I grew up with a slew of friends who dabbled in the visual arts throughout the years. One in particular blew me away by stating that the greatest artists aren’t the masters of their trade in every aspect, but rather they know what they don’t have, or rather don’t need, to make a sizable impact. You don’t need to own the most expensive paint set, a wide array of colors at your disposal, or to fill up the canvas with stuff. You have to just create your vision with what you have, and let the negative space do the work for you. Swedish duo Moon Mother knows this. On their second full-length, Meadowlands, they paint a lush, aural landscape teeming with anguish, grief, and trauma, while also crafting a sense of wonder, peace, and a smidge of hope.

You probably scrolled down to the tags section and decided to nope out in record time, especially at the sight of the “Not Metal” tag, and that’s entirely your loss. What guitarist Patriec Ahlström and vocalist Sara Mehner crafted in Meadowlands is nothing short of breathtaking, and their usage of negative space to allow for Ahlström’s melodies and gentle strums to reverberate and roll through the sleepy landscape they’ve crafted. “Wilderness,” with its finger-plucked strings and gentle electric guitar hums, is a class example of what you can build with only what you’ve got. It’s not the high production values or expensive instruments that carry you through. Rather, it’s knowing what to say, how to say it, and when not to say anything at all.

And Mehner’s angelic voice is the perfect complimentary component. Whether it’s her powerful howling (opener “High Houses”), somber melodies (closer “Windhover”), or her achingly beautiful near-yodels (“Wilderness”, the awesome “Be a Forest, Child!”), Mehner’s ability to wring out the most emotion out of a song or melody rivals that of Chelsea Wolfe or Emma Ruth Rundle in terms of performance and power. The way her gentle wailing closes out the title track stirs up so many raw emotions that will have you feeling both heartbreak and catharsis, no matter how it manifests within you. Singling out certain moments on Meadowlands proved difficult because, in reality, her standout performance, coupled with Ahlström’s musical backdrop, is best enjoyed in a single, uninterrupted, and fully focused listening experience.

If there was a bone to pick with Meadowlands, it’s in the production, and even then, it’s not a dealbreaker. Meadowlands is drenched in reverb, and I mean drenched in reverb. Coupled with the compressed mix, it makes it a bit busy, especially during the second half of “High Houses.” That, and the album is loaded with cathartic moments in the album’s second half, almost to the point of being overwhelmingly so. But the last time I’ve been hit this hard, this potently, by a doom/folk hybrid was with Darkher’s debut album. That is some absolutely stellar company to be with, and Meadowlands connects viscerally on that level.

Sure, I know what the name of the website is, and Meadowlands is a colossal anomaly in that aspect. And yes, I’m sure my colleagues will give me a reasonable (re: absurdly high) amount of shit for giving it the score it’s getting, but Moon Mother crafted an album that’s simultaneously the perfect album to purge your emotions, and an album you can use as a backdrop for a dew-filled foggy morning with a mug of your favorite heated beverage of choice. In creating an album to signify grief and hope, they gained my attention and my adoration. Give it your time, and it most certainly will do the same for you.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format: WAV
Label: Independent/Self-Release
Websites: Official | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

As 2025 winds to a close, the depleted promo pit growls with hunger, eager for the new year and a fresh bucket o’ chum.1 As I sift through the meager mid-December hopefuls, I detect a flash of black and silver. Snatching the promo, I discover clarinet-wielding Vittorio Sabelli and his project Dawn of a Dark Age, along with ninth album Ver Sacrum. Released between 2014 and 2017, the band’s first five albums examined The Six Elements. Ver Sacrum is the conclusion of a tetralogy that explores the Samnites, a Roman-conquered civilization with roots in modern-day central Italy.2 Dear Hollow found the first part of the tetralogy wondrous at its best, but undercut by a tedious, ill-conceived back half. Even so, I couldn’t resist the allure of clarinet metal. After nine albums and a bit of baggage, can Sabelli & Co. bring a warm light to dreary days, or are we left in the dark of a false dawn?

At its core, Dawn of a Dark Age plays avant-garde black metal with folksy instrumentation, and on Ver Sacrum they set aside the scathing hostility found on earlier works to hone mood and atmosphere. Though the speed varies throughout the album, proceedings mostly stick to mid-paced tempos. Sound-wise, Dawn of a Dark Age sits at a crossroads of influences, eliciting the tribal spirit of Wardruna, the wistful temperament of Primordial, and the post-black pangs of White Ward.3 While these comparisons help orient expectations, Dawn of a Dark Age’s milieu is uniquely their own, and despite some imperfections, the band clearly demonstrates lessons learned.

Ver Sacrum by DAWN OF A DARK AGE

In addition to supplying much of the instrumentation throughout Ver Sacrum, Sabelli surrounds himself with a strong cast. Drummer Diego ‘Aeternus’ Tasciotti returns, skillfully supporting Dawn of a Dark Age with subdued cymbals and calculated double-bass rolls. In fact, Aeternus’ subtle kitwork deftly boosts the drama as slower passages accelerate and guitars and bass frolic with clarinets and keys. I particularly enjoy the accordion’s role, conjuring vivid Arcadian imagery as its lilting wheeze plays counter to delicate bass grooves and acoustic strums. Most distinctive, though, are the clarinet and bass clarinet. Outside Van Halen’s “Big Bad Bill (Is Sweet William Now),” I don’t recall any clarinet-centric passages in metal, and Ver Sacrum gives the ol’ licorice stick headlining prominence. Mixing clarinets with metal isn’t a combination I’d ever considered, but on Ver Sacrum, Dawn of a Dark Age convinces me there’s plenty of room for its warm, sulky timbre. Atop the music, new vocalist Ignazio Cuga saunters in with a deep, resonant style that ably treads ground covering croaks, growls, and throat singing.4 All told, Ver Sacrum creates an evocative atmosphere that mostly enchants with its rustic drones and occasional black metal bursts.

While Dawn of a Dark Age sharply demonstrates invigorated songwriting and improvements on the pitfalls from prior outings, Ver Sacrum still encounters a few snags. The 40-minute album length is just right, but the tendency to linger on passages remains, drawing beguiling moments past their prime. And though the awkward transitions found on La Tovola Osca have been largely addressed, a few are present here. Aside from these, performances sizzle, the production suits the music, and the assorted instruments and pacing concoct an engaging, well-manicured experience. The only thing holding back Ver Sacrum from higher praise is the lack of standout moments. I sink into the music every time I spin it, yet once it’s over, I’m left with impressions of the overall sound, absent specific refrains to call me back. Multiple listens reinforce Dawn of a Dark Age’s understated grace, but transitioning away from passages earlier would help build bigger climaxes and elevate Ver Sacrum’s immediacy.

Over eleven years and nine albums, Dawn of a Dark Age has whetted an uncanny aptitude for creating diverse textures and ambiances. Despite my gripes, Ver Sacrum hits more often than misses, and stands as a solid release in a month where good new music is in short supply. Further, this is a must-listen for anyone who wants to like black metal but generally finds it inaccessible. Dawn of a Dark Age takes harsher components of the genre and softens the edges, creating a concise yet engrossing experience for anyone looking to dip their toes into befolkened black waters.

Rating: Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: My Kingdom Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

#MusicWomenWednesday
#Darkher #HollowVeil
Track 44 of my #witchdoom playlist

https://darkher-uk.bandcamp.com/track/hollow-veil

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

An album that fits November, #SaturDoom, and #RegionalRiffs, all at once:

#TheDevilsTrade: Nincs Szennyezetlen Szép

https://album.link/t/456275838

FFO #Darkher #Hemelbestormer #Tenhi

Ellereve – Umbra Review

By Thus Spoke

In a world where “not metal” is used to deride artists as much as it is to make a factual statement about them, it’s funny how the metalsphere adopts a breadth of musical styles that borrow ‘key’ elements to various minimal degrees. Usually, they end up being grouped under post-metal. So it is that Ellereve lands in the sight of Angry Metal Guy—and more specifically, me. Their sonic palette, which has so far been defined by a largely acoustic, folk-leaning rock, now steps more confidently into post-metal and even post-black, though Elisa Giulia Teschner’s sweet, husky cleans remain the star around which everything orbits. Ellereve’s pivot to a slightly heavier sound is deliberate, reflecting the album’s confrontation of grief and trauma, but maintaining the same distinctive voice (literally and generally).

Like its namesake, Umbra is dark, but in a soft, dreamlike way. The reverberant atmosphere slips between airy weightlessness and dense gravity, as stripped-back liquid plucks and keys trade places with downtuned riffs, and Elisa’s singing also slips between ethereal and ardent. Her voice—along with the music’s overall vibe—recalls some mixture of Darkher, Halsey, and Draconian’s Heike Langhans, and against the smoky backdrop, adds to the music’s shadowy mystique. Sometimes creeping along with shuddering gravity (“An Avalanche of Shudders,” “Crawl”) or weightlessly (“Swallowed & Disguised”), sometimes bursting forth with spirited post-black or post hardcore energy (“Irreversible,” “The Veil of Your Death”), the album ebbs and flows to the fading and resurgence of cymbals, the final breaths of a vocal line, and the gentle crescendo of synth. While traversing several moods in this manner, Ellereve’s heart stays front and centre, making every resonant strum and note, and every switch up into heavier riffs and faster drums ring with honest emotion.

Umbra is an album of opposites, again embodying the metaphor of the shadow that exists only because of the light. Through this, the music possesses a staying power that’s subtle but powerful. The melodies are melancholic and yet often hopeful, as the notes lift an octave, and ambience, or an uptempo, seeps in. This is a synecdoche for the album’s theme, which surrounds the darkness of loss and trauma, but looks to the light on the other side of the pain. Many songs begin with the stillness of hanging plucks, distorted synth, or stripped-back lamenting, but end with uplifting refrains or assertive heaviness—relative to what came prior (“Funeral,” “Irreversible,” “Trauma”). Other songs showcase the duality in a more blended form. This could be through energetic tempos and brighter chords that transmit strength belying their lyrical solemnity (“Like a moth to a flame,” “The veil of your death”),1 or through the severe pathos of mournful tremolo and hanging plucks as the emotive singing delivers lyrics of finding strength and purpose (“Unravel,”2 “Trauma”). Some songs are even palpably onomatopoeic with quavering chords (“An avalanche of shudders”), strange, creeping synth-percussion patterns (“Crawl”), or heartbreakingly sad gaze (“Lost in Longings”) aptly embodying their title. Things thus feel dynamic but not scattershot, expressive but not overwrought.

I didn’t realize it, but Ellereve is exactly what I needed to hear. Their particular sound, blurring of elements from doom to post to gaze and more, while not totally novel, is magnetic in its distinctiveness. I feel like I know who Ellereve is, because their music communicates it so well. This is only helped by a strong production that emphasises the space created through any reverb, and centres the vocals without burying the instruments. That said, Umbra is hindered ever so slightly by Ellereve’s ambition, covering a lot of ground and in quite rapid succession, as songs all span three to five minutes. Honing in a little tighter, potentially by expanding material into longer tracks, is all it would take to reach greatness.

With Umbra, Ellereve step confidently out of the shadows. As a first transition into post-metal proper, it’s impressively well-crafted and is compelling in its own right. Both deeply emotional and easy to listen to repeatedly, it signals potential for brilliance in the artist’s future.3

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald(EU/ROW) | Eisenwald (US)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Darkher #Doom #DoomMetal #EisenwaldRecords #Ellereve #Folk #HarakiriForTheSky #Nov25 #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Shoegaze #Umbra

-ii- – Apostles of the Flesh Review

By Spicie Forrest

Before you ask, it’s pronounced “two eyes.” -ii- formed in Nancy, France in 2018. Since then, they’ve released a handful of EPs and singles, as well as a debut LP, Extinction, in 2021. Historically a duo—composer/multi-instrumentalist Benjamin Racine and singer Hélène Ruzic—the band brought on multi-instrumentalist Maxime Keller and drummer/percussionist David l’Huillier for their sophomore effort, Apostles of the Flesh.1 As a sucker for anything vaguely sacrilegious, that album title is what caught my interest, and I’m glad it did. Apostles of the Flesh is an intimate and visceral experience, and it’s one you shouldn’t miss.

-ii- is not a metal band. They play what they seem to call “ghost wave,” which sits somewhere between post-rock, goth, darkwave, trip-hop, and industrial, at times recalling HEALTH or Nine Inch Nails. If this sounds fairly electronics-heavy, it is. But on Apostles of the Flesh, -ii- eschews the drum machines and some other electronics of their debut in favor of live instrumentation, and it’s a resounding success. With l’Huillier’s lively drumming and Racine’s unique instruments,2 Apostles of the Flesh feels alive. This organic improvement over Extinction would be nothing to write home about, however, without the impressive songcraft Racine showcases here. Whether it’s a distorted, electronic bridge amidst tribal yet airy instrumentals (“Lotis”), impactful usage of audio effects (“Pearls Beneath the Embers,” “Virginia’s Mirror”), or shimmering synths draped over wistful strings (“The Fountain of Helicon”), everything fits together and flows effortlessly. Of particular note is “When Beauty is a Crime,” where -ii- mirrors its lyrical violence with a tense and uncomfortable atmosphere that refuses to let the listener move on. Apostles of the Flesh is intentional. It’s meticulously crafted. And metal or not, -ii- undoubtedly possesses the Metal Spirit™.

Two elements in particular drive this album’s high caliber: Ruzic’s vocals and l’Huillier’s drums. By turns conflicted (“The Birth of Venus”), seductive (“Sisyphus in Red”), defiant (“Where the Diamonds are Hurled”), and spiteful (“Under the Skin”), Ruzic guides the listener through an examination of the body and its inextricable link to the spirit. Lyrically, she’s transgressive like Ethel Cain or GGGOLDDD, but less direct. Her delivery hies closer to Chelsea Wolfe or Darkher, although -ii- fosters a greater sense of rhythmic urgency. This is largely accomplished by l’Huillier’s standout performance, both carnal and tribal. Hammering at his kit with artful brutality, l’Huillier drives ritualistic numbers (“Sisters of the Coven,” “Digging for Blood”), stricken passages (“Under the Skin,” “When Beauty is a Crime”), and enraptured crescendos (“The Birth of Venus”) with the same skilled hand. The spiraling climax of “The Fountain of Helicon” is a high point, as l’Huillier recklessly hurtles the listener toward the fabled spring. L’Huillier brings an intensity to Apostles of the Flesh that, combined with Ruzic’s provocative and emotive singing, cements this album not just as a collection of good songs, but as an intense, ritualistic experience.

Not only is Racine responsible for the musical arrangements, but he also handles much of the production. The mix is big and spacious, and each instrument gets plenty of room to flourish. Even in the most chaotic moments of Apostles of the Flesh, when drums, vocals, strings, or synths rise to a fever pitch, each element is clear and vibrant (“The Birth of Venus,” “Lotis,” “The Fountain of Helicon”). His use of the soundstage is equally impressive, and because of this, Apostles of the Flesh excels in a pair of headphones over a speaker system. Quivering strings and ethereal synths dynamically float through the space, creating a lost, forlorn sensation on “When Beauty is a Crime” and “Virginia’s Mirror.” Ruzic sounds so close and so private amid the waves and rainfall of spoken word piece “L’Onde et l’Abysse,” it’s as if she speaks to the listener alone.

Apostles of the Flesh is not an album to play in the background, and it’s not for everyone. It demands both your attention and an emotional investment to shine, but shine it does. Some might balk at a 65-minute runtime or note that several songs go on long after Ruzic is done singing. I consider it a testament to Racine’s compositional prowess that these longer outros feel valuable and that the album holds my attention front to back. Apostles of the Flesh is passionate, vulnerable, and cathartic. For those willing to commit, -ii- offers an intense, surreal journey you won’t soon forget.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Youtube
Releases Worldwide: October 3rd, 2025

#2025 #40 #ApostlesOfTheFlesh #ChelseaWolfe #Darkher #Darkwave #Electronica #EthelCain #FrenchMusic #GGGOLDDD #Goth #HEALTH #II #Industrial #NineInchNails #Noise #Oct25 #PostRock #Review #Reviews #SelfReleased #Shoegaze #Synthwave #TripHop

Stuck in the Filter: February 2025’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

February comes down the pipe about two or three months after February. A perfectly normal thing to experience here at AMG HQ, this Filter’s tardiness is brought to you in part by my body getting stuck in one of the tighter conduits that lines the concrete interior of this confounded bunker. My minions are elsewhere, trudging through similar environs, and report their findings to me via eldritch beast telepathy. Since I obviously don’t speak eldritch tongue, I have to use my Codex of Enspongification to decipher these antediluvian transmissions. I’m sure you can imagine, that takes no small measure of time, especially when you’re stuck in this galvanized prison of rusting sheetmetal.

Until my ungrateful minions can find me and rescue me—something I don’t expect to happen anytime soon considering I give them no workers benefits or pay of any kind—you’ll have to make do with the selections of rough-hewn and sharp, but valuable, ore provided below. OBSERVE AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Kenstrosity’s Crusty Grab

Metaphobic // Deranged Excruciations [February 28th, 2025 – Everlasting Spew Records]

When Atlantan death metal quintet Metaphobic caught my attention with the megalithic riffs opening their debut LP Deranged Excruciations, I thought the stank face it brought out of me might be permanent. Nothing new and nothing sophisticated awaits here. Just brutalizing riffs delivered in a relentless sequence of destruction. Lead guitars squeal and scrape against the swampy ground underfoot, leaving a noxious slime trail behind “Mental Deconstruction” and “Execration” that tastes of Tomb Mold, Incantation, and Demilich to varying degrees. Guttural utterances and cacophonic—but accessibly structured—riffs offer the same infernal ferocity of the olden ways. However, in a similar manner to Noxis, their application here feels modern and fresh-ish (“Execration,” “Veiled Horizons,” “Hypnosis Engram”). Not nearly as nuanced as that comparison might suggest, Metaphobic are more than satisfied to use their brutish death metal as a cudgel for blunt force trauma. Nods to death doom in long-form wanderings like “Disciples of Vengeance” and “Insatiable Abyss” provide an appreciable variation in pace, though it doesn’t always work in Metaphobic’s favor. While those songs tend to meander too long on ideas unfit to support such mass for so long, livid outbursts like “Veiled Horizons” and “Reconstituted Grey Matter” more than make up for it. In short Deranged Excruciations commands my attention enough to earn my recommendation here, and my attention going forward.

Tyme’s Missing Minutes

Caustic Phlegm // Purulent Apocalypse [February 28, 2025 – Hells Headbangers]

Caustic Phlegm is the filth project helmed solely by Chestcrush main man Evan Vasilakos, who joyously employed his HM-2 and RAT pedals to create the utter disgustingness that is Purulent Apocalypse. A far cry from the angsty, I’d-rather-see-humanity-dead blackened death metal of his main outfit, Caustic Phlegm is a throwback to the days when Carnage walked the streets of Sweden and Impetigo was melting faces and killing brain cells. Purulent Apocalypse is a platter of pestiferous riffs (“Fouled, Infected & Infested,” “Soft Bones,” “Blister Bliss”), so many it’s like sitting on a death metal toilet puking and shitting riffs ad nauseam. Evan’s drum work, replete with the occasional but very satisfying St. Anger snare tone, drives the mindless fun forward, and the 80’s zombie giallo synth work would have Lucio Fulci himself clawing out of his grave to eat your face. Vasilakos’ vocals are a fine litany of belches, squelches, and gurgles that sound like a colony of maggots cleaning the putrid flesh from a corpulent corpse. Caustic Phlegm is the foul stench of death and will have you reaching for the soap and steel wool as you try to rid yourself of the Purulent Apocalypse infection.

Vermilia // Karsikko [February 14, 2025 – Self Release]

Had the incomparable Darkher not released The Buried Storm in 2022, Vermilia‘s Ruska would have garnered my top spot that year, which put her on my radar for the first time. When I saw Vermilia‘s follow-up, Karsikko had dropped in February—sadly we didn’t receive a promo—I jumped at the chance to filter it. While Karsikko is a bit more straightforward than Ruska, it’s full of liltingly beautiful pianos (“Karsikko”) that give way to icy black metal riffs (“Kansojen Kaipuu”) and gorgeously rendered folk metal melodies (“Koti,” “Veresi”). Comparisons with Myrkur and Suldusk would be appropriate, but Vermilia continues to carve out her own space in the folk black metal scene, marrying beatific melody with beastly aggression. Performing all of the music on Karsikko, as is her one-woman calling card, renders her finished products even more impressive. The highlight has always been the voice, though, as Vermilia deftly transitions between angelic cleans (“Suruhymni”) and frosty rasps (“Vakat”), completing a circle that makes each of her releases a joy to listen to. It’s confounding that another of Vermilia‘s albums is an independent release, which might be artistically intentional or the result of bone-headed label execs. Either way, don’t miss out on Karsikko, as Vermilia shouldn’t stay unsigned for long.

Killjoy’s Drowsy Discovery

Noctambulist // Noctambulist II: De Droom [February 7th, 2025 – These Hands Melt]

Although I love blackgaze, I must admit that it can be challenging to find artists who stand out in the genre, whether through quality songwriting or unexpected twists. It turns out that the Dutch band Noctambulist1 offers both. Noctambulist II: De Droom is a fun and fresh blend of Deafheaven-adjacent blackgaze with a Molotov cocktail of post-punk energy. The power chord-driven guitar lines prove to be an unexpectedly compatible fuel source to propel the shimmering, gazey tremolos and blackened rasps to new heights. Many songs (particularly “Aderlater” and “Lichteter”) start with neat intro melodies that catch the listener’s attention, then build and ride that momentum throughout the remainder. A faint sense of loss—stemming from the achingly relatable theme of homeownership drifting further out of many people’s reach—pervades the record, but there is also an infectious cheerfulness. Despite their name, Noctambulist are hardly sleepwalking as they tread along a well-worn genre.

Thus Spoke’s Disregarded Diamonds

Sacred Noose // Vanishing Spires [February 2nd, 2025 – Breath Sun Bone Blood]

My experience with Irish extreme metal has been that it is all incredibly dark, twisted, and supremely, gorgeously dissonant.2 Belfast3 duo Sacred Noose make absolutely no exception to this rule. Vanishing Spires’ ruthlessly brief 31 minutes are defined by stomach-tightening twisted blackened death designed to cut to the heart of misery and fear. The lurching sensation brought about by rapid tremolo descents and sudden accelerations of ever more dissonant chords, impenetrable drums, and pitch-shifting feedback is nauseating (“Entranced by Concrete Lathe,” “True Emancipation”). The pure horror of the inhuman, high-pitched shrieks answering the already fearsome bellows is anxiety-inducing (“”Black Tempests of Promise,” “Moribund”). The near-constant buzzing of noise is oppressive (“Terminal Prologue,” “True Emancipation”); the creeping, malevolent scales unnerving. And Sacred Noose play with their victim, luring them into a trap of deceptively familiar cavern-core (“Sacred Noose”) before throwing a hood over their head and yanking them backwards into more horrifying mania; or perhaps they’ll start with the assault (“True Emancipation”). This more ‘straightforward’ edge to Sacred Noose is most akin to a faster Sparagmos, while their dominant, demonic personality I can compare most faithfully to Thantifaxath, if Thantifaxath were more death-metal-inclined. Vanishing Spires is the first time since the latter’s 2023 Hive Mind Narcosis that a record has genuinely made me feel afraid.

Crown of Madness // Memories Fragmented [February 28th, 2025 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Life unfortunately got in the way of me giving this a proper review, but Crown of Madness deserve better than to slip by unmentioned. Memories Fragmented is the duo’s debut, but Crown of Madness is one of several projects both are already in.4. The ominous yet colourful sci-fi/fantasy cover art and spiky logo scream ‘tech-death’ and that is indeed what Crown of Madness deliver. At base, there is some damn fine technical death metal here that’s impressive and acrobatic (), but snappy, not outstaying its welcome—the entire record barely stretches beyond 35 minutes. But there is more to Memories Fragmented, and as a result, it is memorable.5 A drawl to certain refrains (), the tendency to gently sway to a slow, near-pensiveness (), the atmospheric hanging of some tremolos over a warm, dense bass (). There is depth. And it reminded me quite starkly of early Ulcerate. In this vein, the record leans towards the more meandering side of the subgenre, gripping not with hooky riffs and heart-pumping tempos, but an intricate kind of intensity. Memories Fragmented arguably goes too far in the indistinct direction, and as a result, loses immediacy. But the churning, introspective compositions presage the potential for true brilliance on future releases.

Vacuous // In His Blood [February 28th, 2025 – Relapse Records]

Full of youthful vigour, London’s Vacuous demonstrate their willing ability to evolve with their sophomore, In His Blood. While debut Dreams of Dysphoria, which I covered back in 2022, played more or less by the disso-death book, here they are already experimenting. Strange, almost post-metal atmosphere now haunts the boundaries (“Hunger,” “Public Humiliation,” “No Longer Human”), combining brilliantly with the band’s already cavernous death metal sound, and amplifying its fearsomeness. Crowning example of this is the gem Vacuous save for the record’s final act in closer “No Longer Human.” In His Blood also sees them flirt with a punkier energy that borrows more than a little bit of malice from the blackened handbook (“In His Blood,” “Flesh Parade”), backed up by d-beats, and contrasting well with their now less frequent crawls. At its most explosive, In His Blood feels downright unhinged, in the best way (“Stress Positions,” “Immersion”), but it never feels messy, and there’s potential in here for Vacuous to evolve into yet another, incredibly potent form of unique, modern hybrid extreme metal. I wish there were more than 30 minutes of this.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Bottom o’ the Barrel Boons

Pissgrave // Malignant Worthlessness [February 21st, 2025 – Profound Lore Records]

Though it may appear, at a glance, that I have gold-colored glasses for bands of rank and urological reference, I’d call it more of a chance happening that such miscreant acts have created intriguing works. And, truthfully, PISSGRAVE has leaned closer to filth first, function second with the war-leaning crackle (and brazenly offensive cover art) that relegates their lineage to corners of listening ears who need therapy with a high tolerance for guts and grime. Malignant Worthlessness, of course, is not accessible by any means, though, despite these Philly boys packing these nine ode to a failed society in a package that doesn’t cause immediate squirm. But with grooves trapped in an endless skronk and blast, and vocals shifted and layered to reflect the sound of a swarm of Daffy Ducks with a serious disdain for life, PISSGRAVE still embodies an endless swirl of unleashed aggression rendered in riffed and regurgitated form. Malignant Worthlessness lives on the dry and crispy side with most of its tones, which allows copious hits of quick delay and reverb on OUGHs and EEEEEEEUGHs to land with an extra psychedelic knocking when you least expect it. Little slows down the pain train here, with tracks like “Heaping Pile of Electrified Gore” and “Internment Orgy” taking brief detours into chunky guitar builds that feel within grasp of normalcy just before dropping back into an intensified flaying. Elsewhere, a martial urgency that reminds of Paracletus-era Deathspell Omega or the industrial-tinged pummel of Concrete Winds, stirs a twitching movement response, all while retaining a grinding death snarl and chromatic fury, leading its fused-by-hatred structures toward an explosive and fuming conclusion. Humanity has no place in the PISSGRAVE environs, and Malignant Worthlessness, in its celebration of a hostile world, does everything it can to reinforce that.

終末回路 // 終端から引き剥がす [February 20th, 2025 – Self Release]

For things that wander around the math rock world, nailing a vibe remains essential to enjoyment. It’s all too easy in this day and edge to fall into the comfortable trap of ambient tapping and comfortable posty swirls to pleasant crescendos that renders many modern acts to high brow background music (even including bands I like, to a degree, like Covet or Jizue). New Japanese act 終末回路,6 however, chooses to imbue their nimble and tricky instrumental center with the searing emotion and urgency of a noisy post-hardcore, with searing vocal inclusions adding a gravitas to passages that would otherwise threaten to flutter away in glee (“誤殖,” “知らねぇよ”). On one end, 終末回路 delivers a bright playfulness that swings with the pedal power and psychedelia of a young Tera Melos. Yet, weighted with a punk urgency and rawer Japanese assembly of tones, which give a physical clang to tight kit heads and blazing squeal to shrill loops and feedback, 終末回路 finds a constant momentum in their shorter form excursion that makes my lack of understanding of its introspective lyrics a non-issue. Packing plaintive piano melodies (“ご自由に “), speaker blowing synth cranking (“dgdf++be”), and prog-tinged guitar flutters (“知らねぇよ”) into one listening session isn’t easy, but with this debut outing of 終端から引き剥がす,7 終末回路 makes it seem as if they’ve been honing the craft for years.

Saunders’ Salacious Skeeves

Möuth // Gobal Warning [February 14th, 2025 – Self Release)

Veteran rockers The Hellacopters returned with a typically rollicking, fun album in February. Elsewhere, dropping with little fanfare, fellow Swedes and unsung power trio Möuth emerged with an intriguing debut rock platter, entitled Global Warning. Featuring more than meets the eye and flashing a dynamic rock sound, Möuth embrace both retro and modern influences, whipped into an infectious concoction of styles, ranging from Sabbathian lurches, doomy grooves, stoner vibes, and elements of psych, punk and hard rock. For the most part it works a treat, creating a welcome change of pace. Fuzzy, upbeat rockers (“Dirt,” “Appetite”) snugly reside amongst moody, psych-bending numbers (“Alike,” “Mantra”), and heavier doom-laden rock, such as powerful opener “Holy Ground,” and brooding, emotive album centerpiece, “Sheep.” Vocally, the passionate, Ozzy-esque croons hit the spot, matching up well to the band’s multi-pronged rock flavors. Compact and infectious, varied in delivery and featuring enough tasty rhythms, fuzzy melodies and rock punch to satisfy, Global Warning marks an intriguing starting point for these Swedish rockers.

Chaos Inception // Vengeance Evangel [February 21st, 2025 – Lavadome Productions]

Emerging from a deep slumber in the depths of the underground, Alabama’s long dormant death metal crew Chaos Inception returned with their first album since 2012’s The Abrogation. Third album Vengeance Evangel went under the radar, festering unclaimed in the promo sump. After the fact, the album’s crushing, controlled chaos smacked me upside the skull with a violent modern interpretation of the classic Floridian death metal sound, with the musty hues of Tucker-era Morbid Angel most prevalent. This is blast-riddled, relentless stuff, played expertly by the trio of Matt Barnes (guitars), Gray White (vocals) and session drummer Kevin Paradis (ex-Benighted). Incredibly dense, atmospheric, and blazingly fast, Vengeance Evangel is a brutal, knotty, technical hammering, punctuated by sick, wildly inventive soloing. While not traditionally catchy, Vengeance Evangel is the kind of intense, layered death metal album that gets under the skin, grafting a deeper impression across repeated listens. The insane tempo shifts, jigsaw arrangements, and wickedly deranged axework delivers big time. From the violent, intricate throes of opener “Artillery of Humwawa,” and disturbed soundscapes of “La Niebla en el Cementerio Etrusco,” through to the brutish grooves of ‘Thymos Beast,” and exotic, tech death shards of “Empire of Prevarication,” Vengeance Evangel does not neatly fit into any one subgenre category but ticks many boxes to cast a wide appeal to death fans of varied equations.

Steel Druhm’s Viscous Biscuits

Ereb Altor // Hälsingemörker [ February 7th, 2025 – Hammerheart Records]

Steel loves his epic metal. I was raised on the stirring odes to swordsmanship and ungovernable back hair from Manowar and Cirth Ungol, and in time, I took a place at the great table in Wotan’s Golden Halls to appreciate the Viking metal exploits of Bathory and later adherents like Falkenbach and Moonsorrow. Sweden’s Ereb Altor got in the game late with their epic By Honour debut in 2008, boasting a very Bathory-esque sound and emotional tapestry that felt larger-than-life and stirred the loins to begird themselves. 10th album Hälsingemörker is a glorious return to those halls of heroes and bravery. This is the large-scale songcraft first heard on Bathory albums like Hammerheart and Twilight of the Gods, and it’s most welcome to these ape ears. Cuts like “Valkyrian Fate” are exactly the kind of sweeping, epic numbers the band’s excelled at over the years. It takes the core sound of Viking era Bathory and builds outward to craft bombastic and heroic compositions that feel HUUUGE. It’s the kind of metal song that embiggens the soul and makes you want to take on a marauding horde by your lonesome and usurp all their battle booty. On “Hälsingemörker,” you get a fat dose of Moonsorrow worship, and elsewhere, Primordial is strongly referenced to very good effect. Hälsingemörker is easily the best Ereb Altor album in a while and the most in line with their beloved early sound. Strap on the sword and get after it!

#AmericanMetal #Arboreal #Benighted #BlackMetal #BlackSabbath #Blackgaze #BreathSunBoneBlood #Carnage #CausticPhlegm #ChaosInception #Chestcrush #ConcreteWinds #Coscradh #Covet #CrownOfMadness #Darkher #Deafheaven #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #DeathspellOmega #Demilich #DerangedExcruciations #DissonantDeathMetal #DustAge #EmbodimentOfDeath #ErebAltor #EverlastingSpewRecords #FolkMetal #GlobalWarning #Hälsingemörker #HellsHeadbangers #Impetigo #InHisBlood #Incantation #IrishMetal #JapaneseMetal #jizue #Karsikko #LavadomeProductions #MalignantWorthlessness #MathRock #MelodicBlackMetal #MemoriesFragmented #Metaphobic #MorbidAngel #Möuth #Myserion #Noctambulist #NoctambulistIIDeDroom #Noxis #OzzyOsbourne #Pissgrave #PostMetal #postPunk #ProfoundLoreRecords #PurulentApocalypse #RelapseRecords #Rock #SacredNoose #SelfRelease #SelfReleased #SermonOfFlames #Sparagmos #SwedishMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal #TerZiele #TeraMelos #Thantifaxath #TheHelicopters #TheseHandsMelt #TombMold #TranscendingObscurityRecords #UKMetal #Ulcerate #Vacuous #VanishingSpires #VengeanceEvangel #Vermilia #VultureSVengeance #終末回路 #終端から引き剥がす

Church of the Sea – Eva Review

By Tyme

I’ve often thought Adam’s rib-mate, Eve, got a bad rap. Led astray by the pesky serpent, Eve took that first bite of the fruit from the Forbidden Tree and shared it with her man. This act not only resulted in their expulsion from the Garden of Eden, but in Eve becoming traditionally branded as the original sinner, who eventually suffered the pains of childbirth as part of God’s consequence. Formed in 2017, and after releasing their debut album Odalisque in 2022, Greek doomgaze trio Church of the Sea has partnered with These Hands Melt to drop sophomore effort Eva, which aims to reimagine the story of Eve, celebrating her defiance and casting her in a different light. One not of sinner, but rebel, who willingly embraced what others consider ‘forbidden.’ I wondered what form Church of the Sea‘s doomgaze would manifest on Eva and whether it would have me reveling in Eve’s now reconstructed rebellion.

With zero expectations of what doomgaze should sound like, I was pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere Church of the Sea creates on Eva. Vangelis provides the doom, comprised chiefly of his sparse, spindly, and sometimes spooky guitar lines, while Alex rounds out the gaze of Eva’s instrumentation with subdued, synth-driven darkwave. Melodies undulate like roiling black seas under steel-grey skies, leaving me stranded on Darkher and REZN-filled waters, searching for salvation. Trent Reznor-inspired synth beats greet us on the first proper track, “The Siren’s Choice.” When the spider-like guitar notes and Irene’s sultry, velvety Shirly-Manson-meets-Sara-Bianchin vocals enter the fray, we get a glimpse of how powerful the doom of Church of the Sea‘s sound can be. This power is undeniable when fuzzy guitar chords coalesce with distorted synths to add heavyweight exclamation points throughout Eva‘s thirty-minute runtime, succeeding at creating a hypnotically hazy, drone-like, yet heavily doomy experience.

Each note on Eva means to satisfy the alpha waves of mind and body like a 432 Hz tone. From the Dead Can Dance meets Vermilia tribalism of “Eva,” with Irene’s native Greek vocals establishing a very folk-forward cadence, to the electronica dominant closer “How to Build a Universe, pt. II,” Eva is full of highlights. None more evident than the three-punch combo that starts with the very Darkher-inspired “Widow,” imbued with “Lowly Weep” vibes to the Bloody Hammers-like spookiness of “Garden of Eden,” where you can almost feel the snaky villain slithering toward our defiant and rebellious heroine. It’s not until the fateful lilts of “Churchyard” enter that the triptych at the apex of Church of the Sea‘s Eve story reveals itself, an ebb and flow, tension-packed track full of sanguine beats, ethereal vocals, and hard-hitting doom tones that find Eve defiantly accepting her role as the ‘mother of all living’ and embracing her newfound knowledge.

Church of the Sea creates music for certain moods, and Eva is no exception. More lulling than pulse-pounding, Eva’s hazy drone succeeds mostly by staying true to what it is and never attempting to stray from that mission. Songs plod, crawl, and cautiously sense their way through Church of the Sea‘s garden of Eva with arachnidic stealth. While stellar in its execution, this fact limits accessibility. This music will not energize you as much as it will have you delving into sub-plateaus of self-inquiry, lazing about in effortlessly created atmospheres. In an age where we admonish bloat and overly long opuses, my biggest quibble is that Eva is not long enough. Minus the two-minute intro, Eva clocks in at a scant twenty-eight minutes, and while I am quick to hit replay, I’m left wanting to hear more of what Church of the Sea has to offer.

April has been a month that could very well find me flung back into the n00b pit. I’ve stumbled on a string of releases I’ve really connected with. I chose Church of the Sea to diversify the kinds of albums I was grabbing, and much to my chagrin, I fell in love with it. Though short in stature and length, Eva is chock full of quality. Irene’s vocals mesmerize, and the guitar-synth combo is way heavier than it has any right to be. I know there will be albums in my future that I won’t connect with, and I anxiously await their arrival, but Church of the Sea‘s album Eva is not one of them. I recommend it fully, and I hope you check it out.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: These Hands Melt
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Apr25 #ChurchOfTheSea #Darkher #DeadCanDance #DoomMetal #Doomgaze #Eva #GreekMetal #Review #REZN #Shoegaze #TheseHandsMelt #Vermilia