German black/thrash/heavy metal trio Witching Hour return for your soul, eight long years since their last outburst ...and Silent Grief Shadows the Passing Moon. Alongside contemporaries like Nocturnal, Cruel Force, and Manzer, Witching Hour’s recent output has been well-received by critics and audiences alike. This puts the upcoming Decending… Where Time Has Ceased to Exist, Witching Hour’s fourth release in 20 years, in a prime position to compete well in its field. Will Descent… lead to greatness or will Witching Hour fumble the landing?

In some ways, they’ve threatened both. Witching Hour are an incredibly talented bunch, deftly straddling fences between black metal char, heavy metal righteousness, and thrash metal vitriol. Descending…’s warm and natural tones enhance these qualities, presenting a product that is easy on the ear while deadly to the spine. Songs build around long-form structures, with the shortest cut measuring over six minutes (not counting the fluffy instrumental intro), but overall runtime slots in at a tight 43 minutes. This makes repeat listens easy to approach. Sounds like everything is in place to secure a high score on the board, right?

Unfortunately, the songwriting lets Descending… down. Witching Hour’s latest epic suffers the same flaw as its predecessor: a lack of compositional dynamics and an overabundance of recycled parts. Each song taken out of the whole makes a compelling case. “Where Time Has Ceased to Exist” sets the bar quite high for the rest of the record, churning with a heavy metal swagger and roaring with spirit through epic leads, scorching tremolos, and thrashy switch-ups. Similarly, “Profane Resurrection of a Presumed Dead” hooks its claws into the brain with an insidious chorus bark and fiery guitar and percussion work. However, when unified as a whole, it’s all too easy to interchange phrases and measures between songs without fragmenting the experience. I can place my mark on two opposite sides—and stick a couple more pins in the center—and the same riffing motif, similar leads and flourishes, suspiciously familiar vocal runs, and the exact same bass-snare alternation greet me.

Doubly damning, epic 11-minute closer “…and Then Came the Flames” showcases all of these issues in a microcosm, establishing a concise summary of everything heard thus far. And just like the others, taken out of the album context, the song rocks. Reminiscent of the same kind of grand, hellish adventure that Bütcher so gloriously captures on 666 Goats Carry My Chariot, “…and Then Came the Flames” feels complete, exciting, and wild, at least at first. As the track progresses, recycled parts and pieces cheapen the experience until I’m desperate to jump off the boat as it reaches shore. This mirrors my experience with the album as a whole. Fun and entertaining in the initial throes, it becomes a slog to get through in remarkably short order. By the time the closer wraps up, I’ve heard multiple iterations of the same ideas, spliced and arranged to deceive me into believing, if only for a moment, that I could pick any of these songs (minus the opener proper) out of a lineup without a cheat sheet.

Confounding as it is, Witching Hour represents a clash between having great ideas and writing songs that don’t adequately support or develop them. Instead, Descending… drops their best work into a sea of repetitive structures and monotonous bloat in the hopes that observers might then discern and appreciate them. With at least a half dozen spins under my belt at the time of writing, I did indeed find worthy gems to take home—and when isolated from the collection, those gems really sparkle. However, those rewards don’t quite justify the expanse of fluff and drag that bog Descending… down. In another world where Witching Hour invoked a greater variety of techniques, tempos, and textures to fortify their compositions and bring reliability to excitement, this record would’ve been a barnburner. As it is, it never truly catches fire, and leaves me wanting.

Rating: Disappointing…
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

Cards on the table—this review is late. Really late. We got the promo, but it went unclaimed, and it wasn’t until I picked up Lynx’s Trinity of Suns for personal enjoyment that I listened. Before I finished my first spin, I knew I had to Filter it. And that’s exactly what I did. I sat down to write my 200ish words about Lynx’s sophomore album, and the words spilled out. Too many, actually. I described how every subsequent journey through Trinity of Suns deepens my appreciation for Lynx’s retro rock, and soon I realized I had more to say than a limited word count would allow. Over the last month, Lynx has enraptured me with their sultry siren song, entrenching Trinity of Suns as a mainstay for commutes and chores. Rather than saving it as a Thing You Might Have Missed, though, I dared to write the counter-breaking missive I hoped my betters would permit. I begged. I cajoled. I cashed in the scant favors and political capital I’ve accrued since joining the staff to get this thing published. Was it worth it? If you’re reading these words, you’re damn right it was.

Between releasing 2021’s Watcher of Skies and follow-up Trinity of Suns, Lynx underwent a transformation I can only describe as transcendent. Huck N Roll offered some pointed criticism for their debut, a slab of 70s hard rock worship in the vein of Thin Lizzy and Blue Öyster Cult. Specifically, Huck noted that the songwriting was as unrefined as guitarist Marvin Keifer’s vocal performance, and the wanton surfeit of cymbals debilitated the listening experience. Five years later, Lynx obliterates whatever expectations listeners set based on Watcher of Skies. Most notably, Trinity of Suns introduces Amy Zine as full-time lead vocalist1—a decision that catapults Lynx’s potential into the Skies. Just as importantly, though, Lynx displays more restraint and maturity in their arrangements to wonderful effect.

Though the core of Lynx’s identity remains the same, the band deftly incorporates inspirations to elevate their sound. Rather than relegating the best moments to snappy intros, Trinity of Suns steeps its compositions in throwback, classic rock drama. “Stranger Sign in the Sky” boasts a Rushified break that harkens to “By-Tor and the Snow Dog,” while “Oppressive Season” starts with an intro that could pass for a lost Jimmy Buffet cut before tumbling into a Thin Lizzy tizzy. “Seven Days of Darkness,” meanwhile, melds the majesty of Pink Floyd psychedelia with the soulful intimacy of Tanith’s starkest emotional moments, eliciting a warm, heartfelt fuzz that pairs perfectly with the desert-ready palette Lynx paints with. The resulting thirty-nine minutes simmer with subtle heat, proving how the songwriting has evolved over the last half-decade.

\In addition to more fluid song structures, Lynx unchains stunning performances across Trinity of Suns. Amy Zine’s smoky vocals cut to my core, whether she’s belting out head-bopping choruses (“Island Universe”) or caressing with a tender croon (“Seven Days of Darkness”), and I simply cannot get enough. Still, as fabulous as her contributions are,2 they don’t carry Trinity of Suns alone. Everyone else in Lynx pitches in with guitars, though they’re primarily supplied by Tim Künz and Janni Athanasiadis. In addition to his gorgeous acoustic twangs on “Seven Days of Darkness,” Franz Fesel ably commands drums from the pocket while Phil Helm rumbles with luxurious yet understated bass. Honestly, Lynx’s low-end locks into such powerful grooves that Trinity of Suns would be undermined and underserved with a lesser performance, and if you need any convincing, go listen to the back-to-back tandem of “Oppressive Season” and “Trinity of Suns.”

Lynx is a band that understands the assignment, and Trinity of Suns should be enough to convince anyone that this kitty has claws. My only unfulfilled desire from Trinity of Suns is a three-minute banger nestled after “Voyager” or “Oppressive Season” where the entire band goes hog-fucking-wild. “Oppressive Season” comes closest, though holds back enough to avert the pandemonium I crave. With the talent Lynx brandishes, I’d love to hear them cut completely loose. Otherwise, Trinity of Suns accomplishes everything I want from a band of Lynx’s ilk, and each time “Island Universe” concludes, I’m left even more smitten. Whatever these cats do next, I’ll be there.

Rating: Great!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Moin am Donnerstag Headnagers Ballroom letzte Sendung, danach geh ich in Sommerpause bis Anfang September. Also die letzte Chance meine liebliche Stimme zu hören. Mit dabei ne Menge neuer kram, natürlich Männermukke is ja Vattttttertach

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Am Dienstag Live on Air mit Mambo Kurt ab 19.30 Uhr auf Radio Crosstime im Headbangers Ballroom

https://laut.fm/crosstime

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#radiocrosstime
#dyingvictimsproductions
#metal
#metalradio
#oberhausen
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#metalhead
#metalgirl
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#thrashmetal
#blackmetal
#rock
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#powermetal
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Rocking the same lineup since 2016, Helsinki foursome Chalice returns to serve up their sophomore offering, Divine Spear. Debut Trembling Crown dropped at the tail-end of 2020, and just over five years later, its follow-up retains Chalice’s essence while evolving the previous album’s rugged character. Where Trembling Crown rumbles with a raucous vigor, Divine Spear more often exudes a silky, polished sheen, enlivening its tracks with slick guitars, a vibrant production, and Jethro Tullian flourishes. The brew may have matured, but the core ingredients remain the same—so let us quaff from the Chalice and see if the draught is divine enough to raise our spears!

Chalice covers a variegated landscape of inspirations on Divine Spear, drawing from the realms of heavy metal and hard rock. Especially refreshing about Chalice’s ingestion of influences is their ability to seamlessly weave homage into their songs. “Hollow Curtain,” for instance, radiates top-Týr charisma throughout verse and chorus, with vocalist Verneri Benjamin Pouttu sustaining notes that echo Heri Joensen’s longship-ready croon. Later in the song, particularly in the solo, the marrow of Iron Maiden crackles with a guitar tone ripped from Brave New World. This modus operandi holds true throughout the album, whether it’s the Ian Anderson flute toots in “Empyrean Liturgy,” the “Aqualung”-coded solo from “Age Ethereal,” or the Pink Floydian psychedelia of “Alioth,” which is redolent of “Comfortably Numb” and patchouli. Despite the diverse calls to other bands, Chalice’s magic on Divine Spear lies in blending inspirations into a cohesive whole, taking the sounds of influences and knitting them into a unified platter informed by muses rather than mimicking them.1

Divine Spear by Chalice

Aiding the lush instrumentation on Divine Spear, Chalice nails the production and mix. The dynamic range boasts an impressive score, and while that doesn’t guarantee a great soundscape,2 it proves true here. Divine Spear sounds incredible throughout its forty-eight minutes, regardless of whether I’m listening in my car, through my headphones, or on my phone speaker.3 The six-string tandem of Mikael Cristian Haavisto and guitarist/vocalist Pouttu is especially arresting, from the twists and chugs of “Dwell of a Stellar Trance” to the acoustic warbles in “Mare Imbrium” and “Empyrean Liturgy.” Chalice’s rhythm section also avails itself niftily, never quite in the spotlight but handily hammering away in service of the songs. Drummer Olli Törrönen rarely reaches fever pitch, but neither is he content to remain planted in the pocket, loosing a quick fill here and a double-kick roll there. No moment ever feels compressed or too busy, and the overarching aural experience goes down as smooth as Joni Adrian Petander’s bass.4

Offsetting the myriad reasons to love Divine Spear, Chalice’s subtle songwriting occasionally suppresses what could be an even better album. Divine Spear is rife with variety, both in pacing and instrumentation, but while satisfyingly spirited moments dot the experience, too often I feel like Chalice holds back rather than capitalizing on big moments. According to the Bandcamp page, the band delivers ‘poignant shifts into cleaner, quieter territory, truly heightening the drama.’ This rings true, but composing livelier moments, particularly on “Empyrean Liturgy” and “Alioth,” could elevate songs by imbuing atmospheres with a contrast that ratchets up tension rather than maintaining a subdued pace for six minutes. And speaking of runtimes, every now and again, song durations on Divine Spear push past what’s needed. Other than “Age Ethereal,” whose eight minutes could be significantly trimmed, Chalice does well not going far past tracks’ expiration dates. Still, tightening them up would engender greater results.

In total, Chalice proves their interpretation of trad metal works as well through a gentler lens as it does on their rough-and-tumble debut. The choruses catch, the riffs hook, and the music feels familiar and novel all at once, eliciting an engaging encounter that rewards multiple listens. A few small adjustments could make an immediate and outsized impact, though I have to emphasize that, even as is, Divine Spear merits a listen. There’s no doubt Chalice possesses a winning recipe, and I hope we don’t have to wait quite so long for their next effort. Until then, Divine Spear’s formulation is plenty Good enough.

Rating: Good!
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

This year has already kicked off in thrash-tastic fashion. We’ve seen new releases from the likes of Megadeth, Exodus, and Kreator, with Anthrax and more on the way. A quick check of my thrash bingo card shows that, by the end of the year, at least half of the “Big 4”1 will have dropped new records, with many of the honorable-mention heavyweights joining the fray. While we wait for the next boot to drop, we turn our attention to Würzburg, Germany’s Zerre, one of modern thrash’s promising upstarts. Their debut, Scorched Souls, was a Metallica-meets-Municipal Waste slab of old-school aggression loaded with crossover, beer-chugging grooves. Taking the foundations of their debut, Rotting on a Golden Throne finds Zerre tearing through nine tracks with a sharpened sense of purpose—more aggressive, more political, and more sadistic than its predecessor. And let me tell you, it delivers in spades. I hope you’re thirsty for some tallboys, because thrash is still on the menu.

Forging their songwriting into material that’s meaner, tighter, and far more assured, Rotting on a Golden Throne shines with the violently tempered alloy of classic thrash and modern crossover’s street-level grit that never lets its energy wane. Heavily steeped in Municipal Waste’s party chaos and …And Justice for All’s rapid, surgical picking, Zerre also imbues the album with Power Trip’s coarseness, Anthrax’s stomping swagger (“Killing Taste”) and the frantic wails of Slayer (“No Alibi,” “Deception of the Weak”). Riffs hit in relentless waves, with raw aggression spilling over into massive, replay-ready grooves, while strategically placed interludes are woven directly into the album’s 40-minute runtime rather than sliced off as filler (“Mental Vacation,” “Rotting on a Golden Throne”). This smart choice gives Rotting on a Golden Throne a more cohesive flow and breaks up the record’s accelerated attack just enough to keep things elastic. Zerre delivers it all seamlessly, with a dialed‑up piss‑and‑vinegar attitude that hits you right between the eyes.

Rotting on a Golden Throne by Zerre

Neck-snapping riffs abound on Rotting on a Golden Throne, driven by Zerre’s full-throttle dual axe attack of Dominik Bertelt and Rocco Lepore. The two throw their weight around effortlessly with hyperspeed picking mixed with trilling, power cord syncopations, whammy dives, and a metric ton of technical solos. After the “Battery”-inspired acoustic intro, “Pigs will be Pigs” fires the first shot with blistering runs that give way to a soaring melodic solo, while “Deception of the Weak” counters with sharp twin harmonies and nimble hammer‑ons and pull‑offs. Even the slower approach of “Concrete Hell” packs a punch and “Tin God” seals the deal with a squealing, tapping frenzy that illustrates how purposefully Zerre uses solos—coupled with keen songwriting—to drive the record’s peaks. The Nordic folk lick stretching out into intertwining leads in “Mental Vacation” is also a pleasant surprise, as is the power metal riff in the self-titled track, proving that when these guys branch out of their comfort zone, they do so tastefully and with restraint rather than veering off into left field.

Vocalist Nick Ziska2 brings a feral edge to Zerre’s sound. His performance swings between Tom Araya‑styled screams (“No Alibi”) and a Riley Gale-esque snarling mid‑range, anchoring Rotting on a Golden Throne’s songs with a serrated bark that sounds abrasive and weathered, yet still clear enough to slice through the chaos. Zerre’s songwriting leans heavily on gang vocals, and while they’re a clear fallback move, they inject a sense of rowdy fun that magnifies Ziska’s lyrics and makes the choruses instantly hooky. Ziska takes the lead, and the rest of the crew pile in behind him, creating shout-along moments that demand listener participation. Lyrically, Rotting on a Golden Throne sticks to thrash’s customary grievances—anti-police sentiment, prison system disdain and broad political ire—but these tropes feel less like a crutch and more like part of the total package, reinforcing the album’s scrappy, kinetic energy.

Talking about this album in the staff lounge, our resident Reaper categorized Rotting on a Golden Throne as one of the best straight-up thrash records of the year so far, and I couldn’t agree more. Detractors may point to Zerre’s stylistic touchstones as a mere recombination of established genre language, and while they wouldn’t be wrong, I don’t care. Zerre has dropped an album that embodies everything I want my thrash to be. Rotting on a Golden Throne is bursting with energy, aggression, groove, and a sense of unfiltered fun. It’s a combination that’s hard to find in today’s thrash metal landscape, and it’s one that’s worth raising a beer for.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: dyingvictimsproductions.bandcamp.com/album/rotting-on-a-golden-throne | facebook.com/zerre.thrash
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Am Donnerstag werd ich eure Stahlherzen zum leuchten bringen .......

Songschnipsel Red Fun - Midnight Stranger

https://laut.fm/crosstime

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In 2019, English retro metal maniacs Aggressive Perfector came out of nowhere to blindside me with a nasty mash-up of classic 80s metal, speed, and quasi-blackened evil called Havoc at the Midnight Hour. It was an endearing nostalgia ride through the early days of extreme metal, stealing body parts from Venom, Mercyful Fate, and beef-brained thrashers like Rigor Mortis and Nasty Savage. It was rough around every single edge, but it packed the same kind of past-obsessed punch as Deceased and made me love it. It took these sonic miscreants some time to get back in the marketplace with new material, but Come Creeping Fiends promises to have everything from the debut turned up to 12.5 and then some. And in this, they aren’t fibbing. This is another slab of over-the-top excess in the name of unholy overkill, and it sounds like a bunch of local bar bands covering Venom’s early material after too many shots of Jägermeister. That’s a good thing, right? RIGHT??

If you like your metal loud, unhinged, but oddly melodic and catchy, you came to the right Satanic mass. Opener “Dead Undead” is a wild and woolly smush of Venom and early Mercyful Fate with some Desaster crammed in to see if the mixture explodes. It does. This thing is hairier than Yours Steely with a full midvinter pelt, and just as fragrant. It’s not far from the usual Deceased output, and frontman Dan Chainsaw (formerly Dan Holocausto) sounds a whole lot like the legendary King Fowley as he roars, rages, and retches against the dying of the light (and the closure of the All-You-Can-Eat $8 buffet at King Egg Dynasty Kitchen). His vocal excess is excessive, and it’s laid on top of a weird collection of traditional, thrash, and NWoBHM guitar segments without much thought given to how well it fits or doesn’t. You go from a Sodom or Desaster riff one minute to something from Motörhead’s Another Perfect Day era, and though this hodge-podge recipe seems ill-advised, it works, and the song is stupid, brainless fun. “Strange Companion” sounds like a lost hit from Deceased, and I loved it the moment it assaulted my ear sockets. It’s bombastic but melodic and memorable, though you should never try to sing along with it in public, ever. “Fiend in You” keeps the strange times rolling with a number that’s hooky and hard rocking but extremely confrontational vocally. It reminds me of the days I worked for my older brother doing construction during summers in High School, and basically just got screamed at for 10 hours a day. I like it anyway, though!

“Obscene Cult” robs Candlemass blind of the riff from “Bewitched” and repurposes it for much nastier deeds done way cheaper than dirt. You won’t be able to unhear “Bewitched,” so it sounds like some absolute nutter is screaming over the song about Satanic masses and corpse defilement. “Harlot’s Curse” is the most ambitious track in that it dumps the most 80s influences into the smoothie machine, hoping for a new taste sensation. You’ll hear about 20 bands you know by heart in the riffing and song structure, but somehow it all coagulates into a functional song of its own. Penultimate cut “Return of the Axe” deserves special praise as the most frenzied and unstable track, thrashing and bashing for all its worth. It’s a silly but captivating piece of caveman metal, and I can’t help but want to adopt and raise it as my offspring. At a tight, no-blubber-allowed 30 minutes, Come Creeping Fiends rip rides over you like a nitro-fueled earthmover. You will be flattened, and you will enjoy it.

Aggressive Perfector make a lunatic racket, and the best parts come from the guitarwork by Dan Chainsaw and drummer/guitarist/keyboardist, Intimidator. These goons are like a living codex of 80s metal riffs and harmonies, and they regurgitate the olden sounds in strange new patterns to craft wildly entertaining tunes. The thrash leads are nice, but it’s the classic metal lines that really shake my lizard brain. Every track has at least one riff that activates my inner teenage idiot, and I appreciate that. Vocally, Dan Chainsaw goes all in, getting himself committed to the nervous hospital with his insane screams, rasps, roars, and unusual attempts at “singing.” Medically speaking, the dude has some screws loose in his tonsils, but wow, is it fun to hear him come unglued.

Come Creeping Fiends takes the chassis of the debut and welds spikes, spears, and buzzsaw blades all over it. It will harm all who listen, but in productive, character-building ways. If you have non-metal-loving friends, trap them in an enclosed space and force this on them loudly as you watch their panic and terror. This is what is best in life! Let these creeping fiends in and see how it goes.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims
Websites: aggressiveperfector.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/aggressiveperfectorband | instagram.com/aggressiveperfector
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026