absorbing album that is unquestionably Panopticon, but a Panopticon quite unlike anything before, and mostly since.

#3: Kentucky (2012). This is basically the Panopticon record. Everything about the Panopticon sound crystallized in Kentucky, from its strong environmental theming conveyed through ancient voice recordings, the lively yet somber Americana work-songs bookending the heavy tracks, and beautiful but crushing post-black metal. Like many people, I imagine, this was my gateway to Panopticon, and it’s a wonderful album. The tragic narrative undercurrent of the injustices suffered by American coal miners is one of the most cohesive and effective narratives Panopticon has crafted. “Bodies Under the Falls” and “Black Soot and Red Blood” are dynamic epics, weaving black metal beautifully with the Americana passages, both within the tracks themselves and without. Kentucky is all just so painstakingly constructed with every element effortlessly balanced against each other. To this day, when I get a craving for Americana or bluegrass, I throw on “Come All Ye Coal Miners.” It’s at number three for me just because I’ve always felt the pacing dips a smidge through the decision to end Kentucky on the concurrent slow tracks “Black Waters” and “Kentucky,” but it’s a non-issue in the grand scheme. Kentucky is iconic, and always will be.

#2: Rime of Memory (2023). I purchased this album directly before my first trip to Austria, in December 2023. As my fiancé and I drove through the Austrian Alps from Salzburg to Zell Am See, we listened to Rime of Memory as night descended. The snowy mountainsides were streaked with shades of blackened blue as “Winter’s Ghost” traversed its steel-string crescendo, encroached upon by the jagged shadows of the pines as the guitars shift to blistering aggression; put simply, it was a fucking transcendent listening experience, and it’s given me the kind of perspective of an album that never quite leaves. Rime of Memory strikes a similarly dense emotional and sonic maximalism that I associate with Social Disservices, with the more robust folksy atmosphere of latter-Panopticon enriching the sound. Rime of Memory is a visceral and nigh-constant blizzard of noise, creating a rich and tactile atmoblack experience supported by some of the strongest material I’ve heard from Panopticon. The somber, languid acoustics that open “Winter’s Ghost,” the raking violins erupting from “Cedar Skeletons,” the crooning lead guitar melody of “Enduring the Snow Drought;” these moments, and more, of aching beauty stand like beacons of blue against the white, alighting the music with feeling. One might argue that Kentucky is the more important album, but this is the one I reach for more eagerly.

#1: Autumn Eternal (2015). This was not an easy choice to make, since Panopticon’s albums are all quite different from one another. They all occupy unique spaces, scratching a different itch with varying levels of efficacy. After agonizing over it, I realized that the unique elements that comprise Autumn Eternal just feel the most, well, right. Some of the sound’s harsher edges have been smoothed out without losing that black metal bite, creating a moving album that feels kinder, more forgiving than it’s counterparts. As a result, a stronger emphasis on melody shines through from the very first moments of “Into the North Woods.” Across Autumn Eternal, this warm melodicism becomes intoxicating, pairing like a fine wine with the album’s diverse array of songs. The riff-heavy “Oaks Ablaze,” the gorgeous escalation of “The Winds Farewell,” even the harsher “Pale Ghosts” and “Sleep to the Sound of Waves Crashing;” no matter the mood, the music radiates warmth and takes on an almost moss-like texture. As alluded to earlier, this is the end of a trilogy, but even without that context, Autumn Eternal wields finality with elegance in the sublime “The Winds Farewell.” It speaks to a powerful album that is both emotionally challenging and accessible. Autumn Eternal is the perfect blend of warm tremolos and windy acoustics, of hopeful melodies and sorrow-tinged atmosphere; it is the apotheosis of Panopticon’s songwriting in conjunction with its themes and soundscape. In other words, to my ears, this is the best version of Panopticon.

AMG Official Ranking

Possible points: 30

#10. On the Subject of Mortality (2010) -5 points

#9. Panopticon (2008) – 8 points

#8. Collapse (2009) -9 points

#7. Social Disservices (2011) – 17 points

#6. Roads to the North (2014) -18 points

#5. The Rime of Memory (2023) -19 points

#4. The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness (2018) – 20 points

#3. …And Again into the Light (2020) – 21 points

#2: Autumn Eternal (2015) – 22 points

#1. Kentucky (2012) – 26 points

 

The Angry Metal Discord Speaks (and for some reason we listen)

#10. The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness (2018)

#9. Panopticon (2008)

#8. Social Disservices (2011)

#7. On the Subject of Mortality (2010)

#6. Collapse (2009)

#5.Roads to the North (2014)

#4.The Rime of Memory (2023)

#3. …And Again into the Light (2020)

#2. Kentucky (2012)

#1. Autumn Eternal (2015)

 

Check out the below for our favourite Panopticon cuts*; as if Panopticon music can really be enjoyed fully in isolated snippets…

* I really really wanted to add “…Speaking…” from Panopticon to this playlist, but the album isn’t on any streaming platform. So I’m putting it here:

#2025 #AmericanMetal #AMGGoesRanking #AMGRankings #AtmosphericBlackMetal #Aug25 #BlackMetal #Folk #MareCognitum #Panopticon #USBM

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:

#AMGGoesRanking #AMGRankings #Archspire #BlogPosts #CannibalCorpse #Carnifex #CattleDecapitation #ChelseaGrin #Deathcore #Deftones #JobForACowboy #Meshuggah #Metalcore #Nile #Sodom #SuicideSilence #TheAcaciaStrain #TheBlackDahliaMurder #Tool #Whitechapel

Opeth from Worst to Best: 13-9

By Angry Metal Guy

On the 22nd of November, Opeth will release full-length number fourteen—which we have already reviewed, if you have not seen it. We sometimes “go ranking” here at Angry Metal Guy, but in the case of Opeth that just doesn’t convey the profound influence the band has had or the depth of the personal relationship that I—Angry Metal Guy—have with one of Sweden’s greatest metal and progressive bands. It is therefore in the spirit of the Iron Maiden from Worst to Be(a)st that this particular incarnation of the rankings has been conceived. But this time, I have invited El Cuervo to tag along. Enjoy this trip down memory lane. I look forward to fighting with you in the comments.

Angry Metal Guy

For me, Opeth played a major role in my development as a metalhead, as a fan of extreme metal and prog, and, of course, as a guitar player and songwriter. And they’re probably the band aside from Iron Maiden that I have called my favorite band most frequently throughout my life. While my fandom most certainly peaked around Ghost Reveries—having seen the band at least a half dozen times between their first US show at Milwaukee Metalfest and moving to Sweden myself—they continue to play a major role in how I think about music and how I interpret the modern metal scene.

On a personal note, I have also had the privilege of getting to spend time with the band in various ways. The first Swede I ever spoke Swedish to was Peter Lindgren, though I hardly knew a word at the time. I was recommended the absolutely legendary—to the point of being a cultural joke in Sweden—Jazz på svenska by Mikael Åkerfeldt on a bus one time when we were talking about folk metal. I once explored the basement at The Rave in Milwaukee with Fredrik Åkesson (then in Arch Enemy),1 Eric Hersemann (Gigan, ex-Hate Eternal), and my friend, the late Adam Sagan (Witherfall, White Empress, Circle II Circle, among others) on my birthday before I moved to Sweden. Since being in Sweden, I have become friends with the estimable Martin López of Soen, which I never imagined would happen.

All of this is to say that my connections to Opeth both emotionally and musically are stronger than just about any band in the world. That said, I don’t think that I have as nearly a so idiosyncratic view on Opeth as I did on Iron Maiden when I wrote the Worst to Beast posts. Unlike Iron Maiden, I was part of the metal consensus at the time that Opeth was releasing its most iconic material. I was swept away by Blackwater Park and was bummed when they announced that death metal was for losers before releasing Heritage. I have been on this rollercoaster ride in a way that I wasn’t for Maiden. And I love these guys and all the joy their music has given me over the years. Even as I’ve gotten older and more jaded about Åkerfeldt’s schtick, I can remember a time when I could say in all honesty that I could happily put their entire discography on shuffle and I wouldn’t have encountered a bad song. So, this is going to be an interesting exercise.

As usual, I have created tiers. So let’s start with…

Foregopeth

#13. Heritage (2011). “Heritage is full of great riffs and ideas, but not many very good songs,” I wrote in 2011 as I fearfully gave Heritage a 2/5—disappointing. Not only do I think I probably overrated the album, but I’m no longer afraid that people are going to think I’m just one of those people who think Opeth couldn’t write a good record without growls. So, I’ll be even franker than I was at the time: Heritage is bad. And the frustrations I have with the record are twofold. First, the thing that made Opeth sound like Opeth was the blending of different styles into through-composed tracks that felt utterly seamless. Heritage upended that—though this problem is part of why Watershed ranks as low as it does, too—and instead placed all its bets on an approach to songwriting that feels, nearly 15 years later, just as lazy (or rushed) as it did in 2011. I get this strong sense that Åkerfeldt was using keyboards as an overly expedient way to accomplish what surely took a lot of time on earlier albums; transitioning between disparate ideas that were not written to be played together initially. It’s like Åkerfeldt and Åkesson were just sitting on the studio floor picking riffs out of a hat and then saying to Per: “Yeah, so, just make up something to get us from Point A to Point B.” So while there are, as I said in the original review, excellent parts on Heritage, the whole is so much less than any individual part taken in isolation. Ultimately, Heritage is disjointed. Even if I liked individual songs or moments—I’m a sucker for that Swedish folk feel that they were going for here and have played with since—this album doesn’t stand on its own.2

#12. Sorceress (2016). One of the accusations lodged against critics of post-Watershed Opeth is that anyone who’s critical is just mad that they aren’t playing death metal anymore. While I liked Sorceress quite a bit when it was first released, this album has not aged particularly well in my ears. There are two primary reasons that it’s ended up being a letdown. First, as I pointed out at the time, the production was muddy, and when combined with the band’s “dedication to the blue note,” it ended up feeling like the most intentionally retro album that Opeth has ever released. But second, given that the album is quite angry—and given its ostensible oblique references to Åkerfeldt’s divorce, there’s an angry vibe here—Sorceress is the record where the accusation that critics don’t like it because it’s not death metal feels the most accurate. Moving away from metal makes Newpeth feel toothless at times. While Axe drops double kicks and Åkerfeldt drops Åkeriffs that seem at times reminiscent of the heavier material from Deliverance or Ghost Reveries, they just don’t usually punch through. When the band cranks up the intensity, that dog is all bark and has no bite whatsoever. With that in mind, I would probably downgrade this from very good to good, as I still enjoy it. And when these guys hit peaks—I like “Sorceress” quite a bit, but the real highlight for me is “Chrysalis”—I still enjoy this album. The songwriting is enjoyable, but it doesn’t quite carry with it those qualities that make the best Opeth records the best.

#11. Watershed (2008). Watershed marks the first time that I disliked an Opeth album. While Ghost Reveries took me time to appreciate, Watershed was a record that it has taken me nearly 15 years to come to appreciate. I want to take you back to 2006 when Opeth was on Gigantour. Ghost Reveries had been a huge breakout hit for Roadrunner and Opeth toured like crazy. A friend of mine and I had gone to see Gigantour in Milwaukee and had been given passes by then-guitarist Peter Lindgren. I asked how they were doing, and he told me that they had been touring like crazy, that the band was super tired, and that their label had been pressuring them to get into the studio directly after Gigantour was going to end. He told me that they weren’t ready at all, that they’d had only a couple weeks home, and that there was no way they were going to be able to produce something good with that kind of pressure. Watershed was a spring release in 2008, Opeth played its final show of the Ghost Reveries tour in Italy on the 18th of December, 2006. That means that the Watershed was likely finished in January of 2008,3 giving them less than a one-year turnaround after a grueling schedule in 2005 and 2006, where they played nearly 230 live dates. And I think you can hear it on Watershed.

Watershed sounds (to this day) like a record that was written and produced by a very, very tired Mikael Åkerfeldt. Peter Lindgren, unsurprisingly, left the band in May of 2007, leading to Fredrik Åkesson’s debut on this album. As well, Martin Axenrot joined on drums and despite having played in the band since 2006, had not yet caught up to Lopez’s superb groove and feel. And Watershed sounds rushed. This is the most obvious in the fact that it is loaded with uninteresting, jarring transitions—which I generously referred to as Frippism’s in my review of Sorceress, but which I never found to be as mad or well-conceived as King Crimson. Between the jarring transitions, the studio tricks,4 and the sense that there was just a lack of enthusiasm for death metal throughout, I never understood why Watershed is considered by some Opeth fans to be such a masterpiece. When I initially bought the album, the cover version of “Den ständiga resan” was the song I liked the most. With time, I have softened on Watershed. There are moments of greatness scattered throughout, “Porcelain Heart” was a good single—and I love the clean vocal harmonies before the classic melancholic solo and the acoustic part—and “Burden” was a cock rock song, but it was a good one. I’ve often felt that with another six or nine months to percolate, Watershed would have been a better record.

Mediopeth

#10. Deliverance (2002). It should come as no surprise that Deliverance is now understood to be an album where Opeth was riling in deep drama. Following the huge breakthrough of Blackwater Park, they were on a tight schedule and Åkerfeldt—in an act of supreme hubris—decided he was going to write not one, but two albums. And while that was a choice he could’ve made, it wasn’t a choice he had to make, especially given the kind of quick turnaround that they were on. On top of that, as the story goes, they entered the studio with essentially nothing ready to go. What transpired was an absolute nightmare of a recording session that would wound the band deeply and I have understood from what has been written in other places that it was sort of the beginning of the end of the band’s most iconic lineup.

And yet, Deliverance—while displaying some chinks in the armor for the first time in the band’s career—was still an absolutely wonderful, enjoyable success.5 Spawning classics like the title track—which makes fans squeal like pigs every time Opeth breaks it out—and “Master’s Apprentices,” which in retrospect feels like a preview of the style that Ghost Reveries would perfect, Deliverance was a record that reeked of greatness even when it was the result of one of the most absurd Night before the Test Cram Sessions that the world has ever seen. Being the worst of the band’s best material is a bit like playing in the Champions League,6 no one should doubt that you’re great. Shoutout to the clean part and the melodic solos in “By the Pain I See in Others,” I see you.

#9. In Cauda Venenum (2019). While not Oldpeth, In Cauda Venenum is a tremendous and interesting album of its own accord. Sure, in some ways, it continued the Sorceress journey toward feeling like a band out of time—lots of blues scales and that Bill Ward swing showing up throughout (“De närmast sörjande”). And yet, In Cauda Venenum is just such a thoughtful and fun record. And yes, I suppose that part of that has to do with the fact that I speak Swedish and so I was able to be charmed by the old interviews with Swedish children about God and death, but that’s reductive.7 The reality is that while Sorceress had a hard rock vibe to it, In Cauda Venenum felt like genuine prog; like Opeth was finally getting really good at working in the space that they had been trying to work in since 2011.8 Not only that, I have trouble seeing how people don’t just adore “Hjärtat vet vad handen gör” or “Minnets yta,” which find Opeth flexing muscles that I didn’t know they had. Or “Charlatan” which flexes old muscles in new, unique ways, and feels influential to the direction that The Last Will & Testament went. So, rather than feeling like a modern band making an old style of music, In Cauda Venenum oozes Opeth’s unique voice and charm—and this time, its lyrics weren’t scribbled on toilet paper between guitar takes. That sense of coherence is a feature hard to argue for when records like Watershed contain lyrics like “Do children cry / When mommy dies / And later in their lives / Will they throw their hands to the sky?” or whatever9—is part of what makes it such a strong record. In Cauda Venenum is a great, diverse, and thoughtful record and I think I like it more today than I did in 2019.

El Cuervo

#13. Heritage (2011). Heritage enjoys the dubious honor of being the only Opeth release that I don’t return to at all. Significant volumes of ink have been spilled on the dramatic divestment of death metal on this record, even if it also represented a natural progression onward from the remainder of their discography. Nor do I feel the need to justify my enjoyment of non-metal prog; anyone remotely familiar with my music tastes knows that 70s prog is my musical home ground. Where Heritage falls is in its fragmented songwriting and album flow. One of Opeth’s best qualities is their capacity to write music that feels seamless, even if the transitions are sometimes dramatic. But Heritage introduces variety without harmonization; songs that stand apart from each other and feel less like an album. It sounds more like a compilation of interesting but perverse musical ideas deliberately directed at fans expecting more death metal. It’s by some margin the weakest Opeth album.

#12. In Cauda Venenum (2019). I stand by the 3.0 I bestowed on In Cauda Venenum. It’s one of the most varied albums in the Opeth discography, perversely resulting in one of their least predictable albums at a late point in their career. But while the bottom entry of this ranking overspills from variety for its own sake, In Cauda Venenum offers a smart harmonization of varied sounds, tones, and instruments. Sadly, although Opeth achieve more than most across multiple long albums, this album suffers the worst for this quality as I find it tough to digest in one entire sitting. In an art form where the purpose is for the listener to experience a collection of songs in a particular order and without breaks, I struggle here. I also find it to be less memorable than other Opeth albums. Ask me to hum a tune from this one and I struggle to do so, which consigns it to this position in my ranking.

#11. Sorceress (2016). Never satisfied standing still, Sorceress sees Opeth striking out from a predecessor marked by its dedication to one particular sound (Pale Communion and 70s prog) while nonetheless remaining a natural successor. Åkerfeldt’s trademark approach to progressive rock here finds new bedfellows in blues and Swedish folk, from the fat grooves to the whimsical flutes. This forges a sound that remains unique in the band’s career, especially when presented with production that evokes the band wallowing in a muddy pool. The bubbly bass, robust drums, and bluesy guitars each rely on a warm, fuzzy tone that’s deeply indebted to (non-progressive) 70s rock, almost reaching the heady haze of stoner music. Sorceress doesn’t enjoy equal quality throughout, with clearer highlights and lowlights than most other Opeth albums, but it undoubtedly improves with repetition. And though it may not be my favorite Opeth release, I’ll be damned if it isn’t their best artwork.

#10. My Arms Your Hearse (1998). I suspect there will only be two real surprises on this ranking. The first is where I placed Blackwater Park (“Why is it not at the top you FUCKING IDIOT”). The second is where I’ve placed My Arms Your Hearse. It’s a low-key fan favorite and regarded by many as a crossing point, from Opeth in their rougher, blacker days to Opeth in their tighter, deathier days. It demonstrates the band smoothing over some of the rawer cracks from their earliest material, and compiling their core fusion of extreme metal and progressive rock into the smart, knotty compositions for which they would achieve acclaim. It’s a clear precursor to the band that would come to define progressive extreme metal. And yet it doesn’t stick with me as much as their competing material. It’s bleak and heavy – arguably their heaviest record overall – but hadn’t quite found that perfect blend of lightness to counter-balance their heaviness. It’s just shy of greatness.

#9. Morningrise (1996). While its predecessor Orchid is no stranger to long songs, Morningrise stretched this young band to its limits with expansive, progressive compositions, including the longest song in their discography: the inimitable highlight titled “Black Rose Immortal.” It’s a record with fabulous moments but most tracks become meandering and drawn-out. And despite the general trend towards softer, balanced production through Opeth’s discography, Morningrise has a thinner, reedier texture than Orchid, positioning it closer to black metal than any other Opeth release. As much as I enjoy black metal it doesn’t quite fit their aesthetic for me, even if this texture lends it a unique feel in the band’s catalog. Despite its shortcomings, I still find Morningrise an entrancing experience; the detailed compositions, lengthy songs, and cyclical leads engender a rich atmosphere that feels unlike anything else. It was also the first indicator that Opeth was a band constantly seeking development and I will always commend progression.

#AMGGoesRanking #AMGRankings #BlogPost #Camel #DeathMetal #Goblin #JethroTull #MorbidAngel #Opeth #ProgressiveDeathMetal #ProgressiveRock #StevenWilson #SwedishMetal

AMG Goes Ranking – The Black Dahlia Murder

By Dolphin Whisperer

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 nay, a Google FORM 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…

The Black Dahlia Murder is a band I’ve had the honor of watching develop throughout its entire career. With its debut in 2003, an album that I think stands up much better than the chuckleheads below, the Michigan melodic death metal act has been with me for twenty years. I saw them opening for bands before anyone knew who they were, and I was buying each new release on release day. In 2024, The Black Dahlia Murder faces new challenges, moving on from the tragic loss of vocalist and scene giant Trevor Strnad and they will release Servitude on the 27th of September (that’s tomorrow, yes). So, before I unleash my Very Important Opinions™ on the world about the new full-length LP, we thought that a romp through the band’s discography seemed in order. Note that anyone who tells you that Ritual isn’t their best album is lying to you. – Angry Metal Guy

The Ranking(s)

Dr. Wvrm

#9. Unhallowed (2002). At first glance, you would be forgiven for thinking Unhallowed is by a completely different band. This album is three kids standing on each other’s shoulders and wearing a trench coat next to the other records in this catalog. But despite how far TBDM still has to go from this point, Unhallowed has its positives. Its take on 90s Gothenburg is interesting, if not always good, and it certainly doesn’t lack energy. “Elder Misanthropy” is the first entry into the pantheon of all-time TBDM jams, even if it’s a messy one. It’s a long way up from here for the boys from Michigan, but you can clearly see the seeds of what’s to come in this debut.

#8. Verminous (2020). That Verminous is the low point of modern TBDM despite being pretty good says quite a lot about the level of output this band has maintained for the last 20 years. The album maintains the reflexive phase started by Abysmal (more on that in a bit), feeling more like a down-and-dirty expansion of their ideas on Everblack at times. The execution, however, falls further down than I’d like. For a band with bangers aplenty, Verminous never finds its bonafide hit and feels stuck in first gear.

#7. Abysmal (2015). Don’t get me wrong—Abysmal features some of the strongest fretwork in TBDM’s catalog (with Ryan Knight still on board at this point, who is surprised by this?). But coming at the tail of an incredible four-album run, Abysmal’s return to hyperkinetic hooks and solos begins a third phase in the band’s catalog. Instead of pushing onward and outward from the progressive attitude of Everblack, TBDM refocuses and uses the lessons learned throughout their years of experimentation to revitalize their core sound. As a result, Abysmal feels more like a transition record between eras than anything else. In theory, it’s not doing too much differently from Deflorate, and unfortunately feels a bit stale by comparison. TBDM would find a way around the all-been-done-before feel by their next album, but with Abysmal, the retread weighs a bit heavier than you’d like.

#6. Miasma (2005). Miasma demonstrates instant growth over TBDM’s debut. If Unhallowed was a rough attempt at mid-90s melodeath, Miasma surges forward to the turn-of-the-century fusion of melodic death metal and mainstream metalcore production.1 Though they wouldn’t stick with this sound for long, there’s so much across Miasma to like, from the cleaner production and maturing songwriting to the charisma that is now starting to bleed through every facet of the music. Strnad’s famous dual vocals really come into their own here, and the rest of the performances aren’t far behind. Though there’s still one piece of the puzzle remaining, you can see the full picture starting to resolve.

#5. Deflorate (2009). This album proved not only that TBDM wasn’t a one-album wonder, but that they also weren’t a one-trick pony. Ryan Knight joined the band from Arsis and overnight launched TBDM’s lead guitar capabilities into the stratosphere. But what looked like Nocturnal on nitro on its face sees, under the hood, Brian Eschbach’s songwriting quietly started to push the boundaries of the band’s imagination and capacity. Closer “I Will Return” veers hard left from everything to that point, touching on patient development and melodic progressions in a way that we could have only guessed TBDM was capable of (“Warborn”). It may lack the highs of some other records, but Deflorate is where TBDM started to show the depths of their abilities.

#4. Everblack (2013). Those of you who know I love TBDM know why I love TBDM,2 and what I want isn’t in steady supply on Everblack. What is, however, is perhaps the pinnacle of TBDM’s exploratory songwriting and certainly the heights of Knight’s solo abilities (“Into the Everblack”). Everblack is a grower in a catalog of showers, operating in many ways like a prog death album in its attention to detail and willingness to fiddle with genre conventions. It’s also Strnad at his most diverse, leading an excellent full-ensemble performance from melodeath to straight death to black metal and back again. My personal predilection for beeg boi melojams is the only reason this isn’t placing higher on this list; on an objective quality scale, Everblack is aces.

#3. Ritual (2011). Now we’re talking. Everything up to this point had something holding it back for me, be it concept, style, or execution. Ritual is the first record on this list where any quibbles I have are so minor as to be unmentionable. Delivering on the promise of “I Will Return,” Ritual ain’t afraid to get a little weird. Off-kilter takes like “Den of the Picquerist” are exotic curios from a faraway land next to two prior records that spent 95% of their runtime turning your ass into tenderized steak. Here, a more interesting weapon of choice filters into the core proceedings of the record, with offerings like “On Stirring Seas of Salted Blood” providing the perfect chaser to the moonshine shot of “Moonlight Equilibrium.” This is the band’s most complete offering, giving you a taste of everything TBDM has dreamt up over their career, and I venture that Ritual would be one (or two!) spot(s) on this list higher… if I weren’t such a weenie.3

#2. Nightbringers (2017). But I am such a weenie.4 Is Nightbringers effectively Nocturnal with the world’s greatest spit shine? Sure is, and cui gives a shit? It’s got the most polished bow on it you’ll ever see. If you like riffs, and if you like hooks, and if you like them at the same time and in copious quantities, Nightbringers is all you’ll ever need. TBDM poured fifteen years of hard-won lessons and honed songcraft into revitalizing one of the most well-loved and well-regarded (by people with taste) albums in the genre. As such, it feels fresh and new and worth every second of your time, rather than like a lazy nostalgia mine. Most bands would be so lucky as to ape a classic album half as well as this, let alone have it be their own classic album. Speaking of…

#1. Nocturnal (2007). Simply put, Nocturnal is TBDM. This record is the culmination of every moment before it, to where every moment traces back. It was an instant star-maker at the time and a bonafide classic in hindsight. At the core of the band, when you strip off the years of experience and experimentation, the one constant is this sound. Like no other band, TBDM reclaimed the ’90s Swedeath buzzsaw riff and forged it anew in a bloodbath of nitro, horror-movie worship, and unfailing self-seriousness. As Nocturnal unfurls, each track seems certain to be impossible to top, only for the very next entry to do just that. Trying to pick just one Nocturnal song for a playlist (like the one below) invites an hour of “Well wait, what about…” That might not be the best reason to put an album (or two!) ahead of what is an unquestionably more well-rounded entry in Ritual, but it’s certainly the best reason to consider it among your favorite albums more than fifteen years later.

Dolphin Murderer

I don’t typically consider myself a fan of melodeath at large. But select acts that rest on what I would consider the more intense and/or techy side, Intestine Baalism, Arsis, Quo Vadis, Neuraxis, Anata, really grease my grumpy gears. And, among those, naturally, rests the oft-imitated, not quite-matched American giant The Black Dahlia Murder. I didn’t explore their catalog as they were first coming to light as I wasn’t allowed to. You see, I fancied myself a metalhead and all the -core kiddies liked bad music like Darkest Hour, All That Remains, Trivium, and The Black Dahlia Murder. So it took until sometime in my early 20s, sometime around Ritual, to even consider hitting this hallowed act. All because a cute girl with a forked tongue happened to be in my college public speaking class and wearing a sick The Black Dahlia Murder tee. Turns out she wasn’t into dudes. But I lucked into a different partner out of it all, one with sick riffs and vocal prowess that causes newcomers to think that these Michigan boys have two vocalists.

Riff in peace, Trevor.

#9. Unhallowed (2002). Armed equally with the weight of Carcass low-end harmonies and At the Gates Björriffs, TBDM hit the ground running with a gluttonous, thrash-loaded, melodeath pittin’ spree. This debut Unhallowed couldn’t have been more emblematic of the consistency that TBDM would embody throughout their career. As the start of a sound that would become part of the heavy metal dialogue, it’s really almost there in terms of quality. Strnad may not sound as comfortable in his shriek ‘em high and rattle ‘em low vocal attack, but with riffs as nasty as the latchkey turndown of “Closed Casket Reqiuem” and “Hymn for the Wretched,” he doesn’t always need to be the focus.

#8. Verminous (2020). Despite this release being the most recent of the bunch, it is also the one I recalled the least going into this ranking. When Verminous came to be it landed on my ears as a disappointment, though not necessarily a bad record. Frankly, I don’t think TBDM is capable of that. However, Verminous takes risks that other albums haven’t taken, like turning the classical lower-tuned harmonic riffs and scooping them closer to true thrash tones. Simultaneously, this allows stringslinger Brandon Ellis’ treble-focused leads to play about in a fashion that tiptoes the line between power metal cheese and melodeath flamboyance (“Godlessly,” “Removal of the Oaken Stake”). Couple that with Strnad essentially rapping at a couple of points (primarily in the percussive bounce of “How Very Dead”), and you’ve got a solid album after all with a few new wrinkles.

#7. Abysmal (2015). Similarly to Verminous, Abysmal crawls about specific production choices that highlight lead guitarist Ryan Knight’s neoclassical, virtuosic warbling. Namely, it’s louder and thrashier. While the album that came before it, Everblack, never wanted for more shred, its rhythm-focused drive—a more death metal-focused TBDM stance—did not allow sonic space for Abysmal’s inclusion of additional instruments like cellos and violins to have a place amongst the assault. Furthermore, with the increased focus on Knight’s playful prowess, each song includes easy-to-recognize marks of differentiation, whether it be a snappy intro (“Receipt,” “Abysmal”), a wicked solo (every song), or a Strnad-led crusher (“Re-Faced,” “The Advent”). It’s hard to get too much of Knight, Strnad, or TBDM when they’re this fun and tight.

#6. Everblack (2013). If you’re approximately my age, then certainly you’ve heard cries of TBDM ”not being metal” or “being metalcore.” Did you know that Metal Archives doesn’t even list metalcore as a past iteration of their sound?5 Well, if nothing to this point had convinced you, then Everblack would be the one to listen to. Listen, I’m not going to sit here and say you should like TBDM, but with Morbid Angel riffs crushing through slower-than-blast pace numbers (“Into the Everblack,” “Phantom Limb Masturbation”), bass rattle that won’t quick, and Ryan Knight still doing that “is he Yngwie or Greg Howe” shred to fusion-y blues thing, Everblack gives plenty of reasons why you TBDM is a death metal act first. Though the album starts a touch slow and runs long for an experience that subsists almost solely on riffs, it’s very hard to say that anything should go away. Just carve a little more time if you’re gonna jam this one.

#5. Deflorate (2009). Representing the ultimate crystallization of the TBDM sound to this point in their history, Deflorate is an absolutely consistent experience. In different hands, hands that have trouble crafting good songs, that might be an issue. But sticking true to the TBDM formula of harmonic overload, At the Gates / early-Carcass riffs, and Strnad giving a performance that no vocalist could match in this lane, Deflorate is also an easy-to-enjoy success. Notably, this is Ryan Knight’s first appearance (fresh from a stint with melotech legends in their own right, Arsis) at the helm of lead shred duties, which allows Deflorate to have a quality of guitar heroism that no album prior quite had. That’s not to say that past leadwork was subpar by any stretch, but when you hear the elegance of play on tracks like “Necropolis” or “Christ Deformed” against any of the solo breaks that came before them, it’s a whole different ball game. Ryan Knight kills it and keeps Deflorate from being just another riff-rippin’ TBDM album.

#4. Miasma (2005). From a very base stance, Miasma isn’t all too different in attack from the debut. But having already done it once at full-length, and even more on the road, TBDM took huge steps in the polish and tightening of their identity. In particular, the man, the myth, the legend Trevor Strnad steps into his role as the intensifier of already heavy-handed riffs with rolled snarls, bestial lows, and off-the-rails shriek sermons. From the lift-off of “Flies” to the narrative froth of “Dave Goes to Hollywood” to the artistic crackling of “Spite Suicide,” not a moment rings through where Strnad isn’t threatening the mic with a barely held-together glottal assault. I’ve noted on later-era albums that the acquired talents provided an extra panache to an already solid formula. Miasma, in its rawer and younger character, succeeds not through being smart and tidy but by executing TBDM’s vision of melodic death metal to the scraped limits of their abilities at the time.

#3. Nightbringers (2017). If Miasma sold the young and tattered vision that TBDM had of At the Gates riffs with campy and horror-tinged vignettes, Nightbringers sells the wiser version of it kissed by the fresh virtuosity of then-fledgling shredmeister Brandon Ellis. No riff wastes any time launching songs into chunked harmony, barked fury, and blistering solo-land. And despite the number of Björriff-forward tunes that TBDM has cranked over the years, each song here lands with its own weighty identity. Part of that is through Ellis’ neoclassically-cranked excursions that carry as much energy as any melodeath groove (“Kings of the Nightworld,” “As Good as Dead”). And, as with any TBDM outing, Strnad rips maniacally through macabre narratives with a brutal ease that possesses a memorability all its own (“Of God and Serpent, of Spectre and Snake,” “Catacomb Hecatomb” in particular). Truth be told, I’ve also spent more time with this album than any other in the TBDM catalog. When I acquired it, I was on the road more than any other time in my life, and this collection of melodeath bangers was my go-to on a sunless morning commute,6 where my weary eyes needed adrenaline to persevere. Nightbringers gives a dose that doesn’t quit until the last note.

#2. Nocturnal (2007). As much as I (and all the others here) have said the name At the Gates or Björriff7—a fate inescapable from simply the opening classic chord crush of “Everything Went Black”—it’s really the sneaking, tremolo groove Morbid Angel influence that rolls my eyes back on these hardest-hitting early TBDM numbers. This hefty American influence on the hooky and nimble Swedish sound allows monsters like “What a Horrible Night to Have a Curse” and “Of Darkness Spawned” to land with equal parts thrashy tumble and melodic sting. The addition of budding kit talent Shannon Lucas (ex-All That Remains) provides all the machine gun and tom-chattering rhythmic foundation for TBDM to excel in this realization of their early potential. Melodeath doesn’t get much more addictive than this…

#1. Ritual (2011). Well, at least melodeath doesn’t get more addictive than this until Ritual. But the craving that results from this crowning moment isn’t one of riff-indulgence, of fretboard mystery (okay, it is all of those things). Ritual has an atmosphere. The simple placement of dramatic cello lines at the onset signals a moodiness that continues through tones more bass-loaded and balanced than other efforts. I hate to praise engineer Jason Suecof for his work here as he ruined plenty of albums around this time.8 But everything here just works—the cut-ins to Knight’s wobbling and unpredictable axe action, the many layers of Strnad crisscrossing and connecting at group chants and shouts, the low-end weight which even propels the elevated basics d-beat ripping of “Den of the Picquerist.” Continuing to alternate between the Björriff, a churning groove, and a growing hyper-melodic attitude (“The Window”), TBDM finds more ways to hook with the same tools they’ve always had while adding subtle new elements. It’s eerie to listen to “Blood in the Ink” these days, though. Between the added tension of discordant violin lines, further swirling string accompaniment, and its all too real theme of ritual suicide, the foreboding closer is easily one of the best songs The Black Dahlia Murder ever penned. Ritual fades away in the closing echo of “Suicide is the only way out.” And it hurts. It hurt then because that kind of mental trap exists, and it hurts now because art and reality often reflect each other in the scariest and worst of ways. That intersection can breed great art though, and Ritual will live that truth so long as metalheads have ears.

Angry Metal Guy Staff Ranking

We’ve once again used our tallying magic to use a complex point system based on submitted rankings. Thank you to the staff who could offer opinions without words. You are treasured and valuable.9

#9. Verminous (2020)
#8. Unhallowed (2003)
#7. Abysmal (2015)
#6. Everblack (2013)
#3T. Deflorate (2009)
#3T. Miasma (2005)
#3T. Nightbringers (2017)
#2. Ritual (2011)
#1. Nocturnal (2007)

Angry Metal Discord Pile o’ Entitled Opinions

We did the same thing for our Discord users. They smell funny, but wouldn’t you know it, they like The Black Dahlia Murder too! Hopefully, you don’t agree more with this bunch though…

#9. Verminous (2020)
#8. Unhallowed (2003)
#7. Miasma (2005)
#6. Deflorate (2009)
#5. Abysmal (2015)
#4. Nightbringers (2017)
#3. Ritual (2011)
#2. Nocturnal (2007)
#1. Everblack (2013)

And what would this all be without a staff-curated playlist to accompany the celebra¬tion? Get to know The Black Dahlia Murder before their upcoming release Servitude, out September 27th, 2024 on Metal Blade Records.

#2003 #2005 #2007 #2009 #2011 #2013 #2015 #2017 #2020 #AmericanMetal #AMGGoesRanking #AMGRankings #Arsis #AtTheGates #Carcass #Carnosus #DeathMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #MorbidAngel #TheBlackDahliaMurder #TrevorStrnad #Xoth

AMG Goes Ranking – My Dying Bride

By Cherd

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…

The last time I went a’rankin’, it was for the impressive catalogue of disgustingly heavy and distinctly American, doomy death metal purveyors Incantation. We now turn our attention across The Pond to another legendary death doom band—heavy emphasis on the doom this time—that has existed almost exactly as long and has an equally impressive body of work to nitpick: My Dying Bride. Though both bands play “slower than usual death metal,” as the Brits in question have described it, in many ways their sounds couldn’t be more different. Far from grimy, My Dying Bride are romantics at heart. They’re the suave gentleman who shows up randomly at wakes, sidles up to the newly widowed and hits on them with macabre poetry like Gomez Addams wooing Morticia. Yes, they play death doom, but their gothic flourishes of piano and violin are elegantly crystalline. And as idiosyncratic as their music is, nothing distinguishes the band more than the unmistakable plaintive crooning of Aaron Stainthorpe.

If one were to name the top five most important doom metal bands of all time, they’d risk poser exposure by omitting these gloomy goths. Formed way back in 1990 by Calvin Robertshaw, Stainthorpe, Andrew Craighan and Rick Miah, My Dying Bride has since cycled through no fewer than 23 members across 34 years and 13 albums. Of the original lineup, Stainthorp and Craighan steadfastly keep the band alive and the bride in a perpetual state of near expiration. April 19th will see the release of their 14th LP, which I will be reviewing in the unfillable shoes of my beloved ranking partner and MDB superfan Grymm, but first, let’s revisit the last 13.

– Cherd

The Ranking

Cherd

#13: 34.788…Complete (1998) – I’ve noticed a fair bit of revisionist history around the metal interwebs when it comes to this album. Not only do people nowadays seem to give 34.788…Complete a pass, many say outright that it’s a great album that never deserved the backlash it got upon release. I’m just going to assume the folks making this declaration weren’t old enough in the late 90s to notice the slew of famous bands abandoning their winning sounds to chase trends. It’s no coincidence that My Dying Bride’s largely failed experiment was released the same year as The Smashing Pumpkins’ Adore. The vague electronics and messy softening of edges on both records bleed into each other sonically, down to Stainthorpe’s suddenly Corgan-ish vocals. And then there’s “Heroin Chic,” which was either a blatant attempt to capitalize on the rise of underground British trip-hop darlings like Massive Attack and Portishead, or a joke about them that failed to land. Thankfully, there’s material here that saves it from total ignominy, like the fascinating opener “The Whore, the Cook and the Mother” and the two closing tracks.

#12: For Lies I Sire (2009) – Twenty years and 10 records in, the law of diminishing returns began to drag the band down from behind.1 All the sounds that made them great before are still here, but their arrangement is uninspired when held up against the rest of their work. If one pretends this was the first MDB album, it holds up well enough, with “My Body, A Funeral” and “Fall With Me” standing on their own, but things begin to really drag with the tepid “Bring Me the Victory” and the record never fully recovers. Just as with Like Gods of the Sun, a major foray into new sounds was imminent, but Evinta would prove to be for hardcore fans only.

#11: Like Gods of the Sun (1996) – It’s almost inevitable after three straight innovative records that a band will begin to rest on their laurels. Nothing about fourth LP Like Gods of the Sun is bad. In fact, it starts promisingly with a sturdy front half featuring material that splits the difference between As the Flower Withers and Turn Loose the Swans. The problem is that as the album continues on, it becomes a bit of a slog. The songwriting, with the exception of the excellent “A Kiss to Remember” is a good notch or two below the band at their best. It’s clear by the time closer “For My Fallen Angel” ends that a fresh approach would do My Dying Bride some good. That fresh approach was coming. Unfortunately, it was 34.788…Complete.

#10: A Map of All Our Failures (2012) – We’ve hit that point in the ranking where a bunch of good-to-almost-great albums are all knotted together, like a writhing mass of koi rising to the pond surface, greedily gasping for food you may or may not have as you step to the water’s edge. A Map of All Our Failures is a clear improvement over the preceding For Lies I Sire. The doom and gloom feel less tired on songs like “The Poorest Waltz” and “A Map of All Our Failures,” and the band has settled nicely into the “Late My Dying Bride” sound. How long they can keep cranking these out is anyone’s guess, but here we are another decade-plus on from album 11, about to see how album 14 stacks up.

#9: Songs of Darkness, Words of Light (2004) – Proof that My Dying Bride don’t have to fall flat when introducing a significant shift in sound, Songs of Darkness, Words of Light is the band’s foray into atmo-death doom that leans almost post-metal at times. Song structures are noticeably different from the jump, with the hypnotic pounding of drums and ominous keyboards dominating “The Wreckage of My Flesh” until finally settling into the kind of stately riff we expect from the band two and a half minutes in. There are more spoken word sections than usual here, along with long stretches of pure atmosphere, such as the bass guitar accompanied soundscape in “And My Fury Stands Ready,” but highlights like “The Wreckage…” and “Catherine Blake” make this a solid addition to My Dying Bride’s body of work.

#8: The Ghost of Orion (2020) – This is one of the most straightforward doom records of the band’s catalogue. The morose tone is understandable given the band’s personal and professional challenges that led up to the release. The decision to double-track Stainthorpe’s vocals on all cleans may seem a bit odd, but it’s an aesthetic I think works, adding drama to an already great song like “To Outlive the Gods.” Sure, the more minimalist interlude songs could be shorter or cut, but I like the unhurried quality of the album as a whole. A solid effort for a band that had just turned 30 at the time.

#7: A Line of Deathless Kings (2006) – The main accomplishment of A Line of Deathless Kings is proving that My Dying Bride can make a stock-standard My Dying Bride record and it can still be very good. You’d be forgiven for thinking this was going to be a more death-oriented chug-fest after hearing opener “To Remain Tombless,” but the most memorable songs here bring the dee-double-oh-em DOOM, with gigantically sad cuts like “L’Amour Detruit” and “Thy Raven Wings.” Lyrically this is one of the more “Hey baby, come to this cemetery often?” releases by the band, although when it comes to that, it’s all relative.

#6: The Angel and the Dark River (1995) – Surprised to see it this low? I’m well aware that general consensus says this belongs anywhere in the top two or three slots when considering My Dying Bride’s output. Look, It’s a fine album, and unique in the band’s catalogue. It has some classic MDB cuts. I just don’t love it. Partly, this has to do with Stainthorpe not only abandoning harsh vocals completely, but also adopting a kind of yelping affect to his spoken/sung delivery that would take a few albums to iron back out. Partly this has to do with the bone-dry production. Plus, it doesn’t help that the band’s first truly bad song appears here with “Two Winters Only.”2 Still, “The Cry of Mankind” and “From Darkest Skies” are peak MDB, and the record is loved for a reason.

#5: As the Flower Withers (1992) – In the first blossoming of what would come to be called The Peaceville Three, Paradise Lost had already released two full lengths of a burgeoning, fundamentally British style of death doom when My Dying Bride joined their fellow Englishmen with their debut As the Flower Withers. Following close on the heels of Gothic, it was clear that My Dying Bride was cut from the same gloomy cloth, with …Flower… featuring similar crunchy death riffs and a harsh-vocals-only delivery. It still holds up as a great straightforward death doom record, with the back-to-back highlights of “Vast Choirs” and “The Return of the Beautiful” standing as the high point of the earliest Peaceville Three sound.3 The latter especially foreshadows the band’s stunning evolution that was to come, with its macabre violin and spoken word ending.

#4: Feel the Misery (2015) – I tend to really like My Dying Bride records when guitarist Andrew Craighan is the main songwriter, as the next two entries will attest to. He’s great at balancing the various sounds that make the band who they are without letting any dominate, which means there’s drama, but not supine-on-a-fainting-couch-with-wrist-to-forehead drama the band can sometimes veer into. There are great riffs and smooth transitions everywhere, and no band overview would be complete without songs like “And My Father Left Forever” and “I Almost Loved You.”

#3: The Light at the End of the World (1999) – After stretching into new sonic territory on 34.788…Complete to decidedly mixed results, The Light at the End of the World wasn’t just a righting of the ship, it was a refinement of the band’s signature sound into full maturity. While the return to form was welcome, it’s ultimately the sharp songwriting that makes this a great MDB record. Opener “She Is the Dark” sets the tone with its oscillating aggression and gloomy drama, but the meat of the album lies in the fantastic four-song stretch from the title track through “The Isis Script,” a personal favorite. After two lackluster releases, My Dying Bride were back, and their best was yet to come.

#2: Turn Loose the Swans (1993) – Elegiac. Sweeping. Intimate. Aaron Stainthorpe and company shocked the heavy music underground with a transcendent work of delicate atmosphere, forlorn clean vocals, and muscular death doom that could barely be expected after their debut. It’s amazing that such blown-open, cinematic songs could have so many corners and nooks hiding surprising sounds. Synthesized trumpets here, violin and piano there, a sudden shift in vocal delivery, and bookend tracks that featured no drums or guitar at all. Turn Loose the Swans is one classic song after another of stately melancholy, with “Your River,” “The Crown of Sympathy,” and the title track all in the conversation for greatest doom cut of the 90s.

#1: The Dreadful Hours (2001) – Every bit the musical journey that Turn Loose the Swans is, The Dreadful Hours comes out on top thanks to the superb songwriting and the fact that it contains the heaviest passages in My Dying Bride’s oeuvre. The one-two punch of the opening title track and “The Raven and the Rose” represent all the best aspects of the band’s gothic death metal, with echoing atmospherics, regal riffing, and Stainthorpe’s most vulnerable cleans and accomplished death growls in turn. From there the album settles into one emotional gut punch after another, each distinct enough that the 70-minute runtime passes without tedium, before culminating in a re-recording of the band’s debut record standout “The Return of the Beautiful.” There are those who consider this redundant, but I see it as proof that the band themselves sensed this one was special and required a symbolic act of consummation.

Grymm

As an impressionable teenager in the 90s, there were a lot of bands that pushed boundaries and carved paths that many would follow throughout the decades. Many have come and gone, drastically changed genres, or have gotten worse over the years. However, very few have not only followed their own downtrodden drumbeat, but resonated as loudly or deeply with yours truly as British doomsayers My Dying Bride. No one could encapsulate the varying degrees of sadness, whether that sadness is vigilant, bitter, triumphant, seductive, or just outright horny, quite like the Halifax sextet. Halfway into their fourth decade as a band, and with their newest, A Mortal Binding, just around the corner, today’s a great day to rank their discography.

#13. 34.788%… Complete (1998). This shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, but the reason it’s here may surprise some of you. First off, remix albums featuring only one band member don’t really count,4 and second, while it’s the least My Dying Bridey of My Dying Bride albums, it’s not that which puts it at the bottom. No, 34.788%… suffered from an extreme editing problem. A lot of these songs could punch harder if they’re trimmed a tad, like shaving the droning bit in “The Whore, the Cook and the Mother” by a minute or two, reducing the repetition in “Base Level Erotica” by a bit, and editing out eight minutes and four seconds of “Heroin Chic.” Those things would have made the album more palatable, not the sudden (and admittedly brave) about-face. As it stood, guitarist Calvin Robertshaw would quit the band immediately afterward, and MDB came dangerously close to disbanding.

#12. For Lies I Sire (2009). Ah yes, the album which trumpeted the return of the beautiful violins into the band’s repertoire. I remember that revelation being a big deal at the time, and I was looking forward to hearing them again. Sadly, those violins are the only thing memorable about For Lies I Sire, as other than the powerful opener “My Body, A Funeral” and immediate follow-up “Fall With Me,” it’s difficult to recall much of the album if I’m being pressed to name a moment besides those mentioned. While not terrible, it did suffer from being a bit too interchangeable within itself and the later-mid period releases.

#11. A Line of Deathless Kings (2006). Another album that suffered from a bit too much of running-in-place in terms of songwriting, A Line of Deathless Kings props itself up a little by containing quite a few bangers. “To Remain Tombless” is one of the best openers that My Dying Bride penned, which is no small feat considering that the ‘Bride are known for strong opening tracks. “Deeper Down” could get a good pit going, and “Thy Raven Wings” is a hell of a somber, powerful song featuring some of Aaron Stainthorpe’s best performances. It’s just all pulled deeper down by repetitive songwriting (“One of Beauty’s Daughters”) and the need for better overall flow (“The Blood, the Wine, the Tears”).

#10. The Ghost of Orion (2020). This… hurts to even talk about. To put it plainly, My Dying Bride was going through some majorly heavy shit during this time. Between one-third of the band leaving with little-to-no notice before the album’s recording,5 and Stainthorpe taking a step back from the band to care for his young daughter, who was struck with (and has since thankfully recovered from) cancer at the time, it’s a wonder the band was able to carry on at all. With “Your Broken Shore” and “Tired of Tears” carrying the heavy load on an album that was almost half-populated with interludes, The Ghost of Orion sounded like a band that just wanted to catch a break and recover from the most difficult of trials life threw at them.

#9. Like Gods of the Sun (1996). Easily the most accessible album in all of MDB’s historic career, it would also be the last to feature the band’s classic line-up before both drummer Rick Miah and keyboardist/violinist Martin Powell would jump ship. While a notable step down from their previous album, The Angel and the Dark River, tracks like the opening title track, “A Kiss to Remember” and “For You” demonstrated that MDB could hang with the best of them, with “For My Fallen Angel” remaining a classic closer in MDB’s catalog. But mediocre choruses like those in “Grace Unhearing” and weaker songwriting like in “Here in the Throat” and “It Will Come” dragged the album down considerably.

#8. A Map of All Our Failures (2012). When it first came out, I remember hearing A Map of All Our Failures all the way through twice, and never listening to it again due to being so bored by it. Over a decade later, I reapproached the album with fresh ears, and warmed up to it tremendously. Sure, while it sounded almost too similar to some of their most recent previous albums at that point, you can’t deny the emotional power of tracks like opener “Kneel till Doomsday,” closer “Abandoned as Christ,” and the ever-mournful “Like a Perpetual Funeral.” A gut-punch of an album that only shows itself over time and repeated listens.

#7. As The Flower Withers (1992). Of the three albums that would make up the genesis of “The Peaceville Three,”6 As the Flower Withers was hands-down the most outside-the-box debut. Slowing things down to an absolute crawl for most of the album, and featuring a session violinist in later bandmate Martin Powell, the Flower possessed some daring riff work (“The Forever People,” “Sear Me”), weepy melodies (“The Bitterness and the Bereavement”, the epic “Return of the Beautiful”), and a young Aaron Stainthorpe howling, lamenting, and growling like a wounded lover scorned (all of it). The only thing keeping this album from scoring higher would be the odd flow within the songs themselves, but there’s no denying the youthful exuberance or creative energy given off here.

#6. The Light at the End of the World (1999). My Dying Bride’s sixth album almost didn’t happen. With 34.788%… Complete alienating their fanbase and half of the original line-up gone at this point, it was up to guitarist Andrew Craighan to pick up the pieces, and The Light at the End of the World saw an angrier, darker, and hungrier My Dying Bride than we witnessed over the last three albums. A return to the band’s classic logo also saw a return of Stainthorpe’s growls, and he hadn’t sounded more menacing as he does on opener “She is the Dark” or follow-up “Edenbeast.” Calvin Robertshaw would reappear to close out the album on the third and final chapter of the “Sear Me” trilogy, almost capping off a fantastic return to their death/doom roots, and an underrated gem in their discography.

#5. The Dreadful Hours (2001). With (then-) new guitarist Hamish Glencross in tow, The Dreadful Hours would see the band dipping their toes into more progressive waters, while still retaining their trademark death/doom origins, with (mostly) impressive results. The self-titled opener remains, to this day, one of the most miserable openers the band has ever penned, with Glencross and Craighan trading off somber melodies and hefty riffs, and Stainthorpe sounding absolutely downtrodden and broken on the mic. “The Raven and the Rose” is a fantastic follow-up, with more ferocious riffing, and tremendous twin guitar melodies intertwined. Elsewhere, “My Hope, the Destroyer” would be a live staple for years to come. With the exception of the unnecessary remake of “Return of the Beautiful” (here called “Return to the Beautiful”), The Dreadful Hours would continue to bring MDB back from the brink of dissolution.

#4. Songs of Darkness, Words of Light (2004). Easily my favorite of their mid-period, Songs of Darkness, Words of Light saw the band truly gel in the songwriting department, especially between the riff and melody work of Craighan and Glencross. Between the somber atmosphere in opener “The Wreckage of My Flesh,” the fury in “Catherine Blake,” or the almost-aching delicate crooning over heaving riffs in “The Blue Lotus,” Songs of Darkness remains to this day my absolute go-to album from the Glencross years, and a banger of an album.

#3. Feel the Misery (2015). I was saddened and shocked in 2014 when word got out that Hamish Glencross was fired from My Dying Bride. However, when news that his replacement would be none other than co-founder Calvin Robertshaw, I approached their follow-up to A Map of All Our Failures with some trepidation. Feel the Misery was like a warm “Welcome Back!” from a dear, old friend, as all the elements that made My Dying Bride great were present and accounted for. Mournful melodies, dreary vocals, and a sad, wretched atmosphere elevated late-career classics like “And My Father Left Forever,” the beautiful “I Almost Loved You,” and the catchy title track. Granted, it would be the final album to feature Robertshaw or drummer Shaun Taylor-Steels, but it was great while it lasted.

#2. The Angel and the Dark River (1995). The impact this album would have on my musical tastes and love for doom metal can’t be understated. When this album first came out, I simply wasn’t prepared for the level of misery, heft, creativity, or beauty that The Angel and the Dark River contained. Between the somber elegance of “A Black Voyage,” the emotional heft of “Two Winters Only,” or the creative genius and masterful songwriting found in the epic opener, “The Cry of Mankind,” The Angel and the Dark River remains one of my all-time desert island albums, and must be experienced by anyone even remotely in love with doom metal or gothic music.

#1. Turn Loose the Swans (1993). I go back and forth between the top two albums in terms of what I classify as the very best of My Dying Bride’s discography. While The Angel and the Dark River has “The Cry of Mankind,” easily the best and greatest song My Dying Bride has ever penned and a cornerstone in gothic doom metal, Turn Loose the Swans pushed more envelopes and felt like a whole package overall. From the beautiful opener in “Sear Me MCMXCIII,” the sweeping epics “Your River” and “Crown of Sympathy,” to the somber and reflective closer, “Black God,” Turn Loose the Swans felt complete. It sounded like no other words needed to be said, no other notes had to be added or taken away, or any embellishments to be thrown in. There’s a reason why so many people have so many incredible memories of this classic (myself included), and that’s why Turn Loose the Swans deserves the top spot.

 

AMG’s Official Ranking:

Possible points: 26

#13: 34.788…Complete (1998) 2 points

#12. For Lies I Sire (2009) 4 points

#11. Like Gods of the Sun (1996) 8 points

#8. (tied) A Map of All Our Failures (2012) 10 points

#8. (tied) The Ghost of Orion (2020) 10 points

#8. (tied) A Line of Deathless Kings (2006) 10 points

#7. Songs of Darkness, Words of Light (2004) 15 points

#6. As the Flower Withers (1992) 16 points

#5. The Light at the End of the World (1999) 19 points

#4. The Angel and the Dark River (1995) 20 points

#3. Feel the Misery (2015) 21 points

#2. The Dreadful Hours (2001) 22 points

#1. Turn Loose the Swans (1993) 25 points

Please enjoy this complimentary playlist for the My Dying Bride beginner, featuring a pair of songs from each of their full-lengths, chosen with lots of love and just a little bit of lechery by Cherd and Grymm.

#AMGGoesRanking #AMGRankings #BritishMetal #DeathDoom #DoomMetal #EnglishMetal #MyDyingBride