#ThursDeath this week is one of my favorite bands- I'm so psyched they have a new EP. This is 'Rotting Antefix' by Winnipeg's DEFENESTRATION, and the riffs on this thing will melt your face off. From the first the guitar snakes and screams from out of the churning, this one is really special. The pummeling of the drums, those crazy guttural growls- this fucker SMOKES.

Bandcamp: https://defenestration204.bandcamp.com/album/rotting-antefix-2

Qobuz: https://www.qobuz.com/us-en/album/rotting-antefix-defenestration/qb0ij5528yswa

#metal #DeathMetal #Winnipeg #Canada #CanadianBands #CanadianMetal @HailsandAles @wendigo @nnenov @rtw @guffo @AlfeeDee @ttntm @Kitty @c0m4 @flockofnazguls @swampgas @umrk @pephorror

The spirit of metal has always been transgressive. Even though the genre can no longer be epitomized by a group of men with long hair, wearing all black, screaming about Satan and death,1, there remains an element that threatens an established order or sensibility. This is most obvious in the sound itself, which apparently turns a majority of listeners away even as it attracts weirdos like us. But while we may roll our eyes at metal of any kind being dismissed as ‘just noise’ and ‘horrible’, there are some cases where we can acknowledge that the music in question really is very inaccessible. Then we’re confronted with that same transgressiveness non-metalheads face when they listen to less-extreme metal, and enjoyment—let alone qualitative assessment—becomes complex. So it was when I was faced with Dhrupad Anutpada (ধপদ অন$ৎপ&দ): Apophatic Ragas Of Non-Origination, the debut of Indian/Canadian act Nirriti whose intense blackened noise is paired with a philosophical theme that denies the occurrence of creation. Its heresy is every bit as transcendentally horrifying as it sounds.

Nirriti are fully committed to their unorthodoxy. As members of black/noise circle Kolkata Inner Order Propaganda—along with Tetragrammacide, Necrodeity, among others—the trio demonstrate a level of nightmarishness worthy of the circle’s proclaimed “esoterrorism.” Not only is the lyrical theme bizarre yet intriguing, but the music is some of the most oppressive I’ve ever heard. For context, after finishing my first play-through of Dhrupad Anutpada, I decided to listen to Portal to “wind down.” Nirriti’s use of guitar as something from which to make a shuddering wall of sound, from which the occasional dissonant tremolo scale creeps out, is somewhat similar to Portal’s. Here, this wall feels still more monolithic due to Dodecahedron-on-steroids percussive violence that breaks away from a cacophonous blast, only to smash any hint of quiet with cymbals. Omnipresent vocal reverb, that iterates nigh on every hellish roar into a multiplicity of frightening confusion and chaos, becomes the final smothering layer in Dhrupad Anutpada’s impenetrable shroud of horror.

Up to this point, everything I’ve said about Dhrupad Anutpada could be taken positively or negatively—a quirk of how we often discuss extreme metal. This cognitive dissonance is as central to the proper experience of the album as literal harmonic dissonance. Nirriti’s take on noisy brutality approaches the hypnotic as they infuse passages with a sense of repetition through just-audible repeating scales and the aforementioned flickering echoes of vocals (“Mandukya…,”2 “In the Hallways…”). This creates a viscerally chilling sense of a tape skipping or playing backwards, or of the dizziness you feel just before you faint. It’s strange, but such passages grip the listener more powerfully than those where the reverb and blackened sensibility soften to allow the riffs breathing room (“One Foot…,” “Glissando…”), though the latter do reset the sempiternal rhythm, and inject needed jabs of urgency at their best (“One foot…,” “Golden Yolk…”). The relentless drumming, often more prominent than the guitars, serves primarily as a propeller to churn up these waters, such that it becomes a perverse relief when it settles into a battering, crashing attack (“In the Hallways…,” “Golden Yolk…,” “Vilambit Laya…”); because you can at least count the blows.

Dhrupad Anutpada maintains a consistent level of intensity thanks to these constant, if sometimes subtle, fluctuations. Creeping guitar ascents (“In the Hallways…,”), a rhythmic syncopation between roars and drums (“Mandukya…”), and the sudden breaks into noise (“Glissando…”) or the comparative ease of dissonant death metal (“One Foot…”) keep one hooked, straining one’s ears to catch the nuances in this chthonic chaos. Nirriti display an impressive command of their craft, turning harsh vocals into a weapon of horror, wielding guitars like percussion and percussion like punishment. It’s clearly intended to overwhelm and unsettle its audience. The problem is that it’s perhaps too successful, Dhrupad Anutpada being so exhausting that it can make one feel physically nauseated. After many listens, once the initial shock has passed, it’s easier to spot the places Nirriti reuse their tricks, and the corresponding movements lose a little potency (“In the Hallways…,” “Vilambit Laya…”).

I want to believe Dhrupad Anutpada is as profound as it presents itself. There is something to be said for an album that so powerfully confronts and terrifies its listener—it is the very essence of metal and the heart of philosophical unorthodoxy. Yet Nirriti tread a touch too far into the formless abyss to reach all but the most dedicated acolytes of the heretical metal underground. Dhrupad Anutpada may open your mind, but it’s just as likely to send you scrambling, horrified, away from the nightmare Nirriti have unleashed.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Iron Bonehead Productions
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

After releasing debut LP Prodigy of the Grotesque in 2020, Canada’s Goreworm re-emerges from their burrow with follow-up full-length Miasmic Solitude. Prodigy of the Grotesque enchanted me when I ran across it a few years ago—sweeping guitars, slick bass grooves, and a deliciously vigorous percussive cannonade made for a tasty tech death treat. Now six years later, Goreworm has metamorphosed from the band that dropped Prodigy. Vocalist Jesse Suess and founding members drummer Sean Bruce and bassist Derek Gibbs bid adieu, leaving guitarists Jordan Estrela and Brent Moerschfelder to carry the torch. For Miasmic Solitude, Goreworm rounds out the ensemble with session drummer Robin Stone (Ashen Horde, Chestcrush), who flayed the skins on 2021 EP Plague of Shadows, and vocalist Robert Miller (Antheraea). With a revitalized crew and a fresh batch of jams in hand, can Miasmic Solitude worm its way into your heart?

Technical death metal can be a tough genre to craft thoughtful songs within. The most immediate hurdle is technical chops—if you can’t muster the dexterity to pull off instrumental mayhem, you’re sunk. Yet the ability to play at blistering speeds with robotic fidelity isn’t enough on its own; it’s merely the price of admission. To transcend in the genre as the best from Necrophagist, Obscura, and Archspire have, you need crystalline mechanics embedded within engrossing and memorable compositions. Goreworm’s brand of death metal lands amidst the likes of The Black Dahlia Murder, Vale of Pnath and Abysmal Dawn, sporting burly riffs played at head-spinning velocity with occasional splashes of neoclassical color. This, at least, ensures the price of admission has been paid in full.

Goreworm members old and new unleash the razzle-dazzle on Miasmic Solitude as they pump gallons of adrenalized ear candy into its compositions. Estrela and Moerschfelder beget a sinewy string section, uncorking spidery leads that dash along fretboards with muscle and venom (“Monuments to Murdering,” “Miasmic Solitude”). Moerschfelder pulls double duty on the low-end, too, clanging and banging with satisfying heft. I only wish he broke away more from playing under the guitars and locking into root notes. To be clear, this is a nitpick on style and not a comment on his ability to bring the thunder. It’s just that compared to Gibbs’ bass on Prodigy of the Grotesque, Miasmic Solitude loses a dimension that helped set Goreworm’s debut apart. Meanwhile, Stone supplies a magnificent performance behind the kit, unfettering smooth rolls à la Chris Adler (“Amor Vincit Omnia”) and hammer-smashing cavalcades that recall the ferocity of Cannibal Corpse’s Paul Marzurkiewicz fused with the grace of Dirk Verbeuren (“No Reprieve”). Robert Miller proves a capable vocalist, and though his performance isn’t particularly dynamic, he supports the music well and sounds credibly savage throughout.

Goreworm crackles with vitality throughout Miasmic Solitude, yet the entirety falls short of the promise of its performances. The production proves a mixed bag, allowing the guitars and vocals to shine at the expense of the drums, which sometimes cut through but often become muddled during furious blasts, obscuring the pop of robust drum tones I loved on the debut. Perhaps the intent was to thematically embrace what a cloudy, claustrophobic atmosphere achieves, shining the spotlight on a single focus at a time. If so, I can appreciate the attempt, but it fails to properly incorporate all the ingredients into what Goreworm is cooking. Besides the mix, the songwriting highlights Goreworm’s technical acumen without sharpening their hooks enough to reel me back in once the music fades. To be fair, Miasmic Solitude rips throughout its runtime and is a qualified neck-wrecker—I just don’t feel compelled to revisit it afterwards.

Ultimately, Goreworm exhibits a myriad of traits I love to hear in technical death metal. With a more well-rounded production and carefully honed compositions that transcend being platforms for flexing technical mastery, Goreworm bears all the potential to annihilate expectations. As it stands, after several listens through Miasmic Solitude, there’s no doubt that Goreworm possesses the prowess necessary to deliver on the technical front. I’m just unconvinced of the magnetism their material yields to keep me coming back past the pyrotechnics.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 12th, 2026

Protest The Hero are back.

The Canadian progressive metal outfit have announced their first new album in six years, Within, arriving this July. The band has also unveiled the album’s first single, "Mouthpiece.”

Details: https://metalinsider.net/video/protest-the-hero-announce-first-album-in-six-years-within

#ProtestTheHero #Within #Mouthpiece #ProgressiveMetal #CanadianMetal

When last we visited the Iron Kingdom, the frigid temps forced Holdeneye to don his special Arctic Wolf Fur Armor (providing +50% cold resistance). With the changing seasons, the climate has transformed into a desert under a scorching hot sun. These Canucks have been putting out classic-style heavy metal since 2011, though founders Chris Osterman and Leighton Holmes originally started the band under the moniker Twisted in 2004. Despite all that history, Shadows and Dust, their sixth album, will be just the second time they’ve graced these halls, following Holdeneye’s review of 2019’s On the Hunt. As prepared as Holdeneye was for the frigid setting of On the Hunt, his Arctic armor unfortunately could not handle the sudden increase in temperature. So I have come in his stead, donning my Hooded Cloak of the Dragon (+50% heat resistance) to travel the Iron Kingdom and report my findings.

On Shadows and Dust, Iron Kingdom remain defenders of the NWOTHM brand. With their instruments and voices, Iron Kingdom summon classic Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and Helloween. Much of what they offer is mid-tempo bruisers featuring energetic riffs and kit work. Opener “Defenders” proves to be the standard bearer for the mid-tempo stuff, with solid instrumentation and the catchiest chorus on the record. Iron Kingdom occasionally reach for Painkiller levels of thrash as well. The high-energy “Eternal Emperor” features some killer riffs and is so much fun it competes with the best in the genre. Only two songs fall below the four-minute mark (“Line of Fire,” “Dark Demands”), and these prove lean, mean thrash machines that inject the album with energy and momentum. Not that I frown upon the longer tracks. Iron Kingdom employs plenty of tricks to keep the music engaging, particularly energetic dueling solos from Osterman and Megan Merrick that are simply a blast.

The crew comprising this Kingdom prove themselves more than capable musicians. Osterman takes the traditional part of NWOTHM literally with a lively performance that mixes Bruce Dickinson and Michael Kiske. He hits the high notes, but has a light gruffness to keep songs from growing treacly sweet. Holmes provides occasional backup duty on some call-and-response portions. When he shouts “Fight or die!” in response to Osterman on “Line of Fire,” it’s just pure fun. Holmes also excels at the bass. This chosen weapon proves omnipresent thanks to the strong mixing, adding meat and groove to the underlying riffs. His terrific bass part on “Blood and Steel” turns that into a track highlight. Merrick and Osterman show off their stuff on the guitars, injecting the standard rhythm sections with some acrobatic fretwork that’s reminiscent of last year’s Helms Deep. Max Friesen handles kit duties with aplomb. His mid-tempo work keeps up a constant near-thrash level of energy to prime listeners for when songs do go to the next level.

Shadows and Dust shows a pretty significant creep in length compared to Iron Kingdom’s prior few albums. I believe this is the result of some slightly better song compositions, but also a little bloat. For the most part, these tunes don’t feel their length, but a few less memorable cuts do cause the record to sag. “Deadhouse Gates” threatens to kill the momentum mid-record as it becomes too repetitive in its final minute. Fortunately, “Line of Fire” comes to the rescue with a crucial momentum boost. Finale “Sacred Fire,” an epic in the vein of classic Maiden, also runs a touch too long, but manages to entertain for most of its seven-minute runtime. While Iron Kingdom don’t tread any new ground, Shadows and Dust nonetheless offers plenty of fun without any major missteps.

The Iron Kingdom has proved to be a worthy and fun place to visit. It’s far less expensive than the budget-breaking Magic Kingdom and far less brutal than the Steel Kingdom.1 Sure you can go back and spin classics like Keeper of the Seven Keys a whole bunch, but it’s also fun to hear some fresh songs in the genre from newer bands who know how to write a good lick or two. While the summer is so far shaping up to be another hot one, Shadows and Dust provides the perfect soundtrack to beat the heat. It’s that cool.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released (NA) / Steel Shark Records (EU)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Since opining on thrash metal’s 2026 resurgence in Nukem’s The Grave Remains review, a steady stream of thrash clans have continued to trickle into the promo sump. Next up is Vancouver power trio W.M.D.,1 short for When Minds Develop. Formed in 2015, W.M.D. unleashed debut Lethal Revenge in 2018 before losing all but one of their founding members—guitarist and vocalist Skyler Mills. After recruiting bassist Jon Power and drummer Ryan Idris in 2023, this wrecking crew set to write and record their sophomore opus Against All Warnings. Eight years is a long time between albums, and turning over nearly the entire band can radically shift its dynamics. Has W.M.D. cleared these hurdles and incubated weapons of thrash destruction, or do they deliver a new album Against All Warnings?

W.M.D. plays thrash the way the old school intended—breakneck and direct. Against All Warnings mostly reminds me of East Coast acts, specifically Overkill and Anthrax, due to the in-your-face attitude, low-frills precision, and spirited bass spunk. Although these benchmarks are most immediate, subtler influences surface by way of Megadethian technicality and razor-sharp riffing à la classic Exodus. I’d also be remiss not to mention Hyperia, which currently features Mills and Power while hosting Idris as their live drummer. Regardless, W.M.D. absorbs the thrash that came before and forges it into a sound all their own—and it rips.

Taking crossover’s blistering speeds and supercharging them with riveting performances, Against All Warnings rams oodles of riffs, grooves, and rolls into forty engrossing minutes. I’m a sucker for bass presence, and W.M.D. packs enough beef to induce a weeklong case of the meat sweats. Jon Power discharges his burly low-end throughout Against All Warnings, bouncing and clanging with the vim and vigor of Verni or DiGiorgio (“Kleptomania,” “The Thin Red Line”). Idris rounds out the rhythm section, nimbly whipsawing across the kit as he maneuvers through full-throttle barrages (“Against All Warnings,” “Painful Vengeance”), half-time chugs (“The Thin Red Line,” “Already Dead”), and herky-jerky stutter stops (“Post Human Predator”). Mills takes on the rest, laying down barbed hooks (“The Black Expanse”) and snotty vocals that recall Lich King and Havok. As the cherry on top, guests Casey Trask (“Post Human Predator,” “Painful Vengeance”) and Kai Sakaguchi (“Against All Warnings”) contribute scorching solos, ensuring there’s never a dearth of pyrotechnics. In all, there’s no weak link in the chain, and Against All Warnings bristles with thrashy vitality.

Nearly as impressive as W.M.D.’s onslaught is their elusion of critical flaws. Against All Warnings sidesteps major pitfalls as W.M.D. navigates the treacherous channels of thrash, dancing along the knife’s edge between the genre’s primary criticisms: unoriginal and retreaded compositions and unserious stylings. Rather, the trio plays infectiously vibrant metal with utter conviction, and I’m here for every second of it. This doesn’t mean the album is perfect, however, and some fine-tuning would elevate Against All Warnings even higher. First, penultimate track “Already Dead” lingers at the end, which would be more palatable if it were the finale. Instead, after a slightly prolonged fade of thunder, we’re given “Painful Vengeance.” Switching the order of these tracks or pushing “Painful Vengeance” even earlier would work better. Also, while the production is warm and organic, the album plays a little too quietly. It’s not an issue if I’m only listening to Against All Warnings, but its songs are noticeably muted when thrown into a playlist with other material. Still, these complaints prove minor quibbles compared to the indisputable boom W.M.D. unleashes.

Thrash detractors may not be convinced by Against All Warnings, but they should be. It’s impossible to deny the energy and conviction coursing through W.M.D.’s balls-out blitz, where relentless speeds, head-banging hooks, and rousing choruses embody W.M.D.’s full-tilt bonanza. Against All Warnings ensconces itself as the best thrash album I’ve heard so far in 2026,2 and sets a high bar for the rest of the year. Somebody ought to sign these Canucks, because they’re peddling a potent brew that’s guaranteed to please, Warnings be damned.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer, Vittra, Buried Realm, Aversed, and others. Given that many of melodeth’s top tier releases came out in the back half of last year, there’s no cause for alarm yet, but with the exception of At the Gates’ opus The Ghost of a Future Dead, I can’t help feeling 2026 is off to a slow start.1 Throwing down the gauntlet with Old Gods Awaken, Vancouver collective Atavistia stakes their claim on this year’s melodeath throne. In his review of Cosmic Warfare, Doom_et_al noted that Atavistia made meaningful strides in songwriting since The Winter Way, but that plenty of room exists to further define an identity outside of Wintersun’s shadow. With the spotlight shining on folk metal influences throughout Old Gods Awaken, can Atavistia maintain their velocity after Cosmic Warfare, or would it have been better to let sleeping gods lie?

For anyone who’s read about Atavistia at AMG before, you know there’s one band whose temple even these Old Gods pray at.2 If you expected that to change, shame on you. With their most flagrant foray into folk metal to date, Atavistia doubles down on Wintersun worship with Old Gods Awaken while succumbing to a feverish case of Ensiferumania. On the surface, this may sound like Atavistia regressing back towards The Winter Way, but instead the band continues to refine the overwrought compositions that Doomy dinged in that review and delivers a succinct forty-three minutes of symphonic melodeath. And though Wintersun and Ensiferum cast the longest shadows, shades of Children of Bodom and Kalmah broaden Old Gods Awaken’s footprint and enrich its well of influences.

Despite Atavistia’s new musical folk-us and turning over half the band since Cosmic Warfare, they submit well-conceived orchestrations and tight performances throughout Old Gods Awaken. Specifically, Atavistia bade farewell to guitarist Dalton Meaden and bassist D’wayne Murray in 2024, welcoming Elia Baghbaniyan and Spencer Budworth in their stead. The quality of instrumentation remains consistent with previous albums, where guitars and synths steal the show as they trade earwormy melodic lines (“Mystic Tavern,” “I Skogens Djup”) that lead into heartfelt solos (“Goddess of My Dreams,” “Ride the White Storm”) and stirring, rustic breaks (“To a New World”). The haunting choirs on Cosmic Warfare have also been replaced by viking gang chants, which makes sense stylistically, but loses some of the flair that helped the former stand out. Longtime drummer Max Sepulveda lays down a commendable performance as well, spicing songs up with well-crafted fills that never overpower Old Gods Awaken’s dense compositions. Besides contributing guitar and supplying his best vocal performance to date, Atavistia ringleader Matt Sippola weaves together a rousing album that stands beside its inspirations.

While Atavistia successfully plunges headlong into folk, the move erodes some of the identity they established previously. Tracks on Cosmic Warfare recalled Wintersun, but just as much reminded me of Brymir and the choral arrangements in The Phantom Menace. Old Gods Awaken forsakes these subtle nods, and though that isn’t bad on its own, the Ensiferum influence is a safer path that deteriorates some of Atavistia’s idiosyncrasies. Additionally, some of the melodies and song structures on Old Gods Awaken blur together. “Mystic Tavern,” “Seeker of Time,” and “Goddess of My Dreams”3 all have similar-sounding leads, and the first two also have somewhat predictable compositions that stand out since the songs are back-to-back, particularly in terms of pacing and the timing of more subdued moments. Ultimately, these are minor complaints on very well-executed material, but diversifying the song structures could unveil even greater heights.

Old Gods Awaken subverts my expectations of what I thought a new Atavistia record would sound like, and even though they lean into a well-defined arena, they do so capably. Monster hooks and intricate, engaging arrangements keep the replay value of Old Gods Awaken tantalizingly high, especially with tight songwriting across the album. I’m curious where Atavistia goes next, as there’s no clear indication of what direction they’ll take. Whatever it is, the persistent urge to evolve their songcraft proves Atavistia will make it interesting and fun, and that every once in a while, you can teach Old Gods new tricks.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Rush is my all-time favorite band, so their 2015 hiatus, brought on by Neil Peart’s declining health hit me hard. Peart’s passing in 2020 made it permanent, slamming the door on the Rush I grew up loving. That’s why stumbling across Crown Lands’ 2023 sophomore album Fearless—courtesy of this very blog—felt like a hemispherian void had been filled. The dynamic duo from Oshawa, Ontario, tapped into the essence of prime ’70s Rush better than anyone I’ve heard, much like Greta Van Fleet’s revival of the mighty Led Zeppelin. Naturally, when I learned their third LP, Apocalypse, was on the way, I rushed to the promo sump to claim dibs faster than you can say 2112.

Apocalypse expands the Fearless Chronology that began with “The Oracle” from 2022’s White Buffalo with the same sonic and aesthetic bombast longtime fans expect, while stretching Crown Lands’ sound into territory occupied by other classic rock titans. Taking place a century before the events of Fearless and once again rooted in the spirit of Rush’s “Cygnus X-1” series, Apocalypse often feels like a natural progression of its predecessor even if it doesn’t quite reach the same heights. Through straightforward, radio-friendly anthems, as well as the mammoth self-titled closer, the album’s narrative charts a manipulative, oppressive force that weaponizes fear (“Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”), then spirals outward into dragons, warriors and interstellar tyrants plunging the world into chaos (“Blackstar”). Amid the destruction, more intimate threads of loss and longing surface in crestfallen ballads (“The Revenant,” “Through the Looking Glass”). Where Fearless opened with its longest track, Apocalypse flips the script, saving its epic for the finale. The 19-minute cut matches the ambition and scope of “The Oracle” and “Starlifter: Fearless Pt. II,” though the record’s bottom-heavy makeup leaves less to uncover in the tracks leading up to it.

It’s unusual to devote an entire paragraph to a single track, but “Apocalypse” earns the word count as its reach accounts for nearly half of the record’s runtime. The piece opens in classic Rush fashion as celestial synths, cascading tom rolls, and shifting syncopation give way to shimmering arpeggios and warm, fluid vocal lines. At first, the track feels poised to deliver on its promise, and as it unfolds, Crown Lands weaves in a myriad of compelling touches, including Pink Floyd’s patented stoner-rock solos and a gorgeous arpeggiated, space-drifting movement with a flute-laden motif that nods to the duo’s Indigenous roots. But the track’s momentum falters at several points, and the songwriting begins to feel choppy as the track progresses. The choral bridge at the six-minute mark is a great idea, yet it’s followed by an overly hectic section where Crown Lands’ instrumental prowess shines but the vocals grate, undercutting what could have become a more transcendent phase. Similarly, the astral section at eleven minutes, with its galactic, vocal harmonies and tribal tom flourishes, is another moment that is abrasive. Although it ends on a high note, “Apocalypse” feels like it needed more time to bake to fully come together.

The unevenness of the self-titled epic would be forgivable if Apocalypse’s remaining tracks consistently picked up the slack. But they don’t. Stronger songs like “Through the Looking Glass” and “The Revenant” rely on Led Zeppelin-esque refrains to cohere into some of their best material to date, while Bowles’ vocal approach primarily hampers “Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”, “Blackstar,” and “The Fall.” Bowles’ high-register singing—which will no doubt remain as divisive as Geddy Lee’s—can feel forced or strained at times, pulling me out of the otherwise strong songwriting rather than deepening the immersion. Across several key moments, Bowles doesn’t feel fully locked in, leaning instead on playful, almost taunting huffs and puffs (“The Fall”) or siren-like shrills (“Apocalypse”) that never quite find their place. Still, while Crown Lands’ execution isn’t as consistently sharp as Fearless, Apocalypse still offers plenty of quality material for fans to latch onto.

I’ve enjoyed my time with Apocalypse, yet I can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed. Maybe it speaks to the consistency and appeal of Fearless, but this record simply doesn’t resonate in the same way its predecessor did. To their credit, Crown Lands takes risks and pushes into some new territory here, and some of those choices pay off. Nevertheless, Apocalypse lacks the cohesion to keep me coming back, outside of a couple tracks that have burrowed their way into my psyche. It’s a letdown, but one I’m inclined to chalk up to growing pains for now.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: InsideOut Music
Websites: crownlands.bandcamp.com | crownlandsmusic.com | facebook.com/crownlandsmusic
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

I have one for #BlackMetalMonday this week. It takes a lot for me to like black metal. But GRAVPISSER has something really special going on. Gravpisser is a one man black metal project from Canada, and he has a demo from December 2025 I hadn't heard (I'd heard a couple from 2024-- he put out 4 demos that year). But yeah, this 2025 one is damn great: https://gravpisser.bandcamp.com/album/frostbitna-b-ner-vid-graven

#metal #BlackMetal #Canada #CanadianMetal #CanadianBands #CanadianBlackMetal #Gravpisser

Pretty Neat! Here Are Five Canadian Metal Bands Who Don’t Have To Worry About Going Bankrupt From an Emergency Room Visit

https://fed.brid.gy/r/https://thehardtimes.net/blog/pretty-neat-here-are-five-canadian-metal-bands-who-dont-have-to-worry-about-going-bankrupt-from-an-emergency-room-visit/