Spawned in 2007, Danish quintet Crocell started life as a humble, but prolifically productive melodic death metal troupe, churning out five LPs in a relatively brief decade. Six years passed between their fifth and sixth outings, but only two years span the difference between that and the new Swarm of Insects, distributed by Emanzipation Records. Throughout all of that history, Crocell have gotten progressively more blackened in their riff-centered, deathly dealings, but otherwise remained remarkably stable both in sound and lineup. This begs a question of curiosity: What six-legged horrors await me here?

While it’s still true that Crocell haven’t made great shifts in sound or style over the last few records, Swarm of Insects is a more epic and sprawling affair than, say, the relentlessly aggressive Relics. This puts it more in line with black-metal forward predecessor Of Frost, Of Flame, Of Flesh, which saw Crocell leaning more heavily into sweeping songwriting arcs highly reminiscent of Limbo-era Gaerea by way of Sulphur Aeon, with a twist of Emperor. That said, some of the Dormant Ordeal-but-slower death of Relics returns on Swarm. This reprisal of crushing heft, in turn, affords Swarm a more threatening nature without becoming wholly oppressive or undoing its grand storytelling voice.

If that description gives you pause or causes concern that Crocell lost their edge, one spin of the title track should provide ample reassurance. Its scorching tremolo-forward riffs and spectacular energy bring heat to the blood and buzz to the saw. “Traitor’s Blood,” “Shredded Banners,” and “Wolfen Man” double down on that attack, and the extra 90 seconds Crocell invested into what used to be their standard mid-three-mid-four-minute template suits them well. Using that extra time to fortify serrated riffs built to shred and terrify with ominous bridges soaked in shadow and mist brought a new vocabulary to Crocell’s musical lexicon. Not entirely unexpected from a band of this advanced experience, but also not entirely dissimilar to the welcome progression of songwriting sophistication that Sulphur Aeon displayed across their discography, Crocell’s expansion of scope allows the five-plus minutes of “Labyrinthian Tunnels” and even the somewhat weaker “Volcano” to feel justified and satisfying.

As much as Crocell excel in Swarm of Insects’ more patient songwriting, so too do they leave behind some of the more exciting characteristics of past efforts. Always the show-stealer, undercelebrated drummer Andreas Posselt is more restrained here across the board, and I miss the jaw-dropping acrobatics and scalpel-sharp accuracy of his tom-and-cymbal play displayed on past efforts. His performance is still enviable, of course. However, opener “Sarcophagus” is somewhat forgettable in relation to Swarm’s later offerings, in part due to its more reserved writing and lack of that percussive showmanship that I look for from Crocell. Concurrently, Tommy Christensen and Mads Gath traded some of their riff quota for great, towering arcs of trem-picked melodies and protracted chord work. This allows big moments from “Sculptor of Nations” and “Wolfen Man” to hit with tectonic impact—and also serves as a vehicle to bring audibility to Onkel Kusse’s oft-buried bass burble—but may alienate listeners who hoped for another nonstop barnstormer from these Danes. Asbjörn Steffensen, on the other hand, strikes a great balance between deathly roars, hoarse rasps, and pained chants that feel impassioned without losing control entirely. His technique here might be cribbed directly from the tomes of Sulphur Aeon, resulting in a most minor case of identity theft, but it’s a great technique for this sound regardless.

41 minutes pass, the locusts that once blinded my vision now only dot the horizon and straggle before my feet. Wings gently flutter on either side of my ears, and I’m left standing aghast at what just transpired. Crocell, as I anticipated, brought enough heat to spike my adrenaline with concerning ease. This Swarm of Insects may not pose as mortal a danger as previous attacks, but it nonetheless offered its own kind of excitement. In another world, I might be thankful that this wave was easier to weather. But I can’t deny that I miss the intensity and the terror of experiences past. I won’t begrudge Crocell for this more “pleasant” plague, as it was a fine plague all the same. I just hope, one day soon, to fear for my life again.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Emanzipation Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Escuchando el EP début de Zørza, catarsis brutal

https://zorzapbm.bandcamp.com/album/iei

#blackeneddeathmetal #blackmetal #postblackmetal #music

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DoSounDiable - The Bendtrails Of Doom

"If you like some old school death, check it out !!"

https://getmusic.fm/l/TMbm8S

#metal #blackmetal #blackeneddeathmetal #extrememetal #occultblackmetal #oldschooldeath metal #osdm #music

The spirit of metal has always been transgressive. Even though the genre can no longer be epitomized by a group of men with long hair, wearing all black, screaming about Satan and death,1, there remains an element that threatens an established order or sensibility. This is most obvious in the sound itself, which apparently turns a majority of listeners away even as it attracts weirdos like us. But while we may roll our eyes at metal of any kind being dismissed as ‘just noise’ and ‘horrible’, there are some cases where we can acknowledge that the music in question really is very inaccessible. Then we’re confronted with that same transgressiveness non-metalheads face when they listen to less-extreme metal, and enjoyment—let alone qualitative assessment—becomes complex. So it was when I was faced with Dhrupad Anutpada (ধপদ অন$ৎপ&দ): Apophatic Ragas Of Non-Origination, the debut of Indian/Canadian act Nirriti whose intense blackened noise is paired with a philosophical theme that denies the occurrence of creation. Its heresy is every bit as transcendentally horrifying as it sounds.

Nirriti are fully committed to their unorthodoxy. As members of black/noise circle Kolkata Inner Order Propaganda—along with Tetragrammacide, Necrodeity, among others—the trio demonstrate a level of nightmarishness worthy of the circle’s proclaimed “esoterrorism.” Not only is the lyrical theme bizarre yet intriguing, but the music is some of the most oppressive I’ve ever heard. For context, after finishing my first play-through of Dhrupad Anutpada, I decided to listen to Portal to “wind down.” Nirriti’s use of guitar as something from which to make a shuddering wall of sound, from which the occasional dissonant tremolo scale creeps out, is somewhat similar to Portal’s. Here, this wall feels still more monolithic due to Dodecahedron-on-steroids percussive violence that breaks away from a cacophonous blast, only to smash any hint of quiet with cymbals. Omnipresent vocal reverb, that iterates nigh on every hellish roar into a multiplicity of frightening confusion and chaos, becomes the final smothering layer in Dhrupad Anutpada’s impenetrable shroud of horror.

Up to this point, everything I’ve said about Dhrupad Anutpada could be taken positively or negatively—a quirk of how we often discuss extreme metal. This cognitive dissonance is as central to the proper experience of the album as literal harmonic dissonance. Nirriti’s take on noisy brutality approaches the hypnotic as they infuse passages with a sense of repetition through just-audible repeating scales and the aforementioned flickering echoes of vocals (“Mandukya…,”2 “In the Hallways…”). This creates a viscerally chilling sense of a tape skipping or playing backwards, or of the dizziness you feel just before you faint. It’s strange, but such passages grip the listener more powerfully than those where the reverb and blackened sensibility soften to allow the riffs breathing room (“One Foot…,” “Glissando…”), though the latter do reset the sempiternal rhythm, and inject needed jabs of urgency at their best (“One foot…,” “Golden Yolk…”). The relentless drumming, often more prominent than the guitars, serves primarily as a propeller to churn up these waters, such that it becomes a perverse relief when it settles into a battering, crashing attack (“In the Hallways…,” “Golden Yolk…,” “Vilambit Laya…”); because you can at least count the blows.

Dhrupad Anutpada maintains a consistent level of intensity thanks to these constant, if sometimes subtle, fluctuations. Creeping guitar ascents (“In the Hallways…,”), a rhythmic syncopation between roars and drums (“Mandukya…”), and the sudden breaks into noise (“Glissando…”) or the comparative ease of dissonant death metal (“One Foot…”) keep one hooked, straining one’s ears to catch the nuances in this chthonic chaos. Nirriti display an impressive command of their craft, turning harsh vocals into a weapon of horror, wielding guitars like percussion and percussion like punishment. It’s clearly intended to overwhelm and unsettle its audience. The problem is that it’s perhaps too successful, Dhrupad Anutpada being so exhausting that it can make one feel physically nauseated. After many listens, once the initial shock has passed, it’s easier to spot the places Nirriti reuse their tricks, and the corresponding movements lose a little potency (“In the Hallways…,” “Vilambit Laya…”).

I want to believe Dhrupad Anutpada is as profound as it presents itself. There is something to be said for an album that so powerfully confronts and terrifies its listener—it is the very essence of metal and the heart of philosophical unorthodoxy. Yet Nirriti tread a touch too far into the formless abyss to reach all but the most dedicated acolytes of the heretical metal underground. Dhrupad Anutpada may open your mind, but it’s just as likely to send you scrambling, horrified, away from the nightmare Nirriti have unleashed.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Iron Bonehead Productions
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

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GREH - Dysphoric Devotion

"Punishing and emotionally charged blackened death assault, fusing groove and dissonance into a devastating statement of rage!"

https://getmusic.fm/l/D7BkhM

#punk #deathmetal #doom #sludge #blackeneddeathmetal #balckmetal #music

You may note that I haven’t published a full review in more than a week. You may also note that my most recent contribution to AMG Productions was a ranking for the best of death metal’s old guard. You may peek at the score below and question my ability to remain objective in light of my recent musical diet. But worry not, dear reader! Objectivity is my prime objective, Fairness and Justice my guiding lights. You can rest assured that this review of Ignobleth’s debut LP, Manor of Primitive Anticreation, contains naught but Unbiased and Very Correct Opinions™.

Hailing from northern Italy, Ignobleth peddles a unique blend of black and death metal. This trio, comprised of A.L. on guitar, A.B. on bass and vocals, and M.O. on drums, combines the esoteric psychosis of Ritual Ascension with the grime and filth of Rotpit and an HM2 pedal. The result is a worship service held in the darkest recesses of a city sewer system. Murky, mangy riffs echo and multiply as they careen down lightless, sweating passageways, and haunted rasps reverberate in the mire. Together, Ignobleth creates an oppressive and turbid atmosphere, most acutely felt on “Proselyte Pig I” and “And the Lunar Mass Shatters.” The loping, swinging main riff of the former evokes gothic, vaudevillian horror, while M.O.’s icy kit work on the latter encourages eldritch panic.

Speaking of M.O., his percussive assault is perhaps the highlight of Manor of Primitive Anticreation, but not for the reason you might think. Indeed, he effortlessly oscillates between blackened blasts, death-infused rhythms, and punky beats (“Warped Abyssal Architecture,” “Forked Tongues”), but the predominance of the drums here is largely a result of a very subpar production job. Vocals and drums are centered on an unnecessarily wide sound stage with strings as far left and right as they can go, and as a result, each track feels less like a cohesive song and more like instruments playing at the same time. And while A.L.’s guitar is fairly clear when spotlighted for leads and hooks, the second the rest of the band joins in, it becomes barely audible mush. Prime examples include “Obelisk of Deformity,” which, during faster paced sections, becomes a wall of indeterminable sound, and “Proselyte Pig II,” which drowns its main riff in vat of sludge, such that I can barely hear more than two notes when I know A.L. is playing several more.

Would that the woes of Manor of Primitive Anticreation stopped there. Ignobleth includes an intro and three separate interludes on an album spanning only 11 tracks (“Intro,” “Spores,” “Interlude: Lecherous Sex Magick,” and “Manor of Primitive Anticreation”1). Interludes and ambient pieces can work, but here, they’re little more than minorly spooky synths, garbled spoken word, and choral bits that annoyingly interrupt the main course. Manor of Primitive Anticreation boldly includes even more ambience in the outro of “And the Lunar Mass Shatters,” and the last two minutes of album closer, “Among the Seventy-Two Embalmed Ekpyrotic Gods.” Even if the pacing were tighter and less stilted, the songwriting itself leaves much to be desired. Repetition runs rampant through the album (“Among…,” “Proselyte Pig I,” “Obelisk of Deformity”), blunting riffs and passages that could have bitten much harder. There’s also an overreliance on wordless howls over mildly furious instrumental sections. It’s so frequent that song structures seem composed almost entirely of bridges and solos with few verses or choruses to be found, compounding the album’s repetitive tendencies.

This has been a frustrating album to work with. While Ignobleth’s tone is deliciously vile, the songwriting and production leave me deeply disappointed. Over several spins, I got the distinct impression that Manor of Primitive Anticreation isn’t blackened death metal so much as something that sounds vaguely like it. It’s fine in the background, but direct attention reveals it to be a shallow imitation. Much of Manor of Primitive Anticreation seems geared toward a live audience—song structures, tone, prevalence of blast beats—and I have no doubt that it fucks quite hard in such a setting. Unfortunately, this style does not translate well to a studio production, much less the review process.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Caligari Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 2026