Grey Mountain – Grey Mountain Review

By ClarkKent

While Grey Mountain is technically a debut, it’s the fourth project and 17th album overall fronted by Jon Higgs from the label Eat Lead and Die Music. His other bands — Monsterworks, Thūn, and Moose Cult — have all received the AMG review treatment from various writers, often noting that these many projects sound similar to each other.1 And Higgs bringing along a Monsterworks bandmate, drummer James Garnett, to Grey Mountain, does little to squash the fear of over-familiarity. However, this new act’s third member, Kishor Haulenbeek, is a n00b to the Eat Lead and Die Music roster. While Higgs brings in a well-polished prog/doom style to his sound, Haulenbeek is more raw and dissonant. Are these fresh contributions influential enough to allow Grey Mountain to stand apart from Higgs’ other projects?

Grey Mountain does sound remarkably similar to its kin, more along the lines of the progressive ideas from Monsterworks and less so the doomy ones from Thūn. But Haulenbeek does bring a unique style to the band. The guitars have a more dissonant tone, and the overall sound is much rawer. It reminds me of Opeth’s early work, like Morningrise. But where Opeth is deliberate in their songwriting, Grey Mountain feels much more free in style, as if the band members are playing in a jam session together rather than performing pre-written parts, which gives looseness that avoids easy definition. While opener “Grey Mountain” fits the doom mold, the rest of the songs are faster tempo and more playful. Grey Mountain is post/prog above all, but you will also hear some funky bass grooves and even moments of spacey psychedelia.

Grey Mountain’s unpredictable nature means that it’s not always cohesive, but it’s also never boring. The free form style is both a curse and a blessing. The individual band members play their instruments very well, but they don’t always sound like they’re playing together, as if competing in ideologies. Haulenbeek’s dissonant lines don’t always gel with the prog, and the result is jarring compared to the smoother sound of Higgs’ other works. Yet the freestyling also means songs don’t dwell for very long on any one passage, and the extensive use of elaborate guitar solos keeps things moving along. The result is both rewarding and frustrating. On two instances (“Hermitage,” “Living Mythology”), a song will begin to build momentum with incredibly catchy riffs, only for the payoff to fizzle due to a lack of direction.

The biggest issue holding back Grey Mountain, however, is the singing. Just as my head starts bobbing to the opening of “Grey Mountain,” the primary vocalist erupts in a sudden screech that sounds like someone recorded their nails scratching a chalkboard. Grey Mountain uses a dual vocalist approach (both Higgs and Haulenbeek receive credit), but it’s difficult to tell who’s who since neither sounds much like they do on other albums. One singer uses muscular death metal growls that suit the songs well. The issue isn’t just that the main vocal attack is bad, but both of the singers are inconsistent. The main guy occasionally loses his screech and actually sounds tolerable (“Hermitage”), while the harsh vocal presence loses steam on the latter half of the album. I’m normally not bothered by extreme vocals, but here they sound so off-pitch it made me cringe.

Listening to Grey Mountain, it’s clear the band had fun making this album; they’re even in talks about writing another Grey Mountain record. Perhaps what they need is additional time writing music together in order to create a more cohesive sound (and please ditch the screeches). The presence of Haulenbeek may not have moved Higgs entirely out of the umbrella of his core Monsterworks/Thūn/Moose Cult sound, and perhaps that’s okay because the prog sound allows for immense variety. While Grey Mountain may sound, at its core, like those other bands, it has enough of its own nuances to give it an identity all its own. Sadly, Grey Mountain doesn’t escape the label’s mixed reception here at AMG, but they show enough promise to break the mold next time.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eat Lead and Die Music
Websites: greymountain.bandcamp.com/album/grey-mountain | ampwall.com/a/greymountain2
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#25 #2025 #DoomMetal #EatLeadAndDieMusic #GreyMountain #InternationalMetal #Mar25 #Monsterworks #MooseCult #Opeth #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychRock #Review #Reviews #Thūn

The Infinity Ring – Ataraxia Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

The heart of heavy metal music lives in attitude, one of extreme emotions—sadness, anger, exuberance, catharsis. And in increasing trend, modern practitioners often conjure that spirit through atmosphere, which allows metal-adjacent spaces like goth rock and darkwave to strike a chord with those who typically fall for weepy music of crying guitars and mournful vocals. New England-based The Infinity Ring harbors some of these dark sounds that attract lovers of the downtrodden—twangy and folky guitar refrains, post-rock-like swells in intensity and volume—all wrapped up in a smoky and gravel-filled vocal delivery. So even though Ataraxia isn’t metal,1 despite finding home in oft-metal label Profound Lore, its sorrowful swagger threatens to stimulate the same shout and simmer all the same.

With a gothic allure and a somber, neofolk-y expression, Ataraxia carves a path down weeping corridors with a stinging chamber folk ambience and swelling post-rock trajectory. Most importantly, though, The Infinity Ring’s narrative finds the comfort of low, crackling fire on a chilly night in the gravely mic antics of band leader and guitarist Cameron Moretti. His gruff croon and low distortion twang bring to mind the noir character of Nick Cave with the patience and weathered exhale of late Leonard Cohen works. And a sense of intimacy pervades his brooding incantations, with high gain recordings providing a crackle and tickle—a comfort similar to what some find in ASMR recordings. But though the timbre and dripping legato of Moretti’s poetry may wrap like a scratchy blanket on a cold night, its words often ring more harrowing and downcast.

Whether you fall prey to Moretti’s somber lull will still fall in line with whether the stripped and screaming chamber instrumentation provides an interesting enough base. From Ataraxia’s wistful introduction of violin swirling in post-crescendo denouement (“Obsidian”) to its close through the understated swell of fragile piano guidance and drowning string ambience (“The Archway”), the focus of hazy backings and hypnotic refrains drives the primary tether. It takes until the first drum rolls of “Elysium,” about ten minutes into the album, before a sense of classic swinging movement takes hold, and even the lilting rhythmic framework sways against a post-rock guitar gathering, distant clanging bells, and bowed crescendo. And while The Infinity Ring again finds this kind of tempo-pushing jog in “The Drum,” a majority of Ataraxia exists in a chamber-adjacent space that prizes the exploration of atmosphere and texture.

Yet, for an album that exists in this compositionally softer realm, Ataraxia plays less with intense dynamics and more with a focused loudness. As a vocal-forward affair, Moretti’s reverberating croons and scowls take center stage, their higher presence sitting above the fog of acoustic plonks and muted chamber underlays. Whether it’s against the plonky lead of piano (“Nightingale,” “The Archway”), across a Wovenhand-esque strum and kick and rim clack strut (“Hymn,” “The Drum”), or amidst a looping fuzz and minimalist progression (“Revenge,” “The Window”), bassy, breath-heavy murmurings ripple and pulse and pull along these distant soundscapes. Silence as a setup, like an inhale, still finds a place in the quiet-to-calamitous post-rock aura that The Infinity Ring wears at base. But also, like breath, a natural rise and fall defines Ataraxia’s pace, its closing message of “The Archway” embodying that swift, tidal tempo.

As a journey of serene discomfort, Ataraxia walks softly bug neglects to carry that big, bombastic stick. The Infinity Ring, sticking to a diverse sonic palette to achieve its moody goals, functions as a hard-to-quantify collective of unique and thought-out sounds. Walking in a long line of attitude-based artists like Lou Reed and Tom Waits, the path that The Infinity Ring has chosen is weird, entrancing, and, above all, rich with sonic delight. So with Ataraxia, the journey is the destination. And when the mood strikes, The Infinity Ring proves a hard act to ignore.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore Records | Bandcamp
Websites: theinfinityring.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/theinfinityring
Releases Worldwide: March 21st, 2025

#2025 #35 #Ataraxia #ChamberMusic #Darkwave #GothicRock #LeonardCohen #LouReed #Mar25 #NickCave #PostRock #ProfoundLoreRecords #Review #Reviews #TheInfinityRing #Wovenhand

Felgrave – Otherlike Darknesses Review

By Thus Spoke

When a promo doesn’t adequately prepare you for what an album will sound like, one of two things is usually the case. Either the promo is poorly written, or the music is particularly description-defying. The promo for Felgrave’s sophomore, Otherlike Darknesses, while well-written, was insufficient to convey the music’s especially idiosyncratic nature. Despite the forewarnings that it “[melds] doom, black, and death metal in a way rarely done before,”1 and contains “intense and complex parts that wouldn’t be out of place on a technical death metal album,” Otherlike Darknesses is far stranger and deeper than expected.

In a fashion mimicking the genre of Felgrave’s early work—doom—Otherlike Darknesses consists of just three songs, each titanic in scope. But rather than steadily constructing towers of hefty riffs and crescendoing melodies, these songs erratically climb up and down the steep walls of already ruined castles, throwing the listener off the edge of a parapet to crash to earth or float down with chilling grace. Without abandoning compositional coherence, themes are not so much reprises as tethers that bind chaos into monstrous complex wholes. The twisted dissonance of guitars—accelerating and contorting discomfortingly, chirruping like alarms (“Winds Batter My Keep”), and walking in jerky rhythms—over a backdrop of variously whooshing and moaning synths (“Pale Flowers Under an Empty Sky”) is both confrontational and horribly transfixing. It’s a sound so vibrantly reminiscent of Thantifaxath, that I felt the need to confirm multiple times that no affiliation exists between them and Felgrave. But this similarity is only one side of Otherlike Darknesses. In a way that seems to amplify distress, Felgrave incorporate ample use of cleans and disquieting calm. While the latter heightens tension insidiously, the former do so overtly, as belted-out, half-sung wails, often multi-tracked until they are noisier than the instrumentation, or eerily intoned as a softly repeated refrain (“Pale Flowers…”). And yet, amidst the horror, there is also strange elegance and heart.

Otherlike Darknesses is an intense listening experience. The moaning, discordant cries and throaty screams that narrate it respectively ring with haunting strangeness, and drip with malevolence. The endlessly shifting, slowing down, speeding up, lurching cacophony of tremolos and plucks and impossibly fast and flexible drums contains barely a few minutes of (relative) calm in all its near-50, and even these are menacing thanks to the cruel shifts between harmony and dissonance (“Pale Flowers…,” “Otherlike Darknesses”), and the spiderlike wanderings of fretless bass prominent against stripped-back ambience (“Winds Batter…”). It is nauseating and jaw-droppingly brilliant. Felgrave aren’t throwing things haphazardly at the wall to show off or shock; the pieces that appear scattered fit together into grand, compelling compositions, no matter how unconventional. It’s impressive and terrifying, given the wild places they go, just how easily and how organically Felgrave maintain such coherence. How a diabolical chaos can hide the subtle theme that hums in a later synth and manifests again as gut-clenching a series of chords (“Winds Batter…” “Otherlike Darknesses”); how a stillness can turn so quickly into a storm and singing fall into place so naturally beside them both (“Pale Flowers…). When at last, a mournful melody blossoms (“Otherlike Darknesses”) its brevity and natural fulfilment of its origins make it precious and magnificent. The acrobatic, terrifying things M.L Jupe is doing with guitars, and the profound distinction and interplay between the synths, creeping bass, and manic treble is frightening and wonderful, and never feel self-indulgent. The drumming—courtesy of Robin Stone (Evilyn, Norse)— is as insanely good as it is insane; often inhumanly fast, presciently dynamic, and in constant evolution.

In spite of my awe, it would be remiss not to admit that Otherlike Darknesses is still a bit much.2 Due to its structure, one must endure its itinerant movements without even the brief respite that comes from such music being split into more, shorter songs, and this can prove a little exhausting, considering their calibre. Felgrave’s clever weaving of disparate elements create just enough order to maintain integrity, and slips into snatches of quiet and melody just in time, and so manages to keep the derangement from becoming overwhelming. The congruence that this album possesses is, admittedly, of the sort grasped better through patience and repeated listens, but unlike many such unusual extreme metal works, its assets are so immediately transparent they make for powerful motivators to take up this mantle.

Otherlike Darknesses proved to be the best kind of surprise. Though following its trajectory can be daunting, Felgrave has created an experience that is consuming and thrilling enough to make that journey far easier than one might expect. Twisted and scary, but human and graceful, and nonchalantly epic, it’s not something I’ll soon forget.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 25th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Evilyn #ExperimentalMetal #Felgrave #Mar25 #Norse #NorwegianMetal #OtherlikeDarknesses #Review #Reviews #Thantifaxath #TranscendingObscurityRecords

Panthalassan – From the Shallows of the Mantle Review

By GardensTale

Angry Metal Guy is an institution, and not just a mental one. Artists often dip into our comment section to express a fondness for our site specifically, and the review requests that land in our contact form are even more devoted (or attempting to ingratiate themselves by pretending to be; politics plays a part too!). The case of Panthalassan is a step further, though. It’s a one-man band inspired by bands we have hawked relentlessly: Lör and Wilderun. After playing guitar for Viathyn and Ravenous, Jake Wright sought to carve his own path, striking out on his own with only the drums of session musician and Viathyn bandmate Dave Crnković to accompany him. Have the AMG classics steered him true?

Well, it’s clear that one has had more pull than the other, because From the Shallows of the Mantle will sound fairly familiar for anyone who’s heard Lör’s In Forgotten Sleep. Lithe, winding guitars dish out multi-layered riffs and whirling solos alike, largely at dazzling speeds. The compositions are progressive, and though they don’t eschew choruses altogether, the tracks are arranged in a free-flowing form, prioritizing a musical narrative thread over rigid structure. And it must be said, Wright is a crack at the axe. There are enough great solos dotted across the running time to supply 3 albums, and the rapid and evolving melodic riffs thrill without fail. Just check the triumphant ascending chords that kick off “Coral Throne” or the Fellowship-worthy “By Shank’s Mare.” Cheesy? Sure. But it is some of the catchiest riffing I’ve heard yet this year.

Which is why it’s such a shame that both vocals and lyrics weigh on the album like an anchor. It’s not a technical disaster. Wright does glance off pitch on occasion, but he doesn’t veer completely wild. But sometimes I wish he would, because as adventurous as the guitars are, so safe and consequently flat is the vocal performance, leaving little room for emotional involvement. Exacerbating this issue are the lyrics. The text itself is not awful when read on paper; the problem is the near-total lack of flow, which is ironic considering its oceanic themes. I’m of the opinion that a good flow is the most important and oft-overlooked element of lyrics in music. You can sing about utter nonsense and I’ll suck it up like a sponge if you get your cadance and prosody right. But Panthalassan sounds stilted and awkward across most of the album, with ‘The gasp that slips my lips’ the tongue-twisting nadir. The difference it makes when it does fall into place, in the closer’s chorus, is downright startling. It makes me wonder how much better From the Shallows of the Mantle could have been with this issue resolved.

The quality of the instrumentation might have been enough to overcome the above issue, and it almost does. Besides the sweet guitars, Crnković does a solid job keeping up the pace on the drums, and the tracks weave enough variation and supplementary instruments into the compositions to stay reasonably fresh. Even so, more than an hour is a long sit, and most of the tracks that push past 7 minutes should not. “Worth My Salt” overuses the title phrase, and the extended outro on the back of the otherwise excellent “Embers on our Shore” drags it out even further. On the bright side, I do enjoy the production, which is light but doesn’t lack in power. The guitars are crystalline and the bass gets enough space; the only unfortunate consequence of the mix is the attention the vocals get, putting more emphasis on the shortcomings there.

Still, From the Shallows of the Mantle is a very promising debut for Panthalassan. Most of the issues with the album are surface-level, not fundamental. A re-examination of how to write vocal parts that flow well is in order, and that might in turn help entice a more passionate performance. I’m also curious to hear how Wright would fare trying to move away from the trappings of Lör’s fairly specific sound, something I’m convinced he has the chops to. That, as well as keeping the album more concise, would be more than enough to make the next installment of this oceanic saga a smash hit, because the bones are all there: solid songcraft, virtuoso play on every instrument, and a knack for a good hook.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-released
Websites: panthalassan.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/panthalassan
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2025

#25 #2025 #CanadianMetal #Fellowship #FromTheShallowsOfTheMantle #Lör #Mar25 #Panthalassan #PowerMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Ravenous #Review #Reviews #SelfReleased #Viathyn #Wilderun

AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö: Nephylim – Circuition

By Dolphin Whisperer

“AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö” is a time-honored tradition to showcase the most underground of the underground—the unsigned and unpromoted. This collective review treatment continues to exist to unite our writers in boot or bolster of the bands who remind us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of the global metal scene. The Rodeö rides on.”

Oranjeboom, a low-frills lager, holds little love in its home country of the Netherlands, so much so that its production there was discontinued until only recently.1 Why does that matter? It really doesn’t, but it is a fun fact about the Netherlands and a beer synonymous with their lineage. Nephylim hails from the Netherlands too, and, with any luck, their brand of big scope, big sad melodeath will stake a claim that lands with bolder flavor. Over the past ten years, this five-some has cut an EP and a full-length through their own determination. And now, with this sophomore follow-up Circuition, Nephylim may just be hitting their stride. Or, at least, our Rodeö crew seems to think so. Crack open a cold one and sip on riffy sadness. – Dolphin Whisperer

Nephylim // Circuition [March 7th, 2025]

Steel Druhm: Sometimes when you press play on a Rodeö candidate, you wonder why they aren’t signed because they sound so polished and professional. Such is the case with Dutch melodeathsters, Nephylim, and their sophomore opus, Circulation. Taking cues from Ominium Gatherum, Be’Lakor, Enshine, and the more progressive works of Edge of Sanity, Nephylim voyage across various styles of melodeath but always keep things anchored firmly in the Wheelhouse of Steel. After a beautifully regal instrumental opener, Circulation heats up on “Travail Pt. 2 – Animus,” which is like a glowing distillation of Wolfheart and Be’lakor with a seriously epic vibe coursing through it. The guitars riff, trill, and shimmer with a Tuomos Saukkonen-esque flair as grand orchestrations amplify the sound to herculean proportions. It’s the beast of death metal with the beauty of melancholic music, and this style has a proven appeal. I love the majesty of “Grand Denial” and the hints of Dark Tranquillity woven throughout, and the title track bears traces of Dan Swanö’s Moontower and Tomi Joutsen-era Amorphis as it seamlessly melds heavy and sadboi moments. Unfortunately, not every cut hits with the same soul-searing slash of wintery pathos. “Amaranth” is a bit too generic and pedestrian, and though “Withered” does some things very well, the writing is a touch less compelling. Elsewhere, closer “Inner Paradigm” feels like something from the later eras of In Flames, not bad, but less impactful. At thirty-eight minutes, there are bits of bloat scattered around, but nothing that’s fatal if swallowed. There’s a lot to like about Circulation, and I’m left still wondering why Nephylim aren’t signed. With this much potential, they should be! 3.0/5.0

GardensTale: From two live shows, I already knew Nephylim were good. I could not have anticipated what a masterclass Circuition would turn out to be, though. Combining the maudlin symphonic details of Fires in the Distance with the melancholy hope and impeccable composition of Countless Skies is no easy feat, but the songwriting has taken a giant leap forward. Circuition is absolutely packed with beautiful melodies, addictive hooks and enticing cascades. The flow is downright brilliant, such that even after a dozen spins, I find myself glued to the speaker in anticipation of the next stanza, the next riff, the next solo. These are linked together with transitions that are set up and knocked down perfectly, helping every track rush past in spiraling eddies like white water rapids after heavy rain. “Circuition” yanks the heart-strings the hardest; follow-up “Withered” has a more basic structure, but the amazing harmonies and powerful solo make it a standout anyway. Cherry on the cake is the top-shelf production, with meticulous mastering and a balanced mix. The sparse clean vocals aren’t great, just okay, and a few tracks end a little more abruptly than I’d like, but these are small bumps on an engaging journey that begs to be spun again and again. 4.0/5.0

Kenstrosity: Dutch sadboi melodeath quintet Nephylim graced my Bandcamp feed a few months back. I was intrigued, but did not bite. At least, not until our Kermity GardensTale recced it for Rodeö duty, at which point I dove straight in. Embodying a wondrous merging between Countless Skies, Fires in the Distance, and a light touch of The Drowning, sophomore effort Circuition garnered instant adoration from this sponge. A rarer feat, Nephylim’s latest only deepened its hold on my heart, as the opening “Travail” suite enamored with epic soars of melody, crushing riffs that ground the piece in deathly gravity, and emotive roars that shake the roots underfoot. “Amaranth” doubles down on that palpable momentum, bringing forward a fun factor that belies Circuition’s introspective character. Beautiful synths and keys dot the landscape just above that metallic verve and swinging rhythm, evoking something inherently mystical while still operating within the bounds of the human spirit (“Circuition”). As the potent pull of songs like “Grand Denial,” “Withered,” and immense closer “Inner Paradigm” continually challenge my perception of what constitutes a highlight, I find myself universally immersed, committed, and compelled by Circuition. Experiencing this, as much as I pine for new material from those great acts that Nephylim remind me of, I know in my soul that Circuition is one of 2025’s foremost contenders. Great!

Maddog: When Fenrir finally closes the curtain on 2025, Nephylim’s Circuition will be one of my few fond memories of this disastrous year. This hidden melodeath gem triumphs by embracing simplicity without stagnation. No one would argue that Nephylim’s guitarists stretch the limits of human dexterity. And yet, as Circuition buried my ears in riffs upon riffs, it dragged me into its orbit. Blending the classic stylings of Dark Tranquillity with the modern touch of Æther Realm, Nephylim won me over through its irresistible energy. While I initially fell in love with merely a couple of its songs, Circuition’s consistency unveiled itself over time. Indeed, while the closer “Inner Paradigm” was initially my least favorite song, its Shadows of the Dying Sun riffs and its somber ending have made it a highlight. Despite its consistency, Circuition’s mood changes keep it fresh. The fantastic midsection of the album progresses from gargantuan riffs (“Grand Denial”) to tear-jerking Enshine melodies (“Circuition”) to explosive choruses (“Withered”). Circuition is textbook, but it’s both a thrilling spectacle and an emotive powerhouse. Every piece is essential, and every piece is distinctive. 4.0/5.0

Killjoy: The term “Nephilim” in the Hebrew Bible is often translated as “giants” in English. Accordingly, melodic death metal band Nephylim does everything big. Riffs? Big. Rumbling death roars? Big. Thunderous rhythm section? Big. Circuition feels like a highlight reel of the serious and somber side of melodeath, with each individual song bringing something unique to the table. “Travail Pt. II – Animus” embellishes the somber intensity of Insomnium with delicate piano keys reminiscent of Fires in the Distance and heaps of symphonic bombast. The suspenseful drum beats which introduce “Amaranth” organically build excitement by layering on bass and then guitar lines before releasing the pent-up energy with a furious snarl and fiery riffs. But there’s also a tender side to Nephylim; “Circuition” adopts a melancholic and folk-tinted mood laced with deep, beautiful croons, all of which I associate with Vorna. Circuition is considerably more ambitious than Nephylim’s debut, but they never let their ambitions spiral out of control. If anything, I’d like to see them continue to develop their symphonic side that they teased in the first two tracks. Although I find the last third of the record ever so slightly less engaging, I can endorse all thirty-eight minutes of Circuition as worthy of your time. 3.5/5.0

#2025 #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo2025 #ÆtherRealm #BeLakor #Circuition #CountlessSkies #DarkTranquillity #DutchMetal #EdgeOfSanity #Enshine #FiresInTheDistance #InFlames #IndependentRelease #Insomnium #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Moontower #Nephylim #OmniumGatherum #ProgressiveDeathMetal #SelfRelease #TheDrowning #Wolfheart

Deafheaven – Lonely People with Power Review

By Doom_et_Al

You never forget your first love. The sense of wonder and excitement, a world you had only heard and read about, opening up to you like a flower on a Summer’s day. Deafheaven was my first (in a metal sense). The combination of furious black meal, searing post metal, and fuzzy shoegaze, mixed with a dollop of genuine longing, totally rewired my brain. Which means that if you’re looking for a coldly analytical review of a band’s sixth album, you should probably go elsewhere. Deafheaven is part of my DNA, and a new album will always be a big deal, even if we’ve drifted apart over the years. You see, while I’ve enjoyed the band’s output since the wondrous Sunbather, it’s been clear that Deafheaven and I have been moving in different directions. And this was confirmed with Infinite Granite. I respected the band’s bravery in trying something new; I just didn’t like the result much. Shiny, pretty post-rock is nothing to be ashamed of. But the Deafheaven I loved were all about embracing the fury of black metal to highlight their emotional beats. Without that tension, Infinite Granite felt weightless. And my relationship with Deafheaven almost went from “It’s complicated” to “Splitsville”…

… Except, there was “Mombasa,” the final song on Infinite Granite. Specifically, the final 3 minutes of “Mombasa.” Deafheaven broke the shackles, George Clarke’s shrieks roared forth, and within was a reminder of what the band was capable of. Was that denouement a farewell to a style they were abandoning, or a promise that they had not forgotten their roots? Lonely People with Power answers, and boy does it answer.

After a brief intro, the band kicks off with “Magnolia,” which is one of the meaner cuts of Deafheaven’s oeuvre, and completely devoid of the shininess of anything on Infinite Granite, including the clean vocals. On first listen, I wondered if this was a repudiation of that album; an abandonment of that sound and an acknowledgement that “mistakes were made.” But as “Heathen” hits its chorus, you realize Lonely People with Power is a lot more interesting than that. You see, the post-rock sounds of Infinite Granite have not been abandoned; they’ve just been folded into Deafheaven’s existing aesthetic. Which means that not only is Lonely People with Power their most complete and harmonious record to date, but it also retroactively improves Infinite Granite.

Although Deafheaven have always been comfortable with what they are not – i.e., a “trve kvlt” black metal band, it has sometimes felt that they were less comfortable with what they are. After the stunning Sunbather, the band oscillated between “mean” (New Bermuda), “pretty” (Ordinary Corrupt Human Love), and “post rock” (Infinite Granite). Lonely People with Power somehow finds a way to incorporate all these elements in a cohesive, stunning whole. Its gnarly tracks (“Magnolia,” “Revelator”) are gnarly, it’s pretty tracks (“Heathen,” “Winona”) are downright gorgeous, and the hybrids (“The Garden Route”, “The Marvelous Orange Tree”) feel natural and complementary. What ties all of these together is the emotional core that Deafheaven bring. Among contemporaries, perhaps only Gaerea are anywhere near them in terms of the ability to achieve that ecstatic, cathartic release this music thrives on. Lonely People with Power is brimming with pain and longing and wonder and fury. For the first time, the band has the musical language to convey all of these and then some.

Performances across the board are top-notch. Dan Tracy’s exceptional drumming brings power and force to the harder tracks, and wisely cuts back during the gentler moments. George Clarke’s howls and shrieks have never been the strongest attribute of the band, but he brings a unique intensity and connection that anyone who has attended one of their live shows will attest to. But the real star of the show is lead guitarist Kerry McCoy. McCoy has battled his own demons and writer’s block to create these furious, gorgeous, compelling gems. His guitar soars and dives, and he is able to find beauty in even the ugliest, more twisted compositions.

Sunbather, for all the ridiculous accusations of being “hipster metal,” had that thing. That thing that is impossible to define but is sprinkled liberally on all the best albums. There’s a reason Sunbather remains iconic. It is too early to say whether Lonely People with Power is a match for that masterpiece, but it has that thing, too. It is Deafheaven’s most mature and complete work to date; a synthesis of everything that has come before without being derivative or overly reliant. It plays to the band’s strengths, and wears its unironic heart on its sleeve. If Deafheaven aren’t your vibe, this won’t change your mind – it is, above all, a defiantly Deafheaven album through and through. For everyone else, this is an essential and timeless collection of tracks. It reminds us of the power of metal music to connect and move. But it also fucking reminds us that Deafheaven are not just back; they never left.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Roadrunner Records
Website: deafheaven.com
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2025

#2025 #45 #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #Blackgaze #Deafheaven #Mar25 #Review #Reviews #RoadrunnerRecords

Manntra – Titans Review

By Twelve

It’s appalling to me that nearly six years have passed since I last reviewed Manntra. The passage of time is a horrifying thing, but there it is, in print: Manntra – Oyka! Review By Twelve on July 29, 2019. On the other hand, the passage of time is what inspires a good chunk of folk metal in the first place, and Oyka! was a fun folk metal album. Between then and now, Manntra released another three full-lengths that weren’t reviewed here (some other stuff happened too), which puts me a bit out of date for their recent activities. Nevertheless, I was excited to see the Croatians reappear in our Promo Pit for Titans, their eighth full-length (and first with Napalm Records), as I did enjoy Oyka! and am never opposed to the emergence of cheer. So how have the last six years been for Manntra, and how does Titans hold up to their rapidly growing discography?

Three missed releases or no, Manntra’s sound is instantly recognizable: a heavy, energetic metal base, a light dusting from folky instruments, and the unmistakable vocals of Marko Matijević Sekul. It’s a sound I can best describe as “pretty much” folk metal—it’s got the right lyrical themes; the acoustic guitars from Dorian Pavlović, the mandolin from Zlatko Štefančić, and pipes from Sekul; and it’s all kinds of energetic. However, there is one foot resting in the door of traditional, even industrial heavy metal. Sekul plays synths, while Andrea Kert and Zoltan Lečei refuse to be left out on drums and bass, respectively. But it’s Sekul’s voice that most significantly defines Manntra’s sound (vocalists, am I right?); his rasps, shouts, and chants toe the line between heavy and folk metal in a fascinating way—he has a charisma to his approach that’s hard to define, harder to replicate, and contributes heavily to Titans’s identity.

If the above sounded appealing to you, there is plenty more where it came from—Titans is heavy, fun, and folky. Manntra excel at big choruses that get caught in the brain, such as the superbly folky “Riders in the Dawn,” the intense, almost panicked “Higher,” and the symphonic-metal-esque “Teuta.” Across Titans, Štefančić’s mandolin is used to excellent effect, especially in “Unholy Water (Voda)” and the Miracle of Sound cover “Skal.” At times, Manntra step away from the folk influence, such as on the title track and “My Sandman,” which opens with poppy synths and makes much more effort to be heavy than catchy. Since Titans, not unlike previous Manntra work, is a fairly vocals-dominated album, this kind of variance goes a long way towards keeping things interesting across its full runtime.

The main drawback I can find with Titans is that Manntra seem to operate significantly better, for my ears at least, as a folk metal band than as a heavy metal one. Everything about them, from the lyrics to the instruments to the performances, aligns so well with folk. “Skal” is an absolute delight because Manntra can lean so far into the joyous anthem to drinking culture, while “Nav” is utterly elevated by the use of pipes. By contrast, “My Sandman” doesn’t work nearly as well; it is neither catchy nor particularly moving. Similarly, the two “Forgotten” tracks are solid, good works of heavy metal, but feel out of place at the close of an album that does lean folkier. I know I just listed the variety as a strength above—it is, but this particular approach leaves Titans feeling a touch uneven.

Titans is a fun album, and shows that Manntra really haven’t missed a step. Its highs are awesome, and it’s given me a lot of repeat listening material since I started spinning it. If it’s inconsistent in whether it is “good” or “very good,” it is very consistent in being an enjoyable listen and a good time… which I think is what Manntra was going for. I do recommend giving Titans a spin or two if you’re at all folk-inclined. As for me, I’ll be keeping a much more careful eye out for the next one, and so hopefully do this again soon.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: manntra.bandcamp.com | manntra.hr | facebook.com/ManntraOfficial
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CroatianMetal #FolkMetal #Manntra #Mar25 #MiracleOfSound #NapalmRecords #Review #Reviews #Titans

Nydvind – Telluria Review

By El Cuervo

There are many heavy metal bands in the world. Intense genre stratification led to lots of musical hopefuls attempting to carve their own path. Despite their best efforts, it’s incredibly rare for a band to do something that hasn’t been done before. Citing a journey through the “raw energy of black metal,” “profound melancholy of doom,” and “organic vitality of folk,” France’s Nydvind are making another such attempt with their fourth album entitled Telluria. This unusual medley and a 20-year history ensured that I didn’t instinctively reject the one sheet’s notion that the group may be pioneering; there aren’t many bands operating in this genre that split 3 sounds. Is Telluria as distinctive as its genre promises?

The Nydvind style isn’t a part of the same scene as the likes of Agalloch, but they capture the earthen feel that such bands exalt. “Dance of the Ages” uses flitting, clean guitar lines and occasional chants to conjure a folksy effect, tied into acoustic guitar passages designed to evoke delicacy. This contrasts with the record’s opening heavy passages that blend trilling blackened guitars with deathly, guttural growls. Likewise, “Heart of the Woods II” opens robustly, with a doomy lick delivered via a shredding tone. The remainder of Telluria sometimes winds and sometimes stomps its way through passages that principally progress through a fusion of black, doom, and death metal. Despite its variety, the core of the music has a feel that won’t be totally unfamiliar to fans of Paradise Lost, but observed through a decidedly blacker lens.

When you first start with Telluria, the multitude of influences in the pot and frequent musical shifts make things interesting. But it’s definitely more ‘interesting’ than ‘exciting.’ Although there’s a lot to listen to when paying close attention, my overall emotional response is an unfazed one. The majority of the album is merely okay. This is undoubtedly compounded by the music switching between varied sounds in an uneventful way. “Heart of the Woods II” proceeds through its doomy opening and a blackened second passage then back again, but each transition simply ceases the prior music and commences the next. There are very few moments of sophistication or drama to signal change to the listener. The over-arching fusion of doom / black / death/folk influences sounds harmonious on first listen, but it’s not nearly as stimulating as it should be.

I find my initial interest thoroughly waned by Telluria’s back half. Ultimately, the inability to generate a visceral emotional response (even a negative one) consigns it to the sizeable heap of forgettable music I’ll not bother returning to. The shuffling, directionless song-writing contributes to my dispirited response. I find the doomy mid-pace passages the dullest of Nydvind’s sounds, and these passages sometimes stretch out over minutes at a time. The songs average 8 minutes, and only one runs for fewer than 7, with another exceeding 10. Only “Into the Pantheon of Absynthia” reaches a climax that’s reasonably satisfying, as it escalates with a crescendo that gets heavier over time. The remainder of the songs don’t justify their duration.

The only complete exception to the commentary I’ve provided above is the title track. Pretty much all the best passages on Telluria are locked within these 9 minutes. From the crunchy, blackened verse with piercing shrieked vocals to the layered leads that harmonize then counter-point, it did what no other track could by demanding my attention. It then proceeded to hold it by featuring the album’s best solo and one of its heaviest passages after its mid-point. And just before that heaviness becomes tiring, the ensuing quietness offers a welcome contrast. “Telluria” still fails to stitch together its varied passages in a subtle or engaging way, but separately they’re best throughout.

Despite the more exceptional moments that form the strongest Nydvind material, the vast majority of Telluria leaves me cold. Beyond those moments, it’s difficult for me to highlight any particular riff or melody as standouts; much bleed together into a grey sludge, even with the diverse influences. There’s the potential for a thought-provoking synthesis of styles here. But while the quintessential 2.0 commits the sin of disappointing its listener, Telluria commits the sin of leaving very little mark at all.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: v2 MP3
Label: Malpermesita Records
Website: facebook.com/nydvind
Releases Worldwide: March 21st, 2025

#20 #2025 #Agalloch #BlackMetal #DoomMetal #FolkMetal #FrenchMetal #MalpermesitaRecords #Mar25 #Nydvind #ParadiseLost #Review #Reviews #Telluria

Crawling Chaos – Wyrd Review

By Twelve

Even before I’d seen the gorgeous cover art over there, Crawling Chaos had me marked. The Italian group’s third full-length release, Wyrd, is written around a theme that discusses prominent women in European folklore, mythologies, and history, and is “full of literary quotes and easter eggs, offering subtle nods to the most curious among the listeners.” Honestly, I was sold before I even noted the genre tag, but death metal and I are no strangers to one another either. So at first glance, Wyrd seems like my perfect match, but I’ve been writing here for years now, and I’ve been misled by cover art and thematic promise before. How will this one hold up?

What’s interesting about Wyrd is that a more apt description of the music is melodic death metal, but the phrase works better as a literal description than a genre tag. Wyrd is a death metal album that has melody, but doesn’t quite match what you could call “melodeath.” It is a heavy album, with no noticeable use of keys and uncompromising death metal overtures, similar to how Crescent approach their music. Guitarists Andrea Velli and Manuel Guerrieri put in some serious work here, swapping brilliantly between a veritable storm of riffs in songs like “Witch-Hunt” and eerie ambience in ones like “Necromancer.” Mind, don’t let that distinction fool you—death metal is absolutely the focus here, as Guerrieri’s roars and Edoardo Velli’s manic drumming make clear. Across Wyrd’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, Crawling Chaos make the most of their thematic source material by launching an all-out assault on the listener in a comparatively pleasing way, with nods to groups like Death, Gojira, and Nile apparent throughout.

Most of the hallmarks of death metal are present for Wyrd, but it’s the moments of melody that really give Crawling Chaos a distinct identity. William Leardini’s bass is wonderful in its griminess, and most songs are concise, speedy, and brutal, but the apparent care for memorability goes a long way too. “Veiled in Secrets” is the clearest example, a mid-paced (this is a relative descriptor) song with a beautiful, almost haunting melody that rings throughout, evocative of the desert the song describes. Similarly, the guitar leads in “To the Furies” are mighty, blending skill and style in a way that makes the song into a journey, exciting and memorable at once. Wyrd is an album of two worlds, firmly rooted in its thematic and stylistic choices, giving it the feel of a complete album, and a well-thought-out one.

I enjoy the melodic moments much more than the more brutal ones on Wyrd, which does make it feel like something of a lopsided listen at times. As I’ve said, crawling chaos can do wonders for both sides of the descriptor. Some songs lean heavier on melody and others heavier on heaviness, and that’s fine. Still, when a song like “Nomen Omen” opens with a slow, haunting melody, with genuine build-up, and then erupts into the same style of death metal that’s been so persistent across Wyrd, it feels almost like a let-down (despite, in this instance, a genuinely stunning vocal performance from Guerrieri). “Nails of Fate” does something similar with an acoustic guitar—a stirring intro that is never realized in the way you expect it to, despite the song itself being very strong. For me, the way Wyrd is structured creates a noticeable rift between the melodic and heavier choices in each song, making the full listen less cohesive than it might have otherwise been.

Wyrd is a fun listen regardless of how you like your death metal, because it is well-written, well-performed, and hits hard. Still, writing the above makes me wonder if I’m not quite the right audience for Crawling Chaos, if only because I have this bias for the melodic side of melodic death metal. And yet, I have to recommend it, which means you may like it a good deal more than I have. And I have enjoyed it—it’s heavy, it sounds great, and it includes literary and historic references. Realistically, I was always going to enjoy this one.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Time to Kill Records
Websites: crawlingchaos-ttk.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/crawlingchaosit
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CrawlingChaos #Crescent #Death #DeathMetal #Gojira #ItalianMetal #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Nile #Review #Reviews #TimeToKillRecords #Wyrd

An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal