Moonsorrow may be a little pristine in sound for the Viking metal genre, but this re-issue that comes in an attractive DVD case with bonus DVD is very pleasing to the ear. A solid charge of black metal underlies a nicely crafted Norse/folk atmosphere.

So fill your tankards, drink to fallen comrades, and while you're at it, get yourself a copy of this. (8.2/10)

The down-tuned, murky and grief-stricken paranoia that has made the best guitarock bands (think Nirvana, Quicksand, Melvins) so memorable gives El Gigante an edge that continues throughout their handbook to failure. That is, until the melodies spring from guitar to voice 55 seconds into the first track and it gets even better than originally thought possible.

In the end, words like "disappoint" or "fail" are the farthest thing from your mind, and you’re left reeling – needing to hear songs like "Star Pupil" or "Albatross" again. This Official guide, with so much depth and feeling, seems to try not to be as catchy as the common cold, but their success is something the band will just have to live with. (10/10)

As always, live records are for fans of the band appearing on the album, and anyone with even a passing interest in Hammerfall’s formula of metal anthems and obsessions with templars will be overjoyed with One Crimson Night. It’s got it all: super crisp, clear production, powerful sound, note for note perfection, and loads of chit chat from the singer in Swedish. Live records this good deserve to be two CD sets. Also features three superb sounding tracks recorded live in Mexico. (8.5/10)

Kronos’ big hook is that Colossal Titan Strife was produced by Kris Belean, the same guy who mixed the excellent album by No Return and godly Goremageddon by Aborted. Any connection at all to that particular record should get any death metal fan excited.

And the production is very fine, but nowhere near as good as Belean’s masterwork. Fittingly, Kronos’ music is also not up to the death metal elite’s snuff. They make a really good go at it, though.

Play any random 15 seconds of Colossal Titan Strife and it’ll blow you away. The speed and precision, the nimbleness of playing, and remarkable stamina and pace. But there is no track on this CD that will be your favorite. They’re all the same thing. A talented band with an excellent producer? Definitely. And a very good record this is, sure to please a great deal of death metal fans. But there is still some wisdom lacking to bridge the gap between intense and impressive death metal playing and great death metal songs. Give ‘em a little more time, but don’t write this album off, either. (6.5/10)

Completely in tune but from another time, Deathwitch bring Terror to your stereo in an effort to revive the sounds of their founding fathers.

The very raw vocals here are pure Bon Scott merged with Chuck Schuldiner. The end of each phrase belongs to Scott, while Schuldiner gets the body of lyrics like those on "Necrosodomizer" or "Coffin Fornicator." "Blood Sucking Fuck" has some excellent old-school thrash touches to it (guitars and drum interplay), and elsewhere this group employs a stream of blast beats ala Repulsion or Morbid Angel.

Is the CD skipping on "Witch of Death"? I don't think so (smiling). In fact, the song has one of the best slow-to-beyond-a-crawl-then-stop endings I've heard on a recording anywhere yet. "Bitchfinder" isn't afraid to open melodically while the singer gargles with the nuts and bolts found on the highway that morning as Deathwitch drove out to record this. But "Worthless Scum" was my favorite, as their continual crescendo is reached in the whirlwind of clipped percussion. Cathartic.

When you see a film of a car exploding and the bent shrapnel flies in slow motion, think of Violence Blasphemy Sodomy, an admirable way to experience 1989 without having to borrow cassettes from your older brother. (9/10)

review by: Jez Andrews

The saga of Just How Much Glen Benton of Deicide Dislikes Jesus Christ continues unhindered by change or subtlety. Sure, the band is tighter than ever, the vocals are evil-er than ever, and the lyrics at least sound pretty unpleasant (can't understand a fucking word), but their formula is so, dare I say, formulaic.

Give the band a new name, a new singer, a new schtick, and put them in the studio and be ready for some truly innovative music. Until then you're stuck with Scars of the Crucifix, yet more "satanic" death metal at about 400 bpm's. (1/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

Wasteform’s interpretation of the death metal style is throttling and encrusted with the kind of gunk that grows between the grout in your shower when left unchecked for a year or two. The absolute star of Ignorance Through Sovereignty is vocalist Greg Kennedy, whose fuzzed out, fucked up, phlegm and beer and bile tainted delivery really heightens the experience of Wasteform being the musical equivalent of the plumber sending his roto-rooter through a clogged pipe.

Backing Kennedy’s unusual sound is a band that makes you love wallowing in the filth that it creates. You can spot the influences pretty easily at times, but there’s something atypical and intriguing in the way Wasteform changes moods throughout the album. And there’s always appreciation around Maelstrom HQ for a weird, creepy ambient outro that would be relaxed if not for the retarded cackling. Check this one out. (7.7/10)

Subtitled "Episode Nine of The Show Must Go Off!," the Vandals fly in with the next installment from a series of shows that Kung Fu Records has brought out recently – the most notable, and best, being comedian Neil Hamburger's installment.

Sweatin' to the Oldies (1992) gets a technologically improved follow-up here with this DVD and bonus CD collection of tracks like "Soccer Mom," "I've Got an Ape Drape," and "The Unseen Tears of the Albacore."

This would be a complete waste of time were it not for the "Freesecam." Drummer Josh Freese is good enough to get his very own DVD option allowing you to simply view him playing the songs, along with a small black and white shot in the corner of his bass drum pedal.

Sure the Vandals are very capable live, and, yes, songs like "Anarchy Burger (Hold The Government)" make for a refreshing dose of humor aimed at punk rock itself. But a superb drummer and some witty lyrics does not a worthy DVD make, and unless you're already a fan of Josh Freese – who's really the lone star of their live shows – then this is difficult to recommend. (4/10)

Even with the CD changer on full nomadic play there is no mistaking the onset of TEOS.

The Evil Operating System is quintessential "metal" but with precision and complexity that will drop your jaw down to the ground and set you hair on fire. This CD packs a punch I can barely recover from.

Strangely enough I met these guys at a computer trade show – the only booth in the place that was manned by guys with long hair and attire beyond the standard khaki pants and baggy logo T-shirt. The most current incarnation of TEOS met at work (straight job is always good – no matter how fabulous the band) in the Philadelphia area where they play regular gigs, are being featured on Philadelphia’s new rock station, WPLY, and are in negotiation with independent record labels for distribution.

The drummer, Steve Delaney, is a mighty beast – a driver of chariots. The band – Adam Lefkowitz and Aaron Barbarics on guitar and Marcus Ferreira on bass are the wild horses creating the fury. I understand that future projects will feature the talents of Clint Arent as the new bassist extraordinaire.

The singer, Eric Rossi, is grand and nimble – the voice of god and the devil wrapped up together in one electrifying "on the fucking money" vocalist. The use of his significant vocal ability is very original – truly the top of his class.

For all its transcendent talent the lyrics are tied to the expressions of earthly pain. They are egocentric and melodramatic. With all the "thank-you moms and dads" and nice stuffy stuff in the credits you might wonder just how BAD things can really be. Still this CD is a great achievement. The cover art and packaging is fabulous. The flaming brand of TEOS on an ancient metal door that has the kind of welds that could give a bridge builder chills.

Keep your eye out for The Evil Operating System – metal with classic style and unsurpassable fury. (9.8/10)

Like the offspring of Sonata Arctica and Stratovarius, Supreme Majesty offer up an enthusiastic dose of melodic power metal. I wouldn't call it altogether original, but it does give off a few sparks of adrenaline here and there.

"Heroes of Out Land" is a nice little pacey number that could work very well on stage with the right kind of live sound. Though quite why they chose a Van Halen technique for the title track is anyone's guess.

Supreme Maesty will definitely appeal to the European festival crowds. The ideas are very ear-friendly, with fantastic production. As mentioned before, there are many elements of 80's stadium rock interwoven with the power metal itself, with shades of Europe creeping in occasionally. The dual guitar soloing in "Cruel Circle" is very impressive, and indeed, the axe work throughout is nothing to be sniffed at.

"Two Against Many" stands out as the best track on the album, but then every track has its own decent qualities. Thumbs up. (7/10)

If there’s anything everyone can agree upon about Primal Fear, it’s that at least the band is consistent. Consistently bad, consistently talented, consistently "metal" – and for that last one, the quotation marks are indispensable.

Look at the evidence. Primal Fear begins its career as a Judas Priest cover band. Then it decides to write album after album of original songs that are really just shadows of Priest tunes. They get members who can all perform their appointed tasks masterfully, but have no artistic merit. They sell a lot of records.

The "whatever" score reflects more than a sarcastic tone. Technically, Devil’s Ground has accomplished everything it set out to. If you love Primal Fear’s back catalog, this one is a no-brainer. If you think Judas Priest is the best band ever and get off on others’ worship of The Metal God, give this album a go. If you think that repeated, shameless copycat-ing of not only a famous band but also ultimately of one’s self is an empty formula, stay far away.

One thing is for sure, Primal Fear is hopeless. The quintessential, all-encompassing moment for this band was when they played Metalfest in 2001. Front man Ralf Scheepers, buffed out and shaven down, announces to the crowd, in all lock-jawed seriousness, that normally the band has a big poster of one of the eagles on their album covers, but that on that day there was no poster. Undaunted, his band would still play the song that they wrote about the eye of that eagle. As Scheepers stood there determinedly pointing at nothing, it showed the nature of the band he stood for: Talented, dorky and clueless – not only to the cognizance of their own joke but to any joke at all. (Whatever/10)

Balboa’s music seems like it was scripted even before it was created. This latest metalcore band has clearly taken inspiration from the likes of Hopesfall and gone nowhere new with it. Each of the eight tracks on Balboa’s debut album has got distorted/clean guitar and vocal parts that are right on cue with whatever unwritten handbook that the pack of metalcore bands are following, and the way the songs run from one track to the next make the record sound like one big mush of average music and punchless, child having a tantrum vocals. Not terrible, but a lot less fun. (5/10)

The band name, album name and cover art may make you smirk, but the truth is that if it weren’t for Dimension Zero’s essential This is Hell, Deathchain’s Deadmeat Disciples would be the best death/thrash album of 2003.

HUGE production that makes every note and drum hit crash through the air with strength and clarity, fierce thrash vocals and ripping musicianship... it’s not about the originality, it’s about the fury, execution and impact – and Deathchain’s got a whole lot of it. Crazed headbangers take note. (8.5/10)

Real or media driven, there was a sort of hush that preceded Into Eternity’s debut album, Dead or Dreaming, heralding it as a triumph in originality and execution. The hype was warranted and the album did turn out to be of interest, but there were still some wrinkles.

Buried in Oblivion, album #2, irons out some of those wrinkles with a very strong showing that is an improvement over the first album in every way. Most importantly, Into Eternity is one of the very few bands that manages to mix a lot of technically difficult styles in a way that holds together uniformly and doesn’t sound like blatant showing off. Insane, noodly guitar parts, fast thrash and death, and delicate breakdowns all come together for the benefit of the songs, and not for the intent of trying to put all those parts together.

The music is excellent and engaging, the songs are intelligently arranged, and the sound is clear as a bell. But Buried in Oblivion still has a few aspects to it that some people might take issue with, and all of them have to do with the production. Obviously, for an album of material this complex and with as many subtleties, clarity of sound is paramount. However, it seems that a good deal of fullness has been sacrificed for this. The drums, guitars and vocals (especially the clean ones) seem to have this less than powerful plastic veneer over them that reduces the weight of the album’s impact. Again, it very well may not be an issue for some, but for those who want an metal album with the production of a metal album, it may not sit entirely well. But the way Into Eternity is progressing, look for album #3 to be essential. For now, it’s "merely" excellent. (7.8/10)

It’s anyone’s guess as to why this band is called Velocity. Maybe there was a mix up at the printers and this album is really by another band. Maybe Velocity is from a really slow, sleepy town in Greece where the band members are like Speedy Gonzales in comparison. Whatever it is, Velocity are not fast.

Velocity is sorta fast punk, the kind that has the same beat almost always and whose riffs just seem to be the same two or three rearranged throughout the course of the album. Stylistically, think Sodom at its punkiest, fronted by a guy barking unintelligibly to all but those who speak Greek, backed by music that seems to be repeated every other track at most. The songs are uninspired and half-baked, often ending a couple minutes after they start and achieving nothing.

Eleftheria (Freedom) does have a good production, but this album is nothing more than the most average punk music available. Black Lotus has put out far better albums (Bullethole, Enshadowed) and far *faster* ones (Enshadowed again). Check those out. Avoid this. (4.5/10)

Please understand that I mean only the utmost respect when I refer to Melechesh as Absu II. Look at the evidence: both bands are way into the roots of their respective ancient, traditional cultures. And both feature the godlike drumming of Proscriptor McGovern, one of the most inspirational and thrilling drummers in metal.

And so it is out of total worship of Absu’s Tara (see our review) that we compare it to Melechesh. This is greatly due to the drum style and the vocals, which, although not (primarily) done by McGovern, sound a great deal like his raspy delivery in his main band.

And if you know where I’m coming from in terms of Absu, think of Melechesh as the Middle Eastern version with tons more groove. You’ll hear lengthy songs filled with lots of meaty riffs that build. The non-drumming members of Melechesh are all of Middle Eastern origin, and thus convey their ancestral pride through their music, whose airs during the metal parts tie in clearly with the musical style of the traditional-sounding track on Sphinx.

Most importantly, Sphinx is a record that you appreciate more with each listen. It seems great at first, better at second, and fantastic at third. Oh, and it’s a big improvement over the band’s Djinn record. Oh, so highly recommended for Absu fans and for any enthusiast of rumbling and aggressive metal with strong ethnic influences. (8.9/10)

Hot on the trail of their last full length, Splatter Tekk, comes the second album from these Czech grinders, again taking their insane mix of old school grind with technical techno a little step further and once again scoring big points. This entire disc is all fun and games. Right from the get go you are treated with the same stuff you heard before but this time with a slightly better production.

Absolutely vile vocals – imagine sticking a pig in a manhole and then throwing rocks at it – almost manage to steal the show, but after the first song (which is over before you know it) and the second, the over active dance bug of the Ahumado boys comes bopping up, making images of fancy rainbow coloured stroboscopes run through your brain. In the confusion, you totally forget to ask why the hell they are using techno again and instead shake your ass to the strange beats.

It does not end there. The entire disc is filled with it AND there are two "tekkno" only tracks included at the end of it; now, personally I think the tracks are awful, but who knows how many of you out there have some guilty pleasures to take care of.

There are a few covers as well, this time around it's a cover from everybody's favourites, Cock and Ball Torture, a Krisiun remake (so says the booklet), and a Disrupt cover. The "King Anus. III" CBT cover works best: they took the heavy as hell grooves of the original song, tamed it down a little, threw it some more "tekkno" and made it their own. On a more funny note, track fourteen ("Sandokal") is a nice parody on the out of place drum exercise that is on the new Morbid Angel... remember the fun and games. The artwork is just like it should be, high-tech mixed with strange "earthy drawings" (a tree wearing a gasmask and spinning some vinyl, you bet ya). It works wonders.

If you are totally turned off by techno and dance parties, then leave this alone. But for anyone who likes his grind with a twist of the dance-bug, you definitely need to pick this up, as well as the rest of Ahumado Granujo’s discography. (7.8/10)

I don't know what it is but I haven't been able to touch the first CD yet of this very limited, two disc package of "atmospheric droneology." It comes in a sleek DVD case (the rest of my collection is having size issues as of now) with lovely green artwork. It's a pleasure to look at and despite its size, works well.

The first disc is filled with the actual studio recordings of this collaboration featuring Chet W. Scott (the mastermind behind Ruhr Hunter), Dan LaRochelle (Eremine Truth) and B.R.A.D. Mowen (Burning Witch). The trio have created something... something that unfortunately I’m unable to comment on. Here's why: I can't for the life of me stop listening to the second disc, which has one 33 minute live track. It's absolutely mind blowing.

I've been slowly getting familiar with Scott's work, the always natural sounding atmospheres he creates are extremely wonderful for my nightly adventures. So I had some idea what to expect, but thanks to the elements the other musicians bring in (guest artists on the live track are credited as Andrew and Arran Mcinnis) the music takes on many different forms. I cannot get enough of it.

This is truly late night music for the wicked: heavy, rumbling brass instruments are slowly being built as foundations when suddenly THE angry, harsh voice pierces through the atmosphere, scaring the living daylights out of everyone in range, then it calms down again... but the voice will return and with it a more violent layer that rises and falls, slow and steady.

For those who truly appreciate true despondent ambience with a violent edge that could kill, go find someone who has this very limited release and kill (mind you, I am a big guy) because this live track is one of the best things I have ever heard. It might be the hypnotizing drones talking here but... no, no I am fully awake and fully aware that this is a masterpiece. You might never hear this in your life, you may hear it tomorrow, but when you do it will change something, if only for 33 minutes. The harsh voice is calling... I’ll have to get back to you on the first disc later. (10/10... for the second disc alone)

These German rockers sure know their game: powerful, memorable hooks; heavily overloaded sweeping rhythm; and fine, confident guitar work relying on fast paced, yet imaginative enough drumming. This is one well-functioning unit.

And thanks to all of the above, the album flows very nicely and manages to maintain focus and interest, with a couple of softer moments towards its end, for the sake of variation.

The vocals blend some classic metal voices – the direct rage of James Hetfield, the high note screaming of Bruce Dickinson, and a bit of Dave Mustaine’s tongue-in-cheek attitude.

The music itself also borrows from Dickinson’s Skunkworks in terms of rawness and directness, but it is more metallic sounding, a la early Metallica.

Despite all these good points, there is still something preventing it from being a highly recommendable record. I blame the incoherent lyrics, which at times are embarrassing even for non- English speakers. Baffled about their intentions and unable to accept their unsynchronized verbal expression, I simply could not relate to the material – even though the hooks did make their way to my head.

To sum things up, Twice Second is a speedy and powerful effort, driven by a crunchy engine-sounding rhythm section and strong melodies; and albeit it does not offer any news and suffers from its own lyrics, it does manage to keep interest throughout. (7.77/10)

Oh, my god, the pain has returned. The throbbing, debilitating pain in my head that clouds all my senses whenever I hear this godawful pathetic excuse for music, this shitness called Estrogenocide.

Sitting through these 14 minutes has been hands down the most horrible experience in my life, even surpassing the last atrocity they had put out (hey, Mr.Sadistic Editor, how come these Estrogenocide CDs keep getting sent to me eh? Eh? Eh?)

This is degrading, retarded, synth driven, pop drivel with ultra stupid lyrics and an overall lack of testicular maturity. A lot of other things can be said about this album too but they won’t be, partly because I'm on the verge of passing out due to excessive puking but also because Estrogenocide don't deserve any more than a 100 word review anyway. Rating: a throw it out of the window before you listen to it /10 (which equates to a -100/10)

editor’s note: We congratulate Estrogenocide for being able to make Abhi, our goregrind and brutal death freak, sick.

To be frank, I was expecting some really lo-fi grind from this "creatively" titled bunch of musicians. And who can blame me? With the zillion Carcass clone bands around that are satisfied with rehashing the same material over and over again just for the sake of being true to their cult idols, the last thing I needed was another band with a blatant rip-off of a Carcass song title as their moniker. But strange things are known to happen in the already bizarre world of grind, and the half an hour of music contained in this CD is a prime example.

This has nothing to do with mindless Carcass worship at all! The song writing skills displayed by these four youngsters is definitely a step above the standard fare, with plenty of interesting riffs – some of them absolutely pummeling like on "Cut My Flesh" – and the tight playing earns them some extra points in my book.

At various points during this album, Genital Grinder appear to be a bit confused about which genre they should be playing, but that may also be one of the main reasons why this sounds so refreshing. They wander from thrashy to melodic death metal territory during some of the four minute songs, and then there are the furious grinding pieces which don't last a full minute. All in all, a pretty good effort from this French quartet, and a good example of why you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. (7.5/10)

I envy Mick Kenney. Not only is he in some of Maelstrom’s favorite metal bands (Anaal Nathrakh, Mistress, and Frost), but he can play all the essential instruments for this type of music, can produce a mean album, and is even a qualified artist. A band member, engineer or designer not working out? Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, dude.

Rewind to Frost’s first (official) album, Cursed Again, the best tribute not featuring cover songs to Mayhem’s De Misteriis Dom Sathanas one could possibly ask for. Building on that success, Talking to God is a big step into a more original creation, while still embodying the essence of Mayhem’s essential work.

The tracks are wrapped up with layers of thickness and fuzz that result in a delivery that is beyond heavy. Overall, the music seems to kick at a pace that is mid-tempo yet plodding, regardless of whether Kenney is playing fast or not. Vocalist The Fog is also finding more of his own voice within this project, all too occasionally going off on some weird, tangential, frantic musing.

Like much of Kenney’s work, Talking to God isn’t the kind of album that will have any of your favorite individual songs on it. In fact, you probably won’t have a favorite song *amongst* the songs on the record. Rather, it’s about the entire conveyance of the album as a whole. And as such, is a curdling, heavy good time. (8/10)

Oxbow is a band from San Francisco, CA. Their biography is a beautiful story of belligerence and random violence, like Chuck Palahniuk re-writing Dickens’ Hard Times. Live, on a good night, they remind you that not all art is artifice. But are they really worthy of the ultimate immortalization in rock: the tour documentary?

I’ll save you the suspense: the answer is yes, yes, and hell yeah. But let’s pretend we’re getting all rhetorical on yo’ ass for a moment. In the spring of 2002, indie filmmaker Christian Anthony set out to document Oxbow’s European tour. Christ knows why. Maybe someone dared him? Maybe he lost a bet to Big Paulie, the Pimp of Polk St? Whatever, this hapless film maker became privy to the deepest, darkest secrets of Oxbowland; and, I’m happy to add, managed to make a kick-ass documentary to boot. Yet, due to ongoing psychological trauma of the most expensive kind, I find it difficult to talk about Music for Adults in any concrete fashion. Here, for you, are my "fragments of a review." Use them wisely:

It all begins with four minutes of viscera-shredding rock, just to make sure no one’s tempted to fast forward. Then a talking head: Mr. Random European, post-Oxbow, "Where does it stop – does it stop?"

No.

(Oxbow singer) Eugene Robinson off stage is not Eugene Robinson on stage. But even off stage, Mr. Robinson is a bit of an enigma; then again, so is the rest of the band. Take Niko Wenner, guitarist extraordinaire: off stage, he’s the kid that always got beat up in school; on stage, guitar strapped on, you know he’ll take the Keith Richards’ mentality to the max and "chop the mother down" who dared to invade his space. But then again, he’s got Eugene to take care of that.

Manuel Libeskind from Splatter promotions has been dealing with Oxbow tours since 1995 and, quite frankly, should have been dead a long time ago. That he can still smile says a lot for the power of the Swiss mentality and the awesome effects of taking E and LSD at the same time.

Just as the film "2001: A Space Odyssey" was conceived as a project that would be both a novel and a film, once you’ve read Oxbow’s tour diaries of the 2002 tour, you’ll be frantically fast-forwarding and rewinding the Oxbow DVD, trying to see if any evidence of Eugene’s multiple assaults has been captured on stage. It has. It’s all funny.

To fully understand the enigma that is Eugene Robinson: even as he’s proudly displaying a pool ball in a sock, proof of his pugilistic present, he’s cradling a PDA/cell phone in his other hand.

Let’s get one thing straight: Robinson is not a confrontational man. It’s us. As the great unwashed, we’re naturally suspicious of a band who seem to mean it, man! as much as Oxbow do. This feeling is dispelled upon witnessing a recalcitrant gig-goer going to the land of Nod via Robinson’s arm on his wind-pipe.

For those of us from the UK, there is a frisson of the insane to see this band playing in the hinterlands of Northern Britain. The band invite a drunken bagpipe player onstage – where the hell did he come from? And why are they appearing before what looks like an ambient techno accordion player?

Dan Adams, Bass Masta, upon driving away from yet another gig: ‘We have all the equipment, right? Maybe?"

There are some particularly excellently filmed gig scenes, and the only frustration from Anthony’s film is that it is often difficult to make out what people are saying, due to the way that the sound was recorded. Sometimes, however, you’re glad you can’t understand exactly what someone is saying. Particularly when it’s Eugene.

It’s always difficult to actually describe Oxbow to people who haven’t experienced them "in the flesh," as it were. "Outsider art" originally referred to people working on the fringes of art. "Art Bas," or raw art, is perhaps a more adapt percept.

Is that venue where Oxbow end up playing in Switzerland (maybe) really The Black Lodge from "Twin Peaks"? If not, can you give that dancing dwarf his curtains back, please?

"We played and we played and we played – and then we stopped playing. And that was Berlin." Niko Wenner.

Go buy it. (8.5/10)

Take it from me, my gentle readers: decadence corrupts the soul. Even though I’m writing this lounging in the opulent pleasure dome that is Maelstrom’s palatial Paris office, I sometimes long for the simple things in life. I mean, come on: who wouldn’t exchange a glass of Muscat and foie gras for a sourdough n’coke from Jack in the Box? Especially as they contain arguably the same net amount of liver?

I’m the same with music. I can only gorge on so much IDM and glitch; the rough delights of guitar, bass n’drums will always beckon to me. So it’s nice to see that Apollo Up! have taken care of my dietary needs for another few weeks. A supergroup of sorts from Nashville, Tennessee, the band members have previously played together (though rarely all at the same time) under a number of different monikers, including Ohio Casualty Group, Shiboleth, School of Accuracy, and Antinova Underground, proving, if nothing else, that the Nashville scene rivals the Hasburgs in the incest stakes. But hang on – does this then mean that Apollo Up! sound like drooling idiots?

Thankfully, no. Apollo Up! jump out of the womb sounding like the best advert for eugenics you’ve never heard (remember, kids: don’t try eugenics at home).

They’ve got the power and precision that characterizes hardcore, but manage to splice this with an ear for a melodic vocal hook and an ability to squeeze an album’s worth of variety into a single two minute song. "Some Kind of Washington" and "Jagged Eisenhower" are particularly enjoyable chunks out of whatever bubbling pot the band stand over when they’re composing; the latter being a good example of how to meld The Edge’s guitar sound of "Boy" with a chorus the size of Bono’s ego.

Light the End and Burn it Through is a quirky, quality piece of guitar music that hits the ground running from the outset and doesn’t pause until the CD stops; one to keep for the summer, as it’ll sound best blasting from your car’s stereo as you’re heading down a highway somewhere. Just try not to buy too much Jack in the Box while you’re at it, eh? (7.5/10)

If you’ve been looking for a suitable alternative to the Polyphonic Spree and the Flaming Lips, take a minute to consider this album. Funked-out music for people who have their heads in the clouds, All Night Radio provide a sound that hearkens back to the world of psychedelica and staying up all night (hence the name). Often this is done to good effect, such as on the second track, "We’re on Our Wave," which eases along, sweeping you up into the curl of its dreaminess.

Sadly, it is hard to keep riding this wave — the next track, "Fall Down 7," is retro-delica taken to the sort of extreme that becomes mediocre. Fear not, brave listener. There are plenty of rewarding tracks here. "Sky Bicycle (You’ve Been Ringing)," returns us to the gentle pulsations of the second track. And by the end final track, "All Night Radio," we are convinced that the Spirit Stereo Frequency is one well worth the insomnia. Bleeps and bloops combine with the drawing out of verses to make you feel like you’re caught in a tunnel, listening to transmissions from a muffled and faraway place. (7/10)

How do you make music that sounds like texture? Somehow, Sabers has done what many others have done, namely, layered noise over hints of rhythm and created an ambient soundscape. The result here is what could serve very well for a soundtrack to a dark indie film, preferably one involving lots of things scurrying down damp hallways, people hiding in corners, perhaps some unpleasant whispering.

Specter is freaky, in that I-have-goosebumps way. Sabers have perfectly captured the sound of wind blowing across a dark plain at night, howling through dusty deserts. Each track blends so seamlessly into the next that it is hard to tell the difference — and this, I am sure is part of the point.

Only very occasionally does volume become elevated, and then it is the scream of a dreamer – filled with terror, but in soon barely audible, and leaving an imprint of fear. This is not music for listening, it is music for experiencing. (6.8/10)

The Mute Sessions is a nice, solid, acoustic album. Markus B’s vocals keep the mood dark, while the brightness of acoustic guitar, bass and drums provides a pleasing contrast. The lyrics are well interpreted, the musicianship is tight; this album can’t really be faulted.

Of particular note is the drivingly rhythmic, "The Nature of Music." The sudden stops during verses couple well with the harmonies of the song; there’s even a mini guitar solo which provides some bluesy atmosphere.

Listening to The Mute Session in toto, however, creates a sense of torpor: you may end up staring into space while feeling a weight closing in on you. But as long as you remember to press "stop," you’ll be fine. Autumn Blaze have crafted an album that embodies the spirit of Februarys. Try listening to this in the spring, the torpor may turn into a slight flutter of spirit. (6.9/10)

Got a weird one here. Harbinger of Metal is doom metal through and through, but with enough "what the fuck" moments to keep everything a bit off kilter. Case in point: "The Ambassador" is a compact, two minute number that should be "Stone Henge, Part II" if Spinal Tap were ever to make a sequel.

Case in point to end all points: "The Wandering Jew," a plodding, 18-minute crawl, contains what might possibly be the most brilliant/retarded stanza of all time:

"He was sent to be saviour
The son of god
Somehow he failed to save
Even his own ass."

Unfettered genius? Judge for yourself. Couple this with the singer's phrasing – melodramatic oration that draws each word and syllable out far longer than necessary – and the result is something both grand and majestic while utterly ridiculous at the same time.

Depending on your predilections, the vocals, plural, may be a stumbling block. Both "The Wandering Jew" and "Strange Horizon" display the same overdone seriousness propagated by the likes of Solstice (UK) or Messiah era Candlemass. Fans of that style may have difficulty with "From The Void," whose vocal track sounds like it was recorded underwater, creating a distinctively creepy and unsettling air. Musically there are no such issues. The three aforementioned tracks all echo early Sabbath in tone and clock in between thirteen to twenty minutes, never in a hurry to get to the endpoint.

Throwing in the occasional organ bit, drum solo (really) and a couple three-minute instrumentals, to mix things up a bit, enables the band to casually switch gears without deviating very far from the deliberate course set for themselves. Credit to Reverend Bizarre too for their cover of Burzum's "Dunkelheit." They slow down the tempo, excise the fuzz of the original, supplant Tom G. Warriorish vocals for Varg's tortured wail and increase the song's length by about half. It comes across as "Burzumy" rather than a cover version. Neat trick. (6.5/10)

Casey Jones wants many things. A time machine to take them back to New York or Washington, DC circa 1982 is surely at the top of the list. They yearn to be tough and empowering. Yet they desire levity and fun. The problem is that when your reach exceeds your grasp it's like buckshot against a barn. Sure you hit the target, but in too wide a space to inflict any significant damage.

Musically, Cro-Mags and Minor Threat are obvious reference points. The tunes fit squarely in the New York hard core or DC straight edge mold: quick and to the point, exuding just the right amount of aggression and energy. But what was fresh twenty years ago isn't going to get the pit roiling today, no matter the amount of enthusiasm behind it.

Lyrically you've got the standard "be yourself, stand tall" canon of self empowerment. However, sprinkling "wacky samples" from the likes of "The Karate Kid" distracts from the message and isn't going to do add much to your toughness cred.

As a meat and potatoes hardcore band, why confuse your audience? Casey Jones proclaims a straight edge bent. Fine. But when you've got songs that decree that there's only one chance in life and you've got to stand up and never back down, etc. how are you going to draw a listener to that message with titles like "Grown Assman"? Using a drawing of Confederate soldiers rising from the dead as an album cover is dubious at best. The fact that the stars and stripes on that flag form an X is an irony that's going to be lost on most everyone.

And a joke rap track nestled within your clean livin' pummeling grooves? Never a good idea. Casey Jones' contribution sounds terrible, is unfunny and a waste of time. Another stab at irony? A piss take? Musical/cultural inclusion? Who cares? (3/10)

Mercy is a significantly human trait. When it was first demonstrated is anyone's guess. Perhaps a Neolithic hunter-gatherer who decided against bashing in the brains of the starving neighbor who tried to steal his dinner marked the first occurrence. Miraculously, through the millennia, it's stuck with us and along with opposable thumbs is what decidedly separates us from other animals.

Sure, there are simulations of it in the animal world. A dog that doesn't rip open the exposed belly of a submissive foe may appear to exhibit mercy, but this really owes more to a victor/vanquished dynamic; the dominant dog isn't thinking, "well, gee, that plump belly's staring me right in the face and while I'd dearly love to make a garland out of his intestines, I think I'll pass because he does have four puppies to feed."

In that scenario, the dominant dog simply has no intrinsic need to go further. Want, desire, malice or longing play no part in the decision. As humans we are forced to think. Or at least try. Coupled with compassion, mercy keeps us viable as a species because we have the capacity, certainly, to act without it. Naturally there are exceptions to the rule. One can sight numerous examples though history when mercy has been in short supply. But there are countless instances where compassion has reared its head. For a grand scale example one could look at a defeated aggressor nation being allowed to rebuild after war's end. Smaller scale might find the cuckolded spouse who resists the urge to inflict pain and finds the space to forgive or reconcile.

We have the ability to acknowledge our foe's weaknesses without obliterating them. We endeavor to understand why another acts in an inappropriate manner. It makes us unique. Human.

And then there are the times when you just have to bring the hammer down. Swan Christy's Julian is absolute shit.

The press release wants you to believe that the album serves as soundtrack music – music for a movie that could never be written because the music is just "too" schizophrenic. If that makes you palpitate for Mr. Bungle type fuckery or the blissful off kilterness of Dillinger Escape Plan, take a few steps way, way back. If this must serve as a soundtrack then let it be used as the sonic backdrop for thirty and forty-something, SUV driving, Starbucks guzzling oxymoronic "compassionate" conservatives looking to branch out from their Dave Matthews albums.

Dissimilar and self consciously weird does not correlate with edgy or good. The album opens with a song that reeks of MTV folk rock crap like Train. From there it veers back and forth flitting about in a feeble attempt to find something that will stick. A Queen rip-off here, a little bit of Mealtloaf there. Throw in a little cabaret music and some faux lite-jazz (that in itself an achievement of unfathomable depths. Amen – Roberto) and a foray into some abjectly pointless turntable scratching just to make the deluge that much more miserable. Execrable vocals and all too obvious progressions exacerbate the feelings of ill will that grow with each song. Only one, "Great Day, Great Day" is barely passable, sounding like a refugee from Ulver's Perdition City. (Those familiar with Ulver will not remember it as one of the band's finer achievements.)

Mercy? Not today. Not for the interloper in this house. (0.2/10)

Cadaveria (the band) should serve as the blueprint for all that's right with women in extreme music. Why? Cadaveria (the woman). For comparative purposes let's focus on Angela Gossow of Arch Enemy. Now Angela can roar, spit, growl and grunt as well as any man in the game, no question about it. The woman's got a set of pipes from the deepest pit, and therein lies the problem: she sounds just like one of the guys. Inclusion is great, there's no reason a woman shouldn't sing in that style, but ultimately the point renders itself useless, a hollow gesture. Angela sings that way because she can, yet she brings nothing to the table that a male singer wouldn't; it might as well be a guy singing.

Cadaveria (band and woman) avoids that pitfall by utilizing her obvious femaleness to great effect. Sure, she can roar like a wounded boar. She can also shriek, employ melody, whisper and flat out sing – without diluting the heaviness of the music underneath. This nuance and shading elevates them up over most of their contemporaries.

There's never time to relax on Far Away From Conformity. Cadaveria's sound is built on a black and death palette with bits culled in from a myriad of styles. When you think you've got a song sussed, you get blindsided by a riff you never saw coming, a time change that shouldn't work but does, or a vocal line that leaves jaw agape. "Eleven Three O Three" incorporates Pantera-like groove until it shifts unexpectedly into a bridge with Cadaveria sounding for all the world like Enya's bad cousin. "Irreverent Elegy" has a Middle Eastern feel that meanders along before veritably exploding into a cacophony of machine gun quick riffing. Likewise, "The Divine Rapture" moves along languorously, plenty of space for the song to stretch, and then you find yourself kicked into a huge, moshy, double-time break.

Cadaveria is at her gothy best on "Omen of Delirium," a witchy, come hither caterwaul that gets pummeled by blast beats into sludge until emerging in an almost folk-like wake. Album closer "Vox of Anti-Time" is full to bursting, each instrument all but tripping over the other, weaving in and out as if casting a hypnotic spell – only to be jerked from that same trance by Cadaveria's punishing invocations.

Far Away From Conformity is difficult to fault. Even a cover of Blondie's "Call Me," while superfluous and distracting, works far better than it should, although it would have better served the album as a whole to use it as a b-side or compilation track.

Just as Cadaveria's first album leapt miles above the specter of her old band, Opera IX, Far Away From Conformity propels the band up to the first tier, kissed by the Cradles and the Dimmus of the world. This is heavy music that possesses a sheen and accessibility to cross over beyond the metal audience alone. (8.5/10)

Like the musical equivalent of the journeyman footballer, Anata is on its third label in as many records. And if this Swedish death metal prodigy is like the metaphorical athlete, then Earache sub-label Wicked World has its eyes on the championship this year.

Technical music works wonders when it is a joy to listen to. Under a Stone With No Inscription is fun and intoxicating first. Anata doesn’t force the listener to notice how crazy their songs are. Rather, it is the listeners choice whether or not to pay attention to the amazing precision, subtle dynamics and mouth watering musicianship on hand. Whatever the choice, Anata makes it always worth it.

Drummer Conny Pettersson is like the Swedish incarnation of Kevin Talley (ex-Dying Fetus). Pettersson shows that there’s nothing like a Swedish blast beat. And in a the most homogenous metal scene on the planet, it’s a credit to say that’s about as far as the Swedish signature goes with Anata.

Under a Stone With No Inscription’s production is perfect. It rattles and rips just right – its heaviness not coming from being artificially pumped up in the studio with thick effects that make all the notes sound the same, nor does it go the other way by making the music seem plastic. The sounds are clear and jump right out at you in 3D.

Most importantly of all, Under a Stone With No Inscription is a grower. It wows at first, but you start really appreciating the individual characteristics of the songs with each passing listen. Pick this album up right away. (9.2/10)

Soilwork has held onto certain elements from its beginnings: impeccable accuracy and instrumentation, great solos, a good, thick, thrash scream from "Speed" (the singer), and a good ear for harmonies in vocal and guitar lines.

The five tracks on The Early Chapters, previously found on tribute albums and Japanese imports (and one previously unreleased live version of "Aardvark Trail"), are no different in these respects. However, Soilwork has a roughness to its sound that is no longer present and an emphasis on elaborate guitar work that isn't emphasized in the group's later albums. Covers of Deep Purple's "Burn" and King Diamond's "Egypt" are also interesting additions that show another side of the band. Though short, I'd recommend The Early Chapters to any fan of Soilwork's other work. For those who aren't into their thrashy sound, I'd suggest you look elsewhere. But this one is good all the way through. (7.5/10)

Though I've been a fan of Impaled Nazarene for years now, I daresay that All That You Fear is the group's best album to date. The band's sound has matured substantially in the past few years; the music is still frenzied, and the lyrics are still chaotic, but Impaled Nazarene has stepped up their war against the rest of the world a few notches.

They've also become more overt in combining their "Nuclear Metal" sound with other influences, such as punk and power metal. The guitar chorus in "Tribulation Hell" is almost identical to Helloween's "Ride the Sky," but it's pulled off masterfully. The group also explored some different lyrical themes in All That You Fear. Along with the band's usual anti-Christian messages of chaos (directed, at least in part, at the political climate in Finland), there's also a heartfelt message in "Suffer in Silence" to the band's late guitarist, Teemu Raimoranta. All of the band's members write songs individually, so there is no real repetition in the sound, but there is a thread of similarity that pulls everything together.

Blistering guitars, precise drumming and rich screaming come together on All That You Fear for some of the most well played and well structured tracks Impaled Nazarene has ever done. (9.5/10)

review by: Jez Andrews

Ravenous doesn't have any work to do on its energy level. Though the band's entire sound could be described as "raspy" or "harsh," the guitars, drums and vocals (mainly high-pitched, throaty screams with insane growls mixed in) are nothing if not intense. Ravenous has a punkish quality to it: simple beats and riffs brought to life by extreme execution. Fast and rough, but entertaining, certainly.

Some of the craziest, demonic movie clips I've ever heard are thrown into the mix to add to the creepy atmosphere. So if you love over-the-top metal and don't care so much about technicality, production or intricate instrumentation, Ravenous just might be for you. Blood Delirium is worth a listen for a good chuckle at its severity, at least. (5.5/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

Bloodred Hell begins with a "Welcome to hell!" and ends with a piercing scream. In between, Facebreaker shows that it knows all the tricks of the death metal genre. Lyrics about rising from chaos, ripping people's souls out, burning in hell and hating god come to the listener in the form of Roberth Karlsson's rich, forceful (and mostly intelligible) growls. Deep guitar riffs occasionally break into Mika Lagren's high-pitched, frantic solos. And Mikael Wassholm, Facebreaker's drummer, really knows his way around a set.

Facebreaker's style is ever changing, as well. Solid groove after solid groove bombards the listener, never exploiting a good thing to the point of tedium or allowing boredom to creep in. Wassholm's drumming is similar in that he never misses a beat or rides one rhythm too long. All this is accentuated by good, sonorous production and the fact that there isn't a weak track anywhere on Bloodred Hell.

That said, Facebreaker, though the band is obviously capable and knowledgeable about the genre they've chosen, isn't doing anything new with this album. There's nothing mind-blowing on Bloodred Hell, just another excellent example of death metal. So for those who just can't get enough of death, this one is definitely worth a listen. And for those who can take the genre or leave it, I suggest you look to the classics like Sepultura or Cannibal Corpse for your fix rather than exploring the world of Facebreaker. For death heads, I give this one a... (7/10)

Despite the dubious name and forgettable CG cover art, Scarve is a damned powerhouse. Formed in 1994 in Nancy, France (say that a few times – it's fun), Scarve has just released Irradiant, the group's third album.

And these guys can wail. Not only is the band's songwriting great, giving each song its own mood and personality, but the musicianship is also excellent. From rhythm guitars to drums to ripping guitar solos, every aspect is top-notch.

One listen to the title track will have you hooked, at least if you enjoy the likes of Meshuggah (Fredrik Thordendal even makes a guest appearance on Irradiant) and other such technical death-grind-thrash stuff. Great production (done by Daniel Bergstrand) and extreme accuracy down to the smallest detail make every impressive nuance stand out. Though Scarve isn't as technically complex as Meshuggah (and who could expect it to be?), the band has a bag of tricks that make Irradiant worth repeated listens. (8.5/10)

Despondency would make a great addition to United Guttural Records. They've got the unintelligible lyrics growled into a cupped mic, the sludgy, deep guitar riffs that don't get too technical but still sound good, and a thudding double-bass pedal that only takes short breaks. The production is muddy enough to blend everything into a kind of mire, but not so bad as to obscure too much.

They've got energy (especially Dirk Janssen on the drums – he gets crazy on this album!), and they've got a fast, dark character. It's good, sludgy death metal. But besides Dirk, there isn't a whole lot to be impressed by on God on Acid. The guitars and vocals are good and chunky but not mind-blowing by any means. It's a good enough listen, though. (6/10)

Armed with a fine, clean yet raw singing vocalist and an experienced guitar player, Tad Morose’s new release is a good blast of pounding rhythms and memorable hooks.

The use of background vocals in a choir-like manner is subtle and in place, and while it does manage to bring Stratovarius to mind, it is free of their pop hints, as well as free of fake progressive movements.

However, Modus Vivendi is far from living up to its promise.

Tad Morose owes a lot to classic metal, but there isn’t a great deal that’s refreshing in their approach or musical ideas. Their use of doom, speedy power-chords and occasional intermittence of the riffs and vocals becomes tired at times, as does is the bashing, unimaginative drums.

It would have also been better if the melodies would have been supplied not solely by the vocals, but also supported by some more melodic guitar work, like on the closing song, "When the Spirit Rules the World."

But the most disturbing thing about this album has little to do with the band’s performance: the production is just too thin! It might be my 21st Century ears that were spoiled by advanced technology, but I cannot stress enough how this overly compressed production just shuts everything down. Sure, an underground sound may be appropriate on some occasions, but these power metal cuts that strive to celebrate and rock in an anthemic manner do not qualify.

One has to raise the volume to soaring heights in order to enjoy the recording, and still, there’s a feeling that much of the nuances the band played in the studio were lost. A congestion control sure would have come in handy!

It is mostly due to its unsuitable production that this album gets a 6/10. I hope Tad Morose will remember this when producing their next album, since Modus Vivendi could have scored about two points higher, depending on how many more details a better production would have revealed. (6/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

Damn. I thought you’d like this one more, Avi. I found Modus Vivendi to be a pretty refreshing, true heavy metal album. The vocals and riffs are quite nice, the songs are put together well, and I can’t remember any of the issues you mentioned about the production. I can also say Modus Vivendi is much better than Tad Morose’s last record, Matters of the Dark (reviewed somewhere in these pages). (7/10)

Buy this DVD for the recorded live show, stay for the bonus documentary. In fact, the documentary is practically worth the price of admission alone. The hour long piece deals with the infamously harrowing recording of Opeth’s two most recent albums, which were immortalized during the same studio session. The camera work and editing are superb, making every shot, cut, and interview poignant and engaging.

Not that there’s anything disappointing about the main event. The live show is two sets worth in length. The first is the "soft" set, featuring the Damnation album in its entirety, plus a soft song from Blackwater Park. The second set is the "hard" set, featuring five tracks primarily from Deliverance.

And that’s the only hint of a gripe any fan could have about this DVD: not enough focus on songs from previous albums. But Lamentations’ purpose is to serve as a celebration of Opeth’s sister album achievement and the notoriety that it has brought them.

Imagine a really big chameleon, say the size of five human beings, with an uncanny ability to make himself not blend in with his surroundings but to make his surroundings blend in with him. Now imagine that chameleon with a big assortment of musical instruments, a great English accent and a handful of brilliant albums. Let’s call him Anathema, and his new album is without a doubt the most stunning work he has done in his entire career.

Opener "Harmonium" slowly swells up and explodes, making way for "Balance," leaving you slightly off balance during the eerie yet soothing vocoded "Closer." Throughout, Anathema takes you on a journey that is filled with soaring heights and deep depressions, with 10 times the lushness than on their previous album, A Fine Day to Exit. And its the lush factor that makes this album so immensely pleasing to listen to, whether you are just looking for some rocking songs or slower more melancholic ones, A Natural Disaster has got it covered.

Two of the album’s most notable highlights come on the latter half of the disc: Lee Douglas’ stealing the show with her beautiful voice on the title track (this time taking the main singing spot), and the instrumental album closer "Violence" that puts you in the eye of a tornado, gently pushing you out into the chaos and then pulling you back in again.

The first part of the disc has the lovely "Are You There" that just revels in its melancholy. And then there’s the thing that Les Smith does best, this time called "Childhood Dream," a very tranquil instrumental that neatly gives the album a rest before it fades into "Pulled Under At 2000 Meters A Second," which is a blindingly fast song with ups and downs that will make you dizzy.

While essentially this record may seem to hold true to the path Anathema took with their last album, I have heard people say that it's too "floaty" to the point that the album is somewhere in the clouds. I can’t find anything objectively bad with such a quality. Buy this album. (9/10)

Sometimes you can be guilty by association in a good way. Take French thrash band Lyzanxia as an example. The young group scores big by getting famed Gothenburg, Sweden producer Fredrik Nordstrom to record their first full-length a couple years ago, and ever since it’s been one comparison to In Flames and Soilwork after another. Unfair comparisons.

Rather, Lyzanxia’s latest album, Mindcrimes, is an excellent work that mixes a bit of the old with a bit of the new. Think Megadeth meets the more modern riffing and guitar tones found on Meshuggah albums. Then factor in more vocal deliveries and angles that you can keep track of. The record opens up with the hard attack of "Time Dealer," but then mellows out to the "soft" version of thrash on "Dusk," and then builds the speed back up again. In today’s thrash metal world, it is fairly uncommon for a band not to be of the mind set to go "metal thrashing mad" at all times, instead varying the tempo, intensity and melodicism, all done with success on Mindcrimes.

The vocal variation works rather well. If anything, it prevents the listener from immediately pigeonholing the record as being a certain way (wish we could say the same about the "new" Destruction, eh?) The delivery of brothers-in-arms David and Franck Potvin is still undergoing some enthusiastic, youthful experimentation that is fun to watch. The two will certainly come more into their own in future records.

Most importantly, Lyzanxia is a fresh band in a fresh scene, and just happens to be already making some damn good material. Mindcrimes has depth and a good treasury of riffs and song ideas, not to mention the Studio Fredman production. Recommended. (7.6/10)

This is my first experience with Harkonen, and if this EP is any indication, I will look forward to hearing more of their recorded output. Harkonen, who hail from Tacoma, Washington, were one of the earlier practitioners of what has come to be known as "mathcore" (see Botch, Knut, and latter-day Converge for reference). In other words, the music consists of a Jesus Lizard-inspired rhythm section that seems to always be in a state of flux, tuneless shouting and bellowing (ala David Yow), and careening, chromatic guitar riffs that seem to be entirely in tune with the aforementioned rhythm section.

While Harkonen creates very busy, frenzied music, they are at their creative best on tracks like the creatively titled "I'm Taking the Hydroplane to Bellingham," which slowly creeps and builds until it reaches a raging crescendo. Fans of the aforementioned bands as well as Shellac and even NoMeansNo would be wise to check this out. (7.7/10)

Fission, Fusion and Things Made of Concrete had three strikes against it before even making into the CD player:

1. The band is called The CafFiends
2. They're labelmates of Casey Jones
3. The mastermind behind the band is named "Nacho"

Diminished expectations sometimes yield unexpected results. What you've got here is a fairly solid exercise in hardcore/metalcore stylings. Nothing terribly original but performed with the requisite enthusiasm and skill raising it slightly above all the other kids playing in that increasingly crowded pool. Add in the occasional melodic undercurrent, some dashes of Gothenburg tinged death metal and repeated referencing to (early) Neurosis and "My War"-era Black Flag, and The CafFiends lift themselves out of the merely pedestrian.

For reasons known only to them, they throw in a fairly straight forward alt-rock number, "Twenty-Three," that has absolutely no right to work as well as it does. Equally unfathomable is a couple of awful lounge/quasi-funk instrumentals. These don't work. At all. The CafFiends yen to experiment is better served by "Velocitation," a one- minute delving into noise for noise's sake. Almost, almost makes up for the Casey Jones album. (5.5/10)

When it comes to good music, Finland is surprising me again and again. After bands so different like Entwine or Kalmah, Evemaster is another one that quickly turned into one of my personal favourites.

Evemaster have been around for some time already with Wither being only their third album in eight years of existence. Wither has an aggressive, melancholic, melodic dark metal feeling to it that makes you want to listen to it again and again. Think of them as Children of Bodom without the excessive keyboard sequences and you get an idea of Evemaster's sound.

A small stain on the otherwise well-composed material is that the songs cannot quite keep the pace set by the initial tracks. Also, the included additional track "Wings of Darkness" of Evemaster's adored band Tarot is well done, but does not really fit to their own material.

It is interesting to note that Evemaster is made up solely of two guys, and that the album was produced with session musicians. Too bad I hadn’t heard of these guys until now, but if the quality of Wither is any indication, hopefully Evemaster’s previous two albums are also treasure troves of synth-supported, catchy riffs. (8/10)

Euphemisms for death as band names. It was only a matter of time before someone named their band Pushing Up Daisies. And although the album cover art, coupled with your urge to imagine this band being like the most popular metaphor-for-death-as-band-name band in aggressive music, Six Feet Under, as some sort of simple, square, heavy stuff, think again.

Pushing Up Daisies is a hardcore band that we cannot resist calling "avant-garde." Weird bleeps, eerie keyboard parts, and increasingly loud electronic loops are but a few elements that push the stylistic envelope. This to go along with some of the most convincing, blood curdling screaming to be heard of anything bearing a "core" tag in 2003.

In the face of hardcore conformity, what is, above all, worthwhile about Pushing Up Daisies is the band’s courage and creativity to not be like everyone else. And we’re not just talking about the wacky electronic stuff. We’re talking about breakdowns, slow parts and segues that are fresh, interesting and highly original, hinting that Pushing Up Daisies is a gripper and then a grower.

We’re having a hell of a time figuring out where this promo has come from. It seems to have snuck in with one of the big envelopes we get from other record labels. So if you want to get this record (and you should) please contact the person at the email address above. You can also download their songs at http://www.hxcmp3.com/Pushing_Up_Daisies(7.8/10)

It’s great to get what you pay for. Take The Gathering’s new record, Sleepy Buildings, as an example. The tag "a semi-acoustic album" is attached to the title, and after the blatant fabrications of Finntroll’s last, "acoustic" album, and true acoustic records that were promising but merely so-so (Autumn Blaze), it’s great to have a disk that tells the truth and is utterly spellbinding.

So in the case of Sleepy Buildings, you get more than what you pay for, and in a great way. With wispy electronics and keyboards coming together with guitars either acoustic or undistorted, and the drums very understated, front woman Anneke Van Giersbergen’s voice is even more beautiful than ever.

It is the highest testament to the quality of this record that we mention as an aside that it is a live record. You won’t be able to notice until you hear the audience’s applause after each song, as Van Giersbergen replies with harsh and terse-sounding "thank you"s. And thankfully, Van Giersbergen’s voice is best suited for singing, which she does with unprecedented delicacy, power and emotion. In terms of comparisons, think Dead Can Dance’s live record, Toward the Within, for an idea of the quality and clarity of sound, except Sleepy Buildings is far more of an emotive experience.

Fans of The Gathering’s latest full-length record, Souvenirs, will be disappointed that no songs off that record (ironically, very well suited for an acoustic representation) are played here. However, what turns out to be the surprise contribution of this record is the way Van Giersbergen’s melodic singing gives old Gathering songs – from the band’s early days when it was a growling, male vocal-fronted doom metal band – new life. When hearing the lush melody of "The Mirror Waters" and "Like Fountains," you’ll be scrambling to dig out your old, dust-covered Gathering recordings, just to remember why they were in that condition to begin with.

Sleepy Buildings again proves to be more than just a live record, with a unique track by the same name. Adherents to Mandylion and Nighttime Birds may be disappointed to hear that collectively, only three songs from those two watermark albums are on this disk. By far, How to Measure a Planet, the record often criticized as being "too melodic," has the most songs, with five. if_then_else has two. But the atmospheric tapestry of quiet loveliness that Sleepy Buildings weaves makes song selection issues an afterthought.

Sleepy Buildings is nothing short of an essential record, not so much as a live album but indeed as any album. No hesitation here. (9.5/10)

Yeah, yet another metal band with a Lord of the Rings inspired name. You know, a lot of major players in the plot of the world’s favorite literary trilogy haven’t been taken yet. Names like Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo and Peter Jackson. A band named Saruman? Seems lame. Pass.

But wait.

Whoa. This album cover’s got some visual issues. Shitty fonts, grainy type, and a color scheme that looks like the pallette after a coffee-shop artist’s portrayal of highway workers’ toiling in the rain. No way this album could be good.

But WAIT.

This, folks, is why we write the reviews, for Saruman’s Ride on the Darkside is one original, stunning and utterly great album. Stylistically, Saruman plays some variation of doom/death, with rich, husky growling and a good amount of slow to mid-paced plodding. But that tells the story about as well as saying that "Lord of the Rings" is about some short guy who goes on a really long hike.

Saruman is all about the strings. Where nearly every metal band’s intention falls flat on its face by using keyboards that synthesize acoustic instruments, Saruman uses the real deal. Loads of violin, cello and some acoustic guitar come in to play on this record. And here’s the best part of that: again, whereas most metal bands that even attempt to introduce something as "exotic" as a cello into their album will do so in the form of some kind of interlude, Saurman’s strings play side-by-side with the electric rhythm guitar. No turn off the amps, play the violin, stop the violin and turn the amps back on again here.

In terms of the playing, imagine the guys from Apocalyptica – the Finnish cello quartet that made their mark by playing Metallica covers – took time off to join an actual metal band.

Sealing the deal is Ride on the Darkside’s sound. From the full-bodied, majestic and timeless sound that *only* non-synthesized acoustic instruments can bring, to the earthy plodding of the drums and square-shouldered nature of the vocals and electric instruments, this album is organic, through and through. And while Saruman hasn’t achieved the ultimate level in sound and tightness, the soul-shaking power of the awesome strings, and not least the sheer refreshment brought by this surprising band makes Ride on the Darkside an essential purchase. Just please consider a name change, huh, guys? (9.1/10)

A three song EP of lo-fi grimness from this French duo. Sounding like it was recorded at the bottom of a well, Belladone has a deep, murky sound that will be sure to please those looking for the most kult of black metal.

All the requisites are here: the somewhat competent musicianship of multi-instrumentalist Kobal, debatably competent drumming courtesy of A (yes, just A), and song structure that relies on repetition, repetition, repetition because god knows a time change might just slam the whole thing to a dead stop.

This milieu works exceeding well on the title track, a dirgey 90-second exercise in atmosphere that meanders along pleasantly enough. In a perfect world, Darvulia would extend this track to twenty minutes and unleash a masterpiece of black drone on an unsuspecting world.

The EP's other two tracks barrel along nicely, "Sorcieres" exhibits an unexpected bit of melody beneath the ubiquitous fuzz. A side note/ gentle suggestion to Monsieur A. There are numerous ways to project evil: brandish a sword, sit menacingly on a throne, lurk in a graveyard, hold a knife to a priest's or nun's throat, glower with malicious intent, wear spikes longer than a baby's forearm on every part of your body, to name more than a few. Wearing a fishnet shirt and gloves while holding a skull in said fishnet gloves and licking said skull as if it's a soft ice cream cone just doesn't make the grade. Just trying to help. (5.5/10)

Everyone seems to be hearing plenty about Damnation these days, but seven albums ago, Opeth burst onto the scene with some of the longest, most melodic songs metal had ever heard. With Orchid, the band introduced its blend of intricate, down-tempo acoustic guitar and piano lines and swinging, Celtic-sounding, distorted rhythms.

The haunting vocals, whether sung or screamed, have always had a light, airy quality and have added volumes to the classic mood of their music. Echoes and other well-placed effects help create a mournful distance in their melodies.

One never knows when an Opeth song is going to end; they almost come in movements – slow to fast, introducing new riffs, solos, rhythms, themes. Orchid may have been Opeth’s first album, but it’s also one of their best, and it set the tone for the albums to come. Some have emphasized the harder and more intense parts, and one of their most recent, Damnation, has swung in the other direction. But no matter what the album, one can always expect darker, moodier melodies and some of the best musicianship around in metal today.

Opeth’s not the fastest or most insane band, but they’ve always made songs into entire experiences with continuous changes, an attention to detail and a great understanding of music in general. If you’ve heard the band’s later albums and enjoyed them, I strongly recommend you take a trip back to Orchid and Morningrise to see just what the band was capable of at such an early stage and even how well it fares against the more recent releases.

Words cannot express the sheer beauty of this recording – the marvelous storming compositions, leading to expressive, avant-garde soloing and exchanging duets that remain focused and in place even at their wildest moments; the saxes, flutes and reeds sing as lovely and poetic as only birds can; the lush, lashing wooden bass, leading as well as supporting; the dynamic percussion work that adds texture, coloring this passionate picture even more vividly.

This is a must have avant-garde jazz recording, instantly accessible and capturing, as well as sophisticated and intriguing.

If this isn’t art, what is?