Spinal Cord proves once again that if it looks like Polish metal, walks like Polish metal, and sounds like Polish metal, then it must be Polish metal. And indeed it is, with all the ruthless aggression and machine-like execution that the death metal world has come to expect from this eastern European country.

And while Spinal Cord’s approach to playing is much like its more famous countrymen’s, their melange of influences is unusual. Equal parts old school death and thrash with some technical mini-breakdowns, the music is given a new school production to give that absurd, "hit you over the head" feel.

The result is that Remedy is a solid, recommendable ride of interesting songs, tasty little chops, and of course the Polish flavor. Cool. (7.3/10)

We LOVED Circle of Dead Children’s most recent album, Human Havest. It was tight and concentrated; a whirling blur of grinding chaos played with the utmost control, propelled by a slick production that only did the whole thing justice. So why are we talking about Human Harvest for an Abaddon Incarnate review? It’s because Dark Crusade, the latest album by these Irish dynamos, is just like Human Harvest’s kid brother.

It’s no knock on Abaddon Incarnate. They’ve succeeded in putting out one hell of a record: sixteen tracks that zip around the entropic sound plane, resulting in a record in which you’re not sure where one track of frantic riffing and breakneck blasting ends and the other begins, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The sound is polished and slick, yet oh, so raw. All this from a band from Ireland, whose scene is woefully underdeveloped. So extra kudos to Abaddon Incarnate for pulling this off.

Compared to Human Harvest, Dark Crusade is a bit more rockin’, so if you enjoyed the former, you’ll love the latter, which is certainly different enough to house them both proudly in your collection. (8.5/10)

We’ve been happy to discover that the worse the cover art is on albums put out by Xtreem Records, the better those albums tend to be. It was true for Verminous, it was true for Wasteform, and it sure as hell is true for Paganizer.

In fact, Paganizer takes the cake. But thanks to the budding Xtreem mystique, whose records f late have been getting better and better, No Divine Rapture is a treat. Very old school death/thrash, played brutally and fast, with vocals that are equal parts Barney Greenway and Bo Summer (Panzerchrist), and with a production that punches you right in the face at every moment. It’s great, rabid fun to get your blood boiling. Check this one out! (7.7/10)

No one could look down on Vidres a la Sang being called the Spanish Aeturnus. This debuting band from Tarrasa, Spain has a great deal of the stuff that those Norwegian stalwarts do so well, namely the constant blur of layered, heavy guitar drone on top of rumbling drums. But this is no clone band, for Vidres a la Sang inject their own flair with elements as practical as higher pitched drums, to more meaningful as more classical heavy metal melody writing.

The result is a 34-minute album of six long songs that unfortunately come to an end far too soon. Give us more! (8/10)

It’s really so captivating when such a huge sound like Inner Wish can overdrive, turn on a dime, cross eight lanes of oncoming traffic and launch into a free fall that everyone in the band rides like second nature.

This is some complex stuff that will take you on a wild ride. Most all the cuts are relentlessly speedy but they sure are right on the money! The vocalist and vocal harmonies are great. The songs are memorable and musical with anthem-like hooks about compelling psycho/spiritual subject matter.

These guys are obviously superior musicians. The music is nimble and creative like jazz – with the ferocity and power of metal. They have the experience to transform themselves on the fly. They move effortlessly between time signatures, and keys. Remember the band Yes? There are shades of Yes and Cheap Trick here. Inner Wish’s furious energy is made daunting and vital by their musical ability. Wondering what is next in the musical arrangements is enough to give you chills of anticipation. Those changes always resolve in a jaw dropping and satisfying speed defying cataclysm. If there is such a thing as a graceful metal band, here they are!

The packaging on Silent Faces is great. The person pictured on the CD cover is in a blindfold that looks like it is becoming transparent. The image is surrounded by the spiral shells we have seen in Renaissance drawings that describe the spacial relationships in sacred geometry. There is a lot going on here with this CD – certainly enough to comfortably take position in the permanent collection. Way cool! (9.3/10)

We simply adored the first Drudkh, the side project of Ukranian black metal frontrunners Hate Forest, calling it one of the few side-projects that actually outdoes its members’ main band. Forgotten Legends, the debut, was a lulling and mystical ride through the last moments of sunset in a pastoral, autumnal setting somewhere forgotten and devoid of human presence. And just when we had a difficult time imagining Drudkh to get much better, here comes the follow up, Autumn Aurora.

Autumn Aurora is thankfully largely in the same style, but whose material comes across as having a wider and more inclusive scope. Clean guitar parts, more varied and organic sounding drums, and different uses of ever-present, underlying drone make this an utter treat that works equally well in a laid-back or active listening setting. Truly one of the best black metal albums this year, and, like Forgotten Legends, certainly one of the best folk/black metal albums of all time. You so need this. I know I do. (9.6/10)

I was excited to get the newest release from these Swedish thrashers, and Carnal Forge didn't disappoint. Fast, aggressive and unrelenting, Aren't You Dead Yet? features energetically driving tracks from start to finish. The album's crisp production allows the quick-fingered and ever-changing guitar lines to really hit and sink in; Stafan Westerberg's drums are also accurate and well-placed, though his lines aren't too astounding. Jonas Kjellgren's throaty, screamed vocals punctuate the instrumentation and intensify the volatile mix.

Particularly energetic songs like "Waiting for Sundown" and "Sacred Flames" sit in the center of the album, serving as a sort of premature climax to the action, but "The Strength of Misery" is a great ending track and picks the mood back up. Besides, none of the tracks would be considered particularly slow by any means, so no energy is lost.

The singular mood of Aren't You Dead Yet? does get a bit tiresome, but there's enough variety within to stave off the feeling of repetitiveness. Different grooves and melodies hit at unexpected times, and the album never gets dull. There are also a couple of enjoyable live video clips that give a taste of the group's new Destroy Live release, and it looks like a good show. (8/10)

This classic group is still playing traditional death, only slower and more groove-oriented. Warkult does see some faster tempos and blistering drumming from Dave Culross, but it certainly isn't to the level of Creation's earlier days.

The combat-themed Warkult does contain some satisfying, brutality-driven anthems such as "Merciless" and "Shock and Awe," where technicality and speed are key; but on the whole, the tracks on Warkult tend to get repetitive and are often less impressive than one would expect from such an accomplished and longstanding group.

However, this isn't to say that Malevolent Creation has lost it. Tradition has something to be said for it in itself, and if you find yourself getting nostalgic for the early-90s' straightforward, growling death, Warkult just might be for you. Some more imagination wouldn't hurt, though. (6.5/10)

As far as low-budget, dirtily produced, just-plain-evil-sounding black metal albums are concerned, this release from Perditor hits the mark. Thick, grimy, haunting guitar melodies soar over maniacally fast drums and aggressive screams. But the ghostly wailing that cuts through the instrumentation does more for the dungeon-like atmosphere than just about anything; they sound like they were recorded in a torture chamber in hell – hollow, painful and quite convincing.

The drums are more death-influenced than the guitars, pounding out rhythmic riffs at breakneck speed, but the guitars sometimes join in for a good groove, and "Empire of the Black" features some decent solos. The guitars' technicality isn't all that impressive, but the mostly simple fast-picked lines and basic grooves do sound good when placed in the midst of the brutal whole. Next time you're feeling particularly demonic, this short-but-good album would be the perfect accent to your corpse paint and claymore. But you'd better jump quickly, because there are only 1000 copies out there. Keep your eyes open for future releases, as well – Perditor will almost certainly have good things to come. (7/10)

In Flames was one of the most prolific and influential metal groups of the 90s, helping to make a name for Sweden in the metal scene with their crushing grooves and melodic style. Soundtrack to Your Escape, though not a bad release, will certainly not head the list of In Flames' classics in the minds of the group's fans. Still progressive, In Flames has drawn some elements from today's more popular trends, but their electronic elements are mostly superficial and unimpressive, and Anders' mix of singing and hardcore screams sound too much like the metalcore vocals that have gained such popularity in the past few years.

Still polished, tight and well-produced, In Flames have hardly failed with Soundtrack to Your Escape; it's just disappointing to keep thinking of how I'd rather be listening to Clayman or Colony. Songs like "The Quiet Place," "Like You Better Dead" and "Bottled" are good in sound and technicality, but many of the songs on the album are formulaic, predictable and hard to tell apart sometimes. This isn't In Flames' best effort, but it's still pretty good. I just hope the band can become a leader once again with its future releases. (6/10)

After listening to this album, one realizes that Six Reasons to Kill and Absidia are a natural match, despite their clear differences. Six Reasons to Kill has a slower, sludgier, more traditional death-inspired sound, while Absidia raises the tempo in the second half and assaults the listener with a thick wash of drums, guitars and throaty screams. Both groups are aggressive and comfortable in their techniques, and the mix makes for a good collaborative album with a metalcore slant.

However, despite a few satisfactory songs, there's not much to go crazy over on Morphology of Fear. Six Reasons to Kill's "In the Name of God" is one of the highlights as well as Absidia's "Reversal of a Broken Hearted," where the group brings one extreme after another. But not even the album's high points are worth listening to more than a few times, and there's nothing you haven't heard done before. In the end, Morphology of Fear is an average and easily forgettable album. (5/10)

It is impressive what Sybreed has done in only a year of existence. Its debut album, Slave Design, is surprising in many respects. The group's mix of progressive, industrial-sounding synths and a growling/singing vocal combination reminiscent of Fear Factory (think Obsolete) with technical, Meshuggah-like guitar lines (Sometimes TOO Meshuggah-like, but, hey, there are worse bands they could be imitating). But Sybreed is still a band all its own.

Technically striking as well as continuously entertaining, Slave Design has some of the crispest, most polished, well thought out and well produced tracks in recent memory, and the same could be said of the album as a whole. Though a bit computer-heavy, all the non-human driven instruments are excellent in quality and placement, and they fit into Sybreed's style flawlessly and without taking attention from the more organic players.

Though many of you may take a listen to this group and dismiss it as more watery nu metal crap, I urge you not to give up on it so easily. Despite the "polished to a blinding sheen" production, some heavy "borrowing" of sounds and techniques you've heard before, and the occasional emotional singing, Sybreed has created a sound of its own that is worthy of a number of listens. The drums aren't disappointing, and Drop's guitars should get you even if Sybreed's image and atmosphere go too far at times. (7.5/10)

Although Internal Bleeding has lost its originator, Chris Pervelis, the group hasn't lost the traditional death metal sound that it was founded on 13 years ago. A variety of sludgy themes and riffs fill Onward to Mecca with an early `90s death metal feel, but the instrumentation is complex enough to compete in today's Swedish-influenced scene.

The music isn't outdated in a negative way; one might say Internal Bleeding is staying "true to its roots" even though the roots have transplanted themselves. Traditionalists will be pleased, at any rate, with the slightly mucky production and the bit of looseness that accents the rhythmic grooves and blast beats, as well as with the deep growls that mix percussively with the instruments.

On the other hand, progress isn't a bad thing. A near-constant 4/4 time signature and a few too many lackluster grooves suggest that Internal Bleeding could use some more time in the practice room. I also don't know what to make of the seemingly anti-Islam messages – a kid with an American flag bandana and a gun on the cover, the title of the album, and song titles like "Infidel," "Hatefuel," "This Day I Fight," and "Intolerance" leave little to the imagination, but I had trouble finding any actual lyrics to confirm suspicions. At any rate, Muslims be warned.

Nothing new in metal, though, to have a little hate speech, and the lyrics are just a wash of throaty growls, for the most part. Some drum and guitar sections are damn accurate and impressive, and make the album worth it. Despite its weaknesses, Onward to Mecca is a good one to check out for you death-heads out there. (7/10)

Burning Skies' debut release is a strong one, and it gives a good idea of what to expect from them in the future. They've got a solid formula and a mix of death and metalcore that should leave listeners of both genres satisfied. A deep, bassy, groove-centric and energetic mix of chunky guitars, double-bass rolls and powerfully screamed vocals, Burning Skies is entertaining as well as (somewhat) technically impressive.

A number of the songs on Murder by Means of Existence do sound alike, and this either says that Burning Skies is unimaginative or that the band already has a strong sense of its identity and musical niche. Either way, more variety wouldn't hurt. But there's lots of crunch and little repetition of themes or rhythms, making the album an enjoyable and worthy one. As far as all the recent death-hardcore hybrids are concerned, I'd place Burning Skies in the top 25 percent. (7/10)

I was looking around and noticed Eldritch is often spoken as a progressive metal band, but I found no proof of that on their new release, which can be described as basic heavy metal. The drum work is loaded with double bass and is quite dominant as a foundation of the music. Unfortunately, though, it sounds quite thin and doesn’t always blend well with the rest of the instruments. Luckily, even though it does not sound as an organic being with the rest, it is performed synchronously with the overdubbed guitars that blend speed metal with hardcore and manage to maintain a good, catchy sense of melody.

The Italians are known for their dramatic performances, and Eldritch’s singer supports that image quite faithfully. Occasionally, he sounds out of line, but otherwise the music is quite well executed.

To sum things up, it is a solid release that might have been better had the production been more firm. Sure, the repeating shticks diminish the value of some of the songs and threaten the tolerability of the whole work, but fortunately, it’s not one of those infinite albums that drag on and on. (I’m referring to the regular edition and hope that the special edition, which includes more tracks, doesn’t make it worse…) (6/10)

Azrael play a very satisfying style of tortured black metal. Misanthropic, cold and hard-hitting, Into Shaows Act II is quite a curious album. Towards the end of the opening track, you can feel twinges of both despair and insanity. I have to admire them for creating their atmosphere so effectively, underlying the harsh riffing with an eerie and occasionally discordant acoustic guitar track. I don't normally associate this kind of sound with American black metal, especially the cunningly interwoven sections of jazzy flamenco and folky cello playing that add to the mystery.

The vocals are fantastic, reminding me vaguely of Nocternity in places. Not one part of this album could be described as "mellow," since even the quieter passages of cello, contra-bass and acoustic guitar contribute to a dark and brutal vibe. The hauntingly reverbed strings in track three take the listener to a very dark place where one dares not close their eyes. Again, this is not something I expect from the American scene. There are no other bands to whom I could compare Azrael, even though I may have heard the general style before. It's not something I could listen to all the time, but in a sense that is proof of how effective it can be. As the album draws to a close, I find myself both undecided an disturbed. (6.8/10)

Dream Theater enthusiastics would probably be pleased to discover the vocal talents of Icycore’s lead vocalist, Valerio Voliani, as it strongly resembles those of James Labrie’s, especially when he’s hanging on to the higher notes. So, I should probably start by warning those that don’t care for Dream Theater, to avoid this album, as it is very Dream Theater-like.

Icycore, however, score a few more points than the average Dream Theater copycat by adding some Fear Factory influences (check out "Watchdog and Virus" and "Chrome" for example) that suit the digital-world vision they try to portray on the album (most likely a "Matrix" influence) quite well. These influences are executed by tender keyboard work that gives this band its unique tint against the distorted, heavy guitar work.

While this album is solid throughout its 68 minutes, the songs, however, fail to make an outlasting impression, and that’s a real shame.

So, if you still crave some Dream-Theater-like material, this is probably a good place to look for it, as this is a well executed album by a band that manages to bring a bit of freshness to a well known and worn imitation. If you already had enough of it, you can pass. (6.5/10)

Well, awright then, we’ve got ourselves a middling 20-minute helping of somewhat technical yet consistently punishing grind flavored death metal. Is it good? Sure. Is it great? No. But if you’re in need of a quick fix of this sort of business you could do far worse than what Killing Theory is flinging your way.

These guys are certainly capable of making a fine racket recalling, if anything, a less mathematically sound Dillinger Escape Plan. All the obligatory components are present: weighty and relentless riffage supported here by a deep, rich bass, unrelenting speed tempered with ample breakdowns, a dash of hardcore, hints of melody, a vocalist who divides his time between cookie monster croak and strangulated wail.

Their not so secret weapon is drummer Danny Ruffino. He sounds like a jazz drummer who’s wandered into the wrong rehearsal space, doesn’t care, and proceeds to beat the living hell out of the kit after discovering the joys of double kick annihilation. If the rest of the band can get on board and indulge in that same stylistic juxtapositioning it would be more than enough to distinguish them from the rest of the pack. (5.5/10)

Long before the Maelstrom project started, there was The Worst in Metal. It was Steppenvvolf and my first attempt at a metal oriented web site. Inspired by our fond appreciation for the hilarity of Immortal band pictures, we decided to dedicate a site to the worst album covers, band photos, and lyrics in the pantheon of all forms metal. We haven't touched it since 2000, but it's still online somewhere.

The crown champion, the worst of the worst, was the album cover to Attack's Destinies of War. It's so incredibly bad that it makes the album (which is very unremarkable German 80s thrash) worth owning. Worth COVETING.

I find myself launched into this bit of nostalgia upon contemplating the cover art to Fireaxe's Victory or Death. It's in league with the Attack cover, but our champion is undefeated. Luckily for Fireaxe's sole member, Brian Voth, while the cover does have a far worse color scheme, the music is a great deal more interesting.

The material on Victory or Death is culled from Voth’s three previous Fireaxe albums, albums which we can only assume were exhausting. The songs on this virtual compilation disk are very long, with five of them being from 8-22 mintues. This would be fine except that the music is very simple and repetetive, so the length of the songs seems like a lot of fat around a bit of lean meat.

Indeed, Fireaxe’s biggest handicap is that it’s a one man band. Voth has more than a few strong points: his vocals, while not the absolute best technically, have strength and drama to them that fit in very well with this kind of rough, melodic and epic metal; the presence of the guitar and the sense of rhythm on the drum machine is also good; and finally, Voth understands what heavy metal sounds like. However, no one is around to help hone Voth’s ideas into a more palatable finished product. The riffs sound "metal," but are in fact very generic and seem, like the rest of the music, to be present mostly to support Voth’s philosophical ideas.

One man bands, like Leviathan, often work out best as their members’ ideas are so singular and uncompromising that the inclusion of others would ruin the whole thing. In other cases, the lack of presence of virtual musical editors or a variety of sources of musical inspiration really hinders what could be. Fireaxe is definitely the latter. However, if you feel that a primitive, demo-stage version of Virgin Steele and Manowar would appeal to you, then copy and paste the url above and contact Fireaxe. (4.6/10)

If all you wanna do is rock in a semi-ironical, detached manner, but scurry into the street when faced with the utter crap the majors are selling you as retro-hip (The Strokes, Jet, etc.), then Teen Wheat is your ticket back on the sidewalk, following the path of the righteous.

Teen Wheat spews a 60’s-ish, garagey bit of geetar rock with a subtle pop sensibility that references early- and mid-eighties college rock (REM, Husker Du, Sonic Youth’s more tuneful moments) force fed a thrice daily helping of Grebo. Yes, GREBO! There’s a vast audience out there – well, alright, at least two people, but they’re both 6’4" – patiently awaiting the long overdue Grebo revival. So if a band from Atlanta can pull the anglicized essence of such luminaries as Crazyhead, Gaye Bikers On Acid, Zodiac Mindwarp and early PWEI out the wind, what’s to stop the rest of the world from following? Nothing, nothing at all. Grebo’s second fifteen minute period of domination is right around the corner. Can you feel it?

Reveries and digression of Grebo dominion aside, vs. Old Wheat is a compact, thirty minute drill that should logically appeal to rock kids, the university crowd and hipsters alike. Each of the ten tracks is a noisy, shambling mess surrounded by rickety scaffolding that barely holds together amidst the chaos. The Sonic Youth influence is most prevalent on "Creole Queen," "White Boat" and "Westworld," where bassist Patrick Hill conjures the tone of Kim Gordon, anchoring each song so that the clever hooks and scraps of melody can peek out from the layers of fuzz and dissonance.

Teen Wheat also has the good sense to know it’s not always about bringing the noise. "Turkish Blend" begins life as a nasty little snarler and then, midway though, transforms the rhythm into an addictive melody line that carries the song to its end. The aforementioned "Westworld" brings to mind The Knack (check out that snare) caught on the wrong side of town after dark; the delicate string arrangement that closes the song functioning either as a sigh of relief or elegy.

It’s simple. Teen Wheat will rock you. No excuses. Grab that denim jacket, and make sure your 501’s have just the right amount of fade. But keep the leather jacket at the ready. A Grebo scented world is on the horizon. (7/10)

This job has few perks. Sure, there’s the three hour liquid lunches and post afternoon cocaine break. Lord knows that the Friday night hooker parties are welcome relief from the daily grind. The fact that the corporate headquarters picks up the tab for these bare necessities is a miracle in this age of lay-offs and forced retirement. Welcome distractions yes, but hardly adequate compensation for the virtuous, some might say selfless, task of expounding on the intrinsic worth of this or that album. It’s tough.

But one does get to keep the CDs, usually complete packages, thus saving a hapless scribe a few bucks that can go towards getting the phone reconnected or making the latest payment on mother’s new wheelchair. The editor though, he is a wily predator. Amongst the jewel cases and digpaks he will surreptitiously insert ghetto versions of promo albums: CDs with cardboard sleeves or little to none of the finished artwork. Oh, the pain.

There are ways to avoid the jackal in the tall grass of the veldt:

"You gave me that album to review? Really? Can’t seem to find it"

"I’ve really got nothing to say about this."

"Look, why can’t you just give it to Ted (not his real name), he’s new and needs the practice."

These evasive maneuvers are often sound but an editor doesn’t notch up 22 confirmed kills by cunning alone. Never discount the pungent balm of luck. Sometimes one of those sad little knock offs magically appears in the office stereo system and it turns out to be good. Really fucking good. Free will dissolves. Something must be said.

Case in, er, point: Stab Wounds, a rollicking hour plus adventure through the black metal netherwoods. Dark Fortress covers all the bases with aplomb. Furious blast beats, incessant double bass, buzzy, mosquito in the ear guitar tactics, accentual piano and keyboard passages, shifting tempos, vocals translated to gargled hiss and slices of melodic doom coalesce in a controlled relentless that never abates.

Dark Fortress is downright grim but skirt the kult/necro issue by virtue of some stellar instrumentation and sharp production. With most of the tracks clocking at the six- to eight-minute range, there’s room for development – where opposing riffs can collide, emerging battered and torn before continuing on their way. No less than the specter of Satyricon wafts though the proceedings, invoking their timing and near unparalleled melding of melodics and brutality. Impressive.

Financial obligations will have to be shifted. Another month of reading by candlelight endured. Mother can suffer with the damn walker. The editor gazes down from his glass walled corner office, gleefully carving notch #23 in his first edition of Roget’s Thesaurus.

Bastard. (7.5/10)

This short album offers a one man electronica act. However, unlike others, this music does not strive for pleasing the pop or trance masses.

Darmock’s music is more atmospheric and spacey than the usual popular electronica, and the music is colored with rather complex, evolving rhythms and without surrendering to the trap of repeated occurrences that are often aimed to catch the adrenalin disco floor junky. Instead, the ideas are developed smoothly and offer intriguing bass lines and electronic sounds, creating an escalating whirlpool while remaining on the minimalist side.

Just imagine a modest, far more relaxed and a far less upbeat version of Prodigy, a version that is less flattering to the ear yet more exciting to the laid-back listener.

Unfortunately, being as short is it is (26 minutes), the two last tracks (especially "Dark Side") leave somewhat of a bad taste, as they are more mainstream targeted, managing to do what the earlier tracks avoided doing (mainly by clinging on repeatedly to the upbeat sections), and by that, they diminish from the integrity and quality of the whole work. (6.5/10)

Funeral Marches and Warsongs’ extra features aren't much and the videos are low-budget (really, different clothes, scenes and more camera angles are the only differentiations between them and the live shows), but the live sections of this DVD are excellent. Well-produced sonically and visually, Marduk found some real professionals to put this one together. The tracks are flawless, like listening to World Funeral on CD, and the shots of the stage and crowd are clearer than you would've seen them had you been at the shows yourself. There isn't a lot of variety in the images or angles, and the presentation is pretty straightforward, but too many frills wouldn't suit Marduk, anyway. A bit more background, like some interviews or backstage shots, would add a lot, but this complaint is a minor one.

If you haven't had the chance to see Marduk live, this DVD gives you a clean, sanitary, smoke and sweat-free fix until the group comes to your area. No DVD can replace the live experience, of course, but they do bring you closer than a CD alone; if you liked World Funeral, the album, you won't be disappointed with the DVD. (7.5/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

I wholeheartedly agree with Matt. However, there are two points that should be raised. One, the two main sets (out of three) represented on Funeral Marches and Warsongs are *exactly* the same. Not even the same songs in a different order, either. Wouldn’t it have been way more cool to give us 20 total songs that weren’t 10 songs played twice?

With that said, this DVD is highly recommended. I used to HATE Marduk, but then along came this little gem, a switch went off in my mind, and now I find myself hunting down all their records. Go figure. (8/10)

I actually wished I hadn’t read the thank-you credits as the CD was loading – but I’ll tell you about that later.

Blissed is a pop metal rock band with some very catchy melodies and uncommonly applied creativity. Some of the arrangements start out just as sweet as pie with the reverent, uplifting vocals gently lilting in satisfying harmonies. Before you know it you are not sure if it’s really the same band or if the CD has skipped. My head twangs as the next cut cues up and explodes – a fierce, angry, piece of growling blowback. Sometimes the diametrically opposed feel is in the same song – ala Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

The drummer, Robert Sweet, is a massive force that consistently opts for the most off-beat interpretation that "on-the beat" will allow. Mostly he is staggering – sometimes it just feels jerky. The band never, ever strays as he travels in the signature and confidently comes in on the up-beat. I want to know which guitar player in the band is the fuzzbox monster that is putting the static electricity in my hair. That’s a big load of fuzzzzz... a veritable sea of fuzz. I really do like many of the sounds this band is capable of but it disturbs me a to have such disparity in the feel of the tunes.

Which brings me to the thank-you credits, which I’ve avoided till now, Seems Blissed is touched by non other than God himself. The band shares some of the line-up from Stryper – the Christian band that brought God to Rock in the late 80’s. It looks like they are still doing it all for God. Even I went to church at some point in my life but it’s a mystery to me how this heavy metal/god connection ever got made in the first place. (Similarly uncomfortable that politics got hooked up with god.) Maybe that’s why this band feels a little schizophrenic. Could it be the devil talking? (6.5/10)

This is clean, well-balanced, technical old school rock/metal. Aesthesia comes from Ohio and has played throughout the south since the 90’s when they released Heavy Metal Thunder. They have continued their career playing local festivals along with releasing Mission Road, their last CD. Their sound is tight, flexible and up on the beat – AC/DC and Rush meet Whitesnake in the grass.

The guitarist, Brian Earley, does what it takes to satisfy the guitar technos thrilled by a little glitzy pyro guitar work. The drummer does the rock-solid down-beat drive with a unique touch that is exciting and driven. They effortlessly toss out some very cool time signature changes that deliver those head banging chills.

The vocalist, John Whatman, has got the grand rock charged voice that cuts over the top of a powerful sound. Aesthesia just flows together with a visceral familiarity and ease. They are varied in their sound, yet consistent in their delivery.

The subject matter of the songs is simple and certainly unadulterated rock and roll. "High Octane," "Drawn to the Flame," Devils Dance," "Raising Hell." I love the name of this band and I would travel to see them play live. Born to rock! (8/10)

In fact, New Testament only includes previously released material re-recorded, and can be taken as a greatest hits renewed package. Unfamiliar with their original versions as I am, I have to base my opinion on the testaments laid before me, and surprisingly, the band manages to sound un-modern, staying loyal to the rough aesthetics that, imprecise as they might be, fit in well with the music.

The opener, "Rising of the Dead," sounds as if it was a draft taken off the Iron Maiden Number of the Beast songbook; "Violence and Force" is more Judas Priest influenced and "Rule with an Iron Fist" presents the Accept influence in full exposure. Yep, highly-amped, thrashing guitars playing rather simple chords, pounding rhythms, scream-ish vocals and banal one-liner choruses are found here in heavy doses.

Having already pointed out the most obvious influences, I can only add that the rest of the tracks balance between them, by tuning the vocals and guitar-work to lean towards one or the other, with not much originality but with a lot of eager, adolescent, brutal force. Obviously, this is for true metal fans only as only they would appreciate this catchy, raging, primitive recording. (5.5/10)

This is a compilation of 14 different bands from the Maryland/Washington DC area. This corner of the world has a 30 year rich doom rock history. The Doom Capital album spans releases from both legends and newcomers.

On first listen I would have said this was all the same band. OK, so sue me – but the guitar sound is virtually identical – slogging around with a titanic-sized electric noodle. Virtually all the tracks are assaults of fuzzy, speedy, anxious, DOOM – all from the Nation’s Capital, Washington DC. It’s a tripped-up mix between speedy drugs and bad hypothetical math equations.

After laboring over the extensive credits I see that many of these guys were/are hanging out – forming and reforming other bands as they continue to play and tour. On second spin I begin to hear differences, if not in guitar sound – in attitude. Something small, like a guitar player with a remote sense of psychedelia (King Valley) or maybe even a little blues influence like Internal Void. Also a newer band featured here called Leviathan AD is the sloggiest assault you can ever imagine. It’s way down into the Slo Mo nitrous wash. Countershaft is uniquely speedy and packs a mechanical punch that impedes digestion.

None of the bands are meant to be musical, really, but they sure do know how to make some NOISE. YEAH.

This is a unique and very professionally packed compilation. (It’s truly unsettling to see the picture of the Capital building on the cover drenched in darkness in front of a blood red sky.) It is a very cool idea, however, to gather these tracks and market them as specific to an area that specializes in a sound. This CD is a good investment for doom metal fans looking to hear a slice of the development of the musical genre.

Thanks to the bands:

Clutch
Earthride
The Hidden Hand
Internal Void
Life Beyond
Nitroseed
Countershaft
War Injun
Black Manta
Leviathan A.D.
King Valley
Carrion
Los Tres Pesados...

It’s not a compilation – it’s a coagulation. (7/10)

For the pitiful few out there who have never heard Entombed – you know who you are – stop reading. Get your shoes on, fire up whatever mode of transportation you’ve got and jet down to your nearest music emporium and obtain Left Hand Path, Clandestine and Wolverine Blues. After absorbing those three prime slabs of goodness you can come back and proceed to paragraph two. Go on now, git.

For the rest of us, hey, it’s another Entombed album. Inferno/Averno adheres to the archetype established over a decade ago with Wolverine Blues: curbstomping, hell-born death n’ roll. As with all of the post-Wolverine albums there’s no marked progression on display here; the band isn’t going to slap you upside the head with a 20-minute epic. But what Entombed do, they do very, very well. Massive death metal scarred riffing placed in the context of straight up rock songs.

That, in a nutshell, is the brilliance of Entombed. Each album’s a 45-minute offering of injurious battering wrought from the underground and then forcibly tempered with song structures that are undeniably catchy. If anyone in Hollywood had an inkling of insight, this would be the music blaring from a jukebox in a scene set in a biker bar right before bottles and fist start flying. Despite this accessibility, Entombed can never, ever be accused of selling out by anyone other than the most die hard fans of the first two albums; they continue to employ a rough, near fuzzy production and L-G Petrov’s brimstone coated vocals alone give them a free pass.

There’s also some sly, self effacing humour brimming to the surface. Song titles such as "Nobodaddy" and "That’s When I Became a Satanist" take the piss out of the very image they’re putting forth. And throwing a track titled "Intermission" into the middle of the commotion that turns out to be just that – and austere and melodic piano piece that sounds like a refugee from a Bergman film – shows a band with tongue wedged securely in cheek.

Entombed don’t need to change or innovate at this point in their history. They’ve got their assault down to a science. And with results akin to Inferno/Averno, the center is in no danger of collapse. (7/10)

You can’t help but cast serious doubts on a band when it decides to have cover songs on the first, and then for the first four of five tracks on its new record. Sure, there are also five new songs (and one remastered demo from way back in the day), but it’s hard to shake the notion that a thing as simple and basic as song order is telling you something about how much Heathen is into their new material.

And it’s not like the covers on Recovered are showstoppers, either. You know how bands will fit a cover song at the end of a record, and often as a bonus track on the fancy-shmancy version of that record only. These tracks are often afterthoughts – a fine of bit of tribute to the band’s influences and a reminder to all of us in the present to not forget the great stuff on albums we own from years past. The bands covered here: Thin Lizzy, Queen, Tygers of Pan Tang, Sweet Savage; are respectfully paid homage to, but there’s nothing about the Heathen versions that’s remarkable.

The original material is decent, but suffers greatly in terms of how dated it sounds. This is of course the most subjective opinion of this review, for if you can’t get enough of 80s style speed/thrash with the production to match, good vocals and perfectly adequate performances all around, then there might be some appeal to buying Recovered. However, any possible sense of nostalgia aside for this band or eras past, there certainly isn’t anything remotely new or even refreshing about this album. (5/10)

It may be a coincidence that Tusk’s Tree of No Return is being simultaneously released by Tortuga Recordings with the new Old Man Gloom record (also in this issue). But we think not. Indeed, Tusk has slices of the flair that Old Man Gloom does so well – in this case, the brick masonry-shattering, heavy sludge drone churn doominess – but played rather off-kilter, like Old Man Gloom were really strung out and fiercely pissed off.

Groggy and rabid, Tusk does all it can to dig deep and find the energy to unleash periodic squalls of blasting music that nearly falls off the table. Then it launches into sections highlighted by vomiting vocals from ghosts that have gotten dangerously sick on too much tequila. Near the end of the record, Tusk start exploring some very interesting atmospheric/psychedelic grooves, but unfortunately, Tree of No Return ends there, with so much gr ound that could have been covered. Why end so soon? Nonetheless, Tree of No Return is a recommendable little album, and if you dig Old Man Gloom, consider picking this up, too. (7/10)

On paper, at least, this one seems a mess; but it works, dammit. Without fail, the destinations of the album’s ten tracks are vastly different from the country from which each departed. Remarkably, each trip is a smooth ride: no awkwardness, no fumbling or groping in the dark for something to hold onto. Matter of fact, as long as you don’t have an aversion to a vocalist who’s a dead ringer for Graham Bonnett, enjoyment of this album is virtually perfunctory for those into the artier aspects of the metal canon.

"Spiritual Flower Bath," a mellifluous goth tinged number, gets dosed and winds up on the receiving end of a prog-infused meltdown complete with flute underpinnings. The flute later resurfaces from the ashes of a melodic doom shamble birthed from the rupture of a trip-hop haze ("Astral My Land"). In "Circle of Psycho Universe," the band forges sturdy riffs that have the potential to crush civilizations into dust; those same riffs soon fold in under their own weight lumbering to the oasis of another proggy mirage amongst the wreckage.

Elsewhere you’ll find a near homage to Slipknot, ("Dark Sensual Nymph") that later throws you into a sea of claustrophobic church organ. And ultimately, in the album’s title track, an anthemic journey that veers back and forth from deliberate to up-tempo; midway through it all disappears in a black hole of electronica, yet manages to emerge later, unscathed, in a rousing finale that peals of victory.

No doubt many will find aspects of From Beyond Thematics melodramatic and overblown, treading a hair’s breadth short of flat out pomposity. A surfeit of commercial sheen only adds to that argument. It’s those very same aspects that should send the rest of the crowd running headlong towards a full embrace. (7.5/10)

Many bands peter out as their career goes on... especially if they put album after album out of the same style. But not Incantation. After 14 years of servitude to the demons of death metal, this benchmark American band releases the excellent Decimate Christendom.

With a heavy dose of the old school, and with just enough modernity to keep things from being stuck in the past, Decimate Christendom provides the bulk of its material in the form of utterly crushing mid-paced riffs spurred on by rumbling drums. Incantation avoid staleness by injecting tasty speedy parts, but it’s the supremely monolithic doom sections that are the biggest winners here. And when the band choose to hold out onimous chords to a droning, foundation crumbling drone, well, that just seals the deal.

The culmination? The sonic equivalent of a massive black pyramid slowly but steadily rumbling forward through a hellish thunderstorm. Throw yourself in front of it’s unstoppable march. (8/10)

Metalcore, metalcore, we love metalcore. Seriously, with the absolute glut of the stuff inundating the market over the last few years you wouldn’t be hard pressed to wonder when the deluge is going to subside; but it just keeps on coming. And much of it so very good. Might as well dive in now, because in half a decade the early 2000’s will be nostalgically remembered as the genre’s halcyon days, guaranteed. Betcha a dollar.

Why do A Jealousy Issue deserve your attention over all the other kids cavorting in the sandbox? No more good reason than the concise 30-minute exercise in punishment presented here. However, A Jealousy Issue do possess a couple of devices that set them a couple of feet to the left of the others. First, a predilection for more deliberate tempos than most of their brethren, bequeathing songs that don’t so much rip your face off as methodically grind it to pulp. Second, an undercurrent of emo tinged longing that invades the music yet never manages to touch the vocals resulting in hyperactive melodic sections uncomfortably buttressed by rasping sore throat wails.

At the very least, A Jealousy Issue should be singled out and lauded for their treatment of what is perhaps metalcore’s most recognizable (and overused) maneuver: the breakdown. Not content with merely employing this holiest of holies, they’ve let loose with a song – "Who Crucified the Chaperone" – that’s one constant, unwavering breakdown from start to finish. A Jealousy Issue have dropped the gauntlet. What next? An album length, one track breakdown? If only… (6.5/10)

Ah, another day, another black, unlabelled cassette from a Swedish metal record label. Dom Dracul’s Genocide in the Name of Satan’s tape itself looks like any other standard issue Transylvanian Hunger knock-off: Songmeister "Therramon" is on the cover in corpse paint and two-tone black and white, giving "the claw" with his hands. Gothic script everywhere, including the phrase "PURE FUCKING EVIL!!! FUCK OFF!!!" on the gate fold. The logo is hand drawn, high school notebook style with upside down crosses and a pentagram. Song titles are things like "Die, Weak Soul," "Allegiance to Satan," "Hellfire" and "Intro."

So, given everything you now know about this Dom Dracul, do you really need a serious record reviewer to tell you what this sounds like? You do!? Oh, COME ON!... Oh, alright. This is like, Swedish raw black metal 'an shit. It's sorta clearly recorded but the drums sound all thwacky and recorded in a basement with one mic. It starts out super moody with a dual guitar harmony thing and then after that it's got a mostly Darkthrone-cum-Motorheadish vibe, which means the dude who sings it has his voice on a really deep reverb, but the music rocks out. And the dude's trying to be like, all blasphemous and super-evil and shit, but just comes out funny cause it's like, "Genocide in the name of SATAN! SATAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHNNNN! BLAAAAWGH!"

But that's cool, I'm not really into genocide, youknowhatimsay'n? I'm just sitting here in the California sun, trying to chill and listening to this tape. If some Swedish dude is feeling all evil 'an shit, I'm open to that kind of "crosscultural expression," or whatever. I like it, I think it's good. It's makes me nod my head and my lips get all kissy faced, so you know that inside I'm getting all super-evil an’ shit, too. Oh yeah, I forgot, it's demo style, 13 minutes. Short and hella sweet, dude! (7/10)

I should know better. After all the albums I've already reviewed, I should, but I still sometimes judge an album by its cover or title. So when Satanic Panic in the Attic graced my desk I thought, "great. Another craptastic album." Because as we all know anybody who has to infer Satan in their title isn't tough, they're posers. Well here I sit, wrong as all hell. Of Montreal is far from Satanic speed metal and definitely not craptastic.

These boys can thank the English new romantics for their sound. Their smooth sounds are reminiscent of the Stone Roses before they imploded under mountains of cocaine. Remember the magic of the Stone Roses' "Waterfall"? Well, listen to "Disconnecting the Dots" and tell me it's not from the same tree. From the Beatles-esque "City Bird" to the groove pop of "Spike the Senses," this album is a must for all of you in love with 80s new wave, Material Issue or Belle and Sebastian. (8/10)

Bands make it tough for themselves when they think that Renaissance Faires make a great concept for an album. Even worse when they set the scene in the future so they can be cutting edge. Well, Kilroy was here, Warriors, and his level three magic is better then yours.

This album is LAME. LAME. LAME. LAME. LAME. LAME. LAME. LAME. But only from a lyrical standpoint.

I still really wasn't too keen on it. Ok, the music is great and guitarist Joe Floyd does some amazing solos, but those lyrics are just horrible. The whole album, with the overall concept being that man is slowly decaying the earth and heading for a Robocop future, just doesn't hold up with such gems as "puppets dancing on the streets, following the master's commands, robots in denial, blinded by the truth," and "chaos is the law, primal need for ruin, desires domination, order an illusion." LAME. LAME. LAME. These guys need to take their 12-sided dice and go back to the drawing board. (Too lame to rate/10)

Insect Song has all the trappings of a dead average album: even after a few listens, it's not bad but nothing in it stands out, either. The music is just fine. The band has a strong sound and singer Shawn Gallagher attacks his lyrics like Halford used to do in the early Judas Priest years. Yet with all that, nothing really jumps out. No song that stands out, no memorable licks or solos. Geez, what more can be said? (5/10)

Dokken used to rock. They were awesome. Beast from the East is one if the best metal albums of the 80s and placed the band on top of the metal heap. But like most bands of that time, some disagreement lead to singer Don Dokken's departure and no new albums for six years.

Don Dokken's solo album, Up From the Ashes, was quite good and had a great version of "All the Young Dudes." George Lynch's project Lynch Mob was even better. Eventually the band reunited for the album Dysfunctional in ‘95, but the title was quite apropos: The album lacked the spark of their early work and was lackluster.

Hell to Pay, Dokken’s latest since 99's Erase the Slate, finds the band at an all time low. The music is disappointing and George Lynch's presence, or lack thereof, is greatly felt. Meanwhile Don Dokken just doesn't seem like, well, Don Dokken. Perhaps age, perhaps the fact that most of the entire original line-up is gone, or perhaps the well's gone dry, but this is a shadow of how great Dokken once was. (3/10)

Let's make this quick. This album is a sheer bore through and through.

Marketing themselves as a dark ambient/metal band in the vein of SUIZID-era Bethlehem and Abruptum (the latter of which are equally silly), Elisabetha does naught but try one’s patience. What is supposed to be frighteningly atmospheric and eerie actually amounts to nothing more than ceaseless repetition and cheesy soundscapes.

In a way this is much akin to bands like Greek masters Necromantia and Italy's own purveyors of bass-driven black metal, Mortuary Drape, Elisabetha uses the bass guitar as a lead instrument, but whereas the aforementioned bands utilize the instrument as a means to make good, interesting black metal, Elisabetha simply uses it as a means of useless repetition. Perhaps they are trying to obtain a mood through repetition, but Godspeed, You Black Emperor! this is not, and the music undergoes no noticeable build in intensity and mood. Instead, it just plods along in a way that increases the yearning for the skip button on my CD player. Avoid. (1/10)

The more time goes by and new albums come out, the more the style that Aaron Turner brings to his multitude of projects becomes a treasure. Turner’s instantly recognizable signature is quietly meditative, massive, shimmering and earthy. It’s like experimental folk music played by a metaller right after sunset and in the woods... with a portable generator.

The last Old Man Gloom (or Glooms, there were two of them... but Seminar II was *the* one) was an utter triumph. It mixed something that you’d begrudgingly call hardcore (think Isis’ flavor here) with some of the most stunning ambient and noise. And what especially worked is how the seams of beauty and atmosphere would spill over onto the tracks with harsh vocals and slamming, deliberate drums, as well as those with noise manipulation.

Christmas isn’t nearly as good, but that’s like saying an armored car isn’t nearly as sturdy as a tank. The formula is largely the same, but it’s gotten ever so slightly more tired since what most probably will be Old Man Gloom’s greatest triumph.

Also, I’m giving up on the "joke." There’s supposed to be one, I think. For sure, it largely has to do with the utterly random, silly monologue about sci-fi soldiers getting miniatures of an archbishop and ashes of the dead in their K-rations (are we talking ketamine, here?) Monologues are almost always completely wasted here at Maelstrom HQ, and this one was old the first time around, got a little more interesting, and then fell right off a-tumbling into negativity.

Here’s a quick placement survey: if you can figure out the joke, you’re either a) a member of Old Man Gloom, b) a hopeless pop culture nerd, or c) a hopeless pop culture nerd who happens to play in the eclectic heavy band Old Man Gloom.

But the good news is you don’t have to be either to enjoy Christmas’ goodness. Soothing and crushing, and soothing even when it’s crushing, this CD is a winner. (8/10)

Burnt by the Sun is nothing short of a boon for all of those who looked too long into the metalcore star. Over-dabbling led to over-saturation and the realization that there was too much redundancy and emptiness to sink one’s teeth into.

But Burnt by the Sun sets things right. They’re *kinda* metalcore, but they outdo just about every metalcore outfit out there by penning some highly tasty licks and instantly catchy arrangements and hooks... like, for those *other* than the people who are absolute metalcore geeks: the kind of people who can instantly tell the difference between Premonitions of War and Martyr AD.

Plus Burnt by the Sun has Dave Witte, which is probably the greatest seal of cult status the band can lay claim to. Witte, from ultra revered grind institution Discordance Axis, brings all the grind/metal goods Burnt by the Sun needs to keep it on the straight and narrow. Witte’s effortless flurries and blast bursts do nothing but help any hooks that the stringed instruments are weaving.

But The Pefect is the Enemy of the Good has a major drag. It seems to have to do with the insufferable lengths that the band goes to let the listener know that it has a message. Ok, now, themes about government conspiracy and the proliferation of the evil Freemasons are fine and good, but spare us the experience of having it rammed down our throats, ok? You get nothing less than this feeling when the last track rolls around. This unbearable thing is more than half the album’s entire length, and consists almost entirely of the Emergency Broadcasting System test noise. After about 20 minutes of that, conspiracy-related sound clips waft in and out, and... well, it’s just too horrible to go on.

This particular track is at the end, and of course there is such a thing as the stop button. But the anticipation of death is worse than death itself. Knowing that after a particular song lies the horrible mess can really hurt the impression of the album as a whole. But maybe not. The Perfect is the Enemy of the Good is chock full of goodness for half an hour, so if you look at it as a half-hour success with a 30-minute blight at the end, you’re in great shape. (7.7/10)

Godus’ Hell Fuck Demon Sound... "Hell SUCK Demon Sound" is more like it. Godus is some sort of lame-ass black metal from Madrid, Spain. The theme is war and nuclear annhilation. The guitar is whatever. The singer has a death grind lilt to his vocals and he overs-sings over every part, including the solos. The drummer is blast happy. The song wrting and riffing is just tired, no drama anywhere. There's nothing iconic that stands out. Ech! This just screams: GENERIC FACELESS METAL BAND.

Usually, when you get these bad metal records there's always one song on the album that's a saving grace, that makes you think, "Oh, this is what actually gave them the energy and push to become a band." That song is here. It's the last one, sorta Celtic Frost-ish and slowed down from the others, I was a little relieved until I realized it was a Darkthrone cover: "Triumphant Gleam."

Fuck Godus, go listen to Darkthrone's Celtic Frost worshipping record Panzerfaust instead, becasue there's realy no need for this BORING shit. There really isn't. (0/10)

Females in metal, let alone the more extreme terrains, remain a rare breed. Stefania Ponzilacqua enters the fray as an all encompassing machine: writing, producing, singing and playing every instrument except drums. Encouraging to be sure but… let’s just say she tries real hard.

On the plus side, she’s got a decent buzz-saw guitar attack and can handle herself quite well when the call to shred is posted. Each of the two songs here isn’t entirely predictable and has some unexpected parts.

On the other hand, the songs are rooted firmly in early 80s thrash/death territory and come across as terribly dated, more tribute than homage. She’s goes for a big sound on each track but is stifled by a flat and lethargic production. A couple suggestions: find a good engineer for the next demo and indulge in some extended immersion in some albums released after, say, 1985. Good luck. (3.5/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

Warning: this is an entirely subjective review. No attempts to feign neutrality here.

I was kinda pumped to get the Eternal Tragedy demo. For one, someone who’s a woman AND Italian was behind the whole thing. And she can play. Chick guitarists and growlers are cool and metal needs more of them. So when Stefania Ponzilacqua turned out to be the Caucasian incarnation of this girl I knew in Japan, well, the endearment went up.

Ok, the sound of the demo was kind of retarded, but not necessarily in a bad way. I mean, allowing that it is a demo, it has promise, and, more importantly, character. It’s intense and well-played. However, Joshua’s comments on the redundancy of the material may very well be fair. Don’t give up, Stefania!

But it turned out that the best thing that ever happened to Crowned in Terror was to be reborn. Ironically, what was supposed to be the album’s biggest marketing point, the vocals of At the Gates’ frontman Tomas Lindberg, was really pretty mediocre. So now, with the vox of The Crown’s original frontman, Johan Lindstrand, brand new bass tracks, and an incredibly re-worked mix, this album smokes.

And it’s not like Crowned in Terror sucked. We liked it, but we basically said in our review of it that: a) the vocals were lackluster (but better than the original vocalist, whom we weren’t particularly impressed with before that) b) it lacked memorability.

What a difference the production makes. The vocals really carry the music, which itself is far more earthy and good, but yet much more clear. Now you don’t even need to pay close attention to hear that this is a killer record. The rightness of it just jumps right out. At first, we were prepared to say that Crowned Unholy was a highly recommended album, but mostly for those who didn’t have Crowned in Terror. But we’re reversing that: you especially should get this if you already have the first version.

And we haven’t even gotten to the bonus DVD yet. And as a bonus it is most fitting to be. The sound is quite good, and it is a very worthy hour in length. But the venue it was shot in (a tiny club in Karlsruhe, Germany), and the proportionally small reaction from the crowd leaves a bit to be desired. Still, the fact that they have three or four camera angles, and that such a good sound was achieved out of this show, says a lot. However, whoever authored the DVD has done us all a disservice by making each chapter begin with the band drinking water after each song and getting ready for the next number, instead of starting the chapters with the band about to launch into another blaster. Frontman Johan Lindstrand’s stage presence and rapport with the audience isn’t exactly awe-inspiring either, so just give us the songs. The DVD would rank in the mid 6/10s.

Get it for the studio album 2.0. (8.5/10)

Blending pure beauty with a sense of adventure and wide open nature, Kenny Wheeler’s Deer Wan settles with the general ECM tone, while managing to be more festive and joyful than usual.

The first lengthy track of this release ("Peace for Five") is a love affair that represents the album’s romantic and exploratory mood well.

Kenny Wheeler’s trumpet and flugelhorn, and Jan Garbarek’s saxophones paint a most attractive lady – lush, beautiful, gentle and inviting, flirting with her subtle, tempting movements.

John Abercrombie’s slick guitar lines, combined with Dave Holland’s muscular bass, manifest a man captured by her invitation – his heart goes out to her and he starts wooing her, occasionally bragging, on Holland’s pure solo section, and at other times surrounding his luscious prey, flattering with gentlemanly gestures, reflected mostly by the guitar’s tender phrases.

When the act of making love arrives, both sides create an unusual harmony that begins at accepted terms, fitting each other on natural and common, yet perfect positions, and gradually evolving into more adventurous, squealing ones (when the instruments play with a tint of avant-garde). All along, their act is a pleasing composition.

Soon after they reach their peaks, their love climates – with fireworks in the form of Jack DeJohnette’s passionate and mesmerizing percussion work. Eventually, they cuddle intimately and smoothly into one entity.

The second track then follows, with additional 12-string guitar player Ralph Towner contributing to a romantic middle-ages scene on which you can imagine a gentleman plays serenades for his shy subject of love. And so the album continues into a dazzling beauty, offering new exotic possibilities and hope for new comfortable mornings.

Deer Wan is an album that portrays love without saying a word. A love in its most genuine and sadly, unpopular form, that seem to have been vanished from this world. We should all admire the fact that there is music that captures this ideal and takes you to truly aspiring heights.

Transmission is a rather rare statement by the gifted Canadian trio The Tea Party. The band’s major label debut, Splendor Solis (1993), was very Led Zeppelin inspired, but even then it was clear these guys had an unusual talent, and by putting emphasis on more extreme sides of Zeppelin and injecting their own vision they created an album of an intense beauty. Transmission, their third full-length release (not counting their rare early album), was different in tone than its predecessors, relying less on classic rock influences.

On Transmission, The Tea Party deals with life’s absurdity and irony, and their fragile vulnerabilities, which were wrapped in furious aggressiveness, reflect well from the music – music that is full of both emotional and atmospheric depths, thanks to the ultra thick drum work, the expressive vocals and the rich musical statements.

It is a work that moves from whispering torture to bursting rage; always sexy in its image, much thanks to the Jim Morrison-like vocal deliverance of Jeff Martin.

While The Tea Party "bring on the brave new world" with their industrial textures and delicate effects, they "cling to the past" by basing their songs on traditional real life guitar, bass, drums, keyboards and endearing melodies. It is what basically sets them apart from other contemporaries like Nine Inch Nails... well, that as well as having remarkable song writing and performing capabilities. The result is probably the most touching industrial rock album ever made.

Furthermore, Transmission, while consistent in its sound and feel, is also impressively varied: the title-track mixes Islamic gestures with a strong Latin foundation (with castanets being part of the splendid percussion work); the percussion-led "Aftermath" has a simple yet hypnotic beauty, and also features, like other tracks ("Psychpomp" for example), electronic phrases a-la Klaus Schulze (an electronic music pioneer), with machines whistling in the background; the brutal out-to-war riff of "Babylon"; and of course, the eastern/oriental influences that exist on other Tea Party albums are here too (check "Army Ants"), delivering a different effect than usual combined with the dark oriented music.

On their following albums The Tea Party made a gradual return to their original eastern-flavored classic hard rock orientation (1999’s Triptych is significantly less dark than Transmission), and that leaves this album as a one-off, brilliant shot.