Since releasing Magnum Opus four years ago, Philadelphia’s IATT has refined their songwriting toolkit to incorporate an even wider array of ideas and sounds. New platter Etheric Realms of the Night demonstrates a compositional leap as IATT weaves a grandiose concept into music—specifically, exploring the deconstruction of consciousness as wakeful awareness decays amongst the capricious environs of the subliminal. This abstract notion is rife with potential, offering boundless possibilities for artistic exploration. Broadly speaking, IATT follows a fascinating trajectory, covering a lot of ground with each release and honing their craft remarkably since their debut. With their latest offering, can IATT send us into Etheric Realms of delight?

Etheric Realms of the Night surges with ideas and instrumentation, entwining ephemeral beauty and scathing dissonance into a fugue-like fever dream. Prior albums Nomenclature and Magnum Opus reference stalwarts Opeth, Enslaved, and Dissection, melding melody with brutality to wondrous effect. Etheric Realms of the Night retains the core of IATT’s sound while expanding it even further into flamboyantly progressive territory à la Ihsahn and Thy Catafalque, and it’s this pivot that unites Etheric Realms’ music and concept so cohesively. The flute, performed by Didier Malherbe, sets the tone at the beginning of lead track “Drift Away.” Light, airy, and flitting, its inclusion is a masterstroke in evoking dreams’ fleeting substance. Piano lines weave in and out of the compositions, enriching the gorgeously textured cascades of IATT’s dense soundscape with vague impressions of a lullaby. Yet no matter how busy any particular moment is, each facet plays in service to the whole, engendering an astonishing coherence through Etheric Realms despite the diversity of components.

The overarching narrative on Etheric Realms of the Night follows the mind’s state of consciousness as sleep erodes the physics of reality, sending us deep into the impenetrable murk of unfiltered inputs and perceptions. “Drift Away” begins with a tandem of acoustic strumming played under a lilting flute, leading to a VoiceOver thought exercise that establishes a loose framework for Etheric Realms.1 From there, the track launches into harsh vocals alongside soaring strings that give way to heartfelt cleans, a groovy drum shuffle, punchy bass countermelodies, and sprightly piano flourishes. It’s the perfect introduction for what IATT accomplishes throughout Etheric Realms, as atmospheres consistently dart and lurch in unexpected directions. This approach synchronizes perfectly with the ephemeral temperament of dreams, where paradigms are kaleidoscopic, and no foothold lasts longer than a breath. So, too, does IATT’s songwriting shift and evolve throughout Etheric Realms’ runtime, with themes and motifs fading and reemerging in altered forms.

Etheric Realms’ success hinges on performances that can support the concept IATT sets in motion, and here, too, they deliver in spades. The guitars feature prominently on Magnum Opus, frequently stepping out to deliver showy licks and sure-fingered solos. On Etheric Realms, guitarists Joe Cantamessa and Alec Pezzano are no less capable and still deliver electrifying leads and riffs. Yet it’s their restraint that works best, giving room for other parts to dazzle. Paul Cole’s drumming hypnotizes as he adopts different styles throughout, including a dance-ready samba pattern on “Pavor Nocturnus” and a Portnoyesque rumble toward the back end of “Somniphobia.” Meanwhile, bassist/vocalist Jay Briscoe unleashes the best performance of his career so far, issuing a variety of black metal rasps and lower register roars along with effective cleans. Briscoe’s stately bass lines deserve praise as well, sauntering into the spotlight or supporting with gravelly grooves as needed. Also, the saxophone on “Walk Amongst,” played by Jørgen Munkeby (Emperor, Shining), wails with such emotion and moxie that I get goosebumps every time I listen. Every moment on Etheric Realms feels well-considered and expertly crafted, and the way it all fits together is transcendent.

Etheric Realms of the Night is an unabashed triumph. In my time at AMG, this is the only review I’ve tarried on because I didn’t want to stop listening to the album. IATT supplies an arresting three-quarters of an hour that sets my dopamine release valve to ‘GUSH,’ and Etheric Realms claims a residency in my gray matter that haunts me day and night. Every time “Hypnos” concludes, I’m left mesmerized and enamored with IATT’s swirling moods and seamless conglomeration of ideas. While it’s too early for me to think about list season,2 the subconscious pull Etheric Realms possesses only grows stronger with each visit, and I dare to dream of writing about it again.

Rating: Excellent!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

“He who sees the world beyond is forever haunted.” So claims the Australian death thrash unit In Malice’s Wake as heard on “Beyond Death” from their latest record, The Profound Darkness. IMW last scourged the Earth with 2020’s The Blindness of Faith, a sprawling, somewhat bloated collection of bulldozing thrash metal condemnations of religious manipulation and ignorance. With four original LPs and twenty-four years of independent musicianship under them, guitarist Leigh Bartley (Harlott), bassist Karl Watterson, drummer Mark Farrugia, and guitarist/vocalist Shaun Farrugia have returned with The Profound Darkness. This time, IMW turn their focus from ire against religion towards rumination on death and the turmoil surrounding the uncertainty thereafter. Tackling as heavy a subject as one could ask for, can In Malice’s Wake deliver us the cold terror of the grave, or is The Profound Darkness more superficial than they’d like us to think?

In Malice’s Wake on The Profound Darkness still sling a most deathly thrash. The Profound Darkness is supercharged with beefy riffs, pummeling rhythms, and bellowing screams. Testamental groove and Power Tripping hardcore DNA bristle on The Profound Darkness, but In Malice’s Wake thrash primarily under the schools of Slayer and Sepultura, encrusted with lightning-fast chromatic riffs, punishing and intricate drumming (“The Great Purifier”) and wailing guitar dives (“Numb to Paradise”) under the singular aim of sounding as evil as possible. IMW’s deeper extreme metal influences manifest in death metal riffing and vox and in the blackened tremolo leads of “The Last Song”1 and the Dissection x Slayer ”The Darkness Below Us.” The only major shift from The Blindness of Faith to The Profound Darkness is in editing, as IMW’s new record is over ten minutes shorter than their last through tighter songwriting. One thing’s for sure: In Malice’s Wake are still as hostile as ever.

In Malice’s Wake sounds great when they hit the right balance of technicality and immediacy. The Profound Darkness is busy, but never noodly or extravagant. Songs like “Upon My Flesh” and “By Tongues of Demons” exercise scathing, headbangable riffcraft while fitting in a lot more notes than expected, given their lizard-brained appeal. Similarly, Mark Farrugia’s sneaks just enough flare into his drumming while keeping to the pocket, dropping some nimble kicks and cymbals over “Beyond Death” and “The Great Purifier” amidst his blistering assault on the senses. Small touches make a big difference on The Profound Darkness, most notably the multitudes of brief guitar solos littering songs like “Beyond Death,” “The Darkness Below Us,” and “The Great Purifier.” IMW can shred like crazy but choose to cut themselves short, which keeps The Profound Darkness lean and focused, and the listener wanting more, which there will be. The Profound Darkness is an expertly written and performed album by musicians who know to put the needs of their songs first and when and where to let it rip.

The Profound Darkness is less bloated than The Blindness of Faith, but In Malice’s Wake lost a little something in the process of slimming down. “The Last Song” and “Away from the Light” are as tight and fiery as IMW’s best stuff, but lack the breathing room to grow and wrap all of their riffs and ideas into complete packages. The Profound Darkness’ mix also lacks breathing room, and though it’s not totally brickwalled, it takes its toll on the ears by the end. Further, these songs aren’t as memorable as The Blindness of Faith. I’ve spent far more time with The Profound Darkness and yet can’t recall much from it, as well as the Sepultura-worshiping title track, the mind-freakery of “To Die as One,” or the tribalistic pulse of “Ritual Slaughter.” There is variety here, particularly in the blackened opulence of closer “The Darkness Below Us,” but I wish In Malice’s Wake had taken just a few more eccentric paths in uncovering The Profound Darkness.

However, whatever problems I see in The Profound Darkness can’t detract from its sheer electricity. Every riff hits, every rasp is bilious, and In Malice’s Wake never let up to give you a chance at getting bored. Old fans won’t find much to complain about here. Fans of thrash and/or death yet unfamiliar with IMW may find themselves caught up in the Wake. That promise of a haunting—of coming into gnosis of the paralyzing apprehension of death—is sometimes brushed against. Not many groups even get that, so give The Profound Darkness a shot if your evening plans include mortal dread anywhere.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: inmaliceswake.com | inmaliceswake.bandcamp | facebook.com/inmaliceswake
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

Sicarius hit the ground raging in 2017 when the Californian black metal upstarts released their scathingly vicious debut album, Serenade of Slitting Throats, which captured the metal heart of AMG’s Diabolus in Muzaka, earning a coveted 4.0. Sicarius’s sophomore effort, 2020’s God of Dead Roots, didn’t fare as well; the band, adjusting to the departure of founding guitarist Argyris, ultimately turned in a less visceral, more workmanlike product. Then, when original drummer Brandon Zackay left to focus on his career in Whitechapel, and the other members exited, both voluntarily and not, Sicarius ostensibly died, leaving God of Dead Roots an unanticipated swan song. Fast forward to 2024, when Argyris reunited with original bassist Carnage and joined forces with new vocalist Akéfalos and session drummer Levi Xvl to begin recording a third album, Nex, which, after six long years, has arrived to reintroduce this risen phoenix iteration of Sicarius to the masses.

Sicarius the resurrected doesn’t sound much different than Sicarius the dead. Nex adheres to the same modern black metal formula as its predecessors, maintaining channels of influence drawn from Dissection, Dark Funeral, Urgehal, and, despite Mick Kenney’s departure from the booth, Anaal Nathrakh. In keeping with their monikers’ Latin translation, Sicarius brings an assassin’s cache of weaponry to bear. Argyris sounds rejuvenated and lethal, his armory of blistering riffage (“Cold Death,” “No Witnesses”), chaotically tremolodic leads (“Nex”), and nifty solo work (“Crashing Into the Abyss”) on full display.1 Newcomer Akéfalos adds a layer of frigidity to Nex’s surgical, cold-steel across a warm-throat sound, his icy, high-pitched screeches a mix of Abbath and Hat from early Gorgoroth, while his low-bellied growls are reminiscent of Rotting Christ. Nex has the sound of a band pissed, Sicarius attempting to bury the remnants of what was for something altogether more destructive.

Nex by Sicarius

There’s no doubt Sicarius is exceptionally capable of speed, but for my money, I connected most with Nex’s melodies and mixed paces. Beginning with a brooding, tremoloed guitar melody, “Opened Obsidian Gateways” uses Sargeistian levels of repetition to drive its earwormy chord progressions home, a variation employed during the verses and identically replicated during the bridge before sliding into a nice, mid-song chug section and then back again. Simple yet effective, the song’s a highlight as I found myself humming the melody randomly throughout the day. Also noteworthy are the slow-moving melodic chords of “Banshee,” which gave off Dissection vibes, and the mid-paced marcher “The Hunger We Cannot Sate,” as it gallops along in true Watain fashion, instigating black-n-roll levels of head bobbery over its 5:24 runtime. There’s a lot of musical nuance woven into the details of Nex; my many play-throughs tell me as much, which makes it all the more disappointing that it’s so hard to hear them.

“With a (t)reble yell she cried, NO more, more, more.” I’ve taken some slight liberties with Mr. Idol’s classic lyric to illustrate Nex’s most glaring flaw: a thin, imbalanced mix. Nex sounds much louder than its DR score might suggest. Serenade of Slitting Throats, for instance, with a DR lower than Nex’s, sounds light years warmer because Kenney was able to give Serenade’s lower tones some weight. Nex is nearly devoid of low end, completely negating anything Carnage is doing on bass and robbing much of Levi Xvl’s bass drum work of power, making for an extremely exhausting experience. I had to break my focused listening sessions up, in fact, because trying to listen through all 44:10 of Nex’s runtime left me so audially spent that I was reaching for aspirin. Whether this was a deliberate choice, I don’t know. It sure lends Sicarius an icier-than-thou edge, as much black metal of this ilk is known for, but it really robbed a large portion of my enjoyment, which sucks because, in bite-sized pieces, Nex is actually a pretty decent album.

Sicarius has returned with a vengeance and a we’re-not-fucking-around attitude, as evidenced in no small part by that brutally distinctive cover art. Alongside other bands like Impious Throne, Unholy Altar and Wuldorgast, Sicarius is bringing a sense of menace back to the US black metal scene. Nex is an album worth spinning, despite being hampered by a production that makes it too tiring to listen to in a single sitting, which left me to score it thusly. Still, I’ll be keeping my eyes and ears peeled for the next outing.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Adirondack Black Mass | Bandcamp (album)
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Without question, Friday is my favorite day of the week. Even more tantalizing than the conclusion to an often grueling gauntlet of meetings, feedback, and GSD,1 I’m blessed with metal’s new releases. Trying to listen to everything that comes out is a fool’s errand—luckily, I’m a fool. During one of my customary Friday excursions, fortune smiled upon me when I stumbled onto Graufar’s sophomore opus, Via Necropolis. As I listened, the album’s grooves, riffs, and passions bathed me in blackened deathly glory. My luck persisted through the morning—Graufar’s promo still lurked unclaimed in the bin. Yoink! Though I discovered Via Necropolis late, I was powerless to resist the call of a review, especially given the band’s unsigned/independent status. Thus saddled with an unplanned bit of writing and a pocketful of tunes, let us sojourn down Necropolis way.

Too many blackened death metal bands present a mixed bag of half-measures.2 To me, the peak allure of the subgenre promises the brutality and technicality of death metal united with black metal’s icy atmospherics and raw aesthetics. The quintessentially boilerplate BDM band brews a tepid concoction featuring a death metal base with black metal spices; fortunately, Graufar averts getting mired in pedestrian trappings. Honing a sound established on debut Scordalus, Via Necropolis flaunts chilly trems, grating rasps, and a coat of corpse paint that betrays their blackened heart, and it beats with the blood of Dissection, Necrophobic, and Rimfrost. Death metal’s influence is more subtle, skulking in chugging grooves and vicious growls that blend in seamlessly.

Via Necropolis by Graufar

Though Graufar’s performances across Via Necropolis merit praise, vocalist Gernot Graf deserves special recognition. His scathing vocals loose misery and malevolence that arouse a primal reflex, making my throat twinge at the thought of snarling along. Tracks like “Blizzard and Blaze” and “Foltertrog” exhibit Graf’s penchant for wringing out every ounce of emotion, from vitriol to agony. Black metal rasps aren’t his only trick, though. Graf roars with an insatiable fire on “Charon” and “Buried in Flames,” devolving into bestial throes within “Heralds of Doom” and “Via Necropolis” and ensuring that his versatile performance never lacks conviction or fervor. Graf also plays guitar alongside Michael Herber, and together they fashion a glittering heap of licks, leads, and grooves. And it’s the latter that stands out the most, because while death metal regularly brandishes them, black metal rarely deigns to approve the groove. Meanwhile, “Buried in Flames” and “On Your Knees” demonstrate Graufar’s shrewd understanding of songwriting, and bolstered by Thomas Buchmeier’s slinky bass and René Hinum’s precision drumming, Via Necropolis positively thrums.

Throughout Via Necropolis, Graufar dazzles with their ability to conjure dynamic arrangements informed by influences. Kicking off with a Dissection-coded intro on “Blizzard and Blaze,” Graufar mingles with mellow cleans, slithers through second-wave savagery reminiscent of Mayhem,3 and even dabbles in throat-singing before ending back on the cleans. “Heralds of Doom” features a fiery solo that cedes to a pit-ready sway, “Via Necropolis” starts with a sleek Necrophobic-meets-Watain riff that builds to a doomy chorus played over rabid trems, and “On Your Knees” bashes you in the face with a potent Sepultura groove.4 Despite Graufar’s administration of reference points galore, they never linger overlong on any one. The songwriting is deceptively understated, and although this works in Graufar’s favor as a whole, over repeated listens I find my engagement more attuned to Via Necropolis’s back half. Reordering the tracks (“Buried in Flames” would make a fantastic opener) and slightly trimming the longer ones would add an immediacy that brings some of the back-end boom up front.

All told, Graufar delivers a vibrant outing that boasts a refreshing take on blackened death teeming with wonderfully wicked ideas. Via Necropolis sizzles throughout its forty-two minutes and distinguishes the band as an act to watch. Considering both Graufar’s albums have been released independently, the band displays remarkable song craft and self-editing, and Via Necropolis gleams with talented musicians who forge well-crafted metal bangers. Better late than never, I’m glad this gem didn’t slip by.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 20th, 2026

Illustration by Odoardo Fialetti, Francesco Valesio, from De formato foetu liber singularis (1626).

Source: US National Library of Medicine

https://pdimagearchive.org/images/a52ee0f4-d2ac-4161-a84c-960c8d4e680a

#anatomy #dissection #biology #childbirth #art #publicdomain

RE: https://piaille.fr/@Nordkapp/116311413553154795

Petite fixette périodique sur Thorns of Crimson Death #Dissection

Death is cheap - corpses are eternal!

https://piefed.social/c/historymemes/p/1900945/death-is-cheap-corpses-are-eternal

It’s not often I underrate something, but if there were ever a legitimate example, it might be my review of Arcane Paths to Resurrection, the debut from Greek black metal trio Decipher. Upon revisiting it recently, I experienced newfound intense appreciation for their slightly crusty melodic black metal, and this all stemmed from my initial spins of sophomore ΘΕΛΗΜΑ.1 Not overly atmospheric, not supremely dissonant or integrated into death metal, nor straightforwardly raw and aggressive, Decipher maintain a style in Thelema that’s as subtly intriguing and melodic as it is punchy and to-the-point. The word Thelema means will2 and while there’s no lyric sheet or storytelling in promo material to elucidate the concept, the snatches of audible references to Satan, and the generally extreme, yet anthemic vibe of the music broadcast defiant rebellion and the burden of being, which suit that word well.

Decipher’s sound is broadly the same as on Arcane Paths, a Watain-meets-Dissection viciousness tempered—if you can call it that—by a darker, eerier side that pulls more from Icelandic acts like Svartidauði. Whilst remaining committed to frequent use of group-chanted and screamed vocal lines and plenty of recognisably malicious blackened riffery, Thelema sees the band experiment a little more. While not meandering—with the possible exception of “Bound to the Wheel”—songs spread their themes into more variations (“The Black March,” “Towards Renaissance”) or uncanny soloing, whilst rhythms shift more often, and build tension for longer before unravelling and transforming. The barely five minutes added is enough for the compositions to have more presence, whether with energetic malevolence (“Return to Naught,” “Seven Scars”) or ominous finality (“Liturgy”). Skirting the precipice that would see a descent into atmo-black, there’s a relaxation and a layering to the melodic lines that deepens and darkens the sound.

ΘΕΛΗΜΑ (Thelema) by DECIPHER

Thelema demonstrates that Decipher’s command of rhythm, melody, and grit has only gotten better, as it compels with the joint force of hookiness and evil. Using recurring patterns of riff, vocals, and percussion that each cue one another, Decipher create a thrashing feeling of push-and-pull that’s downright magnetic. A group wail precipitating a gnarly descending arpeggio (“Seven Scars”); the way a guitar clambers up and down to the precise beat of the drums (“Return to Naught,” “Hail Death”). These manifest organically out of existing tempos—blast beat (“Seven Scars”), march (“The Black March”), or shuffling skitter (“Towards Renaissance”) alike, making the shifts seamless and the identity consistent. Perhaps this is black metal that’s not unusual on paper, but adorned with Decipher’s now recognisable bright yet sinister melodies, and continually layered vocals, it sounds freshly thrilling. The tingles that go down my spine when I hear the first riff on opener “Return to Naught,” the solo that ends “The Black March,” and the overlaid cries and urgent tremolo of “Litany” have not yet failed to materialise.

Thelema’s enjoyability and power over its listener is also bolstered by Decipher’s additional refinements in areas not lacking before. By severing any instrumental interlude or protracted intro, the energy—however it transforms—and momentum are maintained, and the album has a more robust through-line. Rhythmic and thematic shifts flex and emerge variously with emphasis and mournful or spiteful intensity. The wails are just as agonised and chest-emptying in the latter half as they are in the first. Decipher’s production has also expanded to accommodate their slightly more nuanced and exploratory sound. Thelema sports a roomy mix that keeps the interspersed vocal and guitar lines, and the proudly beating drums and crashing cymbals equally audible and striking.

I recall bemoaning a lack of zhuzh in Arcane Paths and, whether or not I still consider that justified, it definitely wouldn’t be here. For all the new layers and senses of intrigue, Thelema remains a black metal album with standout moments that threaten to overshadow and desaturate the more standard fare, and may strike some harder than others. It yet undeniably shows Decipher carving out a decisive space for themselves that adumbrates a dark, delicious presence. Thelema stands one step behind the inexorability that confers greatness in its sphere. But it’s a small step.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 20th, 2026