The jury’s still deliberating on whether the name Cream Abdul Babar is either creative and cool or creative and lame. Regardless of the verdict, it’s good to discover that the music that the band plays is as eclectic and curious as its moniker. Cream Abdul Babar has feet kinda sorta in the metalcore and sludge genres, but at the same time avoids being strongly classified as such.

So it’s metalcore hardness, but when the fuzzed out keyboards appear, matching the equally fuzzed out vocals, it’s bliss out time that the above mentioned genres don’t generally supply. It’s heavy and seemingly simple and catchy enough to get into right away, but as you listen more and more, further technicality reveals itself to keep renewing the interest. Kind of weird and original on the level of Horse the Band, but not nearly as spastic and busy.

Kylesa’s half sounds like a mellower collaboration between Old Man Gloom and Today is the Day. Like the former, Kylesa peppers the music that is most closely dropped in the hardcore/ metalcore genre with sections of ambient noise and drone from guitar and electronics. And like Old Man Gloom (particularly the Seminar II album), the noise is anything but: soothing, engaging, meditative, and definitely creative and original, even to the band being compared to.

Much of Kylesa’s vocals sound like those effected, high, twisted, banshee-like, choral vocals that Steve Austin uses in Today is the Day, particularly on the In the Eyes of God record. The result here is also kind of unsettling, but like the music, much less angst and psychosis is conveyed. The comparison to Today is the Day also extends to the music, which is reminds of Today’s older albums: more square and slow and deliberate. But as stated before, Kylesa doesn’t have nearly as large a bone to pick with life as Austin and co., and when the fuzzy instrumental noise track ends off the split CD, you’ll be feeling refreshed and ready for another listen. (Cream Abdul Babar 7.5/10 Kylesa 8/10)

The most notable notion regarding the musical product of Angelrust is its innate lack of cohesiveness. They deliver the listener a batch of varied musical ideas of varying quality and interest, some of which entertain, but none of which are peculiarly innovative. The result is a compilation of detached metal-oriented tracks, some of them separately salvaged by flickering, fleeting demonstrations of creative spirit, which raises the whole to a level just above mediocrity.

Revolving around an abstract, semi-extreme metal core, the Ohio quartet explores different angles of aesthetic expression. First, their album features numerous elements of death metal in the vein of the latest products of the Swedish scene, composed of ordinary rhythms, simple melodies and harmonies processed to occupy trite guitars riffs overlain by standard growls reinforced by a chorus of clean vocal themes.

Now, it seems that after paying their popular debt, the band may allow itself to deal with some less catchy musical materials. While remaining far from being inventive or extravagant, some of the later pieces of the album include a vaster use of chromatic and bassy movements, generating a slightly sinister feel, especially when heard after a rather long period of absolute expressive dullness. Even if not especially interesting, the allegedly menacing segments of Angelrust are well composed and arranged; they never overly disorient or alienate the listener. The segments are always placed in a decipherable, somehow familiar context, thus giving the modestly unexpected moves of the composition more appeal.

As the incoherence of the song sequence is well clarified, the last chance to find any sort of concept may be the lyrics. The texts on Angelrust's songs deal with different aspects of man's inner world of anxieties, fears, compulsions and obsessions. Unfortunately, they suffer from an absurd, obscurely dominant presence of the most worn out rock-poetry imagery (Take the band's name for a fine example). As genuine as they may actually be, their hilarious staleness utterly sterilizes any effect they could possibly have, rendering them sound like a satire at best.

Therefore, being impossible to locate any common denominator in order to impart the album with a sense fundamental character, one has no choice left but focus on each track as an independent piece. There is not much to rave about the instrumental performance: the vocals and drumming are reasonable; the guitar playing is usually bearable, yet at times features some unignorable technical flaws.

Nevertheless, as bleak as the overall depiction of Angelrust may seem, there still is a certain charm to the band's work. Apparently, some of the band members have quite a witty, inspired mind, motivating them to intersperse the album with weird, often creative and enjoyable anecdotes: a bass solo break accompanied by clean guitars; amusing, awfully trebly guitar parts as a sort of parody of the band's actual whimsically thin, crispy guitar sound; voice samples of a drunk asking for beer, and more. As impertinent (not to say infantile) as it may sound, these features, adjoined by the few aforementioned compositional merits, do make the overall listening experience of the album, even if definitely not essential, quite entertaining.

Do not make any special effort of acquiring Angelrust's promo. If you encounter it, do not place it on top of your listening priority list. However, if you have an hour to spare, and do not feel apt to be immersed in profound, meaningful musical creation, this may serve as a decent way to pass the time. (5.5/10)

Well, don’t even bother looking at this one if you’re not into hearing some cheesy power metal. Or some Jesus. Crystal clear production allows the over-dramatic, preachy vocals to soar above the relatively flat-sounding guitars.

The drummer (Frank Gilchriest), who occasionally gets to flex his skills, takes a backseat for the most part, but he sounds like he’s the band member who actually knows how to play his instrument. The guitar solos substitute high notes for technicality. By the end of this CD, screechy vibrato and crappy guitar lines are almost as sickening as the religious references. There’s not much good to be said about this one. (2/10)

The music fares a bit better. If you like Soilwork, Legen Beltza isn’t too far behind. It might be a good guilty pleasure, this very listenable, thrash-pop stuff. The vocals are a little growly, but clear for the most part, and they add occasional harmonization.

Legen Beltza are tight and accurate, and it’s apparent that at least they have a command of their instruments. The songs don’t get REALLY boring, just *pretty* boring. I blame the poor grooves. At least the patchy English is fun to hear.

"Death has taken you as its prayer bastard friends take their hands, take their hands/ and go always waiting for illness, hoping to fill their pockets/ hey you shut up and give me that L.B. OUH! I am the only boss, God’s keeper L.B. OUH!" Definitely amusing. (4/10)

Who knows why they don’t think a little deeper about their beliefs, but it’s mostly about God’s wonder and how sin runs rampant. Ick. Well, the music doesn’t explore new territory, either. They stay together pretty well and have some nice intensity at points, but there’s absolutely nothing here that hasn’t been done a million times. Maybe religion is their "angle." Whatever it is, it isn’t worth listening to. (2/10)

Besides being formulaic, boring and instrumentally mediocre, Pissing Razors’ lyrics sound like they were written by an angry 12-year-old.

"Your broken back is playing me/living your live [sic] without a spin [sic] cant breathe, wont live/without any voice." What the hell is that supposed to mean? Not even in full context does it make sense, and that’s the trend in every song.

It’s pretty much ambiguously Christian slop. The song titles are equally uninteresting: "Fall Away," "Hanging on the Cross," "Perseverance."

None of this would be a problem if the singing were incoherent, but it’s all done in a nu metal style, sometimes harmonized, that make the content all too clear. The production is also very clear, making every mediocre groove that goes on far too long seem to drag all the more, especially when everything is at a rock tempo, barely pushing for fast intensity.

Apparently this is Pissing Razors’ fifth album in as many years. If this is "evolution," I’d hate to hear what came before. (3/10)

Unfortunately, a political flyer was included so I got to read the not so well thought out opinions of some nearly illiterate morons. At least the lyrics reflect this. It sounds like somebody spent a whole five minutes on each song.

Chris Barnes ain’t sounding so good these days, either: all strained and scratchy singing about "Amerika the Brutal" (notice the "k"... edgy!). It’s hard to take anti-war statements seriously when they are followed (on the full-length) by explicitly, mindlessly violent songs like "My Hatred," "Murdered in the Basement" and "When Skin Turns Blue."

The instrumentation is similarly mindless. There’s nothing here you haven’t heard a million times before. The only noteworthy thing about this album is just how terrible it is. (0/10)

According to their promo material, Spawn of Satan has been around since 1989, and this is their first CD. Maybe they should have waited a little longer. The production is fuzzy and makes everything sound distant. Their half of the CD sounds especially dirty.

They have a decent mix of thrash and death, but you don’t get the feeling that Spawn of Satan has come very far since they started up. There’s a hint of Slayer in some of the guitar riffs, but they’re mainly unimpressive, as are the weakly growled vocals and unremarkable drumming. Their live shows could very well be worth seeing, but there wasn’t a great groove anywhere to be found in this selection of songs. And the occasional sloppiness detracts greatly from the overall presentation. I always do enjoy a good, cheesy, Satan-worshipping romp, however.

Bloodsick’s half of the album is only slightly better. Come to think of it, the production may be the only improvement, actually. The two bands’ styles compliment each other, mixing old-school thrash with wishy-washy death elements. Bloodsick’s vocalist has more of a clear, thrash sound, and their grooves are a little bit of an improvement. But the guitar solos just sound like noise and the simple, standard drumming gets old quick. This album might have been better received if it were released 15 years ago, but now it’s only notable for how old it sounds. (3/10)

You might be expecting some goregrind from this band, but it turns out they play a style of brutal death metal that's fueled by some old school chaos akin to earlier Incantation. Visceral Damage have a raw and muddy sound that suits them perfectly, though it would have been better if the drums were brought out more in the mix.

The drummer has evidently put in a lot of effort on the double pedal and it's quite unfortunate that the sound doesn't match up to his efforts. The compositions are fairly complex and the songs are arranged in a way that augments the unpredictability of the material. The riffing on this demo is good; it is fast and chaotic and much more interesting than run-of-the-mill brutal death metal bands like Sanatorium.

Filthy and unapologetic, that's what Visceral Damage are like. And perhaps as if showing a sign of things to come, they sometimes unveil a grindier side to their music like on "Maggots Under Skin." But whatever they do, as long as they stick to the framework of this demo for their future material things will surely all be fine. (6.8/10)

review by: Bastiaan de Vries

Visceral Damage, the name alone brings a gore-filled tear in my eye. My faeces were celebrating heavily at the thought of soiling yet another generic slab of uninspiring comatose music, but I had to disappoint them as this demo turned out to be quite alright. It’s not overly technical, not overly impressive but somehow their heavy and thick sound makes me jiggle inside. Damn those Spaniards and their fancy way of playing Grind and Death.

All in all this is a demo worthy of spending your money on, but make sure you have enough left to get any of their other material as these five tracks (and one intro) are not nearly enough to fully enjoy the band. (4.5/10)

If extreme music is a compass, and if death metal is south and hardcore is east, then Zubrowska would be due south south east by south. Or metal metalcore, if you prefer.

So it’s metalcore, but with way more blast beats and "grab you by the throat and throttle till dead" songs, to go along with the screamy hardcore vox that you’d expect. But the drums are exaggeratedly triggered and pig vox are thrown in.

One on Six doesn’t give the listener much room to breathe, keeping up a blistering, technical pace throughout. It’s too bad that the production isn’t able to adequately breathe either, but we’ve heard far worse in this issue alone.

So the sound leaves something to be desired, but the relentless musical beating will most probably appeal to fans of Kalibas. (7.2/10)

Decade of the Nail-Spiked Bat is misleading in at least a couple of ways. One, although the title makes it seem like it would be a compilation, it’s not. Sure, the songs are all "old," but they’ve been re-recorded. So you get all the tracks on the Ample Destruction, Jag Panzer’s first album, plus other demo songs that were written afterwards.

Knowing the above, the second and far more important thing that could be misleading is that Decade of the Nail-Spiked Bat is good. And it’s pretty surprising that it’s not. I mean, Testament re-recorded a bunch of old songs, and that was supposed to be great, no? And Jag Panzer is now technically the best they’ve ever been, so what’s the problem?

Blame the production. The sound on this 2CD album is so stale and lifeless that any glimmer of energy is stamped out before anything can happen. And Harry Conklin’s wandering, histrionic vocals don’t help, either.

The original Ample Destruction is brimming with young metal virility and boldness. The re-recorded stuff is a major bore. Get the old album, and let the new Jag Panzer stick to recording new Jag Panzer material. (3.5/10)

It’s about time for a new Keep of Kalessin. I love those guys. It’s funny, too, ‘cause they do what so many other bands do: the speed, the aggression, the melody. The sensation of gorging on lightspeed brutality. Hell, the ride cymbal alone is worth it.

Lucky for us that in the meantime, we’ve got Handful of Hate.

Handful of Hate? More like *TruckLOAD* of Hate. Jesus Christ! Out from the starting blocks, this excellent Italian band deliver the kind of goods that would make Keep of Kalessin grin every so slightly in profound approval. Intense, fast, fast, fast songs with eminently hummable riffs. And the ride cymbal. That fucking ride cymbal. Like an interminable sequence of machete chops, dry and crisp and powerful.

If you dug Nephenzy Chaos Order (review last issue), or if you too are a convert to the Keep of Kalessin, click on the "buy it here link" and get this disk. You’ll be thanking me later. (8.6/10)

Vorkreist are fast and dirty and then dirty and fast. They’re not too concerned with playing clearly or tightly, and that’s just the way they want it. Listening to this record is like being shuttled through a leftover medieval basement encrusted with the vilest, blackest mold.

We’re not sure if "sabbathical" is in fact a word. I don’t think we should really look into it, though. From the songs' titles ("Thorntorment the Impaled," "Tread on the Cross") to the barbaric music, Vorkreist isn’t a thinking man’s band. But the limited scope of what this band does may get repetitive to some.

Come to think of it, Vorkreist is a lot like the baby version of Impiety in every way (you’ll have to try reaaaaal hard to one up Impiety’s song titles... "Sodomythical Frostgoats." haha!). But if you really dig Impiety, or Antaeus, or Bestial Warlust, you’ll be happy to have Sabbathical Flesh Possession in your collection. (6.6/10)

If Sting and Depeche Mode got together to form a goth metal band, then Klimt 1918 would probably be the result. The going on Undressed Momento is largely light and pretty goth rock, but every now and again some very furious double bass drumming and heavier guitar rear their heads to throw expectation on its ear.

You can hear The Cure now and again, too, on this record whose greatest assets are the vocals and the melodies they sing. Clean and lovely, the singing of Marco Soellner is ruined only in the use of that abhorrent vocal effect that Cher popularized on her "Do You Believe in Life After Love" song. Luckily, it’s only on one song, and only for 10 seconds, but still a half point off for that. Let it never happen again. (7.2/10)

Thunderforge is the most accomplished and mature album yet from this wonderful Latvian Pagan metal band. The heavy parts sound a lot like Sodom, but much less thrash. However, the album really shines in the acoustic sections, which are played using traditional Latvian folk instruments.

Most specifically, it is the way the traditional compositions are interwoven with the electric, heavy ones that the album shines. The harmonies of electric guitar, flute and some sort of bagpipe instrument are sublime, while the repeated presence of a stringed instrument that sounds a lot like a hammered dulcimer is a welcomed one.

Compared to Skyforger’s previous two albums, Thunderforge is much slower, and the black metal sound to the guitars and vocals is all but gone. However, Skyforger is moving along further in its own direction, and we can look forward to successive albums as being even better than this one. Be sure to check out our interview with Skyforger in our archives section to learn more about this very interesting group. (8/10)

As ever, live albums are meant for fans of said band. And In the Woods...’ Live at the Caledonien Hall is no exception. Is the album bad? Certainly not. The 20 songs on two disks have a very nice sound, and fans of the group will find that the material is reproduced almost entirely faithfully, although the absence of acoustic instruments, like cello on the song "299,796 km/s," is to the music’s detriment.

Also entirely absent are any harsh vocals, the kind that were on In the Woods... debut album. Although a couple songs from that record are represented here, they feature only clean singing. In terms of that, there are no complaints to be made. The male and female vocals are very faithful to the original, and again, fans will be pleased. On this record, In the Woods... material sounds strongly like 70s Rush ("Cygnus X-1") meets goth rock meets doom metal, all with a Norwegian flavor.

So Live at the Caledonien Hall is a very good live record, and it might be good enough to interest someone who has never heard one of this band’s studio records. But probably not. If you’re new to this band, start by listening to Omnio or Heart of the Ages, and then move on to Three Times Seven on a Pilgrimage. By then, you’ll be ready for this live album.

In fact, this is a double CD + album, as a 70-minute (actually 64) sampler from Karmakosmetix is included as a bonus. As expected from the aesthetics of the label’s design, the 16 tracks lean towards electronica. There are a few good cuts here, with the electronica stuff being the best, but the latter part of the album is a real garbage dump. At any rate, it’s less than likely fans of In the Woods...’ sweeping, heavy melancholy would necessarily be moved to look into any of the bands found on this comp based on hearing one track alone. (7.5/10 on a live album scale)

Rewind two years. An unknown San Francisco-based band called Hammers of Misfortune releases a metal opera entitled The Bastard, one of the best metal albums ever (review in issue #3). It wins recognition in Terrorizer as one of the top 40 albums of the year. But no one seems to notice. "Tragic" is only perhaps slightly too strong a term to describe this situation.

Back to the present and Hammers of Misfortune album #2, the digipak The August Engine. The band drop the concept ideas (despite saying that the missing elements to The Bastard’s story would be recorded on an EP – read more in the interview, also in issue #3). Instead, the new album has a very jam session feel to it. Yes, it doesn’t feel as deep, but it’s more easily listened to and digested without all the dramatic acts and parts. Now, it’s still quite epic, with dueling acoustic and electric parts and true metal harmonies galore. But much of the record is without vocals.

And in this sense, the new album is better than the debut in that the only weak elements – the rough vocals of band leader John Cobbett – are absent. Instead, what vocals that are present concentrate more on the irresistibly unique voice of Mike Scalzi (The Lord Weird Slough Feg), and bassist/vocalist Janis Tanaka, who sound better than ever. The vocals are less "operatic" (forced) this time around, allowing us to really savour the sound of the singers' voices. With these improvements, the plethora of unmistakable signatures of the Cobbett/ Scalzi duo are strengthened even further. (Since this recording, Tanaka has gone on to play bass with pop star Pink, and has been replaced with two very talented newcomers: Sigrid Sheie on piano and Jamie Myers on bass. Both do vocals. Although both are credited as being in the lineup for The August Engine, Tanaka does all duties.) 

The August Engine is the perfect album to listen to as we head deep into autumn. The ample acoustic pieces of guitar and piano, and soft singing are a charming reminder of the falling leaves, while the powerful heaviness, quintessential harmonies and instrumental interplay signal what is yet again one of the finest heavy metal creations any fan could ask for. (10/10, if not more)

Most people hate it when a song gets stuck in their head. You walk into the pharmacy and some Wilson Phillips song is playing and you hear it and GAHHH! it revolves over and over again in your brain for eternity. So it’s something we generally try to avoid.

So then try to explain this Gathering EP, Monsters. Five tracks, *all* of the same song, "Monsters," which you may or may not remember was on the previous Gathering album, Souvenirs. No, it’s not *exactly* the same song five times, but rather different mixes: the "Gallion Mix," the "Gauzy Mix," the "Dance Mix"...

Does anybody else wish all this fixation with mixes would just end?

Now, "Monsters" is a fine song, and any of these versions would be perfect on a proper album. But really, now, is there any reason for us to pay any money to hear it five times? No, there is not. Maybe this is missing the point of EPs, but wouldn’t you think an EP that came a year *after* a full length album would contain original material, or at least some diversity? Stick some live tracks in there or something. Anything but "Monsters" times five.

So it seems like a cruel joke. "Monsters" gets stuck in your head through rote repetition. The Gathering is such a great band, and anything they’ve done (with Anneke Van Giersbergen on vocals, anyway) is worth having. But skip all their EPs, and this one in particular. My great antidote for any unwanted music stuck in my head is Immortal. What’s yours? (3/10)

P.S. Inge from Psychonaut points out that there *is* 30 minutes of live footage to be found on this EP. Whoops. But if you're like me, you only put your audio CDs in your stereo or your walkman. And 30 minutes of live footage is cool, but it only makes this EP marginally more attractive. Figure out how much you dig your CDs on your PC and adjust accordingly....

P.P.S. Our girlfriend, the brilliant bio-chemist Hanna Cho, and the proud recipient of our copy of the Monsters E.P., would like to add that she LOVES listening to "Monsters" five times in a row. It takes all kinds...

People can go out of control with home movies. Extreme example: on a flight from Taiwan to San Francisco, a Chinese man recorded the electronic map and altitude/time to destination information for FORTY MINUTES until the plane landed. What are people like this thinking? But maybe he’d watch it later. Anyway, the point about home movies is that people get a kick out of seeing themselves and those they know on film. But you know how much fun it is for anyone else to watch.

Demos are a lot like the sonic version of home movies. I know how fucking cool it was to hear my meager drum skills matched up with equally amateur musicians on a shitty, shitty tape recorded on a hand recorder. What a thrill. That’s *me* on there! Wow. My friends enjoyed, too, but notably less. And people whom I didn’t really know that just happened to hear it for whatever reason were not impressed in the least.

The No-Mads 2003 demo largely falls under this category. Now, there are some good things that could one day be developed into something that people not in any way affiliated with the band would want to hear, like the aggressive riffing or the female thrash presence of Sylwia Papierska, who sounds a little like Tom Angelripper’s sister, but the Polish four-piece is still in the early stages. There are a lot of kinks to be worked out, like making the songs shorter or coming up with more parts. And if I had to hear another line that goes "....what *is* iiiiiit?" on the first song again... no, actually it was about 15 times too many.

And the kind of uncomfortable thrash rendition of the Beatles "Yesterday"? Stick that far, far at the end of a full-length. Like, as a hidden track. At least you can laugh it off as a joke when one day you are deeply embarrassed by it.

So 1.5/10 is in a sense kind of harsh for this band. They seem like such nice and enthusiastic people. And we honestly do support them in their efforts. But 1.5 represents to you, the reader, on whether these home movies are the relative kind that get aired on national TV alongside videos featuring a dog who can do flips off a wall, or the kind that are as interesting as watching your friend’s friend’s kid’s bar mitzvah. (1.5/10)

If you’re compiling a list of grave injustices in the world of metal, put Panzerchrist not being one of the most revered death metal bands on the planet right at the top of your list. This Danish group’s last record, Soul Collector (review in Maelstrom), was one of 2000's best – rumbling and armored and oh, so great.

The new Panzerchrist is called Room Service. A very strange choice for a band whose last record was all about tanks and sung in German. There isn’t much insight into this aside from the minute and a quarter title track, a real blaster, that features vocalist Bo Summer exclaiming "room service!" the same way other bands would scream "blasphemy!" before the blast beats kick in and end the world. So it seems pretty arbitrary, like Summer could just as well be growling "ham sandwich!"

But Panzerchrist is still very much about the tanks. Room Service is a bit less hulking than the last record, as the Panzerchrist armored division has gotten a slicker, speedier upgrade. The production is bigger and fatter and more impossible than ever. Likewise, the songs are more aggressive, with drummer Reno Killerich’s much advertised skills on display. The label has been pushing the story of Killerich being named "world’s fastest drummer" after winning some absurd drum competition in which he double kicked the bass drums 800 times in a minute. Sounds like the NBA Slam Dunk competition. The dudes can slam like gods, but the most famous players don’t take part.

Listening to Killerich’s drumming on this record has you shaking your head in disbelief, as much because of how amazing the drums are played and how they’re produced, but also because of how you really can’t help but wonder if they’re REALLY being played that way.

But regardless of the truth behind the producer’s curtain, the fact remains that Killerich’s style is tailor made to this band’s aims. The percussive element plays up the image of the inside machinations of a hulking machine of war as it rumbles over a hill, empty bullet and shell casings falling by the wayside.

The new Panzerchrist is undoubtedly an improvement over the previous record in every way. The sound, the energy. But there’s an undeniable charm that Soul Collector still has over the new record. For one, the lyrics are no longer in German, and Bo Summer’s unmistakable beer- and phlegm- drenched vocals are a bit drier. The guitar leads aren’t quite as remarkable as before, but that’s more a matter of taste than anything. And even though it is slower and less refined in comparison, Soul Colector manages to play up the tank, in all its fascinating coarseness, better than that album’s successor. You come to expect Panzerchrist to be the musical tank, so much so that when track seven, a cover of Metal Church’s "Metal Church" rolls around, it sounds kind of out of place.

But Panzerchrist is gelling as a steady unit. Unlike on Soul Collector, the Danish five piece are in fact that. No more bass and vocal duties broken up between tracks, or guest musicians providing solos. Room Service showcases an excellent band rumbling on all cylinders, and as before, is an album that metal buffs cannot be without. (9.5/10)

This album lives – it lives, yet only inside your head. No matter how real the disc and the packaging may seem, once you turn out the lights and close your eyes, this record slowly builds up momentum, resurrecting itself inside the very outskirts of your mind, only to crawl closer and closer, taking bits and pieces along the way, and finally causing a total black out.

Cellblock is dark, yet beams of light can be seen if you look up through the rusted bars and shattered glass of the prison windows that you are now lost in. It’s despair made sonic: slowly but surely the end is coming near, you can keep on running, but you can feel that it’s coming to get you.

With brooding bass rhythms, sweeping soundscapes that invoke a sense of timeless deliverance, and a clever use of female whispers and male talk, Cellblock reaches a state of absoluteness. Cellblock becomes a cellblock. Throughout the album, isolation stands above all else, desperation creeps up and catatonia is the final result. Sometimes mechanical in nature, sometimes atmospheric, but always a very frightening record with a very unnerving end. Almost like a story except that once you take the time to actually start listening, you start experiencing and find yourself on Heath’s cellblock, awaiting execution from the long dead and decomposed prison guards.

With this essential debut album, Heath has set out to create something new and refreshing, yet give us something more than we bargained for. More than we could handle. There is no monotonous feeling found, no hope, no warmth... just a cell with your name on it. (9.5/10)

This second full length album of "the Northwest's medieval torturers" is said to surely please fans of acts like Nile, Morbid Angel and the infamous Cannibal Corpse. While that is true to some (very little) extent, I wouldn't recommend Extermination Revelry to anyone who likes Nile, as that's a completely different breed of death metal.

Drawn and Quartered is a nice blend between the other two bands, though. This group is one of those that you either like or just feel indifferent to. Their music is of a brand that has been done to death but is never so rotten to completely disapprove of.

Found on this disc are nine more than adequate tracks (10 if you have a US copy, which contains a special US only bonus track) sporting a very old-school death metal sound, which, granted, will please fans of the aforementioned bands, but it differs just enough to raise (or bang if you will) a few heads. A fluent mix of excellently executed solos, non-stop riffing, double bass antics and low grunts... you've heard it all before.

And it's no shame if you have, because this is a decent enough trip back to the old days of death metal – the very old school sound and song writing actually sounds quite refreshing, with each song played by the Drawn and Quartered boys bringing enough to the table to make this album well worth your money.

So all you guys who have a nostalgic crave go ahead and buy this album, you will definitely like it. Those looking for more modern sounding death metal, go hunt down the new Insision or Gorgasm. (6.5/10)

Much like label mates Raison d'être and Sephiroth, Coph Nia relies on heavy, brooding soundscapes and thunderous choir chanting to invoke a certain lush and all together comfortable feeling. And even though some parts feel rather clinical and synthetic, the overall atmosphere of this debut offering flows over with warm moments.

However, it’s the music that counts the most, and this album is lush and lovely all the way through. A big recommendation to those in need of some romantic fairy-tale ambience (after buying this, be sure to check out more recent releases) or to those who are already familiar with Coph Nia and wish to extend their discography with earlier material. (6.9/10)

Portugal has got a really curious black metal scene going. It’s actually pretty cool. It’s definitely cult. It’s like it exists and develops in its own forgotten, isolated, inbred pocket of reality, like the people in the Appalachian Mountains or the town of Innsmouth in the Lovecraft mythos. So aside from Swede-like hyper blasters Corpus Christii, who are really vanilla in what they do, the Lusitanian nation is chock full of fucked up bands that make up for actual musical talent with irresistible cult retardation. And on this three-way Portuguese black metal split, the deeper you go, the more wondrous it gets.

Flagellum Dei has got the sound of cult black metal perfected -- the raw buzz, necro but powerful. It’s also got some seriously great black metal vocals that remind a lot of Nargaroth, which is always a good thing. The only thing Flagellum Dei doesn’t have are riffs. The music sounds dead on, but the guitars and bass play garbage throughout most of the band’s three tracks, while the tired but true black metal drums throttle on obliviously in the background. But considering the norms and expectations of this genre, atmosphere makes up for very little musical talent fairly easily, and Flagellum Dei pulls it off.

Stick Lux Ferre in the same category as Octinomos and Anaal Nathrakh. It’s super fast and melodic, guitar driven black metal with drum machine on overdrive. Now, it’s definitely emergency backup level Octinomos, but that doesn’t mean it’s not good.

Saving the best and most cult for last is Sterkvind, whose vocals sound like Donald Duck with a Burzum Filosofem effect on it. Who knows what the fuck the drum machine is doing on these tracks, or how the guitars are following, but it’s great. Borderline no-clue-as-to-what-they’re-doing black metal, Sterkvind is all the better for it. This after a very NSBM intro with hilarious MIDI keyboards and angry, militaristic speech samples in German.

So take a look at these scores, but remember the power of the cult factor. (Flagellum Dei 6.5/10 Lux Ferre 7/10 Sterkvind 7.1/10)

Changing their name three years after debuting as Lirim in '91, and not releasing an album for another six years, Institut might seem like a band that's only slowly making its way through the harsh electronic music business. But the appreciation gained by live antics say otherwise.

After several demos, Institut were given the opportunity to spread their sonic wings even further with their debut, Great Day to Get Even. With this second full length, Live Like Traitors, Die Like Traitors, these Swedish noise bullies have stepped out of the darkness and into the spotlight. A somewhat distorted spotlight at that.

There is something about this Nordic noise that creates a much bleaker and desolate atmosphere than, say, their Japanese counter parts, who seem to rely more on pummelling the listener with power electronics and harsh, up-front screams. Institut and so many of their Swedish colleagues manage to create a similar wall of noise but through very different ways of handling the electronics.

It is almost like Institut take a step back and take the listener with them, viewing a distant yet harsh sonic picture of senselessness, leaving the listener to step even farther back while the band deliver distorted and bleak screams that seem to fill the atmosphere with even more electricity.

Institut achieves this very efficiently and easily on Live Like Traitors, Die Like Traitors. Every second of this album is a real treat for those who like their electronics harsh and vibrant yet clinical and despondent. Those that are easily scared and/or annoyed by any kind of humming, buzzing or crackling please stay away. Those that are turned on by anything that's distorted, I suggest you check this out. (7.8/10)

As always, any time Poland’s greatest death metal band release any sort of new recording is a time for rejoicing. Let there be no misunderstanding – Blood is more of the same thing that Vader has been putting out for years: simple, crushing death metal that’s the Terminator version of Slayer. And anything less would be a disappointment.

Relatively speaking, Blood is a bit slower... certainly a lot slower than the last Vader MCD, Reign Forever World (but you still get lots and lots of speed). Speaking of which, the US version of Blood comes packaged with Reign Forever World on one CD. If you already have Reign..., don’t get the US version, as you’ll have one fewer tracks, in this case a cover of a Thin Lizzy song. Also, the artwork, featuring both MCD covers mushed together on one CD booklet, looks bad. If you have neither MCDs, it would behoove you to pick up the US version, as the extra track really isn’t all that great. It does have guitar work that is unique within the Vader universe, but the song gets kind of old after three listens. (the item in the Maelstrom store is the import version.)

There is something rather odd about Blood. For some reason the song "When Darkness Calls," which is on the Revelations full-length, is also on this recording, even though the song is a year old. Aren’t songs taken from full-length albums supposed to come *before* said album, in order to be like a tease? What’s more confusing about this is how the song "Son of Fire," only available on the European digipak version of Revelations, is not the song that the band picked. Certainly the song they did pick is better, but "Son of Fire" is a fine Vader tune (after all, they all basically do the same thing), and far fewer people have heard it.

Anyway, any Vader fan will be pleased with Blood, although listening to the US version of this release reveals that Reign Forever World is noticeable superior. (8/10 for Blood, 8.5/10 for Reign Forever World)

We’ve been telling you about Falconer and how great it is for a while now. Frankly, it took us about two years to figure that out for ourselves. What seemed like such generic and bland power metal at first revealed itself to be just the opposite. But right when we realized the brilliance of Falconer, the band goes and changes singer. According to band leader Stefan Weinerhall in his interview with Maelstrom, Falconer could not tour as much as it wanted to with its original front man, so they needed to find a replacement.

All Falconer fans can breathe a sigh of relief that The Sceptre of Deception is no disappointment. As long as Weinerhall is in the band, Falconer will remain the entity we’ve come to love. As before, you’ll hear music that sounds like 70s hard rock bands playing at a  Renaissance Faire, sped up and power metallized. The melody lines and music are entirely in the same vein as the first two albums. If the term "gay" is meant to reflect images of prancing about in a sissy, medieval, lute-toting bard fashion, but doing it in a way that’s very metal, then Falconer is right up there, and bless them for it.

But how is the new singer, Kristoffer Göbel? Well, he’s quite good, but he’s not as good as the man he replaces, Mathias Blad (who does make an appearance on this record). Blad’s golden throated singing was THE voice of Falconer. Göbel sounds quite a bit like him, but much less like a traveling minstrel, complete with tights and quaint booties with bells attached to them – like the metal Master Thespian.

So Falconer’s sound is as intact as you could hope considering the vocal change. But there is a vocal change, and because of it, The Sceptre... isn’t as good as the first two records – simple as that. Also, the title track to this record errs on repeating the sub-par chorus far too many times, and gets stuck in your head in an annoying way. But regardless, there’s no mistaking this record for being a Falconer one, and fans new and old can buy it without hesitation. And who knows? Maybe Göbel will grow on us just like Falconer did. (8.2/10)

Cold Meat Industry seems to be doing wonders these days – at least for those who enjoy their ambience bleak and scary. With Threshold to Disharmony, they present us with yet another high quality debut, this time from the hands of Lithivm. Released in a sleek digipak, the artwork depicting desolate machinery and abandoned factory halls immediately sets the tone of the album.

Far away metal banging and screeching layered over cold and somewhat unnerving waves of (soft) noise, accentuated by reverberating voices... this is a technical nightmare. At times the sounds become a bit too static and the atmosphere not always upholds its quality, making this album a tad dull at times by taking away some of the fluency that’s important with music such as this. However, most of the time the mechanics are on their best behavior and invoke a sense of technological terror. Absolute highlight of the album comes midway during the song "Monstrum," which is guaranteed to scare the living daylights out of any unsuspecting listener.

Lithivm gracefully tells us to enjoy our stay and warns us that people with mechanophobia need to pack up and run. Here’s a second opinion: stay clear of this album if you are afraid of anything cold, mechanical or vibrating. If your washing machine gives you the chills, don’t bother picking this up. However, if you are strangely aroused by your microwave, go and buy this record right away, you will be in for a treat of electronic delirium. (8.1/10)

Akercocke are truly unique. From the dark rawness of their 1998 debut, Rape of the Bastard Nazarene, up to the present day, they have never run with the pack. Though the British have bred more pioneers of heavy metal than any other nation, it cannot be denied that extreme metal-wise, we have been left a little thin on the ground. True, Napalm Death, Bolt Thrower, Bal-Sagoth and Benediction have all left their marks, but you must admit that something is seriously wrong when so many people see the British black metal scene as comprising of Hecate Enthroned and Cradle of Filth.

Akercocke play a blend of vicious guttural death metal and soaring, majestic black metal that is both disturbing and bewitching. When I say that they are unique, it is partly because no other band has utilised the powers of each style in such a breathtaking fashion. Choronzon is monumental in both class and atmosphere. Not a single second of it is wasted or burdened with unnecessary repetition. Though perhaps not as outwardly unsettling as Goat of Mendes, this album gave me an adrenaline rush that almost brought tears to my eyes.

Jason Mendonca's vocals range from the depths of Mortician to a maniacal black metal scream, with sections of clean vocals akin to that of Emperor or Anathema. Lyrically, this album continues the focus on the Satanic faith that Akercocke take very seriously. It's anti-Christian, but not in the manner of Deicide or Immolation, more a mixture of thought-provoking poetry and violence.

"Valley of the Crucified" has a slightly Emperor feel to it to begin with, but before long Akercocke's inimitable style takes over and I am once again left to wonder. The all-out brutality of "Scapegoat" is perfectly placed, as is the trade of dazzling guitar solos contained therein.

It is "Becoming the Adversary" that shines most among all these gems, a raging blast of merciless power that will leave you breathless.

The make-up of Choronzon is an intriguing brew of ravenous extreme metal and mystic passages of clean guitar and keyboards that I would equate to a serpent hypnotising its prey before moving in for the kill. This band have a few dark secrets to share, and I strongly recommend that you all listen up... (10/10)

Decrepit Birth’s promo reads: "Finally after nine years, Decrepit Birth has put together a full length album. The past demos featured a drum machine due to the hyper-tempo of the guitar mastery. …And Time Begins features Tim Yeung (Hate Eternal) on drums, perhaps one of three drummers on the planet who could have pulled of [sic] the 270 beats per minute tempos."

Though the "one of three" may be a major exaggeration, Yeung’s drumming is truly about as fast and accurate as I’ve ever heard. And even at blistering tempos, he manages to throw in interesting fills and change things up; he definitely doesn’t let things get boring. And since the drumming is the best part of the album, it would have been more than disappointing if it were done by machine.

As for the promo, it may have also exaggerated the "guitar mastery" part. Though there aren’t any mistakes or technically weak parts to speak of, there’s not much worth drooling over. The vocals are also middle-of-the road, made up almost exclusively of deep, throaty growls. But …And Time Begins features some pretty good grooves along with the insane drumming, and at no point would I describe it as boring or repetitive; there’s always something worth listening to (often, multiple times). It’s an excellent album. (7/10)

Deivos is your typical Polish death metal band, except with worse production. It’s not all that bad, but it sounds a little washed out and not as crisp as it should be. The lower ranges take a back seat, and the excellent musicianship isn’t as apparent when you really have to listen hard to hear what is going on.

The instrumentation is quite good. Deivos is tight and complex, adding diverse drum parts to ever-changing guitar lines in search of the ideal groove. Rich (though somewhat obscured by the production), growling vocals also add a good effect, though they aren’t exactly extraordinary.

Hostile Blood is a good death metal release, but it doesn’t break any new ground. The majority of the CD is mid-tempo-ed, as well; it wouldn’t hurt Deivos to experiment with some faster stuff. Accurate, technical and mean, the album is a great listen, and it is apparent that Deivos has the potential to become greater than the standard. The guitar solos even hold their ground. But with the lack of originality, I must hold this one to a 6.5/10. Deivos’ potential is greater than they exhibit here, and I look forward to hearing more from them. I am convinced that their live shows are pretty insane, at any rate. (6.5/10)

Hmmmmm, a blatant rip off of a band that was only popular because the singer played naked, ate his own shit, and shoved bananas up his ass! If there’s one thing people want to listen to more than anything else, it’s not derivative, puerile crap like this.

GG Allin is dead. He died like a rock star, and there was nothing even slightly interesting about him in the first place. Just like this album. (0/10)

There’s no way around it; the overall cuteness factor of this album is extremely high. Yes, this album is cute. It starts with the cover, depicting a woman and a horse. No ordinary horse, mind you, but a horse that has human characteristics and actually looks more human than the lady on the picture, who seems to stare at something like she’s just had a medieval lobotomy of some sorts. The horse almost seems to point his hoof at the lady with her blank expression going "look lady, those are my carrots." Cute, I tell ya.

Then, as the booklet opens with mostly French lyrics – except for the first song, which features a little tale about love, passion and a pack of armed knights – we come across something that raises the cuteness level even higher: a picture of the merry souls that make up Ataraxia. It’s a very subtle photo of two (of the three male) band members standing in a bush, one longingly leering at the other while said other stares at a random object next to the photographer in hopes of looking uninterested in being the object of the photo. Really cute.

Credit where credit is due, the other three members play their instruments very adequately, but it’s Francesca that completely steals the show. Her vocals are of such high caliber that when she hits the high notes, she does it with such raw force that animals all over town start responding. She also has a very cute accent. Yes, cute.

Six decent songs, four decent band members and one hell of a decent album. Perhaps not a guide to what Ataraxia is all about sound wise as it differs enough from their other albums, so give it a spin before you buy. I also suggest checking out their website (http://www.ataraxia.net) for a wealth of information about the band’s own take on what Ataraxia is all about. (6.9/10, overall cute-ness factor 9/10)

What do you get when members of Haemorrhage and Machetazo decide to get together and re-discover their roots while exploring some other avenues as well? You get Greenfly.

Liberal helpings of old school death metal of the Swedish variety (old Entombed comes to mind rather easily) mixed with unabashed heavy metal soloing and some doomy sections that crawl out of the woodwork. Take for example the song "Living Beyond Suffering"; the initial parts sound so damn reminiscent of the first My Dying Bride, or Anathema's The Crestfallen.

There aren't too many blast beats to be found on this album as the tempo remains mid-paced most of the while. Selective use of the double bass pedal adds some extra spice to the whole affair, and some rather kick ass riffing ensures that even someone like me (who can’t tolerate mid-paced material for too long) will keep his fingers away from the skip button for the whole length of the album.

The playing frankly isn't the tightest, with some minor goof ups in "Face of the Injustice," but that can be looked over quite easily. The same cannot be said for the vocals. It would have sounded much better with some deep growls instead of the half barking, half shouting done by Monzon. He does come up with some drawn out growls on the cover of Death's "Born Dead," a style that should be explored more on future releases. It's a tragedy that Greenfly are releasing their debut full length just now since they were formed way back in 1992, but much better to be late than never...this is my Pick of the issue #2! (8.7/10)

7th Nemesis just strengthen this feeling with four songs of technical and well-crafted brutal death metal. The vocalist provides some good Jeff Walker kind of snarls, which fit in well with the buzzsaw riffs that alternate between catchy palm muted chugging and earsplitting harmonics. The solo on "Entelechy of a Suicide" has a really great feel to it, and the start to the fourth song, "Blood Drops in Heaven," further proves that this band could teach the competition a thing or two about incorporating the feel factor in their music.

Punishment are from Austria and their stuff seems to be oriented more towards those who want to just mosh rather than a follow dozen time changes or other niceties like solos. They occasionally slow down a lot to break the monotony, but more often than not the rather simplistic riffs are like a damp squib after listening to 7th Nemesis.

Punishment have avoided being slated as a total wipe-out by having the most brutal song on this disc, "Bullet Time," where the deep growling sounds much more effective than on the other songs. The last track on this CD, "Come With Me," is another redeeming song with a nice background melody being played while the guitar lurches through some heavy power chords. Decent band, though they need to improve considerably. (7th Nemesis - 8.1/10 Punishment - 6.5/10)

Century Media wants us all to believe this is more "intense," "insane" and "savage" than anything else. Sorry, guys, I have heard more intense stuff than this way back in my school days. But enough about what the label says, let's analyse the music in more detail.

First off, this is not laid back by any means. There are some furious, thrashy parts, like on the opener "Torn Pages" or "The Struggle," but there is so much filler mush on this it makes my head ache. Watch Them Die are admittedly impressive when playing those fast, thrashing parts. Had they chosen to make the songs shorter, cut all the crap out and filled the whole CD with riffs like the finger ripping ones on the latter part of "Resurrection," then this CD would have torn your head right off.

But sadly a lot of the material consists of hardcore influenced pseudo-thrash. "Unleashed" is one such song that goes absolutely nowhere: metalcore without direction. Hardcore fans might want to pick this up, but for die-hard death and grind heads like me, I have only one message: Stay Clear. (5/10)

Life poses some unexplainable mysteries sometimes. Like, how do I manage to freak out on Rompeprop but get a bit subdued while listening to Cock and Ball Torture? Until I figure out the answer to that one it won’t be possible for me to explain why I couldn't get totally into this CD.

This comes as a big disappointment as I was expecting a lot from this (not only because it's out on No Escape, who haven't disappointed yet, but also because Dave from Fuck..I'm Dead plays in this band). Is it due to the overly mechanized feeling that permeates through every note and blast, or is it due to the lack of tempo variation in the riffing? The vocals are similar to CBT, but not as pitchshifted.

The drums follow a similar methodology: keep it simple and put in a few blasts here and there to break up the monotony. There isn't anything wrong with the music per se – the band is clear in their direction and they have come up with some great grooves on "Naked," "Horror" and "Method," which make me bounce about the room and headbang at the same time. But during the rest of the songs, I just sit on the sofa and dwell on life's unexplained mysteries.

This release is just decent and nowhere near the calibre of stuff that No Escape has released before, like the Neuro Visceral Exhumation full length or the Fuck..I'm Dead / Engorged split. (6/10)

Apart from life's unexplained mysteries, there are indeed some things that you can be sure about. Like when you get a new Waco Jesus, you can be sure that things are going to get brutal and sick. And you can also be sure that if you look at the cover or artwork you are definitely going to see chicks showing their anal orifices.

Yup, Waco Jesus have returned with a new installment of musical depravity. Though the music doesnt sound "sick" as such thanks to the sharp production, the songs are nevertheless brutal and full of perverted humour. The first thing that strikes you is how more catchy the riffs have become as compared to their debut, The Destruction of Commercial Scum. Still keeping things pretty simple, yet with enough intensity and plenty of hooks to capture the attention of any deathgrind fan out there, Waco Jesus are certainly not tarnishing Illinois's reputation in the underground scene.

The drummer has put a lot of effort into this with plenty of double bass clickety-clack and enough tempo variations to go along with the blast beats. Every song has moments of catchiness, but what is missing are parts that really stick out in your mind after you take the disc out. But then, if you like bands like Anal Blast you might not be taking this CD out of your player anytime soon. (7.2/10)

The cover gives a pretty good idea of the contents inside. Filthy to the core grind with artwork that gives Waco Jesus a run for their money! (Though the grossness on this Sadistic Blood Massacre CD is also toned down a bit as compared to their 100% Schmutzcore demo).

Musically, Sadistic Blood Massacre follow a different path, sounding like crust meeting up with the kind of grind Gut plays. The sound is a tad too raw – with a heavy and thick guitar sound this would have sounded much better. In fact had they been able to achieve the heavy sound that The Day Everything Became Nothing achieved (review in this issue), this would have shit...oops shot right up my listening charts.

I like the fact that they put some urgency into the riffs rather than going chug-chug all the time. There are three live tracks towards the end of the CD and they are just about decent too, marred only by the shitty sound. Fans of Gut, and perhaps some old Blood too, need to check Sadistic Blood Massacre out. (6.4/10)

Hmm... simplistic crust-punk with some rather weird shouting vocals. Even if you manage to shut out the horrible vocals, the music isn’t really all that good. It’s not that it isn’t played well, though things could be made much tighter, but because any band who know how to bang out a tune or two from their instruments could have come out with songs like this. The sound is not all that great, but what difference does sound make when the songs suck? (0 till you write better songs/10)

Elis’ front lady delights with the sweet, unpretentious and clear sort of gothic vocals in mostly calm to moderately paced songs. Her voice fits perfectly into the environment of an unobtrusive distorted guitar and classical piano sounds. Often the songs are centered around one or two catchy refrain riffs, which, despite their quality, might strike you as being a bit too "soaky-sweet" after a while, because they are played out quite lengthily. Apart from that, a successful debut. (8.5/10)

This CD isn’t good, but it isn’t bad. The members of Wehrwolfe are good musicians, but they should have worked a little longer on the album – it’s far too sloppy in parts to enjoy the type of sound they’re going for. They have an aggressive black metal sound that reminds me somewhat of Amon Amarth.

With good production, intense, loud screams, fast picking and blast beats, Godless We Stand is a relatively good listen from beginning to end – it just needs some polishing. Oh, yeah, and their name is one of the worst ever. But let’s not hold that against them.

Not anything unique, but it is an energetic CD. I look forward to hearing their next album – they sound like they have the skill to really progress as a band. But Godless We Stand sounds a little thrown-together. (5/10)

Nail Within’s debut album is an impressive one. This Israeli thrash group has written some good songs and executes them nearly flawlessly. They have a clear and accurate sound, and they even paid attention to the details, adding nuances and breaks in unexpected places.

I like the sometimes-melodic, energetic guitars and drums, though I’m not crazy about the vocals. They’re pretty shallow-sounding, but they have a harsh, aggressive quality that fits rather well with the instrumentation. But you’ve heard it before: There’s just not anything new here. Nail Within have executed "thrash" well, but they’ve got a way to go before they have something fresh and REALLY good. Still, a solid first release. (6.8/10)

Roy is a very interesting band. Their sound is loud and heavy but they also throw in some wonderful catchy melodies and hooks. Think Green Day with more harmonies. The record is only a five song EP, but there is enough there to warrant getting an entire album.

The one drawback would be Roy’s tendency (at least what I can tell from five songs) to write message songs. "Town Concrete" is your typical "man works in the town’s factory all his life and he is bitter" song a la John Cougar Mellencamp. "The Bolivian Army Lays Siege to Seattle" is the "immigrants have it tough" story, and "We Didn’t Evolve" is the old "the gentrification and over-commercialism of our world sucks" (which if that’s your thing, then listen to Talking Heads’ More Songs About Buildings and Food, or their song "(Nothing But) Flowers.")

An entire album of 10 to 12 tracks of deep and sincere thoughts from four guys from Tacoma could end up being real tough to listen to no matter how nice the harmonies are. So lie back and enjoy Tacomatose. Give the band a chance, but if you get tired of the preaching don’t say Daddy didn’t warn you. (7/10)

If memory serves me correctly, one of the principles of LaVeyan Satanism is that love should be bestowed on the deserving, not wasted on ingrates. This came to mind as I heard the squeaky clean, high priced production value bestowed on the horrendously mediocre "gothic" euro-metal that is the latest effort from Asterius.

For fuck's sake, a vaguely black metal vocal style (and very commercial at that) does not make out that which accompanies it as black metal. I would like to stress, that I am NOT casting aspersions on this band's collective musical ability, but the fact remains that the songs are both unfocused and unmemorable. The sad thing is that one assumes Asterius must have done something right to earn that big studio sound. Maybe they should ponder over what that something was...(4/10)

Adamanter are a power metal band wearing a goth metal mask, and for an early attempt to get the metal masses to listen, they certainly deserve some credit. They don't really have the hooks, but they do have the necessary spirit and enthusiasm that animate the music.

It isn't your typical dose of Italian power metal, that's for sure. There is a refreshingly rough quality to the songs that almost reminds me of Di'Anno-era Iron Maiden with a twinkly keyboard background. There is both promise and talent within The Shadow Mirror, but still plenty of room for development. It is closing track "The Dark and the Ocean" that happened to grab my attention. Despite the dash of plagiarism, there lay within it a charm that suggested that higher quality is on the way. I think Adamanter will be a name to look out for. (5.8/10)

After a few listens, Death Machine begin to sound quite appealing. The feisty mix of Fear Factory, Disbelief and Wolfheart-era Moonspell is perhaps something that would have been more my kind of thing at the age of fifteen, but there are certain elements that lend it a far more mature edge.

The jazzy bass solo in "Last Breath" was a nice surprise, and the pummeling double bass drum work throughout made this album very enjoyable. During quite a few of the tracks there is even a vaguely Death essence to the music; the throaty vocals, the short staccato bursts, and the occasional blast of instrumental virtuosity. Death Machine also boasts a bass sound that would make Joey DeMaio proud.

You get the feeling that this album would score some points with Arch Enemy fans, simply for the riffing style. The subtlety of the keyboard tracks gives it another dimension, as does the use of Meshuggah-like odd time signatures.

Some of this may be reminiscent of a decaying style, but Death Machine are here to show what life there still is in it. (7.3)

My first impression of Dark Embrace was something of a mid-paced homage to Opera IX, and an impressive effort for a demo. I pondered briefly on what the bands in which I have played might have sounded like had we committed the material to CD. My conclusion was that such activities are best left to those who know what they are doing, and Dark Embrace seem to be serious enough about it. Along with the aforementioned Opera IX influence, there is a hint of early Moonspell in there, and I am quite a fan of Oscar Asunder's vocals.

Far be it from me to judge, but I really think that with a harsher riffing style, the music could really kick up a storm. It's not what I would call spectacular, but who knows what might yet happen? (5/10)

House of Stairs is a London based label that releases works of progressive, innovative underground artists. The Combined Stupidity of Spiteful Man features tracks by three such bands.

As vague and abstract as the label's field of occupation may be, this split release reveals a rather stout stylistic resemblance amongst the three bands: all deliver an abrasive, harsh brand of avant garde, guitar-based rock. The main attributes are utter atonality, prevailing presence of blunt, raucous dissonance, changing rhythms and shifting meters, all accentuated in order to achieve a state of renouncing estrangement, a rebellion against the norms of every form of traditional musical conditioning.

As discussed in the review of Foe's self-titled album (last issue), an artist composing such creations ineluctably faces a critical challenge: the need to somehow soothe the innate bewilderment and disorientation bound to his music by embedding it with certain familiar grains. With this humane facet, the listener is given a sense of intrinsic emotional involvement, rendering him attached and dependent on the musical experience. This greatly amplifies the subjective effect of the featured discordant elements, transcending them to a level much more profound than the mere intellectual one.

As reflected by the album's title, it seems that House of Stairs has chosen to adapt a main concept to the album, carrying the flag of the fashionable protest against our fascistic, materialistic society, being dominated by major corporations and US troops ruling our pseudo-democracy and so on.

American Heritage, the opening band of the compilation, represent that concept quite well. By doing so, they manage to spur the listener in the direction of the required devoted, active involvement in their music. Although their lyrics are aggressively shouted, therefore nearly undecipherable, they clearly deal with the aforementioned themes of raging remonstration. As unpleasant as they may be, the yelled texts do comprise a certain form of human presence in the music, bestowing it with a focused, narrative direction and increased expressionistic coherence, transforming the otherwise unearthly, inedible musical phrases to be a part of a tangible, insidious idealistic plot.

This element is further raised by the construction of the band's compositions. Although still bearing the originality of their musical niche, American Heritage occasionally derive influences of relatively stable metal genres (thrash and even doom/death), enabling one to feel somehow familiar with the music, thereby freeing his mind to be fully engaged with their more intriguing, unusual sides.

Next comes a single, lengthy track by Foe. Similar to their debut album, they still feature impressive musicianship, revealing a core of impressive compositional talent, obvious pioneering courage and highly creative mind. Nevertheless, their music remains a bit overly disorienting as before. However, Foe are significantly complimented by their piece being featured after the ones of American Heritage. The latter band's more digestible effort gradually prepares the listener to the harsh (even if aesthetically much less violent) experience of Foe, making their music, even if less communicative, consist an inner honestly avant garde core of the album.

Last is Art of the Burning Water. Once again, the socially activist concept is visible, this time more notably. The musical contents, while still being rather complex, are much simpler than the other two bands’, at times seeming to be little more than an atmospheric accompaniment to the tortured, preaching vocals.

Nevertheless, there are some benefits bound to the simplicity: the compositional themes are frequently palatably developed, creating interesting, cohesive musical pieces. By the way, two members of the trio are most likely of Arabic origin, as well as many of the names on the thanks list. Are there any more active underground protest musical groups of middle-eastern orientation? If so, we would love to her more about them.

Listening to the album raises another significant notion: aesthetically, as well as thematically, all bands on the compilation sound rather similar. For an underground movement boasting its innovativeness, this is quite an ominous sign. While a certain degree of mutual influence is inevitable and may be highly contributing and nurturing to such a scene, it does place its whole legitimacy under threat. All of its members are ought to keep in mind the constant need of progression and evolvement, avoiding stagnancy at all costs.

In conclusion, this is a highly intriguing split album, featuring a variety of daring, intellectually and emotionally challenging musical efforts. The existence of such bands, and concentrating labels as House of Stairs, is critical to the preservation of the last strongholds of profundity and insightfulness in our deteriorating world. Get this, even if only in order to support such future efforts. (8.5/10)

Cryogenic, a veteran band in the flourishing German black metal scene, notably ensconce some impressive, promising elements of potential. Growing out of rather basic extreme metal grounds, they embark on a few quite courageous (even if possibly commercially induced) attempts of experimentation, striving at establishing and indulging their own singular artistic form.

While still bearing a few deficiencies, leaving it outside the pantheon of ultimately whole, fulfilled creative efforts, Cryogenic’s latest release manages to supply the listener with a binding, worthy listening experience.

The music of Cryogenic is based upon rather standard symphonic black metal aesthetic foundations: blast beating drums, riffing and lead guitars, occasionally emphasized bass lines, and all sorts of growling or spoken vocals. The aforementioned elements are all joined together in attempt to achieve a compositional synthesis of atmospheric, heroic and ethereal textures with more traditional chaotic or militant (and often worn) black metal characteristics.

Here lies the thematic kernel of the band's creation: it seems that they reach their artistic high peak whenever presenting an intriguing tension generated between elements of contemplative, continuous, static and at times nearly meditative sound layers. At times, the drum work shows a clear orientation of intentionally simplistic, traditional extreme metal. However, in other cases the rhythmical direction is less prominent and decipherable, creating a questionable sense of time and beat.

Also notable are the guitar lead parts. Although many of the compositions often deteriorate to technical, standardized superficiality, some of the melodies manage to instill a further sense of uncertainty: while obviously being expressive and emotional, the guitar leads are of no clear conveyance: their minor phrases, often interspersed with touches of chromatic raucousness, do testify to the existence of a determined, quite clear yet unfamiliar mood, shifting from optimism to murkiness, never omitting the distant hope to reach and substantiate the possibility of potential catharsis.

Indeed, Cryogenic surely provide the crowd of black metal followers with a handful of traditional German ideological recurring motives. The question of the axis of time and universal progression; the rubrics of defined consciousness and the possibility on the individual expression within the overall inclusive context; deconstructed beauty, doubted elation an eternal potential of a Dyonisic enrapture – all are well known philosophical issues which, in a way, are conjured by the band. As some of the tracks are of quite a narrative character, reading and relating to the lyrics would certainly have helped. However, they are all in German, and frustratingly unavailable over the net.

Leaving praise aside, Parsifal 21 bears a few faults that are impossible to ignore: as mentioned earlier, some of the compositional movements, on both the symphonic facet and the primitive black metal one, are expected and uncreative, as if embedded within the piece for stylistic purposes only. At times, the opposite occurs: taking their attempt of exploring new aesthetic spaces, on several occasions the musical structure is exaggeratedly disintegrated and unintentionally bewildering. Surely, this is a worthy price to pay in favor of experimentation. Still, it should be as much avoided as possible.

In conclusion, Cryogenic prove to be a band of a great potential and creative resources, featuring a musical representation of formidable ideas in an inventive, curious manner. Although obviously not fully ripe and accomplished, Parsifal 21 is surely a recommended album for the appraisal of any proponent of originality and idealistic conveyance. (7.5/10)

From looking at the cover art, name and album title you wouldn’t think much of this one. A mediocre drawing of a red serpent eating its own tail forms a Mobius strip on the cover, flames lapping at its underside. Semi-cheesy silver lettering gives the band and album names. The art may not exactly draw you in, but Diabolic is quite an excellent death metal band.

The production by Neil Kernon is crisp, and it allows each part to be heard despite the nature of the frantic, thickly layered songs. Gael Barthelemy lays down some super-fast blast beats as accurately as humanly possible, and the guitar parts range from rhythmic grooves to screaming solos to haunting melodies. Everything falls right where it should, without much hint of sloppiness but without sounding too clean, either.

Ed Webb’s vocals are pretty rich, though not very versatile. He’s got a solid growl, at least, but he doesn’t have much range or variety. The songs are worth listening to beginning to end, as well, thanks to Diabolic’s not overplaying good-sounding riffs and changing the moods and tempos with some regularity. It’s fast, energetic and punchy. Each note is hit satisfyingly hard.

Infinity Through Purification certainly isn’t revolutionary - it could have come out in the mid- to early-90s, by the sound of it – but despite not breaking new ground, it is definitely worth the occasional listen. It’s a solid addition to the death metal library. (7/10)

Dies Ater is yet another Teutonic black metal band, devotedly begetting some more of the worn, overstated tremolo picked, aggressively strummed phrases of the genre. However, a few apparitions of fine performance, conceptual stoutness and authenticity do manage to bestow them with a certain sense of legitimacy, leaving them placed somewhere on the thin, nearly invisible seam between uniqueness and banality. When all factors are considered, they manage to wade the finishing line just by a hairbreadth.

The art of Dies Ater attempts to depict a picture of a world engulfed by mystery and ominous eeriness, a state of existence in which a sense of nervous expectation, the idea of a colossal event lingers in the air. The occurrence is about to take place, be it an utopian redemption or an ultimate apocalypse. Furthermore, one just might not be able to tell the difference when it eventually comes.

Expectedly, the core of such an expressive agenda is mostly atmospheric in its essence. Here lies the most exceptional element of the band's creation: Chanting Evil is soaked with the described scent of tense, deterministic expectance. The pieces share the same overall feel, being mostly characterized not by its material, tangible aspect, but by the evasive yet present overtones, echo, resonance; as if the outputs of the different instruments adjoin together on a transcendent, amorphous sphere, uniting to form the ruling lugubrious harmony, regulating its feel of foggy, dark sacredness over the overall sonic space.

On the more practical, substantial level, Dies Ater has much less to offer, featuring a musical product of little innovation or singularity. Their lead melodic lines are predictable and common. The band does try to occasionally explore realms of relatively less trite composition and performance, but without much success. The multiple rhythmical shifts are not of much significance or importance, rarely altering the mood of the listener, sounding artificial and displaced. Moreover, it sounds as if the drummer often fails to handle the high intensity of his parts, straying of beat, thus critically damaging the requested of overwhelming intensity.

The attempts to color the melodic guitar lines with a timbre of infrequent originality usually goes no further than adding a passing, arbitrary sounding chromatic tone to the melody. Again, as the meter changes, it is done in a methodical, systematic, unnatural way. Indeed, at times it does gain a certain effect. Mostly, it doesn't. Furthermore, on a few parts the band attempts to perform polyrhythmical, complex guitar riffs. Here, their failure is complete, stemming from a lack of both compositional and instrumental shrewdness. And finally, the added clean, dramatic vocal parts sound, again, forced and incongruous, featuring little tidings to the world of vocal performance.

Hereby, after stating its deficiencies, it is important to once again remind that Enchanting Evil is an overall rewarding, quite effective black metal listening experience. Although not nearing true excellence or revealing shards of future groundbreaking potential, it does certainly manage to deliver the goods in its own limited field in quite a satisfactory manner. (6/10)

Judging by this three-song demo, Ashes to Embers, Eyes of Fire’s upcoming full-length, won’t be worth buying when it comes out in January. Eyes of Fire embodies mediocrity. Lame lyrics, repetitive instrumentation and unmemorable, indistinct vocals compose a mini CD unworthy of sitting through.

"Disintegrate" is a musically simplistic, almost hardcore-sounding track that starts the album, and does not leave much promise for the other tracks. "Hopeless," the second song, is exactly how one feels after hearing that slow, corny ballad; and "Anyone," another slower, dejected sounding "feel sorry for me" song may very well induce uncontrollable vomiting, especially if heard in the context of the rest of the album. Eyes of Fire is neither worth listening to nor talking about any longer. (2/10)

With all the songs taken from Show no Mercy, Seasons in the Abyss, Reign in Blood and South of Heaven, this album is classic Slayer with a somewhat harder edge. Well, at least as far as the death metal growls go. Most of the guitar solos can’t compare to the originals in terms of their sheer speed and intensity (i.e. the notes don’t sound like they’re being choked or beaten out of the guitar), but Oni does a pretty damn good job on "Altar of Sacrifice."

Another highlight is Mictlantechutli’s version of "Cryonics." Besides getting the award for the "what the hell?!" name, they pound out a rapid, accurate and thoroughly kick-ass rendition of an excellent song.

Hell at Last doesn’t have a bad track on it. Universe Eye’s "South of Heaven" may be the low point, though the song is by no means terrible. The moodiness does get to be a little much when the cheap sounding synths kick in, though the acoustic guitars add an excellent atmosphere.

Engrave tries to imitate the thrash vocals on "Evil Has No Boundaries," and after the failed introductory scream they do a great job of it. Nokturne L.A. on "Raining Blood," Acerbus on "Angel of Death" and Enraged on "Black Magic" bring the album to a fitting close – it remains a solid listen all the way through. As far as tribute albums go, this is one of the best I’ve heard. (8/10)

If you are a musician then it might do you good to brace yourself mentally before listening to this album as you might develop a massive inferiority complex. Yup, this is awe inspiring technical death metal, brought to you by a band who did impress with their Perverse And Unnatural Practices debut, but have managed to up the ante drastically with this release.

Those of you who are aware of the fact that there are some ex-Pessimist members in this band, and are expecting something similar, had better look elsewhere. Raging brutal death this is not, but rather a dizzying blend of serpentine riffs and galloping bass work. The sound is pretty good with the recording having been done at Nightsky Studios (owned by Ron of Aurora Borealis) and every instrument seems to have been balanced perfectly.

Replacing Rob Kline on vocals is Mike Harrison (previously in Misery Index). Harrison does a good job here, but the former had shown more diversity in the previous album with his variable vocal delivery speed.

Opener "Might Is Right" starts off rather innocuously, but towards the end it unveils the technical might of the band. "Den Of Wolves" is also similar in the way in which it begins without much fanfare, and you start thinking that this is a standard death metal track. But as soon as the thought crosses your mind, Psychotogen have wandered off into regions where extremely fluid riffing is juxtaposed with equally fluid soloing and mind boggling bass work.

Next up is an instrumental titled "The Poison Sleep" whose beautiful and immaculately played guitar licks will make your jaw drop till it hits the floor. And I haven’t even mentioned the drumming yet! Chris Pernia provides a judicious yet well judged backdrop of double bass thunder amidst some jazz style handwork on songs like "Descending" and "Thy Will Be Done." They never get technical enough to forget about song structure, but there are at least a few moments in each song when structure is thrown to the wind and a maelstrom of a jam session follows with each instrument freaking out totally.

I strongly recommend listening to this on a pair of good headphones, which will be helpful in discovering all sorts of goodies, like the crazy bass work. And to top it off, the album ends with a secret song, a cover of Judas Priest’s "All Guns Blazing," replete with shredding guitar and bass solos! Without any kind of doubt, this is my Pick of the Issue #1. (9.6/10)

I can see a band of Vikings with raised torches, smeared with whale blubber, coming down the side of a misty mountain, hair flying in slow motion. This Swedish band is some fierce classic rock. The recording quality of this CD is very exciting, with a totally live feel.

Even the best band can easily lose the immediacy of the live performance once those studio knobs start spinning. Not so with this CD, which is remarkable only partly because the mix is so true to life. It sounds like you are standing three rows back from the stage at perfect center. The songs are loosely hung in the groove and open this massive specter of sonic landscape. Their musical changes are thrilling, non-formulaic and theatrically sophisticated.

Christian Calsson, the guitarist, delivers smoke-laden guitar assaults, while Magnus Ekvall, the singer, melodically powers through this wall of sound with a sexy lazy ease. Reminiscent of the emotional power and the artistic flexibility of the great classic of this genre - Led Zepplin - The Quill can turn the stomp of the pillaging hoard into a strangely dreamy and interpretive contemplation. Soundgarden or Kyuss. also comes to mind when trying to categorize them.

Why this disc is called Hooray! It's a Deathtrip is a mystery. (Maybe it's a Swedish thing) The package artwork,, an eerie meld of clay, flesh, cement and bad type looks like it should be symbolic, but falls somewhere into the realm of juvenile looking goo ga. (7.5/10)

As a genre, remix albums can be a queer bunch, but nothing I’ve listened to quite prepared me for the latest release from Norway’s chameleonic Ulver. By all accounts, Ulver used to be a good if unspectacular Norwegian black metal band. (Be gentle, readers, he’s new to metal and knows not what he says - "El Jefe" Roberto)

But I dug deeper. After tireless hours of research (i.e. I fell asleep in front of my computer and made it all up) I managed to ascertain that, back in the day, a typical Ulver week would consist of a merry mix of mead-drinking, church-burning, growling and the odd spot of impaling. However, after the boys managed to burn down both Arvo Part’s local church and Brian Eno’s mead hall in the same day, they became the victims of a sinister curse that radically altered their musical output. Out went the growling, and in came the musical eclecticism, creating countless nightmares for hapless clerks at record emporiums the world over.

Ulver’s pall-mall genre-hopping similarly infects 1st Decade in the Machines. A number of the remixes here remind me of the Aphex Twin’s "Lemonheads Remix" story. Let me explain: while enjoying his brief tenure as the remixer du jour back in the 90s, the ‘Twin was disturbed one day with a knock at the door. It was a motorcycle courier, there to pick up the master tapes of the remix of the Lemonheads track that he’d agreed to do… and subsequently totally forgotten about. Thinking quickly, the ‘Twin grabbed a random DAT from the shelf and gave it to the courier, caring not one iota about its content. The record was duly released, and upon hearing the remix some were heard to remark that it was terribly avant-garde of the Twin to turn the original slice of power-pop into a speed-gabba track, featuring not one frickin’ trace of the original. Others merely snickered. Evan Dando, the Lemonhead’s lead singer, was unavailable for comment.

So - has anyone pulled "the DAT trick" here? A less forgiving reviewer would perhaps say "yes." The majority of the remixers here come from the fringes of electronic music, with the rest camped uneasily between that label and the true avant-garde. I can say with absolute impunity that each track is absolutely different to everything else on the disc, and, from what I’ve heard, absolutely distinct from the Ulver track that it ostensibly uses as a source. If you came here for loud guitars and impaling, you are definitely in the wrong place. But don’t expect it to be all fractured beats and synths, either.

Stars of the Lid turn in a characteristically stellar track in their take on "I Love You, but I Prefer Trondheim Pts.1-4," which is easily as good as anything on their last album. Matt Elliott strips Lyckantropen down and makes a quietly blipping piece of melancholy out of the original’s doomed romanticism. On the other side of lunatic’s no-man’s land, V/VM, Jazzkammer and Merzbow drop some extreme noise terror into their remixes; to my ears, only Merzbow pass the "listenable" threshold. Elsewhere on the disc, everything from glitch to dark ambient to breakbeat is present and correct.

I can honestly say that, apart from El Jefe, I imagine that there are few people who could honestly say that they liked all of these tracks - the stylistic bases covered are just too different. On the other hand, everyone, from ambient buffs to noise gurus, is likely to be pretty happy with "their" tracks. So I’ll give it an 8/10, and hope that Ulver aren’t coming to visit the UK anytime soon. (8/10)

El Jefe adds: There is only one track taken from the first three, "ok" (GAAAAAAHHHHH!), black metal Ulver records (in this case, the middle parts of Bergtatt, mainly the section of the sounds of someone running in the snow/ a mic held up way close to someone eating granola, a piano, and that acoustic section with the stone hitting stone percussion).

The Grails suffer from being all Monty and not enough Python. The Burden of Hope, their first album, consists mainly of short, meandering pieces that suffer from sounding too much like full-band demos. Each track is just a tad too, well, normal to really succeed by itself; next time, methinks, some midwifery jiggerypokery will be required in the recording studio.

The band is an instrumental collective, using drums, guitar, bass, violin and keyboards. When the violin is high in the mix, The Grails can sound like some of the darkly European music made by the small community of Australian ex-pats that came to Berlin and London on Nick Cave’s shirt-tails and never really went home. But it's often a case of too little, too late: too many of these tracks sound like a band on autopilot, a machine making "generic instrumental rock."

It’s as though these guys have been hiding in a cave for the last few years – it's one of the most exciting times in recent memory to be making instrumental rock (which is bloody pop music, now), and the Grails treat us to an album that, while not bad, is as out of step with the times as flared trousers and accountability in government.

Yet, still, there is hope here, and it comes without burden. The addition of some impressionistic piano on track four does wonders for the band’s sound, allowing their ideas to breathe better, opening a window onto their claustrophobic sound. But there’s just no drama: there’s nothing that makes these recordings essential to the listener. At its worst, it can sound like a musical etiquette class, or a film soundtrack where the film was never released.

These are pieces crying out for context: they’re like 11 tracks in search of an album, something to tie them all together. I just can’t hear anything on this disc that makes me want to rush out and "grab me some Grails," nor can I imagine the children of this fair nation, or any other nation for that matter, rushing out in their droves to play this stuff. So, in my infinite bald guy wisdom, I grant thee a 6/10, because I want them to succeed. But while we’re waiting for their masterwerk, go grab yourself some Rachel’s, some Godspeed, even some Dirty Three, and realize that Grails still have a ways to go. (6/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

In a sort of a music journalism cram session, I listened to The Burden of Hope five times in a day in order to get this review in. And I looked forward to it every time. Yes, Godspeed! You Black Emperor may be more original or artistically important or whatever, but as far as this kind of instrumental music goes, I’d rather grab me some Grails. (7.5/10)

Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to press several effects pedals with a single bound: as modus operandi go, it’s a fitting one for Kinski. This west coast band is slowly but surely becoming a major force in modern American psychrock. Their last album on Sub Pop, Airs Above Your Station, was frighteningly accomplished, give or take a few borrowed Sonic Youth riffs. But, hey! they were good Sonic Youth riffs, so the album ranked pretty highly on the McG riffometer.

And now we turn to their latest recording, a split Kinski/Acid Mothers Temple EP, a "psychrock arms across the Pacific" project, if you would. It came into my possession in a somewhat salubrious manner via El Jefe (that’s me - Roberto), whose eyes alternatively glittered and darkened upon uttering the bands’ names. Turns out that his prior experience with AMT had damaged his critical capabilities, and he needed an objective voice. Well, bring it on…

And "it," thank God, happens to be a round-trip ticket to Wallofsoundville. Kinski kick things off with "Fell Asleep on Your Lawn," a near-perfect slab of pure unadulterated rawk heaven. You can hear the smiles on the faces of the band as they rip through this track, only to pause, catch their breath, wait for the percussion to catch up and then slam back into it again. It’s music that screams out for movement, change, increased velocity, acceleration; at times coming close to distilling the much-missed Swervedriver’s career into one ten-minute trip. A word of warning, though: don’t play it while you’re doing the weekly grocery shop or you’ll be looking at five to ten years for dangerous trolley driving.

The track calms down as it enters its last couple of minutes and morphs into "It’s Nice to Hear Your Voice," ten-minutes out of a joint Kinski/AMT session mixed by Kinski guitarist Chris Martin. This is a very different beast, softly enticing instead of "Fell Asleep…"’s steamrollering. The theme continues into track three; basically a re-run of two, but with this time members of AMT adding some overdubs. Surprisingly, the two tracks are enjoyably different, testaments to both bands abilities to turn original source materials inside-out. Kinski focus on quiet drones and what sounds like tabletop percussion, and AMT subtly play sitar-like guitars that glisten in the mix.

Track four is probably what would have drive El Jefe up the wall (it was - El Jefe). It’s pure, unadulterated AMT, for better or worse. At times a little self-indulgent, at times incredibly compelling, it plays like a compendium of modern psychedelia scrunched into over twenty minutes of experimental jamband madness. For the record, I like it – for all its length, the track never outstays its welcome, and strives to continually re-invent itself and evolve even as it spirals towards the inevitable comedown. Yet I can’t help being a little disappointed – this was less of a true collaboration than I thought it would be. I guess I’ll have to wait a little while for a double gatefold AMT/Kinski live album to satisfy my cravings; until then, this gets an (8/10)

Nothing seems to stand out in this straight-forward pop metal album. The rhythm section is substandard, the keyboards are negligent, and while most of the album is built around the storming guitar, even it does not have any true identity to capture the listener. And as if these are not enough, they are molten together into further non-existence by the thin production.

Most of the tracks here are basically impotent commercial speed metal. In fact, these songs suffer from being "ultra-fast": they completely fill the buffer that's inside the listener's head and force him to "drop" some of the music, while the rest will probably make a trip from one ear to the other and get out anyway. This "play & forget" syndrome seriously damages the catchiness of the songs, hence annihilating its commercial potential, probably against the band's original intentions.

The commercial tendencies get even clearer as one gets to the first ballad, "I'll Be Free." You might as well be listening to a boy band ala "Take That." Everything is so wimpy. That is what you get when you go by the book.

With no real emotion, originality or musical interest to offer, Brazen Abbot will be, should you are to listen to them, as "guilty as sin" of wasting your time. It is strongly recommended to check out some Whitesnake (e.g. Slip of the Tongue) or post-Long Live Rock 'n' Roll Rainbow albums instead - they are much more honest and inspired. (1.5/10)

Integrity helped start this whole "metalcore" thing that is currently saturating the metal market like so much Darkthrone plagarism did a few years back. Sadly, no matter how much my inner metalcore kid wants me to, I simply do not like this album.

Just because a band innovates a sound doesn’t mean another band can’t come along, take the sound, and vastly improve it. Had <To Die For> been released five years ago, things might be different. But as it stands now, it just sounds monotonous and repetitive. All the parts of this album have been done better by numerous other bands, as has the sum.

Compare this album to Until the Ink Runs Out by Eighteen Visions for the sheer metalcore brutality, or Strings on Conscience by Unearth for a nice balance of melody and chunkyness, and it doesn’t stand up too well. Both of those bands are undoubtedly influenced by Integrity, who no longer sits on the cutting edge.

That being said, fans of mid-paced, chunky hardcore will likely enjoy this album. Originality doesn’t always equal good, and in a genre so flooded with untalented garbage, albums that push the envelope are rare. But in this reviewer’s opinion, context is everything, and too many other, better albums exist to keep this one out of the CD player. (5/10)

Body Hurting Art is a good extreme metal album. Most of the elements are there: the bloodcurdling, high screams, the bloodboiling, low grunts, the blast beats, the tremolo picking, and the disturbing subject matter. However, Osculum is a bit out of their league for the music they are trying to play.

While Body Hurting Art is not a bad concept, the music is lacking. The guitar work is technically good, but the melodies don’t "bring it." The drummer can definitely play a blast beat, but lacks creativity in transitions and his beats other than blasting just suck. The bass is elusive and the vocals, like the drums, just weren’t mixed right. Everything exists way too much in the high end. That might be why the bass is so non-existent. Under these conditions, even if the album were spectacular, the common listener would not know. (6/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

Body Hurting Art excels in its sound. Dirty, fast, treacherous black metal that rakes you like rusted barbed wire. The depraved, painful energy that emanates from the slick digipak is perfectly reflected in the music.

Osculum Obscenum throttles, and throttles hard. It’s largely in the Marduk approach to black metal – simplicity played as fast as possible, and with excruciating rasping on top. But some of us are bored to death by Marduk, so the excellent atmosphere and delivery can get a little old after a song or two. But if you dig Marduk and its cohorts, add a point or even two to the final score. (6.5/10)

It's been an ongoing debate for decades now, inspiring passion among the hordes far and wide. What is metal? More specifically, what exactly does it mean to be "metal"? Philosophy, attitude, riffery, misanthropy, elitism, torched churches, staying underground, remaining cult, knifing ex-band mates (repeatedly), murder, suicide, integrity, double kick drums, leather, espousing evil, spikes, denim, the perfect lead, heavy bottom (if you know what I mean), not selling out (or selling records), blood, anything anti-Christian.

From these few examples what can one use to enlighten the uninitiated? Is there is a magic combination of some or all of these elements when simmered together at the right temperature that forge a great shining example of metal with a capital "M"? No, of course not.

Dude, it's all about the hair.

Which brings us to Saxon's first DVD. Disc two: photo gallery: check out guitarist Paul Quinn morph from a prematurely balding baseball cap wearing axe wizard to a metal god of staggering proportions – all through the use of a bizarrely inappropriate succession of wigs spanning from the late 80s through the mid 90s.

To culminate this odyssey, proceed to the "Saxon on tour" section where you'll find three songs from a 1995 open-air festival. It took me almost a full minute to realize good ole Paul was still in the band, hidden as he was under a bouffant of such mass that would have killed a thousand Sunset Strip bands dead at a thousand paces circa 1987. You keep waiting for the thing to fall off has he bangs his head with cheerful abandon. But the glue holds.

Salvation lurked on Disc one – Saxon performing before a crowd of 30,000 at the 2001 Wacken festival. And our Paul, sporting a shaved pate under a tough guy doo-rag accented by a very aerodynamic beard. Good job, mate.

I had the privilege of watching Saxon blow headliners Iron Maiden off the stage once, on Maiden's Piece of Mind tour no less. Every once in a while you luck upon a show where a band is note perfect: musically, visually, energy, crowd interaction. Saxon clicked that night on every level. They were touring behind their last good album, Power and the Glory, and breaking significantly in the US for the first time. They owned the stage and the audience along with it. Even Eddie, all nine lobotomized feet of him, was not a threat that evening. Does The Saxon Chronicles evoke the salad days of this NWOBHM stalwart? Well, no, but it's not agonizing, either. Most of the Wacken set is wisely culled from the pre-Crusader era.

The band is tight. Biff Byford remains in fine vocal form and is a generous and self-effacing frontman. The camera work is jumpy enough to keep you involved but monotony kicks in after a while as happens with most live videos. Disc two has the requisite tour tomfoolery, TV spots and an archive of truly bad promo videos. Does anyone but the most dedicated Saxon fanatic need this? Nah. But I'd be lying if I said that I'm not a bit moved by the opening riff of "Princess of the Night," the epic majesty of "The Eagle Has Landed," or the sight and sound of 30,000 metalheads of assorted coifs chanting along to the chorus of "Denim and Leather." (5.5/10)

You might have heard that Stretch Arm Strong has "crafted a hardcore record in the purest sense," and that the record is not "mono-dimensional." But don’t be fooled. Blending steak and ice cream still doesn’t make a very good shake. And neither does this poor mix of pop-punk, hardcore (if you would even call it hard), and nu-metal.

This is simply a sell-out band that didn’t receive the how-to-sell-out memo. Engage’s package resembles Sepultura’s Roots. Even the font is the same. They have tracks titled "We Bleed," "Raise Your Fist," and "Rising Again." If it were not for the goofy name stamped on the front, you might think this was Soulfly’s answer to Sepultura’s Arise. The music is full of simplistic hooks and generic structures. And the lyrics are just as sophomoric:

"Right now! More than ever! We’ve got to stand together! Push back insecurity! Make a stand for equality now!"

Sounds like the 60s. What follows is no more rewarding: some rants about ex-girlfriends and some vague, angst-based revolution. Roy Culver did not build his resume’ with these guys.

Although the production is good, the album is a hodgepodge of multiple styles heard a thousands times, styles that use gimmicks as their main attraction. Too bad. (3/10)

I approached Menschenfeind with some polite indifference at best. Zorn's debut didn't make much of an impact - cold, raw black metal, competently handled and well executed, just not very…distinctive. (The collective "GAAAHH!" that you hear is from Roberto Martinelli and The Condor - Roberto.) There was nothing separating them from the rest of the herd mining the rich vein of early Mayhem/ Darkthrone inspired grimness.

Initial listening to Menschenfeind may have you ready to consign it to the trade pile, but subsequent spins reveal that it's a grower, featuring dynamics and shading not always obvious in the onslaught of ubiquitously buzzing guitars and shredded larynx vocals.

It's full speed ahead through most of the CD, but nestled within you'll find some surprises: time changes that translate so subtly you won't even realize it until the music kicks into hyper drive again, odd breakdowns and some general weirdness.

A few highlights: "Mordlust" begins as a slow, dirgey lament of sorts, slips to a galloping pace and then folds back and forth between the two before completely breaking down into a cacophony of blast beats, only to repeat the process until it exits through the same thick fog in which it began. "Triumphmarsch Zorn II" is blissfully brutal piece of nastiness.

Stand out track is "Sohn der manvatarischen," a pummeling, mid-tempo anthem that chugs along as delicately as a repeated kick to the skull. Epic. Recommended for anyone looking to add to their cache of misanthropic black metal. (7/10)

Feeling depressed? Suicidal? Homicidal? Genocidal? Throw this on the stereo with caution. It just might pull you headlong into the abyss.

Khanate's first album took doom to its inevitable breaking point. An end game in a genre for all things bleak and empty. Massively oppressive, it was a portal to a black hole that entirely swallowed you, ultimately collapsing around you under its own weight. Imagine the sonic rumblings of Earth with some percussion added. Now imagine you're locked in a dark, windowless room with a deranged and most probably violent man screaming in your ears over said sounds. Welcome to the world of Khanate.

So where do go after you've rutted around at the vanishing point of the doom universe? Rather than retreat, the members of Khanate have wisely decided to continue in the same manner, burying themselves just a little bit deeper into the broiling pit of despair that they spawned. There is one adjustment this time around: the "vokills" of Alan Dubin. His distinctive, unintelligible screech has remained consistent since his days in Old. This time around there's clarity in his voice not previously found. And that's the rub. You can actually understand what he's saying some of the time, making his ranting and raving just that much more unsettling.

Is he making any sense? No. At times he sounds like he's trying to invoke some demon through a made up incantation, while at others he's reciting a mantra that only he understands in order to stave off that same demon. The mere presence of words and sentence fragments that are discernable against the prevailing wails lifts his voice from the abstract to the concrete as if to say yes, he was sane, once.

Things Viral consists of four loooong (the baby of the bunch clocks in at a mere nine and a half minutes) exercises of glacial plodding. To say that these songs have a tempo is to lapse into hyperbole. Hell, calling them "songs" is pushing it. What you get is crushing atmosphere. Thick slabs of droning guitar layered over the occasional chord, punctuated every now and then by a rhythm section whose sole purpose is to flatten everything in its wake. Random bits of guitar flotsam scratch to the surface every now and then only to be pushed pitilessly back down into the murk. Dubin's voice emerges, seemingly at random, from hibernation to remind you that nothing is at all well. All of this tempered by large open spaces of near silence that get rudely intruded upon again and again.

So very ugly. So very beautiful. (8.5/10)

The 2003 reissue of Mountain’s 1971 Nantucket Sleighride is a great excuse for me to remind you all about this often forgotten, mesmerizing outfit.

Torn between the straightforward heavy rocking of guitarist Leslie West and the mellower psychedelic and experimental tendencies of bass player and producer Felix Pappalardi (renowned for his work with Cream) there was Mountain. But instead of letting these seemingly conflicting approaches ruin them, Mountain managed to make them complement each other, creating a fabric of sound that is truly their own. (The sleeve-notes on the 2003 reissue are highly helpful in understanding the chemistry that led the band)

It is for this fabric that Mountain can be claimed "Godfathers of Grunge" – and I’m convinced bands like Alice in Chains or Paw took much of their attitude and sound from it.

Unlike other outfits of their time, Mountain is not built around virtuous players; instead, it is built as the sum of its parts. This is clearly evident on the album opener "Don’t Look Around," which is a rare writing collaboration between West’s throated vocals (a possible influence for death metal vocals) and extra overdriven multi-track guitar work, alongside Pappalardi’s gentler approach. As on most of the album’s tracks, it is keyboardist Steve Knight and power drummer Corky Laing that serve as mediators between the other two – navigating from the thunderous riffs to the colorful rhythm, helping the skillful production, gluing everything together even tighter.

The production deserves further attention – Pappalardi has not used his position as a producer to quiet his rebellious band members by adjusting the recording to his side of the field; West’s characteristics are used to spice up the recording, giving it the raw live edge it so rightly deserves. West, on his behalf, also plays along to the Pappalardi’s musical themes, so that the battle is in fact more of a relationship.

The opening track also presents the original Mountain in their usual, uncompromising form. They have never hinted towards commercial success (which is probably why they are often overlooked) and always kept their inaccessible sound intact. Even the semi-romantic title track is difficult to decipher, as its melody is partially shadowed by intensity and lyrical ambiguity, yet it is a crowning achievement for the band in staying true to its identity by not losing it within the context of a love song despite the fact that it is a beautiful piece.

Mountain’s Nantucket Sleighride (together with Climbing!, which was also reissued this year) is an essential album for any hard rocker who is interested in an atypical classic and classy, intelligent yet intense performance.