While I may be a product of the 80s, I have almost zero direct recollection of the decade itself. Born in 1985, I didn’t become self aware until the 90s.1 So, essentially, by the time I could form long-lasting memories, most of the world’s great music had already been written. Perhaps my inaccessible 80s origins explain why I am drawn to things from and about the era. The bizarre color schemes, the bombastic musical aesthetic, the cheesy-yet-awesome cinema, all of it gives me a satisfyingly melancholic sense of nostalgia. The 80s feel like my own personal primordial, mythological paradise, a Garden of Eden to which I can never return. The gate is eternally guarded by a cherub wielding a flaming sword, but thanks to bands like Rave in Fire, I need not risk being divinely smote in order to feel like I’m back in the garden, all innocent, naked, and happy.

Just one look at that glorious album cover should tell you that Spain’s Rave in Fire oozes 80s glory. Lead single “Still Standing” sounds like it rode a tiger straight outta Ronnie James Dio’s mind with its driving groove, intricate guitar leads, and the effortlessly powerful vocals of singer Sele. The track is so 80s that it would fit perfectly over the top of a Rocky IV fight scene or training montage (one of my primary measuring sticks for quality 80s music, I might add).

Square One by Rave In Fire

If metal was doing something cool in the 1980s, it’s a good bet that Rave in Fire does it too. “Witches’ Hell” captures the swagger of peak Scorpions, the instrumental opener and its successor scream Screaming-era Judas Priest, and “Untiring Eagles” and “Speed and Rave” sound like Megadeth from an alternate reality, one where Dave Mustaine is female and can actually sing. The closing title track displays the band’s more ambitious aims, mixing all of the above-mentioned influences with progressive rock a la Rush and/or Kansas. Overall, Rave in Fire does everything they do with so much competence and authenticity that they’re hard not to love.

My only real nitpick with Square One involves the transition from the “The Hellion”-esque opener into first proper track “Dark Poison.” The switch just doesn’t match up very well, so much so that I checked multiple times to make sure I hadn’t unwittingly messed up the track order. It’s a fairly minor flaw in the grand scheme of a 42-minute album, but it’s jarring each time nonetheless. Instrumentally, Rave in Fire is stacked with talent. Guitarist Jonjo puts on a classic metal/rock clinic, and the rhythm section (Sara on bass and Jimi on drums) displays impressive chemistry. But the MVP trophy goes to vocalist Sele. Her passionate performance is just spectacular, sounding so unbelievably genuine and lending Square One a pleasing patina of seemingly long-lost classic status, and, fortunately, the beautiful production only enhances the luster of that patina.

When I picked Square One out of the promo sump, I’d just finished Stranger Things and was yearning to fill that 80s-shaped hole in my heart. After spinning this dozens of times, I can confidently say that Rave in Fire has done just that. This band is loaded with talent, and I expect more very good albums from them in the future.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: High Roller Records
Websites: raveinfire.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/raveinfire
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

The first review of the year always brings a strange sensation. After a long year of reviewing great, good, meh, and fucking terrible records, it gets even longer come November/December with list season. The amount of work increases more than ever as you write your blurbs, edit others, and constantly monitor comments by those who wrongfully disagree with you. After list season comes to an end, there’s an involuntary sigh of relief that all the work got done, and while a lot of the lists were shit, stylistically and format-wise, they looked good. But the first review of the year is a different kind of sigh. Not one of relief but one of “here we go again.” So, with my knuckles cracked and promo downloaded, I dive into Spanish thrashers, Furi Helium, and their sophomore outing, No Altar Stands Eternal.

I’m not gonna lie, I absolutely picked this promo because of the band name. Ignoring spelling and pronunciation, the thought of “furry helium” is fucking hilarious to me. As I rolled around on the floor, with kids and cats alike watching in bewildered horror, it was brought to my attention that “furi helium” can be translated to “black sun” in Latin. Fine. Take all the fun out of my life. But, after my initial spins, I came to appreciate this little gem because Furi Helium is much in the vein of Spanish brethren (and one of my favorite thrashers), Crisix.1 So, instead of imagining furry gases that give you a high-pitched voice and furballs, I’m pummeled with crushing riffs, punchy gangshouts, memorable choruses, and a bass presence deserving of better production. Which, I suppose, I can accept.

No Altar Stands Eternal by Furi Helium

Like many of the other neothrash outfits these days, the opening track, “Bloodspiller,” launches into a simplistic approach that sets the tone for the album. But it isn’t until a couple of songs later that No Altar Stands Eternal really takes off. “Criminals” introduces some nifty guitar work and a charging attitude. From there, it alternates between a galloping riff and one of the more memorable choruses on the album. At the album’s midpoint, the back-to-back “Tidal Disruption” and “Fall in Disgrace” rule the roost. While both have killer riffs throughout, what makes these songs so special is the massive bass presence. While it’s been there up to this point, it’s dialed up to eleven, and the performance is stellar. “Tidal Disruption,” in particular, is a banger. It features punchy vocals that perfectly match each drum hit, plenty of melodic At the Gates vibes, and the standout chorus on the record.

Others worth mentioning are “12 Mirrors” and the closer, “The Chronophage.” The first is up there with songs like “Tidal Disruption,” laying to waste anything in its way with a kickass thrash groove and gnarly fucking vocals. It’s a monster mash of Crisix attitude and riffs that get better as they go. The closer is the black sheep of the record, loaded with a thick layer of melodic laquer and dark, swirling atmospheres. It also gives off a lot of The Haunted vibes—growing and falling along a path of thick riffs and soothing movements—producing a near-perfect ending to this sophomore effort.

The main issues I have with No Altar Stands Eternal are that it takes a bit to get going, and the production is not worthy of the skill. While the first handful of songs are worth a listen, by the time you get to “Criminals” (the fourth track on the album), the album really begins to blossom into something special. From there, it’s nonstop satisfaction. I only bring this up because some might bail before the good stuff emerges, and that would be a terrible mistake. While the production isn’t bad, it only bothers me because the nooks and crannies are what I’m most interested in. Whenever the bass controls a song’s flow, it feels dialed up to accommodate it. Otherwise, it sits comfortably in the background. With a dynamic master that can breathe and throb with all the intricacies throughout, we might experience the bass and other subtleties as intended. So, someone sign these sons of bitches and give them money for a higher-quality product. All that to say, I really enjoy this record and shall be jamming to it for months to come.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: furihelium.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/furihelium
Releases Worldwide: January 22nd, 2026

Spanish metalcore/melodeath quintet Unexpectance lived up to their name when I encountered them for the first time in 2022, boasting a remarkably meaty and riff-packed assault on their sophomore effort Vortex. After recruiting a new drummer, a new vocalist, and a new lead guitarist, their upcoming salvo Solus Ipse threatens to sound quite a bit different, despite tapping similar Dante-centric philosophical wells for its theme. This potential shift didn’t hamper my interest, however, as their chunky, groovy songwriting held up quite well over time. Considering Unexpectance’s rhythm guitarist and bassist both carry over from the last lineup, I have no reason to believe that solid backbone incurred any serious injury.

The same can’t be said for my backbone, after spending some quality time with Solus Ipse. These Spaniards still understand what it means to groove, and groove hard. While Solus Ipse certainly leans heavier into the metalcore side of Unexpectance’s sound, perhaps to its detriment especially in regards to the new higher register screams, Unexpectance still know their way around hooks, riffs, and momentum. Reeking of Orbit Culture restlessness, Aeternam-esque melodicism and verve, and embellished by ominous trem-picked leads—some of which, oddly enough, resemble those singled out refrains which made Unfathomable Ruination’s Finitude so compelling (“Hybris”)—Solus Ipse’s sycopated patterns and chunky stop-starts play companion to blistering barrages of double-bass-backed ballistics. Sealing the deal, and representing my favorite aspect of Unexpectance’s sound, the entire record is presented in Spanish, with nary a syllable of English to mar the experience. I may not understand what I’m hearing nearly as well (yet), but the effectiveness of Spanish’s cadence and character in this context is undeniable.

I also can’t deny Unexpectance’s ability to craft dynamic, crunchy, and satisfying tunes when all the pieces fall into place. Especially in the back half, Solus Ipse is a clinic in effervescent energy, crushing riffs, and rabid pacing (“Netamorpha,” “Ethos,” “Samsara,” and “Hybris”). In fact, I’d say these three attributes are Solus Ipse’s core strengths, as early highlights “Momji,” “Ataraxia,” and “Gnosis” successfully conjure the same neck-snapping momentum. Those early cuts communicate that momentum through more overt metalcore language, whereas the back end swings the pendulum a little closer to boisterous melodic death metal (“Empíreo”). Through it all, Unexpectance’s lead guitar steals the show, brilliantly weaving melodies in and out of bulky riffs and chuggy breakdowns as if they weren’t obstacles to evade, but rather partners to unite in a destructive dance (“Momji,” “Gnosis,” “Ethos,” “Hybris”).

Unexpectance’s ability to walk a tightrope between similar, but distinct, styles showcases their maturity and versatility as writers, but Solus Ipse as a whole isn’t as strong as previous efforts. The primary aspect that gets in my way of enjoying this entertaining back and forth more are, unfortunately, the vocals. I miss the greater dominance of deeper growls and mid-pitch roars that pervaded Vortex. While they feature here frequently, those higher-pitched screams—while admirably performed and brimming with piss and vinegar—feel not just more prevalent, but also much more monotonous, and thereby create a fair amount of drag. In other areas, Solus Ipse is a touch more repetitive and less cohesive, rhythmically speaking, compared to the never-ending cavalcade of twists and tempos that Vortex effortlessly wrangled. Most easily heard in opening duo, “Sophrosyne” and “Momji,” this kind of weak point forces the impression that I must choose between options to either keep or discard on future spins. I would much rather feel compelled to adopt every track.

Following up a contender like Vortex always posed a daunting proposition. Considering the various lineup changes and the 4-year gap between releases, what Solus Ipse accomplishes is admirable. Unexpectance remains an act to watch, as they routinely offer songwriting that either moves the needle for the style or holds great potential to do so with a little more massaging. A ton of great ideas populate Solus Ipse, but the overall product lacks the same consistent hype-worthy quality of the previous installment. Still, it’s worth checking out at least once, even if you aren’t necessarily a fan of the style.



Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self Released
Websites: unexpectance.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/unexpectance
Releases Worldwide: January 15th, 2026

Occasionally, pet projects and casual fun bands can take a very long time to gestate into something more serious and tangible. Spain’s Battering Ram has had quite a long journey to get to their self-released debut album Time Masters, starting from their formation in 2008 and their demos in the early 2010s.1 Over this time period, their ambitions have also grown. Evolved from just another thrash metal band, Time Masters is a sci-fi concept album looking to fuse epic heavy and power metal with technical thrash metal. How successful is Battering Ram in their goal?

Battering Ram’s fun sound leans more towards the heavy/power metal side than the thrash side. The riffage of Guillermo Marqués definitely borrows a lot from all of the above, though. The drumming of Benjamín Mateo has plenty of classic Watchtower influence here, alongside more classic fun thrash like Anthrax. Complementing the thrashy bits are heavy/power bands like Manowar and HammerFall. Tracks like “Immortality Fed by Death” show some thrashy bite, alongside some fat killer bass by Francisco Cabañas. The 10-minute almost-opener “Unexpected Events (The Beginning of the End)” is a bold choice, but it ends up panning out well.

Thrash and power metal both perform best at high velocity, and most of Time Masters has too little of it. The second half of the album picks things up with cuts like “Immortality Fed by Death (Unstoppable Train),” but they’re not quite strong enough to carry the entire album. The double interlude towards the end of the album is also a baffling decision, interrupting the flow between the album’s three strongest tracks. The bonus track being a base track (penultimate track, instead of the weird double interlude?) would’ve also directly upgraded the experience and album flow. The riff work is good and multifaceted, though, and the drums are very fun to listen to as well, providing lots of cool patterns and fills here and there. The instrumentation is really cool, but the vocals definitely need more work. David Ordás sings well on tracks like “Immortality Fed by Death,” but his performance is inconsistent throughout the album. They lack energy and range on tracks like 3 and 4. However, they do also improve as the album goes along (tracks 6, 7).

Despite its drawbacks, there are plenty of good pieces on Time Masters to work with. The guitars, drums, and bass all sound great and have great players behind them. The riffs are fun and have enough variety for the material, and the bass, in particular, in the first half of the album, is cranked loud and plays some really fun lines. There’s definitely a 3.0/Good! hidden in here, but the vocal inconsistencies, slight bloat, and general sluggish pace all unfortunately drag it down too much. The advantages do not outweigh the disadvantages, but the good things here are still very much visible. If you removed “The Persecuted (Back Again)” and both of the unwieldy two-in-a-row interludes (“The Prophecy,” “Armageddon Wars”), and added the CD bonus track “Wormhole (Dreaming Eutocia)” as the penultimate track, this would be a tight and fun album to replay.

Battering Ram has some good ideas, but throws too many things at the wall at the same time. If they can speed things up, improve the vocals, and tighten their songwriting in general, these guys can definitely have a good follow-up in store. As is, the album has a fun concept with some strong ideas, but it flows very unevenly. Running a tighter 40-minute ship, improving the production, and leveling up the vocals will go a long way. Time Masters is a rough but riffy proof of concept. With some ironing, Battering Ram is well on their way towards creating a fun power/thrash blend.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Facebook | Instagram | YouTube
Releases Worldwide: January 10th, 2026

Sepulchral – Beneath the Shroud Review

By Steel Druhm

I’m not at all well-versed on the Spanish death metal scene, but the descriptions for Sepulchral’s sophomore opus Beneath the Shroud intrigued me sufficiently to take a cautious flyer on them for a December review. End-of-year promo offerings are always a mötley stew of rejects, wannabes, never-weres, tricksy re-releases, and lo-fi basement black metal albums set to release on Christmas day, so I didn’t expect much. What I got was something interesting indeed. Sepulchral rock a very old school death metal approach with a prominent blackened streak that sometimes takes center stage. There are nods to early Entombed and the punkier Autopsy releases, and more than a little similarity to proto-black metal bands like Bathory and early Sodom. The resulting racket is brutish, slack-jawed, entertaining, and certainly nostalgia-inducing for olde heads like Yours Steely. This is pure throwback glory, and it isn’t going to move any needles forward, but it sure tries to bend them backward.

After a refined and tasteful instrumental intro, Sepulchral come out with a greasy, filthy bang on the title track, which splits the baby between d-beat-heavy Swedeath and Bathory’s immortal second album, The Return. It’s retro-as-fook, but endearing as all get out. Vocals are like early days Quothorn mixed with Autopsy’s Chris Reifert, and the frantic, bouncy riffs will remind the aged metalhead of any number of 80s proto-death and proto-metal acts. At its core, it’s just a fun, over-the-top dose of thrashy, punky death with swagger and charm. “Abandoned Feretrum” is a macap, thrashing, tantrum of a tune with awkward, stuttering riffs that bulldoze everything and everyone into a muddy mass grave as crazed vocals babble, croak, and vomit forth nonsense. I loved this one immediately and I just keep playing it. Those simple caveman power chugs that pop up are pure gainz fuel for gym time. With the basic template thus set, Sepulchral proceed to blast, hammer, smoosh, and squish you with slight variations of it over the next 35 minutes.

This very singular approach works great on “Conflagration of Sacred Bones” and the remorseless wargrinder that is “Cloaked Spectres,” which feels unstoppable due to its penchant for big, dumb, power chugs. Slower selections like “From the Crypt, the Putrid Mist” remind of long-buried 80s proto-black metallers N.M.E., due to that clonky bass sound.1 “Gravestone Covenant” is a rumbling, brain-crushing Panzer of a song that annihilates everything in its path, and “Poison Wind” is an unabated beat down, brainless and bloodthirsty. As fun as the core Sepulchral sound is, they can run into issues when they stretch songs out and try for different moods. “Torchless Crossroads” is good, but it attempts to mellow things out too much on the back-end, creating a dull, dead space that doesn’t add any real atmosphere. “Gravestone Covenant” opts for a doomy wind-out but pulls it off better, though it would be better if it were left off entirely. Another issue is the tendency for the songs to all bleed together into an agitated, writhing mush. It’s a fun one to be sure, but it does feel like a lot of the same hash and beans by the time the album wraps.

Guitarist “Gorka” digs deep into the 80s for inspiration, offering a rabid, rotten collection of riffs that sound like they were culled from the first few Bathory albums and then dumped into an Entombed-ifier filter, only to be abandoned in a public toilet with Autopsy’s Shitfun. It’s moldy, and the stench is formidable, but 90% of the fun here is generated by the frantic, unceasing riffage and chuggery. And boy, those power chugs drain IQ points at a startling rate, but I can’t get enough of them. “Gaueko” provides gruesome vocals that sit exactly between death and black metal and are often no more than a raw bark or croak. His penchant for adding frequent vomit and spewing noises as accents is a plus, and he’s a reliable narrator for the horrors Sepulchral describes. His thumping, thudding bass-work is a boon as well, bubbling away in the background and foreground as needed.

Venturing Beneath the Shroud reveals something nasty, profane, and grotesque that cannot be unheard. It’s more fun than expected, though there are noticeable warts, boils, and blemishes along the way. Sepulchral may never end up a household name outside of their area of influence, but they have something cool going on with this mega-retro sound. If you appreciate the early days of extreme metal, take a whiff of this piece of offal.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Soulseller Records
Websites: sepulchraldeathmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/sepulchraldeathmetal | instagram.com/sepulchral.osdm
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #autopsy #bathory #beneathTheShroud #deathMetal #dec25 #entombed #nME #review #reviews #sepulchral #sodom #soulsellerRecords #spanishMetal

Antinoë – The Fold Review

By Tyme

As the whispering winds of winter begin to blow colder through my neck of the woods, a time of year when fires get cozier, quaffed beers get darker, and we here at AMG begin to rhapsodize on things missed and regale readers with things listed, I found myself still searching for a near-end-of-year something new. When I saw Antinoë’s Dark Essence Records debut, The Fold, blurbily described as ‘Neoclassical Folk meets melancholy Pop with a Metal attitude,’ I was intrigued. Descending from the mountains of Madrid, Antinoë is the passion project of pianist and vocalist Teresa Marraco. Launched in 2021, Antinoë’s 2023 release, Whispers from the Dark Past, offered a unique piano tribute to the 90s Norwegian black metal scene, with Marraco covering everything from Emperor’s “I Am the Black Wizards” to Mayhem’s “Life Eternal” and Dimmu Borgir’s “Mourning Palace.”1 Poised to challenge the very fluid boundaries of what metal can be, let’s see if The Fold has the warmth necessary to keep those wintery winds at bay.

Void of instrumental trappings associated with most traditional metal, Antinoë relies solely on Marraco’s beautifully resonant voice and her expansive piano compositions to weave stygian tapestries. Conceptually, The Fold navigates the odyssey of accepting death, inviting listeners to tread a path through the idiomatic depths of grief’s different stages, as it traces the process of ‘folding inward.’ From the outset, as cricket-song fades into “Night Falls,” with its delicately crafted, darkly haunting piano melody and celestial vocals, the track pulls at melancholy heartstrings, drawing you into Antinoë’s dark world and setting the stage for what’s to come. The Fold offers an immersive, piano-led experience, peppered with pummeled ivories that shift with metallic force beneath sustained choral harmonies (“The Devil’s Voice”), as wispy trails of folky, Enya-esque ambiance waft amid airy, Dead Can Dance-like atmospheres (“Når Du Dør”). Not unlike Darkher, Antinoë succeeds at tapping into inscrutable emotion by minimalist means, but where Maiven casts spells webbed in doom, Marraco’s magic leans more toward the black arts.

While Antinoë draws much of its ‘metal’ from lyrical themes that explore the dense nature of grief and death, that doesn’t mean The Fold is musically bereft of heavier fare. Death angels descend on Emperor wings with halos of Dimmu Borgir to hover over the opening chords of “Threshold,” heralding dark omens in a chorus of swarming harmonies, witchy laughter, and raspy breaths, all as Antinoë pounds and trills her way through octaves in true symphonic black metal fashion.2 Is it still just a girl and her piano? Yes, but it’s by far the ‘heaviest’ song on the album. Which gives way to the excellently murky pop of “Chaos in the Sky,” another album highlight that had my neck snapped to rapt attention when Marracos, in her smoky voice, opened with “Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck am I?” like some dark-alt Adele, creating another moment more metal than not.

Drenched in warmth, The Fold’s production captures the beauty of Antinoë’s neo-classical elegance and marries it perfectly to its atmospherically blackened weight, providing a full-on musical experience. Whether it’s the delicate last minute of “The Devil’s Voice,” which flirts with a “Lágnætti” melody, off the Sólstafir magnum opus Ottá, or the inquisitive, childlike mystery of the whispers and keys on “Flock,” to the somber dirge of vocals from “Light Bringer,” listening to Antinoë is to become utterly immersed. I have little to critique, so enamored am I by Antinoë’s ability to impart complex ideas in the simplest of terms. I suppose there’s a minute or two that Marraco could have shaved from the two instrumentals, but in all honesty, there’s not a minute of The Fold that I would cut or change.

One of the things I’ve always appreciated about AMG is its fearlessness in shedding light on bands that are categorically not metal. Case in point, among many, is Dolphin Whisperer’s review of Maud the Moth’s excellent The Distaff this year. Antinoë has recorded an emotional album for healing hearts, and as I look back on the last few years of losses I’ve experienced, I’m unsurprised by how impactful it’s been to me. I wasn’t expecting something of this caliber to come sweeping in so close to list season, but here we are. I’ll gladly wrap myself in a warm blanket next to a cozy fire, slip on my favorite pair of headphones, and sip a smoky porter while letting The Fold envelop me against the impending winter’s chill.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #40 #ambient #antinoe #darkher #deadCanDance #dimmuBorgir #emperor #enya #notMetal #nov25 #piano #review #spanishMetal #theFold

Sun of the Dying – A Throne of Ashes Review

By Thus Spoke

Autumn is well and truly here, so it’s about time I reviewed some doom. Though my ears have been diverted towards certain listworthy death/black drops these past few weeks, the pull of the gloom grows stronger in proportion with the shortening of the days. But rather than the icy climes of Scandinavia, or wintry North America, or even rainy old England, my long-awaited dose of darkness came from Spain. In less than three-quarters of an hour, Madrid’s Sun of the Dying proved that you don’t need miserable, cold weather to make music about misery. A Throne of Ashes, the group’s third LP, is a bold, strong, and stirring mélange of death-doom styles that both filled the void in my musical life and made me downright embarrassed not to have listened to them before.

Sun of the Dying borrow from across the spectrum to craft their compositions, creating richly layered soundscapes. Gracing soaring melodies with dolorous piano, they channel Swallow the Sun on the highs, and Endonomos on the lows. Sweetly sad strings and soft singing recall My Dying Bride, and a duet over warm, vibrating chords and resonant atmosphere Draconian.1 But all this familiarity detracts not one iota from the authenticity of A Throne of Ashes; if anything, it makes it easier to love. By combining the best aspects of these influences with a heavy dose of character, Sun of the Dying make them their own, constructing a powerful whole that simply oozes feeling and personality.

As an indicator of how well A Throne of Ashes communicates emotion by way of staggering death-doom, it contains not just one, but two Song-o-the-year list contenders. Contender one, opener “Martyrs,” had me sitting back in my chair completely still, to give it my full attention. Its graceful dynamism between uplifting guitars and hushed cymbal, narrated by Eduardo Guilló’s beautiful singing and untempered roars, is matched for pathos only by fellow highlight “House of Asterion.” The latter leans into the orchestral more heavily, accenting melancholy descents with ever more dramatic flourishes of strings in a way designed to stamp them into the listener’s heart. These two exemplify Sun of the Dying’s knack for creating depth of feeling and composition with careful weaving of delicacy and sturdiness— the mark of all great doom. As refrains pass between piano, synths, and guitar, they wax, wane, and build gracefully. Spacious resonance over which solo piano (“With Wings Aflame,” “Of Absence”) or strumming, or the sounds of someone sobbing (“Of Absence”) float over and bleed into, prefigures or breaks the gradual escalation into screaming strings (“The House of Asterion”), or white-hot tremolo (“Martyrs”), or the blows of shuddering riff and cymbal (“The Longest Winter,” “Of Absence”). The fullness of even the quieter moments, with bittersweet melodies detailed with touches of choir and orchestrals and multi-tracked vocals and the warm heartbeat of percussion, makes the experience powerfully immersive, heightening the climaxes and deepening the nadirs.

So strong is Sun of the Dying’s ability to draw its listener in and wring their heart out that one almost forgives their occasional structural missteps. Advance track “Black Birds Beneath Your Sky” is a crushing slab of comparatively aggressive doom-death whose string-swelling, group-sung chorus yet exemplifies most explicitly the anthemic feel that other songs hint at. It’s a good song—particularly in its more soaring second act—but it sits awkwardly between the mournful “Martyrs” and “With Wings Aflame,” suddenly brushing aside the rapturous mist of sadness only for it to descend again right after. Its mood-breaking grit is echoed, albeit faintly, by “The Greatest Winter,”‘s more grey and stolid riffing, and there’s the quiet sensation that the pair don’t quite belong with their more sombre companions. Without them, however, the album would be very short, and so rather than removing them, their use of dark and light, soft and heavy elements might simply need to be adjusted.

Even if its atmosphere isn’t perfectly sealed, A Throne of Ashes proves transportive and engrossing all the same. Heartfelt and compelling, it distils an ideal of modern doom and had me scrambling to hear Sun of the Dying’s back catalogue. Don’t let the year end without a walk on a grey day and A Throne of Ashes in your ears.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #35 #aThroneOfAshes #aopRecords #deathDoom #doomMetal #draconian #endonomos #myDyingBride #nov25 #review #reviews #spanishMetal #sunOfTheDying #swallowTheSun

God’s Funeral – El Despertar Dels Morts Review

By Angry Metal Guy

Written By: Nameless_n00b_605

Metal is full of niche genres, and within that sphere, doom metal is full of unique variations. Funeral doom, doom metal’s basement-dwelling offspring, is as impenetrable a metal genre as some of the nastiest bands in the business. Trudging, droning song structures, distorted, bellowing vocals, and (as the genre tag suggests) the vibe of being at a funeral can make for a taxing listen on a good day. Nailing all these individual elements isn’t so much a challenge as a rite of passage, but truly meshing these staples together is a skill few bands possess. God’s Funeral joins the cacophonic dirge on their first LP, El Despertar Dels Morts. Hailing from Tarragona, Spain, can their brand of Catholic-guilt-infused funeral doom make a splash in the cesspool of sadness, or is it merely a teardrop in the bucket of filth?

El Despertar Dels Morts has all the hallmarks of great funeral doom; roomy production offers space for naturalistic string arrangements and atmospheric organ playing. Lead singer Abel nails the classic funeral doom tone, with vocals that sound like they are recorded in the roomy basement of a moldy castle. The riffing from guitarists Naila and Juan is suitably churning and ominous, and Sergi’s drumming fills the deliberate void with hard-hitting playing. The kicker is that God’s Funeral nails production and musicianship, but misses the mark on nearly every level otherwise. From songwriting to editing, and from pacing to variety, El Despertar Dels Morts fumbles at every turn. In a five-track album spanning nearly fifty minutes, it is a struggle to find standout moments in a sea of nearly identical song structures, played-out riffs, and tedious vocals.

Where God’s Funeral bucks trends is in the most unfortunate places. Genre stalwarts like Ahab, DOOM:VS, and Shape of Despair feature similarly deliberate song structures, but break these up with vocal variety, melodic sections, left turns into death metal, and more. God’s Funeral eschews all of that, and the only notable moments of reprieve from the grinding, one-note style on El Despertar Dels Morts are the wonderfully rich-sounding string work that are a staple across the album, an epic organ section at the end of “Ara Que Torna El Silenci,” and the militaristic marching drum intro to “La Processó De Les Ombres.” It is telling that you have to reach for points of interest on this LP; they act like life rafts in a never-ending storm of monotony.

The back half of El Despertar Dels Morts is the strongest part of the album, if only for the fact that the songs stay under ten minutes. These last three tracks at least offer a glimpse at what God’s Funeral could be capable of with a lot more editing. “Fossa Comuna” is the standout track that exemplifies the best of what the band can do. An atmospheric bass intro leads to an actual beat that surpasses the downright sleep-inducing tempo of previous tracks, and the drumming sounds alive for once, finally helping a track rise above the sub-50 bpm droning that drags across the entire LP. While having an album that sounds similar throughout isn’t necessarily a negative, especially when that one song is a ripper, God’s Funeral missed the memo. Telling apart individual tracks on El Despertar Dels Morts is downright challenging. It pains me to be so negative about a band that is invested in their craft and obvious worshippers at the doom altar. God’s Funeral is so close on many levels, but it leans into genre tropes so intensely that they become repellent.

El Despertar Dels Morts is, finally, a monotonous listen that feels more like prepping for bed as opposed to reveling in the big sleep. Funeral doom is slow, it is atmospheric, it is crushing, and God’s Funeral does an admirable job attempting to turn these elements into a cohesive album. But the band draws from the same well too often, leaving El Despertar Dels Morts stylistically empty. In a genre that is already difficult to break into as a band and a listener, God’s Funeral has all the makings of a great addition to the pantheon, but it fails in the most fundamental elements. The band can play well, and the album sounds great from a production standpoint, but the most important part, the songwriting, sags at every turn. Fans of funeral doom may find some choice moments or good background listening with El Despertar Dels Morts, but unless you love the genre, this album won’t change any hearts.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: godsfuneral.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/godsfuneral.band
Releases Worldwide: August 15th, 2025

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Today is song's #radio day for me at #spotify.

The first round begins with #Lujuria - Masoquismo

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