If the competition’s running sideways shouldn’t Harkonen proceed straight? While they’re at it, Harkonen (whatever the fuck that means) easily seize the Dumb Song Title Award for the year so far with "All this Time I Thought Your Name Was Cool Dude," followed closely by "Introducing The Creeker Sneaker," and "The Burly Spur." Shake Harder Boy is textbook hardcore metal for people very accustomed to it. And people who hate surprises too. (2/10)

With Goremageddon, Aborted have not only made what is perhaps the best death metal album of the year, but are also upholding the tenets of Buddhist philosophy. A tall order? Let’s examine more closely.

Aborted’s music always lives in the moment, keeping the listener engaged throughout all its fury and finesse. And good goregrind is like good Buddhist practice - it lives for the present. It’s all about what’s going on now. You don’t look at the music separated by track numbers as songs, but rather as a bunch of great little moments, which are in this case changes, grooves, starts and stops.

Ok, it’s true that a bunch of these moments on track 6 are very Carcass-influenced, as are the clips about how to use a hand saw during brain surgery. But Aborted’s greatest strength has nothing to do with being absolutely original, but rather how the tools are applied.

Goremageddon is rabid, thrilling and fun, and is essential listening for all death metal fans. (9.6/10)

Quiz: What happens when you mix a bloom of testosterone with psychoactive drugs and lots of Jack Daniels? The answer lies in this classically named CD, Zoloft Smile…

Even the CD cover fills me with feelings of alienation and latent, spun out social maladjustment. I’m not sure if this is as serious as it sounds, but if it is, someone should tell this guy not to mix his shrink doses with other downers and god knows what. I’d be surprised if they made it through another tour.

WOW… this is the pure distillation of death punk with no sense of humor. It makes me want to cut myself and let it bleed, watch it drip with some expanded sense of self-importance.

This is about decay, despair, drugs, and did I hear "prior convictions"? This is apparently their fourth CD, which makes me think that 16 is working the venue rather than losing "the urge to save themselves." It takes a lot of work and perseverance to cut these CD’s. Somebody over there must have their hands on the wheel.

Where I can appreciate the need to share a violently disturbed psyche in order to get help – 16 just want you to go down with them. I resist and I head into the bathroom to wash my ears out with soap. (3.5/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

Rather than shooting you in the head, Admortem are content with making little gashes and letting the blood ebb out of your body slowly. No, I don’t mean to say that they are not brutal. Just don’t expect instant salvation from them as this is a death metal album that is going to grow on you gradually.

There is a lot of pace variation on offer here, from Cannibal Corpse-like fast hammer-on riffs to spiteful, lurching grooves. The solos are few in number but they have to be talked about; they are just like the little gems that the new Vital Remains album is filled with.

Living Through Blood belongs to the rare of group of albums that actually get better towards the end. Check out the riffing to "Severely Mentally Retarded" or "The Plastisurgist," and if that doesn’t make you headbang, don’t bother checking for a pulse. And this is exactly the thing that makes this album such a specialty: aggression, technicality and beauty are merged together seamlessly.

Oh, there are *some* bonus tracks too. Not one, not two, not three either, but TWELVE! Taken from a show dating back to 1999, these tracks have a pretty good sound, except for the drums, which sound a bit muffled. Of course the whole thing cannot be digested in one sitting, as there is about 70 minutes of music on offer here, but you will find yourself coming back to this album for more very frequently. (7.5/10)

Each copy of Agalloch’s recently released 7" EP is hand numbered and signed by a member of the band. For me, it was quite a surprise, not to say a disappointment: Agalloch’s expression of existential pondering, abysmal mourning and natural sublimation doesn’t exactly match the concept of intermingling within the world of collector’s items and music memorabilia. When one is engaged with desperately seeking a tangible essence for one’s being, a commercial rarity should be viewed as rather superfluous and insignificant.

Unfortunately, containing an alternate version of the short opening track of Agalloch’s latest album, The Mantle, and another instrumental recorded during the sessions of the same album, the musical contents of the record don’t have much to offer in terms of legitimate artistic justification for its release. The former features no added value whatsoever to the original album version. The latter, titled "Tomorrow Will not Come," being yet another moody, melancholic extraction of the maturing Agalloch, shifting from their youthful outbursts of externalized, aggressive wintry tragic-heroic desperation to a mature phase of acoustic autumnal melancholy, is a track that could have easily been included on the full LP from 2002.

Unlike most of the band’s material, which is usually composed by Haughm, this one was composed by Anderson – being mostly noticable due to the dominant presence of TV/Movie samples, a well-known attribute of his own Sculptured project.

The most notable effect created by the EP is the affirmation of the classification of Agalloch as an atmospheric, conceptual band (perhaps defining a new sub-genre - AOADM - Album Oriented Acoustic Dark Metal?). Not delivering much local innovations within each of their seperated tracks, their greatness stems from their ability to intertwine enshrouding textures, brilliantly depicting a crystalized manner of world perception, and allowing the listener to share it. At their best, Agalloch even forces the listener to be carried away by it.

When one has only two, relatively short instrumental tracks to absorb, the effect and capibility of such emotional assimilation is much lessened. The listener, not being able to become fully absorbed within the excruciated, contemplative world of Agalloch, may merely commit an external valuation of concrete compositions, which, again, are not the greatest merit of the band.

Therefore, Agalloch’s music is to be consecutively experienced and gradually submerged in, never distantly viewed in non-cohesive snippets, an ideal obviously impossible to be achieved within the limitation of the 7 "EP medium, rendering this release, even if not musically flawed, rather insipid nevertheless, somehow needlessly lotting the band’s name .

Well, at least, should I fall into Nihil, I will at least have a hand numbered, signed, exclusive item to accompany me on the way. (5/10)

All Out War is kick ass metalcore. No, seriously, it’s all about kicking ass. The music is heavy, brutal, macho, and aggressive. It’s non-stop metal riffing and aggro, muscular drums with screaming, croaking vocals, and a few blazing, Slayer like solos for some variety.

But the variety ends there. While Condemned to Suffer does have all the qualities described above, it’s the same song 12 times in an album where the same song six times would have been enough. And if tough guy metal makes you go "bleh," then you won’t be thrilled about spending any money on this. But angry manly men abound in the extreme music audience, and they’ll dig it. (6.5/10)

review by: Jason Thornberry

These guys have scary tattoos, sweaty live shows, and lyrics about dwelling in misery, being raped by political thieves, shedding countless tears, blood, filth, pain, and a myriad of other nasty things that gave you nightmares when you were eight . Nowadays it's an almost numbing sensory overload of clichés. Calculated resentment simply makes for one boring listening experience, regardless of how well it's ever executed musically, which is, sadly, the case on Condemned to Suffer.

For the impatient amongst us, Olden represents two years in the evolution of 16 Horsepower compressed into 70-some minutes. It’s just like one of those speeded-up films of seeds growing into flowers playing on the Discovery Channel. If you’ve yet to be acquainted with the band, they’d be represented on the musical island of Dr. Moreau by fiendishly grafting the lyrical concerns of Nick Cave (God, Sin, Redemption, the Book of Job, "…did I leave the gas on?") onto an effects-pedal-less Modest Mouse. Basically, they’re a gifted band with a talented frontman: there’s really no-one else in the contemporary musical landscape that can slouch towards Bethlehem with the same intensity.

But enough of the band…what about Olden? Weeeelllll…I have to admit that I’m not really sure what to make of it. You get two separate six-song radio sessions and a six-song live set (Get it? 6 songs, followed by 6 songs, followed by 6 songs…look, it’s frickin’ 666, ok? I tried to play the CD in reverse to check if it contained my own personal message from Satan, but only managed to sprain my index finger. Damn you, 16 Horsepower!). There are never-before-released tracks ("Train Serenade"), alternate versions of the same track ("American Wheeze" is represented twice). You get the picture.

And the result? The first session dates all the way from 1993, and is really only remarkable for how damn flat and lifeless most of the songs sound. Songs that should be thundering out of the speakers are handicapped by an incredibly narrow dynamic range, making the session sound amateurish and bootlegged. Luckily, by the second radio session the band have found an engineer who understands the difference between coffee breaks and moving EQ switches, and the songs find space to breathe.

However, by the time the live set spins round, you’ll either be thinking "Great – now I must go back and listen to all my original 16HP records and compare the differences to these versions," or "hmmm…maybe I should buy the damn originals because the sound on these isn’t much cop."

And that’s it, really. I threw you all a curveball when I said that this record represented the flowering of a young band – in reality, the band’s early recordings sound frighteningly accomplished. We’re denied the chance to really see the genesis of 16HP, the fossil record that must lie somewhere beyond these sessions. Not quite the Creation, then, but good enough for a… (7/10)

First off, you gotta love a CD with cover art like that. Looking like a mix between Where the Wild Things Are and the work of Hans Memling (whose "Last Judgement" painting is on, like, *ten* metal album covers), it signals that Atrox, be it good or bad, will certainly be weird. And in our book, weird always counts for a few points toward being good.

Further inspection leads us to the back of the record, which is in full blown Maurice Sendak mode. Six hand drawn caricatures of the band are represented, each with a silly theme. "Batrox" has them as bats, "Fatrox" as being overweight, etc... Off the wall, but unique and strangely alluring in this case.

And Atrox is weird, albeit not weird in the way we expected. We thought we’d get some kind of ultra-dark and blazing black metal fuckery, but rather, Atrox is, for lack of a better word, sort of an arty, jazzy band. But one that plays solid, technical metal.

Atrox sounds like The Third and the Mortal smashing into Meshuggah, with the Gathering singing a line here and there. The vocals sound very similar to The Third’s Ann-Mari Edvardsen, complete with wacky vocal spasms that trail off into the distance. Most specifically, Orgasm has a lot of the weird qualities that The Third’s In this Room album has, except it’s good.

So you’ll get excellent, acrobatic clean vocals with lots of odd times. It’s not as alien in a mechanical sounding way as Meshuggah, but frankly, it outdoes that popular Swedish band in that the songs here are distinct from one another. There’s a lot of depth to Orgasm, whose worst point seems to be the not so well chosen album title. And unlike most of the progressive, jazzy bands that play heavy music, Atrox doesn’t stumble over its motives in the way to making a likeable record. In fact, it’s pretty damn great. (8.1/10)

In the booklet of their latest release, Arcane Art (a project led by Karsten Hamre, also the mind behind Penitent) claims that KritaRan is "a document with no sound barriers." Also featured is a short poem dealing with the self-indulgent conquest lurking in the shadows behind every form of personal sacrifice. Ironically, the achieved impact of the album itself is nearly polar to these. Be it done knowingly or not by its creators, <KritaRan> features little more then a deification of time as the imposing, ruling element of our existence, and the consequential diminution of the importance and significance of human feelings, tradition and values. In fact, it is done quite intriguingly.

The music of Arcane Art is composed of a repetitive, sluggishly altered industrial beats, overlain by synthesized sound layers (produced mostly by keyboards, bass, and heavily effected guitar) of a rather limited depth. The overall output sounds like a distorted variation of repetitive, primitive tribal music. The presiding beat imperturbably marches forward, dictating every notable aspect of evolvement in the frame of musical scenery, rendering the other expressive dimensions insignificant and negligible. While the varying themes presented by the varying instruments and sounds may change and evolve, flourish or wither, the meaning of all is constantly lessened, remaining subordinated to the formidable progression of time.

Nevertheless, In spite of the alleged diversity, they all bear similar influential attributes: meek self obliteration in the shade of  advancing time, delivering the desperate tidings of our finitude.

Arcane Art weave soundscapes according to which the axis of time doesn't interrupt or spoil us; we are simply meaningless derivatives of it, being defined by it. KritaRan confronts the listener with the sense of his misleading illusion, impelling him to face the unbearable truth: The actual, ultimate tribe is humanity; its continuous tradition is null.

Nonetheless, the release does bare a few shortcomings, preventing it from being a truly wholesome creation. Strangely, the album is divided to seven chapters. Now, as I described, the strongest message conveyed by the music is the vanity of any of the specific tales we encounter along the path of our existence. So, while supposedly shifting atmosphere with the autonomic realm of every chapter, they axiomatically fail to express a tangible, emotional essence: after making one realize that his humanistic agenda is intrinsically false, any attempt to submerge and involve him within a continuous, concrete narrative is vain, not to say farcical. Therefore, after successfully conveying an intellectual agenda negating the value of feelings, attempting to base upon it an expression dealing with such is bound to an inevitable failure. As ideologically impressive as it may be, listening to the whole album (nearly one hour long) is, to be honest, quite boring.

All in all, the latest release by Arcane Art is an interesting, thought provoking effort, worthy of observance and analysis. Still, in order to reach true greatness, they will have to resolve the paradox of endowing the tidings of indifference with more interesting and attractive traits. (6/10)

"Northern warriors have mounted their horses and prepared for journey to the ancient world of Sword and Magic. They'll ride towards an eternal struggle of good and evil, where blades thirst for blood and axes leave enemies' faces mutilated."

That little tid-bit will give you a good idea what to expect on this release. Although Battlelore are not a straight AD&D power metal band, they come pretty damn close. The only things different are the more "gritty" sounding guitars, both in production and play, the clever use of vocals and perhaps the non-epic proportioned songs (not one over five minutes).

Battlelore features not only a male vocalist, but as you can guess, also a female vocalist. The two together could make for an interesting combination if it weren’t for the fact that clean female vocals in this type of music is extremely tedious. The male vocals, however, are a nice touch, no hyper-falsetto singing but instead a nice mixture of DM grows and BM shrieking.

The songs are all memorable in some way or another, none of the songs becomes overly boring and some actually feature interesting musical moments.

If you fancy clobbering evil trolls over the head with a mace while riding your big, white steed to victory with the complimentary warm-blooded maiden, then I suggest you ride on over to the nearest CD shop and buy this release. (7/10)

Okay, first things first. Beloved US? C'mon. Adding your country of origin to your band name is SO LAME. Is Beloved such a kick ass name and are you so well known as Beloved that you couldn't come up with a new name? Unlikely.

That said. This is pretty great stuff. This may be metalcore, but downright pretty little arpeggios send this careening into serious EMO territory with keening sad/mad boy vocals and melodies melodies MELODIES! Occasionally the guitars churn violently and the vocals slip into throat shredding metalcore howls, but things get all pretty again right quickly.

Think Get Up Kids, Sunny Day Real Estate, or any of the current crop of MTV heavy emo heart throbs, with a little bit of a harder edge. But only a little. Fans of Evergreen Terrace, Poison the Well, Between the Buried and Me (and the like) who are in the mood for something a little lighter may find this hits the spot. Plus they can use this record as poppier bait to try and lure their metal hating significant others into the fold. Woooohaaahaaaaaa (sinister laugh). (7/10)

This CD starts off with a small industrial piece not unlike to the intro to the Gerbe of Life split with Repudiate. Thereafter, the fare churned out by this band turns out to be a well balanced mixture of brutal death metal and melodic black metal riffing, like what you might get if you cross Aurora Borealis with Neuraxis.

A lot of articles about this album have been mentioning Marduk as a keyword, but I found little in common between the two except for the song "Aversion Fanatique," which starts off in a very similar fashion to some instrumental track on the La Grande Danse Macabre album of Marduk.

The really good thing about this album is that the melodic parts are majestic and the brutal parts are really brutal. The guitar work is absolutely fantastic, with fast picked fleeting riffs interspersed with fast palm muted riffs and some nice solos thrown in for good measure. The drumming is pretty varied, with a lot of different beats being employed during the slower parts, and it’s blast beats galore time when the songs speed up. Vocals alternate between harsh black metal rasps and gutteral growls and both these style are mixed up quite well.

Frankly, hearing this French band was a big surprise because I had never heard of them before, and it’s always a pleasure to be blown away by such a band. (8/10)

It’s one thing when a band can do something really well. It’s quite another when a band attempts to do more than one thing, and pulls it all off masterfully.

Such is the case with Between the Buried and Me’s The Silent Circus. It’s largely a metalcore album, but it leans very heavily to a technical death metal side. However, despite not being entirely death metal, The Silent Circus ironically outdoes nearly any band trying to uphold the established framework of the genre.

The Silent Circus’ aggressive pieces shift and rage in a way that is nothing short of delicious. Each minute part is brilliant, and the incredible transitions that piece the parts together will make you chuckle in disbelief. Also, the drums are not triggered, which is refreshing to say the least. It’s nice to hear blast beats and intense technical drumming organically.

And it’s precisely how Between the Buried and Me *don’t* stick to the death metal framework, while still performing entirely original music that couldn’t be confused as anything but, that yields success. Clearly, this is one band that doesn’t limit its appreciation to any one style. So you’ll get riffs that fit in comfortably with death metal and metalcore, but then out of nowhere a melody of purest constitution arises. Then, a riff straight out of a power metal album. The vocals are split about half and half between an organic, growly tone and one more identifiable with metalcore. But, again, odd and welcome variations show up, like fuzzed out, fucked up screams.

And we haven’t even told you about the half of it yet. For about a third of The Silent Circus is as far removed from metal and aggression as you can imagine. Interspersed amongst the raging constructions are calm, soft, emotional songs, ones with singing. And the singing is GOOD. And if that wasn’t enough, track five, "Reaction," is an ambient piece of ebbing, soothing guitar drone of *the* highest order. "Wow" doesn’t even begin to cover it.

It takes real guts to make an album like this. We’re serious. It takes guts to make an album that’s as brutal and crushing as The Silent Circus can be, but also not be afraid to show the band’s sensitive side. Death metal bands have toed over ever so slightly in this territory in the form of disconnected acoustic guitar pieces, but that’s as far as they’ll go. Between the Buried and Me go the distance, bearing their hearts and minds, as well as bearing their muscles.

Glancing at the booklet makes us realize that maybe we should be paying more attention to lyrics in general. And it’s no surprise that The Silent Circus’ lyrics are as deep as its music. Again, metal lyrics are almost always to be skipped over, but when an album like this can also make you think with its lyrical eloquence, clarity and creativity, then it’s just another big feather in the cap.

The Silent Circus is best death metal. Great emo. Super indie rock. Wonderful ambient. All in one. And not only is it possibly my pick for album of the year, it’s without a doubt THE best metalcore record. EVER. Period. (10/10)

It’s good that Beyond Dawn has ditched the plan to become the second coming of The Swans. I mean, their last record, In Reverie, was great. It sounds like a lost Swans album, right down to the vocals. But why be a perfect copy of someone else when you can be yourself?

Beyond Dawn has re-invented itself plenty of times. And Frysh is a major renewal. This time, the music is laid back rock/electronica with surf elements. Sometimes it’s kind of like the Mermen kicked out their drummer, bought a beat box and moved to Norway. But then other times it’s a lot like Manes latest record, Vilosophe - a monumental renewal in itself - but slowed down in speed and intensity.

Frysh peaks early on song 3, "Among the Sedatives," which sounds like sitting on an impossibly idyllic, videogame beach while bubble gum bubbles pop all around you. And the xylophone is way cool. The next track is another good one, with an atmosphere a lot like U2's "Where the Streets Have no Name." But for the remainder of Frysh’s 10 tracks, there’s nothing as good as those two songs.

Unfortunately, Frysh’s 66 odd minutes are perhaps too long for the album’s depth. The middle chunk of the record becomes more and more austere and electronic. A soft, whispery track breaks up the mood, after which Beyond Dawn create imagery in which you can really see the waves roll in on a Hawaii ocean side at 5 PM.

Despite its shortcomings, Frysh is an interesting CD to pick up, especially if you’ve been a fan of Beyond Dawn’s progression. The packaging is really cool, coming in a unique jewel case with eye-catching art. Sure the album could be tighter, but the filler, as filler goes, is high quality. (7.8/10)

The sound of Devil Worship, Black Trinity`s official debut to the scene, is slightly above rehearsal quality. The album leaves no doubt that some really bad boys came together to play the world to a pile of ashes, but good (bad) intentions do not yet make up a good album.

The material consists largely of relentless single chord slamming, with average bass lines and drum work. True, not yet a reason to write it off, but in terms of originality, though, Devil Worship doesn`t have much to offer. And this can, as it seems, largely be attributed to the limited technical capabilities of the band members.

Not recommendable to buy, but probably worth to check out their live performances in your local youth club... (1/10)

Just what is metalcore, anyway? I don’t even know anymore. You can’t miss the sticker on the Bleeding Through jewel case proclaiming it the most talked about metalcore album "of the new millennium." (Any bets as to when that phrase will stop being used?)

But metalcore seems to be more about the metal and less about the ‘core. Bleeding Through certainly is. In fact, through the album’s first two songs (one of which is called "Sweet Vampirous"), Bleeding Through sounds like this exploding genre called metalcore, crashing into Dimmu Borgir.

But as the keyboards take a break around the middle of the record, the scales tip more toward the ‘core. Riffs that vaguely sound Swedish, rough, hardcore vocals. Then the Dimmu feeling comes back, thrown in with a bit of Cradle of Filth, too.

And Bleeding Through play this up a bit in their image. Six members, Gothy eye makeup, sex and bloodletting. The pictures of blood splatters and an attractive young couple nonchalantly holding guns amongst revolting carnage makes This is Love, This is Murderous look like the Tarantino metalcore album. And with the lyrics about how the singer will get revenge on all the people who hurt him, Bleeding Through would fit right in on the upcoming "Kill Bill" movies. (7.5/10)

Blood Has Been Shed comes storming out of the gates like Nile’s metalcore playing brother, them slams into crushing grooves. But the band throws wrenches into the gears that had built up so much steam in such a short time - nearly bringing the record to a dead halt on several occasions.

Clean vocals that no metal fan could possibly like – randomly melodic vocalizations on top of start/stop riffs scream out, "Hey! Have you noticed we’ve got a black guy in our band?" Perhaps Blood Has Been Shed figures that this gives them license to have "soul," but anyone taking an objective look will realize it’s just cheese.

Track 11 is a laid back, ambient track featuring mostly wind chimes. Now, if Seth Putman were here, he’d tell you wind chimes are gay. We’re not as intolerant as Mr. Putman; in fact, we think the track is pretty ok, but on its own. In the midst of this record, it’s horribly out of place. Metalcore fans will probably find the good outweighs the bad here... but not by much. (5.5/10)

As dubious as it may sound, it should be admitted that once, back in past days of innocence, when the underground metal scene and its various branches were still considered an infant sprouting from the sordid ground of our degrading world’s musical scene, there was some merit to being a copycat band. In order to spark the state of an infernal fire, to maintain the insidious, rippling movement underneath the despised surface of legitimacy, a certain fascist-like sense of forgiveness was necessary. Regardless of their creative ambitions and quality, underground bands deserved praise, even if merely for the merit of their active existence.

However, extreme metal has long transcended above the status of an obscure, flickering initial idea. Nowadays, being upon a stable, fertilized commercial and cultural pilaster, every uncreative group appearing within its realms should be instantly denounced, not only for its pathetic concept and aesthetic superfluity, but for threatening the legitimacy of the whole genre: The permeation and spreading of enslaving capitalism.

Take Bloodshed, for instance.

The Swedish group plays aggressive, strict black metal, combining influences of numerous Scandinavian bands (Marduk, Satyricon, Mayhem and so on, if pinpointing is required). Their technical performance is usually of a satisfactory manner: they manage to set a decent rhythm section, finely held by a technical drummer, and while leaning on the mighty props of well-distorted timbre (some of the clean and acoustic parts are mediocre, others are simply embarrassing), assisted by a modern, professional production, the whole affair sums up to a decent aesthetic effort.

Nevertheless, any aspect of their quasi-creativeness beyond cosmetic is nothing short of infuriating: Bloodshed seem to lack any spirit of innovation or renewal whatsoever; their compositional mannerism sounds like an artificial one-dimensional array, mixing bits of earlier influential creations. Unlike other conformist, contemporary bands, which manage to leave their own mark, add a certain supplemental value to their trendy creation (take, for example, Misanthropic, Sargeist and Shining, reviewed on this issue), they present no significant conceptual essence whatsoever. Rather they focus exclusively on splendorous outward attributes, utterly neglecting every conceivable productive aspect.

Bloodshed should be referred to as an unnecessary mirror that reflects past ideas, while absolutely and thoroughly sterilizing them of value and purpose. By sticking to the most ordinary riffs, the horrifyingly banal phrases and rhythmical structures, they mock and humiliate every sublime idea of rebellion and inventiveness their ancestors strived for, instead achieving the ultimately reversed purpose: a conformist, characterless, positivist effort of pseudo-Nihilism. In black metal terms, this is sheer sacrilege.

However, one may note a single advantage of an album such as this: as a footnote or reference point to commendable works of past truthful, profound creators.

Nonetheless, this may by no means be a justification to buy, or even acknowledge, the album. Any aware, venturing fan of progressive musical exploration, hoping to keep the metal field fit for new exciting achievements, must restrain his pointless, nostalgic collector’s urges and avoid getting such releases. (7/10 for craftsmanship, 2/10 for art)

Although they won’t get much attention for originality, Bloodthrone pull off the raw and buzzing black metal sound with aplomb. And with riffs and drums on full throttle, and a raspy vocalist to go along, black metal maniacs of all things freezing and grim will raise at least one set of devil horns. (7/10)

One of the great discoveries of my life (no, not that, lascivious readers) was folk music. One rainy afternoon during a childhood notable only for its proximity to adolescence, I found Harry Smith’s massive collection of American folk music at my local library. I didn’t actually check it out for a couple of weeks, but once I had exhausted all the recent CDs (all two of them) it was the most impressive looking of the remaining collection, all fabric-covered boxes and spidery lettering. I now know the music inside to be examples of Cajun, Appalachian, even blues folk, but back then I was just amazed at how good half of it was. Although often consisting of little more than a guitar and a scratchy vocal, most of the tunes were pure pop gold, and I was amazed that the library had actually realized its worth and bought a copy. The moral of the story? Don’t follow leaders, watch the library meters, man.

On to The Books, who obviously have listened to some folk music in their time, too. Not just listened, though: armed with a sense of the absurd, a lot of old, scratchy records and a license to laptop, on The Lemon of Pink, their second album, The Books create a beguiling mix of the lost and the found. In a similar (well, to me, anyway) manner to artists like Four-Tet and Manitoba, they create lush, organic mixes of sampled tracks of traditional instruments, found sounds and live playing. If you like either of the other bands, you’ll find a lot to like here, too.

In general, it all works very well, although sometimes the Books’ uniqueness can work against them. There’s few other people out there making 21st century Appalchian ambient, sure, but after the fifth song starts with another quickly picked string instrument you wish that they’d vary the basic components of their sound, too. Nevertheless, there’s a sense of fun permeating the whole record, a sense that the band really loves gleefully picking these old sounds out of the ether where they’ve been sleeping and gently breathing life back into them. It’s a feeling that I last got when I listened to The Avalanches Frontier Psychiatrist, and The Books have it in spades.

P.S. I was extremely saddened when I realized that the track "Bonanza" wasn’t their cover of the theme song to the TV series; bands have a habit of letting me down like that with interesting song titles (Iran - yes, I mean you! Go stand in the corner). (7/10)

Brainstorm know how to make their music heavy, and how to make you nod your head in time, but have they got any genuine appeal?

Soul Temptation sounds like I should have enjoyed it a lot more than I did. It's got biting riffs, good song structuring, and above all, Brainstorm don't pull any punches. But not withstanding this, threre’s little here to describe as memorable. Thrashy power metal can often be notable for the easily identifiable influences (Megadeth, Priest, Maiden, Helloween, etc.) and this lot are no exception.

The effort shows through clearly, as does the musical prowess, but nothing really about this album that jumps out and strikes me as anything special. It might be the kind of thing that would have me on my feet at a rock club, but on my stereo Soul Temptation doesn't have the impact I look for. (5.5/10)

This is the shit. A whirling, spitting, mayhemic supernova of chaotic metalcore, equal parts Slayer, black metal and Black Flag. That's right, Black Flag. Super atonal weirdness intertwined with pummeling, brutalizing, neck snapping, total fucking chaos. Agonized, howled vocals, off kilter rhythms, insane Greg Ginn-like guitar shredding, and just massively damaged weirdness all over the place.

This seriously sounds like a death metal Black Flag. Snotty and growly and slippery but with massive, downtuned guitars and full on head crushing riffs that occasionally emerge from the relentless onslaught of corrosive punkrockgrinddeathmetal splatter. So good. (9/10)

Hey everybody, Britney Fox is back!!!!!

Now if the next question you ask is: "who?" then you are part of 99.9 percent of all of us out there. Britney Fox’s first album came out in 1988. I remember the one minor hit they had, which was "Girl School." You might remember it if you stayed up until 1.56 AM on Saturdays when Headbanger’s Ball played their last video (the most memorable part was the girl who starred in it.) Thanks to some coaxing I also remember their other minor hit, (thank you, Liam Deely) "Long Way to Love."

But 2003 is a long way from 1988. Britny Fox’s last studio album was 1991’s Bite Down Hard, which barely caused a blip on anyone’s screen. Then they released a live and a greatest hits album in 2001 and 2002, respectively. Now they’re back with Springhead Motorshark.

So here’s our story: a band comes out with their debut album and has a minor hit because the girl in their video is hot. Their second album does nothing. They fire their singer and release a third album which no one cares about and then disappear until 2003 when a new album surfaces. Who cares? Some bands should not give the nostalgia tour a try. What are the band’s greatest achievements according to the liner notes? Opening up once for Bon Jovi and being named to VH1 top hair bands of all time. This does not call for a freakin’ reunion!

So what about the music? Well the band’s best attribute was singer’s Dizzy Dean’s voice. It was raspy and high, a cross between Robert Plant and a young Axl Rose. It was awesome! Even though their songs lacked originality it still sounded cool. But when he left what was there to care for? Loud guitars? Long, self-aggrandizing solos? Replacement singer Tommy Paris tried too hard to sound like Dean and instead of evolving like most bands, all they did was try to remake their first album again and again.

Springhead Motorshark is eminently forgettable. There is no heart to the music. Paris’ voice is fine, Dee’s drumming is in time and Smith’s guitars are amped up to 11, but collectively, it’s a black hole. This band never proved that they had what it takes to make it. Fifteen years after their only hit, they still don’t. (0.56/10)

First listen: Iced Earth/ latter day Judas Priest wannabes.

Second listen: hmmm...well put together nonetheless.

Thrid listen: Full-blooded, modern heavy metal in its own right.

Cage have a few tricks to add to the groundwork laid before them. And it's clear that they have already made great use of the groundwork itself. As well as the Maiden and Priest influences (both musically and vocally), there are thrash elements to the riffing, and vocal styles comparable to that of Sodom and Death.

This mixing of style is accompanied by a wealth of musical talent. The screaming guitar solos are immaculately placed. The marriage of melody and brutality is captured in fine form by the razor sharp production of Richard Carr and Sean Peck, and songs like "Eyes of Obsidian" and "White Magic" lend distinction to the name Cage.

I would have to say that if you like your heavy metal with both tradition and freshness, check out Darker than Black. It's not just something to fill in the time before the various giants of metal make their next offerings, it's a slice of quality. (8/10)

review by: Abhishek Chatterjee

It’s cool when bands that play heavier/aggressive music slow down or pretty out their music. It’s done wonders for Hopesfall, On the Might of Princes and Between the Buried and Me. Metalcore/ indie rock group Calico System have the right idea in their changing from distorted to clean guitar and hardcore to melodic singing.

And in their individual parts, Calico System doesn’t do too badly at all. However, the transitions between said parts lack conviction. It’s not totally haphazard, but that certain finesse that this band is lacking on The Duplicated Memory begins to make the individual parts seem tired and rehashed.

With that said, there are some memorable constructions and vocal lines. However, despite some good moments, you can’t shake the feeling that overall you’ve heard a lot of similar moments before on the records of the aforementioned bands. Calico System is better than some, but not yet on the top rung of this genre. (6/10)

This Greek trio have served up a decent offering in the form of this three track demo, and even though their material has very few moments that I could classify as something I have not heard before, there is a certain endearing aura about the music. Maybe it is due to the to-the-point riffing, or maybe it’s due to the obvious effort they have put in to try and differentiate the songs from each other (a pretty good sense of song writing can be seen at work here).

A lot of the riffing sounds like a laid back Coroner, especially on the title track, but mid-paced material invariably gets on the nerves after a while, unless it’s spiced up with some speedier sections, which is what Carnal Redemption deliver on the final track, "Victims of the Cyberworld."

It might be better if the band cuts down on the number of repetitions within each song or rather, trim the length of the songs so that the effect of the old school thrash/death they play is much more pronounced. Good effort! (6/10)

A gentle journey across a landscape of white noise. A cross-Atlantic collaboration between two artists. The Kranky slowness and destructured texture. Yet somehow, I find this album more compelling and moving than I might be inclined to say on a first listen. I imagine these sounds filling in the background of a film, unobtrusive but decidedly there, creating a quietly ambient mood, occasionally intruding with some breathy vocals or acoustic guitars, but essentially invisible.

A touch of Low, a touch of My Bloody Valentine feedback, the unique personalities of the musicians themselves – Jessica Bailiff is a Kranky veteran, having released three albums on the label, and David Pearce, who is more well-known for his work with Flying Saucer Attack than his noise-scapes – all add up to a nice effect.

Top tracks: "Death’s Dance," the aforementioned feedback-fest; "Dusk," a song that is less a song than a collection of sounds, living up to its title. The album is seamless, so much so that I was surprised to hear it come to an end, and only slowly nudged myself out of the sleepy trance that had descended over me. Stay away from this album if shoegazing and drone never cross your musical threshold, but enjoy it on occasion otherwise. (6.7/10)

The dudes at Hydrahead know what they’re doing. When they re-release a crushing sludge/noise doom album that fans of the genre probably already have, they make sure to spiff up the packaging to make re-purchasing the CD attractive. And the re-packaging of Cavity’s <Supercollider> is pretty snazzy, with colorful artwork and a glossy booklet.

But more importantly, it’s a good record. Bluesy doom can get darnright tiresome so much of the time. There’s something about blues riffs played real slow and heavy that so often just feels like it’s been repeated ad nauseam for the past 30 years. If you feel this way about Bongzilla, then we’re on the same page. But Cavity does it right. Every now and then some sunnier, more typical bluesy passages spring up, but they don’t divert your perception of Supercollider as being a big ol’ fucked up doom album.

You won’t get the impression that Cavity is a group of burnt out, hippie stoners. Supercollider, with its occasional white noise vocals and smash-you-over-the-head drums, is far too angry and noisy for that. But it succeeds as any doom record should: it’s got that comfortable vibe, like being in bed under a heavy blanket on a cold day. (7.2/10)

This is the kind of grind I really enjoy. Fast and brutal just like how its founders had wanted it to be, and based around such a framework that makes it obvious they have taken extra pains to write songs that differ from each other. In fact, this review could be an exact replica of the review of their previous full length, Impenetrable (check out issue #13), with the only difference being in the playing time (this MCD has a total play time of just 18 minutes, damn!).

From the Napalm Death influenced "Ensystemed" to the little System of a Down like part in the title song, one thing you are not going lack is variety. The Napalm Death influences keep popping up here and there but by now it’s pretty safe to say these guys have developed a sound of their own.

One of the highlights of this disc has to be the opening segment of album closer, "The Others," where they kick off with a Alienation Mental-style off beat riff while a keyboard makes its presence felt for a few seconds before allowing the grind mayhem to continue. I didn’t quite get what the artwork was all about, with the apple being a prominent item in the CD cover and inlay. And going by the way the lyrics have been printed, some one in the Cerebral Turbulency camp seems to hate space bars. Well, 18 minutes maybe a bit too short, but then it also means that I can play it many times over without getting bored. (8/10)

Deconstructed music fans rejoice: here is another disc to slide alongside the Godspeed! You Black Emperor. At times sounding more like new-age whale song than experimental guitar rock, this reissue of an album first released in 2002 in the form of CD-Rs may very well redefine the word "minimalism." It is in fact, spookily minimalist, from the vocals of Christina Carter and Heather Murray to the drawing out of notes on steel guitar.

Melodic passages seem to occur only accidentally, though many of the tones coaxed out of the various instruments are beautiful. But this is not an album for the short of attention. The title track runs to a gargantuan 29 minutes, in the opinion of this reviewer, a bit too long to circulate about the same theme. And this is where I suspect many who are fans of the aimless stylings of Godspeed! or the experimental rock of the Durutti Column will grow restless; in the first case, each long track is broken up by shifts in theme and tempo, while the second keeps each noodling idea relatively short. If you like sparse sounds, you could do worse than to listen to Unknown Spin, but then again, you might do better. (5.6/10)

Not to be confused with Finnish kraut/drone/hypno-rock gods Circle, this Circle is a much punkier, poppier proposition. Noisy, splattery, garage-y punk rock and roll ala the Refused, the Hellacopters, International Noise Conspiracy and the like.

Big cock-rocking riffs, punked up and fuzzed out, with wailing, screamo style vocals, simple RAWK drumming and pounding piano ala Skynrd/ Seger/Andrew WK/ Hellacopters. Very emo/MTV but plenty of weird song structures and spaced out experimentalism to keep things interesting. (6/10)

Playing an instrument is an endeavor full of passion and emotion – but unfortunately it usually results in the most retarded facial expressions ever. It happens to the best of us – Even Converge, largely considered the best metalcore band that ever was.

The packaging for the official, two-sided Coverge DVD is very nice: heavy, earthy cardboard stock that opens up in three panels, and a slipcase. But it turns out that the packaging and the content aren’t a very good match for each other.

Perhaps it’s a disclaimer; perhaps it’s a statement. Hell, maybe it’s a warning. Whatever, the viewer is clearly informed that the footage is raw, "= totally punk rock." Well, that’s one way of putting it.

The Long Road Home is a collection of 25-some separate Converge songs caught live on a home video recorder. If you’ve seen at least a few DVDs for various bands, you’re already familiar with this kind of footage, which is generally relegated to the "bonus footage" (read: amateur) section.

But Converge’s amateur footage has a slight advantage. For one, it’s shot very close to the band, often being right on stage with them. Two, this kind of poor quality, chaotic filming is well matched with the kind of shows Converge played: rooms full of rabid, lunging young men who hurtle themselves recklessly over and into each other, sometimes swarming around the band so densely that the only way to tell the two sides apart is to look for the end of a guitar.

And naturally, the sound quality varies greatly, even within the boundaries of a camcorder’s capabilities. Unfortunately, most of it is either unlistenable or total noise, and it’s doubtful even major fans of the band would be able to tell what song is being played without the serene prompt between tracks.

So while raw, "I’m (sort of) there" footage can be kind of cool in small doses on a DVD featuring a majority of higher quality sound recordings, spending close to $20 on something that consists entirely of two hours of it seems highly dubious... at least to non-punk rockers like me. (3.5/10)

Wow, this sure does sound sick. But where are the bloody guitars? All I can hear are rabid snarls and a lot of blasting drum noise. And on top of that, the guitars sound really funny when you actually get to hear them (when the drums stop), as if they are behind a wall of psychedelic distortion.

These guys some how remind me of Carcass Grinder from Japan and it really is a pity that this didn’t sound better as the drumwork is brutal. This really is worth listening for the drumming alone, and things get a lot better during songs like "Rectal Collapse" where the palm muting helps the guitar to be heard. All said and done, I’ll probably listen to this whenever I feel like playing something unearthly and brutal, but this could have been so much better with a heavier sound. (6/10)

This is a solid release from this Swedish black metal group. Throaty screams accent quick-thumping drums and muddled, scratchy guitars. The production is a little grimy and cold, but it doesn’t get in the way. It’s just right for setting the bleak mood – something all too familiar to black metal listeners.

But unlike a number of black metal albums, Total Soul Rape doesn’t slide into cheesiness or relentless over-repetitiveness. Craft isn’t afraid to experiment with something other than top speed, which makes for some nice variety. The instrumentation is a little sloppy, but not terrible.

The album is Craft’s first release, though they recorded it several years ago and re-released it this year. I haven’t yet heard their second album, Terror Propaganda, but I’m going to keep my eyes out for it. Craft’s brand of black metal is really a throwback to the earlier days, and there’s not much new happening on this album. They do the standard stuff pretty well, though. (6/10)

Omaha, Nebraska - the new Seattle - has been consistently churning out great music for the last few years. Stephen Pedersen (formerly of Cursive, a great band in its own right)’s latest venture, Criteria, is no exception. Hooky, melodic, and heavy-hitting, the debut album, En Garde, makes for good driving music, while providing the sorts of lyrics that would make any emo kid weep with joy.

The album’s opener, "The Coincidence," immediately grabs you with a low key bass line and steady drum beat (provided, respectively, by AJ Mogis and Mike Sweeney), then breaks into a staccato guitar and shoutfest. This theme resurfaces frequently on the record, providing continuity of sorts, although the repetition can be dulling after a while (see track 7, "It Happens," one of least memorable songs, or track 5, "The Life").

Nevertheless, the album as a whole has a frenetic energy to it, reminiscent of the DC sound, but with its own unique character. The band I thought of when I heard this was early-90’s group Dig, who played loud rock with an alternative edge to it, very appealing to a 15-year-old indie kid. The kind of stuff you play in your car and sing along to. This is a good thing, skating on the edge of the best pop-rock without crossing into the territory of conventional harmonics and saccharine hooks with not much more than fluff to support them.

The best track of the album is the closer, "Rescue Rescue," which artfully combines tempo changes with keys (courtesy of the Desaparecidos’ Ian McElroy) to produce a slightly gothy, mildly orgasmic cataclysm of noise. The lyrics are a bit melodramatic: "when I say I don’t know/ it means I don’t want you to know," but that’s ok. The song is sonically interesting enough on its own, including, halfway through, a guitar and bass attack that just plain kicks ass.

Another standout is the third track, "Play on Words," which has the same push-pull tempo changes as "The Coincidence" and addictively angsty lyrics: "I still call you the one that got away/ and to think I’m the one that let you go." Anyone can relate to that sentiment, as trite as it may be, and the music backs it up.

While I’m not particularly in a "loud guitar noise" mood these days, I’ll definitely keep this around for when the urge strikes again. (7.3/10)

Possessed 13 is the best and most complete album The Crown has ever made. The reasons are many. Primarily, Possessed 13 benefits from tremendous energy. It engages the listener through the album’s sections, which are divided into three clear chapters.

In this sense, Possessed 13 is a kind of concept album. The three sections vary in compositional flavors, yet at the same time are eminently cohesive with one another. For example, chapter one is more raging and thrashy, while chapter three is more old school and mid-paced. Closer inspection reveals that the songs were indeed originally created over the band’s history, but have undergone some cutting and pasting to properly fit in together. Most importantly, the songs have a common sonic value, unlike albums where pieces from vastly different recording sessions are put together to form an album that wasn’t initially conceptualized.

The greatest thing to note about Possessed 13 is that The Crown is that they totally avoid falling into the trap of being another Swedish death metal band. So, no At the Gates riff ripoffs. Also, outside of a minor nod to death and roll toward the end of chapter two of the album, The Crown avoids that problematic genre altogether. The Crown are Swedish AND original, and that’s the single highest praise we can give them.

In the past, Crown records have been overwhelmingly about two things: the elite drumming and the stunning solos. The other facets were mediocre in comparison. Showing maturity as a band, The Crown have toned down both elements, not by reducing them, but rather by *including* them in the overall framework of the album as a whole. So the skills are still there, but it’s about the songs sum of all parts, rather than just a couple of them.

Having Swedish death metal icon Tomas Lindberg in the band (on the previous record, Crowned in Terror – review in Maelstrom) didn’t really pan out as well as it was supposed to. Lindberg didn’t last all that long, and the record, while good, didn’t live up to the understandable hype. Now, with the original, relatively lackluster vocalist, The Crown has made the album that the last one was supposed to be. A very solid 8/10.

This one will be a pretty big treat for anyone who’s even remotely a fan of Aborym or Mayhem. This best of record featuring Attila Csihar in all the various bands he’s been in over his 15 year career is more than a mere compilation. It’s a virtual "from the vault" anthology, featuring many previously unheard or difficult to find tracks.

Attila Csihar (whom we interviewed in issue #14) is a living black metal legend. He somehow goes beyond many of the notaries of the Norwegian black metal scene: he has a certain unique sense of mysticism about him, and his artistic scope is broader. And he managed to rise to the highest rung of the black metal world despite coming from Hungary, where he had no musical scene to support him.

Csihar’s work with nine different bands is represented here on 14 tracks (10 different bands if you count the mp3 of a Sunn 0))) track). Unfortunately, the band most represented here is that of his electronica project Plasma Pool, which really isn’t very good. It’s goofy and frankly makes you wonder if it’s a joke. You get the trademark Attila vocals, but it’s on top of very weedy electronica melodies. Kind of like a far worse Kraftwerk but with absurd black metal vocals. Well, perhaps that’s up to you to decide, but one thing can be said about it, it certainly stands out the most of all the bands on the album.

The good news is that all the other tracks rule, especially the two early Tormentor songs (from 1988). The sound is raw and true, and for many, it will be the first opportunity to hear the songs, as old Tormentor albums are hard to find. Also on hand are tracks, alternate mixes and spontaneous jam sessions with Aborym, Limbonic Art, Mayhem, Korog (a Hungarian band Csihar joined in 2002 – the album is forthcoming), Professor Fate (a side project with Irrumator of Anaal Nathrakh), and Emperor.

And last but not least, the album is jam packed with an archive of photos of Csihar and friends from their earliest performances in 1986 to the present. In the end, The Beast of Attila Csihar may be a comp, but it’s somehow more than that – like it’s a slice of history. (8/10)

PS: Attila Csihar wants us to know that his label, Saturnus Productions, is up and running. Word has it the first thing to be put out is a re-release of Tormentor's first record.

The cover for this album is a spoof on Slayer’s Reign in Blood with the addition of a few embellishments like an impaled teddy bear, a naked chick hanging upside down, a roasted chicken hanging upside down and an ass spraying out some white mist. When a band resorts to gimmickry like this, I tend to get overcritical about the band and just wait for a chance to tear them down. But this band didn’t offer such a chance.

Cuntgrinder deliver some great, scorching grind with major sexual overtones. Like Profanation, this also boasts of a good sound, though I don’t know whether this has been recorded at the same studio. However, Cuntgrinder’s music is so much more effective than Profanation, mainly due to the better dynamics within each song. Luxl can blast like a madman, yet he maintains a level of tightness that borders on the unbelievable. The other members too play their part in making this grind contraption work, with the two guitarists playing some really fast riffs while a triple vocal attack adds some variety.

They have done a few covers, including an absolutely shredding version of Gut’s "Cuntshredder" (and one of Saxon, too!!!). Also worth checking out is the 18th song entitled "Dildo Megawatt": their version of Slayer’s "Raining Blood." Ah, well, the similarity lasts only for the opening riff and then the song literally explodes into a brief but intense grinding fury. Grind fans, this one is for you. (7.5/10)

I am still not sure if it's my stereo or the fact that this CD comes with quite some computer-readable stuff on it that makes it start off with six minutes of silence. Anyway, apart from this irritating oddity this CD is notable through and through, if only for the fact that the beginning of track two sounds like "Octopus's Garden" from the Beatles' Abbey Road, with Shirley Bassey's colorful deep voice from "Goldfinger" from the like-named James Bond movie mixed in...

The compositions are very multi-faceted. Sweeping from pretty, rough parts with guitars and drums to slower passages with delicate vocal parts, it takes up a whole set of different styles. Silvia's voice is very prominent throughout all songs, and despite her doing a great job with a lot of "soul" and coloratura, a little more restrained performance might have helped to give the album an a better sense of evenness.

Yet it is amazing how Darklight managed to combine her rather un-metalesque voice with the rest of the gang. If you listen to it more intently, you'll realize that the drumming is very elaborate (odd enough, somehow the snare sounds very dirty and punk-like).

This album needs intense listening, and even me, though being absolutely persuaded by this band, sometimes felt a bit exhausted from its many rhythm changes and the ever-prominent vocalist.

Unfortunately we're looking only at an album of 35 minutes, but as the contact info says, it's only five euros to order, which is a real bargain for this gem. (8/10)

What would you expect from the brains responsible for the sick and twisted creature that was GWAR? Yup, more of the same sickness and perversion that endeared them to so many. Songs such as "Should the Ugly Girl Blow Me?" and "Hard for a 'Tard" show that Brockie (formerly known as Oderus Urungus) has by no means lost his touch.

It's a bizzare and amusing brand of punk rock that will make you grab the lyrics for every song, no matter what your opinion of punk. With lines like "Retarded chicks should be fucked and not heard," you might anticipate a little controversy, but it's not as if these guys are new to that game (once considered some of the sickest individuals in popular American culture).

For me, it's the comedy value that does it. (3.5 for the music, 8 for the lyrics)

Defacing is actually pretty good, after you get past the rather shady production. It’s rampant and fast grindcore with a death metal flavour. Horribly generic for those that are already tired of the genre, but interesting enough for those always on the lookout for more of the extreme. However, this demo has only four songs, so unless you are a purist and want everything you can get, leave this demo alone and wait for their full length. (6.6/10)

It’s great to get promos by unsigned, DIY bands. Yeah, sometimes the music is great, but it’s the glimpse into the personalities of the band members that is so fun.

Just this issue alone, Maelstrom has received DIY promos wrapped in a torn out page of a porn mag and a scientific form written in Russian. French screamo band Deny Life, whose first demo we adored, sends us their demo in a character sheet from some role playing game that fittingly combines martial arts and musical skills. Pierre Guillot, the organizer of the group, has just passed the equivalent of the French bar exam, he plays anarchistic RPGs, and he’s the front man for one of the best screamo bands you may never have heard of. I love it!

The sound of From the Ashes of Hate is very raw. At times, if it were any rawer, the CD would be unlistenable. But it never goes there. Instead, the guitars maintain a precarious foothold on clarity and primal energy. Thankfully, the drums come across very clearly, with the toms being especially punchy. Same is the bass guitar, which is essential to come through on this kind of heavy music.

But Guillot’s vocals is the gem of it all. Kind of like Barney Greenway if he had been raised in the wild by lions, Guillot’s roar evokes strength and conviction. It’s muscular but not obnoxious or pretentious. His screamy parts are good, too.

On the last demo, Deny Life had a certain Bolt Thrower meets His Hero is Gone mixed with up-tempo punk attack. The music is a little different this time. The His Hero is Gone comparisons are certainly there, as much due to the vocals as anything, but the increased dynamics in speed and emotion make us think of All is Suffering, a hugely talented and underappreciated band. The latter has developed a bit further than Deny Life, but look out for this French group if they keep on going and stay true to themselves. (8/10)

We slammed Destruction pretty hard in review of their previous record, The Antichrist, saying that this once groundbreaking German thrash institution had inexplicably turned into one of the generic clones that it spawned. Unfortunately for hard core fans of the late, great, old school Destruction, the band that they love so much continues to be on hiatus. However, Metal Discharge is not without its good points.

Metal Discharge is much better than the redundant dorkfest of The Antichrist. There are a few good riffs and grooves to be found. And like all the Destruction records since the "rebirth" in 2000, the production and sound rocks hard.

But Schmier still doesn’t sound like Schmier. He sounds like a thrash anyman. And that’s not right. Schmier, like the rest of the band, used to have a certain goofy quality to him, sort of like he partially didn’t know what he was doing. It was all fresh and Destruction was making it up as they went along, thereby being original. Now, the thrash guidebook has long been written, and Destruction is merely a solid band following its cardinal rules. (6/10)

Dew-Scented have not put a foot wrong. Their uncompromising tempest of death influenced thrash is simply a wonder to behold, and <Impact> piles on the brutality thick and fast. Each album has been better than the last, and the band themselves have been criminally under-appreciated for their work. Yup, something is seriously wrong with metal today. But then again, if there was nothing to complain about in this world, things would be even worse.

The 11 tracks all have a certain flow to them, incorporating great use of bass drum rhythms alongside a traditional thrash style (the Slayer influence is hard to miss). The production suits the band very well indeed, but not something on which to comment at length.

"Slaughtervain" is the track that really stands out , but Impact hits the spot from start to finish. Dew-Scented are one of those bands who can only be fully appreciated on record once they have been witnessed live, but whether that opportunity is there or not, this album is a wise purchase (8/10)

Aesthetically and conceptually, the awaited release of Dimentianon doesn't differ much from their 2k2 promo, reviewed in Maelstrom. Seven Suicides feature the same unique brand of raw, extreme metal numbing in its total absence of positive, humane elements.

When contemplating its essence, one should find the band's music inducing him to embark on a bitter, sober journey of self-exploration. Once having become used to their sporadic bundles of random atonal riffs, purposelessly sifting rhythms, somehow sloppy playing, noticeably live, untamed, chaotic atmosphere, lethargically intense vocals belching hymns of morbid phrases, either directly or allusively, around the immortal concept of suicide, the listener should gradually aim his attention at his own inner core of resumed essence. As an object, none of the band's pieces should be sufficiently unearthly in order to have a distinctive, colossal effect upon him.

However, being exposed for such a riotous, disarrayed havoc for a continuous period of time, its consequences shall reach him in an indirect, ironic manner: when losing focus of the album, allowing it to sink in the background, comes this realization: the music of Dimentianon is an agonizingly well-reflecting mirror of life – a praxis of cold, revolting, blunderingly geometric, at times horrific and grudging anger, aimlessly pointed outwards by all entities, engrossing the environment within its prevailing pathetic militancy.

When confronted with such a frustrating, realistic imagery, the gloomy, dismal ponderings are inevitable. Being unmediatedly faced with a refined, distilled stream of allegedly lively, active, powerful emotions, yet obviously and notably remaining distant and alienated, trapped within the distressing bounds of the lonely individual being, the repressed, ever present notion of the finite gateway is all of a sudden conjured and comes to mind. The menacing US trio has reached its fiendish goal.

Once again, an album such as this brings to mind the question regarding the significance of the original intention of the creating artist. Assuming that Dimentianon meant their album to genuinely, directly encourage suicide, they have obviously failed, joining hordes of similar bands performing linear phrases of pretended evil. The singular merit of their album stems from little but the resulting consequences of its subjective listening experience. Are they aware of it? Was it meant to be so? The discussion regarding the matter is vast and complicated, and shouldn't be dealt with here.

Those craving for a brilliant, glamorous, polished and involving musical creation should probably find Seven Suicides repelling. The ones looking for a basic, primitive outrage of mindless moshing may enjoy this, assuming they manage to overcome the lack of rhythmic cohesiveness. And finally, those seeking sophisticated, philosophically laden, sullenly hinting and idealistically haunting artistic creations – get this. At your own risk. (7/10)

The field of black metal has seen much debate since the birth of the scene. There are those who believe that black metal died with Euronomous, and others who see the classic works of Mayhem, Burzum, and Darkthrone as nought but a drop in the ocean.

Some feel that incorporating keyboards into the style was a fatal error, and there are those who see it as a great virtue. So many questions that your seasoned black metal fan will ask themselves; is it true or false? Are they underground or commercial? We have reached a point where many cannot simply ask themselves, "Do I enjoy this music?"

Dimmu Borgir. Love them or hate them. The fact remains that they are a fantastic band in a league of their own. I was first bewitched when Godless Savage Garden was released, and once again, I find myself with a stunning album in my hand. What does it matter that Death Cult Armageddon wasn't recorded on a four-track, with a guitar sound comparable to the scrape of nails down a blackboard? I for one, as a fan of many underground bands, still consider them a jewel of the black metal crown. They know what they are doing when they go into that recording studio. They have the talent, the ideas, and they have still refused to infect their music with loops of techno samples.

With each listen, Death Cult Armageddon just gets better and better. The guitars are nice and heavy, the blastbeats and double bass drum assaults of Nick Barker are quite simply the tightest work this side of Morbid Angel, and the backing of the Prague Philharmonic Orchestra has been used to great effect (more like a classical film score in places).

Dimmu Borgir are a band who are by no means afraid to let their influences show through, with riffing styles harking back to some truly classic metal bands, such as Iron Maiden, Merciful Fate and Bathory. I don't think I've managed to spot a single moment of weakness on this CD, within it's "commercial" style, of course. I have the feeling that this band will remain one of my favourites for years to come.

If you're looking for wind tunnel screams and the true, cold, evil sound of the underground, then fair enough, this would not be your first port of call. Personally, I would just as soon pick this from my CD shelves as Nargaroth, Frozen Shadows or Thunderbolt. It's fantastic, and nothing short of what I would have wished for. Not perfection, but where can that be found? (9.4/10)

This is one of those packages to die for. Perfect Collection is a compilation of a bunch of odds and ends throughout the now-defunct career of one of the undisputed gods of grind, Discordance Axis. Throughout 69 tracks, you get various EPs, splits with other bands, live tracks and rehearsal recordings. But what makes it really cool is how Hydrahead has decided to once again package a Discordance Axis album in a DVD case, which in this instance was essential to the goals that the label and band set out for themselves.

The 26-page, DVD sized booklet has lyrics and unique notes about every track on the album, along with new art, pictures, and the original artwork from the various recordings. The constant liner notes are interesting to read and help to engage you into the music.

The supreme irony, though, is that even with a lyric sheet, no one has any hope of following any of what is being said on the CD. It’s nothing short of curious considering how much the writer of the notes (who also wrote all the lyrics and, um, vocalized them) comments on how good or bad the lyrics are, or how such and such other band was more eloquent on the topic.

And, truth be told, the overwhelming appeal of this album is in fact the packaging, as the content of the CD itself is extremely repetitive. The songs are all essentially the same, and the only ones that stand out are the sort of joke songs like the slow "My Neighbor Totoro" and a spoken clip from "Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams." The rest of the collected tracks pretty much differ only in their sonic values. For example, the tracks around 38-42 have super scathing vocals. The pace and fury of the tracks is dead on for sure, with Dave Witte’s herculean blasting on showcase throughout. But Pig Destroyer’s Prowler in the Yard this is not.

The end of the CD is a pretty big junkpile of a 20-minute live show mushed into one track, and some nigh-unlistenable mud from the band’s first rehearsal together that was probably caught on a hand recorder.

But that is the essence of this album release. It’s meant for Discordance Axis fans. And if you’re a rabid fan – and there are quite a few of you out there – there is no reason why you shouldn’t get this. It will make you very happy. For the rest of you, you probably won’t need this album, as cool as its package is. Absolutely go for Discordance Axis’ final studio record, The Inalienable Dreamless (reviewed in Maelstrom), which also comes in a DVD case with terrific booklet. Then figure out for yourself how much you might need Perfect Collection. (10/10 for Discordance Axis fans 5/10 for everyone else)

For almost all of The Burning Passion, Divine Rapture is a fine tuned death metal machine. Much of the band’s effectiveness is thanks to the existence of Morbid Angel, but with that said, I’d reach for this record over Gateways to Annihilation any day.

And "passion" is the best possible word to be used for this disk, and for any quality extreme metal. And if there’s rapture to be found in incessantly callous, grim barbarity, and if this isn’t it, then I don’t know what is. The production soars as high as the thundering drums, screaming guitars and frightening vocals. Also check out the bits of Bach to be found in "Funeral Mist." Cool that someone other than a power metal band is incorporating some classical bits in its music.

And so, it’s almost all great, except for the couple tracks where Divine Rapture decide to try to be the cheesy Renaissance Faire version of Lord Wind/ Graveland. Maybe they’re trying to stick to the formula of "a bunch of hard songs, and then some ‘Friday the 13th’ reject music, followed by some more hard songs" that Morbid Angel introduced. Whatever the reason, the really bad synth sounds and hilariously campy melodies are not only a baffling match for the rest of the record, but for ANY record, for that matter.

But nothing can detract from the fury of the other nine tracks. And all CD players conveniently come equipped with a skip button. (8.3/10)

This album lives up to its band’s name. Rotate the ear, that is.

This music explodes into a place where pagan dancehall meets conscious intellect. This CD was released by two guys, Dave Barrows and Mark Schleunes. Their combined experience comes out of theatre, jazz and database science. The result is symbolic, merciless and totally original.

Most of the beats are canned but the final product fully transcends anything one would ever find in such a receptacle. This is an awesome collection whose subject matter is wildly current, smart and fearless. It confronts in large part America’s indulgent aggression and the irony of its religious and humanitarian lip service.

Dave Barrows is playing a mix of classic and "outside the box" saxophone. The other featured instruments come and go in perfect cameo bits that serve the mood and message of each song. It’s techno AND it’s totally satisfying for mind and body, especially if you love to funk it up while hopped up on the news of the day.

Listening to this CD is like listening to a radical political talk show that introduces historical and mathematical symbolism into a hot powered, hi-fi, techno, funk extravaganza. Their live shows totally benefits from the theatrical concept that make their music so original. Their audiences are hypnotized by the cool multi-media show and the compelling B&W CD cover design. It's deep and it's gonna get you going.

One cut says it all:

"Priest of the Abacus, Pray for us!"

Now, dance. (9.4/10)

This release really requires some context, as the Elegy Radio Ensemble are not a band as such, but a collection of musicians who staged a 25 (!) hour improvised drone back in 2001 in Duluth in honour of a murdered friend. The two pieces on this EP are not extracts from that actual session, but two live "samplers" played on a local radio station as tasters for the session itself. Got all that? Good.

But of course you don’t really need to know any of the above to simply appreciate and enjoy the music on the CD. The first is an orchestrated "drone" whose general feel will be familiar to everyone who’s ever bought a Godspeed! You Black Emperor record; what’s surprising is the level of intensity and emotion that the Ensemble bring to it. A slow-building track, it begins with a series of sustained notes played on the strings, combined with portentous drums in the background. As it progresses, several stringed instruments combine into a massive chordal drone, the drums become ever more insistent and a simple, delicate four-note phrase can be heard floating over the general hum. The effect is staggering potent and quite overwhelming; definitely not background music unless you’re desperately searching for a soundtrack to your latest performance art piece entitled "Armageddon."

All change for the second piece, which is more experimental and mood-based, but certainly no less powerful. Admirers of Plastikman’s recent forays into stripped-down techno and the Aphex Twin’s shiveringly barren ambient will enjoy it: for the rest of us, there’s always the first track. Together, the two pieces are an intriguing document of the event, but sadly the limitations of the radio source of the recordings means that a lot of the subtleties of the performance are probably lost. I hear that there’s a documentary being made of the event, hopefully with better recordings; for now, this will suffice. (6/10)

You gotta love straight edge. Seriously. I'm technically straight edge. Never smoked. Never done drugs. Never drank alcohol. EVER. But the one thing that kept me from identifying with straight edge is the music. It sucks. Always has.

Thankfully, straight edge, as well as punk rock in general, kept getting heavier and heavier and closer to actually being metal. So Embrace Today has that going for it, although at its heart this is still sort of old school, punky and fast, with lots of chug and pound, eye-wateringly wailing vocals.

My main complaint is the super brittle production (courtesy of Coalesce's Kurt Ballou) that sucks all the power right out. And then there's the cheesy airbrushed 9/11 cover art, complete with firemen and superimposed XXX's over the top. Whatever. There's some serious metallic mayhem potential but it's kept in check by the straight ahead punk structure. If you want some seriously crushing vegan straight edge fury try some Earth Crisis. (6/10)

Combining an effort of aesthetic and conceptual musical experimentation with a predetermined, defined ideological theme is quite a problematic ambition, one often liable to fail. While the essence of experimentation stems from a core of exploration and spontaneous inventiveness, the confining, verbally stated limits commit the artists to a certain frame rendering their task, even if still possible, a notably more complicated one.

On their latest album, Ephel Duath have pretentiously tried to perform on both fields, causing their innovative and interesting, yet unripe musical output to appear as a much greater disappointment then it might have been.

Ephel Duath have taken on a multi-dimensional challenge. Musically, they feature an intriguing attempt of mixing aggressive extreme metal with jazz elements. Comparing several bands who have already created such amalgamations, to varying extents of success, Ephel Duath haven’t settled for intertwining jazzy elements into their rooted compositions.

They’re still rooted in metal, but decide to base their whole creation upon (very well performed) jazzy drumming, over which are played alternating segments of pure avantgarde jazz, melodic vocals, screens of pummeling, distorted guitars, screaming vocals, as well as different combinations of both styles and more atmospheric bits.

The musicianship is more than competent, proving an impressive mastery of the band members on both complex free jazz and metal playing techniques. However, the compositions lack variety and cohesiveness; it seems that under the banner of exploration, no effort was put in the essential structuring and arranging of the contents of musical themes. The result is a dense, thick bulk of alternating complicated polyphonic interludes and blasting, overwhelming riffs, nearly deprived of any leading motives and central reference points, ironically reaching in its ideological lushness a state of indifferent monotony. This, indeed, could count as a conveyed message for itself.

While on Phormula Ephel Duath dealt with are sensual perception of the universe and its different implications, they have ascended to a somehow upper level, now examining our existential being within the world, our attempt to capture our manner of being and deciphering our enigmatic self, dealing with notions as irony, subconscious etc.

And yet, another concept is present: Corresponding with the album’s title, each track deals with a different color, supposing, according to the band, to represent a "sublimation of free interpretations,"presenting a unique feel and sensibilities.

Here, the contradiction is revealed: the concept of different "colors of existence," each demonstrating a different aspect of our perception, or perhaps even the notion of each human being the painter of his own existential image, may perfectly fit the lyrical expression, Ephel Duath’s performance on both these aspects clashes with their conflicting musical implementation. A color is a definition, an enclosure of a truly subjective, intuitive way of interpretation of reality. Ideally, an album featuring such themes should feature different musical embodiments of our varied, dynamic views and states of facing our challenging burden of being. However, featuring a free group interpretation, being compelled to the liberated, rather free jazz frame, the band distressfully betrays the concept of subjectivity: dedicating themselves to the concept of experimentation and unprejudiced artistic exploration, neglecting the formation of a stiff compositional spine. On each piece they present quite an arbitrary, simultaneous bundle of varied subjective views of an abstract notion.

Not placing any limiting barriers, it all sums up to an average compromise of chaotic objectivity. In other words: besides the aforementioned interesting element of genre-crossing experimentation, the separated tracks, supposed to symbolize different colors, approaches and views, sound essentially insignificant, indecisive, repetitive and similar in their lack of distinctiveness or any actual crystallized statement.

Therefore, while being able to channel their resources for one main goal, be it aesthetic innovation or intellectual concept, Ephel Duath could produce either a satisfyingly unified album, or a more evolved and focused intriguing experiment. Instead, by trying to work on both levels in parallel, they mistakenly managed to express one notion: although we believe that our perception is composed of a palette of varied colors, actually, the difference is to be considered insignificant, existing in our surrounding space of random infinity. However, in order to internalize such notion, one doesn’t need to get the latest Ephel Duath; he can simply sit and stare. (7/10 for innovativeness, 3/10 for conceptuality)

Enchant's seventh album, Tug of War, opens with the storming "Sinking Sand" - featuring a strong melody that flows naturally and beautifully from the energized sections to the more mellow ones, interesting solos and excellent singing from Ted Leonard.

The band has been around for quite a while, and it shows - they all sit in together well and tight, and each player can certainly handle his instrument in a professional form. For this album they abandoned some of their progressive ambitions and went for a more accessible sound.

The second song, "Tug of War," is a bit of a letdown. The Enchant sound relies heavily on melodies – certainly a thing to admire these days, and when the melody works (as on "Sinking Sand"), they sound superb. However, the melody on "Tug of War" isn't as strong, and the transition between the song's different sections sound somehow forced. It is on this track that the Manfred Mann (leader of the 70's progressive-rock band Manfred Mann's Earth Band) influence on the keyboards playing begins to surface - and it will come up again on other tracks, like "Living in a Movie." At certain points the band sounds like a metallic version of the 90's incarnation of Bad Company. What can I do? When there's not enough flesh to catch your focus, you instead play "spot the influence."

Which leads me to mention the obvious Dream Theater scent, especially on guitar, even if a word should be said in Douglas Ott's defense - he tries not to take it too far, and generally succeeds. Also, a hint of Steve Walsh in Leonard's high-register singing is noticeable every now and then.

It is the two first tracks that highlight the entire work – the album goes on with tracks that vary in the quality of their melodies and in the interest that they offer. "Holding the Wind" features a nice instrumental section on which the bass, keyboards and guitar trade leads. "Beautiful" is too simple, especially lyrically, and as a ballad it certainly suffers from it. In fact, none of the softer, ballad sections on this album are anything to be proud of (apart from the ones on the opening cut). Ed Platt's bass playing, however, brings some action into the song, as he does throughout the album, supplying great rhythm and most of the creative highlights. "Living in a Movie" is one of the album's weakest tracks – it suffers from banal lyrics as unfocused as the music. It is a track that seems to last forever; It is not the only one.

The album lasts for about 65 minutes, featuring only 10 songs, and since most of them lack any musical development or anything else that is overly refreshing, most of them are too long. In fact, even the album's only instrumental track, "Progtology," is tiresom – sure, the moody middle section, which transforms into an electric and bass guitar celebration is quite good, yet the first and the final sections of the track, which are quite similar, may cause the listener to lose his patience, especially with these annoying, cheap chapel keyboard effects.

Tug of War, once you get through the strong opening cut, is a "solid in being average" release, and although at times it has something to captivate the listener with (the bass playing in particular), it suffers largely from the length of its songs. If only they cut it down, it would have been more fun! (5.5/10)

The latest record by this long-time punk outfit has got the right energy and attitude in place... but is it too much to ask for more than one simplistic song repeated 13 times?

Indeed, "too long" sums up all of Fuck the System’s shortcomings. I understand up-tempo punk is all about the three chord progressions, that aggressive punk beat, and lyrics about taking down the man. But I dunno if I need this much of Exploited’s take on it. Even the undeniably rockin’, memorable opening song goes on about a minute and a half too long.

So, there’s not a whole lot of depth. Track 4, "You’re a Fucking Bastard," sounds like the punk version of the "Fuck You, Uncle Fucker" song from "South Park: the Movie." The song has exactly *two* lyrics, the one in the title (about 75 percent) of the time, and "and a shit fuck, too" the remaining 25 percent.

But the record DOES rock. But it would be more effective if it could be broken up into six or seven parts and then thrown to the wind to land in various compilation albums. As an album you’d do much better to check out Driller Killer’s And the Winner Is... if you want totally kick ass, up-tempo punk. (6/10)

Shouty, punky, fist pumping, testosterone soaked punk rock, that comes mighty close to being metalcore, but the shouted tough guy vocals and boom-bap-boom-bap punk rock tempos send Figure Four windmilling into an old school NY hawdcore mosh pit. Mediocre and sort of boring.

They do have a woman in the band, which is pretty remarakble in the manly world of punk rock/metal. But it's kind of depressing when that's the thing that stands out the most. (5/10)

The post-modern beast roams our world. It shakes the innermost foundations of our constructed perceptions and beliefs, the once-revolutionary notions of collision of moralistic values, instability of the sense of realized self, and presupposed subjectivity of every product of the human intellect.

Nevertheless, it is still intriguing to encounter new attempts of artistic representation of these disturbing ideas. It’s like experiencing the reflection of the bewildering sense of unguided straying within the realms of infinity as seen by the eyes of a different individual. Foe's latest release should be added to the never-ending, ever growing list of such efforts worthy of absorbing.

Foe, a British instrumental trio, bombards the listener with a generic, linear, usually one-dimensional array of throbbing, distorted guitar/bass riffs. The insidious, baffling element in their music is exceedingly notable and emphasized: their own path of deconstruction focuses on denying the principles of traditional occidental (and, actually, oriental as well) rhythm and harmony, most rarely combining within their plethora of dynamic phrases the familiar elements of non-chromatic scales or decipherable symmetric beat. Unlike numerous bands of extreme genres, Foe do not aim at generating an absolute whirlpool of frightening, disheartening chaos. They take on the more sophisticated, fastidious challenge of establishing their own local language, offering a supplement to the ones they actively deny.

Their sound and manner of playing remain constant and defined, featuring a rather clean and meticulously accurate output (also demonstrating laudable instrumental skills by all players). They choose to, although negating a few ideas, maintain a foundation of coherence and sonic cohesiveness. While surprising and disorientating the listener with their slippery volatility, the alternating and repeating phrases on each piece do attempt to adjoin one another in order to create a greater whole, thus giving life to a new (even if already similarly heard within the context of the math-rock genre and its derivatives) lexicon of self-defined values.

However, Foe doesn't manage to conquer the transcendental, mystical upper level of creation. This lack stems from a paradox bound to their own featured views, inevitably forcing the listener to explore unfamiliar realms in which his own mental conditioning of judgment and valuation are no longer valid. Therefore, his discriminating opinion – the one allowing euphoric, ecstatic pleasure as well as immersing disgust, is neutralized. Then, even if still capable of appreciating the meaning of such creation on the intellectual level, he is still left outside the heavenly realms of artistic elation.

The artist – in order to convey his manifest yet leave this blissful plot in the reach of the listener’s perception – must avoid his complete erosion to the parallel world of aesthetic terminology, imbedding within the hub of his pieces somehow familiar shards of the listener’s familiar environment. Thusly, the artist not only presents the listener with an alien batch of notions, but ironically proves the fragility of the listener’s own supportive views, forcing them to unavoidably yet willfully disintegrate.

This, Foe rarely attempt to do. In fact, on the few occasions when such effort is made (be it done consciously or not), glimpses of brilliance are clearly beheld. If they learn to evolve and expand this critical element of their art, they are bound to reach these yearned grounds more and more often, perhaps threatening the upper class of bands as King Crimson or Cheer Accident. In the meantime, you may as well enjoy this, even if not utterly essential, still interesting and quite good release. (7/10)

It’s been a while since the extreme metal world heard anything from Forest of Impaled. Thankfully, despite a long layoff and some personnel change frustration, the band have lost no steam in building on their great Demonvoid record.

Orcs are cool. And if you’re going to watch the second installment of the "Lord of the Rings" movie, the part with the attack on Helm’s Deep, with the sound turned off, then there isn’t a better album to put on than Forward the Spears.

It’s a perfect album title, really. Images of spiked implements of war wielded by barbaric, inhuman hordes as they roll like waves over the hilly countryside come up throughout the album’s 10 tracks. New drummer Duane Timlin (of Judas Iscariot fame) greatly contributes to the mood with rumbling drum work that features a strong medieval military vibe.

As always, Forest of Impaled incorporates some melody in their music every now and again. And as always, it works both in pacing the album and in the melodies themselves. Forest of Impaled has always been somewhere between the US and European styles of blackened death, and they take the best elements from all to make something original and worthwhile. I’ve been listening to Forward the Spears a lot lately - more than anything else, for that matter. You will, too. Recommended. (8.5/10)

Goth-pop, who knew it still existed? Actually, if you look close enough, you can find many bands that still try to hold the melancholic flame up high. Frozen Autumn is one of them.

This dynamic Italian duo managed to get stuck somewhere in the 80s and are now making good use of that. This release is about as generic as you can get in the genre, but it offers some interesting moments none the less.

You can pass on this album unless you are one of the "dark romantic" persuasion. But even if you are than I suggest you to spend your money on something else (on good electro-pop bands like Diary of Dreams). (5/10)

Sound Riot Records has a pretty interesting little trend going of releasing uncommon power metal. First we got Requiem’s debut, and now Gaia Epicus’ Satrap. Like Requiem, Swedish Gaia Epicus plays music clearly in the European power metal style, but with more than a few unique and interesting variations on the tried and true, be it an unusual break, arrangement, or use of melody.

It’s a real shame and yet another example that power metal bands must be built around the vocalist. No matter how good the rest of the band is, it’s all wasted if the singer makes you wince. Take Vigilante from Japan as the perfect example. The most amazing music is almost entirely ruined by "you’ve got to be kidding me" vocals. For these bands, we can only hope for next time. (5.5/10)

Satanism and lyrics praising it used to make a big splash. Singing about being on Satan’s side WAS the big ticket for Venom. But over the 20 years since, it’s gradually been diluted to the point where it’s beyond run-of-the-mill. What was once unsettling or taboo became positively bland and silly.

But there’s still something genuinely scary about Gorgoroth. Like, they really *mean* it. The Satanic conviction comes across very strongly in the vocal performance of Ghaal, who is like public enemy #1 now in the black metal world.

Gorgoroth has always had intense, brilliant vocals, and the music to match. Think of Under the Sign of Hell and Destroyer. Simple, eminently effective music. Gorgoroth sticks to that formula on Twilight... Raging black metal that sounds like being caught under violent sheets of rain. Thick, buzzy guitars. And those desperate, hate-filled vocals.

In Gorgoroth’s body of work, Twilight of the Idols is not their best record. Not even close. It doesn’t have the raw candor of Under the Sign... or the striking noisiness of Destroyer, but it’s not a disappointment. It is more polished, but less so than the previous record, Incipit Satan. Yes, Satanic album titles and songs often seem like they’ve breathed their last breath, but when Gorgoroth does it, it feels nothing short of the upholding of tradition. (7.2/10)

The guitars in the opening seconds of the first song felt good, with their double-tracked riffing arriving in metallic chunks, but when the singing started I stopped.

If emo is truly dead, someone tell our friend here. The rest of Glasseater know.

Like a smart jacket, shirt, tie, trousers, but a pair of sand-caked flip-flops, the lack of momentum, of consistency, made this album seem to last several hours. And that’s only good when you’re feeling it. (3.8/10)

I see myself jumping backwards off a skyscraper at night in slow motion. As my arms stretch out, they form a cross with my body. Against the sea of lights below, only my silhouette can be seen.

After a couple of rather dull guitar strokes, a solemn keyboard sequence on Graveworm’s Engraved in Black evoked exactly those images.

Thick distortion, sustained guttural growls and clear double bass drums at moderate tempo are enough to form a dense and heavy atmosphere all over. To get a better idea of what we’re talking about, think of Graveworm as Crematory`s (RIP) sinister brothers-in-spirit.

Listening to this album, you`ll find yourself overwhelmed more than once by feeling of there being a sudden break in the flow of time; the song takes a snapshot of it and prolongs it to eternity, just as described in the vision in the first paragraph.

Graveworm`s work is definitely not outstanding in terms of intricate composition work with manifold patterns or solo parts, but also, you won`t find yourself waiting for any better in any one of the aformentioned qualities. You`ll simply love it for how it is. (8/10)

So, Immortal broke up and the entire metal loving staff at Maelstrom is in tears. Well, perhaps we can give our hankies a chance to dry out a little with the release of the debut Grimfist album, which features none other than super loveable Immortal drummer Horgh. He might not look like a giant tuna anymore without his Immortal makeup, but his photos are still as wonderfully goofy as ever, and he can fucking play. But is the record all we hope it will be? Let’s take a closer look.

Grimfist is without a doubt a series of rapid fire punches. It shreds and rages along throughout its entirety, and Frediablo’s vocal performance is well done, even the amusing, high pitched metal singing/shrieking on "A World of Wrath."

So Ghouls of Grandeur’s songs are without question accomplished extreme metal compositions. But beyond that, there’s not that much depth to them. They "kick ass," but listeners with thousands or even hundreds of albums in their collection might not get more than two listens out of Grimfist. Something to consider. (6.8/10)

Let’s get straight down to business and dispense with all of the exposition (i.e. waffle) - this album just isn’t as good as I had anticipated. Granted, my hopes had been unfairly raised by a number of factors: Growing are on Kranky records, usually a high watermark for all things post and rock; parts of the album, at least, are frustratingly good; and, well, el jefe liked the record. So what’s my goddamn problem, eh?

Well, while all the correct ingredients for a great album are present and correct, the all important contributions cohesion, purpose, and identity are not. On The Sky’s Run into the Sea, Growing (a trio from Olympia, WA) wear a lot of their influences on their sleeves while forgetting to actually craft something new and/or remarkable with them. In this bizarre transformer of a record ("Look, this song can be a drone, a metal riff, or a strange mangling of a Beatles’ track! Thanks, Bandai!"), the band crafts complex tracks of guitar, bass and minimal electronics that argue and spit about what they’re going to be once they grow up.

It’s like listening to someone who’s trying desperately to remember quotes from books that you’ve both read; you’ve heard pretty much everything that they have to say, and their strangled, faltering repetition of it only reminds you how much better it all sounded the first time around.

It’s not exactly bad, though: for your money, you get a smorgasbord of late 90s/early 00s drone-, post- and ambient-rock flourishes that go on for a very long time, mixed together with all the tender loving care of the mayonnaise guy at McDonalds. The worst things about the album are the small moments when an interesting riff or texture comes along, only to be buried in the miasma. One is left with the lasting impression that there’s probably a good album in Growing, but it’s certainly not this one. (5/10)

Harmony Dies sound like they had a decent battle plan when recording this latest dish of hyperspeed death metal, with the exception of the slightly flat drum sound .

It's furious and brutal as fuck, each track spitting out the raw essence of uncompromising death metal. I find most satisfying to discover a band who are worthy of high praise within any scene, and it's safe to say that this kind of quality keeps the genre alive and (double) kicking. The music is neither complex nor diverse, but it has just the right kind of anger to carry the songs across nicely.

If Impact had been given the same sound treatment as Morbid Angel's Altars of Madness, then songs like "Silence" and "Farewell" would have people throwing up their vital organs at fifty paces. The album still packs an almighty punch however, and something is seriously wrong if it doesn't lift Harmony Dies into the upper leagues of the global death metal scene. (8.2/10)

Thrash metal has been experiencing something of a revival over the past few years. It's been down to a few different factors. For one, the fact that the hits of Slayer, Metallica and Sepultura were still constantly aired in rock clubs throughout the nineties, even when thrash was considered a thing of the past, and the aforementioned giants had fallen from grace like dominoes. Secondly, bands of the death and black metal persuasion would never forget that which once inspired them. Personally, I think it was mostly because of the many who re-discovered something old in their quest for something new.

HavocHate are a band who clearly know how to celebrate such a revival, and This Violent Earth sounds fucking gorgeous, tweaked to perfection by none other than master axeman/producer James Murphy. They may sound suspiciously like Testament clones at times, but sheer quality is enough to divert attention from that. The classic chug of the riffs and spot-on overall reverb makes this a memorable album for 2003.

This isn't really one for the speed freaks out there, but the material honestly doesn't require breakneck speed to make an impression. It certainly is a thrill to hear a new sound that conjours up the skin-tight jeans, fully patched denim jackets and Reeboks, while maintaining a stern modern day integrity. (8.3/10)

Been hearing about this group for a while now as it features members from UK noiserockers Iron Monkey and Pitchshifter. Neither of those bands ever did that much for me, so I wasn't expecting too much. And it sounded pretty much how you’d expect (although no electronic weirdness, which the Pitchshifter connection might have you expecting).

Amphetamine Reptile-style drunken, noisy scumpunk, a musical set of brutal brass knuckles to the jaw. Thuggy, sloppy, punky, almost Misfits-y noise rock brutality with crunchy riffs, growly, guttural vocals, fuzzed out bass, and pounding caveman drumming. Like a sped up/revved up Eyehategod, or a less sludgy Iron Monkey. Pretty cool, but nothing too earth shattering. (6/10)

There was once this band called Xerobot. They were perhaps *the* weirdest, most retarded sounding band ever. Like, it was so weird and cool that it began to warp the fabric of time and space around your person until you were awestricken by the uniqueness of what your ears were picking up. Like, it was so off-the-wall and whacked-out that it was art. Crazy, barely in control, angular music and the most oblique vocal interjections ever, including the unforgettable "we’re too tough to paint!" screamed over and over. You can’t find this record anywhere.

Horse the Band may not be as weird as Xerobot, but there’s something about Horse’s sound that made me think of them. Really, really bizarre, technical music with brain aneurism vocals and epileptic constructions.

Then Horse the Band throws in prog keyboards. The same kind that sound totally gay in all the prog bands that use them. Except here, they sound really great, proving that if you use anything intelligently or creatively, it’ll work. In fact, Horse would be nowhere without their keyboard player, and how many other aggressive, heavy bands can you say that about?

The best songs of R. Borlax are clearly at the beginning, with "Cutsman" being the best of those. The second half is a bit less remarkable, either because Horse the Band tries to get too weird than they can pull off for their own good, or maybe simply because their material isn’t quite as strong. Regardless, from the packaging to the music, R. Borlax is a unique album well worth checking out. (8.3/10)

House of Low Culture’s debut album stands as one of the better drone/ambient records out there. Guitar-based, it succeeds in being drony while at the same time offering the listener something to relate to through the familiarity with the sound of an electric guitar. Other guitar-based dronesters are out there – most notable of all being Sunn. But the unique signature style of House’s Aaron Turner (Isis, Old Man Gloom) makes the riffs and mood more immediately palatable.

Fast forward three years to the sophomore album, Edward’s Lament! The first track may cause some worries that Turner has junked his vision and gone the way of innumerable noise artists with directionless, abrasive sound, but showing some patience (track 2 and beyond) proves otherwise.

Turner has built on the very solid frame that held up the House of Low Culture sound on Submarine Immersion Techniques (the first album), which succeeded in its simplicity. Now, the sound has more layers and colors, as well as a few ambient noise pieces, to go along with what sounds like the national anthem of all drones.

One of the things that House of Low Culture does really well within this framework of ambient drone (or noise) is make music that is an exemplary representation of the genre, but isn’t alienating. House’s music is comforting and soothing, yet simultaneously engaging and stimulating. Another great record. (8/10)

The intensity of the blast beat-fueled moments of the first few seconds of After the Fire seems like it’ll rise above the crowd of the group of samey metalcore acts that seems to be growing by the day. But unfortunately, what turns out to be is that In Dying Days is just another metalcore band that screams and smashes and gets wayyyy boring. The five-song album is 20 minutes long and you wouldn’t mind it ending halfway through track three. (4.3/10)

If you glance over and take a look at today’s death metal scene, you will find that unless you are willing to spend hours digging to find something decent, it has become a rather dull and uninspiring affair; bands are popping up like vile weeds everywhere, all trying to get a piece of the action but rarely leaving the listener satisfied with their redundant version of what has been done for years and years.

However, since you are one of those that is willing to dig a little, I suggest you check out Beneath the Folds of Flesh, as it is truly something fresh and exciting. Combining the speed and brutality of standard death metal guitar work with a more funky drum style that delivers interesting rhythms with high precision, this album works from start to finish. If you listen carefully this album is highlight upon highlight.

These five Swedish lads outdid most Death Metal bands walking about these days (including label-mates Morbid Angel) and created what could very well be the extreme metal release of the year. A stunning and impressive debut album. (8.7/10)

The Sea & the Rhythm continues right where The Creek Drank the Cradle (review in issue #14) left off - and thankfully so. Soft country music with whisper vocals soothe the savage beast.

Like all the other country that we review in Maelstrom, this is not to be confused with the general, mainstream notion of "country": songs about how my baby done up and left, sung by guys who are physically unable, by law, to *not* wear cowboy hats - even in their jammies. No, this is nothing like that. Call it alt-country, or better yet, call it folk - American style.

Iron and Wine, in particular, is just Sam Beam and his one acoustic guitar, playing one or maybe two very simple riffs and delivering lilting, hypnotic vocals. Our girl Larissa Parson likened Iron and Wine the ideal thing to put on while swinging on the front porch - and that’s the truth.

The vocals are a lot like the pretty stuff that Simon and Garfunkel immortalized, but obviously without the harmonies. But the vocals of the two are effective in a similar way. Timeless, the sound of Beam’s voice makes you long for the simple, comforting world that Iron and Wine exists in.

In the midst of all this angst-ridden, extreme metal listening, we all *need* records like Iron and Wine’s The Sea & the Rhythm. I know I do. (8/10)

The sophomore jinx has hit fledgling label Cruz Del Sur pretty hard. Their first production, Pharaoh (review last issue), ruled, but Jezabel’s got more than a few suspect aspects about it that make it one to pass over.

Classic power metal stylings for sure, but if your singer isn’t all that great, then you’re dead in the water. And for 68 minutes, Jezabel’s frontman delivers a long album’s worth of a backup singer doing lead vocals. And the clueless melodies and wailing, wandering delivery are the metal equivalent of bad R&B singing.

Someone’s also got to put an end to the kind of keyboards found in Legiones Del Sur. If you’ve heard Finnish power metal or prog metal you’ll know about this. Keyboards that sound like they’re made out of Lego blocks have no place in any kind of music that uses the adjectives "heavy" or "power" to describe itself.

Jezabel might have an audience in those disgusted with the contemporary styles of heavy metal, and the fact that all the lyrics are in Spanish is a charming point. However, said fans of the genre will always be looking for a good vocal performance before anything else, and those fans will probably be happier looking elsewhere. (4.6/10)

Well, this album started out promisingly. The drums and guitars are extremely tight, and the clear-sounding production helps bring the technicality forward. However, the vocals ruin the CD. The banal lyrics are sung with a bit of gritty seriousness that only serves to piss the listener off. There’s practically no growling (which is a blessing, really, ‘cause when it does make an appearance it’s not worth listening to at all), and the singing does nothing but suck.

Acoustic instruments are featured on some tracks for the more reflective, ballad-y sections, again ruined by the lame vocalist. However, the acoustic touches along with some electronic elements add some good variety. The guitars and drums clearly know what they’re doing – they stay in perfect sync and bring some heaviness to the table, as well as some nice touches of technicality (especially from Steve Rooney on the drums). Though thoroughly enjoyable (minus the vocals), there’s nothing revolutionary on this release. I’d much rather listen to Soilwork.

I’ll give it a 5, though it could’ve easily been a 6 or 7 if the vocals were more palatable and some less poppy-sounding rhythms were thrown in. (5/10)

As the concept of art becomes gradually vague and abstract, therefore permissive and inclusive, the world rapidly progresses towards a state in which every form of expression may be considered an artistic product, deteriorating the notion of art to a valueless term. In order to create "visual art" all one has to do is to produce a visible entity, whatever it may be; in order to be a musician, all he should do is make himself audible.

This chaotic situation, reinforced by the monstrous progression of technology, confronts us with an innumerable abundance of artists. Nowadays, anyone interested in committing an act of public self expression, be it due to truly pure, idealistic urges or simply a yearning for recognition, is able to easily do so. However, as the spare time we allocate for such exploration of art ever remains finite, the benefit derived from of the phenomenon is quite limited. On the other hand, we inevitably find ourselves drowning in the accumulating heaps of potential, possible genius, simultaneously being flooded by enormous amounts of junk.

Being placed in such a frustrating position, one has to narrow his choices. The most practical method for such a selective process, leaving aside the desperate alternative of total randomness, is, as ever, following well renowned names of artists.

In terms of choosing wisely amongst the avant-garde and experimental genres, this selective method becomes crucial. Many of the products of these genres require no technical abilities or professional musicianship, but merely the most common home computer handling skills. The recording of such abstract musical pieces may be completed, at times, in nothing more then a few hours. But he who has renown based on past achievements is granted the collective affirmation to be heard.

KK Null is a good example of this. Being active in the avant-garde scene for over 20 years, getting to cooperate with leading icons such as John Zorn, Steve Albini and Fred Frith, he has rightfully earned his life long position of a recognized, credible activist.

Atomic Disorder is constructed of ten tracks of exclusively computerized, synthesized sounds. No melodic or harmonic elements are featured on the album. The sonic timbre is rather homogeneous. It sounds as if KK Null has deliberately strived at establishing a representative array of childish, archetypal sonic symbols of alleged modernism and technological progress, founding and applying an aesthetic glossary of overstated, extremely shallow, inhuman and cynical engineered voices. Each different active being in the sounds may no longer be described as either an instrument or a defined part played by one. All are simply sound effects.

This minimalist arsenal of expression is, again, applied in a rather limited variety of manners. Most of the tracks present an organized, methodical rhythmical structure of insignificantly evolving mathematical patterns; others depict an undisciplined image of straying, disjointed, geometrical sonic formations, lacking any unified common denominator; some are completely arbitrary, or simply indolent and lethargic. Nevertheless, it seems as if KK Null has skillfully, menacingly denied the possibility of the album to be atmospheric or to serve as background music: the sounds are usually screeching and squealing, causing a sheer physical inconvenience for the sensitive human ear. It may have many possible meanings; surely, it wasn't meant for calm, carefree enjoyment.

A creation such as Atomic Disorder leaves much room for subjective interpretation; the artist has given birth to the object, leaving each of us to derive from it an absolutely personal, singular meaning. For e, some parts sound like a deviated longing for childhood symbolism, sounding similar to the innocent, magical imagery of war in the eyes of the infant of the pre-CNN era, a battle in which the guns fire luminous laser-rays and bear no casualties.

Alternatively, KK Null may have attempted to explore the world of mechanism and its relation to the human mind: perhaps his allegedly cold and estranged scene is actually a sobered, unprejudiced view of our existence as predetermined, meaningless, vain, biological machines?

Another possible analysis, even if a rather trite one, is the album being a cry against the uncontrollably expanding, outraging technology and its monstrously widening effect on our lives.

On the other hand, it also may include a much more personal statement: the refined effects/sounds on the album possibly symbolize the world of a person emotionally or physically detached from his ideal of ultimate, flowing existence, being able only to experience artificial, peripheral consequences of the truly significant event, ever frustratingly remaining outside the reach of his grasp.

Either way, one shouldn't forget that the album offers little more than intellectual pondering. The listening experience is rather dull and unpleasant, not properly rewarding the listener for enduringg its monotonous sequence. However, it was made by no other than the famous KK Null. (???/10)

The last time I heard Labyrinth was 2000's Sons of Thunder. And while Labyrinth is a vast improvement, there are still a few things left wanting. As I have said many times, power metal is no longer as simple as once it was. A power metal band must have something truly exceptional in their armoury to make their mark in this day and age.

This particular Italian ensemble have been quite inventive in many respects, including their use of slap bass and colourful keyboard tracks, but so much about this album can be found in so many others. Roberto Tiranti's vocals, for instance. I mean, the guy may be an accomplished singer, but there's no distinctive style there. Is it any wonder that bands like Blind Guardian, Nightwish and Rhapsody have received such acclaim? All of them have forged a sound of their own.

The Ibiza intro to "Synthetic Paradise" doesn't help matters, whether it was intended as a joke or not. To their credit, Labyrinth do seem to have absorbed some kind of Dream Theater influence, particularly within "Hand in Hand," which I would have to name as the strongest track. No doubt this will go over a storm in mainland Europe, but remember this: the term "melodic metal" has been used to peddle a lot of suspect material. (4.5/10)

Try to explain to a non-extreme metal fan how your favorite bands’ albums all sound the same, and you’ll get confused looks. But it’s true: if we like one song by a band, then we don’t mind if the band keeps playing that same basic song over and over again.

But it’s trickier than it seems. Ironically, there’s some fine line to toe over making an album the same yet making it different. Seems logically impossible.

Anyway, let’s look to Hate Forest for a nice guide to this dilemma. All of Hate Forest’s albums up till now have done the exact same thing. Thick, churning vocals over fast, abrasive, black metal guitar, and a drum machine. And Purity is no different.

However, past Hate Forest albums seemed to have this quality of needing to be remixed. It was all a little too much about the vocals. Purity fixes all that and delivers the best overall sound this Ukranian one man project has done yet. Also thrown into the fold are improved slower parts that don’t lose any of the faster bits’ intensity.

So the redundant realm of Hate Forest is safe. And as always, you get mysterious, black and white artwork depicting alien, austere nature. I don’t think anyone would have it any other way. (7.2/10)

Don't mistake this album as a reissue of a Leviathan record previously reviewed in Maelstrom. The title is indeed the same, but all songs are brand new.

Leviathan accounts for an unbelievable 18 albums to date, and I am honestly at a loss of how to precisely distinguish this one from all the others. In this album Leviathan has adopted a more conciliatory sound, though this album would nonetheless traumatize most people, who would try to immerse it along with their entire stereo in a font of holy water. But all in all, It just doesn`t have so much of this dripping, coarse, dying out atmosphere to it like previous Leviathan works do.

This is not to be read as a disparaging remark on Leviathan’s work. Recently I have begun to understand Leviathan as something of an organic, living beast, searching, preying, digging, dismantling, digesting and reforming man’s feared dark sides. The music goes for your soul and unerringly lays bare the abysses of your alter ego. The phlegm you get with its songs.

review by: Roberto Martinelli

There *is* something curious about the new Leviathan. But that may have a lot to do with how familiar you are with the band’s huge body of work.

The Tenth Sub-Level of Suicide (volume two – volume one being self-released and practically impossible to find) is the best produced Leviathan yet. It’s still all recorded on a four track, but those recordings have been taken to a professional studio and improved. As a result, the sound is fuller and thicker.

However, the material itself is pretty run-of-the-mill as far as Leviathan is concerned. It’s a bit of a shame that the best of both worlds couldn’t come together for this occasion. But there’s somehow more to it than this. There are re-recorded pieces that appeared on previous recordings, such as "The Idiot Sun" (from Leviathan #12, Howl Mockery at the Cross) and "At the Door of the Tenth Level of Suicide" (from volume 1). And improved as the sound may be, the original recordings are superior.

But this is all from the perspective of a long-time Leviathan fan. Due to the scarcity of the unsigned recordings, most people will be beginning their exploration of this marvelous band with the album reviewed here. And the core values still remain the same. Leviathan is simply some of the best black metal anyone could ask for, even if the album sounds retread and relatively uninspired. Keep in mind that average for some bands is unreachable for others.

The Sun Rises and the Sun Sets...and Still Our Time is Endless has a pretty package and layout, but essentially Life in Your Way boils down to being Hopesfall, but at 2/3 strength in everything they do. If you haven’t heard yet, think metalcore, but not the brutal kind, with lots of clean guitar interludes and clean singing. Life in Your Way is more on the emo side in their lyrics, and do have a part or two that would be worthy of being on a Hopesfall record.

And while being a poor man’s Hopesfall is still not too bad, there’s no strong case that you really need this. Sure, Life in Your Way does stretch for a little originality with a piano outro, but wouldn’t you rather have something wholly original? There’s plenty of it out there. Of course, if the sun rises and sets with Hopesfall as far as you’re concerned, then go for it. (5.9/10)

It's a sorry state of affairs when a Wacken festival appearance is the only way I got to hear about such a fantastic band. For all curious parties, Lordi are a Finnish metal outfit whose image is essentially a horror comic style a la Rob Zombie, except more theatrical.

I suppose that Get Heavy would make an ideal soundtrack to a haunted house ride, going purely on the song themes. Beyond that, every single track is just irresistibly catchy in a way that is rarely found these days.

Think Hey, Stoopid-era Alice Cooper, although Lordi seem to stand as one of a kind in the new millennium. They dress as ghouls and zombies, and grace us with such ribcage rattlers as "Would You Love a Monsterman?" and "Rock the Hell Outta You."

To start with, you've naturally got to be curious about a band who sing the words "The devil is a loser and he's my bitch."

The attitude exuded by the music is worth the price of the album on its own, and the quality of their presentation can't really be disputed. I can well imagine the reluctance of the many to take Lordi seriously. Different story fifteen years ago. I would simply say that they rock.

At the end of the day, it's just got to be appreciated on a different level to most bands because no other bands emerging these days are anything like them, and in most cases, those who influenced them have been moving with the times. I think the last comparison that could have been made was with GWAR, and even that is a pretty loose comparison.

Basically, just pour a glass of your favourite poison, kick back to "Monster Monster" or "Not the Nicest Guy" at full volume, and you'll feel that smile spread across your face. Or you'll feel yourself fighting it. (9/10)

review by: Mladen Škot

(review added 8/2008)

After Finland's debacle on this year's Eurosong contest, it is safe to assume that the pop-whatever audience still isn't ready for real metal. Although it was a pleasure to see Terasbetoni, with all the headbanging, two bass drums and proud vocals doing their heavy metal thing in front of an audience of millions, very few votes went into their direction. The Lordi phenomenon happened only once, and probably never again will. You might say that they are not metal at all, but, even if so, metal fans don't mind to be entertained once in a while.

You will find many respected musicians going crazy over KISS, WASP, Accept (okay, Accept ARE metal) or Twisted Sister — and there is a little of each in Lordi, but mostly, there is something monstrous in them.

Now, don't expect to hear a goregrind band. Lordi's philosophy was very simple: to create a band they'd like to see on stage. They look like monsters for the 21st century, and I know a pesky 13-year old Christian girl who still claims they are repulsive and offensive. For the civilized world, Lordi are just hilarious, brainless, headbanging fun. They aren't trying to be anything else, and for people who miss the innocent '80s stadium hard rock/metal, they are the modern solution.

Of course it's necessary to look awesome onstage. But not like idiots — if KISS look like leather machine tarts and sing about love and parties, and WASP like chainsaw weapons while singing about being sex beasts, Lordi are doing the whole deal. Wanna hear what monsters sound like when monsters have fun? That's Lordi. It's all ridiculous nonsense, but what a grandiose one. "The Devil is a loser, and he's my bitch..."? Hell, yeah.

Of course you can't separate their image from their music, and there's no need to. Would you still like Dark Funeral without the corpsepaint, or the sight of Gorgoroth in Capris and sandals? How about Slayer onstage, wearing suits? Thought so. Absorb the image, have a chuckle and forget about Gwar... at least I have never met anyone who has ever heard them, but some sources say they sound nothing like Lordi. Turn up the volume and enjoy.

What you get is straightforward and simple, deafening mid-tempo hard rock with a catchy chorus, and totally sing-along, fist-punching melodies. The riffs are effective and minimal (try to play anything harder wearing a costume), Lordi seem to always play the same chords through the same song structures, and still each song is a monster on its own. The lyrics are hilarious, the melodies delirious and if you're not actually sitting tied to a chair and trying to over-analyze, you'll never get enough of them.

Get Heavy is only the first Lordi album, originally released in 2002, but it is never too late to get acquainted with it. It might not appeal to you if you're feeling especially grim and necro, but when your mind needs a rest, and you would rather slash your wrists than go anywhere near pop or love songs (unless they are about burying the one you loved and killed), get Lordi. (8/10)

Not only does Polish-born Swede Wojtek Lisicki head the greatest power metal band on the planet, Lost Horizon, but his death metal band, Luciferion, is pretty damn great, too. Too bad for all death metal fans that Luciferion’s debut, Demonication is so relatively unknown, because it’s a high speed, precise metal thrill ride that was really before its time.

But back to the present and Luciferion album #2, The Apostate, only seven years on the heels of Demonication. And it’s quite different. Most apparently, you can hear a lot of riffs that would be right at home on a Lost Horizon record. And secondly, staunch fans of the first record might be disappointed.

The Apostate is a concept record. The story is primarily told with ample movie sound clips, the kind of geeky science fiction clips that complement the nerdy metal guy image that Lisicki has so cultivated with Lost Horizon. The clips are great. But the thing that may turn off death metal freaks are the keyboards. Yes, they’re very gay. But not necessarily bad. They’re of that variety that you can imagine being in some sort of Transylvanian dance musical. The scene is the inside of a campy, creepy castle. The keyboards hit and slutty vampire ballerinas wearing see-through nighties come skipping down the stairs on tippy toes. But if keys like that worked for Emperor, why not here too?

So it’s up to you to figure out where you stand on the keyboard issue. Rest assured that there’s a whole lot else to this record, like furious guitar and awesome drumming. And if the keyboards drive you bananas, you’ll be happy to know the last five tracks are of unreleased material from 1994, back in the fearsome days when it was just guitar and bass and drums. There’s also a hyper speed, brutal, blurred-out version of "Circle of the Tyrants." Anyway, it’s a very good disk, but some should proceed with a little caution. (7.9/10)

Like its soundtrack by seminal Ulver (see review in issue #12), "Lyckantropen," a Swedish short film directed by Steve Ericsson, may be a special source of interest to numerous metal fans.

Those expecting a jolly feast of growling canine men, slaughtered infants, bleeding maidens and silver bullets, will be disappointed. However, it does definitely deal with a horrifying concept, even if much subtler and understated: the conflict between the traditional, civilized, warm nucleus family and the lone, cruel wandering individual; between unleashed wilderness and conditioned domestication; between Dionysus and Apollo; between Animal and Man.

The plot is quite simple, simplistic and abstract even: it depicts a family of a husband, wife and a young daughter, torn apart by a probable affair in which the mother is involved. While the surface level appears to be quite idealistic, featuring the traditional archetype of a western cozy, happy family, it is actually permeated with ominous motives from its very beginning. Applying creative, well planned shots, the director manages to thoroughly capture and convey distressing, alarming flickers of animalistic angles in the cultured bourgeoisie. Besides the easily noticeable wolf imagery (like wolves seen on TV and in the street), the concentrated viewer will notice the sudden, momentary wild and raw appearance of the parents in certain cases.

The relationship between the husband and wife reaches its vivid, thrilling peaks only when their natural grain is let loose. Their innermost, ineffable shared emotions are always expressed by sharp, passionate glances, heaving breath and lustful physical, intimate touch. On the other hand, when following the rules of human society, pleasantly lying in bed with glasses on eyes and cigarette in hand, returning to the safe homely chamber after a day at work, they always seem helpless, disorientated, and detached.

Moreover, when their daughter is present, symbolizing the grounding factor in their life, they draw apart from each other just as an animal trapped in its cage would.

The daughter’s part bears a certain duality: while functioning as a partition, separating the parents and standing between them and boisterous nature, it also represents the innocent, pure consciousness of the free, untamed individual. She feels comfortable with pictures of wolves when seen on television, although filled with great anxiety when noticing the brief, wild apparitions in her parents’ behavior.

As greatly induced by Ulver's soundtrack, one will watch the movie with a growing sense of unease. Just as the construction of the trusted family gradually decomposes, shards of instability are imbedded with different subtle, delicate visual and audible means, increasingly evolving to the atmosphere of an impending catastrophe.

Here lies the only weak point of "Lyckantropen." While it artistically deals with an intriguing issue in a talented, tasteful, interesting way, its analysis is rather simplistic and superficial. It seems that while putting much successful effort in the statement of the main subject and designing its leading motives, it lacks a further deep, cerebral dimension. When choosing such a significant philosophical matter to be engaged in, one is obliged to treat it more insightfully. Perhaps the limitations of a low-budget, short film are one of the causes for the flaw.

Nevertheless, although not ultimately fulfilling its potential, Lyckantropen is a gratifying piece of visual art, both on outwardly aesthetic and essential underlying levels. Recommended, regardless of Ulver. (7/10)

Malignancy has more variety in their songs and cleaner production than most. This is probably because they actually experiment with time changes and other technicalities that would get lost in dirtier-sounding production. They’ve got great timing – hardly a note out of place. The vocals aren’t discernable, but that’s not really important. Cross-Species Transmutation is a solid album. The only complaint I have is that it’s too damn short. (6.5/10)

Short and sharp, clocking in at 11 minutes, this 6 track EP is a whirling maelstrom of avant hardcore, post punk chaos. Very reminiscent of classic San Diego hardcore/screamo, Clickitat Ikatowi, Heroin, and that sort of thing. Super dynamic, with stuttering start/stop arrangements, swirling and confusing dissonant guitars, pounding, tribal drumming, muffled, shouted vocals, and occasional damaged/sputtering breakdowns.

Once in a while, Mara'Akate slip into full on rock mode, spitting out an almost White Stripes riff, but it's quickly sucked under again by walls of sludgy, atonal crunch. Arty and spastic but still pretty nosiy and heavy. Amazing robot packaging too. Also has some CD-rom videos and stuff! (7/10)

Yup, that's a negative number. -1/10. This album makes me want to put Britny Fox’s Springhead Motorshark on continuous repeat.

It’s really hard sometimes to review bad albums. The lack of anything worthwhile musically, lyrically and rhythmically makes it difficult to point to what was specifically awful about it. I mean, all of Days of Fire album is bad. Worst of all, it’s dedicated to the memory of somebody. Can you imagine? At least try a little if someone’s supposed to be remembered by it. I mean, who wants to be remembered with shit?

Anyway, back to the music. I’ve said it before, but simply playing as loud as one can is not a sign of talent. And whoever writes the lyrics for Meatjack apperantly doesn’t think that taking one’s time is essential. The not soon to be classic "50 Years" states "There is no life. Drained. Dry. Drunk. Feed. Control. Burn. Seething. Choke. Feeling." Fascinating, but what are we to take from that?

"Cold Fight" starts out with "Stench of Life. Caught within. Silver tongue. Misuser." Inspiring to say the least. In fact so much so that I wrote a little jingle for the band: "Don’t. Sucks. Quit. Scrabble. You’re. Pizza. Day. Couch. Job." (-1/10)

Glancing at the track list of Meltdown's demo release, one may wonder about the rationale behind the song order: surprisingly, the second track is a cover of Iron Maiden's "Wasted Years."

Now, when a novice death metal band starts promoting itself, especially when full length album is distributed, they should most likely try to prove their own concept and identity. Featuring a cover at the beginning of the album doesn't do much to serve that purpose.

However even before even reaching the discussed cover song, the aforementioned puzzlement is easily resolved. The death-ish Maiden interpretation is a nearly perfect representation of the band's aims and qualities. Unfortunately, these are not at all encouraging.

Some (mostly Swedish) bands have taken the best of NWOBHM and mixed it with death metal to form what is known as melodic death. And they’ve done it well. Sorrowfully, Meltdown seem to have taken the absolute worst characteristics of each. From Maiden they mainly adopt the standard, simplistic minor scale melodies and hollow, pointless use of formulated harmonies. From death metal, they remain loyal to the restrictive conventions of the narrow minded genre, embracing comically raucous growling vocals, monotonous, repetitive compositions. And the unprofessional (even if not utterly unfit) playing skills, and hideous mixing don’t help. This kind of music is mere groveling to the appreciation of the stereotypical metal fan. It is a fake and languid sense of pseudo-aggression.

It should be noted that Meltdown's creation shows some positive facets. At times, they do manage to create a mystical, magical narrative atmosphere, a bit similar to the one typical to other Mexican bands like Under Moonlight Sadness and Buried Dreams. However, it still bears the disadvantages of composition, playing and sound. Also, when epic, story-telling elements are concerned, it is better to make the lyrics available, in order to help clarify what’s going on. (3/10)

Is it set in stone that because something is "radio friendly," it can’t possibly be good? Beware of that trap, good reader. By description alone, Mindfield is an alternative/ metal band that you could expect to hear over the airwaves, but it’s in fact more.

By description alone, Mindfield plays heavy music with slightly rough, clean vocals that sound like Metallica sometimes and ethereal Goth duo Lycia the next. But what Mindfield provides most is SONGS. Precious songs. And when you listen to a lot of music whose main point is to go really fast and be as aggressive as possible, it’s good to have a break.

Be-Low has plenty of great tunes. Tunes that engage you and stick in your head. Tunes with soaring choruses and memorable riffs. Will it be one of the best albums of the year? Probably not, but at the same time, it seems to have gotten played here at Maelstrom HQ a lot more than a bunch of other albums that got more scintillating reviews. (7.2/10)

Don’t you just love one-man projects? Especially the ones where the dude is all alone in his bedroom? Mirrorthrone is just that. In fact, it plays it up, with a credit on the back of the CD clearly saying that the music was recorded, mixed and mastered in the bedroom of Vladimir, the Mirrorthrone man.

And don’t you just love when said one-man projects also rule? Mirrorthrone does. Red Stream is a pretty strong label, and Of Wind and Weeping is one of their best releases.

Of Wind and Weeping is very dense and melodic. The songs have lots of parts and are quite long, but don’t seem so due to the engaging nature of the compositions. Mirrorthrone’s music is very deep: wonderful interactions between the guitars and various (superbly) synthesized instruments, and striking, clean vocals. Of Wind and Weeping has the best vocal harmonies of any black metal record, ever. But it’s not all loneliness for Vladimir, who is joined by a woman, Marthe Gallaz, on vocals on two songs. If Gallaz looks anything as good as she sounds, then she’s pretty cute.

Shredding guitar and overdrive drums cut into melodic interludes of sweeping, delicate emotion. And Vladimir can play his instruments masterfully. The only thing it seems he can’t play magnificently are the drums, so he makes up for that by programming a drum machine into oblivion. The detail and artistic sense of the programming here ranks with Necrophagist, among the best.

During the Christmas season, there are these TV ads in San Francisco for a jewelry store called Zales, and another jeweler called De Beers. Both use this kind of piano signature that obviously has a pretty big impact, as I can’t stop thinking of those ads when the piano solo parts come along in Of Wind and Weeping. Well, the De Beers ads in particular are shot where you only see the black and white silhouettes of the people in the ads, inevitably making me think of "Psycho"; like, the husband is going to stab the wife to death with a diamond knife.

Of Wind and Weeping is actually a compilation of material that was recorded over the span of two years. The stuff fits together pretty well, but you can’t help but notice that the quality of much of the earlier material, found at the end of the disk, is below the standard of the most recent stuff. It’s a small bone to pick, but it’s the only thing separating this album from a perfect score. (9.7/10)

review by: Matt Smith

Somewhere, hidden deep within the toilets in Kings Cross Station, London, UK, lays a secret British government experiment in time travel that attempted to link the distant past to the far future. Or at least that was the plan. Instead, the calibration got all messed up (isn’t that always the way!) and the mid 80s ended up getting a new neighbour in the shape of the early 21st century. All but forgotten about now, a few brave souls still venture there to ride the gauntlet and share in the rich cultural treasures that both eras have to offer. Or to buy lots of Enron shares and make a killing in the markets.

AGF (or Antye Greie) found it too, if her new album, Westernization Completed, is anything to go by. A bizarre cut-up of icy 80s goth-queen vocals and contemporary glitched beats, it falls uncertainly between two stools. The album is meant to function as one of those "oh-dear-isn’t-technology-alienating-but-hey-I-can’t-live-without-my-iPod" experiments. Yes, those. If you grit your teeth through some tracks, though, it’s a failed but intermittently enjoyable excursion. Two or three tracks shine; "PRIVATEbirds" (yes, IT’S one OF those albums where the TITLES have to be IN a MiX of lowercase and…you get the point.)..ahem..

"‘PRIVATEbirds," for example, sounds like the best pop music you’ve never heard, a call-and-response hip-hop-esque brew-up/mash-up/love-up/whatever between Antye and her laptop with a fantastic vocal riff that teases the listener with the promise of a full-on melodic mash that never arrives.

Ditto "contemporaryWESTERNIZED"; Antye muses about growing up in her native East Germany over echoing synths stabs and punctate rim shots. It’s perversely danceable if you’re an octopus on speed. And on through the last three tracks; look, I get the overwhelming impression that there’s a very good EP in this album struggling to get out. It’s struggling, though, and that’s why the album rates a 6/10.

As each of us sadly knows, thousands of extreme metal bands, adhering to the excuse of supporting an underground current, produce a shallow musical product composed of little but the application of familiar, worn out, trend and genre-following  principles. The final outcome varies in performance level and professionalism, yet ever common in their lack of originality.

The latest release of Misanthropic brings bad tidings for such claiming artists. Remaining loyal to rather common stylistic elements of old and later schools of death metal with an occasional BM shading, they contribute nothing to the already laden palate of the numerous sub-genres of the scene. Nevertheless, Misanthropic still manage to construct an interesting, valuable, creative and original piece of art.

Perhaps guided by their drummer, formerly in Agathodaimon, Misanthropic manages to forge an atmosphere unusual in its prowess and intricacies. Presenting a seemingly standard array of alternately crunchy, rapid, thrashy, down-stroking and tremolo picking guitars, fairly technical drumwork and at times a supporting keyboard player, they achieve a rare sense of genuineness. They approach the listener directly, delivering a unique message, at times bearing an ironically opposite vibe to the surrounding stylistic environment.

The music of Misanthropic inflicts the listener with contradicting emotions. Inside the whirling, tumultuous turmoil constructed by the rhythm section, the dynamic guitars often sound incredibly expressive, personal, almost human. But then again, the guitars also often sound simultaneously meek, vain, and gloomy. They bounce in their constant distortion, inevitably appearing in the context of their harsh environment.

When listening to the numerous pieces of the album, one's attention is constantly distracted between a roaming, heavy, low-tuned outrage to a moaning cry, wandering from a slightly unusual harmonized phrase to an enshrouding, eerie clean part. Separately, each of the mentioned elements doesn't offer any renewing, previously unheard notion. However, when being melted together, constructing the bedazzling state of cognitive dissonance with purposeful subtlety, they all adjoin to form a crystallized, conceptually harmonic creation.

However, the album is still far from being perfect. Even if being refreshing in its healthy implementation of the elements of a given genre without detracting from their artistic worth, Misanthropic are still imparted with a sadly common flaw: none of their compositions is imbued with true compositional brilliance. Although their craftsmanship of riff arrangement is more than decent, the album undeniably lacks the presence of refined compositional works.

Soulreaver is an uplifting apparition in our deteriorating world ofcommercial pseudo-extreme music, and is highly recommended for fans of standard blackened death metal. Nonetheless, for the yearning music fan, it should not provide anything beyond a temporary, passing comfort. (7/10)

Haha, is this the same Morgue that released Artgore? Well, what happened to all the gore? Artgore was a great album that blended in the noisy death metal style of Disgorge (Mex) with some cool old school influences.

Morgue have got rid of the old school influences almost completely, and have instead installed a brand new grind engine in their machine. Now they sound FUCKING pissed off and you had better stay out of their way.

The booklet claims that a lot of the inspiration for this album came from the events that occurred when this French band relocated to Cleveland, Ohio for what turned out to be a short stay (They passed up Cleveland, Ohio to go back to *France*? Who would have imagined that? - Roberto). Now back in France they have turned all their bitter experiences with a certain record label (or was it the other way around? Who knows...) into half an hour of pure aural hatred.

I was indeed disoriented when I heard this for the first time. For one, the vocals are so different I would never ever have guessed this was Morgue. Gone are the low grunts, which is now replaced by a screaming style employed by many grindcore bands. The music stills retains some familiar signatures, such as the abrupt pinch harmonics, but is much tighter and faster than before. Gone are the gory lyrics and songtitles, now replaced by cryptic introspective writings.

There are two things that work against this album: one is the lack of variety in the vocals, and the other is the lack of variety in the tempo. Even though I enjoyed listening to this relentless assault over and over again, I could not help but feel that I preferred the earlier Morgue. (1 less than the 8.5 that Artgore would have got/ 10)

You know I love my metalcore. But there are SO MANY bands that sound exactly the same. Not that I don't love that sound, but c'mon, you gotta try to make that sound your own.

Murder Weapon have their metalcore down pat: chugging, downtuned guitars and blasting drums, but for me the whole thing is marred by shout-y tough guy vocals and weird little guitar leads. Less metal, actually, and more NY hardcore ala Sick of It All, Hatebreed and that sort of stuff. No blast beats, just lots of punky 1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2 tempos. Metalheads should pass, but punk rockers may find themselves windmilling wildly around their room! (6/10)

After a couple of tries, Nartvind finally broke through my barrier of scepticism. True, Until Their Ruin sounds as though it was recorded through the built-in mic of a tape recorder for the most part, and the music itself might sound a little rough and ready, but the feeling is definitely there.

Nartvind hail from Belgium, and specialise in a very cold and raw brand of black metal. The vocals are among the most throaty and abrasive I've heard within the genre, and coupled with the brutal guitars, this makes for some pretty evil noise.

There are some quality moments to be heard, including "Black Metal Mist" and my personal favourite, "Valleys of Extermination." The only track that lets the side down is the mood-crushing "Hail Self Destruction." The imperfections in timing and such can be forgiven simply by considering the nature of the music. (6.8/10)

Indulge me. What exactly do you think of when someone mentions Finnish music? Chances are that (as a loyal reader of Maelstrom) a copy of None More Black - The Finnish BM Scene is sitting dog-eared in your bookshelf, you’re already saving up for your next "Desecrated Graveyards of Helsinki" tour, and a t-shirt proudly proclaiming "The CHILDREN OF BODOM Were Innocent" adorns your chest. I applaud your ability to express your opinions. Just stay away from my ‘hood, pal.

Most of the mainstream world (well, me, at least) first encountered the Finnish music scene through the sensationalist treatment of some of its more "interesting" proponents in the press, and the fact remains that it has a certain reputation in the consciousness of John Q. Music Buyer. So I had some idea of what to expect from Nazca’s second album, Non Grata. Desecration, blasphemy, and probably a side-order of screaming "to go."

Nope. It’s goth, through and through, resplendent in all its mid-80s, mascara-wearing glory. Now, I’ve never let my feelings for a particular genre of music get in the way of a good tune, but I just can’t get past the flat and uninteresting vocal lines, facile lyrics and crappy synths. There are a couple of rays of light in the dungeon – the disc’s sound is crisp and well-recorded, there’s a ghost of a tune on a few tracks, and it all starts pretty well (the first two songs could almost be another band), but sadly, the disc is more likely to be used as a shiny coffee coaster than darken the McG stereo ever again. (3/10)

There’s a big gas crisis again here in the United States. People always lose their minds when stuff like this happens. I think it’s time for a change. Perhaps car makers can invent an engine that runs on vitriol. It sure as hell works for Nephenzy Chaos Order.

Nothing less than acidic spittle can drive the blazing, superhuman melodies and impossible drums found on Pure Black Disease. Throw in the throat-slit vocals and you’ve got something that’ll really appeal to fans of Octinomos and the like. But in this case, the drummer is *real*. You may not believe it, either.

Maybe they should rename the band NeFRenzy Chaos Order.

But N.C.O. (as they’re also called) mix it up in speed and heaviness, and to good effect. The band slams on the brakes after a song or two for some heavy, plodding guitars and deep, metal riffing grooves, without losing intensity – which is more than you can say for the slow songs of Octinomos. It’s a great way to pace the record. Me? I’m stuck on "Wounds," the ripping opener.

N.C.O. exude a fierce hatred of the activities of mainstream society and humans in general. Old hat for metal, for sure, but there’s something about the stuff coming out of Sweden lately (Craft, Shining) that makes black metal veterans notice. But even if you don’t buy into the whole image thing, Pure Black Disease is a highly recommended album for any manner of extreme metal fan. (8.8/10)

Ambient releases are a tough one to deal with. The whole idea is for the soft and lush rumbling to guide you into a trance-like state and create a wonderful and relaxing atmosphere. Vast expanding soundscapes filled with harmonic synths and a variety of samples all come together with that one goal.

But what if nothing happens?

On the Edge of Forever sounds promising on the first run, but then after the second or the third listen there are some things that get unpleasant, mainly the pretty electronic feeling of the samples. Maybe this is more for the SF ambience buffs, but I’d rather have it more natural sounding.

Nothing happened, but maybe the right moment hasn’t come yet. (5/10)

Most people assume I don’t know what I’m talking about when I say that I’ve been losing interest in Nevermore ever since Dreaming Neon Black came out. I guess it all has to do with when you got introduced to the band. Those of you who have been following Warrel Dane’s work since his Sanctuary days will know what I mean when I say that his voice just isn’t what it once was.

I got introduced to Nevermore with their debut self-titled album, an album which attracted my attention more due to Warrel’s tortured wails and some good solid songwriting rather than fancy solos and pretty arpeggios. The second album, Politics of Ecstacy, had guitarist Jeff Loomis starting to show the world that he could play. And lets face it, unless you live in the heart of Timbuktu, you know by now that he can play some mean guitar. Politics... preserved some of the rawness of the debut and also had some real hard hitting riffs, along with the trademark Warrel style vocals.

It all started going downhill from there onwards, with their last, lack luster album, Dead Heart in a Dead World, being the pits: a mechanical beast that so totally lacked the feeling of previous Nevermore albums.

So how does the new album compare to all the above? First, the production totally SUCKS. New producer Kelly Gray has smoothed the edges so much that listening to this feels like you are sliding around on a highly polished marble floor. Sure, turn the volume up and you’ll get plenty of booming bottom end, but it sounds so sterile, goddammit!

Next on my hit list are Warrels’ vocals. I’m pretty sure he’s aspiring to do another James Hetfield-like transition. Not only has he lost all of the power he once had, he doesn’t even sound like a metal singer on most of the songs.

So should you throw this CD into the dustbin? Not quite. Why? Jeff Loomis. He has come up with some such marvelous riffs that make me cry as I try to think how they would have sounded with all other factors of their debut album being intact. In fact, the riffing on this album reminds me a lot of Politics of Ecstasy in the way that they are hard hitting, yet with plenty of feel and played with a certain amount of looseness that doesn’t give that mechanical type of feeling the last album gave. "I, Voyager" and "Create The Infinite" will give you the perfect picture of what I’m talking about.

They have cut down on the number of slow ballads this time around, with only one or two of those. And in "Seed Awakening" you’ll get the most aggressive song Nevermore has ever written, with a starting riff that sounds like it came right out of the Bay Area metal scene of the 80’s.

Yeah, like their last few albums there are some songs that you’ll skip over everytime to listen to the CD (the boring "Noumenon" or the polished sweetness of "Tomorrow Turned into Yesterday") but that still won’t deter you from playing the great songs on this over and over again. (7/10)

There is something naturally morbid about Nightfall that is quite appealing. Having certain elements of Rotting Christ to the sound, you can’t help but wonder if there's something in the Greek water...

I Am Jesus may take a few listens to really grow on you, but you’ll be glad you gave it the chance. The melancholic atmosphere somehow falls outside the standard goth metal category in a manner I can't really explain. It's almost as if Nightfall are just one of a kind, with their own brand of darkess. Just when you feel like comparing them to Moonspell or Daemonarch, they change direction.

However, there is something far too restrained about the music. Maybe it's just the sound of the finished product, but despite the already bulldozing power of the songs, it feels like Nightfall have been holding back. But that's really all you can bitch about.

I love the way that simple ideas are expanded and decorated – such as in "Muscat (Darkdark Road)" and "Treasures in Aramaic Tears (Echelon)" – by the varied orchestration and the often machine gun feet of drummer George Kollias.

I wouldn't say that this album is designed to jump out and grab you by the throat...more to stalk you and wait for you to let your guard down, but at the same time, there are parts of I Am Jesus that allow you to slip into a very peaceful state. With time and patience, it makes for some very good listening. (6.5/10)

For legions of death metal fans the world over, the name Tomas Lindberg alone will sell this album. At The Gates, The Crown, Lock Up, he impressed us time and time again.

There does seem to be something a little odd about the line-up of Nightrage, though. Lindberg is joined by the power metal stylings of vocalist Tom Englund and Dream Evil/Mystic Prophecy guitarist Gus G. Completed by guitarist and founding member Marios Ilopoulos (ex-Exhumation), bassist Bruce Leclercq, and The Haunted's powerhouse drummer Per Jensen, this band have something very special to offer.

I for one was hooked on the first listen. "Circle of Pain" is a glorious stab at sweet sentiment, but at the same time each and every track has a certain emotional quality to it. Opener "The Tremor" is a solid example of the modern death metal ideal, and Lindberg's vocals add some serious guts to the whole album.

In a sense, Nightrage fill the gaps left between Arch Enemy and Deicide, with a new panache that I find refreshing.

It's safe to say that this bunch are in their element. Death metal has developed to just the point where their sound will put smiles on faces. I wouldn't use the term "accessible," but it does have that relatively "ear-friendly" thing going on. I like it, and if this sounds like your cup of tea, then what are you waiting for? (7.5/10)

If you read the interview with Nordvargr in this issue, then you already know that the man behind this album has a wide array of musical projects. Noise, folk, ambient; he does it all. Give this man some equipment and he will create wonders out of thin air. He did so with HH9, the Toroidh Trilogy, and with this Nordvargr release it is no different.

This album is ambient with an edge; even though it manages to create an eerie atmosphere it keeps falling back on somewhat "harsh" and noisy rhythms to lull the brain. With mechanical rumblings and more, each track works like some twisted soundtrack you should play late at night while trying to sleep. Guaranteed that you will not, and instead experience and discover some wonderful moments on this disc.

Lovely highlight of this album: the song "Cellardweller," where MZ.412 buddy Drakhon helps out by rumbling his guitar. (7.9/10)

I wouldn't say that this blend of Dark Tranquility, Amorphis and Children of Bodom is really my cup of tea, but no harm in giving it a fair trial. The Finnish sound is unmistakable, and in a similar manner to Dimmu Borgir's Enthrone Darkness Triumphant, the keyboards are ruling the roost a little too much, but Mirror of Madness is not without its qualities.

I can imagine that many In Flames fans will lap this up; melodic "death metal" (if it can really be called that) with a nice upbeat power metal mood. Attempts have been made to create a somewhat sombre atmosphere, but with Stratovarius keyboards, Norther are fighting a lost battle. For what it is, this album is pretty solid, though lacking in distinguishing features.

The real downfall of this stuff is the assumption that as long as there is a constant flow of ear-friendly chord progressions, the rest will take care of itself. More substance is needed! I'm not doubting Norther's collective musical ability, but the songs should be a lot more thought-provoking. (4.8/10)

This is a pretty thin issue as far as good power metal is concerned, and Omen isn’t helping out. While this band has good vocals and more than a few tasty dual guitar harmonies, the songs feel stale. Who can say if the problem lies in the recording or production, but Eternal Black Dawn is lacking big time in the urgency department. (4/10)

These guys come from the Black Sabbath heavy metal tradition. Place of Skulls is spearheaded by a powerful and experienced partnership of two metal legends, Victor Griffith and "Wino" Weinrich. The most recent and careful additions to the band are Tom Tomaselli on drums and Dennis Cornelius on bass.

Although metal is not my chosen venue, I have to say that with this CD, I am transformed. This stuff is huge, powerful and flexible. It is lyrical, mythical and beautiful. From the moment the music presents- it takes the listener to a land shrouded in mystical lore and alive with magic. It has a "Lord of the Rings" kind of sensibility to it.

These two go way back where they played in bands like St. Vitus, Pentagram and The Obsessed. Victor himself was a founding member of uber doom band Death Row, and as a guitarist in Pentagram, from which he eventually had to go on hiatus. Seems he was plagued by the devil of self-destruction in the City of Angels. Stands to reason. The hook up with Weinrich seems to suit them both brilliantly. Two fabulous, searing, soaring, evocative guitars and a Middle Earth drummer that rocks the world, takes me to places I have only dreamt of. The CD arrangements are interesting, complex and invigorating.

I feel like some bad-ass knight of yore, smoking a bone, driving down the endless highway in a ‘75 convertible Camaro, enlightened by ‘Vision and Place of Skulls.

Thanks, guys. Great CD cover too! (9.8/10)

The Mexican sickos with the unreadable but really cool logo are back with their second full length, and what an improvement it is, soundwise and music wise too. They have lost some of the rawness factor that their debut album, La Realidad Es Sangrienta, had, but that has been replaced by grooving and grinding parts a-la Haemorrhage and some really cool, demented muppet vocals. Sometimes the vocals just degenerate into what sounds like a couple of mad dogs barking away.

The guitars sound heavy - really heavy - and the playing is much tighter this time around; take a listen to "Nightstalker" to get a feel of how tight they have become now. But lest all this talk about groove and heaviness leads you to think they have lost out on speed, I must say that Luis knows how to smash the snare violently and fast. His abrupt speed changes on the blast beats reminds me of the first Tu Carne album. And to top it up, they’ve included two killer covers of Napalm Death and Necrony.

This album, just like Rompeprop, can come in very handy if you want to show your friends what some killer grindgore needs to sound like. This ends up as Pick Of The Issue #3. Rating: (8.5/10)

Ok, first of all, the fans that are mentioned in the booklet who have been requesting for this band to release a cover album should have their stereos removed and their CDs burned.

In fact, let me elaborate on this and say that Pro-Pain should have their instruments removed and be given a nice day job. I don’t know much about the history of this band, but according to the little statement given in the booklet they have been around for over a decade releasing "original" records.

Nothing original about this disc.

I have no wish to go and find out how accurately they followed every note of every song they covered but from what I can tell they took the easy way out and gave them all a generic punk-rock meets metal sounding flavour. The only highlight on this disc would be the somewhat decent Celtic Frost cover, the rest is tedious and uninteresting. If you are not a fan of this band, keep your money somewhere safe and spend it on something worthwhile instead. (4.5/10)

Profanation insist on being very workman-like when it comes to the brand of deathgrind they play. You’ll get to hear deep guttural vocals, chugging riffs that can certainly induce a decent moshpit and overall song structures that simulate the mosh effect that Skinless songs provoke.

The riffs are simple and to the point, and are mainly effective thanks to the nice and heavy guitar sound. Actually I have to say that the sound they achieved at Polygam Studious is fantastic for this kind of music but this advantage has been partly neutralized by the inability of their music to step outside the norm.

I hope that next time they will step on the gas a bit and write more songs like "Blood Drenched Ground" and "Dead World": two of the best tracks on this album. The latter in particular is by far the most brutal song on this CD and does show that these guys are capable of some serious carnage. Let’s hope that some serious carnage is what they serve us with next time. (5.5/10)

Leave it to the Dutch to take something ordinary and turn it into something special. These fellow countrymen of mine are taking a big piece of the death metal cake (or corpse if you prefer) with this second full length, so be ready to digest and re-gorge the feast when you pop the CD into your stereo.

Finally being able to utilize the wonders of a flesh and blood drummer, their music has taken a huge leap forward; no longer will you be annoyed by electro-drums. Natural sounding drums is a must in the death metal genre and we’re all glad Tim stepped in to breathe life into the drums and add another face to the kitschy band photos.

This album is filled with above-average death metal. Prostitute Disfigurement manage to stay clear from the over-saturated, "standard" way of writing and deliver one of the highlights of this years releases. Satisfaction guaranteed!

On a side note, Niels should receive an award for best pig-like vocals, you’ll never hear anything quite like it. (7.6/10)

Rifforama and a lot of screaming add up to almost nothing today. Why, even Punishment themselves sound bored by the time these eleven tracks have been hauled through the headphones. And what’s with the singer anyway? Did he get locked out of his Live Journal account?

"Dead failure hit our soft spot. Rotting swallowed more than my share of disgust for this world. Despite my best effort my prayers were not heard."

The photo in the CD tray is of some depressed, small town – El Centro or Calexico maybe – and the only thing that kept me listening. And hoping something would happen. (3.5/10)

This Dutch band certainly doesn't seem to have had any second thoughts about following in the same direction as on their debut MCD, Bodybits. And this time they have come armed with a second guitarist, a meatier production, sharper riffs and a whole new bunch of killer songs (like "Skull Tortured" and "Scorched Face of God") that will appeal largely to fans of down-tuned, old school death metal. On the other hand, some of the really muddy old-school feeling on Bodybits has been lost in the process of sprucing up the mix.

Toep does an excellent job on the drums with a lot of variations, and the judicious yet highly effective use of the double bass pedal has to be appreciated. The inclusion of the second guitarist into the fold seems to have tightened up the riffing, giving a boost to the shotgun-blast-in-your-face factor. It's nice to see Putrefied getting more aggressive in their style but it's during the slower parts when these guys sound most menacing. One point I would like to add for the benefit of the band and/or label: please don't use JezusLooksLikeMe-Possessions for creating the cover art next time; they have made a real mess out of it. (7/10)

Just two songs into this album, and I was pretty sure that this was going to be my Pick of The Issue #1. Reek of Shits has just replaced Pigsty as my favorite Bizarre Leprous Productions band (maybe I’m speaking too soon as I haven’t heard the new Pigsty MCD yet, but what the heck).

Heavier beyond anything else reviewed in this issue, containing more devastating grooves than all the albums combined together and having the perfect blend of really fast grinding parts and immaculately played chugga-chugga sections, this is just the kind of album that causes a short circuit in my brain and disables my normal logic circuits. Listening to this makes me want to GRIND! Listening to this makes me want to KILL! Listening to this makes me want to LISTEN TO IT AGAIN! Pick of The Issue #1. (9.5/10)

Those cheeky bastards at Deathwish record have done it to us again. Packaged something so exquisitely and so EVIL-y that we could only assume this was going to be some serious, grim black metal. Eight panels of woodcut demons, black on thick brown cardstock, with THERE IS NO GOD printed on the back. Really nice.

But what this actually is, is a reissue of some seminal metallic early nineties punk rock, Ringworm's 1993 album, The Promise, and an additional handful of demo tracks. Pretty good stuff, actually. Thrashy drumming, buzzing metal riffs, throbbing bass and shouted hardcore vocals. Metalheads might find this a little too punk rock, but it's still pretty relentless and heavy and brutal. Especially considering this stuff is 10 years old. (7/10)

Dean Roberts is a new addition to the Kranky stable, although he’s been making guitars sound like jet engines since the early 90s. He was in a band called Thela, who released two quite brilliant-yet-harrowing albums to some distant fanfare and zero sales. After Theda split he embarked on a solo career that found him using laptops and guitars with equal ease, all the while producing music that I found easier to admire than actually like.

So when the press release stated in a matter-of-fact way that "Be Mine Tonight is a recording of songs," it was an intriguing premise. Dean Roberts? Songs? Ok, power drills, prepared guitars and the sound of a thousand Kenwood multichefs making a cake for Thurston Moore – that, I could handle. But songs? What dark marketing guru had taken over Roberts’ career?

I shouldn’t have worried: this is no sell-out album of over-produced pap. Instead, it’s a very successful marriage of Roberts’ guitar improvisation and sound manipulation skills with more traditional rock musical forms and instrumentation. It’s a record that sounds both lush and stripped-down at the same time: Roberts sings in a hushed, fragile voice while some excellent drum work from Antonio Arrabbito gently cajoles and leads each piece along, buoyed by clouds of hazy guitar chords, sparse bass and piano.

At times, the record sounds remarkably similar to late period Talk Talk and Mark Hollis’ first solo album: all shambling, stumbling piano chords and jerky rhythms slowly coalescing into a beatific whole. Yet don’t worry: every time the record threatens to get too polite, there’s always a distorted guitar or a slightly atonal chord just around the next corner, as if Roberts’ past recorded career is threatening to break in and start those Kenwood mixers up again. But overall the tone of the record is languid and sad, melancholic without being self-indulgent. It’s definitely an album that will divide the masses, but I like it a lot. (8/10)

I doubt that even spending a few days in Sodom or Gomorrah would be as enjoyable as listening to this Rompeprop album. And it definitely wouldn’t be as interesting as reading their lyrics.

Pathological gore lyrics are uninteresting and sociopolitical grind lyrics are tiresome; we all know by now that the government sucks and humans are a bunch of cunts.

What we don’t know is what a "Coughing Coffin" is.

As you bounce about to the beat of this grinding revelry, check out the lyrics to the fifth song, which tells the story of a dead man who can’t sleep in peace because his coffin keeps on coughing.

Jokes and humor aside, this four-piece can indeed grind. Try to imagine a goregrind version of an improved and faster Blood, mixed with the bulldozer groove of Cock and Ball Torture. The sound is almost perfect, just a little less heavy than the mammoth sound Reek of Shits attained on their new album. The riffs are razor-sharp and immensely crushing, and the drummer is pretty deft with his hands as well as feet.

I tried hard to decipher who was playing what in the band, but some rather cryptic descriptions thwarted my attempts (tell me what does "cumlord of bloodcockrape AAH" and "sarcastic fuckslutpounder of tupperware-negroes" mean to you?). All in all, this is a good solid piece that has narrowly missed out on being listed in my Top 3 list for this issue, and can only leave you craving for one thing…an induction into the legion of the "Vaginal Luftwaffe"! (8.5/10)

Infected Tendence have recorded four quite good songs for this split. Freaked out blasting rubbing shoulders with some catchy riffing. The good sound helps definitely but it's a pity that the songs are too short. They get over just as one really starts enjoying them. However, it’s pretty great the way the drummer increases his speed in the middle of a blastbeat and yet manages to stay in time.

Kremush take a more melodic approach to their music. The bassist seems to be pretty good and he puts in some wild little fills in the first song. But the brutality is still present and that's a good sign. The second song starts off with a riff that I'm sure came from Monstrosity's song "Manic." These guys have a lot more variation in their music than Infected Tendence. Another plus point is the punchy snare sound.

Now it's back to brutality with Nefarious Crypt. The drummer has a good speed on the kick drums and the blasts, but he goes a bit off-time on the double bass in the first song. The guitars are tuned low and the vocals are the standard death metal growls. It's hard for me to say which band I liked more: Infected Tendence or Nefarious Crypt, so I'll take the easy way out and say both are equally good. The addition of Kremush is a plus point for those who get easily bored by standard brutal death metal.

(Infected Tendence - 7/10 Kremush - 6.5/10 Nefarious Crypt - 7/10)

This is a split by two Austrian bands, one of which plays straightforward grind. The other plays what they call "noise grind," but in fact it ultimately turned out to be crusty grind with some peculiarities. Rotten Cold are the first band and they play some to-the-point grindcore with proficient and scalpel edged riffing. The vocalist seems to have taken some inspiration from Barney Greenway and the only weak point in their music is the drumming, which really needs to have more variation. What’s more, the drummer needs to work on his speed to do the riffs some justice. "Milk of Greed" and "Here to Hate You Again" are their two best songs on this CD.

Monolith, on the other hand, have worked hard to stay off the beaten path. They start their part of the story with a foreboding piece that builds up very slowly but turns out to be too long for its own good. A highly distorted guitar tone sets the base for their mid-paced, crusty endeavor, and with liberal doses of weird clean vocals they manage to catch the listener’s attention, though it does leave a lot of room open for the listener to decide whether to take it positively or not.

I personally found the clean vocals to be interesting, especially in the way they have been worked into the songs. The only time when things got slightly out of hand was the starting to "More Emotions," which reminded me of some crappy pop tune I had heard years ago and made me cringe visibly. A decent release overall. (Rotten Cold - 7/10 Monolith – 5.5/10)

This promo features six songs that will ultimately fill one side of a split CD (the other half being taken by Mincing Fury and Guttural Clamour of Queer Decay) and I can already tell you that it will be worth it for the Screaming Afterbirth side alone. This is grind the way it's supposed to be played.

Fast and funky.

They differ a little bit from the other bands in the genre (porno/gore grind) mainly because of the hysterical vocals. One moment you hear "a hundred words a minute" barfing only to be greeted by high pitched "kick me in the nuts" shrieking the next, all nicely topped off with some "strangled by my microphone chord" growling. The music itself in these six tracks are above average, filled with funky sounding breaks and the somewhat standard, yet satisfying US Death/Grind drum sound (a la Waco Jesus but more elaborate). Too bad they had to cover Terrorizer.

If the other half of the forthcoming split holds up to their end of the deal than this split will be well worth the money. (no rating yet/10)

review by: Matt Smith

These guys are good for a bit more than just shock value. They have an interesting tone; even when they’re going fast, they manage to make songs sound laborious.

It’s some ultra-heavy death metal that comes at you in a wall of sound. They’ve got really crunchy grooves accented by impossibly muddled growls and throaty screams. Of course they’ve got the obligatory samples that get one thinking about warfare and dismemberment. The fuzzy production adds to Screaming Afterbirth’s heaviness, but you can still pick out the different lines pretty easily.

Twenty minutes of pretty intense death metal. And who can’t get a laugh out of titles like "Stump Fucked Piss Flaps" and "No Orifice Shall Remain?" The song titles may be original, but their sound isn’t particularly. (5/10)

Already being members of several prominent groups of the respectable Finnish black metal scene as Horna, Pest and Behexen, the members of Sargeist obviously don't consider themselves obliged to be groundbreaking all the time. And while not being unique or revolutionary, Satanic Black Devotion will grant the listener with the privilege of experiencing a coherent, well-manifested effort of extreme expression.

The music mostly uses continuous, stretching guitar riffs and multi-layered, tremolo-picked notes in order to create a dense, stagnant unity of shifting tones that lays the background for the vocalist's excruciated screams. Unlike angrier, rawer or more pessimistic acts, most of the presented musical themes prescribe quite a mild dosage of nihilism or disharmony.

Usually, the overall atmosphere is contemplative, ponderous and gloomy, a bit sinister, and most of all, vague and enigmatic. There is not much variety in the compositions of Sargeist. It seems that the songwriting is intuitive, perhaps even random at times, sticking to known, familiar, worn phrases of the genre. Also, there is nothing notable about the instrumental performance: the guitar playing never transcends the standard, and the drumming is mostly mediocre, at times even lesser than that. However, the different pieces do manage to avoid deterioration to tasteless formula, generating on most of the tracks a decent interest, even if none are especially memorable.

On the atmospheric, essential level, the band attains an impressive level of success, most likely achieving their own defined goals, establishing a proper expression of their world views and philosophy.

So, those searching for continuous progression within this genre may be disappointed by this album. Those of us remaining faithful to glorious nationalistic pride or self-contradicting nihilism should avoid this as well. On the other hand, whoever enjoys a good black metal album that doesn’t have anything new to say should be more than satisfied with Satanic Black Devotion. (6.5/10)

A talented power metal band doesn't mean a great power metal band. There MUST be some more substance than just technical ability. Italy's Secret Sphere are not altogether typical of their genre. The guitar tracks are a lot heavier than many, and the keyboards sound far more effective than in the tonnes of generic shit out there. A bold statement it may be, but I would have to say that in many ways this is power metal at its best.

The production brings the songs to life magnificently, but it is not this alone that distinguishes Scent of Human Desire. The band have displayed wonderful imagination when varying their style, delving into classic rock, funk, jazz and blues, whilst maintaining their infectious breed of metal at every step of the way.

Opening track "Rain" provides hooks that will draw in any fan of the genre, and as the catchy riffs and vocal melodies continue throughout, I find myself playing the album over and over again. It stands up to repeated listens and has that wonderful 'live sound' quality that few decent studio albums possess.

I can't deny that it can get a little over sentimental at times, but "Surrounding" and "Runaway Train" are quite irresistible. Secret Sphere - top stuff. (8/10)

Let me first say that listening to the "new" Sepultura, the one fronted by Derrick Green, pales in comparison to seeing them live. This is especially the case with Green, who is an striking figure, halfway between the Predator and a charging bull. He steams and beams at the audience, and his voice is as impressive as his presence. But on CD, or at least this one, he sounds much smaller. The same goes for the rest of the band. Live, they are heavy and brimming with aggressivity. On CD, they’re much slower. Still good, but different and much less intense.

With that said, Roorback is a pretty good album. But that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. Would Brazil’s most famous metal band release a bad record? Wait, don’t answer that question.

Roorback takes a couple or more listens to reveal its quality. There are more ideas going on here than an any other Sepultura record. You get the aggressive, kind of hardcore tunes that have become more of the trademark since Green’s arrival, but unusual bits pop up, like a plodding, heavy doom section, and clean vocals that really aren’t half bad. With that said, you keep expecting Green to shout out, "war for territory!"

But Roorback is indeed an album that is listened to all at once. It’s because it works as a collage of songs interwoven together carefully, but then again it’s also because the album is made up of 13 good little tunes – some are better than others, but none are classic material. It’s also a minor, arbitrary complaint, but the bonus, "hidden" material is more of a drag than anything else. At least the listener doesn’t have to attentively listen while holding down the FF button, as the hidden track is conveniently separated from the last, printed track.

The good news is that although the glory days of ol’ Seppie are far behind, the band is getting more intelligent and attentive to detail with age, and are far from dead. (7/10)

If you’ve been following black metal at all at any point over the last 10 years you’ll know what to expect from a new Setherial record. The Swedish band’s name has become synonymous (alongside others like Marduk and Dark Funeral) with speed-at-all-costs black metal.

And there are no surprises here. Rather, the point is to examine if it’s a blasting speed fest that’s worth your time. And it is. But you have to really be into this stuff. Lords of the Nightrealm, one of the band’s older records, is fast fast fast and oh, so boring. But people dig it. Endtime Divine is clearly better than that, with more interesting and slightly more diverse melodies and constructions. With that said, the same bass guitar parts seem to be used far too many times.

Nord, Setherial’s debut, will remain the band’s greatest work, ironically because of its dynamics. But Endtime Divine has got the sound and the fury to please lunatic black metallers hell-bent on warping their minds with numbing audial speed. (7/10)

I’m listening to Shadow Season’s The Frozen in the car at night as I hurtle down a stretch of highway flanked by forest. The road is windy and downhill and the damp smells of the sylvan night are trickling through the vents.

It’s the perfect soundtrack for the occasion. The rapturous, sinister buzzing of the music is made more so by the sound of the engine, stripping the album down even more to its most essential, effective elements: primordial, throttling, ambient black metal.

And it turned out that even standing still, the album still rules. Stylistically, Shadow Season is most easily compared to Hate Forest in the way both bands play in that paradoxical style that goes a million miles a minute yet doesn’t seem to move. The vocals are also low, like Hate Forest. But Shadow Season has a real drummer and more than one member, and have a few more tricks in their bag. So when violins show up on the first track, it just makes the whole experience better.

So I’m happy, passing cars, nearly gliding on the raw, painful buzz of The Frozen, when it all stops a mere 20 minutes after it had started. Surely the best things must come to an end, but not this soon. (8.2/10)

Shining has stated that the purpose of their creative act is to achieve what they call "suicide music": a sonic expression to be presented in front of the happy, calm, harmonious and balanced living man in order to undermine his optimistic foundations, inciting him to submit himself to negation. An examination of the band's goals reveals an obvious failure. No nihilistic imperative is sown within the listener's mind. However, while vainly attempting to reach their destination, the band does manage to create quite an interesting piece of extreme, impressionistic art.

Shining's method of artistic conviction is based upon rather lengthy, repetitive, mid-tempo composition, comprising rhythmical simplicity, melodic meagerness and harmonic void. By lining generic phrases of resonating, heavily distorted guitar churns, they sink the listener in a bog of atmospheric atonality, attempting to erode him with their unchanging, steady beat, thus manipulating the kernel of being. The instrumental performance is reasonable, even if far from brilliant.

The compositions demand very little technical skills, and an examining ear may still easily note quite a few errors and slips. However, these are lost within the overall sonorous distorted havoc, therefore do not seriously affect the overall listening experience.

Open-stringed harmonies and clashing overtones generate an addictive, sweeping sense of mischievous turmoil, supplying a proper (even if not at all original) representation of the standard dismal perception of careless time, finite existence and absurd reality. Then comes the confronting melodic line: utterly simple and expected themes of dim murkiness, again, bearing the same traits of intoxicating, hypnotizing repetitiveness.

From here stems the main flaw of Shining's ideological fulfillment: their music contains a single, unified, predictable dimension of powerful rawness. When experiencing the album thoroughly, one becomes adjusted to the disharmonious movements, adapts himself to the simple dynamics. The childish melodies are no longer symbols of disheartenment. A new world is born in which the subjective creator does not feel estranged, sad or desperate. He wonders within his inner realms, finds an internal level of peace, experiences a comforting meditative break, ironically begotten by the very same values that were originally wielded against him. "Suicidal music' should be ever dynamic, changing, unexpected, bewildering and disloyal, as true randomness is – a notion the band doesn't successfully follow.

So, Shining attempted to make us lose faith in the innate quality of our existence, and found themselves inadvertently strengthening and nourishing the positive flame of being. As disappointing as they may be to hear it, let me emphasize once again it is a fairly commendable effort of ideological, descriptive, impressionistic, atmospheric black metal (how’s that for genre labeling!). Recommended listening, which you might, not as promised, survive. (6.5/10)

On their debut album (see previous review) , Shining had attempted to fulfill the goal of plunging the listener into despair, depriving him of his last bit of optimism by depicting a murky view of the world in an extremely intense, clear and simplistic manner.

This time, the song structures, compositions and aesthetic aspects of the band's creation all share a decrease in their determination and decisiveness. While remaining loyal to the unquestionable prevailing bleakness, the music is not as descriptive in character, bearing a larger sense of ambiguity. Aesthetically, there are few notable changes. The variety of sound timbres has significantly grown; numerous guitar sounds are boasted, including a dramatic rise in the dominance of acoustic and clean guitar passages. These no longer serve as simple interludes, but now take a major role in the narrative of the pieces, pretending to impart them with a contemplative, uncanny feel. The distorted guitars have expanded their vocabulary, again, aiming at leaving a richer, thought provoking effect upon the listener. The bass lines have become much more free and expressive, also gaining a fair boost in the mix. On some tracks one may also find a rather dominant presence of atmospheric keyboards.

Now, as the reader may so far find the discussed album interesting and worthy of note, is the proper time to mention its deficiencies: although attempting to improve upon their art, the band members have obviously not improved their skills as composers or performers. Therefore, while previously limiting themselves to a rather narrow spectrum of ideological and musical manifestation, their more pretentious efforts unveil much of their fundamental disadvantages.

Shining has chosen to remove the veil of transfixing mechanical insistence of basic, raw musical creation, only to reveal their lack of formal musicianship. So, aside from eager fans of Shining's previous effort who feel enthusiastically obliged to explore the evolution of the band, I cannot recommend Livets..., surely not in order to get primarily acquainted with the band. You had better focus on the worthy debut instead. (4/10)

Sick of It All took more than two years vacation from the world, and the resulting full-length borders on purgation. Modern "punkers" could do with a large dose of this electric ablution. Disturbingly vivid in one go, these eighteen tracks have remnants of deep agonizing misery, emphasized by the minor chords and reckless yelling. They seem to have been born again brilliantly, and it’s time to phone a psychiatrist. (8/10)

Campfire crackling, a battle cry, rattling of swords and some majestic riffing as an intro. No, it's not Manowar. It’s Siegfried, and we should all consider ourselves lucky enough that they have not tried to copy more from the masters of posing.

The listening experience is bearable about up to the singer’s first utterance. The vocalist sounds, to put it carefully, very strained.  After a couple of minutes one grows really, really weary of it. Probably the only singer I am inclined to pardon for similar lack of talent is... Mille Petrozza, of Kreator.

Apart from occasional duets with like-skilled guys, Siegfried’s front man is on par with one of those boo-boo, sort of whispering, hissing-gothic-style female vocalists. And although he does that dire school of vocals as proud as possible, he is as inappropriate to Eisenwinter as he is incapable.

Perhaps the wretched guitar solos sum it all up perfectly: dull, predictable and uninspired, they rather proceed from chord to chord than develop personality of their own that fits into the overall performance.

To sum it up: Siegfried's fundamental problem is that it tries to unite elements that don’t belong with each other. The goth babe with Siegfried's metal arrangements might have found some audience, although if you understand German, you'll find it annoying how the Nibelungs' legend is exploited for brainless blood-and-honour lyrics. Hands off. (0/10)

Sikfuk seems to be following the formula pretty well. Creepy movie samples introduce each track, and heavy, deep waves of sound wash over it soon after. The guitars go "crunch," the drums go "thud," but I have no idea what the vocalist is doing. It goes far beyond cupping the mic – it sounds like the microphone was surgically implanted in the esophagus of a throat cancer victim. Nothing is discernable, really. It just sounds like a bunch of vowels.

"Eeee-ooo-eoeoeoeoe-ooooooooooohhh" Yep, that’s it, just at varying speeds. He must have gone to Lord Worm School.

Gore Delicious is dark, dirty-sounding and just sloppy enough to add to the heaviness. The intensity never lets up for a second. Maybe that’s part of the problem – the intros are the only thing that let me know when one song ends and another begins. Otherwise, the muddled tracks sound far too similar. But, like I said at first, this is the sort of stuff that United Guttural tends to like. Shocking, gory, and heavy as can be. (4/10)