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Epicloud
Liberation

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Transcendence
From the Heart

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Abhorrent Expanse – Enter the Misanthropocene Review

By Dear Hollow

How experimental is too experimental? That’s the question Chicago’s Abhorrent Expanse posits. It’s clear from the title: Enter the Misanthropocene enters to play jazz and fuck shit up, and “Bitches Brew” is on its final notes. When the Lord of the Promo Pit designated the quartet as “death-drone,” I was intrigued and gobbled up rights. It was clear from the jump that Abhorrent Expanse was not the death metal act with a mammoth guitar tone I had hoped, but an improvisational free jazz quartet that decides to do extreme metal sometimes, with death metal, grindcore, and, yes, drone metal making short-lived appearances. Pushing the boundary between extreme lofty experimentation and outright nonsense, Enter the Misanthropocene is a sophomore effort that will take you to an abstract and uncompromising world – or straight to the medicine cabinet for an aspirin.

Abhorrent Expanse has a solid lineup, including caliber from Zebulon Pike, Celestiial, Obsequiae, and The Blight – even if its sound feels entirely convoluted. Following the controversial debut Gateways to Resplendence, Enter the Misanthropocene is largely the same, but its scope is larger, significantly reducing its drone content in favor of jazzy noodling, grind intensity, sprawling ambiance, and deconstructed death metal jaggedness. The drone that exists within is a short-lived sprawl that pops up periodically, giving a more abstract feel than its predecessor’s “dissodeath meeting drone metal in a dark alley behind the Kmart” vibe. Forty-eight minutes of whiplash-inducing tonal and tempo shifts, off-key twanging, random stoner sprawls, and an undeserved love for improv awaits – and I need a nap.

Say it with me: improv is bad. I get the whole avant-garde approach that John Zorn would drool over, that an improvised performance is a “never see it the same way twice” kind of deal, but that doesn’t mean it’s good. As we’ve seen with typically good bands like Neptunian Maximalism or Bunsenburner, relying on group chemistry instead of thoughtful songwriting to create a singular experience hardly pans out – and Enter the Misanthropocene is no exception. Moments of avant-garde clarity in which the instruments align shine in the twitching obscure grind (title track, “Assail the Density Matrix,” “Dissonant Aggressors”), short-lived minimalist drone (“Praise for Chaos,” “Dissonant Aggressors,” “Ascension Symptom Acceleration”), haunting ritualism (“Waves of Graves”), and ambient calm (“Kairos”). Death growls are sparse. Enter the Misanthropocene is so free jazz and avant-garde it forcibly drags nonconsenting listeners into what seems like obscenely high art…

…Or incompetent musicianship. Much of Abhorrent Expanse’s sound is rooted in utter nonsense, and one that often gets played really fast. While there’s certainly artistic discomfort aplenty to be found on this record, in which I can see some merit (“Waves of Graves,” “Drenched Onyx”), these are scattered moments among what sound like the plonks and twunks of a novice fiddling with a new guitar at Guitar Center. Atonal noodling and off-beat drumming accounts for the majority of its forty-eight minute runtime, sounding entirely random. The drone-doom moments feel off-beat and misaligned (“Praise for Chaos”), some ambient moments are so subtle and minimalist that they just cover John Cage’s 4’33” for a bit before eventually becoming audible (“Nephilim Disinterred”), and by the end of the ten-minute closer “Prostrate Before Chthonic Devourment” you might feel like you’ve been through a prostrate exam.

The promotion around Abhorrent Expanse relies on similarities to dissonant acts like Portal and Imperial Triumphant – but in order to do that, they’d actually have to write some songs first. Gateways to Resplendence was challenging and avant-garde but anchored to a respectable degree; Enter the Misanthropocene is a leaf on the wind, being blown by one avant-garde gust to another with no semblance of gravity to save it. Its high-art status is a divisive issue, as the directionless noodling can be seen as either a challenging piece of art or four dudes who don’t know how to play their instruments. But isn’t that the nature of art itself? Abhorrent Expanse holds a mirror to art itself, making us question what is drivel and what is erudite – through the improvised off-key noodling of someone who has arguably never picked up a guitar before.

Rating: 1.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Amalgam Music
Websites: abhorrentexpanse.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: August 15th, 2025

#10 #2025 #AbhorrentExpanse #AmalgamMusic #AmbientMetal #AmericanMetal #Aug25 #Bunsenburner #Celestiial #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #EnterTheMisanthropocene #FreeJazz #Grindcore #ImperialTriumphant #JohnCage #JohnZorn #NeptunianMaximalism #Noise #Obsequiae #Portal #Review #Reviews #TheBlight #ZebulonPike

Mütterlein – Amidst the Flames, May Our Organs Resound Review

By Dear Hollow

I’ve always unfairly ranked Rorcal above Overmars. What can I say? I got into Heliogabalus and Born Again around the same time, enamored by both single epic song interpretations of hardcore vigor, pained dissonance, and pitch-black sludge. Still, Heliogabalus took the cake when it came to bottom-scraping hellish riffs, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. Themes differ, as Rorcal’s elegant storytelling added further majesty to their colossal attack, while Overmars’ scrappy commentary on injustice and religious trauma owed a more anti-establishment aura. Rorcal remains one of my favorite acts, while Overmars broke up in 2011. Out of sight, out of mind, but it wasn’t until now that Overmars has come back to haunt me in the form of Mütterlein.

Mütterlein is a project of Overmars vocalist/bassist Marion Leclercq,1 but the sound in comparison to Overmars is a spiritual successor only. The sludge is present in the density in much the same way Author & Punisher offers, in walls of electronic darkness, synthesized percussion, and trip-hop beats, while climactic moments of mammoth post-metal chugs crash through like a freight train. Always rooted in more ominous atmospheres recalling the resounding organ of its cover, third full-length Amidst the Flames, May Our Organs Resound offers an electronic trip to the shadows that feels grandiose and explosive where it ought to, but far too stripped down in others.

Mütterlein revolves its movements around a synthesized beat, resembling either a darkwave pulse that feels a tad like Perturbator or a thunderously precise snare that feels like an electronic interpretation of Isis, and its movements flow around and atop it. It’s a simple but effective structure, as largely these percussion movements carry across an entire song, while Leclercq’s atmospheric songwriting allows more metallic movements to mesh in a slurry with the synth-driven elements that combine into a haunting overture that recalls some of horror’s more cinematic moments. From a synth-centric version of Amenra in its diminished post-metal rhythms, leads, and call-and-response riffage (“Wounded Grace”) to the pulsing wave of density interwoven with angelic choirs atop trip-hop beats (“Concrete Black,” “Ivory Claws”), and guest appearances of Church of Ra’s Treha Sektori in sprawling dark ambient interludes (“Memorial One,” “Memorial Two”), Mütterlein has a formula that is effectively simple and simply crushing when it needs to be, although its more minimalist pieces drag on for far too long (“Anarcha,” “Division of Pain”).

Mütterlein places its claustrophobic sound design front and center, and like any good post-metal album, vocals are just another instrument in Amidst the Flames, May Our Organs Resound. It’s a bit of a shame, because Leclercq gives her most passionate and disconcerting vocal performance, relying on a drawling Audrey Sylvain (ex-Amesoeurs) post-punk groan (“Ivory Claws,” “Memorial Two”) and a rabid Kristin Michael Hayter (formerly Lingua Ignota) sermonic howl (“Memorial One,” “Division of Pain”). Too much of the music becomes monotonous and repetitive without enough of her vocals to keep up the vigor and energy, its pulse quickly dwindling to a flatline (“Division of Pain”), making the tracks that feature a switch-up at its midpoint highlights (“Wounded Grace,” “Ivory Claws”). The sound palette is nice when her vocals guide the horror, giving a climactic three-prong attack of vocals, electronic pulses, and overlaying leads, but when one of those crucial elements is removed, Mütterlein quickly loses its bite.

I miss Overmars, but Mütterlein offers a brand new sound that’s both densely crushing and darkly atmospheric, even if the sound is imperfect. Recalling the likes of Author & Punisher in swaths of punishing electronics, Amenra in its haunting melodic approach, and Lingua Ignota in the fury behind the mic, there’s a lot to like about Amidst the Flames. However, there’s a thin line between intrigue and monotony, and when the track goes too long or Leclercq removes her vocals, the result becomes painfully dull in its more stark passages. Feeling a tad long at a normally reasonable forty minutes, Mütterlein offers a mixed bag with triumphant highs and dull lows in Amidst the Flames, May Our Organs Resound.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: mutterlein.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/mutterlein
Releases Worldwide: May 9th, 2025

#25 #2025 #AmbientMetal #Amenra #Amesoeurs #AmidstTheFlames #AuthorPunisher #DebemurMortiProductions #Electronic #ElectronicaMetal #FrenchMetal #IndustrialMetal #Isis #LinguaIgnota #MayOurOrgansResound #May25 #Mütterlein #Overmars #Perturbator #PostMetal #ReverendKristinMichaelHayter #Review #Reviews #Rorcal #TrehaSektori

Novarupta – Astral Sands Review

By Carcharodon

Novarupta’s Astral Sands is the fourth and final part of a tetralogy based on the elements fire, water, air, and earth. Covering the ‘earth’ part of that equation, Astral Sands follows ‘air,’ which came in the form of 2022’s Carrion Movements. A departure from previous outings, that album was an instrumental piece, comprising just two sprawling compositions but was executed so well that I couldn’t help but award it a 4.0. Astral Sands sees Novarupta not only reintroduce the vocals but return to the model seen on the series’ first two installments, Disillusioned Fire and Marine Snow, respectively, working with a different vocalist for each track on the album. Despite this choice having the potential to sap cohesion, to date Novarupta has somehow made it work. Can the band see out its ambitious series on a high?

Compared to the ethereal grandeur and restraint of Carrion Movements, there is an instant sense of presence and immediacy to Astral Sands from the off, even on instrumental intro “Ensamstående: Enastående.” The whole record combines a heavily distorted sound, that borders on sludge in the atmosphere it generates, without actually delivering sludge in the music (opening of “Seven Collides” or the back half of “Terraforming Celestial Bodies,” for example). In that sense, there’s something of Bossk’s Migration about it. Paired with upbeat drumming that borders on d-beat in places (closer “Now We are Here (at the Inevitable End)” or “The Clay Keeps”), Novarupta has a propulsive energy throughout that is at odds with much of their previous output, which is often ponderous and slow build. Even as Novarupta descend into morose trad doom a la Tiamat (“Breathe Breathe,” with vocals from Patrik Wirén of Misery Loves Co.) there’s a shimmering lightness to the guitars, enhanced by the synths, which slide from left to right and back again in the mix, that keeps the whole surprisingly vibrant.

Inevitably, with an album that changes vocalist on eight of its nine tracks (with one instrumental number), your enjoyment of Astral Sands will vary somewhat track by track, according to whose voice you like best. The indisputable highlight of the piece—at least for me and it’s my review, so it’s indisputable for present purposes—is closer, “Now We are Here (at the Inevitable End),” which finds Martin Wegeland of Domkraft on mic duties. Initially airy, vulnerable, and breathy in his delivery, by the end of the track and, therefore, the album, Wegeland hits the sort of manic intensity and urgency that I look for in the likes of Julie Christmas. Other standouts include the almost poppy “Endless Joy” and “Terraforming Celestial Bodies,” with the latter (featuring Greanleaf’s Arvid Hällagård on vox) nodding towards The Cure.1

Throughout the shifts in pacing and mood on Astral Sands, driven principally by the ever-changing vocal line-up, there’s a consistency in the sound, which knits together Novarupta’s songwriting. Whether it’s the lush post-metal guitars and bass groove (“Cosmographia”), or the spangly, fizzing synths, there’s a through line to the record that holds it together. It also helps that the various singers adopt a broadly comparable approach, with no harsh vocals on show and most taking a slightly distant, almost 80s-synthwave approach to their delivery. The production throughout, presumably to deliver that earthy feel, leans heavily into fuzz and distortion at the front of the soundstage, even though there’s an almost crystalline quality to some of the soundscapes and melodies behind that.

To be honest, I had no idea what to expect from Astral Sands. I had been tipped off in advance that the vocals were back but had resolutely resisted listening to the singles. And I’ll admit I was nervous. While I enjoyed Marine Snow, for me the highlight of Novarupta’s catalogue was Carrion Movements, where the abandonment of ever-shifting vocalists allowed mainmen Alex Stjernfeldt and Arjen Kunnen to focus on their compositions, which were huge in scope and delicately executed. On Astral Sands, the pair have reverted to their previous model, while learning from what they delivered on Carrion Movements. Although the album is structured as nine tracks, there is flow and a sense of grandeur to it, which builds on Carrion Movements. Even the bookending of the album, with reflected similarities between the start of sonorous opener “Ensamstående: Enastående” and more intense closer “Now We are Here (at the Inevitable End),” highlights this. More than a worthy closing movement in Novarupta’s tetralogy, Astral Sands is the pick of the series.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Suicide Records
Website: facebook.com/novaruptaband
Releases Worldwide: February 14th, 2025

#2025 #40 #AlternativeMetal #AmbientMetal #AstralSands #Bossk #Domkraft #Feb25 #Geenleaf #JulieChristmas #MiseryLovesCo_ #Novarupta #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SuicideRecords #SwedishMetal #TheCure #Tiamat

Unreqvited – A Pathway to the Moon Review

By Carcharodon

Unreqvited and I have history. The excellent Mosaic I: L’Amour et L’Ardeur (2018) was just the third review I wrote here and also my first 4.0.1 Since then, I’ve reviewed the slightly creaky Mosaic II: La déteste et la détresse (3.0) and the very good Beautiful Ghosts (3.5). Now back with seventh album, A Pathway to the Moon, Unreqvited are the band I’ve reviewed more than any other, and the bright, expansive synth work, paired with post-black explosions and howled, wordless vocals feel almost like a comforting hug at this point. While retaining a core sound, Unreqvited’s albums have moved progressively away from the DSBM / post-black stylings that defined their early releases, moving ever further into an ambient post-space. However, A Pathway to the Moon, sees possibly the biggest shift to date, the introduction of vocals. Like, proper singing, with words and stuff. So, what does sole member 鬼 (Ghost) have to say?

While closer to a traditional album in structure than Unreqvited’s previous output, A Pathway to the Moon gives the impression of a cinematic soundtrack. Flowing between something that, at times, nudges up against Ihsahn territory (“The Antimatter”), synth-dominated ambient work and soaring guitar- and vocal-led pieces that could almost be Caligula’s Horse in places (“The Starforger”), there’s a lot to take in. It’s credit to 鬼 that the album retains a cohesive feel, despite its chameleonic mood shifts. Bookended by the percussion-free dreams of “Overture: I Disintegrate” and “Departure: Everlasting Dream,” A Pathway to the Moon has the feel of a journey, guiding the listener through shifting landscapes. Or moonscapes. For all the lush synth work and keys, there’s something desolate and sad about the album, which has a much more despondent feel to it than 2021’s Beautiful Ghosts.

Perhaps A Pathway to the Moon’s feeling of loneliness is driven by the vocals. It turns out that 鬼’s voice, previously a wordless, howling demon, is actually high, clear, and fragile, with an almost ethereal edge to it, especially when double-tracked (“Void Essence / Frozen Tears”). In places, I was reminded of Mark Garrett’s (Kardashev) cleans, which is a very good thing indeed. While clean vocals now dominate, both black metal rasps and DSBM shrieks have their place in the mix but, from the outset to the close, it’s Unreqvited’s new face that we see the most. Whether set to warbling electronica (“Into the Starlit Beyond”) or dancing guitar lines (“The Starforger”), it’s hard to see the focus as anything but 鬼’s voice. There may be a degree to which this is because A Pathway to the Moon shatters my expectations of what an Unreqvited album is but there is no doubt that, after six albums more or less instrumental albums, 鬼 has found his voice.

The prominent introduction, not just of vocals, but of clean singing, came as a surprise to me. However, on reflection, it is also a natural progression in Unreqvited’s sound from previous outing, Beautiful Ghosts. It also aligns with the shift into being more of a touring band. While 鬼’s (surprisingly) strong voice carries the transition, to a certain degree, the compositional focus has also shifted slightly away from the gorgeous soundscapes that were the hallmark of Mosaic I and Empathica. While “Void Essence / Frozen Tears” showcases all aspects of Unreqvited’s sound to excellent effect, other tracks (most notably “Into the Starlit Beyond”) feel almost like something was taken away to make space for the vocals. To put it another way, rather than the vocals embellishing or enhancing what was great about Unreqvited, what used to be achieved instrumentally, is now achieved through the vocals. It’s still very good but weirdly has the feel of treading water, rather than moving forward. The drums are also pushed way down into the mix to make space for the vox, leaving the percussion lacking a bit of impact.

If that last paragraph reads as heavily critical of Unreqvited, it’s not meant to. I really enjoy A Pathway to the Moon but I’ve been on something of a journey with it. I generally don’t listen to advance tracks of things I know I’m going to review, preferring to come into the album as a whole. This meant the shift to singing caught me off guard. After I got over my surprise, I loved it but, the more time I spent with the album, the more I missed some of the rich textures and dynamics from previous records, some of which were left on the cutting room floor. That said, this is a hugely enjoyable, emotively written record that I thoroughly recommend.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: unreqvited.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/unreqvited
Releases Worldwide: February 7th, 2025

#2025 #35 #APathwayToTheMoon #AmbientMetal #Blackgaze #CaligulaSHorse #CanadianMetal #DSBM #Feb25 #Ihsahn #Kardashev #PostRock #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #ProphecyProductions #Review #Reviews #Shoegaze #Synthwave #Unreqvited

Fós – Níl mo chroí in aon rud Review

By Carcharodon

When I reviewed Irish duo Fós’ last outing, Rinne mé iarraidh (which translates as “I Tried”), back in 2020, I wanted to be spellbound. And I was, in parts. Combining traditional Irish folk sean-nós singing (courtesy of Orla Cadden Patel) with the drone, electronica and the vaguely post-metal stylings of multi-instrumentalist and main songwriter Fionn Murray, it had a deeply emotional core. It was also rare in offering something genuinely unique. At the same time, the duo were finding their voice on that record, and it showed. Cadden Patel’s voice was stunning but, at times, rather than coalescing with the music, the two felt discordant and disjointed, while the music itself was rarely memorable. Four years later, with a record deal and a new singer—Susan ní Cholmáin—Fós are back with Níl mo chroí in aon rud.1 The band say that this record places a greater emphasis on riffs and song structure, as well as bringing more densely layered arrangements. Can this deliver the spellbinding experience I so wanted from this band?

From the first notes of intro “Déistin,” with pulsing electronica and deep, thrumming guitars, it’s clear that Níl mo chroí in aon rud is going to be a different record from its predecessor. And so it proves. Fós has focused not just on song structure but also album structure this time, with an overall flow to the music that strives to match the rise and fall of ní Cholmáin’s voice, which soars and dips and twists. Deftly combining everything from post-doom (“Bádaí na Scadán”) and rumbling drone-adjacent noise (“Táim i mo shuí”) to stripped-back neo-folk (“Molly na gCuach Ní Chuilleanáin”), Níl mo chroí in aon rud is a far more accomplished record than Rinne mé iarraidh. This sense is helped by the fact that ní Cholmáin’s voice is ever so slightly deeper and less ethereal (though no less beautiful) than her predecessor’s. Imbued with a rich silkiness, it somehow blends better with the music than Cadden Patel’s did.

The objective Fós set itself of blending traditional Irish folk singing, with a diverse array of almost-metal styles, was no small task. Yet it is one they have come close to achieving on Níl mo chroí in aon rud. Despite the heavy use of throbbing electronica and thudding percussion, there is a somber beauty and resonance to much of the material here, that leaves me with a deep sense of longing and loss after each spin. The album makes use of interludes (“Trua” and “Maolaitheach”), in addition to the intro, something I am not usually a fan of. However, in situ, these feel both integral and necessary to the album, with “Maolaitheach” bridging well from the fire-and-shadow neofolk tones of album highlight “Molly na gCuach Ní Chuilleanáin” to the bright, buzzing edges of album closer “An Mhaighdean Mhara.”

The change in singer, coupled with much more focused songwriting, has done wonders for Fós. Where Rinne mé iarraidh meandered, Níl mo chroí in aon rud feels focused and purposeful. Still tight at only 37 minutes, the clearer structures feel as though they were written with the vocals in mind, rather than simply acting as a sonic backdrop to them. That said, not everything works, with the first half of “Slán le Maigh” feeling aimless. Still, as the rumbling, distended chords give way to brighter synth work, which recalls Unreqvited in places, Fós recapture the magic they conjure elsewhere. Similarly, the down-tuned groove that dominates the first third of “Bádaí na Scadán” is a somehow jarring way to kick off the first song proper but they settle into their rhythm and these are really the only musical missteps on the album. Were the production better, Níl mo chroí in aon rud could have threatened the score safety counter. Although undoubtedly a step up from the last outing, feeling denser and more textured than the last album, the mix is off. The drums, in particular, are too far forward and feel over-defined, threatening to swallow the vocals in the record’s heavier moments (back end of “Bádaí na Scadán,” for example).

When I saw that Fós was back with a new album, I was genuinely pleased. Despite having dolled out a meager 2.5 last time, I found them genuinely interesting and packed with potential. After nearly four years, I assumed that was last we would hear of them. The fact that Níl mo chroí in aon rud not only arrived but delivered on the promise is fantastic. Fós have done exactly what I hoped they would, better blending the music with the haunting, poignant vocals (even if delivered by a new singer) and I hope we get more soon. Please don’t let Murray do the cover design again. I’m begging you.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Fiadh Productions
Websites: fosmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/fosmetal
Releases Worldwide: January 27th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmbientMetal #DoomMetal #Drone #Electronica #FiadhProductions #Fol #Fós #IrishMetal #Jan25 #NeoFolk #NílMoChroíInAonRud #Noise #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Unreqvited

Bunsenburner – Reverie Review

By Dear Hollow

My relationship with Germany’s Bunsenburner grows with each release, and you could say it’s getting pretty serious, like a dark romantasy. I completely ripped third full-length Poise a new one which garnered the ire of mastermind Ben Krahl. But like any hate relationship that borders on masochistic, he saw the light and sent in follow-up Rituals – and our love blossomed. The act’s backbone lies in the fuzz and jam-sesh vibes of stoner metal, but with enough free jazz and crystalline ambiance to kill a full-grown elephant, it embraces the psychedelia in tasteful ways with instrumental prowess.

Reverie, then, is a continued honing of Bunsenburner’s seemingly scattershot influences, reflecting the pedigree of its contributors.1 While the free jazz of Rituals is certainly present, it is anchored by much-improved fuzzy stoner riffage a la Poise, owing a certain “thinking man’s jam sesh” vibe – oxymoronic or not. Reverie simply feels like a better form of Poise altogether, that the riffs are in the spotlight, but all atmospheric elements shine in enacting a psychedelic shimmer that adds to the weight and teleports it otherworldly planes. It’s the best album Bunsenburner has made, but then again, they made a song named after me. So.

Reverie’s best qualities amp the accessibility. The grooves are tighter, the songs shorter to enhance the effect, and there are still riffs I can’t get out of my head since. There are covers aboard Reverie,2 but Bunsenburner’s sound is so organic it could as easily have been original. As always, Bunsenburner has never felt lacking in its entirely instrumental approach, and with a better track formula focusing on organic movements from riff to riff, the stoner-focused track shine (“Gleam of the Goddess,” “Trigger,” “Catfight,” “Bagbak”) with a renewed urgency that hits hard and fast and doesn’t overstay its welcome, not to mention its trademark atmospheric tricks (e.g. flute in “TORO,” nintendocore synth in “Bagbak”). The jam sesh chemistry feels more palpable here, owing to a fuzz that doesn’t overwhelm and a rich rhythmic tapestry that adds to the replay factor. The album is forty-four minutes, with thirteen tracks to its name – only a handful of songs exceed the three-minute mark, which adds to the conciseness and punch.

A stark departure from Poise, Bunsenburner isn’t all ballsy riffs. Experimental moments abound, like the two part “Letting Go (softly)” and “Letting Go (hardly),” which are in essence the same song with all its melodies and motifs but one feels like a crystalline post-rock song and the other a stoner metal riff-fest. Slower chuggy passages abound that add a sludgy swampiness to the sound (“Golden Shower,” “Triskaidekaphobie”), without dragging the sound into stagnancy. Longer tracks (“Ballade Four,” “Triskaidekaphobie”) balance the two approaches in thick stoner riffs that move smoothly into gentle plucking and back again, in places feeling a tad like a more stoner-oriented Hex-era Earth. The influences of classic guitar abuse reminiscent of psychedelic Jimi Hendrix is felt throughout (“Zodiac Shit,” “Golden Shower”), while bluesy southern rock melodic sensibilities rear Gothic and mysterious heads (“Waltz, alone,” “Ballade Four”). The most obvious remnant of Rituals’ free jazz is track eight, “Dear Hollow,” a minute-long gush of wailing noise, warbling synth, and punky blastbeats – obviously and objectively the best track Bunsenburner has ever released and likely ever will.

Bunsenburner continues to hone its skills. While it sacrifices a bit of the holistic cohesion of Rituals with its more riff-centric attack, Reverie feels more a redemption arc of Poise – its pieces, however disjointed they can feel, are done with stunning clarity, organicity, and power. The grooves hit harder, the atmosphere is more complementary, and the experimental flare is palpable without sacrificing the album cohesion. Its cover’s cuddly black metal kitten is playful homage to the act’s jam-seshing chemistry, although its experimental and atmospheric elements are more than meets the ear. Next time, make the song about me a little longer for a higher score, okay? Kisses!

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 17th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmbientMetal #Bunsenburner #DoomMetal #Earth #FearMyThoughts #FreeJazz #GermanMetal #Jan25 #JimiHendrix #LongDistanceCalling #PostRock #Reverie #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #SludgeMetal #SouthernRock #StonerMetal #Triptykon

#deathmetaldad day 153 https://youtu.be/5eqnHb1XEHM?si=dLWXrHKkyO8Wg3s5

Post metal royalty

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