In case you’re unfamiliar, The Epic of Gilgamesh is an ancient Mesopotamian poetic narrative, whose first complete form is dated to approximately 1800 BCE. It follows a story of King Gilgamesh and his dealings with gods and other mythic monsters, culminating in a journey for the secret of immortality.1 What better way could there be to consume this rich, literary epic than have it interpreted by the collection of artists behind From the Waters of Death? Obscure black/doom duo Swords of Dis; death metal veteran and experimenter Serpent Ascending; Neptunian Maximalism’s darker, heavier incarnation Ôros Kaù; and ambient-black dreamer Midnight Odyssey. All are infamous—if you know who they are—for their strange, unconventional styles and love for long-form expression that borders on the self-indulgent, which may make them ideally suited to a Gilgamesh retelling. You may already be experiencing a sinking feeling of dread at those name-drops. But together these artists achieve something that exceeded my expectations even as it met them squarely.

While appearing to be a split, Waters is more of a collaboration as each individual contributes vocal or instrumental talents across multiple songs, including on those they wrote and take the lead in themselves. Spearheading the whole thing are Richard and Alice Corvinus of Swords of Dis, who have a hand in all lyrics and appear on every track. These lyrics, inspired by the words of the epic itself, consist of narration interspersed with dialogue between the various characters, and the five musicians rotate and share roles depending on who is involved in the corresponding part of the story. 2 This improves the album’s internal coherence—which might otherwise be hindered in a split format—whilst also allowing each movement to take on the personality of its lead artist. As a form of adaptation, the five tracks of reverb-filled, noisy, strange, melodramatically or demoniacally vocally-led, black-adjacent fringe metal lean into the grand, frightening side to the tale whose gravity us modern-age folk probably can’t appreciate properly. And it’s that excessive, almost absurd commitment to being different, which—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—actually works.

From The Waters Of Death by SWORDS OF DIS

Drama is at the heart of oral poetic tradition, and it’s Waters’ drama that similarly grounds its best aspects. Utmost credit goes to Alice Corvinus and her fierce (“From Egalmah They Rode…”3, operatic (“Araru Births the Lord of the Wilderness,” “From Egalmah…,” “Blood Stains The Altar…”4), sometimes eerie (“Into the Wailing Darkness”5) vocal performance. Her presence dominates as she provides some narration in addition to voicing every female character (and there are a lot of goddesses involved). Dark, minor tremolo refrains and Middle-Eastern-inspired melodies support her delivery, and the theatrical, flowing style Swords of Dis employ lends itself to this expression perfectly. In a different vein, the inhumanly gurgling snarls of Guillaume Cazalet (Ôros Kaù) make for a barbed contrast to otherwise vague, even beautiful, passages (“Blood…”), and can be genuinely frightening (“Into The Wailing Darkness”). All vocals—clean or harsh—are odd to a degree, sometimes even off-putting (“Araru…”). Yet most breaches of the cringe line are brief, and ameliorated by interesting instrumentation (“Blood…,” “From the Setting…”6). Those totally averse to what we anaemically refer to as ‘avant-garde’ in extreme metal can beg to differ, but the back and forth between dissonance and harmony (“Araru…,” “Blood…”), and between uncomfortable slowness and sudden speed (“From the Setting…”), is not only well-performed, it makes sense for the record’s narrative concept. A journey represented through a monotonous pattern (“From Egalmah…,” “From the Setting…”), the fury of a deity by means of an operatic surge (“From Egalmah…”).

Waters embodies the manner of epic poetry so well, however, that its digestibility is harmed as well as helped. Whether appropriate or not, its near-90-minute runtime makes engaging with its entirety a daunting prospect, and this is a record that fares best when you do give it the time and space to immerse you.7 The very aptness of the compositional style—long repetitive sections on the one hand, and frequent switches between tempo, melody, and vocalist on the other—which mimics recitation amongst orators, can prove taxing. It creates a dynamic of brilliant moments and stand-out performances, scattered unevenly inside overextended filling. It’s perhaps not a coincidence that the album’s midsection—the two tracks led by masterminds Swords of Dis—is by far the best and most even in quality, whereas its final act—Midnight Odyssey’s—is the least engaging and unable to support its length.8

Though Waters cannot escape the idiosyncrasies of the artists behind it—and so inherently restricts its audience—as an expression of this epic poem, these approaches to black metal are surprisingly apt. If you have the time to go on this adventure with Serpent Ascending, Ôros Kaù, Swords of Dis, and Midnight Odyssey, there’s plenty to enjoy. But if nothing else, let it be an excuse to learn about the original myth that inspires such weird, sometimes wonderful music.

Rating: Good(!)
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Album BC | Serpent Ascending BC | Serpent Ascending FB | Ôros Kaù BC | Ôros Kaù FB | Swords of Dis BC | Swords of Dis FB | Midnight Odyssey BC | Midnight Odyssey FB
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

I don’t know if Garry Brents is the busiest person in metal, but he’s active enough that I worry for his work-life balance. In 2025 alone, Brents cranked out releases for multiple projects, including Sallow Moth’s latest platter, Mossbane Lantern. This is death metal for purveyors of the unrepentantly weird, especially those who indulge in sci-fi and fantasy. From a storytelling perspective, Mossbane Lantern takes an anthological approach in describing experiences that assorted characters have with the titular artifact.1 To capture these events through song, Brents casts a wide, chaotic net of sounds and influences. While it doesn’t fit neatly under either technical or brutal death metal, Mossbane Lantern cherry picks elements of each and infuses them with enough avant-garde, proggy nuttiness to trigger an allergic reaction. All told, Sallow Moth establishes a firmly singular take on death metal.

Though Sallow Moth has consistently embraced the unconventional, Mossbane Lantern ratchets up the stylistic fluidity from previous outings. In particular, the band takes Artificial Brain’s off-kilter, melodic sensibilities and inhuman gutturals, then weds them with Igorrr’s knack for unpredictable stutter-stops and abrupt musical shifts. With this foundation, Brents injects jazz-riddled Ingurgitating Oblivion accents and Cynic aesthetics under accelerated paces, giving Mossbane Lantern so many dimensions that juggling them would be disastrous in less-capable hands. Fear not, for Sallow Moth’s execution achieves the daunting vision laid out, beguiling with wackadoo impishness that’s as sure to bring a smile to your face as make you ask yourself, “What the fuck am I listening to?”2

Mossbane Lantern by Sallow Moth

Listening to Mossbane Lantern without context is a fun and brutal experience, but Sallow Moth’s true magic reveals itself once grounded in its world-building. Without getting too mired in lore, the eponymous Lantern allows users to teleport across distances great and small, though unexpected outcomes occur when the Lantern commingles with varied beings and enchantments. Musically, this allows a common thematic presence in the Mossbane Lantern itself while not strictly adhering to a single story. “Cauldron Brim Neurosilk” and “Runemilk Amulet” portray characters under chemical duress, urgently lurching between techy, fetid death metal and trip-hop, signaling when the pendulum of madness swings. Similarly, “Psionic Battery” and “Aethercave Boots” describe artifacts designed to aid with the Lantern’s use. When side effects emerge, psychedelic embellishments clue listeners in to the events’ warped natures. Through it all, Sallow Moth assaults listeners with fretless (and fretted) bass, guitar squeals, croaks, and more, keeping them off-balance as the music continuously evolves.

Such an absurd concept shouldn’t work this well, but Sallow Moth’s unhinged melting pot of jazzy intonations, bowel-churning gurgles, and genre-bending mayhem makes Mossbane Lantern a can’t-miss romp. As a fan of the bizarre and grotesque within metal, there are few (if any) facets of Mossbane Lantern I haven’t heard before, but the way Sallow Moth chucks the pieces into an industrial-grade blender and sets it to ‘Liquify’ is utterly novel and rewards multiple spins. Some listeners may find the adventure too jarring for their liking, but after spending time with Mossbane Lantern, I don’t find its components haphazard or incidental. Just the opposite—there’s a method to Sallow Moth’s madness, though it requires patience to appreciate. So grab your gear, head for Mossbane Lantern’s light, and prepare to get weird. It’s a trip you don’t want to miss.

Tracks to Check Out: “Icegorger Gauntlets,” “Psionic Battery,” “Cauldron Brim Neurosilk,” “Runemilk Amulet”

Weeping Sores – The Convalescence Agonies [Things You Might Have Missed 2025]

By Creeping Ivy

Pleasure—as Judas Priest, sadomasochists, and Flagellants teach us—can be found in pain. Doug Moore and Stephen Schwegler, the guitar/drum duo behind Weeping Sores, also teach this lesson with The Convalescence Agonies. As its title suggests, the sophomore Weeping Sores album chronicles Moore’s recovery from a shoulder injury that, quite unfortunately, prevented him from playing guitar.1 Quite fortunately for us, Moore sublimates his agony into the listener’s ecstasy with The Convalescence Agonies. Debut False Confession received high praise here, making the 2019 lists of Saunders (Honorable Mention), Cherd of Doom (#8), and Ferrous Beuller (#4). On its follow-up, Weeping Sores deliver a leaner, lusher, and eminently listable slab of death-doom.

On The Convalescence Agonies, Weeping Sores level up by scaling back. False Confession established that Moore and Schwegler of Pyrrhon fame could successfully craft a more plodding, brooding death metal, sounding like Morbid Angel making proclamations to My Dying Bride. At 56 minutes with multiple 9- and 10-minute songs, however, the album definitely fatigues. In comparison, The Convalescence Agonies clocks in at 43 minutes, energizing the listener by lurking towards its epic compositions. Moore’s climbing guitar and anguished screams in “Arctic Summer” segue into “Empty Vessel Hymn,” a heater showcasing Schwegler’s jazzy hands. The mid-album climax, “Sprawl in the City of Sorrow,” spreads chunky, blasty, and militaristic riffs across 9 breezy minutes. “Pleading for the Scythe” mixes delicate chords, lumbering beatdowns, and off-kilter shredding, setting the stage for the title track. “The Convalescence Agonies,” a 14-minute monster, boasts the stankiest, dumpiest chuggery on the entire album. Without compromising the scope of its songwriting, Weeping Sores have crafted a tighter, better-paced album than the debut.

False Confession stans might weep when learning that the violin of Gina Hendrika Eygenhuysen does not appear on The Convalescence Agonies. In its place is the cello of Annie Blythe, which directs a broader ensemble of ancillary instrumentation. Like Eygenhuysen’s violin, Blythe’s cello often occupies center stage, dramatizing sparse verses (“Arctic Summer”) and blasty tremolos (“The Convalescence Agonies”). Arguably, the deeper tone of the cello better suits the music, feeling like an extension of the scooped guitar tone. Weeping Sores also incorporate keyboards from Brendon Randall-Myers (Scarcity), which add a refined, almost proggy aura to caveman breakdowns and hyperspeed chugging (“Pleading for the Scythe”). There’s even banjo in “Sprawl…,” commingling with Blythe’s percussive cello to make a demented guitar lead far more unsettling.2 Some listeners will miss the brighter, more melodically commanding presence of the violin. The Convalescence Agonies more than makes up for Eygenhuysen’s absence, however, with its wider array of sonic textures.

As Moore howls on the title track, the body’s pain ‘teaches nothing…no gift / But the passion of transfiguration.’3 Pain may not teach anything to the suffering speaker or Moore himself, but The Convalescence Agonies teaches us that Weepings Sores is one of the most promising contemporary death-doom projects. Moore and Schwegler have transfigured False Confession into something more beautiful without sacrificing their disgustingly awesome death metal core. Sadly, this TYMHM treatment may not arrive in time to register during Listurnalia. Consider, then, The Convalescence Agonies an honorary Honorable Mention for me (and several others around here, I suspect).

Tracks to Check Out: “Arctic Summer,” “Sprawl in the City of Sorrow,” “The Convalescence Agonies”

#2025 #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #DoomMetal #IVoidhangerRecords #MorbidAngel #MyDyingBride #Pyrrhon #Scarcity #TheConvalescenceAgonies #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2025 #TYMHM #USMetal #WeepingSores

Fleshvessel – Obstinacy: Sisyphean Dreams Unfolded Review

By Spicie Forrest

Sisyphus is my favorite character in Greek mythology. It’s why I picked up Obstinacy: Sisyphean Dreams Unfolded, the sophomore release from US-based metal vanguard, Fleshvessel. You see, not only does Sisyphus cheat Death twice—which in itself is hella metal—but in being damned to eternally roll a boulder uphill, he becomes an allegory for the human experience. This endless toil and glorification of the struggle serves as the thematic foundation for Obstinacy, revolving around “our own stubbornness/persistence as human beings and how it can be both a detriment to, or deliverance from, our collective and individual struggle for a better world.”1 Fleshvessel has successfully handled such heady concepts in the past. Can they do it again?

A warped amalgamation of prog and avant-garde ambition, Fleshvessel occupies the most outer rim of death metal. As on 2023’s Yearning: Promethean Fates Sealed, Fleshvessel ranges far and wide for their vision. To realize Obstinacy: Sisyphean Dreams Unfolded, Fleshvessel calls upon over 20 instruments,2 cinematic and literary samples,3 and at least ten different musical styles.4 This dizzying array of instruments and influences allows Fleshvessel to create a unique kind of concept album. Rather than telling a single story among several songs, Obstinacy functions as an anthology, each track a vibrant and unique vignette. Even though “Am,” for instance, has a distinctly cyberpunk feel compared to the epic, symphonic bent of “It Lurched from a Chasm in the Sky,” all four songs still orbit the same Sisyphean motif.

Fleshvessel’s ability to beat this chaotic mixture into submission is impressive, to say the least. Each instrument, each musical passage blends and bleeds together with a compositionally brilliant hand. It may not always be subtle, pleasant, or intuitive, but there is an undeniable and masterful flow to Obstinacy. The frenetic death metal that opens “Mental Myiasis” quickly lays down in a cosmic mire, where a guitar solo, spiraling into a tortured register, transforms into synths so subtly that I often missed the transition. Later in the same song, a beautiful, symphonic passage smoothly whips up into psychotic synths, death metal, and a deranged, “Flight of the Bumblebee”-esque piano before ultimately concluding on a bluesy guitar solo served hard-boiled. A mid-song synthwave melody in “Am” heralds the coming guitar riff, while operatic vocals help smooth over the transition and maintain the song’s cybernetic atmosphere. After listening to Obstinacy, I don’t think there’s anything Fleshvessel couldn’t fluidly incorporate into their sound.

Twelve criticized the programmed drums and pacing issues on Yearning, but neither concern is present here. Unfortunately, Obstinacy’s got its own shortcomings. While Fleshvessel’s songcraft is architecturally astounding, that doesn’t necessarily make it enjoyable. “Cessation Fixation” features a bass solo like a Seinfeld transition and some noir ambience reminiscent of Final Fantasy VII, while “It Lurched from a Chasm in the Sky” houses some groovy space jazz and a Middle Eastern percussion solo.5 It all fits together from a technical perspective, but such experimental infusions often strain the limits of agreeability. Fleshvessel also introduces a new “heavy metal falsetto” vocal style that feels almost parodic. It’s objectively and intentionally bad. I am quite certain that it’s integral to Fleshvessel’s vision, but to these ears, it’s a bizarre and grating performance. As Mrs Forrest would euphemistically say, “it’s certainly a choice.”

Fleshvessel is unquestionably comprised of exceptional musicians and composers. Lesser hands could never weave such a vast and varied tapestry as Obstinacy: Sisyphean Dreams Unfolded. Gnarly time signatures and polyrhythmic instrumentation smash and stitch together what should be mutually exclusive elements in a beautifully disfigured testament to the human experience. But technically masterful though Obstinacy is, the scope and prevalence of its experimentation greatly hamper its subjective, emotional, or euphonic accessibility. Ultimately, Obstinacy feels like a proof of concept, showcasing the furthest reaches of possibility. Die-hard prog fans and those with a passion for music theory may get more mileage out of Obstinacy: Sisyphean Dreams Unfolded, but for most, this will reinforce that just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

#25 #2025 #AmericanMetal #AvantGarde #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #Dec25 #ExperimentalMetal #Fleshvessel #IVoidhangerRecords #ObstinacySisypheanDreamsUnfolded #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews

Tzevaot – The Hermetic Way Review

By Thus Spoke

Oh, to have half the confidence of the average solo artist dabbling in the esoteric. Their avant-garde opuses can’t all be the status-quo-subverting masterworks of music and philosophy they claim to be. For some reason, I, Voidhanger keeps signing them, and for equally opaque reasons, we keep choosing to review their albums. Tzevaot is the experimental black metal1 project of an individual known only as The Orator, who in The Hermetic Way explores occult ideas purported to unveil “actual hidden mechanisms of reality,” with heavy inspiration from the magical tradition made popular by who else but Aleister Crowley. And while everything from the flowery promo blurb to the time-stamped lyrics2 and the solemn spoken-word poetry tries to convince you of its significance. The Hermetic Way completely fails to impart much more than consternation.

It’s difficult to know where to even begin with The Hermetic Way, and its brand of wisdom. At every turn, things somehow go wrong. The core sound is something akin to Esoctrilihum—barking screams, twisty guitars, and a propensity for echo on everything—only with a mix you’d barely forgive a bedroom project for, and a compositional style that makes said Esoctrilihum sound catchy. Tzevaot jumbles synths, piano, and guitars that seem to hit upon a genuine groove of Emperor-esque theatrics or Absu-level style completely by accident; the fact that the best melodies are never reprised only supports this theory. The drumming—which may well be a machine for all I can discern3—is flat and dull, buried by the wall of heavy reverb between the sharp stab of the vocals and the other instruments. This intensifies the feeling of aggravated confusion that defines the listening experience, as one struggles to keep up with the nonsensical rhythmic trades, sudden inclusion of solo synth or piano, and yet more spoken-word. This is not the nuanced placelessness of an intelligent, complex extreme metal, where discordance and strange rhythms develop impossibly but seamlessly into new forms; this is a mess.

As with many similar works of art, all of The Hermetic Way’s failures arise from the hubris of their creator. The indulgence of every idea, at the expense of their development, integration, and refinement, causes the record to swing pendulously between mind-numbing boredom and toe-curling cringe. Without fail, songs go in the most annoying possible direction, dropping tension like a hot potato and throwing out a rare good musical passage in favour of the most jarring refrains (“Solve et Coagula,” “Pyres of Meaning Light the New Aeon’s Way”), or another arrangement of noise to a jaunty tempo that makes a mockery of the previous composition (“Zosimos the Alchemist”). Elements are often so poorly integrated, that sections clearly designed for drama—stripped-back keys or solemn recitations—fail to land; the sample of famed occult author Lon Milo DuQuette is barely audible past the fickle interchanges of organs, riffs, and drums. The Oracle persistently delivers vocals in a monotonous, rapid-fire bark that gets grating fast, particularly when combined with Tzevaot’s fondness for stacking tempos and synth accompaniments like dominos one after another. But I would listen to hours of all the above barks rather than sit just once more through horror show “The Hero of Megiddo,” a skin-crawling ditty whose redemptive brevity is made moot by its being the only thing on the record with a memorable tune, causing the perverse singing and jangling chords to turn around in your brain like an inescapable merri-go-round.

Most painful of all is that The Hermetic Way could have been so much better. Tzevaot might try to borrow the label of “jazz” to elevate whatever’s going on with piano and cymbals at various points. While that’s not really justified, it’s nonetheless striking that every single isolated passage of good music on The Hermetic Way involves piano4 (“The Emerald Tablet of Thoth,” “Air Fire Water Earth,” “Metempsychosis”). These fleeting moments, which comprise approximately five percent of the runtime combine key slides and arpeggios in a stylish, interesting way that’s very cool, and variously reminiscent of Wreche, Vengeur, and once again Emperor. In an hour of music that is otherwise so exhausting, this is obviously not enough. By the time the best parts of the album arrive in closer “Metempsychosis,” you’re likely too checked out to care, if you’re even still listening.

The Hermetic Way’s title is apt. Not only as it divulges supposed profound truths through the visionary teachings of the self-imposed hermit, who has reached enlightenment through years of solitary contemplation. But also because that’s quite a good analogy for the solo metal musician of the esoteric bent. Maybe Tzevaot harbors real genius, and I’m simply too blind and deaf to see or hear it in their work. More likely it’s another case of talent foiled by delusion.

Rating: Bad
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 265 kb/s mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#15 #2025 #avantGardeMetal #blackMetal #emperor #esoctrilihum #esotericBlackMetal #experimentalMetal #iVoidhangerRecords #nov25 #review #reviews #theHermeticWay #tzevaot

Tempestuous Fall – The Descent of Mortals Past Review

By ClarkKent

In 2012, Australia’s Dis Pater released the debut record for his third active—at the time—one-man project: The Stars Would Not Awaken You by Tempestuous Fall, a work of epic funeral doom. The following year, Pater released what might be the strangest split I’ve heard of: a three-way between his own active projects. It ended up being a “[three] men enter, one man leaves” kind of deal, with Midnight Odyssey being the lone survivor.1 In that time, he has contributed to several other bands, from a Greek black metal group, Kawir, to a Slovakian black metal group, Aeon Winds, as well as a whopping nine LPs for Midnight Odyssey. Yet something about the funeral doom of Tempestuous Fall must have called Pater back. Backed by classical symphonic elements, it turns out he had rather ambitious goals for sophomore album, The Descent of Mortals Past.

The Descent of Mortals Past is a concept album focused on six mythological figures and their unfortunate adventures to the underworld. With themes based in the classics, and even some lyrics in Latin, it should be no surprise that Tempestuous Fall takes a classical approach to the music. “Theseus – Encased in the Stones of Hades” opens with some gorgeous, serene strings before adding on the usual funeral doom trappings of a heavy guitar and glacial pacing. You’ll also hear the melancholic tinkling of piano keys on songs like “Heracles – Dark is the Home of the Underworld,” showing off Pater’s versatility and ingenuity. It’s remarkable the way he melds these classical elements with doom guitars and growls to create lush, hooky funeral doom. “Psyche – Temptation of the Divine” goes all out, bringing in church organs, choral chants and hums, and operatic vocals from guest singer Alice Corvinus (Swords of Dis). This beautiful tune provides such an enticing melody you might follow it to the gates of Hades.

Of course, on the classics you don’t hear singers using demonic growls, but Tempestuous Fall might make them rethink that choice. Pater takes a My Dying Bride approach—alternating between low growls and cleans. He may not be as powerful as Aaron Stainthorpe, but he’s still effective. His growls contrast with the classical melodies and deliver the lyrics poetically, while his cleans provide memorable choruses that make you want to sing along. When the heavy guitars first join the strings on “Theseus…,” it’s a shock to the system like taking the polar plunge in nothing but your underpants. But they add a darkness and melancholy that’s fitting for doomed trips to the underworld. The production is a bit of a let-down, however, as the guitars take on a buzzy quality rather than the muscle of Evoken. Yet there is a charm to this raw, lo-fi quality that takes me back to the earlier Opeth records like Morningrise.

The back half of The Descent of Mortals Past has some unfortunate inconsistencies that keep it from matching the fantastic first half. None of these songs are bad, just different. The first is “Ulysses – Requiem of the Sea,” a doom cover of Mozart’s “Lacrimosa.” It’s a very cool track, but it also feels unoriginal, especially since it is among the most played classical tunes in modern pop culture—almost to the level of parody. Similarly, “Orpheus – In Dark Deathly Grey” is also quite good, but its focus on acoustics makes it sound more at home on a Dolven record than a symphonic funeral doom set. The finale, “Aeneas – Guide Me Home,” is a return to form that fits in much better with the front half. Like these earlier songs, it has strings, doom, and some melodic leads and cleans that end the LP on an uplifting note. Yet, being the longest tune at eleven minutes, it’s the only one that feels like it drags on due to too much repetition. Individually, the songs on the back half are solid and probably keep the record from sounding stale, yet they also break a spell the first half weaves.

While it doesn’t quite reach the level of last week’s Oromet, Tempestuous Fall has written another worthy platter of funeral doom for 2025. With how The Descent of Mortals Past sounds, it is understandable why Pater wanted to return to this funeral doom project after a thirteen-year hiatus. He has an ear for epic yarns, and his injection of doom adds gravity to the classics. I just hope that he doesn’t wait another thirteen years to release the next one.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #35 #aeonWinds #australianMetal #dolven #evoken #funeralDoom #iVoidhangerRecords #kawir #midnightOdyssey #mozart #myDyingBride #nov25 #opeth #oromet #review #reviews #swordsOfDis #symphonicMetal #tempestuousFall #theDescentOfMortalsPast

Hasard – Abgnose Review

By ClarkKent

Audiences flock to horror films or novels to see or imagine perilous situations that put lives in danger. There’s a thrill in vicariously experiencing that existential threat to one’s life. Horror in music is a little different. There are musical scores, like for Jaws and Psycho, that enhance the terror of the imagery, and there are also horror-themed albums, especially in metal. The horror in the latter mainly involves gory cover art or the use of frightening sound effects à la Fulci or Ice Nine Kills. Hazard, however, takes a different approach with his Hasard project: writing music meant to terrify in a real, non-campy way. His latest, Abgnose, features a creature on its cover that could find a home in a Guillermo del Toro fantasy horror flick. Instead of focusing on visceral terror, Hazard aims at a more philosophical, existential horror. The word “abgnose,” which Hazard coined, describes the idea of removing the divine from our lives and “leaving only the despair of having to live and not be rewarded for our actions in this world.” If that sounds like a good time, then dive right in.

Hasard’s debut, Malivore, impressed El Cuervo so much that he named it his favorite record of 2023. He hailed it both as “the year’s most thought-provoking music” and “the year’s most thought-crushing music.” While dissonant, “noisy” music isn’t usually my forte, I also found something about Malivore’s atmosphere and compositions beguiling. Abgnose continues where Malivore left off—horror-tinged symphonic black metal that uses jarring, dissonant instrumentals to get under your skin. Hazard recorded everything himself—the menacing strings, pummeling blast beats, suspenseful horns, eerie synths, and reverberating guitars that create an unsettling atmosphere. Hazard also shrieks and growls in otherworldly, sinister tones. This music is not for the faint of heart.

If you only know Hazard from his other project, Les Chants du Hasard, you’d be hard-pressed to recognize what you hear on Abgnose. Hazard’s strength in both projects is his song compositions. Though each track on Abgnose is at least 7 minutes, they rarely feel it. They are mesmerizing, action-packed, and exciting thanks to the fast tempo drums, synths, and strings. Dynamic tempo shifts and subtle variations in instrumentation keep each song fresh and engaging. The orchestrals make it easy to imagine Hasard’s work serving as the soundtrack to a classical horror film like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari or Nosferatu, while the booming bass drums and off-key percussion of “Senestral” could serve as the theme music for a Darth Vader-like villain. When those horns blare out their menacing tune on “Oniritisme,” it’ll bring you back to your childhood days when you hid under the covers during the scary parts. At this point, however, it has only just begun.

Hazard has composed an album of sheer, unnerving terror, and the first four songs are as brilliant as anything on Malivore. Unfortunately, Abgnose loses momentum on the final track, “Abgnose.” El Cuervo noted that fatigue and a “brickwalled master” held back his score on Malivore, but Hasard has addressed this latter issue with much better production values. Now with ten songs credited to this intense project, it seems the fatigue might be a more difficult issue to address. Having “Abgnose” as the final track doesn’t help. It relies much more on reverb and less on the strings and horns more prevalent in other songs, making it the least dynamic of the bunch. Hazard’s vocal style also changes, sounding louder and more grating. That constant noise and despair become wearying, and for ten minutes, you feel an oppressive weight. Perhaps, in a sense, “Abgnose” succeeds too well.

Hasard remains a singular experience. Much of what El Cuervo said about Malivore still applies, yet Abgnose doesn’t quite replicate its excellence. I can’t help but wonder where Hazard takes Hasard next. Will he continue in the same vein or bring in something new? He started Hasard, after all, due to fatigue following the third album from Les Chants du Hasard. But working on Hasard must have breathed new life into Les Chants du Hasard. In 2024, they released Livre Quart, taking that project down a more menacing path than prior records, and it’s a pretty remarkable album. It’s clear that Hazard is seeking to perfect his nightmarish sound, one way or another, and he has nearly done it on Abgnose.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: September 5th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Abgnose #BlackMetal #FrenchMetal #Fulci #Hasard #IVoidhangerRecords #IceNineKills #LesChantsDuHasard #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #SymphonicMetal

#NeptunianMaximalism

#LeSacreDuSoleilInvaincu
#IVoidhangerRecords 2025

Gracias a las fantásticas novedades de #Bandcamp, me encuentro con el genial #nuevodisco de queridos y viejos amigos

https://neptunianmaximalism.bandcamp.com/album/le-sacre-du-soleil-invaincu

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Labyrinthine Heirs – Labyrinthine Heirs Review

By Tyme

Eclectic Texan quartet Labyrinthine Heirs is ready to float their self-titled debut album, partnered with I, Voidhanger Records, which has one of the most diverse rosters in the metalverse. All four musicians come from different musical walks of life, and given the label partner, I expected that the music on Labyrinthine Heirs would be off-kilter at a minimum. With Léon François Comerre’s excellent cover painting in view but very little to go on by way of Labyrinthine Heirs‘ history, I was intrigued by the promo blurb, which quoted vocalist Evan Sadler as saying, ‘The plan was to marry the sound of Touch and Go Records artists like The Jesus Lizard and Shellac with that of Celtic Frost and Virus.’ I was a big fan of Goat in the 90s and love Celtic Frost to this day, so I was excited to hear how Labyrinthine Heirs would attempt to pull this feat off.

Apropos and in keeping with I, Voidhanger tradition, the Labyrinthine Heirs‘ sound, an alternative mix of blackish death metal, presents a descriptive sticky wicket. Comparisons with The Jesus Lizard are valid here, and a fair amount of Written in Waters era Ved Buens Ende is at play.1 Samuel Kang’s (Cathexis) guitar work is distinctly crisp, full of plucky riffs (“Brick Refusers Quartered”), cascading shimmers of dissonance, and circusy leads (“The Loop of Human Flesh Told in Perpetuity”). In lock-step accompaniment is the slap-happy bass work of Bryan Camphire (ex Bloody Panda) and the understated drumming of Anthony Brownlow, all three creating a hypnotizing flow over which vocalist Evan Sadler can drape his raspy, spoken-word delivery. Labyrinthine Heirs certainly sounds impressive, but one of the problems with hypnosis is that the subject eventually falls asleep.

Colin Marston’s master of Labyrinthine Heirs is warm and inviting, highlighting the interplay between the guitars and rhythm section while providing enough wide, organic spaces to hear every separate instrument on its own and simultaneously. Like how a dog can smell each ingredient in that stew on your stovetop individually while still smelling the whole thing. The opening track, “Brick Refusers Quartered,” with the guitar and bass playfully splashing in puddles of dissonance, pulls you immediately into Labyrinthine Heirs‘ web and ushers you through the next thirty-seven minutes. Sadler strays from his go-to mono-rasp to bring some ear-catching dynamism in the form of screeching screams, vomits, chokes, and coughs (“The Loop of Human Flesh Told in Perpetuity,” “The Conceited Determination of Nimrod”) and this reminds me of the vocals from some of Nattefrost‘s nastier solo work at times. I was also thankful for these moments since they were some of the few to rouse me from my slumberous hypnosis.

Labyrinthine Heirs packs a fair number of ideas into Labyrinthine Heirs‘ five tracks.2 The biggest problem is that nearly every idea sounds the same. In its entirety, Labyrinthine Heirs never strays from the sonic palette introduced on the opening track. Nearly every time I arrived at the fifth and final song, “Yaldabaoth Gored to Blindness,” I was surprised to discover that almost 30 minutes of music had passed with nary a blip on my radar of interest to show for it, which brings us to the crux of my problem with Labyrinthine Heirs debut, and that is its overwhelming sense of similitude. All five songs suffer from reciprocating guitar techniques that, combined with the steady slap n’ tap bass, reserved drums, and raspily spoken lyrics, shroud the whole in a drone-like pall.

My relationship with I, Voidhanger, Records, is like a series of coin flips. There always seems to be a fifty-fifty chance I’ll enjoy what I hear or be equally content to let it pass. I’ve found many gems (Creature, Neptunian Maximalism, Yhdarl), to name a few, but I’ve discovered stinkers that balance the equation for each one. Labyrinthine Heirs may be deserving of their I, Voidhanger, roster spot. However, I don’t find this debut engaging enough to keep my attention, so I can’t fully recommend it. There are flashes on Labyrinthine Heirs that will have me on the lookout for its follow-up, but I prefer to pass on this.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records | Facebook
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2025

#25 #2025 #AlternativeMetal #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #IVoidhangerRecords #LabyrinthineHeirs #Mar2025 #Review #TheJesusLizard #VedBuensEnde

Venomous Echoes – Dysmor Review

By Grymm

I’ve told many friends, both online and in-person, that for death metal to connect with me these days, it’s got to go for my throat in unflinching, unapologetic ways, and that usually involves taking one of two avenues. Either the artist in question has to go all-out musically in a way that’s memorable yet uncompromisingly heavy, brutal, technical, chaotic, or all of the above, or the music has to come from a place of personal sincerity and experience. With Venomous Echoes, the project of sole mastermind Ben Vanweelden, it’s a maelstrom of frightening proportions brought on by Vanweelden’s personal struggles with body dysmorphia.1 Dysmor, the project’s third album, further explores a topic that far too many people experience in silence with unfaltering intensity.

In just a hair under 46 minutes, Dysmor tells the tale of an unfortunate soul trapped in a hell of their own mental and physical image. Riffs swirl and undulate like slimy, breathing walls trapping you within its calculating vortex, with Vanweelden snarling and screaming in a barely hinged fashion, recalling both The Curator (Portal) and Peter Benjamin (Voices) in delivery and intensity. Programmed blastbeats pummel you into and through the shattered earth. Even the saxophone that opens up “Walls of Memories and Despair” warns you that things aren’t going to be okay going forward. But these things alone, while all good and everything that metalheads love and crave, aren’t going to be enough to make a lasting impact.

No, the real prize here is how well everything ties together thematically. It’s not easy to write music that’s barely tied together with the most frayed of twine, yet have it get its message across, but Vanheelden made it flow somehow. The odd groove that happens in the middle of “Walls of Memories and Despair” would have easily derailed the insanity that precedes and follows it, but it works. “Broken” starts of with a tranquil-enough piano melody before even that warps and distorts into something sinister and uncomfortable. Speaking of uncomfortable, the sad, subdued sobbing that punctuates just past the halfway mark of closing highlight “The Begetter” indicates that something terrible is going to happen, with the following riffs and closing atmospherics that would make The Great Old Ones proud pretty much confirming all suspicions.

Dysmor sounds appropriately grimy and discommoding, barely kissing against aural cacophony but not quite going beyond that line. With riffs slicing and julienning and a pissed-off drum machine laying waste to everything, anyone could see Dysmor getting swallowed up by a cyclone of its own design, but somehow it’s barely constrained enough to keep it together for the listener to hear. What can be a bit fatiguing is the length of some of the more atmospheric passages. By trimming some of the endings a bit (like the keyboard swirls that occur in the last almost two minutes of “Deafeated and Withered Creation”),2 it would help out a little with the overall impact.

But an impact this definitely made. I often worry whenever an artist writes music detailing a rather personal struggle, as it could very easily be heavy-handed or horribly delivered. But like An Isolated Mind before him, Vanweelden crafted an album that simultaneously crushes skulls and slices nerves. Ask anyone who’s ever experienced body dysmorphia, and they’ll tell you that no amount of external body shaming can compare to the hell of those who are beating themselves up,3 and Dysmor lays that all out to bare with amazing results. I sincerely both applaud Vanweelden for his bravery, intensity, and honesty in communicating his battles with body dysmorphia through his art, but I’m also pulling for his continued efforts in overcoming a silent, yet all-too-common, struggle.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: Ampwall | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 28th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #AnIsolatedMind #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #Dysmor #Feb25 #IVoidhangerRecords #Portal #Review #Reviews #TheGreatOldOnes #VenomousEchoes #Voices