This one's from a skater band in Georgia that, according to their one-sheet, grew up in "a simple way" and got into punk rock... la-la-la-la-la. They eventually, by magic, drifted onto just the right combination of instruments to despoil a genre of music with an ease that comes from listening to what's already been ripped off and then ripping that off. Yes, you lads kept the Pieces all right. And now Sum 41 want them all back.

There really isn't much you can say about an album this devoid of originality or merit. Even the artwork in the CD looks like it's probably someone else's, and it's pretty sad what record labels waste money on in hopes of reaching into the wallets of kids trying to embrace some new music. Why, this is such an utter Piece of shit, that I'm not even gonna try it on the dumpster down the alley from my house for fear it might explode. If you see this album in stores calmly walk away and ask an employee to phone Hazmat. (-3/10)

You want this album and you don't even know it. Yet. Certain conditions are necessary. If your definition of black metal extends only as far as the grim and necro, then step back and take a deep breath. Likewise, if you can only wrap your ears around the symphonic grandeur end of the black metal scale, then you need to wipe the canvas of your brain blank.

Smash barriers. Tumble walls. Break the paradigm that adheres to you. Then and only then, will Exhuming the Grave of Yeshua yield riches beyond your wildest dreams of musical avarice. The Meads of Asphodel use black metal as the outline for their sonic experimentation, incorporating NWOBHM inspired thrash, prog, psychedelic, post-rock, folk and middle eastern influences in an unpredictable landscape that flows seamlessly from one texture to the next.

Comparisons to other bands are pointless. The closest, if you must, might be the last few Enslaved albums if they were filtered through a kalidescope.

This is an album and a band rife with contradiction. Do a little etymological research on the band's name for your first clue. Add in the image, all chain mail and ill-fitting mediaeval helmets and you'd swear this is a joke band. But how many joke bands have the musical chops of a caliber such as this? Given the complexity of the song writing, repeated listening is requisite with nuances and depth that reveal themselves bits at a time. Yet the album is immediate and catchy, drawing you in from note one.

Songs one through nine flit back, forth, around and through all the above listed modes. A proggy intro begets a delirious double bass workout.

Blazing black metal dissolves in a wash of Middle Eastern melody. An up-tempo metal workout relies heavily on a folk influenced riff for its backbone. And the prize waiting at the end is track ten.

Boasting an absurd twenty-five word title, this is where the The Meads of Asphodel veer from the eclectic to the weird, with glorious results. Close your eyes and let this eleven minute slice of dementia lead you through an Egyptian bazaar as the world comes crashing down in a torrent of war while you discover the true nature of what god actually has in store for you, culminating in an after party hosted by Richard D. James.

Step up. Exhuming the Grave of Yeshua is a maiden journey to terrain you've sailed before. Prepare to see it with fresh eyes. (9/10)

What a difference an album or two makes. You might have begun to wonder what the big whup about Darkane was after the band released the very boring Expanding Senses, but cheers to Regain Records and their re-issue of Darkane’s debut, Rusted Angel, to jog our memory.

Rusted Angel is an all-time benchmark of Swedish death metal. Ruthlessly played, the music soars with remarkable energy, intent and adventure. Darkane keeps you at attention at all times as you rush down the sonic avenues that they play, always eagerly anticipating what’s around the next corner. And whether it’s memorable riffs, intricate drum fills and ripping leads, it’s always something great.

And being a re-issue, you do get some bonuses, in this case two very high quality live tracks.

Darkane has since gone on to make two albums of decreasing quality. The vocals are less impassioned, and the music can’t seem to get out of its own way. Forget those. Get this. (9/10)

"Explode onto the scene" is a term that fits the arrival of keyboardist Richard Andersson. Why, in the pages of Maelstrom alone, you’ll find articles of four projects in which he has taken part (Time Requiem, Karmakanic, Adagio and Midnight Sun) over the course of two years. And of the ones *we’ve* heard, anyway, Space Galaxy is by far the best.

Well, truth be told, Space Odyssey sounds a LOT like Yngwie Malmsteen’s Alchemy, and particularly the song "Wield my Sword" from that particular album. So initially it may seem that Space Odyssey is at most a flashy, virtuoso piece of unoriginality.

Closer inspection reveals that, ok, this *does* sound a lot like Alchemy, but the vocal melodies and song structures make Space Odyssey none the less endearing. Foremost are the very talented vocals of Patrik Johansson, whose rich, husky voice is highly uncommon in the wailing world of power/prog metal. And since the band is led by a keyboardist, the noodling is more evenly balanced between he and the guitar player.

And while Space Odyssey’s approach to prog metal playing has been done before – the tried and true inspiration from Baroque classical music, the show off, maximum note guitar and keyboard solos that trade the spotlight on high, whinny notes... and, well, songs that you seem to feel you’ve heard before – this CD is nonetheless superb. With irresistible vocal melodies on tracks like "Embrace the Galaxy" and "Entering the Dome," artistic originality be damned. Embrace at will. (8.7/10)

Occasionally hardcore, or what passes for it today, gets too predictable, and the tone-deaf singers with their cookie monster jabberings about the lies of democracy feel just like a piece of pizza tastes when it's been in the microwave too long. Occasionally it all sounds like a gelatinous glob of shit, with very little creativity, but lots of style biting.

Every so often I feel like an album (any style) is just a cop-out by four or five guys who'd play almost fucking anything to get somewhere. Some bands could easily grab a trombone player, make their colors all clash, get the first name that pops into a passing three-year-old's head, and start playing ninth wave ska. Or they could start chain smoking, abuse their mother's eyeliner, shrink their clothing and become an "indie" band. You see where this could go, right?

Scars of Tomorrow came up fast, but luckily, seem sincere about the eleven songs here. The seem to truly enjoy the weighty noise they make, but the singer, though adequate, may as well be a roadie for all he's really contributing. Or, if they just taught him how to actually sing a little it would keep them from getting pigeonholed with bands who've far, far less ability. Rope Tied to the Trigger is a good album regardless, especially "Suffocating Words", but <I>some</I> variation in the voice department might have been nice. But, hey, maybe he can haul a mean amp? (7/10)

Seems some black metal bands are trying to beef up their image by becoming corporate. Cadaver Inc. was the first to do it. But when people criticize black metal as going commercial, they probably won’t be thinking of Goatlord Corp.

Early Beginnings of War is as far from polished and clean as you can get. The band plays with conviction but remains rather unadventurously within the musical black metal framework. But like other records we’ve heard on Battlesk’rs Records, there’s something uniquely dirty and strong about the way the ripping, blasting music comes across. Particularly, this recording often features a very weird bass drum sound that, paired with the pattern the drummer likes to play, sounds like horses’ galloping sped up x 4.

The insider’s report says that Goatlord Corp.’s initial public offering is a good one. However, the band’s A&R team will need do some more research and tweaking to develop a product that consumers will pay top dollar for. (6.66/10)

So you might be expecting something along the lines of Nokturnal Mortem, Orphaned Land or Skyforger, groups that integrate folk instruments and music into their metal attack. But to the uninitiated ear at least, there doesn’t seem to be much traditional stuff on Kurukshetra at all. Opening track "Justified Aggression" has a kind of swirling, Arabic delivery that reminds of Lykathea Aflame, but that seems to be the long and the short of it for most of the record. Some acoustic instrumentation shows up on "Ye Immortal One," but it’s in the form of a rather forgettable intro that exists almost totally apart from the main song it precedes.

Rather, Kurukshetra is unmistakebly an extreme metal album. Much of the material consists of buzzing, held out, semi-melodic riffs that are paced by semi-technical breakdowns. "Apostasy" is the best showcase of this with its gripping opening riffing and blast beats. There are also more than a few similarities to Absu, with "Mithya" being the strongest one.

So in the end, Rudra is a nice surprise and also a bit of a disappointment. But the good far outweighs the bad. Rudra has its own flavor, and its songs are well developed and enjoyable metal tunes. The instrumentation is well done, but the harsh vocals sound like they could have been mixed better. But traditional Indian music novices who get turned on by the band’s claims will be left scratching their heads. (7/10)

(Editor’s note: Incidentally, Rudra is made up of ethnic Indians from Singapore. Apparently, Rudra is part of a group that believes that people of their ethnic background are in fact the true Aryans. You can check it out at www.thearyanhorde.com)

Apparently, there’s a new way to spell the word "cult" in such a way that it applies only to the cultness of black metal. By "cult," we are talking about how much people like something inversely proportional to the amount of people who like, or even know, about the thing. So spell it "kvlt." It’s as amusing as it is cool. And why not? You’ve got the "v" as "u," which pays homage to the grandeur of Ancient Rome, and anything with a "k" is more Teutonic. And the Germans make some of the best black metal ever.

And Crebain is as kvlt as they come. Night of Stormcrow has been "out" for some time now, available in channels only befitting the kvltest (i.e. eBay and a limited run at Aquarius Records). And we’ve seen this homemade CDR album go for $50 and up. The rage is catching on, too. Terrorizer has gone ape shit, and people are starting to get antsy for the upcoming split with another of California’s most kvlt of kvlts, Leviathan.

So is Crebain worthy of the hype? Well, like any hype, some of it exists in the mind of the hypee. But Night of Stormcrow shows that this one man-project has a lot of great things to offer black metal enthusiasts.

Night of Stormcrow is Ancalgon, Crebain’s sole member’s, first stab at recording. One man projects’ first recording efforts should be all this good. A biting guitar sound conveys the hate-plagued melodies that are played with delicacy and nimbleness. The drum machine is heavy and full, and the effect distorted vocals scathe in just the right way. Track three is a surprisingly effective slow song that paces the faster material around it well.

Once upon a time, Ancalgon was in a band called Gauderon Dherg, which out-kvlts even Crebain in that the only testament to this three-man group’s existence is a three-song practice tape recorded on a boombox. Kvltness aside, the material is better than 90 percent of the black metal albums you’ll ever hear. And thankfully, one of the songs from this recording, "By Our Talons Heaven Shall Fall," is covered here in all its glory.

And black metal wouldn’t be properly kvlt without some element of goofiness. "Time to Die" opens up with the recording of a nursery rhyme, followed by the hilariously bizarre and silly, maniacal laughter of Ancalgon.

But the majority of Night of Stormcrow is devoid of levity. The guitar playing is precise and efficient. Ancalgon writes excellent riffs and has already found his own signature. Some touches of beauty are overtly presented with female choir pieces, and less directly but still strongly through some of the melodies that Ancalgon writes and twists into seething fury.

Crebain has done very, very well. There’s still a good amount of room for improvement, like a slightly less polished and digital sound and a more in-depth album. Look for that on the upcoming split with Leviathan. Can’t wait. (7.9/10)

From War to Darkness launches into its material like the black torrents through busted floodgates, and keeps the intensity up throughout most of the record.

There is a pause for reflection on "On My Throne," the definite highlight of the album. After a pretty generic acoustic intro (the afterthought acoustic bits are one Eternal Majesty’s least strong elements), this song delivers a fine sense of epic energy most commonly labeled "Pagan" or "Celtic." Basically, imagine a tribe of Scots on horseback charging over grassy hills, and you’ve got a good idea.

The rest of From War to Darkness is made up of very hummable, drony riffs that stick out noticeably less. Raging drum battery underlies it all, with the over-the-edge of sanity vocalist cutting loose somewhere in there.

In the end, Eternal Majesty is a bit like a much more melodic version of Antaeus. From War to Darkness has got the right heart, and the execution is well done. And like Battlesk’rs' back catalogue, the album’s production is fierce and bludgeoning and loud. Eternal Majesty does have a few nuts and bolts to tighten, though, in order to make an album that is highly recommendable. But black metal fans can get this without fear. (7.5/10)

Black metal fans don’t normally take to metalcore that well, but When White Becomes Black may be the album to change their minds.

For metalcore, the sound on When White Becomes Black is rather thin. In fact, it’s downright lo-fi for the genre. Instead of blowing you away with a full, organic drum attack, the kit explodes into thousands of trebly shards with every hit.

The screaming vocals are as intense as any heard in the genre, and like the music, convey a great deal of depth. Indeed, there is a strong black metal sentiment to the vocals’ delivery and pitch, which makes the dark undercurrent of the moody music all the more effective. Think of the debut album by Charger mixed with All is Suffering (read the reviews in our pages) to get some idea of the push and pull of rage and pummel broken up by the sonic equivalent of an iron tomb.

At A Loss Records has been making quite a solid impression in very little time by releasing albums that pull off the trick of being highly technical yet feeling organic and primal. Unpersons, Cream Abdul Babar/Kylesa, and now Swarm of the Lotus. And thankfully, all three albums stand entirely on their own merit.

The more you look and listen to this CD, the more you realize it’s uniqueness. With the rapid saturation of metalcore, it’s great to find a band that can bring something original to the fold. Primarily, Swarm of the Lotus’ music is highly evocative in its furiously despondent and sinister energy. It is a metalcore album, yes, but the misty, heavy feel of the intense sounds and delivery make it sound like the black metal record that Today is the Day and Dazzling Killmen would make. Really great. (8.1/10)

Like Soilwork? You'll love these guys.

Chimaira is getting a lot of notice since the release of this, their third album, in 2003. They've gotten praise and lengthy interviews from Kerrang to Revolver. They're touted as ushering in a "new wave of American metal" left and right. How much of this attention is due to their publicity agents with Roadrunner is hard to say. Exaggerated? Maybe. Undeserved? Definitely not.

Just from an initial listen it is clear these guys have been fans of metal for years – they seem to have a passion for the music and a good feel for how to bring a unique and interesting sound to the table. Each song is polished, complete and well thought-out to the smallest details. Andols Herrick's drumming isn't extremely fast or intense, but it's solid, tight and ever-changing. The guitars are good and crunchy, and Rob Arnold executes some impressive solos. The instrumentation combines into a type of death-thrash with clarity and driving, grinding force. Chris Spicuzza adds limited amounts of computer-generated sound that doesn't get in the way but serves to amplify what's going on with the other elements. Impressively polished production makes every line audible, which is perfect for such technical stuff.

Mark Hunter's vocals are the one thing I'm not crazy about. He has a high-pitched hardcore scream that lacks depth, and the lyrics aren't all that impressive, either. They're standard for hardcore-style songs, too – nearly everything is written in first person, usually talking to a second person who has done the first person wrong: "I fucking hate you," "Bury my dreams. I will bury you," "I won't stop until you need me," "You cannot fuck with me like you have in the past," and "I'm betrayed by you/Won't be overlooked by you" – pretty juvenile stuff. But besides the lack of richness in lyrics and vocals (which still have a good intensity and timing), it's hard to find fault with Chimaira. The Impossibility of Reason is a good, solid listen that is sure to please fans of thrash and hardcore, even if it's not quite as original or groundbreaking as the publicity would have you believe. (8.5/10)

The most appropriate adjective that could be used for Life of Agony’s live compilation is "O.K." This New York band has one foot in the thrash spectrum and the other planted firmly in rock. They’ve got energy onstage, but not all that much. They get kind of hard, but not nearly hard enough for a real metal fan – there are no really intense grooves or insane riffs, just some head-nodding parts here and there.

They’ve got good instrumentation, but not that good. The drums and guitars stay together and play into each other well, but again, they don’t really break out anything that wonderful and they often get repetitive while they wait for the end of a verse. The band also settles for a mid-tempo, pop-y formula rather than doing something truly original or unexpected, and the often off-key sung vocals are nothing if not run-of-the-mill.

It is a listenable mixture of elements, but the 2003 incarnation of Life of Agony, a band that originally formed in 1989, can’t even hold a candle to what Slayer was doing in 1983 instrumentally, vocally or in any other way. A possibly unfair comparison, but a telling one nonetheless – Life of Agony isn’t making rock OR metal any better than they were 20 years ago. They’ve managed to form a sizeable following, and the crowd is obviously made up of dedicated fans, but it must be one of those "you had to be there" types of events, because it sure doesn’t translate well onto DVD, especially for someone who isn’t already a fan of theirs. A few extra features like interviews and a band bio might also be interesting for fans, but even they aren’t very well done. This one gets a 5 for its sheer mediocrity. (5/10)

"Stampin' Ground" must be in the top 20 "worst band names ever" hall of fame, but their sound more than makes up for it. A British band formed in '95, Stampin' Ground has built up quite a following with their energetic brand of thrashy hardcore.

They build up a foot-"stampin'" intensity with Adam Frakes-Sime's aggressively yelled vocals, well-timed and ever-changing grooves from the guitars and extreme accuracy from Neil Hutton on drums. The production is extra-clear, too, which fits their straightforward style.

Their live shows are surely a sight to see – they'd definitely get a pit going in a matter of seconds. But Stampin' Ground does have its shortcomings: the vocals lack in richness and quality, and the guitars and drums, though tight and relatively groovy, fail to reach greatness. The rhythms and chord structures they use are hardly more than standard. They're good musicians, and they pay attention to the details (such as intricate drum rhythms and guitar riffs), but they aren't anything really original or wonderful. They have managed to make A New Darkness Upon Us a fairly good and listenable album, but there are a lot better bands out there. (6.5/10)

From the little I know of Gorerotted, Only Tools and Corpses seems to be quite a fitting album. With their grindcore/death instrumentation mixed with hardcore screams and deep growls, "gore" almost had to be in their name. Frantic death riffs run together over blast beats accurately, but not TOO accurately – with their brand of music, being too tight and crisp just wouldn't fit. The production is excellent, too (actually, it gives their sound a sort of Dying Fetus quality). It allows the intricacies to be heard, but everything still melts together into a solid, heaving mass that hints at the violent themes of the music.

No one can say Gorerotted doesn't have a sense of humor about their brand of death, and songs titles like "Zombie Graveyard Rape Bonanza," "Village People of the Damned," and "Masticated by the Spasticated" add volumes to the beauty of the album. It's one of those "I like it because it's ugly" types of things. Mr. Gore's hardcore-ish "Cockney Oi," as the press materials call it, bring the lyrics out above the growls and take Gorerotted's sound fully over the top. Their riffs are good, but they're not really all that outstanding.

This album surely could have come out years ago, so if you're looking for something cutting-edge, this ain't it. But if you keep Deicide and old Cannibal Corpse in your CD player, Only Tools and Corpses would be a good addition – they've got an edge that isn't present in a lot of death, and they succeed greatly in reaching the sound they're going for. (7/10)

When one has a long-standing status in metal history, does one ever receive a certain carte blanche in that whatever one releases will be gobbled up by one's faithful fans? Quite possibly, but one thing is certain: this new King Diamond album is inane and stupid, and I can imagine that many of his faithful fans are no longer laughing with him as much as they are laughing at him.

Interestingly enough, King Diamond has never had that great of a singing voice (let's face it, he has a horrible, almost nonexistent sense of pitch), and yet he has a seemingly immoveable stance as one of metal's more "versatile" voices. While this has been used to decent effect on a few of his 80s releases (namely Abigail and most of Merciful Fate's early releases), here he sounds tired and weak. King Diamond just can’t win: When he sings high, he sounds like a eunuch, and when he sings low, he sounds like Mr. Burns.

What we have here is yet another concept album from a person whose sense of concept and story is also now nonexistent. What about the music, you ask? Well, Mike Wead, Andy La Roque, bassist Hal Patino, and drummer Matt Thompson all do what little they can in the face of Diamond's bland sense of songcraft and story, all of them fulfilling their duties quite admirably. It's a damn shame the songs themselves are insipid and boring. (4/10)

The album is competently played and surprising well-written given the stylistic constraints of the genre itself. While my liking for this style of music doesn't reach beyond a select few artists, this mini-CD (housed in an oh-so-adorable mini jewel case) has found its way into my CD player a lot more frequently than I had originally anticipated. I can imagine fans of Sorcery-era Kataklysm finding lots to like with this little EP. Two reluctant thumbs up. (7/10)

For the original vision of black metal to remain cult and true, bands in the genre can do two things: either continue to re-hash what has come so many times before, or become increasingly weird and alien. Draugar is a prime example of the latter.

Draugar is Hildolf, and he makes music as if Azathoth the Blind Idiot God himself had taken possession of Hildolf’s soul and were controlling his body with a remote for one of those battery operated cars you can buy at Radio Shack. Draugar’s take on the blackest of metal is a frantic approach whose uniqueness lies in its being barely kept in check. The only things that gets your mind around the schizophrenic guitar work are slow, deliberate keyboard melodies that sound like they are being played by a 5-year old. Underlying it all is a drum machine that is purposely buried deep, deep beneath it all, giving the immense feeling of disorientation even more strength.

Vocally, Hildolf masks himself even further with an effect that makes his rasps sound like they’re coming from inside a tornado, twisting and turning as randomly and effectively as the guitar playing. You may think about putting Draugar alongside totally alienating, ambient/black metal acts as Abruptum, but Draugar is far more musical. However, comparisons to the particular Abruptum song, "De Profundis Mors Vas Cousumet" and the mood that it weaves, would be valid.

Aside from a song that features much use of guitar lines and tones lifted directly from Immortal, From Which Hatred Grows is an album that will be entirely original to discerning black metal ears. And as good as this album is, the previous, unreleased one, Silence and Suffering, is even better. Here’s to hoping that one is also unleashed upon the masses. (8/10)

Good evening, and welcome to "How to Acquaint a Young Person With the World of Rock." This week – Ten Benson. If an unsuspecting member of your entourage has yet to be acquainted with the primal rock n’ roll of London’s best back-woodsmen, lock them in a room with 48 cans of Coors (warm), the complete works of AC/DC and ZZ Top, and a copy of Tobe Hooper’s culinary classic, "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre." Marinate for a week (cf. it is important that the inhabitants do not have access to sanitary facilities).

Some band’s names come embedded with so much flotsam n’ jetsam from the past of pop culture that any attempt to look at them objectively is doomed to failure – you can only shrug, smile, and buy your ticket for the free-association ride. For example, "The Monolith" makes me think of Keir Dullea, all alone in space, staring into some jerry-rigged ‘60s oil lamp contraption, saying "it’s full of stars…." while rehearsing his Oscar acceptance speech. In short, I was expecting an album of portentous drones. Just goes to show how wrong I can be.

The Monolith are a local SF act built around a core three-piece comprising Dahlia Ramirez, Bill Roussea, and Rogge. Yes, that Rogge; and no, I don’t know what he signs on his checks. All I do know is that, if there’s any justice in the world, he’ll soon be signing autographs. The Monolith have made a record that delights and disappointments in equal measures. The band display an impressive mastery of studio technology (perhaps due to building the damn thing themselves) and sound completely in control, not rough, not over-produced, just right. If this record was a bowl of porridge and I was goldilocks…well, you get my drift.

The order of the day here is lushly orchestrated guitar pop, played with equal deference to the distortion pedal and the pitch-perfect harmony. It’s just that a couple of tracks (like the opening "43") strike a false note, being unremarkable indie rock. It’s this initial low expectation that I couldn’t shift when listening to the rest of the album, even when faced with something as ambitious and well executed as the final track, "Trilogy." Somehow, the band manage to deftly overcome the horrible pretentiousness implicit in a "trilogy" or "suite" of pop songs by delivering a fantastic song that switches from acoustic picking to orchestrated pop to crushing rock over its three movements.

The opening movement sounds near to the angelic mini-symphonies of Elliott Smith from "Figure 8" or Wilco’s "Pieholden Suite" from Summerteeth: both examples of how to create ambitiously orchestrated popular music without coming over like a lab-coated theory technician. If the band manage to build on the best moments in this album, their next disc will truly be a thing of beauty. (6.9/10)

Does this make sense to you? "Hello! I am fun play now! All will enjoy delights of bountiful window skies!" Nah, me neither. But reading the title of Menomena’s first album made me think of the bizarre "Japanglish" slogans that I’ve seen in duty free shops and tourist t-shirt boutiques the world over, living proof of the beautiful ambiguity of language when taken out of context… or the boundless ability of westerners to feel superior when other people can’t speak their language.

The joke’s on me, though: the title is actually an anagram of "the first Menomena album," a bit of smart fun that’s rather like the album itself, which never takes itself too seriously, until, of course, it does. Confused? Let’s start at the beginning.

The first track, "Cough Coughing," comes on all Folk Implosion with its sweet vocals and Protools loops until, well, it doesn’t. A bouncing bass line leads you towards some weird laptop-edited landscapes where all is not as it seems, the Barlow-esque throaty harmonies of the first verse recede, and the song morphs around into an entirely different beast before performing an Immelman turn and heading back to planet pop. Whew!

It’s a good template for the album as a whole. The band effortlessly use the possibilities opened up by accessible recording technology to perform hyperspeed jumps from one genre to another, showing that possession of a laptop and an indie sensibility does not necessarily mean one must sell one’s soul to the glitch demon. Planet Menomena is a place where the boundless creation at the heart of all good pop music is given place to breathe, even though the air is more likely to be 80% lysergic acid than oxygen. Only the rather uninspired downbeat track "Rose" and the goes-on-too-long "Monkey’s Back" prevented this climbing into the hallowed 8/10s. Good job, and well worth hunting down. (7.7/10)

Panzerdivision is the latest one-man band by David Lie, whose Gloom project has been very well received by several members on Maelstrom’s staff. This latest band is touted under the banner of "Machinery Productions," a group of Oslo-based underground music projects. In a way, this group represents the ideal of the underground world's subculture: a gathering of people with similar ideologies coming together in order to produce art.

Unsurprisingly, the ideas dealt with in Proactive Command fit in well with a view of willful, protest-oriented activism: the causes and effects of war in our world.

The music of Panzerdivision may be described as an industrial brand of death metal, featuring a certain American influence. The core of the music is composed most markedly of trebly, distorted guitar, accentuating riffs of alternately tremolo-picked and thrashy character, accompanied by intensely programmed drumming and growling vocals. No clear presence of a bass guitar is detectable.

Proactive Command remains in the familiar realms of the genre without claiming to be innovative. However, the recording’s strength lies mostly in its sound production value.

Each song on the MCD contains several additions of weird, extraneous sounds: The computerized drumming is enriched by industrial sounds and beats, as well as different synthetic effects, adding a well accomplished shade of disturbance to the overall atmosphere.

Within the pieces are also mingled quotes from different sources, including media commentary and religious choirs. These sonic images, when joined together with the swift, brief and flat manner of guitar work, represent what the writer Baudrillard talks about as the "present day war experience" -- a feeling of engulfing, hectic vehemence. The war doesn't actually take place; it has become a mere chain of linked spectacular, boasted media events as demonstrated in real time in front of the eyes of the world. It is hard to determine whether Lie had actually, intentionally aimed at invoking such sensations amongst the listeners. Regardless of this unresolved uncertainty, he has quite well succeeded.

However, Proactive Command still evidently bears several attributes of unripeness: The lo-fi production makes the guitar and vocals sound as if they turned out badly by accident, while the impeccable accuracy of the drum machine reveals the flaws in the instrumental performance, as well as drawing attention to the shallowness of the compositions.

As is common with inexperienced, independent artists, Panzerdivision is determined, honest and not without potential. However, much improvement is needed in order to reach something artistically whole. Lie does create provocative and artistic moments, but lacking a thematic spinal cord, they often deteriorate into cliche. All in all, when adding to the equation the blessed initiative of "Machinery Production" and the great value found in an artistic expression featuring a coherent conceptual conveyance, the overall impression should definitely be considered positive. (6.5/10)

There is a certain sense of enchantment when music that is founded on a concrete ideology. It may be even more charming if the ideology is original or fantastic. Such is the case with the music of V:28, an offspring of the opulent grounds of the Norse extreme metal world. As described in detail on their website, the band's activity is based upon a defined, self-composed concept: the number 28 is at the root of the innate void of human existence, being the key to the process of physical and spiritual deconstruction.

The lyrics of the album feature numerous variations over the theme of annihilation, mostly dealing with Man's futile longing to retain his humanity in the face of the explosion of technology. For some reason, the also have something against trees.

The manifest of V:28 is fictitious, shallow and unconvincing, and probably not taken that seriously by the band members themselves. Nevertheless, to the hopeful listener, it should count for something. Unfortunately, V:28 fail to accomplish such a goal, in spite of their promising potential. It appears that, perhaps due to the superficiality of their agenda, their musical output does not even attempt to adequately represent their ideology. This could have been easily forgiven if they would have managed to make an album of good music.

The music of V:28 is usually based upon traditional black metal tremolo picked guitar melodies, at times adorned by riffing thrash or doom/death. Backed by a droning drum-machine, atmospheric keyboards and a general hint of the usual "cold and estranged" feel, the band should probably be considered modern black metal.

Allegedly, such choice of genre seems to properly match the band’s agenda. The guitar riffs are harsh and lifeless, the vocals excruciated, the drum machine steady and ruthless (besides a few expected rhythm shifts, not interfering with the well emphasized, linear feel of the music). However, the essential fault is that none of the compositions are truly interesting, all following given, easily recognized conventions of the genre. And worse: the music is widely based on strongly tonal (or modal) melodies, representing all but void and hollowness: most of the lines are saturated with standard characteristics of common Eastern modes, not attempting to manipulate them or generate any transformation to their most simple principles.

It should be noted that, if performance is concerned, the work of V:28 is not horrible or unbearable, but simply mediocre and uninspired. Had their musical release not been accompanied by such an invigorating textual aspect, they would have simply appeared as a trite, uninteresting apparition. Considering the given circumstances, their album is a cause of bitter disappointment. (3/10)

One of the highest ideals art is held to is the achieving of something bare of any decipherable context. The idea is to confront the observer with an object of complete opacity, forcing him to go through a purely aesthetic, unconnected and unrelated experience.

There is much doubt and theoretical argument regarding the possible applicability of such an abstract concept in our reality, which is based on convention. However, on his side project Especially Likely Sloth, Jason Walton (bassist of Sculptured and Agalloch, who, if reading this, is probably bursting out in laughter right now) has come interestingly close.

For those unfamiliar with the frame story of Especially Likely Sloth, a brief background: the project features the preaching of Chriss Cobb, a retarded eight-year old boy who delivers (as channeled through Walton, of course) the tidings of Svenkta, a truly anguishing hell (as opposed to the traditional one which, in our present mournful reality, is no longer depicted as such a bad option).

The musical of Especially Likely Sloth clearly sounds estranged of any given genre. It mostly features intertwined keyboard ostinato parts over a hectic drum-machine backup, superimposed by the sped up, animated vocals of Chriss Cobb, as well as alternating samples and quotes (most conspicuous is Walton's affinity to "The Simpsons"). The applied keyboard sounds are usually of various organ timbres, resembling in atmosphere (and often compositionally as well) themes of old television commercials, arcane video games, grotesque carnival music, or, at times, horribly superior brands of cheap Techno and Dance music.

Nevertheless, no stylistic unity may be realized: the parts are indistinct, including influences of differing musical approaches and standards, and interspersed by occasional varying musical samples (for example, classical orchestra, jazzy trumpet, and one guitar solo by Don Anderson of Sculptured). The only common denominator may be the recurring vocals of Chris, delivering phrases of Walton's nonsensical humor (which is hard to critique. Some will surely find it hilarious, others will not).

All of these ingredients sum up to an experience of eclecticism and diversity. Although bearing certain resemblance to the works of other humor-laden avantgarde artists (Mr. Bungle first comes to mind), But If What He'll What Ant is an album nearly impossible to enclose or sort by accepted, well spread and commonly phrased terms. Rather, it bestows the attentive, concentrated listener with an unrecognizable, perhaps impossible to articulate brand of musical experience.

Working under the name of Especially likely Sloth, Jason Walton probably does not intend to achieve but an entertaining expression of his singular sense of humor. Although contradicting his initial intentions, even those who fail to find his bizarre utterings funny should still absorb this extraordinary effort, a curious phenomenon worthy of inspection. (???/10)

Whatever the politics of the individual, it cannot be denied that the National Socialist black metal scene has brought with it some fantastic musical ideas. Much of it stems from the bands taking such pride in their art. It’s often basic, raw and abrasive, but it's all to the good if it creates an effective atmosphere.

The Voice of Our Blood is a very interesting collection of some of today's prominent NSBM acts. Ad Hominem stuck out as a most commendable representative of the scene, with the brute force of "Total Volkerrord" being on of my favourites on this album. Equally impressive, though very different in their approach are Temnozor and Nokturnal Mortem (the latter contributing a track from their excellent Ne Christ album), both taking a more folk-influenced road. From what I have heard from Russian outfit Temnozor, they are a band with material to be sought out at all costs. As for Nokturnal Mortem, I have yet to hear a disappointing track by them.

Of course there are some bands on this compilation who are more up front with their political stance than others. Contained within the CD booklet are the philosophies of Aryan Warlord and Grom, and the violently anti-Jewish lyrics of Wolfnacht. The dig taken at the "Nihilistic Black Metal crowd" is a little perplexing, as it was from this crowd ("our mortal enemy") that the NSBM scene was musically founded. Ah well, each to their own.

If you happen to come across this album, listen to it first and foremost for the music itself. If the National Socialist standpoint happens to appeal to you, just think of it as a bonus. (8/10)

While I thoroughly appreciate what Apostasy are trying to achieve with this album, the fact is that this ground has already been covered in depth by Old Man's Child and Dimmu Borgir. To take it a step further, Cell 666 seems very much to be some kind of homage to Dimmu's Enthrone Darkness Triumphant. The riffing style, the rhythms, the twinkly keyboards, all the ingredients are there. In places, it's practically a carbon copy. Damn shame really, because the pure quality of the recording makes me wish that it hadn't all been done before. Still, a fine job for what it is. (5/10, but 8/10 for those who can't get enough melodic black metal of this kind)

These past few years have brought a fair number of female vocalists into the metal spotlight. Gone are the days when Lita Ford and Doro Pesch were the only names run up the flagpole, and for quite a while, there has been a silence in the brutish male-dominated world of heavy metal. This was thankfully broken by the likes of The Gathering, Nightwish, Opera IX, Tristania, Astarte, Arch Enemy and Sinister, to name but a few.

Amaran, fronted by Johanna DePierre, are vaguely similar to the modern Arch Enemy, with their aggressive yet melodic blast of thrash metal, and seem quite capable of becoming leading lights in their field. Despite having a vocal style in common with Christina Scabbia, Amaran quite frankly leave Lacuna Coil trailing in the dust. The gorgeous riffing and harmonies between guitarists Kari Kainulainen and Ronnie Backlund lends a razor-sharp edge to the tunes, backed up by the pounding rhythm section of bassist Mikael Andersson and drummer Robin Bergh.

Pristine in Bondage is the second album from these Swedish metallers, and how I had never become acquainted with their work until now is a tragic mystery. If the events of recent years are anything to go by, their name should be on the bill with the likes of Nevermore or Moonspell before long.

The melodies that lie over the powering riffs often have a strange serenity to them, as though you could just as easily let the music wash over you as headbang along. The strongest track would have to be the suggestively titled "Without Stains," without a doubt the catchiest of them all.

This band still have a few steps forward to take, but Pristine in Bondage is a class fucking gem. It's going to be exciting to watch their future endevours. (8/10)

Here we have a compilation of lesser known "true" metal bands from around the world that would have had me in front of the mirror with a tennis racket a decade or so ago.

I would recommend in particular Austria's Madog, a superior reply to Hammerfall, with the joyously catchy "Heart of Dragonsteel." Nice rugged guitar sound and appealing, almost Dio-esque power metal vocals. I wouldn't say that most of the bands on here are overly impressive, but they do seem to know what they're doing. Another track that caught my ear was the Megadeth styling of Dr. Mastermind's "Haunted," that seemed to also have a few Anthrax overtones.

It would appear that power metallers Metharia have taken the admirable stance of singing in their native Italian, which gives distinction to "Riflesso." In fact, the vast majority of the bands, if not power metal themselves, at least display a degree of power metal influence.

There are certain factors that let down the proceedings. Art of Fear's farting bass sound distracts from the otherwise decent quality of the music, as do the intrusive keyboard tracks of Mercury Rain.

It's good for putting on a personal stereo whilst getting from A to B, though few of the included bands make for outstanding home listening. (6.4)

If there is any beauty or artistic value in tar running down a weathered stone wall, then look for it in Xasthur. This split with Acid Enema is actually some sort of re-issue, if you count the limited edition, CDR-only albums that were made some years ago. Well, thanks to Total Holocaust Records, you don’t have to pay $50 on eBay anymore to get this little gem of one of the US’ most important black metal hordes.

This split is an excellent pairing of two bands that have a common thread yet deliver something unique and independent of the other. Xasthur is like mortals’ excruciating trudge through the monolithic swamp of some fantasy interpretation of the material world. The beautiful, ethereal reprieve on "Doomed by Howling Winds" is like the collective sigh of relief of souls newly departed to a much better place. But as we rise above the miasma to view this angelic scene, so we fall back down.

Acid Enema begins with a lilting, soft-spoken intro before tearing into its own version of one-man black metal fury. Acid Enema feels more straightforward and traditional that Xasthur, but the production values, vocal delivery and intent is dead on. A shame the scene hasn’t heard a thing from Acid Enema since. You can read a cryptic message by Acid Enema’s sole member to the world here: http://acidenema.widerstand.org/

Xasthur has gone on to release far better material, but that shouldn’t speak less of the quality of this split. Black metal fans, here’s the chance you have been awaiting for a while. (Xasthur: 7.5/10, Acid Enema: 7.5/10)

Please. Feel no pity for Dez Fafara.

Sure, Coal Chamber got the short end of a pretty huge stick, in effect becoming the whipping child for the anti-nu-metal crowd. Yes, being called Coco the Clown behind your back must have stung just a wee bit. True, your ex-bassist is bitter and persuaded her drummer/husband to record a less than charming little ditty aimed right between your septum piercing.

Lamentably, your band, which shot out of the gate like a freshly beaten Greyhound, faltered around the first turn, stumbling while others perhaps less worthy caught the electric rabbit and wrung its fragile neck to greater glory.

No. No pity. Let's review:

– Coal Chamber was a good band. Standing just a little bit taller than their siblings, a whole lot heavier, and damn sure weirder from a musical standpoint. Plus, with your Ralph Kramden on acid bellow they far distanced themselves from the faux/bad rapping stylings of their brethren.

– Nothing clownish about you, no siree. Hell, who are we kidding? If the (clown) shoe fits... Check out any promo shots from Coal Chamber's first two albums. Never mind.

– You replaced said ex-bassist with one who was way hotter. And her husband's band blows.

– You've a new band that not only threatens to catch the damned rabbit but tear it to bloody shreds.

In recent interviews Dez has attributed his musical rehabilitation to a steady diet of black and death metal and an eschewal of commercial considerations. Has he gone Darkthrone on our collective ass? Well, no. This is more like Coal Chamber mach II minus most, but not all, nu-metal bounciness.

About half the tracks maintain ties to his previous band's sonic blueprint. "I Dreamed I Died" and "Revelation Machine" are practically remakes of "Loco." The fabulously titled "Swinging the Dead" does in fact bounce, but maliciously so – Coal Chamber with steroid rage.

To be fair, it's not all hype. This IS heavy. The drums in particular have been recorded with a death metal feel; those enamoured of double kick time keeping will be in heaven. Overall the riffery has a distinctively thrashy feel at times calling to mind Slayer, Meet The Wretched Pantera or Pissing Razors. This backdrop has allowed Dez to broaden his palette, a little death metal barking here, a smattering of black metal hiss there: little controlled bits of vocal chaos wafting above the churning precision of the music lying beneath.

So let's call this a transition album for Mr. Fafara. It's not easy to leave the nest, that first step is always a doozy. Now that he knows he can run it'll be interesting to see just how fast he can go. (7/10)

Yippiee! Eleven poser tracks including drum solo plus stupid CD title, all in one! Ok, I’m joking. Being METAL, you’re not supposed to bite the hand of the ubiquitious master feeding you with another "best of" collection, are you?

Uhm, well, I arrogate to do so. I definitely do like Accept and Udo, but do we need really need this album? If one is after a really good live recording of Accept, I would strongly recommend Accept's Double CD album, Staying Alive, back from 1990. (And then there is "Final Chapter" from 1998, which I had not yet had the pleasure to listen to.)

With this album you’ll at least got to be (re)aquainted with "Hard Attack." It was actually funny to listen to it again as "hard attack" could just as easily be "heart attack." Does this mean:

1. This is totally embarrassing for the author of this review, because he doesn't know the proper song title.

or is it

2. Totally embarrassing for Accept, because people deem it totally possible that they make up lyrics like that.

Anyway: the recording of this live album is great and the fact that Udo has not yet suffered from laryngeal cancer is more than astonishing (although his duet with Doro Pesch on his last album, Man and Machine, casts this into doubt). But as good as Nailed to Metal is, personally I would rather go for Staying Alive (even though you would miss out the "Heart Attack" track...) (7/10)

Do you belong to those adoring Wild Honey and A Deeper Kind of Slumber? Then I guess you may have been slightly irritated about the mellow atmosphere of Tiamat’s last album (Judas Christ).

Prey came surprisingly quickly on the heels of its predecessor, and so I was already concerned that Edlund might have taken good-mood-rock from Judas Christ and ran with it, but ease your mind.

Basically, the setting is the same: slow, gothic metal, occasional samples are dropped in... typically Tiamat. In terms of the compositions, the album is very disappointing, since it is lacking much of the complexity of earlier albums. Though the range of instruments has not changed considerably, it does not have the enchanting atmosphere to it that makes you want to listen to the whole CD over and over.

On A Deeper Kind of Slumber, a simple keyboard sound had a deeper meaning in the musical context, evoking emotions on other levels. On Prey, the keys die off as what they are: the result of a digital signal processor doing its work after someone pressing a key. Bereaved of complexity, the tracks come over rather plain. The track "Carry Your Cross and I'll Carry Mine," set as a duet with a female singer, is a good example that much more effort could have been made in producing this album to make it sound more than an uninspired singing exercise.

All in all, the whole album leaves a shallow aftertaste. To be fair, it definitely stands out in comparison to many albums, but not in comparison to the atmospheric, dark gothic albums that Tiamat once brought to the top. If that genre is what you are searching for, consider Moonspell's The Antidote (review in last issue). (6/10)

note: the CD in our store is the deluxe edition.

Finally, finally, finally: a rock album that understands that a lack of vocals can be a blessing; an instrumental rock band whose heritage seems tied to The Church and The Cocteau Twins rather than Ornette Coleman or Glen Branca; a band who manage to combine the energy of youth with the wisdom of age. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome, to the third album from Explosions in the Sky, a quartet from Texas who play like gods and look like children. Aye, there’s the rub.

I’ll admit that I loaded The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place into my CD player with a little trepidation. Dealing with an almost universally-acclaimed band is always difficult, and Explosions in the Sky have been feted in all the right weeklies ever since their first real album, Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Die; Those Who Tell the Truth Will Live Forever, made its uneasy way into the heads of discerning rock critics the world over. As an exercise in taut, controlled dynamics, it was an amazing piece of rock: as a first album, it scorched the earth of all who challenged it.

Admirably, the boys have dealt with the possible sophomore album blues by giving us more of the same, but happier! Now, just take it easy. I don’t mean to imply that the band have turned into itinerant tree-huggers when they should have been studying advanced Marshall amp acoustics, just that any difference between this album and its predecessor should be rated on mood, rather than style. Songs that could have wallowed in melancholy instead soar for the light: on the album’s best track, "First Breath After Coma," the guitars swoop and glide, playfully sending the song into dive after dive, only to pull it up in another shower of crescendos.

If you think that the album is all meaningless fluff, though, you couldn’t be more wrong: the band delight in subtlety subverting the quiet-loud-quiet dynamic that seems de rigeur in post-rock these days (don’t worry, though: there’s a journey into fortissimo on the last two minutes of "Memorial" that will satisfy all distortion junkies). With this album, Explosions in the Sky’s main achievement is to show that, if further evidence was needed, the possible creative spaces mapped by the dimensions of drum, guitar, and bass show little sign of exhaustion yet. Long may they continue! (8.2/10)

Just got back from seeing the extended version of "The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers" in theaters. Serendipitous as it was, Doomsword’s latest album, Let Battle Commence, was my companion in the car on the ride home. Serendipity, indeed, as the grandeur and overall *metal*-ness of "Lord of the Rings" was a fitting pairing to the sounds of this Italian heavy metal band.

Let Battle Commence sounds like a solid mix of Viking-era Bathory and Manowar, with a few moments of Messiah Marcolin-fronted Candlemass reminiscence here and there. And although Doomsword are from the south of Europe, their hearts clearly dream of the North. The group sing and play so valiantly about being proud, marauding Vikings that I still remember with goose-bumped arms the chorus to "Heathen Assault" that calls to "burn! Eng-land to the ground!" And when the music dramatically pauses for the distant call of the sampled war horn? Olaf, bring me my helm.

Doomsword’s trick lies in the purest of song writing appeal. There isn’t anything particularly remarkable about the album’s parts, but together they form song after song of pure enjoyment.

Brazil’s Tuatha De Danaan may be the metal world’s most amusing example of bizarrely misplaced longing for ancient culture (the guys wish they were Celtic), but Doomsword isn’t far behind. And by the way things are shaping up, it looks as if we’re going to have to start attentively seeking out such geographically confused bands, ‘cause they rule. (8.5/10)

Until recently, the UK hasn't been known at all for its power metal (besides maybe the original influence of Iron Maiden). The likes of Mercury Rain and Dragonforce are currently holding the fort, and more are coming out of the woodwork. Among the crop of the New Wave Of British Power Metal (copyright pending) bands are a four-piece from the northern kingdom of Newcastle (or outskirts thereof), known as Fallen Skies. The demo itself is a stout effort, and certainly the kind of thing for your budding lederhosen-clad crowd. The work must be admired for what has been done in the absence of a drummer, and for a first release, I have heard FAR worse.

That said, what is present in quality is lacking in originality. These tracks are essentially a tribute to Helloween, with a few lessons from the Rhapsody school of lyrics and Maiden style harmonies. It's harsh but true. Fallen Skies have the ability, but are in need of their own style. I honestly don't know what's in the pipeline at the moment, but one can only hope that their efforts are better channelled in future. (5.7/10)

What is it about cookie cutter power metal that makes it so? Shining Fury gives us some excellent insight. There are no dynamics within the songs. Sure, some songs are "fast," others "slow" or "mid-paced," but within said songs, there is no variation of tempo.

Generally, bands that do this end up making their most enjoyable songs of the "fast" variety – a constant double bass rumble, very generic riffing, and the vocal melodies carrying almost all of the song’s signature. But ironically, Last Sunrise’s best tune is the very last, mid-tempoed tune.

But Shining Fury do cookie cutter well. There are bits in their one-dimensional songs that show knowhow and application. And <Last Sunrise> was so close to being in our "good" range, until what I believe is "Declaration of a Cheat" rolls around. Please excuse me, but the song is so, SO bad that I fear to go back and check.

In the annals of cookie-cutter power metal, this particular song may be the worst slow/ballad song of them all, and that’s saying a LOT. This mind-boggling tune opens up with almost two minutes of some of the worst indie soap opera dialogue ever heard. Now, two minutes is a very long time, especially considering that the woman in the conversation is a deplorable actress, and the guy isn’t a whole lot better. It’s so embarrassing that it’s nothing short of an invasion. And the song that’s attached to the intro is like the drip to the intro’s runny nose.

If it weren’t for CD technology and the skip button, Last Sunrise might have deserved a 0/10, just for that song. But there is enough good in the rest of Shining Fury’s record to at least salvage an average score. (5/10)

Ahh, there’s nothing like the boundless joys of a fresh-faced indie band to make you want to run around nekkid proclaiming spring is in the air! And Volcano, I’m Still Excited! (referred to as "VISE" from now on…) do their lava-lovin’ best to burn away the Paris winter blues from my bald bonce. The trio of Mark Duplass (Vocals/Organ), Craig Montoro (Guitar) and John Thomas Robinette III (Drums) don’t let their lack of a bass player hold them back for a second on this, their debut, as they motor through 16 tracks in less than 40 minutes. Maybe they just couldn’t afford any more studio time?

Whatever, it’s a moot point, as VISE’s debut is a great album of tightly-wound little songs with spiky lyrics to match. Chronicling the current state of a relationship on "2nd Gun," Duplass laments, "Poetry has given way to this": on most of his songs, he casts himself as the unlucky-in-love loser. Hey, lighten up, guy!

It’s an impressive debut, though, and stands proud with The Monolith’s album (elsewhere on these pages) as testament to the as yet unexhausted possibilities of pop. Yet while The Monolith soothe and cajole with their expansive teenage symphonies, VISE jump from genre to genre like a hyperactive child who swapped his Ritalin for M & M’s. It’s a similar feat to that performed by Spoon on their 1998 classic A Series of Sneaks (which shares the crisp production and intelligent arrangements of VISE). Both bands share an admirable ability to arrange what could be simple three chord thrashes into complex, endearing songs, with more than a little sprinkling of early Elvis Costello. Overall, an extremely promising debut. (7.3/10)

Thunderstone is a clone band. They’re Finnish and their sound is somewhere between Sonata Arctica and the Finnish power metal band that begot all Finnish power metal bands, Stratovarius. So expect to hear more than a few vocal melodies and deliveries just like Timo Kotipelto, and keyboard flittering like Sonata Arctica.

But The Burning has its quality, if you measure quality by how easily songs can get stuck in your head. "Tin Star Man" and its chorus about the singer’s electric eye is *still* rattling around in my head a week after I last heard this CD. And I’ll be damned if skipping around the CD during writing this review doesn’t prove that the first few notes of The Burning’s tracks make the songs easily recognizable.

Yes, Thunderstone have made a competent power metal album that will push the right buttons for die hard fans of the genre. But at what long term, artistic cost? Fifteen years from now, The Burning will be stumbled upon by the next generation of metal fans, who will lump Thunderstone as just another band that was part of the Euro power metal movement’s herd of followers. (5.8/10)

The results on Metallica’s latest album, St. Anger, are in, and no one (no one reliable, anyway) likes it one bit. Everyone talked about how bad the snare drum sounds. But more importantly, there’s some horrific attempts at starting a song off hard and fast and metal, and then clumsily switching gears by trying to make the song also appeal to alternative rockers.

Herod’s For Whom the Gods Would Destroy is the album that Metallica should have made, or maybe even what Metallica would be if the band had begun their career in 2003, during the full blast of the metalcore boom, armed with Master of Puppets and a bunch of Iron Maiden and hardcore records.

Herod’s sound is most basically a metalcore band with a thrash guitar sound. For Whom the Gods Would Destroy leans much harder to the traditional metal side of things, with guitar playing that was popularized in the 80s, and mostly clean vocals. These vocals range from blatant James Hetfield worship to harmonized melodies. It’s not entirely clear whether the harmonizing effect on the singing is used to make up for lack of talent, but the production choice gives the clean singing a less than wonderful plastic veneer. Toward the end of the album, there are some vocals that are not fiddled with, and they sound quite fine.

It is a nice change that Herod have done the inverse of most metalcore bands who split their vocals between screaming bloody murder and simple melodic singing about 80/20. This choice works very well with the excellent music on this record, featuring tasty harmonies and very interesting instrumental details. But when the screaming rolls around, it’s in full force. Herod even pulls off the rage-and-then-not thing that every metal fan’s favorite band to hate failed at. Lars and co., get out a pencil and paper. (8/10)

Thank all the powers that be that Dwell Records moved on to the great record warehouse in the sky. In case you missed it, for a while there – largely because of this particular record label – the market was flooded with CD after CD of utterly useless tributes. The bands being honored were worthy, yes, but the bands playing the covers were ones that even metal fanatics had never heard of. The result was of little benefit to anyone: consumers weren’t very keen on checking out unknown bands based on a single cover song, and such a shoddy product was actually a disservice to the honored band.

Probot has received a lot of press due to its being the pet project of Dave Grohl (Foo Fighters, ex-Nirvana). The premise is this: Grohl apparently grew up listening to a lot of metal, and to honor his favorite bands of yore, he invited vocalists from 11 historically essential acts to perform one track each for this CD. And although there are no proper cover songs, Probot is far more of a fitting tribute album than nearly any that have come out in the metal world.

With that said, Probot does have its shortcomings. Since Grohl had to record with so many different people spread out geographically, it wasn’t possible to develop songs with 11 vocalists (for a full list, visit www.southernlord.com). So the songs were written first, then sent over to the singers, who came up with lyrics and vocal parts. The result is that the songs are pretty simple. Now, they are full, well-produced and hard hitting, but they don’t sound like much a veteran musician like Grohl couldn’t come up with in an a few hours.

We talked to Allan Horrocks of Aquarius Records today, who had some poignant insight to give on Probot. Aside from Eric Wagner (Trouble), the people that Grohl picked to perform on his record aren’t particularly good singers or even talented vocalists. Most of the guys tend to make their vocals follow the songs very closely, which doesn’t do much for the basic nature of the music. Still, it works well for the tracks featuring Cronos, Max Cavalera and Lemmy, but others, like the one with Mike Dean, are much less successful.

Some of the pairings of music and vocalist are odd. The track written for Tom G. Warrior sounds like Grohl is more of an Apollyon Sun fan than a Celtic Frost one (and don’t expect to recognize Warrior being on the song without the lineup sheet). The song written for Lee Dorrian does accentuate his Cathedral persona (although Grohl grew up appreciating Dorrian for his polarly different work with Napalm Death), but it drags on far too long. The remaining tracks fall somewhere in-between as songs that are fun to hear based on who’s in them, but not especially as noteworthy songs.

But despite this list of negative aspects, there is something undeniably special and worthwhile about this record, but ironically it has little to do with the album’s content. Grohl has done the metal world a great service by using his icon status to bridge the gap to popular music fans, who might very well want to check out all the bands that Grohl thinks so highly of (and here’s hoping that the full, commercial version has extensive liner notes detailing who the vocalists are). Or, it could backfire horribly, and no one would think of seeking out records of people who sing on rather generic songs. But we think the first of the two will happen. So we’re giving this album a "very good" mark, based largely on its importance to the success of the metal scene in general, and because the album is just undeniably cool. (7/10)

The Funeral of Being may be the most utterly majestic, desolate, depressive, suicide-inducing black metal album of them all. The guitar and keyboard tones suggest the decaying walls of a monolithic tomb better than any that have come before, and the unearthly shrieks are the only thing you could expect to come out of such a place, and yet are starkly impressive regardless.

If there is any shortcoming to be found on The Funeral of Being, it’s that the two excellent instrumental interludes on the CD are over far too soon, making them feel incomplete and stunted. But the "essential" tag applies to this CD nonetheless, as the unique sound that Xasthur continues to develop becomes deeper, richer and more artistically poignant. Perhaps not as good overall as this band’s Nocturnal Poisoning album, The Funeral of Being should be on any black metal fans’ list. Xasthur's Malefic is dying for his art, won’t you join him? (9/10)

Apparently, Encryption spawned from the ashes of a black metal band, trading in the guitars and drums for a nice set of keyboards to go for a more calm and peaceful approach to the whole musical adventure. The whole image of the band is based around old medieval times of the 16th and 18th century, which may or may not seem gimmicky based on your interest in all things medieval.

The album contains 11 tracks and runs a little over forty minutes. And after a few forty minute listens I can honestly say that this is not my cup of tea, or ale… or, you know, whatever they drank back then. It’s very heavy on what I like to call the "dominus" factor, which basically means that you have choir like crowds chanting Latin throughout the record and a female vocalist going slightly over the top with the whole "whimpering maiden" act on numerous occasions while actual medieval sounding rhythms and melodies are slowly taking form in the background. The booklet is nifty, including a history of something very medieval sounding and some sort of limited screenplay of what the songs are about – basically all that would entice a true AD&D geek.

So without further ado I urge all you wizards, mages and barbarians to hobble on to the store and buy this record and use it as a soundtrack for all your medieval inspired adventures. I’ll stay behind and hold the fort, honest. (5.9/10)

Fun fact: You don’t actually have to read through this review if you want to find out how good this new album is. All you have to do is go to abandoned-places.com and look through the immense photo gallery of Henk van Rensbergen (who besides being a fellow countryman of mine also provided the artwork of this album), the rest will follow naturally. A picture will be painted by your mind, warping all the abandoned hotels, factories and hospitals until not a single recognizable feature is left in the architecture of the damned that Peter Andersson created on Requiem For Abandoned Souls. The title says it all.

For those that need a little bit more convincing I can only say that this new album is filled with such extreme talent and understanding in the ways of the desolate decay that eats away at the very structure of mankind, that the music becomes a pulsating, throbbing entity that comes sobbing out of your speakers only to lament the crumbling states of whatever you are stressed about at that moment. It’s a natural sounding catalyst that merely tries to change something inside of you, the listener with the use of the very lush sounding songs that are presented on this disc. Despite being enticing enough to keep your attention, it’s very easy to wander off and think about whatever you fancy and just pick up a piece of the album here and there, it’s all equally wonderful. The songs are like epic collages of pain mixed with tranquillity, of course mixed with an eerie atmosphere, that goes without saying, but it’s the high quality of the material that pushes the album above the rest.

This is an egregiously misnamed band. There's not thing one on offer here that serves as a forewarning of conflict, despair or misery. Nothing to offer a window of hope that one might escape total devastation and loss. This, my friends, is no premonition. This is total immersion. This is all out war.

There's some seriously brutal damage on offer here. This steps on and over what gets lumped in as metal-core these days. Witness B. Wharton's vocal trappings: no emo soaked refrains here, just pure death metal roar.

The song writing is top notch; intricate swirling chunks of sound that push and pull on an invisible thread, always keeping the perfect counter balance. Twelve songs in 26 minutes, but it seems much longer than that.

Most of the tracks clock in at the 1 ½- to 2-minute range yet boast the muscularity of an epic. The two tracks that do break the five-minute mark are huge. "Black Den" is an elongated bastard of a track offering droney, sustained chords that are bolstered by rolling drums with a kick/snare combo that'll shake the masonry loose. "Cables Hum Overhead" is stunning. Evoking the spectre of Filth/Cop era Swans, it's a grinding bass heavy exercise in aural torture.

Ragged chanting lurks in an industrial backdrop of feedback laden atmosphere and repetitive distorted beats – all the while threatening to rain down under its considerable mass. Relief comes only in the sudden shift to "Citizen," a punishing nest of painfully uncoiled blast beats.

Left in Kowloon is field surgery performed with a buzzsaw by a skilled medic. You won't even feel the first cut. (8.6/10)

review by: Jason Thornberry

The man behind the kit's arms are tired – all three of them. He sounds like Bill Stevenson (Descendents) and Pete Sandoval (Morbid Angel) gave him drum lessons. The other three keep up nicely with lachrymose minor chords and some of the more interesting guitar parts heard recently, which all congeals into actual songs. Songs! Finally, a blast-core combo free of formulas.

"We're not a metal band, and we don't wear bullet belts." Their sound combines different types of heavy music "without expressing the shortcomings of any of them," says guitarist M. Gaytan.

Left in Kowloon will please fans ready to start 2004 with something modern. The pure noise mixed in on tracks like "Cables Hum Overhead" gives the album a less rigid feel than their peers, all of whom should be wary of this young group. (8/10)

Well for fuck's sake, the damned thing has a track titled "Stonersaurus." Really, if it has to be spelled out go sit in the corner and hang your head in abject humiliation.

Oh, all right, already.

Stoner rock with big pointy teeth for your enjoyment here. A little bit groovy, some fast bits thrown in every now and again to keep things interesting, a pinch of good ole doom to keep that buzz humming along.

These guys also know who to pay homage. 16 is a constant reference point. "Born With Frostbite" resurrects the glory that was Acid Bath, right down to the vocals. "Flathead" and "The Locust" have a keen sense of dynamics, ebbing and flowing with abandon. The former has a great moshy mid-section, while the latter boasts double tracked vocals creating a thick, hazy air.

Finally, you'd be hard pressed to find your way out of album closer "70mg," a thick, plodding number that feels like that recurring dream where your legs are filled with lead and the ground has the consistency of syrup.

With and iron grasp of pretty much every aspect of the stoner rock canon, Rue has all the bases covered. Sure, you may be able to see them coming a mile a way. Good luck trying to move before you get flattened. (7/10)

Rush in Rio is a mysterious product. Being aimed to please longtime fans, its compact price might appeal to newcomers, but I urge the latter to avoid it. Here’s why:

This live release, recorded during the 2003 Vapor Trails tour, is an insult to the band’s fans, many of whom were already let down by the Vapor Trails album itself.

It is enough to look at half-apology by the band regarding the sound, which appears on the accompanying booklet of this impressive looking 3-CD set, to know something has gone wrong. Apparently, Rush found it essential to release a separate product containing the audio off their live DVD release, regardless of the poor sound, instead of releasing another live set which was better recorded (or even filming another DVD). Sure, it would have taken a bit more effort to handle another live recording, but it was an effort the fans deserved.

Still, a lot of effort has been made to make this recording listenable, and that is probably why it sounds artificial and out of context. Geddy Lee’s vocals feel tired at places and the band sounds heavy and clumsy. The performance lacks the Rush nuances, those that once made the songs spark; or at least the recording does, as it by no means captures the event.

The Rio concert was held before a large crowd, which is unfortunately audible throughout the recording, overtaking the band, and casting shadow on the music itself. In fact, the whole recording sounds like those really-not-funny TV comedies, on which the crowd’s applause and laughter sound throughout without anything funny going on.

Sure, if you play "Rush in Rio" loud and give it some tries in order to absorb and get used to its sound, it will provide some fun. But was it really necessary? (2.5/10)

A curious one this is. Originally seeing the light of day in 1997, Mirrorworlds not only displays Eucharist's place as one of the refining architects of the Gothenburg Sound, but as progenitors who anticipated the evolution of a number of other bands. Now finding a re-release in late 2003, <Mirrorworlds> serves as a time capsule of sorts.

If you're well versed in Swedish melodic death metal this isn't going to drop your jaw as it would have seven years ago. It does remain relevant though, providing a more than involving listen.

Subtle schizophrenia. If the concept is even conceivable than that's what you'll find on offer here. The album's eight tracks mix in bits of black and thrash in addition to the expected melodic elements, creating a heavy yet decidedly clean sound. Both "The Eucharist" and "Demons" could pass for latter day Immortal, composed while that band was still proving to the world that they were Blizzard Beasts. "Fallen" has echoes of Opeth circa My Arms, Your Hearse, while "Bloodred Stars" has more than a hint of Zyklon, a good four years before World Ov Worms was dropped.

The band wasn't fearful of stepping to the left of the metal arena either. "In Nakedness" intros with a dusty needle on vinyl, the crack and hiss underscoring acoustic guitar and bass, which in turn are propped up by a mournful string of oboe or clarinet lines. It has an ethereal quality that'll put you in the mind of ice-laden mountains and lakes. If the band had stayed together, one can only imagine what Eucharist might have come up with if they had later melded the experimentation of a track like "In Nakedness" into the same furious moments they were more than capable of spitting out.

Mirrorworlds is a proud artifact unveiled to the world once again. Go learn some history. (6.5/10)

East of Eden's third album starts with a full attack on the senses, which leaves you wondering "Is this hard rock? Is it folk? Is it country? Is it prog? What the hell is it?" The fact is that these questions will remain unanswered even after repeated listening of this strange brew.

East of Eden never got the recognition they so rightly deserve. The first album by this UK band, titled Mercator Projected (1969), featured some of the most original dynamics and unusual instruments usage of the time, with a unique Eastern flavor; and was as essential to the progressive rock movement as King Crimson's In The Court of the Crimson King. A year later, the jazzier SNAFU followed, glorifying the band's reputation as experimental, a tag the band tried to shake off in this more accessible 1971 third release, East of Eden.

Celebrating life, East of Eden took the wild violin, saxes and flute that were the band's trademark, but wrapped them in a more straight-forward, rockier package than before; alongside a blistering performance of the traditional rock instruments. The true magic of this album is the way the jams and instrumental passages flow naturally within the well written, concentrated songs they come to serve.

Each instrument (including the vocals) is placed in masterful hands, making it serve as a layer on its own throughout the recording. Moreover, much like in Object Oriented programming, the relations and correlations between the instruments are as important as the instruments themselves, and can be studied with a great deal and care, much in the way that they are played.

The lyrics are generally light and optimistic, pointing the brighter aspects of new days and lost loves, and together with the exciting music this makes the album a great starting point of every fresh day, even for those who will dwell in darker corners later on.

So shake off your gloomy image and give life a chance, or at the very least, give East of Eden one.

Eberhard Weber is one of the key figures recording for the European ECM label. As one who has been with the label from the early 70’s, Weber is one of those who helped define the unique sound of the label that wraps jazz in a more classical influenced or world music setting, giving it an atmospheric feel with plenty of room to breathe.

On this 1982 instrumental album, Weber’s abilities as a composer and a player are again presented at their peak, but it is on this constant peak level that most of his output stands. His bass playing is truly magnificent and instantly recognizable as his own: punching, ringing, colorful, lush and moving; free of any limitations one might come up with regarding the bass as an instrument – Weber makes his bass sing!

As a composer he does not rely solely on his bass playing – he knows not only to create the settings for his playing to shine, but also how to present his ideas in a fully realized form, even if it means other instruments (piano, wind instruments, guitar) play as a focal point.

Later That Evening is darker than some of his other work, but as opposed to a depressing darkness, this is a more contemplative one. The inclusion of a guitar player in the form of the playful Bill Frisell also sets this album apart from other Weber recordings.

The direction of the music is clear right from the opening piece – it is the classic ECM hybrid between jazz and classical music: the rules are basically jazz (though more constructed than what most people imagine jazz as) with a classical setting. This hybrid is what might actually draw the neo-classical metal fans to this work.

The second track, "Death in the Carwash," is Weber at his finest. This disciplined extended piece evolves slowly, but before it leads to any climax, it leads to a stationary state. About this state the piece moves in a harmonic oscillation, trapping the listener while letting him explore the surroundings, before moving on to another state.

The percussions are very restrained, ticking like a time bomb and creating an enduring tension, but never exploding; hence never giving the listener room for relaxation. This leads to an absence of a complete catharsis, even on the moments that seem to be the climaxes – a thing which is essential to the continuation of the piece, both on the listener’s behalf as an interest maintainer; and on the music behalf in order to move on to another stationary state, which at times is actually an expansion of the seemed climax itself. It is as if Weber, by manipulating our feelings towards the climaxes, suggests that the way we view events in our lives and what we derive from them are comparative and not absolute, led by expectations and perhaps even by other surrounding factors that seem to be of less influence to the final picture.

The album continues on an equally high level, with the wilder at times, less tamed collage oriented "Often in the Open," and the calm closing title track.

Later That Evening, besides being a superb effort, is an excellent doorway to the world of ECM, inviting in its dark classical atmosphere and its carefully executed rich ideas and maneuvers, and is highly recommended to any open-minded listener who can absorb it.