While most people would argue that “black metal” was founded by bands like Venom, Bathory, and Mercyful Fate, the scene didn’t really become what it is without the creation of Norwegian black metal. Which, in turn, people will argue was founded by Mayhem, Burzum, Darkthrone, Immortal, and the like. But people forget acts like Ulver, Urgehal, Satyricon, and Gorgoroth (and others) that helped form the genre. If you know Grier, you know how much Urgehal and Gorgoroth mean to his youthful, black metal development. They are also home to two of his favorite black metal raspers of all time: Trond Bråthen (Trondr Nefas) and Kristian Eivind Espedal (Gaahl), respectively. Before Gaahl made his mark on Gorgoroth classics like Twilight of the Idols – In Conspiracy with Satan and Ad Majorem Sathanas Gloriam, he already had his own band: Trelldom.

Trelldom doesn’t get enough love. But Angry Metal Guy knew what was up when he went back in time to explore easily one of the genre’s greatest hits: Til et annet…. This record is a fucking masterpiece that shows a side of Gaahl you might not know. Those who have followed him throughout his various exploits know full well that Gaahl is a weird guy with some of the creepiest fucking vocals on the planet. But Trelldom’s trilogy of albums from 1992 to 2007 was untouchable. Fast forward to 2024, and the band returns with …By the Shadows…, an even weirder concoction of songs than ever before. Taking a darker direction with a new lineup of legends, …By the Shadows… represented an impressive comeback for the band, rebranded into something more diverse and heartfelt than before. Right on the coattails of that album comes this year’s …By the Word…. And it’s everything you’d expect from a follow-up.

Returning with the mighty Stian Kårstad (ex-Djerv, ex-Gaahls Wyrd, ex-God Seed) and kit powerhouse Kenneth Kapstad (Thorns, Goat the Head, ex-God Seed, and a billion other bands), Gaahl rounds out his lineup with practitioners of the bass, saxophone, clarinet, organ, Dobro guitar, bass harmonica, mandolin, Shankar guitar, and even the fucking Optigan to deliver one of the most unique records of his life. “When This Was Young” opens the record with proggy bass and drums, matching perfectly with Gaahl’s soothing cleans. When the chuggery kicks in, Kapstad’s drums let loose, showing off his impressive skills and giving the song (A) Senile Animal-era Melvins vibes. As it progresses, the effects intensify, melding themselves into the guitars and creating unnecessary madness throughout.

But the opener might be the “chillest” song on the record. By “I Speak Forgotten Voices,” you’ll know that …By the Word… is far more unhinged than its predecessor. The overlapping effects, unsettling vocals, and relentless, pounding drums remove any peace …By the Shadows… might have had. But it’s the mindfucking back-to-back closers, “The Word – Choose to Vanish” and “In There Outside,” that show just how far Trelldom has pushed their sound. Chock-full of all those different instruments mentioned before, “The Word – Choose to Vanish” doesn’t so much add layers as mold everything into the most grotesque monster I’ve heard in a long time. And when you think you’ve heard everything you could from Trelldom, “In There Outside” proves to be one of the more diverse on the album. Throwing you off immediately, the whining woodwinds are replaced with yet another alteration of Gaahl’s vox as the song builds on itself over and over again, resulting in more orchestral qualities than any other track.

…By the Word… is batshit crazy and cerebrally damaging. Where …By the Shadows… at least had moments of relief, this new record does not. Beyond the weird combination of guitars, saxophone, and clarinet screaming at you from all directions, it’s the bass and drums that cause the most damage. Mixed far too the front, the drums, in particular, are ear-shattering. That sounds negative, but it does a hell of a job keeping you off balance. Specifically, when it comes to the devastating “Folding the Mind.” It’s almost as if the band decided it was time to let Kapstad off the leash. …By the Word… is an interesting album that pushes beyond anything the band has done before. It can never be Til et annet… but that’s OK because they aren’t going for it. This new era is worth exploring and …By the Word… is a new benchmark.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: trelldom.bandcamp.com | trelldom.no | facebook.com/trelldom1992
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Among the foundations of heavy metal are resistance and counterculture. Thus, it makes sense that a young Norwegian band, Sabotør, decided to create a record regaling tales of the Norwegian resistance against Nazi Germany. This period birthed the term Quisling as synonymous for traitor when Vidkun Quisling attempted to take Norway down a path of Nazism. The Norwegian resistance thwarted his plans by using tactics such as an underground press, “ice fronts” that served to alienate Germans from Norwegian society, and anti-Nazi jokes meant to make the Nazis look foolish. It wasn’t all non-violence, either. They managed to sink a German cruiser called the Bluecher.1 This all sounds like great material for an album, and I’m only saddened I don’t speak Norwegian to understand what these lads are singing about. While I don’t know the words, I can appreciate the music as raucous, fun, and a little deranged.

True to its themes of resistance, Første Aksjon (roughly translated as first action or first strike) features a collection of old school abrasive punk/thrash tunes sure to stir the rebel in you. The raw, high-energy sound brings to mind Kill ’em All era Metallica, and opening song “Jerngrepets Inntog,” could almost be a lost track from that classic debut. There’s a hunger and passion that echoes those early Metallica years, and it brings a freshness and earnestness to the music. I also hear some early Kvelertak, and Sabotør cites the obscure Brocas Helm as a major influence. Like any good resistance movement, the music is unpredictable yet incessantly energetic. This means non-stop riffs, solos, and blasts of the snare drum. Sabotør are not above hooks, with a catchy chorus that appears out of nowhere on “Skyggens Frekvens” and makes you want to sing/shout along with it. Rasmus Strømberg also catches listeners off guard with sudden leaps into vocal harmonizations that just add to the catchiness (“Jerngrepets Inntog”, “Sabotør,” “Flagget”). In all, Første Aksjon is pure fun.

The musicians display a show of raw power and passion that makes Første Aksjon constantly exciting. Strømberg’s deranged vocal performance leads the way. He mixes the abrasion of Kvelertak’s Ivar Nikolaisen, the mania of Sergeant Salsten (Deathhammer), and even some touches of a young James Hetfield, particularly those pre-pubescent screeches. He screeches, shouts, screams, and growls through more than 30 minutes of intense music, and that’s not all. He has an entertaining cadence that proves him to be a superb raconteur. He’s full of surprises, turning the speed to 11 on “Brente Jords Taktikk” and then turning in a raucous bit on “Jevnet Med Jorden” where he sounds like an auctioneer speaking in tongues. The other musicians also contribute to the mania, particularly drummer Mathilde Solemdal. He ensures a non-stop energy with his frequent snare hits, cymbal blasts, and frenetic blast beats. Guitarist Andreas Remmen provides a semblance of sanity with controlled yet energetic riffs. He provides plenty of melody, thrashy riffs, and even some cool arpeggios (“Flagget”).

The only thing holding Sabotør back is the production. This is an instance where the high DR score (12) seems at odds with how the record sounds. In some ways, it sounds great, with crisp and clear instrumentation, including the bass. The lower quality of my promo copy probably contributed to my sound issues. I found the album to be on the quiet side and had to turn the volume up to hear it properly. However, the snare tone is too loud, and its incessant presence proves a headache. While the brief album length makes for easier repeat spins, the mix will make you want to give your ears a rest before long. There are a couple of other distracting bits, including a section on “Flagget,” where a plane engine sounds more like rumbling flatulence. While the rawness is appropriate, Første Aksjon could benefit from better balance in their mixing.

As Sabotør’s own bit of first action, Første Aksjon proves to be an impressive debut. As the Indiana Jones flicks demonstrate, it’s fun to defeat Nazis. These guys continue that tradition, while also demonstrating the effectiveness of resistance in the face of authoritarianism. Sabotør also exhibit the joy of listening to hungry young musicians who just want to play what they love. There’s plenty to love here, and plenty to look forward to as these musicians mature in their songwriting.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 12 | Format Reviewed: ~165 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

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At their best, Dimmu Borgir exudes a wicked majesty, governing the forces of darkness with dispassionate contempt and an utter certainty in their ungodly mandate. This attitude, along with the confluence of grandeur and melodrama, defines what initially drew me to Dimmu Borgir years ago, and what has kept me interested despite the interminable gaps between releases. Since forming in 1993, Shagrath and Silenoz have consistently delivered symphonic black metal that tempers the unrelenting acrimony of second-wave black metal with wistful melodies, sculpting an extensive emotional palette. In 2000, Dimmu Borgir enlisted Old Man’s Child’s Galder as lead guitarist, and the three of them penned bewitching black metal for a quarter century. As with all good things, though, it didn’t last, and Galder departed in 2024 to focus on Old Man’s Child once more. Given the shakeup of a longtime winning formula, do Shagrath and Silenoz silence naysayers with Grand Serpent Rising, or are listeners saddled with Temu Borgir?1

As ever, Dimmu Borgir discharges extravagant theater through the lens of black metal, drenching Grand Serpent Rising in haunting atmospherics and lush orchestrations. Since Death Cult Armageddon, the incorporation of symphonic elements has steadily grown more prominent, and over the years, these Norwegians have carved out a niche that exists somewhere between Gorgoroth and Nightwish. And like Cradle of Filth, Dimmu Borgir goes for baroque, though instead of luxuriating in garish excess, they compose with nuanced sophistication. Grand Serpent Rising is the culmination of the intervening albums, with Galder’s departure pushing Dimmu Borgir to fill the void he left with more deliberate arrangements. Thankfully, Grand Serpent Rising advances what yielded success for the band over the last couple decades, dredging textural depths and honing the intricate interplays of instrumentation that didn’t reach quite far enough on Eonian.

Though Shagrath and Silenoz shoulder many of Grand Serpent Rising’s performances, a handful of guests play pivotal roles in defining one of Dimmu Borgir’s best-sounding records. Longtime session and live drummer Daray gets an immediate boost, where the drumheads’ natural timbres and resonances leap out of the mix to imbue a thunderous dimension missing from Eonian (“The Qryptfarer,” “Phantom of the Nemesis”). The orchestrations and keyboards also integrate better on Grand Serpent Rising,2 their presence is more intentional and interwoven in lieu of Galder’s nimble lead work. None of this should suggest that the guitars take a backseat, though, as Silenoz and Kjell ‘Damage’ Karlsen (Chrome Division)3 pluck and shred with conviction as songs demand (check the intro to “Repository of Divine Transmutation” and the solo in “Ascent”). The riffs and leads merit attention as well, with soaring melodies (“Slik Minnes en Alkymist”), crystalline cleans (“As Seen in the Unseen”), and trem-picked offensives emboldening the Serpent. All the while, Shagrath croaks (“Slik Minnes en Alkymist”) and croons (“Ascent”), supplying one of black metal’s least abrasive vocal styles.

Dimmu Borgir prevails throughout Grand Serpent Rising, although a few issues from previous albums linger. At sixty-nine minutes long, Grand Serpent Rising sprawls. To be fair, the album is dynamic and intricate enough that parts rarely (if ever) feel repetitive, and proceedings slither quicker than the length suggests. Yet condensing the runtime by ten minutes would improve the overarching impact and effectiveness. Compounding and confounding the duration is the complexity of Grand Serpent Rising’s arrangements—they richly reward those with the patience to fully engage for multiple listens, but present a hurdle for impatient or distracted listening. Still, while the album isn’t perfect, these complaints pale in comparison to the triumph Dimmu Burger devises on Grand Serpent Rising.

In the end, Dimmu Borgir has written an album that refines their sound rather than reinventing it. If you’ve listened to any of their recent albums and formed an opinion, Grand Serpent Rising won’t change it. Instead, it proves that Dimmu remains as skilled as ever at creating opulent symphoblack, regardless of how long it takes between albums or what crucial personnel changes they endure. Dimmu Borgir perseveres For all tid, and if you’re not wholly opposed to flamboyant black metal on principle, their latest awaits to stimulate, captivate, and ensure your Grand Serpent’s Rising.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

Yup, it’s late, and I don’t even feel bad about it. Because, once again, no promo, no stream, no nothing from the lovable assholes that are Nocturno Culto and Fenriz. Who would even write a review at this point? You don’t care. I don’t care. And Darkthrone certainly don’t care. Well… because I sorta care. Just a little.1 Mostly I care because I wanted to see if the band could bounce back after their dreadful 2024 release, It Beckons Deez Nutz…………. Though the band has been chasing “pre-historic” metal since their significant shit at Hate Them and Sardonic Wrath, one can only assume Pre-Historic Metal is meant as a definitive homage to the ways of the olde.2 Which means, half of the staff (and most of you) have already moved on to your hip, new-wave shit—sucking back a Truly and trying to hold your vape like you’re fucking Humphrey Bogart from The Maltese Falcon.3 I guess I’m the only one with balls around here.

Anyway, this new, ear-splitting opus from Darkthrone does indeed explore even more of the classics, ranging from Maiden gallops to Mercyful Fate guitar play and hair metal groovery—the good stuff. The stuff before Zack Morris and gang ruined fashion, music, and my life.4 With that, even come shifts that are new to the band. Like, having rocking, accessible grooves that you could put on the radio. Just kidding. Idiots. But you’ll be surprised by some of the arrangements and the slickness of the songwriting. The other thing Pre-Historic Metal has over many of the band’s previous releases is… RIFFS. Lots and lots of fucking RIFFS. Do they all work? No. Do they tend to blend? Yes. Do they still kick ass? Also, yes.

To open the album, “They Found One of My Graves” borrows some inspiration from Kill ‘Em All-era Metallica, delivering some hooking licks that transition only when the urge for Motörhead-meets-Mercyful Fate-isms takes hold. The result is the funnest song on the record, and perhaps one of the grooviest of the band’s career. “Siberian Thaw” is another with that big, fun energy. After the instruments gently fade in, the song alternates between mid-paced chuggery and waist-deep murkery. The best part comes around the middle, when everything falls away and is replaced by eerie effects and a stellar bass lead. I’m not sure I’ve heard such prominent bass work on a Darkthrone album before, but they should do it more often.

Following “Siberian Thaw,” “Deeply Rooted” takes many of its predecessor’s doomy, damning qualities and pushes harder against Pre-Historic Metal’s outer walls. Adding some melody to the mid-paced groveling, the song creates an ascending character that only climbs higher as it progresses. Like the previous track, “Deeply Rooted” has a definitive moment of stoppage before more Metallica vibes kick in and the band goes flying. Continuing with this ridiculous continuity that has existed since Soulside Journey and only recently carried on, the album closes with the fourth part of “Eon.” Unlike the rest of the album, “Eon 4” is far more Darkthrone in approach. It contains classic tremolos and a black metal edge. When Fenriz’s absurd vocals arrive, they somehow feel far more fitting on this song than on others. But, as with the rest of the album, the moment you think you’ve settled in, everything around you changes. This time, the 1980s hit you like a fucking brick as the band hammers out one of the most headbangable licks on the record. Toss in a horse chase of galloping energy, and you have a winner in “Eon 4.”

While the instrumental, “So I Marched to the Sunken Empire,” is mostly unnecessary, it does point to a time when it seemed like every metal album had at least one. And even though the title track sounds like tired, overdone Darkthrone, with its ugly chord bends and even uglier Fenriz vocals,5 it still contains a killer lick on the back-end that’ll have you growing out your hair.6 Pre-Historic Metal is exactly as described. It’s a journey back in time, delivered through the eyes of two metal titans that have been doing this shit for forty fucking years.7 And the result is one of the most straightforward the band has produced. Keeping the weirdness to a minimum and letting the riffs shine throughout. With a respectable master that lets all things surface at the right time, Pre-Historic Metal is one of the best Darkthrone records of this era.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: ALAC
Label: Peaveville Records | Bandcamp
Websites: facebook.com/darkthroneofficial
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

A little less than a year ago, Green Carnation dropped Part I of their A Dark Poem trilogy, The Shores of Melancholia. That captivating record sets the stage for the band’s ambitious Ophelia-inspired epic. While I know many loved The Shores of Melancholia as it stood (which is fair), I had a difficult time treating it that way, knowing it was meant to be a full experience. Thankfully, I can say that The Shores of Melancholia works even more now that I’ve heard A Dark Poem Part II: Sanguis. The Shores of Melancholia is a fantastic introduction to the unbearable depression, frustration, guilt, and sorrow that envelop Sanguis and its impeccably concise, thirty-seven-minute runtime. So, I’ll admit, individual albums should have stand-alone qualities. That way, listeners can absorb a record in the moment and in the entire experience when they have time for such a thing. We all know Part I mostly achieved that, but what about Part II?

I can thankfully say that Green Carnation has achieved both. Sanguis is a record you can put on repeat with no problems, while also setting both parts on in succession. Everything that was set up in the first album is cranked to eleven in the sequel. And not just in songwriting, riffage, aggression, or attitude. This is still Green Carnation, after all. The sad moments I felt with the first album are far more intense in the sequel. The riffs are harder than most of the songs the band has ever written, and the slower pieces have the emotion of a broken-hearted child. This is exactly what much of the lyrical content focuses on. If there ever was A Dark Poem by Green Carnation, Sanguis is it.

A Dark Poem, Part II: Sanguis by Green Carnation

The self-titled opener is simply one of the most epic on the disc. It picks up from where the previous album left off and slingshots you into a powerful new direction. Incorporating spacey effects with a headbangable groove and a soaring, melodic chorus, this nine-minute beauty sets the stage for what’s to come. When the rasps arrive at the halfway mark, the desperation in the clean vocals intensifies, bringing along that good ole Green Carnation sadness. But the moment it all seems to come to an end, it transitions once more, splashing every known color on the canvas as it builds, drawing all manner of moods through its dripping, streaking, and smattering visualizations. This track alone is worth the journey into Sanguis, but it’s only the beginning.

We take a step back into the warm embrace of calmness with the follow-up track, “Loneliness Untold, Loneliness Unfold.” Ripped straight from the cutting floor of Acoustic Verses, this gorgeous track is made even more special because it features Stein Roger Sordal on vocals. And, by god, can he stand up straight next to the mighty Kjetil Nordhus. The closer, “Lunar Tale,” is another in the same vein. Simplistic in approach (that’s really what makes it so powerful), it uses soft vocals and breathy flute to zap any happiness you might have in your current situation, and leave you battered, broken, and without hope. Another track worth mentioning explores some sounds of Green Carnation’s past. “Fire in Ice” is a nifty compilation of the band’s current era, smashed together with the rocking character of A Blessing in Disguise. Opening with some soothing clean guitars, it alternates between a classic groove and a bass/drum-led lull. Then, it erupts into a kickass riff that rocks the socks off my dick. This song incorporates the ferocity and beauty of Green Carnation better than any on the album.

Outside of some goofy progginess on the back half of “Sweet to the Point of Bitter,” Sanguis is arguably damn-near perfect. The opener conjures fist-pumping anger at the sky; “Fire in Ice” lets you stomp down everything that stands in your way; and “Loneliness Untold, Loneliness Unfold”1 is the emotional breakdown song we’ve needed all year. Toss in a handsomely dynamic master that lets even the smallest of morsels of melancholy rise to the surface, and you have something that is simply breathtaking for the band and the genre. If Green Carnation has never resonated with you, there is nothing I can do to change your mind. For those who need something in these trying times to bolster their spirits or tear them apart (if only for a moment to reset), Sanguis is here for you.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: greencarnationsom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/greencarnationnorway
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

Sometimes a record practically introduces itself with a shrug. Take Via Doloris and their debut Guerre et Paix. The band name? A shortened nod to the Via Dolorosa. The death of Jesus and some “suffering-as-identity” vibes that we’ve seen a thousand times in black metal. The album title? Literally War and Peace in French. The cover art? You’ve seen it. You have seen it—some grayscale, vaguely haunted expanse that could just as easily front a dozen other releases clogging up the “give in to your anger” section. None of this is a crime on its own, but stack all these choices together, and they start pinging that lizard-brain reviewer alarm: this looks like a mid-tier black metal album before a single note even plays. Then there’s the promo copy, dutifully promising “a passage through pain in search of meaning, and the distant, flickering promise of rebirth.” Is this thing good, or is it just another entry in the ever-expanding catalog of metal-by-numbers?

Via Doloris is the solo project of guitarist Gildas le Pape, who spent several years performing live with Satyricon, and Guerre et Paix marks his debut under the moniker. The sound is a comfortable middle ground between more straightforward, blast-driven, 2nd-wave riffing and more expansive, atmospheric impulses, with le Pape’s melody-forward riffs driving the compositions. His guitar work never veers too far off the blackened path, but he imbues each riff with a sneaky melodicity and deploys a fair amount of variety in his 6-stringed attack. There are notes of Havukruunu-esque pagan black melodies (“Communion”), swirling Blut Aus Nord icy arpeggios (“Omniprésents”), and searing, Anaal Nathkrakh-flavored bouts of black metal destruction (“For The Glory”). Throughout it all, le Pape’s knack for catchy, multi-faceted blackened riff-craft shines through. The parts are at once hypnotic and aggressive, and often deepened through intricate guitar layers, allowing songs to flow seamlessly between movements. I’ve found the entrancing outro to “Ultime Tourment” or the Fluisteraars-like motif of “Visdommens Vei 1” stuck in my head for weeks during the review, a testament to the strength of the guitar parts on display and to their immersive effect.

The songs on Guerre et Paix largely sit in the 6–7 minute range, and while Via Doloris doesn’t always wring every possible peak out of that runtime, le Pape makes it feel purposeful more often than not. A track like “Un Franc Soleil” is built around an engaging central riff that subtly evolves as the song progresses, even if it stops just shy of a full-blown crescendo. This approach carries across the record: rather than leaning on dramatic shifts, le Pape favors gradual layering and textural changes, letting songs breathe and unfold at their own pace. The songwriting tends to stick to a core tempo and feel, with variation coming from added guitar layers, drum patterns, or ambient elements rather than structural overhauls. While this can create a meditative consistency that makes certain parts and songs blend together, it ultimately works in the album’s favor, giving Guerre et Paix a cohesive, immersive flow that reinforces the strength of its ideas over the course of a full listen.

This is all buoyed by a seriously sharp production job. Guerre et Paix sounds immaculate. Produced by le Pape and mixed with Nicolai Codling, it opts for clarity over the genre’s usual haze with crystalline guitars front and center, cutting cleanly through even the densest passages. They’re icy but precise, with every layered phrase coming through intact instead of dissolving into mush. Frost (Satyricon, 1349) turns in a characteristically stellar session performance, and the mix gives him room to flex. The drums have a warm, natural quality to them that showcases a varied performance. It allows the more subdued sections to breathe while still filling the mix during more intense, blast-heavy moments. It all comes together to elevate the album’s most dynamic touches, letting details like the choral swell in “Omniprésents” or the melancholic closing progression of “Communion” land exactly as they should.

As it turns out, Guerre et Paix lands comfortably above the genre’s overcrowded middle tier. Via Doloris has delivered an immersive and nuanced atmospheric black metal record, carried by memorable, melodic guitar work that unfolds beautifully over contemplative songs. It sounds amazing and marks le Pape as a promising voice within the space. This is way better than the somewhat generic packaging would suggest.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: viadoloris.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/via.doloris
Releases Worldwide: March 20th, 2026

At first blush, pop music and progressive rock might seem too contradictory to be combined effectively. While the former prioritizes immediate accessibility, the latter prizes unconventional artistic expression. Even so, several Norwegian bands are finding immensely original ways to reconcile these differences. Moron Police and Meer have been showered with heaps of deserved praise by my colleagues, but I discovered my personal favorite of the bunch tucked at the very end of GardensTale’s Top Ten(ish) of 2022 list. Major Parkinson’s Valesa – Chapter I: Velvet Prison quickly became one of my most beloved records of all time with its inimitable charm and wit. All permanent band members have returned for Valesa – Chapter II: Viva the Apocalypse!, which is particularly relieving given vocalist Jon Ivar Kollbotn’s heart attack while performing on stage a few years ago. I’m grateful that the full crew is still here to delight audiences once more.

If there’s anything predictable about Major Parkinson, it’s their unpredictability. While the chimeric fusion of synth-pop and prog rock of Velvet Prison was drenched in 80s nostalgia, Viva the Apocalypse! feels somewhat more modernized. The guitar lines (Øystein Bech-Eriksen and Sondre Skollevoll1) are much more prominent and flashy, with full-on solos in “Showbiz” and “Superdad.” In fact, pretty much everything about Viva the Apocalypse! is flashy. Lars Christian Bjørknes’s2 piano keys that featured prominently in prior albums are mostly replaced by glitzy synths, frequently underscored by blazing trumpets3 and smooth saxophone.4 Brand-new guest vocalist Halie’s husky singing complements Kollbotn’s gravelly yet velvety tones extremely well. His voice has only become richer over time, bathing my ears as if with warm honey.

Valesa – Chapter II: Viva the Apocalypse! by Major Parkinson

Major Parkinson has always been defined by duality, but on Viva the Apocalypse! it’s sharper than ever. The first half of the record is full of ridiculously catchy, quirky arrangements and carefree curiosity. There are even sprinklings of funk (“Superdad”) and gospel (“Showbiz”). “Viva the Apocalypse!” is the climax of this feverish party, as trumpets, upbeat electronic tunes, and guitar riffs blast with reckless abandon. But something about all this mirth doesn’t feel quite genuine, and the second half of Viva the Apocalypse! grows more hostile as the mask starts to slip. “Karma Supernova” begins with ominous bass notes that intertwine with guitar and synth lines to signal something sinister approaching, with Sondre Veland’s drumming sporadically becoming frantic as tension builds and releases. His frenzied kitwork and the whirring synth tone at the end of “Maybelline” give the vivid impression that the record is about to self-destruct.

As different as the individual elements are on Viva the Apocalypse!, Major Parkinson again weaves them together into a unified and unique experience. I miss the eccentric interludes from Velvet Prison, but other songwriting tricks have carried over. As before, Viva the Apocalypse! leans on simple recurring lyrics to tie the tracks together with tickling déjà vu. Examples include “The world is on fire, and you look so beautiful” (“Superdad,” Kiss Me Now!”), and “Free drinks for everyone!” (“Showbiz,” “Karma Supernova”). I particularly love the one-two punch of “Superdad” and “Father Superior,” which (as their titles suggest) are deliciously complementary, both musically and lyrically. However, I’m less enthralled by Kollbotn’s unsettling shouting match with returning vocalist Peri Winkle in “Maybelline,” which contrasts starkly with their gentle duet in “Kiss Me Now!” Despite the powerful artistic statement, these closing tracks are more difficult to appreciate musically.

In many ways, Viva the Apocalypse! is Major Parkinson’s most incendiary chapter to date. It’s more technically impressive—the drums and guitars in particular get their chance to shine brightly. Once again, they have cleverly evolved their sound and leveraged a diverse supporting cast to enrich the musical environment. The first half of Viva the Apocalypse! is a fantastic dream from which I don’t want to wake, but the second half is meaner and less emotionally gripping for me. Still, there is something special going on here, just like in Norway’s prog scene as a whole. If the world is on fire, I’m glad that Major Parkinson is around to give us a good time as it goes up in flames.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Apollon Records
Websites: majorparkinson.bandcamp.com | majorparkinson.com | facebook.com/majorparkinson
Releases Worldwide: March 13th, 2026

Do you ever hear a punk song and think, “Sure, I’d also like to overthrow the establishment, but couldn’t you learn to play guitar a bit better?” Have you ever found yourself embarrassed to be banging your head to a sick black metal riff written and performed by one of the world’s most repugnant lowlifes? Yes. So have thousands of our brethren in every squat and co-op from Greece to Iceland; and as is their wont, they have taken matters into their own grubby hands, pressing a huge variety of records that radiate out from the collision of metal and hardcore in every hue and shade, from the bilious How Hate is Hard to Define to the cerulean Archivist. Rosa Faenskap, unsurprisingly, fit themselves into the long-wavelength end of that rainbow.

Practicing a particularly dark and frostbitten form of Euro-Lefty-Black-Hardcore, Rosa Faenskap find themselves between the vicious pallor of Thurm and the sanguine rage of Svalbard, on occasion reflecting a few fleeting tones from the early Plebeian Grandstand records. Emil Vestre grinds out icy tremolo leads as jagged as they come, crashing and crackling in coupled cacaphony with vocalist Håvard Solli’s snarling bass; in the pre-breakdown chug and pick-scrape of “Faenskap for alltid,” you’d swear you were standing six feet away from their amplifier in a damp Oslo basement. Drummer Anders Jansvik’s performance is likewise big and booming. Whatever the trio might lack, it’s not energy.

Ingenting Forblir by Rosa Faenskap

Though Rosa Faenskap are pretty green, this sophomore record is remarkably focused, holding its space through force and fury, hammering a few riffs as harshly as possible before their close. “Den Svake Mannen” rides a rung-out arpeggio so continuously that you can still hear it when Vestre switches over to tremolos, but I’m never disappointed to hear them return to it halfway through the song. “Faenskap for Alltid” pursues a more straightforward black metal at first, expertly executing a couple of stock tremolo metal riffs with a panache that I’m surprised to hear outside of a Spectral Wound record before the band shift from blackened to bruising, stomping through a breakdown and proclaiming “faenskap for alltid!” again and again.

Ingenting Forblir’s success stands in part on the band’s canny writing, but is far more indebted to its quality of sound. The record’s production and mix, handled by the band in collaboration with Oskar Johnsen Ryd and Torfinn Sommerfeldt Lysne, respects the vitality of the material, sounding live and livid. My only complaint is that Jansvik’s drums can get buried during busy sections, in part due to a muffled snare tone. Despite a low-DR master, the record is dynamic where it needs to be; when the band leave Vestre alone and pensive with their guitar, the quiet registers, and I feel myself slipping a bit closer in towards the record.

“Jeg Våkner Snart” closes Ingenting Forblir as the band’s most ambitious and successful song, layering tremolo leads over gang vocals, retreating into quiet, reverberating melody, and ending in a boiling conflagration of noise. For a sophomore record leaner and meaner than the band’s 2023 debut, it’s just the right ending. Ingenting Forblir hardly breaks new musical ground, but Rosa Faenskap’s sour determination will likely propel it into my regular listening rotation this year. In practice, I might not be up for faenskap for alltid, but I’ll happily recommend faenskap for lenge.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Fysisk Format
Websites: rosafaenskap.com | rosafaenskap.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

It’s been a long five years since we’ve had an album from this Norwegian foursome. Which is probably a good thing, considering their last few releases haven’t been their best by a long shot. Basically, since 2011’s V, the band has struggled to retain their days-of-yore sound while trying to expand on it and deliver something fresh. Having left Season of Mist and returned to Indie Recordings, now is the time to drop something new and exciting—especially if you’ve once again enlisted the mighty Mistur’s keyboard wizard, Espen Bakketeig, to lend a hand in the finished product. One spin in and Vreid fans will find a lot of what you’ve come to expect from the band, while also exploring some surprising new directions that are sure to drop your jaw. But, is that a good or bad thing for The Skies Turn Black?

As has become the norm for the band, we’re blessed with some killer guest appearances by the aforementioned Espen Bakketeig and Djerv’s Agnete Kjølsrud, a smart decision by Kampfar on the amazing Ofidians Manifest. While Bakketeig’s performance on 2021’s solid Wild North West, I felt he was underutilized when crafting his key atmospheres or lustful piano passages. Thankfully, that is not the case for The Skies Turn Black. Outside of the emotional piano interludes, you’ll find plenty of powerful, spacey, and quirky key atmospheres throughout. And Kjølsrud’s contributions to the almost gothy “Loving the Dead” make it one of the best songs the band has ever penned.1

The album begins on a strong note with “From These Woods,” which is one of the longer and more epic tracks. After opening with some soothing clean and acoustic guitars, the black metal assault ensues. After passing through a dark alley of echoing clean-vocal support, the new riff change is nastier and heavier than ever. But the moment you get settled in, the song comes to a screeching halt, unloading beautiful piano, soaring guitars, and lush, clean vocals. When it concludes, you’re whiplashed with a vicious attack because the fucking song still has two minutes to go. Another track that has similarities is “Smile of Hate.” This one has a simple but headbangable riff in the vein of Amon Amarth, that marches along at one point and collapses into another impressive piano passage. This time, a little less ethereal and more like the piano and key work of Dimmu Borgir.

But, like all Vreid records in the last decade, there’s a point where things get real weird. Not in a negative way, like some previous material. On The Skies Turn Black, it begins with “Kraken.” It turns out this track is part of the soundtrack to this year’s Norwegian “blockbuster,” Kraken.2 But being more synth-driven than guitar-driven, it has an eerie vibe that actually would work equally well in the movie Sorcerer.3 It’s not a standout track, but it’s the perfect introduction to “Loving the Dead” because it uses the same elements. As mentioned, this song stands way out because Kjølsrud dominates on vocals. This eight-minute epic takes you through so many emotions, from Kjølsrud’s vocals to the intertwined guitar work and the climactic finish. This special piece is definitely a Grier SotY contender.

There are plenty of other high moments on this record, which is hella nice to hear for a change. The track that really loses me, though, is “Echoes of Life.” It’s not a bad song, but it’s an odd duck of ’70s progness. While it’s smooth and clean, it’s too old-timey to fit with the rest of the album. Thankfully, the follow-up closer “The Earth Rumbles” reignites the fire before the album concludes. If “Echoes of Life” ended the record, I might be a bit more upset. But, I’m pleased to say The Skies Turn Black is Vreid’s best album since V. Which is wild to say considering there are four full-lengths in that time. The master is nicely done, letting everyone shine when it matters—especially the bass, which has always been a major staple to their sound. If the skies really are going to turn black, I’m here for it. After all, that’s better than the color they are these days.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: Stream | Format Reviewed: Stream deez nutz
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: vreid.bandcamp.com | vreid.no | facebook.com/vreidofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

Vreid - The Skies Turn Black

https://vreid.bandcamp.com/album/the-skies-turn-black

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