After 18 years and five full-length albums as frontman to The Lion’s Daughter, Rick Giordano decided “the daughter had to die so that the mother could live.” If that sounds morbid, it’s on purpose, as Giordano’s new project, Blood Mother,1 offers itself as a “score to your own personal horror film.” In forming this new project, Giordano further forges his musical independence, having previously divorced his music from the confines of a label (Season of Mist) for 2023’s Bath House. This allows him to create music that doesn’t fit neatly into any one category, and it makes sense that Blood Mother play an unconventional genre: post-metal. The question looms on Blood Mother’s self-titled debut whether Giordano is able to achieve success on his own terms.

Blood Mother hits plenty of experimental beats, blending atmospheric elements with bouts of impressive riffs. An early guitar riff on “Bonecanter” scratches the Kyuss itch, and his simple yet catchy approach to riffcraft shows up time and again throughout the record. Blood Mother keeps the songwriting simple, but it’s far from boring. Some of the riff-heavy portions sound reminiscent of The Lion’s Daughter, but Blood Mother is less heavy and less industrial. Giordano plays with guitar tones, mixing up sleek riffs, acoustic arpeggios (“Trail of Screaming Dead”), and plenty of heavy reverb à la Cult of Luna (“The Night Fires,” “The Wound of Heaven”). It’s not all about riffs, however. Blood Mother incorporate plenty of atmospheric techniques, including synths, to set up eerie, sometimes sinister moods—”The Night Fires” perfectly encapsulates this approach, beginning with unsettling synths before easing into an energetic pace. Natural sounds also make their way into the music, with crickets chirping at the start and end of “The Night Fires,” and birds and monkeys calling out on “The Wound of Heaven.” These flourishes add subtle touches to the sense of unease bubbling beneath the surface.

Giordano proves an adept songwriter, composing music that patiently builds up to a climax and tells a story. Blood Mother masterfully set the mood, be that the eeriness of “The Night Fires” or the Western, Wayfarer-esque feel of “Lost in Thunder.” But he also realizes mood isn’t enough, and that’s where the riff comes in, not to mention some impressive drumming from Ramsier. On the masterful “Trail of Screaming Dead,” Blood Mother methodically builds upon itself, beginning with organs, then jumping into lively drums and riffs, slowly adding new elements until some memorable tremolos bring the song to a conclusion. The music feels like gritty poetry, and the lyrics reflect this, written in poetic form and performed artistically in Giordano’s husky growls.

At just over 30 minutes, Blood Mother is a morsel rather than a full feast, and its conclusion leaves it somewhat wanting. Of the six songs that comprise that runtime, five of them are terrific pieces that eschew traditional structures, filling up spaces with music that can be thoughtful, deliberate, and sometimes exciting. On occasion, Blood Mother make some odd choices, such as synths in the final minute of “The Night Fires” that are deliberately jarring as they switch from one speaker to the other. Yet it’s the record’s finale, “Pulled Apart,” that doesn’t quite hold a light to the tracks that precede it. It still contains great ideas, including some nifty riffs and kitwork, but also some noises that just don’t blend into the music very well. It’s the one tune that doesn’t quite hit as hard as the others, and the concluding fade-out ends Blood Mother on an anticlimactic disappearing act.

For me, this was the perfect promo to match my mood. I wanted something that entertained without being formulaic. I wanted something that didn’t hit the usual beats, but wasn’t too weird. Blood Mother checks all those boxes. Sure, Giordano may have a few kinks to work out, but for a first-time striking it out (mostly) on his own, this is a pretty remarkable record, one that’s full of surprises and nuances that make for rewarding repeat listens.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

The year of the snake strikes again, and this time the venom flows through Heart of the Serpent. This US-based duo delivers black metal that slithers between second-wave and DSBM, and on their third spawn Unraveling, Heart of the Serpent concocts tortuous bursts of blackened intensity and slinky grooves coiled around thrashy and ambient interstices. Five years have passed since sophomore album Loathing, and in the intervening time Heart of the Serpent shed vocalist Urion, reducing the ensemble to a two-piece. On Unraveling, guitarist, bassist, and keyboardist Ulg absorbs vocal duties while Hulder’s live drummer Vapula returns to clobber the skins. As we hoist Heart of the Serpent onto the scale for judgment, will we find Unraveling buoyed by its charms or over-encumbered with musical sins?

Compared to Heart of the Serpent’s previous albums, Unraveling reveals itself as their most maturely composed. Unwinding at its leisure, Unraveling is the longest of the outfit’s three albums, though it still packs proceedings into just thirty-eight minutes. An extra few minutes may not seem like much, yet it’s enough to allow songs to fully gestate. This cultivates dynamic highs and lows that were hinted at on Contempt and Loathing, but Unraveling feels more fully developed. It also exhibits Heart of the Serpent’s cleanest production to date. This gives a much-needed emphasis to the bass guitar, especially when it bubbles to the fore of the mix to provide low-end punch. Still, the bulk of what Heart of the Serpent did previously remains—the execution is just more sophisticated.

For a two-man project, Unraveling feels remarkably robust. Vapula’s drumming deserves special mention, as his riveting performances and canny fills and rolls command the momentum on most of Unraveling’s tracks. Ulg carries his own weight, too, and the instrumentation churns with slow-burn intensity. Specifically, Heart of the Serpent invests more time than ever in unhurried builds, allowing Ulg to craft intoxicating guitar and bass interplay that largely eschews technicality yet is no less captivating for it. “Rust” and “Unraveling” both exhibit this pattern, where the bass prowls beneath austere guitar sustains as tension mounts in calculated anticipation. Hooks and serpentine melodies wend throughout Unraveling, proving seductively engrossing from song to song. The only track that doesn’t work for me is “Mourning/Asphyxia,” a five-minute ambient instrumental that saps momentum with its awkward placement and wearisome length. Given the lack of motifs to tether “Mourning/Asphyxia” to the rest of Unraveling, the track flounders without any obvious context for its inclusion. Working its themes into other tracks or cutting it altogether would induce a more seamless listening experience.

Given everything Heart of the Serpent does right on Unraveling, it’s a shame that some missteps inhibit what is otherwise an enticing outing. The momentum lapse stemming from “Mourning/Asphyxia” is my biggest complaint, though others further cramp Heart of the Serpent’s muscle. Unraveling’s production provides plenty of contrast and largely deserves appreciation, the drum tones often sound muffled. Considering the arresting performance Vapula discharges, I wish it packed a bit more oomph. The guitars and bass sound warm and fierce, though, ensuring a cozy nesting spot amidst the cold-blooded blasts of black metal. Lastly, the concluding dyad of songs are two of Unraveling’s best tracks, both of which are mostly characterized by slower paces and gentler moments, leaving listeners with a low-energy conclusion. Retooling the album’s song order or replacing “Mourning/Asphyxia” with a lean, second-wave scorcher moved between these tracks could help revitalize the back half of the album.

Ultimately, Heart of the Serpent delivers a varied and engaging slab of black metal marred by a few odd choices. Unraveling creeps close to a much better score, and if not for a few damning flaws, I’d be insisting how Heart of the Serpent dropped a very good platter that makes the score-counter sweat. Instead, I’ll settle for spreading the word that the Heart of the Serpent beats with the potential for greatness.

Rating: Mixed
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

When I nabbed the promo for Oak of Weeping, I had no idea what DSBM stood for. Death something black metal? It was a bit of a gut punch to learn it stands for depressive suicidal black metal. Of course, depression has been the scourge of artists from Sylvia Plath to Robin Williams. Metal serves as a musical outlet that allows artists to express their darkest thoughts through a unique means. Sure, pop musicians can sing about depression, but only metal allows one to dive into the raw ugliness of those feelings. I hope it’s a useful outlet for artists who play DSBM, and for anyone who suffers from depression, please seek help. DSBM generally distinguishes itself from other forms of black metal with pained, anguished vocals and a doomier tempo. This all serves as the backdrop for the debut record from Hungary’s Oak of Weeping, The Grave My Father, the Worm My Sister. András Lipták bases this one-man project not on his own personal life, but on scripture, pulling its lyrics straight from the Book of Job. With its colorful, poetic album and song titles, as well as a novel lens on biblical text, this is about as tempting as the fruit that doomed Adam and Eve to mortality.

Oak of Weeping builds its music upon simple yet catchy foundational riffs. Each song has as its base a single riff or trem while snappy blast beats set a mostly brisk pace. While I can’t speak for the lyrics, as they are all in Hungarian, the overall mood is certainly not depressive—at least not instrumentally. Often the opening trems or arpeggios set a mournful mood, but the blast beats convey a much more upbeat tone. In many ways, the music here reminds me of the joyous, Latin dance-inspired black metal of To Escape. By the end of the final song, “Now That My Eyes See You, I Despise Myself,” the trems are uplifting and triumphant enough to convert the non-believers.

Lipták’s vocal style, on the other hand, is like an emotional wrecking ball. On opener “Let the Day Perish on Which I Was Born,” he sounds agonized and in the painful throes of death. I understand his performance will likely turn many listeners off, but I found its raw nakedness mesmerizing. Each song brings a different side to him. “You Have Turned Cruel to Me” brings much mellower pained shouts, to the point that in the final minutes, he’s merely whispering his pain. Then on “For I Am Full of Words” he wails like an otherworldly creature, cartoonish and over the top almost to the point of parody. Lipták conveys pain and suffering on a primal, animalistic level that’s certainly not pleasant, but it is effective. His voice contrasts with the pleasant sound of the guitars and drums, as if purposely throwing the joy from the instruments off-kilter with the anguished cries from his throat.

A few issues do hold The Grave My Father, the Worm My Sister from being a better record. The major issue is the repetitive nature of the instrumentals. While Oak of Weeping play some fantastic guitar parts, the songs carry on for too long without any real variation in the riffs/trems. The unpredictable nature of Lipták’s vocals does make this somewhat less of an issue, however. Another weak link is the penultimate track, “The Gates of Deep Darkness,” which lacks the musicality of the other tunes. Harsh guitar tones serve to create noise rather than establish any sort of rhythm. There are a few other minor quibbles as well, such as the 40 seconds of silence to end the opening song. It’s the kind of thing that pulls you out of the music’s spell and makes you wonder if your app crashed.

Despite the genre, Oak of Weeping has crafted a very enjoyable and non-depressing black metal record. Fans of DSBM or atmoblack will find plenty to like, even if the vocals are rawer and more troubled than the usual fare. I suspect there’s some deeper meaning in choosing to create a DSBM album about the Book of Job, but alas, I haven’t brushed up enough on my Hungarian to read more deeply into it. Still, Oak of Weeping has a good ear for an enjoyable riff and an unconventional approach. That’s enough for me to want to hear what Lipták creates next.1

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

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.

When last we visited the Iron Kingdom, the frigid temps forced Holdeneye to don his special Arctic Wolf Fur Armor (providing +50% cold resistance). With the changing seasons, the climate has transformed into a desert under a scorching hot sun. These Canucks have been putting out classic-style heavy metal since 2011, though founders Chris Osterman and Leighton Holmes originally started the band under the moniker Twisted in 2004. Despite all that history, Shadows and Dust, their sixth album, will be just the second time they’ve graced these halls, following Holdeneye’s review of 2019’s On the Hunt. As prepared as Holdeneye was for the frigid setting of On the Hunt, his Arctic armor unfortunately could not handle the sudden increase in temperature. So I have come in his stead, donning my Hooded Cloak of the Dragon (+50% heat resistance) to travel the Iron Kingdom and report my findings.

On Shadows and Dust, Iron Kingdom remain defenders of the NWOTHM brand. With their instruments and voices, Iron Kingdom summon classic Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and Helloween. Much of what they offer is mid-tempo bruisers featuring energetic riffs and kit work. Opener “Defenders” proves to be the standard bearer for the mid-tempo stuff, with solid instrumentation and the catchiest chorus on the record. Iron Kingdom occasionally reach for Painkiller levels of thrash as well. The high-energy “Eternal Emperor” features some killer riffs and is so much fun it competes with the best in the genre. Only two songs fall below the four-minute mark (“Line of Fire,” “Dark Demands”), and these prove lean, mean thrash machines that inject the album with energy and momentum. Not that I frown upon the longer tracks. Iron Kingdom employs plenty of tricks to keep the music engaging, particularly energetic dueling solos from Osterman and Megan Merrick that are simply a blast.

The crew comprising this Kingdom prove themselves more than capable musicians. Osterman takes the traditional part of NWOTHM literally with a lively performance that mixes Bruce Dickinson and Michael Kiske. He hits the high notes, but has a light gruffness to keep songs from growing treacly sweet. Holmes provides occasional backup duty on some call-and-response portions. When he shouts “Fight or die!” in response to Osterman on “Line of Fire,” it’s just pure fun. Holmes also excels at the bass. This chosen weapon proves omnipresent thanks to the strong mixing, adding meat and groove to the underlying riffs. His terrific bass part on “Blood and Steel” turns that into a track highlight. Merrick and Osterman show off their stuff on the guitars, injecting the standard rhythm sections with some acrobatic fretwork that’s reminiscent of last year’s Helms Deep. Max Friesen handles kit duties with aplomb. His mid-tempo work keeps up a constant near-thrash level of energy to prime listeners for when songs do go to the next level.

Shadows and Dust shows a pretty significant creep in length compared to Iron Kingdom’s prior few albums. I believe this is the result of some slightly better song compositions, but also a little bloat. For the most part, these tunes don’t feel their length, but a few less memorable cuts do cause the record to sag. “Deadhouse Gates” threatens to kill the momentum mid-record as it becomes too repetitive in its final minute. Fortunately, “Line of Fire” comes to the rescue with a crucial momentum boost. Finale “Sacred Fire,” an epic in the vein of classic Maiden, also runs a touch too long, but manages to entertain for most of its seven-minute runtime. While Iron Kingdom don’t tread any new ground, Shadows and Dust nonetheless offers plenty of fun without any major missteps.

The Iron Kingdom has proved to be a worthy and fun place to visit. It’s far less expensive than the budget-breaking Magic Kingdom and far less brutal than the Steel Kingdom.1 Sure you can go back and spin classics like Keeper of the Seven Keys a whole bunch, but it’s also fun to hear some fresh songs in the genre from newer bands who know how to write a good lick or two. While the summer is so far shaping up to be another hot one, Shadows and Dust provides the perfect soundtrack to beat the heat. It’s that cool.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released (NA) / Steel Shark Records (EU)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Ian Pooley, Afrique Like Me, Pursuit Grooves, and Olive T deliver remixes for Tush's Heavy Weather Remixed EP. #music #tush #heavyweather #remixed #ianpooley #AfriqueLikeMe #pursuitgrooves #olivet #selfreleased

https://evl.one/heavy-weather-remixed-by-tush

Following the success of his infectious blue-eyed soul track Spinning Around, Belgian artist Kristo returns with new singles Hopelessly Devoted and Eternal Love. #music #kristo #hopelesslydevoted #EternalLove #selfreleased

https://evl.one/hopelessly-devoted-eternal-love-by-kristo

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer, Vittra, Buried Realm, Aversed, and others. Given that many of melodeth’s top tier releases came out in the back half of last year, there’s no cause for alarm yet, but with the exception of At the Gates’ opus The Ghost of a Future Dead, I can’t help feeling 2026 is off to a slow start.1 Throwing down the gauntlet with Old Gods Awaken, Vancouver collective Atavistia stakes their claim on this year’s melodeath throne. In his review of Cosmic Warfare, Doom_et_al noted that Atavistia made meaningful strides in songwriting since The Winter Way, but that plenty of room exists to further define an identity outside of Wintersun’s shadow. With the spotlight shining on folk metal influences throughout Old Gods Awaken, can Atavistia maintain their velocity after Cosmic Warfare, or would it have been better to let sleeping gods lie?

For anyone who’s read about Atavistia at AMG before, you know there’s one band whose temple even these Old Gods pray at.2 If you expected that to change, shame on you. With their most flagrant foray into folk metal to date, Atavistia doubles down on Wintersun worship with Old Gods Awaken while succumbing to a feverish case of Ensiferumania. On the surface, this may sound like Atavistia regressing back towards The Winter Way, but instead the band continues to refine the overwrought compositions that Doomy dinged in that review and delivers a succinct forty-three minutes of symphonic melodeath. And though Wintersun and Ensiferum cast the longest shadows, shades of Children of Bodom and Kalmah broaden Old Gods Awaken’s footprint and enrich its well of influences.

Despite Atavistia’s new musical folk-us and turning over half the band since Cosmic Warfare, they submit well-conceived orchestrations and tight performances throughout Old Gods Awaken. Specifically, Atavistia bade farewell to guitarist Dalton Meaden and bassist D’wayne Murray in 2024, welcoming Elia Baghbaniyan and Spencer Budworth in their stead. The quality of instrumentation remains consistent with previous albums, where guitars and synths steal the show as they trade earwormy melodic lines (“Mystic Tavern,” “I Skogens Djup”) that lead into heartfelt solos (“Goddess of My Dreams,” “Ride the White Storm”) and stirring, rustic breaks (“To a New World”). The haunting choirs on Cosmic Warfare have also been replaced by viking gang chants, which makes sense stylistically, but loses some of the flair that helped the former stand out. Longtime drummer Max Sepulveda lays down a commendable performance as well, spicing songs up with well-crafted fills that never overpower Old Gods Awaken’s dense compositions. Besides contributing guitar and supplying his best vocal performance to date, Atavistia ringleader Matt Sippola weaves together a rousing album that stands beside its inspirations.

While Atavistia successfully plunges headlong into folk, the move erodes some of the identity they established previously. Tracks on Cosmic Warfare recalled Wintersun, but just as much reminded me of Brymir and the choral arrangements in The Phantom Menace. Old Gods Awaken forsakes these subtle nods, and though that isn’t bad on its own, the Ensiferum influence is a safer path that deteriorates some of Atavistia’s idiosyncrasies. Additionally, some of the melodies and song structures on Old Gods Awaken blur together. “Mystic Tavern,” “Seeker of Time,” and “Goddess of My Dreams”3 all have similar-sounding leads, and the first two also have somewhat predictable compositions that stand out since the songs are back-to-back, particularly in terms of pacing and the timing of more subdued moments. Ultimately, these are minor complaints on very well-executed material, but diversifying the song structures could unveil even greater heights.

Old Gods Awaken subverts my expectations of what I thought a new Atavistia record would sound like, and even though they lean into a well-defined arena, they do so capably. Monster hooks and intricate, engaging arrangements keep the replay value of Old Gods Awaken tantalizingly high, especially with tight songwriting across the album. I’m curious where Atavistia goes next, as there’s no clear indication of what direction they’ll take. Whatever it is, the persistent urge to evolve their songcraft proves Atavistia will make it interesting and fun, and that every once in a while, you can teach Old Gods new tricks.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

In a year that’s seen At the Gates release a seminal album that stands not only as a career touchstone but as a fitting swansong for Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg, the bar for Swedish melodic death metal is pretty high in 2026. This fact, however, did not deter Trollhättan’s fledgling act, Abandon Agony, from entering The Jester Race to flex some Gothenburg muscle of their own. Assembled in 2023, Abandon Agony released their first music a year later on the Dark Matter EP, and are now ready to unveil their debut long-player, Endbringer. As a group of relative unknowns, free from the confines of expectation that comes with an established amount of pedigree, Abandon Agony have gambled on themselves, choosing to release Endbringer independently. Will Endbringer signal the start of a long and successful career for Abandon Agony, or will it serve as a cautionary tale, relaying the slaughter of yet another up-and-coming melo-death soul?

Abandon Agony do melodic death metal really well. Endbringer passes everything that makes In Flames and Dark Tranquility exciting through a Mors Principium Estuary of modern, thrashy, power-melodic slickery before hitting open waters teeming with Amon Amarthic life.1 Guitarists Tobias Järvelä and Christoffer Tönnäng2 have the Gothenburg sound nailed down, their dual guitar assault wrecking necks, employing all the expected tropes: galloping, moody riffs, emotive, hooky leads, and tons of great solo work. Like the arms of Endbringer’s reaper slowly opening, the folds of his robe unfurl, inviting us in with the majestic power chords of album opener, “The Truth,” which then crank up a notch to catch Robin Toresson’s speedy double-bass rolls. Johan Hedström’s excellent vocals—a hybrid of Johan Hegg (Amon Amarth) and Randy Blythe (LoG)—fade in from a rumbling growl to a scream that’s met by some of Tönnäng’s nifty solo work and the song’s first fleet-footed verse; Endbringer is up and running. This track embodies everything about the Abandon Agony experience, which is one that offsets powerful, deathly aggression with atmospheric and melodic subtlety.

Endbringer is a potent, hard-driving melodeath album crammed with talented performances, all its poignant beauty revealed through the ghostly wisps of nuance rather than any overt melodic device. Whether it’s a hint of keys here (“The Truth”), the ghost of crystalline guitars there (“Dissolved”), or actual cleans that are both credited—Liv Jagrell’s (Liv Sin) gritty vocals are a great counterpoint to Hedström’s roars on album highlight “Entropy”—and uncredited (“Blind Intentions,” “Polar Shift”), these barely-there accompaniments serve to elevate many of Endbringer’s masterful moments. And it’s this beauty-and-the-beast balancing act that works so perfectly in Abandon Agony’s favor, drawing the listener deeper into Endbringer’s world without devolving into overwrought symphonia. Tönnäng’s excellent guitar work shines; his leads, ranging from the neo-classical (“Blind Intentions”) to the melancholy (“Lunar Storm”), acoustic work (“Rise From the Ashes,” “Polar Shift”), and wonderful solos (insert pretty much any song here), unleash a depth of emotion that enhances Endbringer’s heavy edge.3 And as vocalists go, Hedström’s growls and screams have fast become some of my favorite, period; a far cry from the shaky cleans he employs in his power metal project, Memoria.4

What pains me most, however, is that Abandon Agony have managed to run afoul of one of my biggest pet peeves, which is to pack half of Endbringer with songs that were originally released nearly two years ago.5 As annoying as it is to consider Abandon Agony have essentially mashed a couple of EPs’ worth of tunes together, I must still admit the level of continuity between the two sets of songs bridges an impressive gap in time rather seamlessly. Beyond this fact, though, my only real critique of Endbringer falls on its modern production, which renders nearly all Jonathan Wagerland’s bass work inaudible.

Outside the context of my petty-est of peeves, Abandon Agony have released a damn fine melodeath album in Endbringer. Had they chosen to release an EP of five new songs rather than combining everything, not only might I have missed out on Abandon Agony for an even longer amount of time, but I certainly wouldn’t have put them on anyone’s radar here. As it stands, readers, take note, for another Gothenburg titan has arrived, and by the seeing eye of the great Whoracle herself, you can bet your ass I’ll be watching closely for what comes next.

Rating: 3.56/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 22, 2026

Psyclops—Portland, Oregon’s progressive metal genre-benders—have some nerve coming my way. I know in my heart of hearts that in writing “their” new record, Bound to Burn: Melody of the Martyr, they committed psychic plagiarism against me and stole the progressive death metal concept album I outlined years ago. A sun-baked Earth struggling to survive? My set-up! A wanderer searching for hope and imbued with religious allusion? My protagonist! A chance encounter with a water deity that brings them to a wellspring of pure, untouched water? More or less my idea! Psyclops just cut out my cannibal gangs and digs against Elon Musk, the hacks. Admittedly, they commissioned a comic book to coincide with Bound to Burn, which I didn’t think of…but very well could’ve!1 I was just waiting to get good at music before recording it, you bastards!2 But in this egregious act of unmitigated gall, does Psyclops’ Bound to Burn rip me off effectively and enjoyably, at least?

Psyclops just make prog look easy on Bound to Burn: Melody of the Martyr. Taking a page from the Rush playbook, Psyclops play technically demanding and rhythmically dense progressive music in the vein of Between the Buried and Me and Opeth while keeping their songs mostly immediate and accessible. The three-song “Consequences” segue sees Psyclops bouncing between odd, frantic rhythms while sounding as natural as if it were all 4/4, while the “Manifest” trilogy showcases Bound to Burn’s most diverse guitarwork that dazzles without devolving into wankery. “Presence from Beyond” and “Clarity” see awkward vocal intervals and off-kilter riffing, respectively, that make for effortless earworms, and “Begin Anew”‘s guitar arpeggios sound symphonic in a very understated way while rocking out in an uncomplicated fashion. Further, Psyclops swing with some heft with juiced-up, low-end heavy riffing and punchy drums highlighted on the “Indomitable” segue and a crushing death vocal presence established in opener “The Explorer-Errant.” Heavy and catchy, technical and immediate, Bound to Burn is bound to please most any prog fan.

Psyclops’ knack for lean, diverse songwriting brings home the bacon. At thirty-three minutes, Bound to Burn has a story to tell and Psyclops hustle between movements and songs without wasting time on interludes or masturbatory noodling. Crystalline, clean, and plodding doom guitars on “The Explorer-Errant” give way to jagged, Xoth-like riffs and solos on “Consequences I. The Instinct to Survive,” while “Manifest I. Seeing Is Believing” opens the segue with Devin Townsend-like harmonies and progression, only to close out with “Manifest III. The Ouroboros Chorus”‘s Thank You Scientist swinging prog goofiness. The spirit of Mastodon haunts a lot of Bound to Burn as well, particularly in the moody, Crack the Skye-like trippiness of “Presence from Beyond” and the Emperor of Sandesque rock soloing closing out “Manifest II. Warranted Transgression.” Psyclops package all of these influences, moods, and approaches in a way that feels totally cohesive and trimmed of all excess. Bound to Burn is here for a good time, not a long one.

With Bound to Burn: Melody of the Martyr, Psyclops constructed the Anti-Playlist Album. Singled out, individual tracks on Bound to Burn don’t hold up, bearing truncated runtimes and rarely sounding whole alone. But taken altogether, Psyclop’s singular vision comes through. Bound to Burn establishes character motivation quickly and effectively with “The Explorer-Errant,” conflict soon after with “Consequences II” and “III,” and a call to action with “Clarity” that carries Bound to Burn’s plot smoothly right to the end. “Manifest III” and “Begin Anew” feel somewhat rushed in closing the album, and Psyclops could’ve spent more time in those songs to drive it home, but that’s Bound to Burn’s only pacing hiccup. Song transitions are completely seamless on Bound to Burn; with how natural every movement flows into the next, Psyclops could have designated the whole thing as one song, à la Crimson or Winter’s Gate. Simply, Bound to Burn cannot be appreciated or enjoyed fully without being taken in as a whole, and Psyclops facilitates that fact with perfect narrative flow and sequencing.

Psyclops are on my ever-expanding shit list, not because they stole my album but because they did it better than me. Way better. Bound to Burn: Melody of the Martyr is an adventurous, refreshing, and forward-thinking work of music and fiction sure to please prog fans of every stripe. Psyclops hit quick, hit hard, and left me wanting more in the end. Bound to Burn isn’t perfect, but there’s very little to complain about either. But the sequel better have some cannibal gangs.3

Rating: Great
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Websites: psyclopsmusic.com | psyclopspdx.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/psyclopspdx
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026