In my hitherto short stint of indefinite indentured servitude in the hall, I’ve frequently noted the importance of albums with narrative. In my younger days, I was a simp for albums with as many tracks as I could find. Deluxe editions? Yes please. Reissues, demos, covers, unreleased bonus cuts? Heck yeah, inject that right into my veins. It’s only as the responsibilities of adulthood overtook casual listening time that I began to appreciate albums with brevity, direction, and a distinct sense of a complete, full-bodied work. Well, everybody buckle in, because somewhere in the ether a big middle finger on a monkey’s paw has curled in my direction, by way of Italy’s Dwellnought, presenting their debut album Monolith of Ephemerality. Oh, we will go on a journey together, alright, but will there be anything left worth recounting of this Monolith on our return?

Despite an album title seemingly indebted to the more thesaurus-riddled branches of slam, Dwellnought actually traffic in a brand of feedback-drenched blackened doom. Atmospheric theatrics are the name of the game, with an album that seeks to deprive the listener of anything approaching light, optimism, or major keys. Rumbling feedback collapses into slow bpm plods with sustained trem-chords filling in the negative spaces in time for single cymbal/bass drum hits before eventually metamorphosing into an earthquake shattering riff while vocalist S bellows and wails from just beyond the mix. The doom takes the biggest prevalence as Monolith of Ephemerality rarely exceeds a brisk trot in pace, with any spurts of speed eventually devolving back into exhausted continuations.

Monolith of Ephemerality by DWELLNOUGHT

Such commitment to crippling atmosphere is admirable, but it comes at the expense of almost everything else. Dwellnought have attempted an unusual formula, channeling the claustrophobia of Teitanblood in production but channeled through an almost Bell Witch chord pacing with occasional flourishes of Ossuary crust-heaving. The formula finds its peak at the beginning, with long-form intro “Slumbering Through the Dream of Impermanence” flowing seamlessly into massive 17-minute barnburner “The Final Desire is Unbeing.” Here is the Dwellnought recipe at its most refined. The otherwise needlessly lengthy intro is atmospheric and mood-setting, with the oscillation of tempo and tone in its follow-up masterfully executed. Within this lengthy run comes segments heavily indebted to drum-machine era Blut Aus Nord gelling into a barbaric Cough waltz with effortlessness. This 20-minute kickoff shows real promise, evoking the abyss with texture as much as color, or lack thereof.

If only the rest of the album followed suit. The quality dip in the back three-fifths represents not a slope as much as a sudden drop-off where memorable songwriting is sacrificed utterly at the altar of mood. The dedication to the mood is palpable, as not one note approaches anything optimistic or upbeat, but in their avoidance of such things, Dwellnought also sidestep memorability or impact. “Crystalized Flesh Identities Condensed into Wombs of Matter” can’t make up its mind whether it wants to be fast or slow and has tempo changes marked more by indecision than deliberate arrangement. Both this and “Ill Whispers” frequently rely on chords ringing out via prolonged strum with minimalized drumbeats, but the notes are mixed so homogenously I struggle to tell if there are actual riffs or if Dwellnought are riding atonality into oblivion. The opening to both tracks borders on self-plagiarism in their similarity, and no single moment of menace comes close to matching the peak of the preceding songs. Additionally, Monolith of Ephemerality ends on a 6-minute assault of nothing but static and a grumbly voice speaking out of the void, which is wild since that’s exactly how “Crystalized Flesh…” ends as well. An attempt at a narrative is clear, and yet this climax is far from earned, given the drought of memorable set pieces to justify such a noise-rooted outro.

And yet, I keep coming back to those first twenty minutes. It takes balls the size of a bird of a plane of ClarkKent1 to open up your already longform album with your highest quality riffs. Had these two songs made up all of Monolith of Ephemerality as a single-track ep (not dissimilar to Suffering Hour’s Dwell, for example), this would make an excellent addition to the end-of-the-year EP roundups. There’s a genuine seed of promise in how Dwellnought have put their best foot forward, but the collapse in quality as the album continues cannot be denied. The mix is massive, the tone dark, the atmosphere oppressive, and the influences are a recipe for a good time. But somewhere along the way, Dwellnought stared so hard into the abyss that eventually even the abyss stopped staring back. All atmosphere and very little riffage, this album is an excellent reminder to be careful what we wish for.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Caligari Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

It’s not uncommon for death metal musicians to mellow and prog out the longer they roam this Earth. Far from a negative connotation, enough songwriting prowess can lead to a tasteful and potent way to carry out said development. One of many collectives in this category is the Morbus Chron expanded universe. These Swedes first went from classic death metal to Sweven, which eventually led to an even proggier Sweven. Now, in a further evolution following the Law of Increasing Hippietude™, we arrive at Speglas. Although predating Sweven by some five years, it took until now for the debut full-length Endarkenment, Being & Death to come to fruition. Their goal of fusing death and black metal with heavy metal, however, has remained the same throughout. With two degrees of staff and sound separation between Morbus Chron and Speglas, where has all this evolution led to?

The Sweven presence in the lineup of Speglas is noticeable from the get go. Isak Rosemarin (Sweven, ex-Morbus Chron) acts as half of the guitar crew and all of the vocal crew, lending the album a warm but powerful, raspy growl often reminiscent of Niilo Sevänen (Insomnium). Jesper Nyrelius’s (Sweven) drumming is varied and detailed (“The Spirit Postmortem,” “Hitherto Awry”). Alexi Hedlund’s guitar and Victor Berg’s bass round out the great performances of the lineup. Musically, Endarkenment… tends to fall somewhere between Inconcessus Lux Lucis’s blackened Iron Maiden approach (sadly gone unmentioned on site until now) and Chapel of Disease’s severely underrated deathened dad rock from 2024. Fans of Tribulation’s Down Below era might find a lot to like here as well. The songwriting builds upon their preceding EPs—2015’s Birth, Dreams & Death and 2022’s Time, Futility & Death—but improves on all aspects, nailing down the vocals and crafting a memorable dual guitar tandem (“Incessant Severance,” “Dies Mali”). And while the project’s vision does precede Sweven by a lot, its instrumentation inevitably ends up feeling distantly related (“Dearth”).

Endarkenment, Being & Death by Speglas

Endarkenment, Being & Death flows seamlessly from atmospheric to intense in various styles and tempos. Iron Maiden licks run amok throughout the album’s dual-harmonized guitar work (“Dearth,” “Rage upon the Dying Fire”) of course, but they’re not carrying the record alone. Gorgeous clean guitar parts (“Ailing,” “Dearth”) and sadboi tremolos (“Dies Mali”) accompany the superb rhythm and lead guitar efforts elsewhere. Parts of “The Endarkenment” even resemble Alcest by way of Spiritual Instinct’s fantastic post-black direction. All this leads to Speglas being progressive without it getting in the way of the music. In addition, a stellar production job only lifts up the band’s great stylistic choices. Simon Söderberg’s (whose production credits surprisingly include early Ghost) placement of drums and bass in the mix deserve special mention, as it makes an already good set of instruments sound incredible. Though not a massively layered or complex album, the combination of both songwriting and production depth makes for a highly repeatable experience.

Careful pacing allows Speglas to end their experiment with a triumphant bang instead of a whimper. Though the album could benefit from showing more teeth and grit at its most aggressive, the ending one-two punch of the album in “Dies Mali” and “Rage upon the Dying Fire” is a cornerstone hard to argue against. I wouldn’t be surprised if both end up being among my Song o’ the Year finalists. As for its softer side, the beauty of “Woe” and “Ailing” won’t change the minds of people diametrically opposed to intros and interludes. Some will say Speglas’s style is too watered down, others might think it’s not watered down enough. But I think Endarkenment… strikes a great balance in between, the music being both heavy and beautiful, intricate and addictingly catchy as a result.

You don’t need to reinvent the wheel to craft something that feels fresh and exemplary. Speglas took a long while to fine-tune their writing prowess for the debut, and it paid off in spades. Endarkenment, Being & Death succeeds in its primary goal as a superb example of progressive, deathened and blackened heavy metal. Despite not featuring any cowbell, I reckon it’ll be difficult for future 2026 albums to top this one come year-end. As the final recent n00b remaining who hadn’t broken the Score Safety Counter yet, I’m glad I held out this long for something remarkable. And I wasn’t even originally in charge of covering it!

Rating: Excellent
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Trust No One Recordings | Bandcamp
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Reviewing albums explicitly labelled post-metal always seems to bring out my inner pedant. I know all genre labels are kind of meaningless, but post-metal specifically seems to simply be slapped onto anything with fewer riffs than your average atmo-black record, but a lot more cleans. Nonetheless, you know what it sounds like, in essence. If that essence had form, it could be Unverkalt on their third LP Héréditaire. Born in Greece and now split between Greece and Germany, Unverkalt’s self-styled avant-garde approach to post-metal takes its “heaviest and most heartfelt” form on this album, which also marks their signing with Season of Mist. Unknown to me beforehand, promotional references to Cut of Luna and Sylvaine in particular caught my eye, along with the art. I’m glad I picked it up because Unverkalt have something that approaches brilliance at many times. But in embodying the vague yet recognisable subgenre—and sounding good whilst doing it—Héréditaire fails to go further than the safety of the minimum required.

Ignore the artist touchstones in the promo; Unverkalt has little meaningful in common with them: a female lead vocalist is about where that starts and ends. If anything, the aura reflects more Harakiri for the Sky, Heretoir, or maybe Frayle. Lead vocalist Dimitra Kalavrezou sings with a distinctive, somewhat sweet intonation, and screams with articulate fierceness—impressive considering this is her first record providing harsh vocals. Her voice is joined by that of guitarist Eli Mavrychev and—in a late-album highlight—Sakis Tolis (“I, The Deceit”), often layered and intermingled to lend a chorus-of-many-voices air that can be quite powerful. This sense of solidarity and humanity ties into Héréditaire’s overt emotionality—easily its greatest asset—which revolves around mournful yet uplifting themes that rise from softly resonant notes into the (regrettably blurry) weeping of tremolo and chunky riffs. It’s through the continued swell and fade of each composition that we get to see the greats that Unverkalt is capable of.

Héréditaire by Unverkalt

Even as songs tend to repeat the same pattern, most manage to draw the listener in. Synths (“Oath ov Prometheus”), vaguely MENA-style saxophone (“Ænæ Lithi”), and sprinklings of piano (“Penumbrian Lament”), and humming strings (“Maladie de l’Esprit”)1 float in and out, and I only wish they were used more. Harnessing the drama of surging, urgent riffs (“Die Auslöschung,” “Oath ov Prometheus”) and heartfelt group screams and singing (“Death is Forever,” “A Lullaby for the Descent”), the iterated compositions win you over by sheer force. These plainly beautiful melodies and ardent vocal performances are inextricable, each lending the other a level of strength and gravity neither could claim in isolation. Some songs stand head and shoulders above others in this regard: “Die Auslöschung,” “Death is Forever,” “Maladie de l’Esprit,” and in particular, “I, the Deceit,” where Sakis Tolis brings not only his voice but a distinctly Scandinavian melodeath2 vibe to a song where he and Dimitria also duet in their shared native tongue. That song and many others are also examples of Unverkalt’s strange, quasi-pop-rock leanings that they incorporate through the use of bobbing, understated clean refrains that slingshot back into something heavier or more atmospheric (“Oath ov Prometheus,” “A Lullaby for the Descent,” “Introjects”). This weirdness sharpens Unverkalt’s style and works surprisingly well.

Héréditaire thus brims with feeling, strong melodies, and potential. Undeniably stirring at its best (“Die Auslöschung,” “I, the Deceit,” “Maladie de l’Esprit”), and with little idiosyncrasies of style giving it distinction, as a whole it feels oddly unrealised. One culprit is the shockingly compressed mix, which robs the guitars of their body and drums of their bite. Given the vocal range on display and the elements of instrumental experimentation (horns, piano, etc), this would sound far better with a roomier production. But it’s primarily the overly repetitive structure of the compositions that causes issues. Though the passion of the singing or screaming, and the force of a good melody cause you to briefly forget, every song follows essentially the same trajectory—or rather, the same sequence of things repeats across the album, sometimes spanning between songs. Whispers or quiet singing, a steady beat and post-rock atmosphere, black-adjacent speed and screaming, and a lapse into a swaying tempo. With nine tracks adding up to around 50 minutes, you start to notice.

I don’t want to rag on Héréditarire too much; it’s a good album. The fervency and melancholia of the vocal performances—from Dimitria especially—and melodies show the passion behind the project, and there’s a thread of individuality that could pull them out of obscurity. But for as expressive, intriguing, and compelling as their music often is, Unverkalt’s reluctance—or inability—to step outside of a template holds them down when they could be soaring.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Here at AMG Industries, we strive to unearth as many underground gems as possible. Sometimes, though, we may get a bit carried away, as Master of Muppets once did in a TYMHM article wherein he crammed as many shoutouts to other groups as possible. As this solitary line1 has been the only coverage Nullingroots has received here so far, allow me to introduce them more formally. Based in Phoenix, Arizona, Nullingroots was originally formed by Cameron Boesch as an instrumental post-metal solo project. Various shades of black metal were added over time alongside additional band members. The current iteration of Nullingroots includes Alex Haddad, the founder of rising progressive death metal act Dessiderium.2 Now, Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape signals Nullingroots’ re-emergence after a six-year hiatus.

I don’t know the extent to which Alex Haddad participated in writing Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape, but it certainly sounds as if he had a hand in it. The breezy major key melodies that defined last year’s Dessiderium record can be easily discerned in the guitar, bass, and piano, albeit filtered through a post-black lens instead of progressive death. In this way, I prefer Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape to its 2019 predecessor, Malady’s Black Maw, which was much more uniformly blackened with fewer instances to breathe. The most compelling moments now come from the piano and various other keyboard effects, which add a crystalline luster much like the otherworldly stylings of Unreqvited.

Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape by Nullingroots

Nullingroots packed a lot into the 55 minutes of Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape. The guitar chords often straddle the line between consonance and dissonance (“Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape,” “Remember My Name”). Drum tempo shifts are plentiful to the point of feeling erratic rather than progressive. The most intriguing track, “In Reverie’s Embrace,” combines a mystical keyboard tune with something almost resembling a rap beat played on the virtual drum kit. The vocals are the only area that can sometimes feel monotonous. The fierce rasps fit better within faster-paced songs like “Remember My Name,” but don’t mesh as well with the gentler “Memoir of a Frail Past,” though there are brief instances of smoother, gentler growls (“Life Thief”). The biggest missed opportunity is the complete absence of clean vocals, as Haddad’s singing would likely have complemented much of the instrumentation well if given the opportunity.

Despite its busyness, Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape doesn’t accomplish as much as it could. More often than not, it presents a jumble of independent moments as opposed to a fluid whole. Some of these moments are, admittedly, impressive, such as the guitar shredding partway through “The Optimist.” “Memoir of a Frail Past” and “In Reverie’s Embrace” fare better thanks to recurring keyboard melodies, but the rest of Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape is largely disjointed and at times nondescript. With a minimum track length of 7 minutes, the listener needs more reinforcement to stay grounded, especially in a setting where song intros and conclusions are regarded as optional. Ultimately, I don’t feel guided so much as roughly dragged through the majority of these long-form excursions.

Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape is a promising new sonic direction for Nullingroots after an extended absence, though it’s not without growing pains. I am convinced by the band members’ instrumental prowess, but less so by the songcraft. The first half goes down more smoothly than the second half, but the entire package isn’t sufficiently focused or cohesive. While it’s tough to wholeheartedly recommend Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape, with some tweaks and tightening, there’s a ton of potential for something really good to come. I’m (Nulling)rooting for them.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Release
Websites: nullingroots.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/nullingroots
Releases Worldwide: February 11th, 2026

Following a string of setbacks, barriers, and logistical complications, Aussie progressive rock/metal juggernaut Karnivool finally return with their hotly anticipated fourth opus, In Verses. After nearly thirteen years between drinks, the crafty quartet, from the far reaches and musical hotbed of Perth, Western Australia, make a welcome return for prog aficionados and longtime fans of the veteran collective, who flourished from crunchy alt metal and nü flavored beginnings, into a revered progressive band through three previous LPs of high quality. From the clever arrangements and blockbuster hooks of 2005’s Themata, through to the accomplished, complex Toolisms and evolving textures of stunning sophomore platter Sound Awake (2009), to the rawer, experimental edge of 2013’s Asymmetry, Karnivool’s discography is sparse yet undeniably excellent.

Approaching In Verses feels a little strange initially. Karnivool’s curious decision to gradually drip-feed half the album’s songs across numerous months lends a familiarity to those without the willpower to give in to temptation, ensuring several of the songs are well lived in before giving the entire opus full attention. Take, for instance, the stormy rhythmic thrust and instantly gratifying hooks of lead single “Drone” (released in July 2025) or the revamped, stuttering crunch of “All It Takes,” originally released back in 2021. These higher energy songs are scattered throughout an album that pivots into more measured, subdued progressive pathways, courtesy of several longer form melodic odysseys, rich in detail, slow burning builds, and emotive, gorgeous vocals from silky voiced frontman Ian Kenny.

Opener “Ghost” unfurls at a relaxed pace, ramping up tension before a delightfully heavy, Middle Eastern-esque groove kicks in. After doing the rounds in their live shows, it is cool to finally hear the song in its studio form. Its complex arrangement and grinding edge lend a darker, off-kilter punch before the infectious burst of “Drone” makes its impressive mark. In Verses largely maintains momentum, sequencing quibbles aside. The softer material and prog power balladry roughly consume half the album, finding Karnivool snaking down introspective, heartfelt pathways, while compromising elements of Karnivool’s signature heavier, energetic fare, leading to pangs of initial disappointment. Over time, these feelings subsided as the brooding tones, glistening melodies, and gentle swells washed over. Soaring mid-album cut “Conversations” comes replete with delicate guitar work undercutting earworm hooks that cut deep. From noodling, melancholic builds, to crunchier undertones and hooks that eventually penetrate the brain and prove tough to dislodge, “Reanimation” culminates with an epic, soul-tingling solo from prog veteran Guthrie Govan (The Aristocrats, Steven Wilson).

Following the infectious grooves and bright melodies of “Remote Self-Control”, In Verses wraps up with a pair of wrenching, lighter in the air ballads (“Opal,” and haunting, bagpiped-adorned “Salva”). Again, displaying the slow-burning unfurl, structural subtleties and pop sensibilities featuring prominently across the album’s mellower cuts. Kenny’s powerhouse singing has been a staple of the Aussie music scene for decades now, both with Karnivool and high-profile rockers (now the questionably pop-inclined) Birds of Tokyo. It’s another highlight reel performance, bolstering Karnivool’s muscular, progressive rock/metallic core with blockbuster hooks, singalong anthems, and an emotionally raw delivery. Drummer Steve Judd and bassist Jon Stockman lay a mighty foundation, through a complex, tightly synced mix of tricky rhythms and driving grooves, paving way for guitarists Drew Goddard and Mark Hosking to delve into their bag of tricks. Supplementing crushing bursts of technical riffage and chunky grooves with understated layers of texture and noodling prog excursions, the duo perform impressively.

Over an hour-long runtime, Karnivool mostly get things right, though astute editing in patches and sequencing to more effectively disperse the mellower fare and energetic numbers, creates lingering nitpicks. Thus, In Verses proves difficult to score. Much of the material achieves, or at least teeters on the cusp of greatness, though the minor bloat, uneven pacing, and ballad-heavy approach compromise the album’s undeniable strengths. Regardless, In Verses marks a nuanced, introspective step in Karnivool’s evolution, rewarding patience, while retaining the signature hallmarks, intelligent songwriting, and hooky accessibility curated over the past couple of decades. Definitely a grower, In Verses won’t change the minds of listeners previously unmoved by Karnivool. Another singular entry into the band’s outstanding repertoire, In Verses stays true to the winning facets that have led to Karnivool’s revered status. Falling narrowly short of the lofty heights of Themata or Sound Awake, flaws and all, In Verses triumphs on its own merits.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Cymatic Records
Websites: Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

Charm is a powerful drug. At the farthest extremes, charm can alter my perception at a fundamental level, warping what might otherwise be boring, unreliable, or even downright problematic things into something worth defending or even loving. But when it comes to music, charm—in measured doses, of course—allows me to fully enjoy the good in something flawed. This is what ultimately drew me to Greek doom startups Distorted Reflection in 2024, and now again in 2026.

2024’s Doom Rules Eternally introduced founding member Kostas Salodmidis’ new project to the world and established Distorted Reflection’s core of doom. Combining Candlemass riffs with Sorcerer drama and a touch of Sorrows Path shred, that core carries over unchanged into Doom Zone. Kostas’ beefy riffs and screaming solos remain as present as ever, and so does his shaky baritone croon. Vangelis gains greater presence with his bass here, which is a welcome improvement over the debut, burbling in lockstep with riffs and offering counterpoint during solo breaks. Filling out the lineup, Thomas Zen pounds the skins with a swinging stomp that suits this doom-laden material like a fitted suit, classy and reigned into the pocket at all times. It might not be the most exciting or unique formula, but it works.

Unfortunately, Doom Zone lacks the one thing that made Doom Rules Eternally worth covering: charm. Doom Zone isn’t completely soulless, but its flaws dominate my experience, leaving very little room for Distorted Reflection’s earnest delivery and competent riffcraft to shine. Evident from the onset of opener “3000 A.D.” and unrelenting throughout the runtime, Kostas’ vocals conspire to distract and detract at almost every opportunity. Unstable vibrato, strained upper range1, abysmal growls and repetitive melodic phrasing make tracks like “My Second Father,” “Gates of Paranoia,” “Tower of Dreams,” and “Morbid Reality” difficult to enjoy. Doom Zone’s songwriting is also noticeably weaker, suffering from a deeply repetitive structure and monotonous pacing that inevitably stalls any momentum individual elements (riffs, solos, choruses) initiate (“Asphyxiation,” “The Final Attempt”). It’s a good thing, then, that Doom Zone is short, clocking in at a responsible 39 minutes. Even so, it drags such that I routinely check my playback to see if I’m close to the end.

This is a shame, because Distorted Reflection are gifted musicians with great potential. Kostas filled Doom Zone with an arsenal of chunky riffs and high-octane solos (“3000 A.D.,” “Certain Death,” “Diminished,” “Morbid Reality”), many of which aptly reference the great works of the doom metal scene, though perhaps a bit too closely. Zen’s drumming is a perfect fit for this sound as well, and Vangelis’ bass noodling is a delight to hear with such clarity. More importantly, everybody understands their role and can play their instruments well enough to attract the spotlight without having to force it away from someone else. The overarching problem ultimately lies in the songwriting. With the exception of a few solid tracks at the album’s midpoint, like “Diminished,” Doom Zone wholly lacks the dynamics, the creativity, and the voice it needs to succeed.

Charm can go a long way to make me like something I would otherwise pass up. Distorted Reflection almost instantaneously lost the charm they once had after my time with Doom Zone. Unmemorable, uninspired, and at times downright irritating, Doom Zone fails to exhibit Distorted Reflection’s strengths in a way that overshadows their flaws. Instead, it accomplished the inverse. Flaws glare, making the process of picking out highlights a grind, and the experience of enjoying the good a chore. I still have hope that they can turn it around with album three, but as it stands, my recommendation is to leave Doom Zone behind while you traverse the doom zone.



Rating: Bad
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Iron Shield Records
Websites: distortedreflectiondoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/distortedreflectiondoom
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

This month's slightly late newsletter for Feb is on it's way to the email box all the beautiful lovers who asked for that.

The rest of you dirty warmongers will have to read it here:

https://dalliance.net/blog/feb26/

Featuring Love, Lights, War, and Green party wins. It has bits about AI and enshitification and all that

#newsletter #digest #feb26

Unlike some of our staff, I’ve never been in a band. However, I can imagine the feeling of satisfaction in putting together and releasing that first full-length record. For every band that achieves this milestone, countless more never do. Italy’s Borrower was nearly among that number. Formed in 1993, Borrower released three demos in the ’90s, a fourth in 2005, and then disappeared until 2018 with their debut EP. Whatever interrupted their musical career, the dream remained, and they finally released their first album (and signed to a label, to boot) 33 years later with their founding vocalist, Massano Ratano, and drummer, Frank Formoso, joined by new guitarists Matteo Marzo and Matteo Marini. Behold their vision, a story of killer, humanoid demons as told through music that harks back to some of the legends of ’80s and ’90s speed metal.

Granted, the concept of an album where each song tells a story about a distinctive demonic entity with its own unique “physical traits” and “specific weapon” is extremely silly, yet Killerdemons proves to be a catchy and cool affair. Borrower claim Motörhead, Judas Priest, and Dio as their main influences, and they write spare, riff-tastic tunes in their honor. The guitars carry much more heft than their influences, however, with enough reverb to take tunes dangerously close to stoner territory a lá High on Fire and Black Sabbath. This marriage between speed and stoner proves effective. “El Degollador” oscillates between lightning-fast, “Ace of Spades”-inspired riffs and slower, “War Pigs”-style stoner riffs in a performance that’s sure to give you whiplash. Taking a cue from AC/DC, Borrower keeps their song structures simple yet catchy. The rollicking “Stay Alive” best demonstrates this virtue with crisp songwriting and energetic pacing. Each track has distinctive riffs that are far more powerful than the demons it conjures.

In the eight years since their 2018 EP, A Plague Chapter…, Borrower has vastly improved their sound and instrumental prowess. The two Matteos have played a major role in this transformation. Marini’s fuzzy guitar tone adds heft where the EP’s guitars sounded tinny. His blending of Motörhead-style riffcrafting with the density of High on Fire and Mastodon adds an extra oomph to tracks like “Der Todessoldat” and “Tough Fight.” Marzo’s bass takes a commanding presence as well. He adds depth and backbone to the music, making his presence especially felt on the slower moments of “Knocking on the Coffins.” Formoso takes a restrained approach behind the kit, occasionally blasting the cymbals (“Dream on Fire”), but mostly setting the pace with an effective simplicity. The wild card of the group is vocalist Ratano. He seemingly channels Lemmy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Fozzie Bear in a truly strange, yet somehow endearing performance. His Italian accent, which drags out the words “kee-ler dee-mons” during the chorus of “Killerdemons,” adds a level of camp that contributes to the goofy fun.

While Borrower keeps Killerdemons to a concise 36 minutes, the record does falter on the two songs that stray from the 3-4 minute range. The first, “Knocking on the Coffins,” has some memorable riffs, including a cool, old school solo, but at over five minutes, it drags on a bit too long. Positioned between the album’s two best tracks, it also proves to be a major momentum killer. The biggest sore thumb, however, is the six-plus minute finale, “A Chaos Vortex.” Not only does it lack memorable riffs, but it falters in its final two minutes as the band sorely misjudges when to best wrap it up. Trimming 2-3 minutes from each of these songs would have immensely improved the album’s otherwise incredible pacing.

As I established last month, metal tends to invite some weird characters, and the killer demon universe created here is certainly an odd one. But that’s also what makes metal so much fun. Bands feel free to try out their off-the-wall ideas, from literary– or video game-inspired themes to the creation of fantasy or sci-fi realms. And sometimes these ideas actually work. Borrower finally sees through their vision, or at least the start of it, and presents it in such a catchy, cool way. I love to see original ideas performed with such care and passion, and I hope these guys continue to cultivate their ideas and musical talents.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

I’m going to come out and say it. Arch Enemy has done untold damage to female-fronted metal bands. While their influence is undeniable, every iteration of the band has featured monotone vocals, cringe-inducing lyrics, and leather-clad frontwomen. As a woman, I have no issue with these things in a vacuum, but in the larger music sphere, they created simultaneously high and absurdly low standards. Requiring frontwomen to be stereotypically hot, thin, and sport bright hair, while also plummeting standards on the musical side with their milquetoast melodeath slop. This is an ill omen for North Carolina’s Blackwater Drowning, seemingly following in Arch Enemy’s footsteps on a surface level, but do they make the same mistakes from a musical perspective, or are they influenced only in aesthetics?

Blackwater Drowning’s sophomore album, Obscure Sorrows, is at times a grab bag of popular metal cliches. Their latest is full of groovy, djent-laden riffs and chugging, staccato metalcore. Light orchestration adds obligatory bombast to intros and a few sections, while uninspired cleans occasionally show up as if they are a necessary evil. Vocalist Morgan Riley has more range and skill than their clear inspirations (Arch Enemy), but ultimately sits in the mid-range for far too long, and her clean singing lacks skill and panache. The highlight of Obscure Sorrows is guitarist Ron Dalton’s playing and the rich production (courtesy of Cryptopsy guitarist Christian Donaldson). Dalton’s riffs cover a wide range of styles, and the album highlight “Heir Of The Witch” is where the band should focus their sound, with its rolling energy and massive groove. Bassist Aria Novi shines due to the quality production, and frequently bolsters Dalton’s riffs and drummer Aamon Dalton’s technical hammering. There is no lack of talent across the band, but the whole crew seems too comfortable sitting in the mid-range, making for an album that bleeds together.

Obscure Sorrows’ biggest sin is its inability to shake things up. Across the ten tracks, they all sit in such similar spaces that they are hard to tell apart. Even song lengths are eerily similar, and they tend to reach for the same tired notes, making for music that lacks hooks. It feels harsh to lay so much at the feet of Blackwater Drowning, because the band clearly isn’t lacking in technical skill, but I think comparing songs to each other and treating the album as a whole shows a record that is far too safe and too middling in its soundscape. Clean singing makes occasional appearances but rarely stands out except on “Teeth and Claws,” which features some genuine atmosphere and brooding emotion.

Obscure Sorrows isn’t bad by any stretch, and the album opener, “The Sixth Omen,” features a roaring intro riff, even if it devolves into an uninspired chorus. The production elevates the album, and the clarity and crunch on display are admirable even if the source material doesn’t necessarily do it justice. “Washed Out, Washed Away” is backed by a crushing blackened death riff, and “Where Men Fear To Tread” showcases Morgan Riley’s skill on the low end alongside an anthemic chorus bookended by a teetering solo. “Teeth And Claws” evil lead riff helps the track ascend the mid-range soup and features some creative cleans from Riley.

In the end, Obscure Sorrows is an album I wanted to love, and with a bit of editing, variety, and focus on groove, Blackwater Drowning could truly stomp fools on their next record. As it stands, their latest is a competent, if safe, drop in the female-fronted melodeath bucket. Fans of the genre may get more out of it than I did, and they easily beat Arch Enemy at their own game, but Blackwater Drowning has a bit of work to do before they can truly drop the barn burner I know they are capable of. Luckily, this is a young band with a hopefully long career ahead of them, and as many say, the third time is the charm.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bleeding Art Collective
Websites: blackwaterdrowning.com | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Once upon a time, before I was a battle-jacket-wearing, corpse-paint-adorned, trve-metal warrior of the highest order, I was a high-school prog nerd. The djent wave was cresting just as I began to really delve deeper into music, and the hordes of technical, djenty bands with ultra-modern production and surprising amounts of melody still sit near and dear to my heart, even if I rarely reach back into the Sumerian-scented pile in my regular listening habits. 1 That’s why when I saw the promo for Hiraeth, the 2nd album by Brazilian prog metallers Abstracted, with comparisons to The Contortionist, The Human Abstract, and Between the Buried and Me, I couldn’t help but get a little excited at the prospect of newer music tapping into those formative sounds. Abstracted have been a band since 2013, and their long-gestating debut record, 2022’s Atma Conflux, was an effective and varied slab of djenty progressive death metal, marred by tepid production and less-than-stellar clean vocals. More than anything, though, it showed potential as a record brimming with ideas that was so close to being great. With Hiraeth, can the Brazilian group finally unify their influences into something more than the sum of their parts?

On Hiraeth, Abstracted demonstrates a thorough understanding of contemporary progressive metal styles and integrates them into something all their own. The band’s main sound is a djent-fueled take on modern progressive death metal, closest to early-era The Contortionist in its blending of odd-meter riffery, post-rock-influenced textures, and an enticing contrast between melancholic space-age cleans and technical 6-string chugs. Abstracted balance this with more traditional Haken-esque classic prog turnarounds and jazz breaks (“Sirens”), fast-paced Between the Buried and Me riff marathons (“To Quench This Insatiable Thirst”), and harmonic nuance within darker moments à la Persefone (“Requiem”). The result is a varied and dynamic set of tunes that glide effortlessly between impressive riff-fueled aggression and cathartic melodies. Songs like “The Utter End” and “The Barren Grave of God” demonstrate the band’s ability to naturally move from strength to strength without missing a beat, unfolding across expansive guitar arpeggios, delightfully off-kilter breakdowns, virtuosic solos, and powerful musical climaxes.

Hiraeth by Abstracted

This level of fluidity and genre cohesion on Hiraeth is only made possible by the high level of musicianship Abstracted display. Guitarists José Consani and Leonardo Brito give varied performances that successfully meld more djent-centric playing with classic death metal sensibilities and demonstrate keen melodic ears with dense jazz chords and powerful lead lines. Drummer Fernando Pollen blends Latin grooves with acrobatic modern metal flourishes, and the production’s more natural drum tone allows his dynamic nuances to guide several songs. 2 On bass, Riverton Alves turns in a thoroughly warm and jazz-based, Cynic-flavored performance that shines during quieter moments, while keyboardist Carol Lynn supplies plenty of atmosphere through subtle synth textures and steps to the forefront a few times with quirky, but effective synth lines reminiscent of Diego Tejeida. Together, this ensemble breathes plenty of life into a style of music that can often feel over-processed, and their performances help to unify this collection of songs into a cohesive whole.The only elements of Hiraeth that aren’t immediately impressive are the vocals and the production. Rosano Pedro Matiussi delivers an impassioned performance, and his vocal lines often fit the songs well, but his clean singing lacks a certain impact or personality to elevate good moments into great ones. Initially, this was enough to deter me from really digging deeper and appreciating the songcraft on display, but the singing grew on me quite a bit with time. Similarly, his death growls are solid, if not one-note, and they feel like they exist more so to fill a role than to accent particular sections. This could potentially be the production’s fault, as Hiraeth sounds generally good and more natural than the swaths of overproduced modern prog 3 but lacks a certain sonic clarity, occasionally making especially dense sections harder to parse. There’s a distinct lack of reverb on the harsh vocals, and I can’t help but wonder if a stronger mix could fit the layered clean singing a bit better. Matiussi’s vocals are far from bad, and there are parts like the somber intro to “Requiem” where he sounds great, but when everything else is operating at such a high level, they feel like a weak link.

With Hiraeth, Abstracted have delivered an impressive piece of modern progressive metal. This record is a grower for sure, with dense and layered compositions often revealing their clever construction and intense interconnectedness only after repeated spins. Even if the vocals leave a little to be desired, the Brazilian group has successfully combined the sounds of several of the best modern prog bands into something exciting and nuanced.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: abstractedmetal.bandcamp | facebook.com/abstractedbr
Releases Worldwide: February 20, 2026