One of the paradoxes of living in a large city is the tendency of its inhabitants to feel isolated despite being surrounded by millions of people. Something of a “water, water, everywhere but not a drop to drink” phenomenon. It seems—at least to me—that this theme frequently surfaces within the post-black metal subgenre. Callous Faulter was founded by J. Angus in Melbourne, Australia, in order to give sonic form to urban loneliness. Their mission statement is succinct and straightforward: “Modern life is hell and Callous Faulter provide the soundtrack.” And considering that this is a debut record, Callous Faulter is quite a potent soundtrack indeed.

If the weather where you live has become uncomfortably hot and sunny, Callous Faulter is more than willing to conjure dour moods and dismal days. This flavor of downcast post-black bears a passing resemblance to that of White Ward, but whereas White Ward tempers their bleak outlook with pensive, jazzy sections, Callous Faulter presents an unflinching and unrelenting emotional assault.1 Another way to contextualize Callous Faulter would be to hollow out Cave Sermon’s2 melodic textures and fill them in with Aversio Humanitatis’s dissonance and Altar of Plagues’s sinister, oppressive atmosphere. The structure of Callous Faulter comprises only two tracks (“The Isolationist” and “Ocean Views”), which are between 16 and 18 minutes each for a total runtime of 35 minutes.

Callous Faulter employs an extraordinary array of tools to kindle unease in the listener. Sometimes torpid, discordant guitar notes meld with slow, syncopated drum rhythms. Other times the guitars buzz and drone like an angry swarm of wasps, or clanging chords twist together with tremolos to form a grotesque melodic bouquet. All the while, blast beats intermittently pound away like a jackhammer to the nervous system. Speaking of drums, R. Stone’s performance is incredible. The contrast between the intensely complex rhythms and the minimal post-metal guitars and howled vocals does much to keep the compositions from fading into background noise. It’s particularly powerful when the drumming steadily ramps up in intensity towards the end of “The Isolationist” amidst a few stray screams like the last gasps of a drowning person before the song cuts off with a decisive snare hit.

However, Callous Faulter doesn’t always make the most of its lean runtime, particularly during the second track. “Ocean Views” begins promisingly with an energetic intro reminiscent of Dawn of Ouroboros, but towards the midpoint, it slips into a languid and repetitive loop that lasts far too long. In contrast, Callous Faulter utilizes repetition better in “The Isolationist” by breaking the ruminative reprieve before tedium can set in. Things do eventually liven up again in the final few minutes of “Ocean Views,” but not in a way that makes the listless stretch make sense in retrospect. Even so, this could be an instance of a record that might have been stronger if longer, since having so few minutes means that each one matters that much more to make an impression.

As bleak as Callous Faulter is, I can’t deny that it holds a kind of enigmatic allure, its desolate setting calling me back again and again. The first track “The Isolationist,” is a great proof of concept, while “Ocean Views” doesn’t quite hit the mark. As a whole, it doesn’t feel like Callous Faulter has enough time to thoroughly articulate what it wants to say, though there are certainly worse criticisms than wishing for more of it. There is plenty of potential here, and I will be keenly interested to hear Callous Faulter further expound upon this established style in the future. In the meantime, know that if you ever feel bereft of companionship where you live, you can at least count on this collective of misfits within the online community at Angry Metal Guy for support.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Gutter Prince Cabal
Websites: callousfaulter.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/people/Callous-Faulter
Releases Worldwide: June 1st, 2026

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Dusk have been at it for a while now, toiling in the shadows to scrape together an acid concoction of abrasive noise and screaming menace. But who hasn’t? Newcomers to the blog, or the metal scene in general, may not have enjoyed of the deep sadness of early-2010s underground metal, when the promo pit burst with bedroom black metal from a seemingly inexhaustible trove of men who owned a guitar and made up for their lack of talent, and bandmates, and vision by pure profligacy. Though we’re now blessed with far more in the way of interesting music, the Vardans of the world are still out there, now and again transformed by their toil into something worthy of remark. And the crisp mashup of industrial synthesizers and black metal intensity has been worth a listen for the last decade in which Dusk have operated. Now it’s worth a few more.

Bunker is the Costa Rican band’s seventh record, and sixth this decade, masterminded by the eponymous producer who has had the Dusk aesthetic down to a science; enveloping low-end rumbles, echoing synths, spares instructions for his attendant vocalist and string-slingers, and a grim sense of inevitability. With the sound palette sorted out, it’s up to Dusk’s compositional skill to make Bunker worthwhile. It’s all too easy for electronic music to lean heavily into repetition; the infinitely replicable nature of composition in the medium lends itself towards riding extended grooves while adding and subtracting new elements. While Dusk certainly use this to their advantage in the latter half of the album, Bunker is front-loaded with two exciting tracks that move much faster than their tonal palette would suggest. “BUNKER I” begins in noisy ambience before introducing an Author & Punisher beat as its other sounds warp and stutter. A sudden blast of tremolo picking by guitarist Implacable gives way to more complex industrial beats and a simple, martial guitar riff, and then it’s over, transitioning into the Anaal Nathrakh-meets-Bliss Signal “Bunker II,” which vacillates between electronic blasts and subdued keys, with a lonely sonar ping accompanying both. Neither element ever overstays its welcome, and just six minutes in to Bunker, I was hooked.

Dusk can pack detail into songs even when they’re allowed to stretch out, and Bunker succeeds on meticulous sound design. In the doomy, menacing “Bunker III,” Dusk re-uses beats and samples dozens of times, but never outright repeats the same combinations of elements, making full use of the tools available to them. Though the song is slow-moving, subtle crescendos, particular spacing of instruments across the sound stage, and slowly adjusting cutoffs that amplify the intensity of a clip of breaking glass combine to keep this reprieve interesting for as long as the first two tracks lasted.

At twenty-three minutes, Bunker is an exercise in restraint that pulls ahead of the band’s back catalog in part on the strength of its concision. These songs move through ideas quickly enough to never grow stale, but there’s also a nagging feeling that Dusk’s compositions are somewhat automatic; each new idea that the songs explore is a small one, introduced almost scientifically so as to see just what that little tweak will do in the context surrounding it. No bizarre riff, jarring melody, or impressive performance could maintain this paradigm. Bunker, like most records Dusk put out, is something of a mood piece, hewing closely to a particular exploration of what this industrial/black metal hybrid can be without producing standout songs that make the sound creatively compelling. I’m left wanting something a bit less well-considered, something vital that’s often difficult for me to find in electronic music.

Nevertheless, Bunker is a compelling introduction to Dusk for anyone who hasn’t encountered the group before, and it stands as a concise exploration of their sound. Its damp, brooding atmospheres contrast expertly with moments of screaming static, and it’s all bolstered by enveloping production. Among the band’s now lengthy back catalog, Bunker’s combination of concision and vision stands out, but it’s only the sum of its many intricate but unimpressive parts. For Dusk to break through, they’ll have to break their own carefully-constructed mold.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: duskvt.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

My Alpine install is complete.

Surprising absolutely no one that has known me for a while, I am running dwm.

What an amazing distro. I think I am probably going to move to Alpine full-time.

#alpinelinux #suckless #dwm #blackmetal #altarofplagues #nowplaying

Altar of Plagues.

The Sol EP is god tier Black Metal.

RIP 🤘

https://rateyourmusic.com/release/ep/altar-of-plagues/sol/

#nowplaying #blackmetal #altarofplagues #cork

Naxen – Descending Into a Deeper Darkness Review

By Dear Hollow

Last we met Germany’s Naxen, we were deep in the swills of the pandemic lockdown here in the States. Released in June of 2020, debut full-length Towards the Tomb of Times was a solid black metal affair that I gleefully awarded a 3.5 but just never listened to again. Not that it was bad by any means, but it did not have the staying power I expected. The trio exists in the cross-section of black metal, adhering to hints of melodic black and death metal, but is pure unadulterated black metal. As such, aside from the act’s adoration of alliteration, we’ve got ourselves a neat lil’ blackened number.

Naxen has been around the blackened block, having released alliterative albums since 2018, including EPs To Abide in Ancient Abysses, Of Fainting Faith in Futile Flesh, and The Perilous Path of Pain as well as 2020’s debut. If you know black metal, there’s really nothing terribly unique about Descending Into a Deeper Darkness, but that’s okay. Semi-raw, semi-dense tremolo and heavy guitar grooves dance about the ears with harsh rasps, while percussion varies between funereal plods and blazing blastbeats. United by a feeling of melancholy founded in more depressive interpretations, Naxen offers us a rock-solid black metal album that ascends its alliterative antecedent by an awful amount.

Comprising four tracks with lengthier compositions dominated by diminished chord progressions, songs are smartly composed and neatly executed. Naxen attacks with a blend of scathing and riffy, balanced by sustained melodic plucking that adds a beating heart to the mid-tempo attack. The melodic layers of guitar plucking in the closing portion of “Our Souls Shall Fall Forever” or the heart-wrenching melodic template of “Triumphant Tongue of a Thousand Swords,” for instance, make their respective attacks extremely memorable in the balance of melody and shredding punishment – seriously, the latter really provided the scratch to the brain I needed. These two are most solid, while the fluid movements of “To Writhe in the Womb of Night” revel in a Trist-esque tremolo buzz while shapes of vocals and melody emerge and submerge around it, including an immense percussive presence that feels nimble and pummeling in its necessary measures. The most traditionally punishing track is “A Shadow in the Fire – Pt. III (A Life Led by Loss),” more punky upbeat drumming colliding with barbed-wire tones of drawling guitar, stinging melodies, and rabid percussion fills.

There is little to complain about in terms of the album at large or Naxen’s performance, but it likely should go without saying that four tracks with massive track lengths require a fair amount of patience. As fluid and smartly composed as “To Writhe in the Womb of Night” is, for instance, its melodic approach does not hold up as well as “Triumphant Tongue of a Thousand Swords,” and it grows old quicker over nine minutes than the latter’s fourteen, while the melodies in “A Shadow in the Fire…” can feel directionless in comparison to its more crushing moments as well as its successor in the closing opus. As with its debut, Naxen exists in the shadow of the early 2010s black metal releases of the likes of Altar of Plagues, Svartidauði, or Wolves in the Throne Room, whose more protracted lengths added up to greater breathing room and dynamic growth for both contemplative and punishment, but it still requires a fair amount of patience to sit through.

Naxen will not change your mind about black metal, but they also don’t make any pretense about doing so. It’s black metal with a melodic sensibility and an ear for dynamic songwriting, nothing more and nothing less. The bookends are the undisputed highlights in expert balance of melody, crunch, and shred, although the relatively weaker middle portions feature neat punishment and fluid songwriting themselves. In the end, Descending Into a Deeper Darkness is far from mediocre, but its alliterative bad self doesn’t do its duty in decreasing black metal dread. If you are a black metal fan, dive deep into Descending Into a Deeper Darkness, never neglecting Naxen.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Vendetta Records
Websites: naxen.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/naxenbm
Releases Worldwide: May 3rd, 2024

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Why did Altar of Plagues have to call it quits? A truly impressive band with amazing output.

#blackmetal #altarofplagues #nowplaying