It’s not that often that I’ll have difficulty talking about an album that’s hitting its 20 year anniversary soon. In the case of Watching from a Distance, the second (and at the time, final) album from UK doom metal (then-) trio Warning, giving words to the atmosphere, the weight, and the aching hurt emanating from these five songs proved to be more than daunting. It’s not that often that you come across an album that feels like a sonic gutpunch that just doesn’t stop punching you into emotional submission, and guitarist/vocalist/mainman Patrick Walker did so effortlessly. It’s hard to not feel something while listening to the album, then or now. It’s this encapsulation of utter sadness and yearning that would influence many since, and what better time than now to induct Watching from a Distance into the Halls of the Olde?

Warning didn’t come from the more Gothic sounds of their contemporaries (and fellow YMIO inductees) Anathema, My Dying Bride, or Paradise Lost. Lyrically, they also couldn’t be more different. Whereas not many people could sing about fighting the gods like Darren White did, nor can we all take Aaron Stainthorpe’s hand or do we all have the ability to opaque the dissident establishment that we all suffer like Nick Holmes,1 we’ve all encountered the aftermath of a break-up or losing a loved one. If you haven’t, rest assured it’s coming, and no one can articulate the sheer crushing feeling that comes with that like Walker does here, and it’s especially not at the level of maturity he exhibited. No fingers pointed, no blame assigned, no good/bad person(s) to smear… just the aftermath, the pain that comes with it, and the knowledge (or lack thereof) of what to do next to move on.

Take the devastatingly heartbreaking “Bridges,” in which there’s very little variation between riffs and percussive patterns, and that’s on purpose: the rhythm section of bassist Marcus Hatfield and drummer Stuart Springthorpe knew to keep things plodding and controlled by design, further accentuating the repetitive riffs and lyrics of Walker’s. Speaking of, each verse ends with Walker achingly bellowing “I wish you were here with me tonight,” with each passing verse more dire and heartwrenching than the last, with the final pass preceded by “Can someone feel too much?” Tear-inducing on its own, but when it’s immediately followed by Walker harmoniously bellowing towards the end, those who are unprepared2 will be reduced to a quivering pile of sobs. Emotionally decimating.

The other four songs also float by with the grace and delicacy of a cinder block thrown right at your heart and emotions. The closing combo of “Faces” and “Echoes” do a fine job of further bringing the sorrow and pain, with the former lamenting a sense of normalcy amongst the crumble of a failed relationship, while the latter recalls pleasant memories of what was, but will never be again. However, it’s the opening one-two suckerpunch of the title track and “Footprints” that everyone remembers, and with good reason. The title track feels like a moment in time where Walker sees the wreckage of a the relationship and sees what he remembers are the good qualities, but it’s far too late to turn back the clock and repair the damage. And “Footprints”… man, fuck “Footprints” so much. At first a bit more upbeat than “Watching from a Distance,” all seemingly feels almost uplifting when suddenly Walker bares all in the song’s final few minutes, complete with a desperate delivery, complete with an emotionally charged voice that cracks and warbles in a broken manner that I made the mistake of listening to it the first time on my way home from work, and I had to pull over to partake in the ugliest of purging crying sessions. It’s ultra-rare that doom metal can make me feel that way, and Walker and company succeeded in accomplishing this in spades.

It was a sad time when Walker disbanded Warning in 2009, due to the simplest of reasons: artistic integrity and keeping his vision intact, forming the formidable 40 Watt Sun, an acoustic continuation of what Warning achieved. However, with their influence driving the likes of Pallbearer and Khemmis (among others), it was only a matter of time before Warning would return with Hatfield in tow, and now with their long-awaited third album, Rituals of Shame, on the horizon, it’s only fitting to induct Watching from a Distance in the Halls of the Olde. Give this a listen, but bring tissues.

Rain has started to leak into the ducts as Spring gets wetter and wetter. While I’m away, vacationing in a nice, dry, cloudy place, my minions are drenched and miserable. As it should be! But I’m still keeping tabs on their progress. Just because I’m having a great time somewhere else doesn’t mean these louts don’t have a quota to meet!

And meet their quota they shall, if only barely… BEHOLD!

ClarkKent’s Sci-Fi Soundbites

Epigram // Obsolescent [March 6th, 2026 – Self Released]

Combining the melodic black metal of Thulcandra and Dissection with the symphonics of Fleshgod Apocalypse and SepticFlesh, Epigram dropped a tasty little morsel with their debut, Obsolescent. The trio from Los Angeles puts on a spirited performance that borders on thrash. Tim Cauley’s display on the kit is a dominant force as he furiously blast beats his way from one song to the next. He turns “Wrath of Betrayed” into a piece of blackened thrash and proves tireless across Obsolescent’s 27-minute runtime. The lively vocal performance of Luis Echevarria adds further to Epigram’s charm. His low growls may seem underpowered, but his delivery is energetic and fun. He’s also the source of the symphonic instrumentation, via synths, though this aspect is secondary. Sure, there’s some choral chants (“Myrmidon,” “The Usurper’s Throne”), strings (“Hour of Gods”), and other vaguely symphonic sounds, but Epigram is most focused on the blackened melodic stuff. Shadi Absi throws together some great riffs, particularly on “Empires,” a work of pure black ‘n roll. The showstopper is “Hour of Gods,” with some sweet riffs and terrific energy. This song alone makes Obsolescent a worthy spin. Rounding out the musicians is Sanjay Kumar (Inferi, Wormhole), who plays solos on “Wrath of Betrayed” and “No Sin.” This is a promising debut for an eager new band.

Kal-El // Astral Voyager Vol. 2 [March 20th, 2026 – Blues Funeral Recordings]

Sporting the greatest band name of all time, Kal-El have been blasting listeners with stoner doom since 2012. Astral Voyager Vol. 2 is the follow-up to last year’s Vol. 1, and these pyschedelians’s seventh album overall. It’s been seven years since Witches of Mars was unfairly pummeled by a Kryptonian frog, and now I’d like to do the band justice by rescuing them from our filter. On this astral voyage, you get the pleasure of listening to six songs and 42 minutes of laid-back stoner tunes with plenty of fuzzy riffs—perfect for cruising around the cosmos. Their riff-centric approach puts them in the Black Sabbath camp, and the riffs on the likes of “Juno” and “The Prophecy,” which has a “Children of the Grave” vibe, are tons of fun. Further cementing the Sabbath comp is the vocal performance of Ståle Rodvelt, who carries a resemblance to Ozzy in his delivery. Longer cuts take more exploratory routes, akin to Sleep, yet still feature plenty to get your head bobbin’. “Asteroid” opens up with some sweet riffs that sustain its near eight-minute frame, while “The Nine” will still have you singing along in the final of its ten minutes. 1 So if you are in the mood for something chill that won’t put you to sleep, something that has the riffs without the risk of elevating your blood pressure, you should spend some time with Kal-El.

Thus Spoke’s Tectonic Treat

Bong-Ra // Esoterik [March 20th, 2026 – Debemur Morti Productions]

Not having received promo, it was only upon visiting DM’s Bandcamp page while writing up Aversio Humanitatis that I realised Bong-Ra had released another album. Asked whether Esoterik would be leaning more into enigmatic doom or spiky industrial electronica, the shapeshifting Bong-Ra said “yes”. The music is built on layers of dense, gritty atmosphere undulating with bass, breakbeats, and distorted riffs. Vocals are maintained from Black Noise—half-spoken snarls blurred by noise, shifting between blunt tunefulness (“Serpentine Helix”) and gargling venom (“Machine Halo”)—but at least half of the space is devoted to the purely instrumental psychosis. The saxophone is back, adding bizarre elegance and chilling eeriness in equal measure. Sometimes, Esoterik seems to be pitting its sultry and acerbic natures against one another; that chamber jazz side can take one by surprise (“Pleasures of the Flesh,” “Duality of One”), sandwiched as it is between a more punishing industrialism, but Bong-Ra just about gets away with it. This could be down to Esoterik’s efficiency in establishing (new) grooves—rhythmic and stylistic. Opener “Harmony Cloak” dispels misgivings on its skittering electronic oddity with a chorus that strikes a stylish balance between melody and dissonance; “Machine Halo” later follows in its stride. It’s an album that earns its moniker, right down to the particular spelling, and is worth the dark diversion it requires.

Grin Reaper’s Kooky Curios

Surturian // II – Hessian Spears [March 13th, 2026 – Crawling Chaos]

A German thrash band named after the legendary fire giant and guardian of Muspelheim? And on their debut LP, they launch an unrelenting, venomous assault filled with sticky riffs and bopping bass grooves in under forty-five minutes? Sign me up! Surturian plays thrash that smacks of early Testament and Metallica fused with the epic melodies of latter-day Kreator—hell, vocalist Tim Krogull reeks of Mille’s rancorous vocals, even though his name hews closer to a Voivodian disposition. In addition to thrash influences, Surturian calls upon Maiden’s signature gallops (“Cimmerians Wrath”) and anthemic melodies (“⁠Night Stalker,” “Do What Thou Wilt”), inculcating a lofty grandeur throughout II – Hessian Spears. Further fanning Surturian’s flames, the outfit navigates a varied landscape that imbues each track with its own character while never straying too far from their core sound. Hard-hitting offensives (“Blood Witchery”), slinky licks (“Night Stalker”), and oddball songwriting (“Beneath a Dying Sky”2) unite into an album I’ve regularly returned to since discovering it. If you’re feeling unSurtain, take it from me—it’s always a good time for some Hessian aggression!

Barn // Crucibles [March 24th, 2026 – Self Released]

Thanks to a certain dude/guy in the comments section, Crucibles didn’t slip past me undetected. Despite their dubious band name, Barn dropped a humdinger slab of tech death back in March that oozes with references to Unquestionable Presence (Atheist), Focus (Cynic), and, to a lesser extent, Decrepit Birth.3 There are even moments that echo more subdued moments from recent Sallow Moth releases (“The Serpent’s Perpetual Shed”). Staccato bursts of guitar, pinch harmonics, and buttery, fretless bass glissandos epitomize what Barn offers, and they spread it thick and chunky all over Crucibles’ sixty-five-minute runtime. Rustic name notwithstanding, Barn’s latest sounds like a sci-fi adventure, supported by track names like “Black Hole Lens” and “Cymatics.” The fretless bass especially helps with the futuristic aesthetic, frictionlessly gliding through gusts of abrupt, otherworldly guitars that buffet tracks from all angles. Barn rarely offers reprieve during their unconventional onslaught, but tracks like “Forbidden Fruits,” “Cymatics,” and “The Defeater” achieve such heights that I don’t find myself needing one. In short, these Boise boys warp listeners to a different dimension on Crucibles, and though it runs a tad long, I haven’t been deterred yet from lighting up this Barnburner.

Dionysiaque // La Tourbe des Rêves [March 27th, 2026 – I, Voidhanger Records]

Dionysiaque dispenses a bizarre derivative of doom on La Tourbe des Rêves that’s sure to be equal parts captivating and divisive. Reaching into the bag of tricks defined by Cathedral, Black Sabbath, and Candlemass, Dionysiaque’s sophomore album lumbers and chugs with classic rock-inspired leads and firecracker songcraft that I find utterly enthralling. Songs like “Aaron,” “Hate Fruit,” and “The Two Headed Boy” spotlight Dionysiaque’s plaintive guitar wails, contributed by L.B. and Bruno Penserini, along with their savvy balance of somber atmospheres and rousing melodies. Buoying the guitar tandem, bassist Lethal lays down frolicking, fabulous thunder via absorbing countermelodies while drummer T.H. looses potent fills and rolls throughout. Soaring atop the instrumentation are N.C.’s unorthodox vocals, which will almost certainly be the sole determining factor in listeners’ ability to engage with La Tourbe des Rêves. His delivery recalls that of Mayhem’s Attila Csihar at his most operatically deranged, never lacking conviction yet occasionally overpowering and ostentatious. Still, I appreciate and enjoy the commitment to the unhinged performance, and although dialing it back a little would make Dionysiaque’s latest more accessible, I’ve come to love La Tourbe des Rêves without apology. So don’t be afraid to let a little love into your heart—go get debauched with Dionysiaque’s aphrodisiac.

Creeping Ivy’s Pandemonic Pleasure

Mammon’s Throne // My Body to the Worms [March 13th, 2026 – Hammerheart Records]

In advising his fellow fallen angels—recently expelled from Heaven—to turn Hell into a competing kingdom, Mammon projects that All Demons will ‘work ease out of pain / Through labor and endurance.’4 Satan doesn’t heed this advice, but the third LP from Mammon’s Throne arguably does. On My Body to the Worms, this Australian five-piece inflicts pleasurable pain upon metaldom via five filthy slabs of sludgy death-doom (plus two instrumental reprieves). Mammon’s Throne conjure Hooded Menace, Temple of Void, and (old) Worm in their proclivity for plodding tempos, swampy riffs, and gravely howls (“Elixir”). The album is also a labor of love for classic (death-) doom à la Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride, mixing gothy croons, ascendant melodicism, and haunting piano into the band’s sinister stew (“Every Day More Sickened,” “At the Threshold of Eternity”). Though the listener does need some endurance, as three of the five non-instrumentals hover in the 8–9 minute range, the record flows fluidly across an easy 42 minutes. If you ever wondered what metal in league with Mammon might sound like, give My Body to the Worms a spin.

UK doom metal saviors Godthrymm are a damn good band. If you’ve had a chance to listen to either their full-length debut Reflections or their follow-up in 2023’s mighty Distortions, you already know just how talented and outright heavy their brand of doom and traditional metal can get. Then again, you’d also know that their pedigree (with stints in Vallenfyre, Solstice, and of course My Dying Bride, among others) pretty much guaranteed a rock-solid backdrop to their sound. With all that said, I’ve awaited Projections, their final piece to their Visions, for as long as it was announced. Now that it’s upon us, and I’ve had a chance to spend a good, solid week with it, I’ve got some major concerns.

Before I get into the reasons why, let’s focus on the good. There are no poor performances on the album from anybody. Lead-off single “Truth in My Own” is classic Godthrymm through and through, with Hamish Glencross and newcomer Kris McLaughlin throwing down riff after heavy riff, and Hamish’s voice is once again in fine form, especially when he sings alongside his wife, keyboardist Catherine Glencross. Elsewhere, “Endure My Skin” features a fine performance by former My Dying Bride (and current High Parasite) vocalist, Aaron Stainthorpe, reuniting him with Hamish and fellow MDB alumni, drummer Shaun Taylor-Steels. Those two songs are Godthrymm personified.

Sadly, there are four other songs on here,1 and that’s where the concerns lie. Opener “Trenches Deep,” which features Adie Bailey (English Dogs) and Jay Walsh (Xentrix) providing additional vocals, starts off promising enough, but for whatever reason, transitions into a thrash tune that sounds eerily like MDB’s “The Forever People,” and the way it was shoehorned in is anything but natural. At the other end, closer “Hope is Eternal” starts off with an impressive drum fill by Taylor-Steels, and a somber performance by Catherine, until we get to the chorus, which features Catherine wailing “MEEEEEEeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee…” repeatedly. In fact, Catherine features more vocally on this album than Hamish, which isn’t a bad thing at all. I just wish the songs were better, with the other two songs, “Jewels” and “The Sun Never Fell,” not making an impact with me no matter how many times I listen, and no matter who is singing.

It doesn’t help that there are production issues as well. For some inexplicable reason, about halfway through the thrash portion of “Trenches Deep,” there’s a noticeable volume dip, as well as some major compression. I don’t know if this was intentional, but it’s highly off-putting. That volume dip would later reverse itself as “The Sun Never Fell” jacks the volume back up for no reason at all. On my first listen, I thought I was imagining things when it came to the production side, but on repeated listens, they’re right there, and they’re distracting on an album that’s already having a tough time winning me over on a songwriting level. And that absolutely sucks to say, especially since Godthrymm, up until now, has been delivering nothing but slam dunks on each of their preceding albums.

This is not how I envisioned reviewing Projections. In what should have been a hat trick, I’m left baffled and more than a little disappointed. I’m hoping this is just a hiccup, as Godthrymm stand toe-to-toe with the absolute best in British doom metal, rivaling the best that many of the heroes of that genre. With Reflections, they channeled the very best love letter to the classics of yore. On Distortions, they added their own flavor and punch to that sound, resulting in my favorite album of 2023. Sadly, on Projections, I’m listening to this solely for writing this review, and little else. This is not how I wanted things to transpire.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

There’s a common misconception from readers of this fine blog that we writers are well-versed, well-traveled, and have kept abreast of all the happenings and goings-on within the world of our favorite genre of music. I hate to pop your bubble gum, but that’s wildly untrue. We all have lives, careers, and people in our lives that take time away from listening to new music from artists that we have always loved or, in my case here, artists we’ve been wanting to check out, but for some reason haven’t. A Forest of Stars, the British avant-garde septet, are that band for me. Their newest, Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface, their first album in eight years and sixth overall, is here for dissection, and I’m going in almost completely blind, and without a single note heard prior.

I’m already anticipating the hate mail for this, but from what everyone told me of AFoS, it’s a heady mix of British Black Metal,1 doom metal, and spoken word. All good things, in my book! Plus, Katheryne, Queen of the Ghosts helped bring back the violins for My Dying Bride’s 2009 album, For Lies I Sire, which again is a good thing! And despite it being over 73 minutes, Stack Overflow rarely meandered or sat in place for too long, making for an engaging listen throughout. Opener “Ascension of the Clowns” sets a doomed tone, quietly and somberly setting the scene before Mister Curse begins ranting like the proselytizers across the street from where I work. Maniacal and unrelenting, Curse’s caustic delivery and unhinged performances sometimes seem at odds with the framework of the music, but the two sides need each other as much as they want nothing to do with each other.

And that odd dichotomy propels Stack Overflow, especially in the final half-hour-plus one-two punch of both “Sway, Draped in Vague” and “Not Drinking Water.” The former, also awakening a faux dreamy vibe before sending the listener careening through the backstreets of London, with Curse and Katheryne trading off vocal lines while Mr. T.S. Kettleburner and Mr. William Wight-Barrow unleash some incredible riffs and tremolo melodies blanketing Katheryne’s sweeping violins towards the song’s middle, making the song’s 17 minutes feel like a journey. “Not Drinking Water,” in contrast, feels downtrodden in the beginning, containing some of the album’s slowest moments, before hitting what could accurately be called a humdinger of a jam session right at the song’s midpoint, with solos and hooks galore to wrap up both a fantastic closer, as well as a hell of a way to finish out the album.

Of course, there are some issues with Stack Overflow. While most of the material flows seamlessly, there does seem to be some fat to trim, especially in some of the more atmospheric moments. Also, while there isn’t a single weak moment on the album, it really is best experienced in one sitting with most of the lights off, some candles, your favorite beverage, and (if you partake) your smoking implement of choice, and for some, 73 minutes is a big ask for many of us, especially if you’re busy like I am. However, if you can make the time and get in the right headspace, you will be rewarded handsomely.

I’m due for some weirdness, especially in the departure of Voices.2 Not only does Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface scratch that itch until it bleeds, but it also turned me on to a band that I went from “I need to check them out sometime” to “Okay, how much is their stuff on Bandcamp?” in record time. A Forest of Stars, in a just world, should be heralded as purveyors of odd, eclectic metal. Here’s hoping that Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface is as much a jumping-on point for many of you as it was for me. Believe me, you can do a hell of a lot worse.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Miguel Santos loves Edgar Allan Poe. He turned that love into a (sort of) one-man metal project called A Dream of Poe and uses a place called Tell-Tale Studios for mixing and mastering his records—Poe is clearly dear to his heart. The musical dream nearly crumbled, however, when a fire ravaged Santos’s home, destroying the music he’d written for his latest album—all but one song. This must have been devastating, yet from the ashes he resurrected the music and its tale about one character’s descent into the lowest of places: the underworld. Katabasis: A Marriage Among Ashes uses the symbolism of ashes as a parallel to Santos’s own personal tragedy in order to chronicle the agony of loss. The result is an album defined not by bleak darkness, but a sad beauty.

If you’re going to create a band inspired by Poe, there’s no genre more fitting than gothic doom mixed with the classical Romanticism of symphonic instruments. A Dream of Poe takes the form of My Dying Bride without its crushing brutality and the classicism of Tempestuous Fall without its opulence. Katabasis is a surprisingly tender and gentle piece of doom. The pianos and violins add a soft touch, and the guitars strum lovely melodies. The marriage of gentle and lightly brutal opens things on the poignant “The Wail of Gaea,” where the strings and pianos take turns setting a melancholic tone. “The Lament of Phaethon” begins with arpeggios and vocals that take on a folky Dolven vibe, and blaring horns late in the song tell of bad omens to come. Santos shows a knack for hooky choruses, particularly on the catchy “Lamia.” The hookiness returns on the finale, “À Medida de Damastes,” sung in what I assume is Santos’s native Portuguese. This tune kicks up the energy slightly, à la Paradise Lost, before descending into a chilling surge of terror that shatters the peace A Dream of Poe had previously maintained.

A Dream of Poe is technically a one-man project, yet Santos collaborates with a number of musicians who help shape Katabasis. Two of these collaborators split the bulk of the singing duties. Kaivan Saraei handles the first four tracks, with a voice that carries a gothic calm, evoking Dolven’s Jori Apedaile. João Melo, who closes the record out, has a more earthy tone that grows rawer when it increases in intensity. Santos himself contributes, briefly, with some growls that may be underpowered, but fit with the gentler nature of the album. Though Santos handles almost all instruments, other musicians aid in some small but important roles. Ruben Correia plays several guitar solos across Katabasis, providing some nice breaks from the gloom, notably on “Lamia” and “The Captivity of Hesperus.” Correia also plays violins on “The Lament of Phaethon” and “Lamia,” where he brings an organic and poignant touch to what are already terrific tunes. Regardless of who contributes, the musicians pour their hearts and souls into creating this emotionally striking work of art.

With funeral doom, lengthy slow burns are par for the course, yet writing a song that doesn’t overextend itself becomes a tricky balancing act. A majority of tracks on Katabasis fall in the seven-minute range and feel just right. The eleven-minute “Exhorting Nightmares” proves an exception. At seven minutes, it would have been fine, yet Santos keeps it going and even tacks on an ill-advised spoken word section towards the end. On the whole, Katabasis falls into a rather tight 45 minutes, so it’s only a minor complaint. The only other knock against the record is the lack of power behind the guitars and growls. A Dream of Poe is not aiming for the sort of power that My Dying Bride consistently delivers, but a little extra oomph here and there would have made a greater emotional impact.

It would have been so easy to give up in the midst of the loss Santos suffered. Yet he forged ahead and revived his lost music. While Katabasis presents a descent into a bleak place, there is something triumphant in the finished product. Santos, it seems, found himself at the edge of the pit, the imp within contemplating the fall, before the pendulum swung back and pulled him from the brink. He heard the beat of the Tell-Tale Studios and found himself driven not by madness, but by a desire to create his music and leave an indelible mark on the world of heavy metal.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

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“If You’re Struggling A Bit, Try And Be Creative” – MY DYING BRIDE / HIGH PARASITE Singer AARON STAINTHORPE Speaks On Mental Health; Video

https://bravewords.com/news/if-youre-struggling-a-bit-try-and-be-creative-my-dying-bride-high-parasite-singer-aaron-stainthorpe-speaks-on-mental-health-video/

#MYDYINGBRIDE #HIGHPARASITE #IfYou #Struggling #EP #video #interview #BraveWords #metal #music

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Watch HIGH PARASITE Feat. MY DYING BRIDE’s AARON STAINTHORPE Peform “Wasn’t Human” At Bloodstock 2025; Pro-Shot Video

https://bravewords.com/news/watch-high-parasite-feat-my-dying-brides-aaron-stainthorpe-peform-wasnt-human-at-bloodstock-2025-pro-shot-video/

#HIGHPARASITE #MYDYINGBRIDE #Watch #Feat #album #video #BraveWords #metal #music

German death-doom outfit Décembre Noir has received a fair amount of praise here over the years, with four of their five albums garnering ‘Great’ to ‘Good’ ratings from three of AMG’s finest—Madam X, Huck N’ Roll and, most recently, Ferox, whose review of 2023’s Your Sunset | My Sunrise cited a band that may be resting on laurels, perhaps having lost touch with its muse. Whether those issues led Sebastian Görlach, founding guitarist and one of two main songwriters, to depart the band in the Spring of 2024 is unclear. It is, however, germane since he has returned with a new death doom project, Avertat, and a debut album, Dead End Life. While Görlach admits it was hard to walk away from his “baby,” Avertat offers him the opportunity to reunite with “the same forces that have always defined his relationship with metal: emotional truth, atmospheric depth, and the ability to transform darkness into sound.” All that’s left to decide is whether Avertat, and more importantly, Dead End Life, has any future.

On Dead End Life, Avertat draws from the same well of desolate darkness that Décembre Noir has plumbed for years. Add a fair amount of My Dying Bride to the mix, and you can sense what Avertat is about. From skins to strings, Görlach impressively handles all of Dead End Life’s instrumental responsibilities, even contributing his own deathly growls—here, a satisfying mix of Mikael Akerfeldt and Lars Dotzauer.1 Tracks adhere to a tried-and-true formula, oscillating between speedier, chug-heavy melo-death (“Your Hate,” “The Sea”) and slower-paced, melancholic doom (“[7],” “Call to Death”). And while the addition of clean vocals is hardly groundbreaking, the crisp, prog-poppy tones of non-metal newcomer Enrico Langguth—eerily reminiscent of Tim Charles (Ne Obliviscaris)—are refreshing and bright, serving as a dynamic counterpoint to Görlach’s gruffness.2 Langguth’s emotively hopeful delivery both assuages and drives home the pain of Dead End Life’s deeply emotional stories, which are as heavy as Avertat’s music.

Avertat wastes no time getting down to its bleak, loss-is-life business. Album opener “Your Hate” sets the tone, its chunky, angry riffs, razor-sharp leads, and driving drum beats employed to tell the story of an abused child grown up to take care of his abusive parent as Görlach roars the lyric, “Whenever your hand rises, time blurs within me, I am the child that endures it,” before pleading, “When will you stop, when will you stop living?” This anguish cedes to another as the beautiful piano intro of “[7]” introduces us to the painful tale of Marianne Bachmeier.3 Doomy chords and lilting leads are the backdrop as Langguth croons a mother’s lament, “Seeking out for her smile, I always search for her hand, always held onto her so close”4 before death-heavy riffs and Görlach’s growls come crashing in, “Every shot looses the chains, gifts me freedom for the moment,” reflecting a mother’s vigilante-fueled grief and anger. Whether it’s the Line of Deathless Kings-like lilting leads and doomy riffs of “Call to Death” and “Last Request,”—the former a song about war as told through the eyes of war, replete with some Bolt Throwerish chugs—or the long-form doom-goodery of “My Blood,” recounting a father’s pride, Avertat packs a wallop.

Barely shy of 39 minutes, Avertat doesn’t loiter, and despite the brevity of this kind being rare in the genre, it definitely increases Dead End Life’s replay value. In fact, as the final strains of “Last Request” faded from my speakers, I found myself longing for another song, settling instead to start Dead End Life again. Görlach’s production—yes, he produced Dead End Life too—is warm and enveloping, leaving little for me to quibble with. I suppose, if pressed, I could say I connected least with the blast beats of “The Sea,” as they ran rampant under slower-paced guitars and vocals, but honestly, ’twas a small thing. I just wish there was MOAR!

Avertat delivers a heartfelt experience on Dead End Life, rife with emotional and musical heaviness—elevated by the back-and-forth vocal trade-offs of Görlach and Langguth. While I can’t pontificate on Décembre Noir’s future without Sebastian Görlach, I can absolutely say that Avertat’s future looks bright, despite a recipe that peddles in darkness. I will absolutely be here for whatever comes next, and so too should you.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Lifeforce Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

It’s been some time since Splendidula has visited these pages. The fearsome Carcharodon reviewed their sophomore record, Post Mortem, as a wee n00b long ago in 2018, wherein he saw glimmers of potential in the gothic doom metal. He didn’t cover 2021’s Somnus for unknown reasons, though I think he might have been pleased with the heavier post-metal inclinations that permeated the record. The years since then have been rough for this Belgian group, marred by the passing of several loved ones, including their bassist Peter Chromiak. Absentia emerges in the wake of these tragedies as a means to both express and confront this debilitating heartache and loss.

Chromiak’s absence is felt in the very essence of Absentia. Although drummer Joachim Taminau took up the bassist role, the burly bass presence from the prior two records is all but gone. Splendidula kept much of their gothic doom but, fittingly, chose to fill the void with another of metal’s most expressive subgenres—DSBM. Whereas Kristien Cools previously stuck to clean vocals (for the most part), she now becomes both beauty and beast, dividing her time between sorrowful singing and shrieking. She also leans on a couple of notable guest vocalists. Tim Yatras (Austere) adds blackened snarls and backing cleans to “Absentia,” followed by Aaron Stainthorpe (ex-My Dying Bride, High Parasite), who contributes his rumbling growls and velvety baritone to “Echoes of Quiet Remain.” These guest selections neatly encapsulate the two different aspects of Absentia.

Absentia by Splendidula

While much music (and art in general) is born from a place of grief, Absentia is practically synonymous with it. Underneath the stoic exterior lurks a raw torment that flares up whenever and however it wants. For example, “Donkerte” begins with despondent singing, but as the verse progresses, Cools’s voice escalates until finally a primal scream spills out. Later, the double-tracked cleans and screams give the impression of one putting on a brave face as anguish roils inside. When her voice dips into the lower ranges (particularly in “Absentia” and “Let It Come to an End”), it takes on a sort of nasally drawl which augments the mournful atmosphere, though this likely won’t appeal to everyone. Also like grief, sections of certain songs tend to linger for longer than one might like (“Echoes of Quiet Remain,” “Kilte,” “Absentia”).

Absentia musically conveys the importance of a healthy support system during times of grief. Though much hinges on Cools’s vocal performances, the other two members of Splendidula help to sustain her in subtle but important ways. During “Dalkuldar,” a forlorn respite from the turmoil, the snare rhythms and bass drum beats are akin to a bolstering drumline. The tempestuous percussion also heightens the sense of desperation in “Kilte.” Closing track “Let It Come to an End” flips the script, letting Cools take a backseat and bringing guitarist Guy Van Campenhout’s growls to the forefront, perhaps emblematic of leaning on loved ones during times of crisis.

In terms of emotional devastation, Absentia is as potent a record as you’re likely to find. Kristien Cools keeps improving with each release, and the compositions complement her increasingly diverse vocal styles well. The deeply personal nature of Splendidula’s work of art is both strength and weakness. The intense and authentic expression of grief is harrowingly beautiful, but in a way that seems impossible for an outsider to fully appreciate. Like attending a funeral for someone you didn’t know, it’s easy to empathize with those in mourning but difficult to feel the same deep personal connection. That said, the next time grief comes for me personally, I may be very grateful that I became acquainted with Absentia.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: splendidula.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Splendidula
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

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