"The Easiest Way to Fall," Amir Perry’s new release, opens with "Homesick," which places you in a horror movie scene, with diabolic electronica that leads the way to acoustic guitar playing. In a way, its sustained atmosphere brings Van Der Graaf Generator to mind.

But if you expect the album to continue in a similar spirit, you are in for a surprise. The following track introduces a mellow psychedelic rock piece in the style of Porcupine Tree’s late 90’s material (Stupid Dream), and moving along further into this recording you find that it is approached with an increasing pop sensibility until things then get funked-up on "Clean Up Boys!"

On "Smokestack," Perry’s vocal delivery is reminiscent of Danzig’s on "Blackacidevil"; he then mumbles and schemes on "Let’s All Make a Bomb," and continues to flirt with electronica and psychedelia until the closing "The Bad Guy" wraps things up with trance.

Sure, it’s easy to be impressed with Perry’s handling almost everything on the album – vocals, keyboards, sampling, beats, guitars, trumpets and more. However, enjoying this mishmash of musical styles served in one dose (even if it flows quite coherently, as it does) is a different story. It is if Perry is paying tribute to Monty Python’s Flying Circus’ "there’s variety," as he declares, trying to please all and risks ending up with nothing.

In addition to that, the production is dirty, giving the release an underground tint that really doesn’t help to lift the songs into something captivating for the listener; and Perry’s whimsical delivery doesn’t contribute much in this department, either.

Perhaps this album is meant as "music for wild club dancing"... not an exaggeratedly wild assumption considering that Perry is a part-time D.J; and so, this work remains a dynamic, upbeat puzzle... unless you are willing to sink into it heavily and with intents of solving it. Eventually, things begin to clear up and offer a unique perspective of modern day life, but they never reach truly exciting heights – it’s up to you to decide if this recording is worth investing the time needed to get the most out of it. (5/10)

If you've enjoyed recent Amon Amarth releases, chances are you'll also like Fate of Norns. Similar to Versus the World in its vocals, clear production, Viking themes and long, melodious guitar lines, Amon Amarth's new release is a violent epic in CD form. Engaging, well-written lyrics full of imagery paint pictures of Norse gods and feeling the glory of battle, evoking nostalgia for brutal times long past. The full, emotional tones of the music help to bring each song's journey closer to reality.

However, the often slow drumming and plodding guitar lines do get monotonous, and, in contrast to the colorful lyrics, the vocal delivery lacks variety in tone and emphasis. There's not much unexpected to be found in this album, but again, if you've liked Amon Amarth's other recent works, you won't be disappointed by Fate of Norns. (7/10)

Moody, crisp and technical, The War Within is a good example of what Shadows Fall has to offer. As the group's popularity snowballs, one can only hope that Shadows Fall won't start errantly melting and water down its thrashy sound any more than it already is. Because as it stands, the group has a fairly even mixture of impressive solos, tight grooves and a listenability that could appeal to non-metal fans.

Some of the harmonized singing, softer sections and transparent song formulas would turn off many seasoned metal listeners, but Shadows Fall still has a good edge to it in creatively mixing the slow sections with the fast and executing nearly every measure with enviable precision, even the particularly difficult-sounding guitar fingerings and drum fills.

The War Within certainly isn't breaking down any barriers or introducing any new ideas or influences to the metal world, but they do write a pretty good song, and this album has a few of them. (6/10)

Peter Dolving is back with The Haunted for the group's first Century Media release, and he is in fine form. Of course intense screams carry most of the tracks and punctuate the best grooves, but there are some great spoken and sung lines – a good variety of styles for a diverse and distinctive album.

The Haunted is yet another example of why we all need to move to Sweden. The group has only been around since 1998, but already it has firmly established itself as a metal powerhouse, bringing hardcore intensity and raw feeling to technical grooves and well-planned songs. rEVOLVEr is also full of different tempos and moods, which helps keep it interesting.

But most importantly, The Haunted brings it when it comes to sheer force. No matter what the group experiments with in the intros and breaks, it always comes back to the hard, energetic sections that The Haunted does best. Songs like "Abysmal" and "Burnt to a Shell" come in movements – softer intros builds into hard-grooving verses and choruses, then wash back out and come back in with some impressive solos, etc... but always come back to that satisfying crunch that makes you want to jump up and start smashing things.

This band is still innovating, not repeating itself, and coming with force. rEVOLVEr is sure to please. (8.5/10)

Malleus Maleficarum has a raw, unhindered, treble-heavy black metal style and a torture chamber scream so high (Macabre-like, really) it will scare the kiddies on Halloween. It truly does bring to mind the medieval agony helped along during the Inquisition by the book the band has named itself for.

The production is dirty, and the drums are too loud. But the group has reached the hollow, echoing sound a lot of underground black metal bands have aimed for, and the sparseness of it adds a lot to the dark atmosphere. There are no keyboards or anything to that effect, so Malleus Maleficarum must rely on the bare essentials to get the dark mood and intensity across.

Though successful in that regard, the album does get tedious and repetitive. This is the problem a lot of bands fall into: substituting speed for variation, and often they're not even that fast. Though this isn't a terrible release, there is a lot that could be done to improve it, mainly changing sounds and polishing execution. (5.5/10)

The Swedish classic has released its second album after six years' rest, and Fiendish Regression lives up to its name. Deep and aggressive, with roots firmly planted in the soil of classic death, Grave has brought forth a sound like 90s death on steroids.

The group slowly builds on thick, sludgy themes before bringing in the blast beats and quickly fingered grooves and melodies. Ola Lindgren's growls are nestled into the rest of the chunky blend, which grinds and crunches along from one track to the next. This is exactly the stuff that everyone loves to mosh to, but the CD form is also pretty gratifying. Grave has dipped its feet farther into the old school than most death groups' releases as of late, but it's nice to hear the simple formulas of earlier times freshly resurrected without being overproduced or dressed in a bunch of computer effects.

This simplicity can feel like a breath of fresh air, but it can also be seen as dull or unimaginative. I'll take it as the former, because Grave does the stripped-down style especially well. Fiendish Regression should be a welcome release for any fan of straightforward, bad-ass death. (8/10)

On The Amenta's sparse Web site (www.theamenta.com) and on the promotional copy of Occasus, the band's sound is referred to as "Death Black Industrial Noise," "Confronting Music for discerning minds" and "A new in extremism." Actually, these somewhat pompous and unquestionably vague descriptions are pretty close to the truth.

These Australians have hit hard with their full-length debut: They've got varied, percussive, brutal-sounding vocals; there are assorted drum and guitar riffs, from Meshuggah-like grinding to fast-picked melodies more reminiscent of black metal; and, to top it all off, The Amenta has some of the tightest playing and best (in terms of appropriateness, production and dramatic value) atmospheric computer additions of anyone out there.

The blend is a substantial one that doesn't allow the listener to get bored even for a second, and the album's transitions are such that Occasus feels undividable, more than the sum of its parts, a wide-ranging experience that was surely difficult and tedious to make whole and that is best taken that way – an intense soundtrack to a movie of the imagination.

Production-heavy and modern-sounding in every way, metal purists may be turned off by Occasus' progressive, techy sound. But this is no nu metal or imitating, cookie-cutter band with identity issues. The Amenta has the technicality, the musical sense and the raw aggression to succeed, and the group has forged a style like you haven't heard before. (8.5/10)

Diecast hasn't exactly hit the spot with Tearing Down Your Blue Skies. What metal didn't need was another preachy, hardcore-leaning album from a band that really wanted to be taken seriously. But, unfortunately, that was what was delivered: cheesy, overly dramatic vocals mixed with throaty yells, predictable 4/4 riffs and repetitious drumming. Though the production is good, highlighting what rhythmic technicality there is in the guitars, it doesn't bring much satisfaction, as there isn't anything on the album you haven't heard done better somewhere before.

The songs all sound different, and there aren't any tediously recurring sections within them – both small triumphs – but Diecast isn't likely to quench your evil desires with the band's cookie-cutter riffs and whiny messages. (5/10)

"Best of" compilations never give a comprehensive or balanced view of any genre, or even any one group, but they can still be a good listen. And, besides being a strangely timed looked back, The Best of Old-School Black Metal does a good job of skimming some choice groups from black metal's history. Raw, rough energy seems to be the common thread, and selections by Aura Noir, Bathory, Burzum, Mayhem, Venom and the like take a seasoned metal head way back while giving younger fans an idea of where their favorite groups came from. Darkthrone's Fenriz did a damn good job of picking an important but varied group of influential godfathers of black metal. (8/10)

A nice dose of pacey melodic heavy metal can do wonders for the mood, and a blast of Steel Attack's latest first thing in the morning is one way to knock the sleep out of your eyes. Think of a fresh interpretation of Iron Maiden, Iced Earth, and Hammerfall. Although Ronny Hemlin's vocals do sound a little too close to Bruce Dickinson at times...

Enslaved was quick to grow on me, even though I wasn't initially in the right frame of mind. I suppose it's more in the vein of modern power metal given the structure of the riffing, but as for the religious subject matter, it’s hard to make out what kind of standpoint the band are coming from. There is a worrying hint of Christian metal within the lyrics, but these days who can tell?

The songs are well put together and catchy as hell. I was particularly taken with "Immortal Hate," with its colourful guitar rhythms and cutting bass drum sound. It's plain from the first listen that this material would work wonders in a live setting... and yet, it does sound like Steel Attack are trying too hard. Well executed as it is, with cracking production to match, Enslaved sounds a little strained. Not truly outstanding, but it sure as hell doesn't sit in the shadows. (6.8/10)

Fittingly, Stormbringer - Conjuration of the Nighthorde has a picture of a tank rumbling over debris. It’s just right for the rumbling death metal committed to the plastic disk within. And so the recommendation is simple: Throcult is a highly commendable effort of brutal and fast music that also maintains an ever present feeling of ominous darkness. The album has some riffs that you’ll latch on to immediately, like on "Blood of the Enemy," and others that you’ll catch on to as the record becomes more familiar. If you like bands like Incantation, then this is highly recommended. (8/10)

This debut album from NYC electro-classical group Slow Six provides numerous glimpses into the interesting tone arising from classically-trained artists when they plug in and use computers to twist their music to its best advantage.

As with so many purely instrumental works, the three pieces on Private Times in Public Places remind me of a soundtrack, or make me want to write a movie to accompany them. In fact, the visual aspects of music are a part of the group’s performance aesthetic, which includes waves of color and light far more intriguing than the faces of the performers themselves. Even without knowing this, however, you may find yourself listening to this in the background, and suddenly feel yourself drawn into the texture of the music – and you are now standing on a desolate and chilly plain, winds howling about you as you look into the distance for a lost love.

The compositions here follow many of the conventions of classical music, in particular bringing to mind Romantic rhapsodies and tone poems. But the spookiness of traditional instruments filtered through electric wires is unnerving, in the way that simply guitars are not. The cadences are slow, the notes drawn out. If you want a beautiful, tragic world to well up in your mind, give this a few spins. (8.7/10)

Following the best possible traditions of garage-rock and other noisy sounds of the 70s, The Starlite Desperation is a group that played such music before it was hip again. The sound is decidedly gritty and raw, but not in an untutored way. No, these are professionals. From the opening track, "The Thing," to the closer, "Everlasting Crime," you are plunged into an unstoppable rock-out.

A loud, brash rebuttal to the people who say that the 70s-influenced artists out there are just a bunch of poseurs. Even with the EP’s short length, there is enough variety here to keep you interested, even a bit shaken with the intensity. Short and sweet, suitable for waking up the neighbors. (7.8/10)

With their angular post-punk indie rock, Wet Confetti aren’t breaking any new sonic boundaries. But what they do, they do well. Sounding at times like Blonde Redhead, at times like Deerhoof, and in brief seconds not unlike Sonic Youth (though I think this comparison really depends more on the fact that the band is fronted by a guy and a sometimes husky-voiced girl than on the actual sound of the music), Wet Confetti range from rhythmic noise ("Only Accidents," "Mescalero") to the mellow "Where the Sound Hits." The latter of these songs is easily the most melodic on the album, and makes an excellent closing track. While the disc can be a bit more of an intellectual than a visceral pleasure, it is enjoyable, and well worth taking the time to explore. (8/10)

Persephone is breaking new ground not only in terms of being a new band with their first album, but by being probably the first extreme metal band to come from Andorra, a tiny mountain country sandwiched between France and Spain.

Truth Inside the Shades is a solid, encouraging effort played by talented musicians, yet it has all the trappings of a debut. Persephone is still figuring out who they are as a band, and while engaging passages are not lacking, the overall intent and mix of this young band’s formula is still rather scattered. You’ll hear not too disguised Dimmu Borgir in places, and at least a couple extended parts lifted directly, it seems, out of Opeth’s book. The vocals lack confidence. Some songs seem to end too quickly, or have awkward false endings ("The Whistle of Men"), while others go on a bit too long. The production, while certainly not bad, is a little muddy.

Still, the spirited lead guitar, classical airs and myriad buds of greatness present on this album make it a good one. Certainly, Persephone should regard their first studio record as a success, but should by no means rest on their laurels. (6.5/10)

The return of In Battle after a six year gap between studio albums is a somewhat baffling one. Certainly, the band has had a very strong stylistic change, as all hyperspeed, melodic Swedish black metal elements have been junked for an even faster, non-melodic death metal approach. It’s like if In Battle died, lost touch with itself, came back to life re-incarnated, and never got in touch with what was developing over the group’s first two records.

But that’s cool. But what is rather irrespressibly unsettling is how the new In Battle’s music is presented. There’s two kinds of meaning to the term "unbelievable" when applied to extremely demanding musicianship: the reverent and the skeptical. Welcome to the Battlefield evokes the latter. The overall sound is so sterile and antiseptic, most especially in the drums, which are allegedly played by a real person, but for all the world sound like a drum computer. In comparison, the drums on the new Anaal Nathrakh, which openly uses a drum machine, sound more organic.

But if anyone could pull this kind of shit off, it’s the Swedes. The execution is nothing short of marvelous, as the album is a constant barrage of whizzing fingers on the frets and tendinitis-inducing picking and blasting. However, all this intensity and difficulty doesn’t translate into good songs. Welcome to the Battlefield is a self-indulgent workout by wonk death metal musicians who have sacrificed what good they had developed six years ago for a record that’s plastic and just plain dodgy sounding.

It’s hard to call Welcome to the Battlefield a bad or even common album, what with all its precision and how in a sense it is advancing the standard of the genre, but it’s not a joy to listen to. If you’re a blast beat slut, or if to you song writing craft is secondary to pure musicianship, check it out. Better yet, if you haven’t heard the album Rage of the Norsemen, by the same band (believe it or not), get that one instead for a more lasting listening relationship. (6.2/10)

Jorn Lande is one of those metal vocalists who has occupied a special, albeit often unquantifiable, nondescript, and obscure place in metal history. He has lent his strong, ragged voice to Ark, with whom he churned out two albums, their self-titled debut and the incredible Burn the Sun. On the other hand, he has also contributed to several dubious ventures: the utterly tepid Masterplan and the even more ridiculous, Yngwie Malmsteen's Rising Force, to name a few.

This album, which comes complete with ridiculous cover art depicting a preening Lande inexplicably hoisting an American flag (the Euro version has a Norwegian flag), is remarkably more tasteful and restrained than anything else he's done in the past, but bear in mind that this is "progressive" metal (the word "progressive" will hitherto be in quotes as the music is rarely progressive as much as it is regressive), where even the most restrained material makes the wank-o-meter shoot through the roof.

Luckily, Lande has assembled strong musicians (namely drummer Stian Kristoffersen and guitarist Jorn Lofstad) and has crafted a solid 10-song affair that doesn't overstay its welcome as much as it shows off the impressive song writing abilities of Lande himself (if he did, in fact, write all the music itself. There are no songwriting credits in the liner notes).

Of course, it is Lande's own vocal performance that gives the album its identity. Sounding somewhat like a mixture of David Coverdale, Mike Patton, Ronny James Dio, and Bjork (listen to Ark's Burn the Sun album and tell me that he didn't have Whitesnake playing in one ear and the Sugarcubes in the other), Lande isn't afraid to throw such tired cliches as "yeyeah!" or "whoah!!" out whenever he wishes. The production, of the standard "progressive" metal variety, is crisp, heavy, and lush.

For all his faults, namely his retarded lyrics and faux-metal histrionics, I simply can't but give this album a thumbs up, if only for the guilty pleasure of it all. However, if you want a better representation of Jorn's talent combined with that of a group of uber-musicians, check out Ark's fantastic Burn the Sun album, which is easily one of the best albums of its kind. (7.5/10)

Any musical marriage of brutality and meditativeness will go over like gangbusters here at Maelstrom HQ. And Comity fits the bill. This French five-piece roughly fits into the metalcore genre; but by metalcore, we mean the swelling, bursting, blast beat, raging kind. The kind that’s more technical death metal as it is stomping around hardcore. If you love the works of Between the Buried and Me or Premonitions of War, keep reading.

Comity sets itself far above the norm by crafting a record that takes its time despite being chock full of extreme technical workouts. This is in contrast to the ubiquitous hardcore breakdown, which often lacks a shift in energy dynamics. Comity’s work is brilliantly paced, making the drawn-out, indie meets black metal, introspective passages rich with a contented, meditative quality. Indeed, think of Weakling’s classic Dead as Dreams, or the more recent 0 by Transmission 0 for similar experiences.

The black metal comparison doesn’t end there. Many times, Comity’s vocals reach the alien, indiscernible depths of the nether regions of the soul in a way that mirror’s black metal’s finer vocalists. Coupling this with an ominously heavy sound and music that confidently shifts from misty plod to the fury of a dam breaking, this ridiculously titled album is an essential acquisition. (9/10)

The last impression Thee Maldoror Kollective made was one of being the band to turn to if Aborym was nowhere to be found. This metal/electronica/industrial hybrid’s first record was not bad at all, and the follow up was welcomed around here at Maelstrom HQ.

The unfortunate result is a very mediocre record overall. What memories of a black metal presence have been erased for an album that largely plods along lethargically. Utterly dispassionate or campy spoken word clips (taken from what must be assumed are obscure movies) are used in abundance. These clips are often repeated, in a couple cases ad nauseam, and used as rhythmic elements.

A Clockwork Highway seems to be a concept album, which once again is mired in some very murky plot whose presence and focus thereof stands more in the way of the album’s quality than it does aid it. Look, you listen to albums in the hopes of getting good music. If you want a good story, read a book. This album would have been a decent, if average, listen had Thee Maldoror Kollective written songs for the sake of making music, and not tried to hold together some shaky story. Relying heavily on clips that the band probably had no hand in creating, while making music that isn’t brimming with ideas or passion seems problematic.

Our recommendation? If you haven’t already, get Manes’ Vilosophe. The few industrial or spoken word elements on that record blow the entire body of similar elements on A Clockwork Highway right out of the water, and you’ll have an immensely original and enjoyable album to boot. (4/10)

Here we have a documentary DVD about all different aspects of the genre of death metal, made by The Grimoire of Exalted Deeds magazine's Bill Zebub. It's got interviews with many of the top musicians in death metal today, including guys from Immolation, Suffocation, Mortician, Amon Amarth, Malignancy and others, speaking on such topics as participation levels of American fans compared to European fans, the role of the internet in metal today, record companies, the difficulty of finding financial success in this genre, and the "battle" between black metal and death metal.

The interviews are very informative and insightful and show these musicians as more than just musicians – as intelligent, forthright and interesting people. The only questionable inclusion was Peter Steele of Type O Negative. Mr. Zebub must have known death metal fans would find this questionable, since he included a note on the back that states that Steele was "invited to participate because of his contribution to brutal vocals in the Carnivore days," but he seems very out of place in this video and didn't add much except strange stories about himself.

Between interviews are live performances and videos by all the bands who participated in the interviews; the live performances filmed by the film maker, giving it a real bootleg feel. It’s all filmed very well, but the sound in some places leaves something to be desired. This was due to the location of some of the interviews (some with shows or what sounded like parties going on in the background). But all in all it was a great watch, bringing you back to the roots of the genre, making you want to stand on the couch after it’s over and yell, LONG LIVE DEATH METAL!!!!! (7.9/10)

Drawn and Quartered are well-established into the death metal scene, having started out in 1993 Seattle as Plague Bearer and releasing a demo, changing their name and releasing another demo, three albums and an EP. They're not as well known as one might expect for a band who has been around so long and has had this many releases. This is due to the fact that that they've stayed true to their roots. This new album, Return of the Black Death, is no exception to that.

Anyone who liked their 2003 album, Extermination Revelry, will most certainly like this one as well. They're very consistent in their sound, not bending to the changing tastes of today's death metal fans, instead remaining firmly ensconced in the cloak of old school death metal. And yes, this IS old school death metal, with repetitive riffing throughout, a few noodly solos here and there, but with a dash more brutality than the bands of ye olde Florida era and a bit of crossbreeding with old-sounding black metal.

Had this album come out in 1992, it would have been one of the most aggressive and barbarous things you could get your hands on. But this album came out in 2004, the age of brutal death, and its ferocity pales in comparison to that of today's newer bands. The musicianship on the album, however, is spot-on. They play their instruments well, just repetitively. The beginning of each song will raise your eyebrows, especially the first track, "Orgiastic Feast," but by the end your eyes will be heavy and your brain will be hoping the next song will hold some originality or some anomaly in their formula. Fans of the old school and die-hard D&Q fans... enjoy; fans of today's brutal death... not so much. (4.8/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

Skelletona’s points are all valid, but I found Return of the Black Death to be rife with raging, infectious energy and married to an immense production. Indeed, it’s the same flavor all the way through, but I’d recommend death metal fans with an appreciation for the old school to check it out. (7/10)

Note the umlauts. The anarchy symbol. The pentagram. It sounds as sloppy as the looks of the logo and the band members’ eyes, suggesting that the album title refers to the state in which the album was recorded. The biggest irony is that although one song is about being metal, no one wanting metal will like this. But then again, if you like the aesthetic, you’ll get what you want. (2.5/10)

Sands of Time is a horribly derivative metalcore album whose music goes nowhere. The watered down compositions are made up entirely of what seems to be held out chords. The production is quite well done, but there’s nothing even casual listeners won’t have heard before. But still, what do we know? Bands like Full Blown Chaos seem to have some demand, so if you like bands like that, get this. (3/10)

When a reliable friend of mine described Dio’s latest release as "brilliant," mentioning that "the songwriting is easily the best since the first three albums," I raised my expectations accordingly, while still trying to hang on to reality.

Dio had its share of mediocre output through the years, though there were quite a few gems and even risky, edgier attempts (Strange Highways) through the years.

Then, when Master of the Moon finally arrived my door, it was indeed a thrill; and while I don’t really find the song-writing better than, lets say, Lock up the Wolves, it’s definitely on par with Dio’s better output and it is wrapped in an instant classic sound which makes it capture old-school fans’ hearts on the spot.

The vocal performance is sharp, not only in tone and range, but also, even more surprising, in delivery. Dio, after decades of performing, still delivers his songs with that unique flare, purposeful and heart-shaking – once again proving himself as one of the best rock singers ever.

Truth be told, there’s not much exploration on this release, unless the AC/DC Back in Black quote on "The End Of The World" counts; but then again, Dio never needed to explore too far in order to convey his immediately recognizable adventures, dominated by his usual motives that include the forces of nature and outcast, border-characters. In fact, Ronnie James Dio is one of the few songwriters that can supply fantasy lyrics without sounding ridiculous; perhaps it is because he always kept roots on the ground, projecting the mythical stories and his motives in real life.

And as the album is a Dio classic in its nature, with some of the songs (such as "The Man Who Would Be King" and "In Dreams") touching semi-epic qualities with their varying phases and both melodic and rhythmical phrases, while others, like "One More for the Road", offer a fast-paced momentum; its problem is also Dio’s classic problem, as manifested even in the earlier days of Dream Evil – it is the lack of ultra-enthusiasm from some of his supporters. You just can’t compare Master of the Moon to Holy Diver material (much less Rainbow or Black Sabbath albums featuring Ronnie James Dio) in terms of the energy and sparks the players give out of themselves, without preliminary warning.

Jeff Pilson does add a deep low-end to the mix, but some of the mid-tempo songs here do beg for a unique, unexpected outburst from guitarist Craig Goldy (who does give some of his most impressive playing here) or a thrashy drums attack from Simon Wright. It sure makes you long for the days of Vivian Campbell and Vinny Appice.

Luckily enough, the problem's affect is diminished by the quality of the songs and their structured dynamics, making Master of the Moon a welcomed addition to every Dio fan’s collection, and a delicious, bound to be classic, effort by one of rock’s most consistent performers, not to mention a proof that Rock 'n' Roll lives long. (8.5/10)

This, my friends, is what death metal is all about. The adrenaline pouring into your system, making your heart pound as you hear a great new album for the very first time.

Here once again we have a "supergroup." It's always fun to sit and try to put together our own imaginary supergroups: this vocalist would go great with that guitarist, and throw that one drummer into the mix. God Among Insects is an excellent example of what a supergroup should be. Members from established bands getting together to do something different from the bands they're known for. Here we have Emperor Magnus Caligula from Dark Funeral, The Project Hate, and Hypocrisy on vocals; Lord K Philipson from Project Hate, Leukemia, House of Usher, Odyssey and Dark Funeral on guitar; Tomas Elofsson from Sanctification and Divine Desecration on bass; and Tobben Gustafsson from Syrus, Eureka and Vomitory on drums. Fans of Swedish death metal will certainly recognize those names.

This album starts out heavy and remains so until the very last note. It's full of chunky, chug along, downtuned riffs, very low growly vocals, impeccable drums, rumbling bass and immaculate production quality. Great old-fashioned, rabble-rousing death metal at one of its finest moments, slow where it needs to be and fast when you want it to be. I DARE you to try to not bang your head during the track "Headless Nun Whore." If you manage this, you are a master of self-control. (8.9/10)

I admit that my taste in music looks down on anything that smacks of emoting for the sake of emoting – the more a piece plays on cheap emotions, the more musically brilliant it should be. It is the textual critic in me, however, more than the music critic, who has a difficult time appreciating Straylight Run’s self-titled debut.

The music itself is solid, if touched with a sheen of Top 40 blandness. There is an epic grandeur to many of the tracks, paired with a consistent prettiness – perhaps this is the problem. There is nothing ugly here, no raspy voices, no near-painful chromatic sequences. In fact, there are some lovely bits – the string line that plays over what is meant to pass for a major expression of some emotion, desperation, perhaps, at the end of "Another Word for Desperate"; the piano bars that trickle through most of the songs; the intro to "Your Name Here (Sunrise Highway)," which sounds promising until the vocals begin.

Vocalist John Nolan has perfected that nasal whine so popular these days, unfortunately for the music. It is one thing to have pipes like Chris Martin and sing such classic lines as "Where do we go, nobody knows." It is another to sound like average Joe and force such platitudes out as "Things fall apart but you know/ we can’t wait forever so…" Lacking a proper vehicle for transmission, lyrics that are already too self-referential for their own good ("All these lines fall short of what I had in mind / a failed attempt to capsulize a feeling / so I just try fail and try and try again," from "Mistakes We Knew We Were Making") end up sounding trite.

Perhaps I am being too critical. I’m sure that Straylight Run will have some modest success among those who prefer their rock to be a pabulum, harmless, vaguely touching on the idea of our intimate distress, but never quite making to the realm of yanking on our heartstrings. The album is fine background music, non-challenging, nor particularly unpleasant. At the same time there is nothing new or exciting to be found; if I want something unsurprising, I will choose something predictably good – Coldplay, or look further back, and play old Radiohead discs which have long since lost their novelty though not their charm. Call me a music snob, but if I’m going to indulge in cheap emotions, I want my ears to agree with my heart. (5.8/10)

But it seems that the bandleader, Jonas Reingold (also of The Flower Kings), did some serious creative rethinking before putting a new Karmakanic album together. And so, while still dominated by Reingold’s presence, Wheel of Life is a much more cohesive and original band statement.

So what’s new? First and foremost, Wheel of Life offers an interesting take at blending progressive rock with jazz. Sure, it’s not something that hasn’t been done before, but Karmakanic manages to deliver the combination in form of original statements: Jonas Reingold’s pendulum bass playing, most possibly influenced by Eberhard Weber, leads the jazz sceneries naturally, with plenty of collective improvised playing that is reminiscent of Weather Report; and these are molded seamlessly into progressive rock suites that revive the cosmic call of Yes, without sounding pretentious, with an inspiring keyboard workout and a bit of the eastern sounds that were brought into rock music’s attention by The Beatles.

Thanks to all of the above, Karmakanic manages to give their high technical proficiency an artistic appeal that is a splendor, suppressing most of The Flower Kings’ material, as well as other bands in their game and offering the listener a sensual experience. Essential! (9/10)

The Nokturnal Mortum two CD Eleven Years Among the Sheep is what a compilation should be. It’s a big, gorgeous package that serves as a superb introduction to new listeners, while giving established fans something they haven’t heard before. And while there are some glaring flaws in the album itself, the good far outweighs the bad.

The 28-page booklet is actually too big. I got it out of the case, and now I can’t get it back in without damaging it. It’s chock full of excellent pictures and history of the band, like mini-production notes, all arranged in a very eye-catching way.

The first four tracks are from pre-Nokturnal Mortum days, and you’ll only give them their due because you’re aware of the history. Once you’ve heard these stumbling death metal bits, it’ll be enough. Things get more interesting with the Twilightfall demo material, and move on into some veritable unreleased quality with four rehearsal demos of early

Nokturnal Mortum songs.

The tracks taken from the four (as of 2004) full-length studio albums are well chosen and should whet the appetite to go buy the originals to hear the entirety of the work. The rest of the unreleased goodies comes in the form of some fairly recent live cuts, mostly from the band’s quintessential NeChrist album. The sound quality is very good. The gripe to be made here is that one of the songs in the live show is also in its studio form on the comp – another choice from the album would have made Eleven Years Among the Sheep a bit more diverse.

The big drag is that the CDs themselves seem to have been very badly authored. "Into the Flames of Wooden Churches" has an annoying clicking sound that appears halfway through the song – a sound that is not present on the original album, and two tracks toward the end of the compilation’s first CD skip horribly, sometimes jumping back and forth between the two songs, and invariably chopping out minutes at a time. This is truly an unfortunate oversight considering the quality and care given to the rest of the package. Whether these problems are strictly limited to our review copies cannot be said, but even if they are, Eleven Years Among the Sheep still stands as a recommended album. (7/10)

addendum 01/05: Unholy Records was good enough to send us another copy of this album to see if the authoring defects were gone. The skipping problems on disk one seemed to be gone (we only checked on one stereo), but the clicking on "In the Glare of Burning Churches" is still there, meaning that Unholy should have a word with their CD production people.

The album A New Day Dawning by Swedish four piece Siena Root can easily be mistaken for a lost product of the 70’s. No wonder they call it "rootrock"!

Siena Root manages to recreate the spirit of old with a clear, sterile production, integrating uncountable influences from the late 60’s and 70’s into one entity, that smells "classic" and rocks from start to finish throughout the album’s 68 minutes.

The mainstream psychedelia Cream influence is evident from the opening cut "Coming Home" and continues throughout the album. The bass playing is blessed with a Geezer Butler-like masculinity and the drums wink at a heavy, all-around "John Bonham" sound, while the guitars tend to be more of a free spirit and slow-handed, much like Clapton’s on his early days.

"Just Another Day" follows, opening with a typical Alice Cooper extravagant bang, while leading the way to an assault of vintage Deep Purple/Atomic Rooster-styled heavy organs, slowly making the way to the pounding rhythm of "Shine On,", where the band revisits the Grand Funk Railroad engine.

On the first listen there’s just no escape from the comparisons to familiar oldies that scream from the above mentioned tracks and those that follow, but once you get past it, further listens will reveal a nice songwriting, as well as interesting takes forming a tasty cocktail out of the influences, answering some of the classic rock’s "what if" questions. This is strongly evident on the two lengthy closing tracks that sound as if early Jethro Tull, with its acoustic, folk-drenched playing, met the crunchy riffs of Black Sabbath, yet without dwelling into the doomish depth of the soul as the latter did.

However, Siena Root still has a way to go in order to reach the quality songwriting of most of the classic acts that they follow, or that of more original contemporaries – with The Blues Traveler springing to mind (with albums like Four and Bridge) in light of their similar musical directions; or Monster Magnet, to which Siena Root serves as a more delicate choice.

That’s OK, though. These bands took some time to fully realize themselves, and Siena Root is definitely on the way to get there. Until they do, A New Day Dawning is a refined work with a classic feel, which would satisfy anyone who looks for a trip back in time, ready to compromise on originality in favor of familiarity. (7.5/10)

In our bewildering, disorienting post-modern times, there surely is a great comfort found in stoner metal. Here, take Goatsanke for instance: a relatively veteran band that obviously attempts to clone Saint Vitus. Who probably attempted to clone Kyuss. Who, as everyone else, cloned, still cloning, and forever will clone the four holy fathers, Ozzy, Tonny, Geezer and William. And they say there are no more meta-narratives.

So, one may say that having some grounding of traditional lineage is worth paying the price of having albums such as the latest Goatsnake.

Actually, it doesn't comprise such an artistic burden as might be imagined: indeed, there is nothing new and original about it. The album is composed of three new tracks and two covers (of Saint Vitus and Black Oak Arkansas; or is it Black Sabbath and Kyuss? No, wait, perhaps Electric Wizard?) all sounding about the same.

Also, there is something quite unsatisfying, not to say suspicious, about the fact that about half of the parts of the original tracks were already recorded two years ago, the covers already five years old – could it be implying of the band and label begetting this release more due to commercial motives than to artistic ones?

However, one cannot deny that Goatsnake do know their way around their genre. Even its most hostile critic would have to admit their ability to chug and belch their down-tuned riffing properly, the usually slightly inaccurate vocal performance always maintaining the typical atmosphere, keeping in the listener's mind assured that although the sound is always heavily distorted, sluggishly heavy and distortedly sluggish, the band is here not for their evil rituals, mystic invocations aor dark necromancy, but mainly for the truck driving and beer kegs. This keeps a certain charm to their musical activity and renders the flaws forgivable, even if at times one is still bound to regret that guitarist Greg Anderson hadn't simply slowed his playing by half, ommited the drum tracks and released the revised material as a new album of Sunn 0)) (another one of his bands).

In conclusion, Goatsnake further found their status as a respected, active elder in a long tradition of heart-warming stoner mediocrity. Got tired of Deridda and Foucault? Have a blast. (6/10)

Quoting from Century Media's promotional info of Unleashed's latest release:

"15 years after their formation, the band still delivers a one-two punch, and where many bands lighten over time, Unleashed continuously deliver concrete-breaking hammer blow onslaughts of crushing riffs, violent solos, hard hitting drums and uncompromisingly aggressive lyrics, solidly grounded in a massive production."

You couldn't have put it any better.

Indeed, Unleashed seems to be a group of firm-bodied, blond, perhaps blue-eyed Peter Pans. Being active since somewhere rather early in the arcane depths of the previous century, this bunch of self-proclaimed Viking warriors insist not to grow up, maintaining their old tradition of simplistic, meticulously uncompromising genre of traditional Swedish death metal. Never to mature, forever remaining faithful to blunt, carelessly sweeping havoc. "I Bring You Death!" the lyrics proclaim. "I only fuck the dead!" Again, you couldn't have put it any better.

In fact, Unleashed may be somehow disappointed to hear that, without noticing, they might have ripened a bit after all. The sound production on the album is truly excellent: The band's playing sounds almost un-spontaneously tight and accurate – a notion that, together with an impressive sense of professionalism, also derives a certain atmosphere of static steadiness not complimenting their pretended rampaging rawness. Also, some stylistic flourishes in the shape of unusual sounding guitar solos and some cleanly played atmospheric parts blunderingly generate an occasional part not obviously played and heard before – do not worry, dear Viking youth, these moments are few and don't affect the overall familiarity prevailing the recording.

All in all, Unleashed’s continuing activity may be understandable. After all, they must be enjoying being uncompromising Viking warriors a great deal. And playing the same set lists at gigs for 15 years may be a bit tiring, even for such loyal fellows. So, refreshing the repertoire with some new riffs may be welcome, even if they sound exactly as the old ones. The feeling may be different perhaps. Actually buying Sworn Allegiance? Well, if you have followed the band for 15 years, you will anyway. If you haven't, you may start with an earlier release. Or with this one. They are all probably more or less the same. (5/10)

It’s time for another installment of "the good, the bad, and the ugly," summing up the lengthy pontifications of our most cerebral staffer. – Roberto Martinelli

The good:

- Inspired by alchemy, Finnish folklore and Eastern mysticism, Aarni reaches new levels of eccentricity and enchantment in the doom metal genre with obscure atonality, melody, unearthly, bizarre, colorful sluggishness.

The bad:

- Despite being a brilliant piece of work, Bathos does not contain any specific outstanding tracks.

The ugly:

- Confusing Aarni, the Finnish doom band, with Arnie, the governor of California.

The review:

Following their split release with Umbra Nihil, any upcoming solo album by Aarni should raise great curiosity and expectations regarding the essence of the recently ripe fruit of a creative force capable of such intriguing, singular and brilliant outcomes. Bathos features an outstanding batch of engulfing, enchanting pieces aesthetically derivative of the doom metal genre, infusing the listener with narcotic doses of obscure contemplation, bulky ponderings and obscure atonality.

However, Aarni's new album is to evoke much further beyond merely bearing the name of this magnificent band. A short glance at the booklet of Bathos reveals that the band's creation has greatly focused upon numerous of the endless hidden treasures of splendidly esoteric thought schools: from alchemy to Eastern mystics, from tales of Finnish folklore to bewildering discordant symbolism. Such pretensions surely upraise the expectations one has from such a release to nearly unprecedented standards.

Spinning Bathos for the first time, a tension is naturally built: will the band manage to absorb the listener within an experiential dimension of such overwhelming, enchanting lore? How should such an incredible task be achieved?

A listen to Bathos reveals that indeed, Aarni hasn't failed to reach new levels of eccentricity in their music. Their latest album defies any conventions of a usual listening experience. It reaches far beyond any familiar of form of linear understanding or common assimilation of musical content. The process of imbuing the output of Aarni may perhaps be compared, more than everything else, to scrying (divining the future through a crystal ball – helpful Roberto). One has to lean back, let go of any listening norms and habits, and allow the music to rise from within the depths of his subconscious, bringing forth dormant impressions and hidden images from the bottoms of his being.

Aesthetically, the band's music is still characterized mostly by the opposition existing between unusual harmony and melody, on one hand, and the at times amazing (not to say exaggerated) rhythmical and structural simplicity, on the other, creating a sense of unearthly, bizarre, colorful sluggishness. Stylistically, the band has departed further from the grounds of known, conventional metal. Although maintaining deep, fathomable vocals somehow typical to the genre and conserving a reasonable amount of heavy, bassy riffs and simple, straight forward melodic lines, the presence of clean, intricate melodic passages, unusual atmospheric atonal phrasings and sheerly avant-garde sound effects and passages moves the band away from the realms of any metal environment to a perfectly unique and particular one, forming their own extraordinary space, a closure in which the marvels of Aarni take place.

However, it should be noted that the greatly encompassing atmosphere of the album also demands a certain price to pay: unlike their previous split, it seems that the current release lacks any exceedingly brilliant specific tracks. In their search for the establishment of ultimate mental surroundings, the band somehow, perhaps inevitably, lets go of the level of concrete, surface excellence, departing to the higher realms of complete holism.

So, while lacking any specific outstanding tracks to pinpoint and cherish, Bathos is an incredible, involving and divining listening experience. Highly recommende for every follower of the occult, overall seeker, or open-minded music fan whatsoever. (9/10)

It’s time for another installment of "the good, the bad, and the ugly," summing up the lengthy pontifications of our most cerebral staffer. – Roberto Martinelli

The good:

- Vasaraasia benefits from outstanding compositional and arrangement skills, melding an incredible range of instrumentation that does not fall into the trap of sounding like pretentious, hollow avant-garde vacuousness.

- The result of Alamaailman Vasarat’s ambition and musical skill is an enchanting trademark sound.

The bad:

- if mixing near-metal with parade music doesn’t sound like your thing, steer clear.

The ugly:

- Alamaailman Vasarat’s web site describes them as "Finnish group playing kosher-kebab-jazz-film music."

The review:

When a band features a lineup such as Finnish Alamaailman Vasarat, one is surely to be imbued with a sense of wonder, uncertainty and even slight unconfidence regarding the final output. Its leading spots being manned by a mixture of instruments as soprano sax, trombone, didgeridoo, trombone and organ, as well as drums, heavy rhythm guitar and several sporadic additional instruments, the band faces a risk of falling into one of numerous craters such as hollow avant-garde, vacuous extravagance or mere pretentiousness. Luckily, Alamaailman Vasarat managed to avoid all of such pits while fulfilling their ambitious musical task.

Basing their creation upon honesty, idealism and talent in addition to the spirit of musical experimentalism, Alamaailman Vasarat managed to produce, an intriguing, whole piece of innovative, singular music.

The aforementioned merits should be mainly related to the band's ability to establish a firm, coherent conceptual sonic identity. Leaning upon outstanding compositional and arrangement skills, adjoining stable and masterful instrumental performance, they managed to isolate and emphasize certain traits of expression inherent to their members, integrating them to the shape of a coherent, cohesive whole. The brass instruments are the most notable ones in that aspect: they bear a virtuoso Klezmer-oriented narrative qualities, allowing them to convey an incredibly wide spectrum of emotional timbres while remaining faithful to a unique, unified expressive spirit. These are usually featured in parallel with an opposing layer of bassy support, at times brass and string oriented, at others entering the realms of near-metal music with distorted guitars and straight forward rhythmical phrases.

This amalgamation is always purposely and tastefully put, founding an unmistakable, enchanting and unique trademark sound for the band, ranging from ethnic to chamber music, from metal phrases to parade themes.

Now, as the greatly varied yet stable platform has been achieved, the band manages to apply their great essential artistic epitome and bring their driving ideas for their overwhelming fulfillment. Here yet another aspect of the band's incredible variety shows itself – not only in rhetoric and articulation, but also in the kernel of artistic notions: once again, in a hypnotizing demonstration of paradoxical sporadic rationality and varied unity, Alamaailman Vasarat feature tinges of cheerful humor, ponderous literality, bitter irony, eerie avant-garde or honest, unmediated emotional confessions. All of these, it should be once again mentioned, obviously stem from the mind of the same creative entity, proving a wholesome variety of expression, yet ever maintaining loyalty to the overall organizing principle – this featuring the slippery, high pitched voice of brass as corresponding with the lower accompanying surface, at times facing him, teasing and avoiding, at times joining together in order to articulate a universal, joint statement of a certain captured emotion, be it satisfaction, protest or existential gloom.

Specifically, if judging each track by itself, the concrete pieces on Vasaraasia range from the level of nice and entertaining to the deeply intriguing and absorbing. Indeed, they rarely reach the level of truly fascinating or absolutely remarkable composition, but this does much not interfere with the total listening experience, considering all of the vast palate of aforementioned traits.

So, in conclusion, Alamaailman Vasarat deliver a unique, eclectic experience of multi-instrumental, border crossing yet sufficiently localized and grounded musical showcase. Despite – or alternately, as a result of – their lack of clear relation to any specific movement, it is a phenomenon no open minded music fan and supporter may allow himself to miss. (8.5/10)

Here we have a compilation from the leader in dark and electronic music, Sweden's one and only Cold Meat Industry. With a seemingly unending stream of quality bands and unique tracks, this two disc release is by far the best way of getting to know the label, or the myriad of genres presented within.

The first CD is made up of the somewhat "lighter" outfits, the ones that are either full blown fairy tale tributes or ones that teeter on the edge of reason without going across. While songs by The Protagonist and In Slaughter Natives come very close, they merely flirt with the deep end of the sonic abyss and manipulate it to further the impact instead of diving right in. Ataraxia and Apatheia are the exact opposite, no glaring black holes in sight, only fruit filled gardens of delight and ecstacy. Among the many highlights are wonderful tracks by Sanctum and Ordo Rosarius Equilibrium, each putting their mark upon the first half of the adventure.

This first CD is rather unsure throughout it's 55 minutes of playing time, or rather makes the listener unsure of what's to come: should we be afraid or prepare our pillows and finally give in to sweet serenades of the sullen minded? I'm telling you, be afraid, be very afraid...

The second CD is a true showcase of unique and mind blowing music: bands that are true explorers of everything psychological go at it in full force to slowly rumble the very foundation of your core being. It makes the first CD sound like a walk in a nymph infested park. Absolute highlights from Beyond Sensory Experience, Sephiroth and MZ 412, who all showcase new material.

I'd hate to completely spoil the fun any further so I urge you to find this release, buy it and take some time to explore the wonders of the Cold Meat Industry. (9.5/10)

It’s time for another installment of "the good, the bad, and the ugly," summing up the lengthy pontifications of our most cerebral staffer. – Roberto Martinelli

The good:

- By featuring long periods of a repetitive weaving of gentle, mellow soundscapes based on recurring patterns of electronica-oriented keyboards, bass lines and gentle programmed drums, accompanied by sobered, mildly anguished vocals The music of Forest of Shadows conveys emotions of expressive bleakness, dark humility and excruciated desperation.

The bad:

- Some of the elements, while good, do ring of cloning of noted doom metal bands that came before.

The ugly:

- Departure moves from bitter honesty to bitter mediocrity.

The review:

In its second release, Forest of Shadows presents an interesting example of a stylistically divided, intentionally genre-defying piece of art. While on certain fields the Finnish one-man band Niclas Frohagen (although it should be noted that it involved additional members in the past, one of which also contributed to the compositions on Departure) manages to create a unique, singular and absorbing effect upon the listener, whenever attempting to balance its obscurity and establish a coherent correspondence with defined, enclosed musical style, their creativity and justification as a creative unit is drastically diminished, proving the flaws that may stem from a forced, unnatural maintenance of a commitment to a standard musical current.

The music of Forest of Shadows conveys emotions of expressive bleakness, dark humility and excruciated desperation. As typical to the well familiar doom metal genre, the emotional spectrum delivered by their creations is well past the stage of hope or militant struggle, saddeningly admitting its ever-stagnant submergence in the mire of nostalgic hopeless yearning. The band applies two main means in order to fulfill their artistic agenda: first, and favorably, most tracks feature long periods of a repetitive weaving of gentle, mellow soundscapes based on recurring patterns of electronica-oriented keyboards, bass lines and gentle programmed drums, accompanied by sobered, mildly anguished vocals. This array of sonic articulation perfectly depicts the aforementioned emotional state: self-aware, sorrowful dimness, realizing its lack of possibility to evolve or locate a shard of salvaging hope or anticipation to dent the eternal frame of prevailing murkiness.

However, while excelling at the above described expressional activity and managing to achieve a cohesive, cohesive piece of vain yet genuine manifestation, the band had apparently been overly keen of maintaining a certain measure of loyalty to theitr probably originating metal roots.

Therefore, each track also includes passages of the well known, thick keyboard orchestrations, growling vocals and heavy guitar layers, attempting to generate a deep and lush space of encompassing, hypnotizing, tortured environment. Unfortunately, also being determined not to harm the coherency and inner unity of the inner structure of the compositions, these parts are characterized by rhythmical and harmonic traits very similar to the ones on the quieter, calm pieces – and, therefore, being highly reminiscent of the greatly cloned and nowadays banal standards similar to old doom metal bands.

Now, while the mellow parts contain, as already noted, a touching sense of tranquil, restrained authenticity, the latter parts rarely raise beyond the expected. Indeed, at times they do feature an interesting harmonic timbre, but these cases are not frequent nor significant. While surely possessing the rare, powerful prowess of protruding one's emotional screening by applying a singular manner of expression, whenever stepping into a defined context, acknowledging the stylistic narratives, Forest of Shadows move from bitter honesty to bitter mediocrity.

So, the quality of Departure is inconsistent and hard to determine. Still, if a bottom line must be phrased, it appears that the better, original parts on the album do entitle it being worth a listen. (6.5/10)

Cipher System is another example of a modern sounding, technical band that emphasizes dark melody and builds atmosphere with background computer effects. The group has done it successfully: the guitars and drums are accurate and impressively varied and built-up with more riffs per song than should be expected. Intense, throaty growls rip through most tracks, giving the group a metalcore appeal that is built upon by the In Flames-style riffs and attention to detail.

Cipher System's formula is a fine one, and the listener's attention isn't allowed to drift from the near-constant changes that build up during the course of each track. And the subtle synthesized effects do a lot for Central Tunnel 8's ambiance and melodic themes. However, each track tends to sound more and more like the previous ones the deeper into the album you get. The guitars always take a similar tone, and the screams get monotonous. More variety in the sound, instruments, tempo, etc. would make a much stronger album. But Cipher System is made up of talented musicians with excellent songwriting ability and the drive to make roiling, emotional and complex tracks, so the group's base is more than solid. After they've had a couple more years to evolve, Cipher System could create something like we haven't heard before. (6.5/10)

From the cover art to the mood of the album, The Chasm has a role-playing sort of atmosphere going for them. Epic songs with emotional melodies and bouncy riffs remind one of a more medieval-looking Amon Amarth; the elements are similar in their basic respects, but The Chasm tends to change riffs more often and keep things more interesting and flowing than Amon Amarth's recent attempts have seemed to.

However, things still tend to get repetitive, and in spite of some impressively fast sections and clearly above-the-cut precision, The Chasm's final product is not particularly striking. The album sounds like it could be a decade old – and there are plenty of ten-year-old death albums I'd rather listen to. So, although The Chasm has some interesting themes and a notable number of riffs and grooves per song, there is no doubt that there is better stuff out there on which to spend your time and money. (5.5/10)

Poland's Sunrise is a metalcore-death-inspired group, and Traces to Nowhere is nine similar sounding tracks that are generic in most respects. Low growls without much versatility grace them all, as well as monotonous drums and guitars.

Though they aren't a terrible band, the members of Sunrise don't do a lot to set themselves apart. 4/4 time signatures, moderate tempos and little variation seem to be the rule. There are some good grooves and fair melodies to be found here. An eye for accuracy and decent production are a couple more of the highlights. But again, nothing you haven't heard before. Middle-of-the road and easily forgettable. (5/10)

Since our review of their last album, Tartharia still hasn't mastered the art of being interesting, though Abstract Nation shows that the group may be headed in the right direction. Their straightforward, often cheesy grooves get to be predictable and tend toward the unimaginative, and few songs are worth listening to beginning to end.

Tartharia has a distinctive, harsh sound quality and atmosphere that help shape the group's unique style, but mood isn't satisfactory by itself. There simply isn't enough substance at this point to flesh out an album, and Abstract Nation is all seasoning and little meat, so to speak. (4.5/10)

This powerful Brazilian trio has learned a lot in its 12-year run about making pure, traditional, brutal death metal, and Bloodshed is a perfect example of how Krisiun can make the most of three musicians. Although not considered a full-length album, eight vicious tracks are more than enough to gratify.

Live as well as on their CDs, Krisiun goes all-out fast – the group's sheer speed and accuracy are usually enough to impress, though sometimes their accelerated tempos don't make up for the mediocrity in their riffs. Bloodshed is slowed down a bit from the norm, and I think this sacrifice in pace may have helped Krisiun come up with less repetitive, more thoughtful lines. Things still tend toward the repetitious, but there are enough changes in riffs and themes to keep boredom at bay.

Bloodshed looks and sounds like it could have been released eight years ago. This isn't necessarily a bad thing for die-hard fans of Suffocation, etc., who love nothing more than a collection of deep, growling, violent tracks, but it will not please those who expect a pumped-up, digital recording (Bloodshed is completely analog). But hell, there are some exceptional grooves and nothing but pure, scathing death to be found in Krisiun's new one. And you can't argue with that, or it will disembowel you. (7/10)

On Far From the Sun, Amorphis continues to develop in the hard rock direction, almost totally neglecting the extreme metal of their early days while still exploring their Finnish folk tradition.

Some may call Amorphis’ move towards radio-friendly material a sell-out, but since this tendency was already obvious with 1996’s Elegy, there’s really no room for disappointment or for judging their creative decisions, as it seems honest enough to be justified.

Likewise, the performance on their current release is appropriately convincing. Dominating this collection of existentialism-inspired songs (the American pressing is the version to get, expanding the original album with a handful of bonus material that is on par with the rest) are guitars and keyboards that supply fine melodic lines, incorporating Finnish folk influences naturally and seamlessly, as was done on Amorphis’ previous releases.

The vocals here, while not really standing out, manage to deliver the songs quite faithfully, while the rhythm section serves as solid backrest, and at times gives an invigorating hard drive to the melody.

And so, aside from the folk elements that mold into rock patterns found throughout, you can find a powerful Black Sabbath-like intensity on "Killing Goodness," as well as progressive Pink Floyd inspired scents ("Ethereal Solitude"), which has been previously manifested on previous Amorphis’ albums.

Still, it’s hard to believe Amorphis would find any new audience, not to mention a mass-appeal, and this is mostly due to the fact the songs are atypical candidates to please the masses, nor do they have the emotional strength needed. This leaves the future for Amorphis as a question mark, and I truly wonder where will they go next, hoping they continue evolving according to their own accord as long as it suggests a step forward. (7/10)

On his solo album Why Not Now, originally released in 1988, Ray Russell (who once co-led the jazz-rock band Rock Workshop, with Alex Harvey) offers interesting, relaxed sceneries painted by slowly developing and melodic harmonies that are built around his varied, multi-tracked guitar work (on all sorts of guitars) and keyboards.

But Russell (who is also handling some of the percussions) is not alone here – he has a creative team of supporters at his side, including trumpeter Mark Isham (foundations for Isham’s later, highly-acclaimed scores for TV series, such as "Chicago Hope," can certainly be found here) and bassist Mo Foster as well as the late, legendary conductor and pianist Gil Evans, who is famous for his work with Miles Davis (Miles Ahead, Porgy and Bess, Sketches of Spain) and to whom this work is dedicated.

The gradual landscape that is gently spawned here and the meticulous production more than hint towards an ECM (the record label) influence; but unlike the timeless ECM sound, there are certain dated ‘80s esthetics to be found here (mostly the keyboards and percussions sound) that, in retrospect, make this recording even more unique.

The album’s first track, "Outland," sweeps you back and forth like waves, developing slowly, and serves as a nice introduction to the spirit of the entire album – the evening mood, the accurate orchestration, the layered instruments interactions and the restrained soloing. One highlight here is Russell’s guitar picking that has a strong and original vibraphone sense into it.

The album continues while introducing a new-age orientation (think Kitaro), with the final result often being not too far away from Marty Friedman’s Introduction, albeit with more varied instruments that contribute to the rich harmonies and unfolding landscapes. This is most notable on "Blue Shoes – No Dance."

While the album’s character might be regarded as somewhat monotonous by the impatient, its gradual building-up is essential to the artistic vision. Still, as the album advances, certain tracks, such as "Childscape" and "Avian," offer wilder soloing and more up-tempo energy, that at times almost sound as classic jazz-rock material, though still holding up well as a part of the generally laid-back album.

Why Not Now might not be an absolutely essential piece, especially if you are taking your first steps into "landscapes-jazz" (you should check out our "From The Vault" archives for better "first time experience" selections); yet it is definitely a moving piece, beautiful in its restraint and a product of a skilled, high craftsmanship. (8/10)

After some research, the band revealed itself to be Lithuanian. After some listening, the band revealed to be very old school black thrash. The lyrics and parts of the music show signs of their cultural heritage: old people and dead people in abundance in the booklet, all looking either cold, eastern or both, or dead (of course). The music is very much the same besides the apparent influences: very cold in the guitar department, rocking and flailing in the drum department, and grim and biting in the vocal department.

Maras is Dissimulation’s first full-length, and they do show promise but give or take an album or two and these guys will show their true potential. Of course it's all been done before a hundred times but these Lithuanians put out an entertaining effort, with a Kreator cover and a sample of a Hilter speech, there's a bit of everything for everyone. And when it comes with a very decent production, entertaining songs and in a slick digipack (also available on 12" yellow/black splattered vinyl in a run of 333) then it's not a bad deal at all.

Recommended only to those who enjoy old school black thrash with a hint of eastern flavor. (6/10)

Only a young 'un, this band is, formed in 2003, releasing their debut, Kill Maim Burn, in the same year. Already they are set on hammering their lowbrow style of death metal through the collective throat of the scene by pumping out another album. The guitarist and bassist have both left after the recording of Rage of the Bloodbeast (but already replaced) so who knows where their future attempts will end up, but for now this fat bastard of a record will do quite nicely.

The vocals are exceptional, the shouted vocals lack a bit in power but the low grunted barks make up for it. It's like sitting next to something big and heavy, like a fat bulldog... with long hair and an Obituary shirt on, growling and slobbering in your direction. It's just that heavy sounding.

Song wise this is a very strong album; there's no pretentious wankery anywhere, just straight up, bad ass death metal. The band lays it down like it is, which is easy to follow, double bass-driven slabs of sonic debauchery. The album opener, where it becomes evident just how heavy the vocals are, is like a death metal anthem, it just screams beer and head banging and the occasional decapitation or two.

Also present is the always tacky "we will rape and burn your family and pets" attitude of the album. But throw that aside, grab those beers and you'll be in for a good time.

There are no real surprises, either, except a solo here and there, but there's no shame in only doing what you do best. No eruptions of the technical itch, no side steps into other genres, no "what the fuck" moments where the band starts to straddle a flamenco guitar. It's all simple and easy to digest. Just the way death metal should be. (6/10, 10/10 if you drink beer a lot and like decapitations)

This dark, catchy, Gothic rock band comes originally from Austria. The Austrians, like the Germans, have a cultural angst in their life philosophy. They don’t expect to be happy, really. Austria is the home of Goethe & Freud – of "Sturm und Drang." Lacrimas Profundere is naturally dark, but thankfully, not hopelessly moribund.

They are reminiscent of Depeche Mode. Aggressive, charged musical attacks woven together with haunting keyboards or a sad cello interlude add to the music’s depth and texture. The lead vocalist is mesmerizing. His voice is raw, low, and hypnotically calm. Just when it gets downright monotonous he feeds himself through various phase shifters for the Alice in Wonderland effect. The music is certainly atmospheric. It creates a somber, lonely, melancholy haze that funnels me right down the rabbit hole into the shadowy life of maudlin self-examination. After a couple of full spins I am left yearning to indulge in a warm sunny spot and a happy ending. (7.3/10)

Sara Brightman meets Metallica.

Ahh…what a fabulous looking band of people. Arwen is metal from Spain (and an immortal female elf). It seems that the European flavor of the metal genre more often successfully balances the aggressive male energy with the lavish feminine. This is an eight-piece band complete with beautiful bellas playing keyboards and singing.

Arwen’s sound is huge and theatrical. They have the double harmonizing searing guitars with the arpeggiated keyboard build-ups. They also have the full-on French horn breaks and the choruses of violins opening the gates of heaven.

Last but really FIRST – the signature sound (if you can imagine it) is that assaulting double bass drum with the mirroring rhythm guitar part, ala Metallica. It is a technical and complex system of beat and fire. Perhaps without stretching too far, I can hear the flavor of flamenco – the beating heels of the fiercely emotional dancers – validating both power and vulnerability. The lyrics are rich and insightful. They take their human searching perspective in a much larger scheme of life. Arwen’s mix of male and female vocals makes this a very satisfyingly diverse musical experience.

There are some great tracks on this release, (check out their first release in 2002 - Memories of a Dream) but track six is what diversity is all about. It is a seamless mix of Celtic, classical Spanish, some American folk and yes, heavy metal! Check it out. Very European and very cool! (8/10)

Other than this six-piece Spanish band being named "Red Wine," all else – including all the song lyrics and the liner notes – are in Spanish. It’s refreshing that this band has the balls to sing in their own language and not worry so much about capturing the American market.

The first track on Cenizas is Spanish poetry delivered by the rolling lingual beauty of the silky smooth female voice of Beatriz Leon – she is whispering with sexy urgency right into your ear. After her 51 seconds all hell breaks loose! Other than "Una Vida Mas" (which I witnessed an entire bar in Puerto Vallarta burst out in song to) and "Mi Universo," I think I’m safe in calling this speed metal. I pause the spin to get a couple of aspirin.

The hyper staccato of Mario Suarez’s vocal delivery turns out to be surprisingly compatible within the metal genre. The unique timbre of his voice cuts through the density of the band with scorching ease. The drummer is a double bass drum racehorse lurching out of the starting gate. He is a force to behold and his blaze drives the band like a windmill in a hurricane.

I go back over and over to the first spoken track to try and figure out why it is called "806" and how she can roll those syllables like marbles under her tongue. Then I’m back to the hypnotic anthem of "Una Vida Mas." I’m reading off the liner notes, singing at the top of my lungs as I prepare to wrap up and call it a night. Buenas Noches, Compadres. (7/10)

Albums by established groups chock full of cover songs are a dime a dozen, and there are a billion bands intent on foisting their favorite artists on you. From Metallica, to Eric Clapton, to Dwight Yoakam, Richie Stevens, and Cat Power, artists have strip-mined their record collections, and though the occasional intention is to explain where they've derived their influences, the term "stop-gap" usually comes to mind instead. It's as though some will do almost anything to remain in the public consciousness, weighing their own work against performers no nearer to stardom through this association (see Metallica).

So when Napalm Death brought out their first edition of Leaders, Not Followers in 2000, it would have been to be suspicious of their motivation. The aim, however, was to be educational, not to revel in monetary exploitation/grave robbing. Napalm's collective knowledge of these groups, some of whom are quite obscure, helped shed light on their careers. This even, in one case, propagated the release of an entire disc worth of demo tracks from Michigan's Repulsion, featured on their first installment.

The roots of that six song release have blossomed into Part 2, which, at 19 tracks, finishes the argument that their vortex of dissonance had to originate somewhere. And while many will claim them for the "metal" camp, the Crasstifarian mood of their early years is felt when they tackle the songs of Discharge and Anti Cimex. They move on through numbers by Agnostic Front, Siege, Die Kruezen, and Attitude Adjustment, as well as a few more metal/speedcore hits by Cryptic Slaughter, Master and Sepultura, but the idea is to show how each group helped forge Napalm Death's sound and attitude.

And Napalm borrow from all of them, but they have advanced too, obviously. They have added their own signature quirks, while inventing an entirely new genre from piles of nearly-forgotten demos, rehearsal tapes, and albums that never saw proper release. Fast forward to now and Napalm Death's songwriting has moved beyond extremes heretofore unforeseen anywhere in guitar-based music. Leaders Not Followers 2 is a fresh start, a turning of the page for a band who, two decades in, still have more to add. (10/10)

On her debut, independent release, Ruth Dolores Waiss wails with a storm of self-centered life observations. Equipped with her piano and her accordion, she delivers Tom Waits influenced scorched vocals that fills you, like an elder’s wisdom, in both awe and trust; spilling out her misery while trying to move on – a darker version of Fiona Apple, if you’d like.

On "I Love (This Blue Life of Mine)" – one of the finest self-observations I bumped into recently – she sings, "No one’s hope can be stronger than mine, it survived where no hope can grow," fueling her self-acceptance with a life-long pessimism, realizing that "sometimes there’s no one to see this beauty but me." Touched and stormed as I am, I can only hope she is wrong – this beauty certainly deserves its audience, even if it does take some effort to discover. (8/10)

This band is scary.

Not in the church burning, virgin defiling, ex-band mate stabbing sort of way. Nor in the manner of a gore infested splatterfest rife with lyrical odes to disembowelment, evisceration and dismemberment. They’re not Nazis, Christians, Druids or Republicans. No, Mnemic should scare the pants off you, your mother, your ancestors, your friends, your dog and most of the bands in your sad little CD collection because they are good. So good. Utterly. Fucking. Good.

Just about a year to the day after dropping their astonishing debut, Mechanical Spin Phenomena, on an unsuspecting public, Mnemic aren’t letting anyone, let alone themselves, catch a breath. Where they found the time is anyone’s guess. How they were able to operate within said time frame and emerge with a sophomore effort nearly as sterling as their debut borders on the criminal.

There isn’t any significant advancement from album number one on The Audio Injected Soul. It’s more of a lateral move, a refinement. All of the elements that made Mechanical Spin Phenomena such an inextricable tangle have been boiled down to the bone, shot full of steroids and allowed to run rampant. The heavier parts weigh just a bit more. Angelic choruses and bridges carry an extra pinch of ethereal mass. Lyrical hooks embed a few millimeters deeper and refuse to leave. Infectious song structures burn into your brain like a fever that refuses to break.

These very elements form the one conundrum of The Audio Injected Soul. Each song is so tight that there isn’t any wiggle room, no space for the band to stretch out into any expanded passages that were a hallmark of Mechanical Spin Phenomena. In the current context this is fine but in the course of a few albums it could potentially find the band in same position as Fear Factory when that band released Digimortal; where the razor thin line between commercial and heavy isn’t so much crossed as demolished to a pile of rubble that leaves few satisfied.

No such danger exists in the present. The beauty, and by turn brilliance, of Mnemic is their ability to crush all surrounding life before sending those hapless souls to the next world on a lullaby carried in the breath of a fallen seraph. (8/10)

Live DVDs, like live CDs, should belong in a rating category all their own. Live DVDs, like live CDs, generally sit in your collection and are, barring exceptions, enjoyed once, maybe twice every blue moon. The more attention the medium requires, the less likely you’ll return to it.

With that said, Blind Guardian’s 2DVD live album is quite a piece of work. The 20-song set is grand and played flawlessly. Fans who already own the 2CD live album will be happy to know that it’s not the same set, a trick a few bands have been pulling lately. Personally, more than a couple songs from Somewhere Far Beyond would have been nice (and you can hear some songs from that album played on the bonus, documentary material. Did they cut stuff out? For shame.)

And as is the case with DVDs, it’s almost as much about the extras as it is the main bill. The behind the scenes set up of a metal festival is equally interesting as it is embarassing and candid. The documentary and interview gives interesting insight for young bands on some technical issues. The extra live footage from another recent show is slightly less good than the main set, but still of very high quality.

The biggest liability of Blind Guardian’s DVD persona is unfortunately that you have to see the members of the band, really up close. It kind of ruins the fantasy of Lord of the Rings characters playing metal to see some really bad physiques flopping around with ET guts and man boobs. But bringing the performances is what it’s all about, and they certainly do that. It’s nothing short of awe-inspiring to hear the tens of thousands of audience members sing the chorus to "Valhalla" a full two minutes after the song is over. And all 40,000-50,000 of those people will cherish this DVD forever. If you’re a big fan, so will you. Highly recommended as far as music DVDs go. (8/10)

There’s been a trend of late amongst extreme metal bands of slapping an incongruous track onto the end of the CD. Sure, bands of most any ilk have been propagating this for years, but we’re not talking about some ill conceived joke track, painful (and often drunken) cover version or inane studio patter and band in-jokes. No. Instead there’s been increasing number of end songs that are at direct odds sonically and structurally with their immediate predecessors, a seemingly desperate plea for attention as if to say "oh, oh, look at us. We can do so much more than just crush/kill/destroy/et al." The irony is that many of these cries for help are as good or better than anything else found on the album. Cattle Decapitation’s latest contains a dark ambient masterpiece that emerges after thirty odd minutes of the band’s usual death-grind. Hell, Cephalic Carnage took it one step further a couple of years ago and released a separate EP containing one excruciatingly long doom workout that glowed as antithesis to their typical million mile per hour noise blasts. These experiments and dabblings have become the modern equivalent of the 80’s power ballad – in reverse. Soon everybody will have to have one but this time around it’s an artistic fair trade because the results are often so stellar.

Add Shepherd to the list of those who’ve entered the fray. The first seven tracks of The Coldest Day – track one is titled "Monday," track seven "Sunday," do the math on the rest – are firmly rooted in the stoner rock vein, moving easily in a haze born of Sabbath and Kyuss with an unexpected twist of latter day Dr. Know thrown in just for kicks. Each titular day of the week passes by in fine fashion: rocking with abandon when needed, deliberate and menacing when called for, blurred as a general rule. No qualms with their approach and execution.

What day follows Sunday? In the universe as presented by Shepherd it’s album closer "Doomsday," a jagged, thirteen-minute exercise of slow motion aural panic. Opening with a slab of feedback layered over melodramatic 1950’s era sci-fi samples, "Doomsday" limps and crawls through a nightmarish landscape of droney fuzz, tortured yells, random horn flourishes, near-arbitrary percussion and ghostly piano notes struck underwater; the latter effect turning the song, at times, into no less than an alternate version of Burzum’s Filosofem. Where does Shepherd go after "Doomsday" though? Perhaps, say, an album length "Day After?" One can dream. (6.5/10)

There are some bands whose output is at a monstrous pace, and no matter if the fifth album in two years sounds pretty much like the second, third and fourth – the band is so original and the sound unique that blindly collecting it all is a foregone conclusion. Xasthur is one such band, and Mystic Forest, and its sister band Eikenskaden, are two others.

Between the two sisters, something like six to eight records in three years. Yes, the two bands’ unique take on blurry, blissfully fucked up, melodic, sweetly emotionally pained black metal would leave you clueless in a blind taste test, but the distinctions gradually developed. Mystic Forest became prettier, while Eikenskaden continued down the road of utter scathing despair.

And so Mystic Forest album #4 may be the prettiest yet. Romances is like black metal from the Old Country: the place where parents of first generation European immigrants talk of when providing a contrast to American delinquency; a harsh place, but a place of tradition and mores.

It’s mostly because of the accordion. We’re not sure if it’s an actual accordion or a synthesizer, but its sometimes near harmonica tones take this reviewer back to familial dinners in the garden at the stone family home in the south of France... the Old Country. This accordion sound prevails largely throughout Romances. Its sound is rather overbearing, even trumping the bombastically fuzzy guitars and thin, blasting drums. The result is that it's often difficult to make out exactly what notes are being played because of the distortion and volume, making Romances’ metal parts equally ambient mood pieces.

Punctuating these folky blitzes are classical pieces by Debussy and Chopin, delicately played on piano while samples of pouring rain are heard in the background. The effect provides a feeling of historical context to the historical context conjured by that feeling of the Old Country: come in for a moment from the storm of fuzz and bask in the timeless culture of Europe. The feeling from these piano pieces is much like the magical, mystical atmosphere of Cocteau’s classic "La Belle et la Bête."

Romances provides a sort of surreal painting of one determined, lone genius’ twisted mindset. It’s a bit esoteric, even by extreme metal standards, and the music does tend to redundancy, both within this album and in the framework of the sister bands’ body of work. But you’ll be getting it for its unique flavor, which becomes more and more apparent with the repetition of its formula, something that does stand out on its own merit in the discography of Mystic Forest and Eikenskaden. (7.5/10)

80s-style thrash and 90s-style death metal copulated and their bastard spawn was named Methedras. Formed in 1996, this Italian thrash band has taken many years to refine their sound into the down and dirty death/thrash groove we hear on their first full-length release, Recursive.

Jangly guitar solos in some places, chunky riffing in others, swirling together with crashing cymbals is very reminiscent of the standard thrash fare of the 80s and this is present throughout this album, but Methedras has added a death metal flair to the base of their songs and occasional black metal nuances, even an almost power metal sounding instrumental breakdown on "The Denied God." This all combines into an amalgamation of musical styles pleasing to the ear, and a nice walk down the old 80s memory lane.

My only complaint here is vocalist Claudio Facheris. There are places where he throws out fantastic bellows and growls, but through most of the tracks, it sounds like strained shouting. His voice is strong, though, and it doesn’t necessarily detract from the music, but doesn't add much, either. High points of this album are the great guitar work of the awesomely named Massimiliano Ducati and the tracks "Wreck 'n Roll" and "Darkness." (6/10)

When the call goes out for the soundtrack to you and your buddies’ next night of pick up drivin’, Jack swillin’, pool cue swingin’, road sign shootin,’ and ass rapin’ adventures, look no farther than The Burning South. Like fellow genre-mates Alabama Thunderpussy, Beaten Back to Pure forge an unholy union of prime old school doom and 70’s era southern rock ala Skynyrd, thus creating an overgrown, bucktoothed behemoth that’ll plant a big sloppy kiss on your forehead just as easily as snap your neck.

Of course, none of this would mean squat in the hands of a less capable group of players, and these boys have got it covered with fine musicianship, tight songwriting and a keen sense of light and shadow: they know when to go full bore, when to bring it down to near tranquility and they inhabit the bridge between the two worlds with ease.

You’ve got your single minded tracks that either rock with sleazy abandon, "American Vermin" and "Hell Goes Thru Hanging Dog," or plod along with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball, "Pillars of Tomorrow, Piles of Yesterday." But when they mix it up, moving from one mode to the next is where Beaten Back To Pure shines. "One Shovel and a Place to Die" opens with aggressively strummed guitar as intro to an incalculably heavy riff that, in turn, shifts to a walking rhythm of power and intent before breaking down to a dual acoustic guitar break as extended refrain. A similar dynamic is found in "Where the Sewer Meets the Sea," a thrashing good time that takes a brief detour to southern back porch territory; lazy and unhurried, the accompaniment for a summer afternoon spent picking off squirrels with a .22 and downing hard lemonade.

And as if to prove that there’s a smidgen of compassion lurking under the gnarled exterior, unlisted album closer "Wretch Like Me" shuts things down in the form of a sparse acoustic ballad replete with distant picked guitar and hushed tones; the vocals barely more than a murmur as they intertwine with the long notes and scrape of brush on cymbal. It’s a shimmery coda that puts ice on the bruising just inflicted. (7/10)

Getting into the music of the instrumental group Grails is like the state of being 4+ years in a romantic relationship: if you don’t make a point of making it your duty to actively and systematically appreciate your partner, the flame will flicker and die in no time.

We liked Grails’ last record, The Burden of Hope (check out the review at the bottom of this one if you’d like). And like that one, Redlight is also a fine collection of pieces that are relaxing without being boring. Grails engages where so many instrumental bands alienate. The textures and flavors are many, from surf rock guitar tones to noisier parts, to atmospheric passages. They all have a sense of lyricism to them, despite a lack of vocals.

The Burden of Hope was a funny record. We could have listened to it in the car all day, and nearly did, enjoying different aspects of it while fondly encountering parts made familiar from previous spins, without getting tired of it. The CD would be perfect for hanging around the living room on a sunny day. And yet we haven’t listened to it since, and have no real inclination to. Redlight provides the same experience. If you get Grails, you have to make it your duty to keep coming back to it, or else you’ll just let it sit and collect dust, not really remembering what you liked so much about it in the first place. If only it had a voice, maybe it could tell you... (6.8/10)

This band does itself no favors. Begin with the artwork: a variety of multiply pierced and vaguely gothic looking vixens festooned with chains, ball gags, collars, restraints, fishnets, and nipples hidden by crosses of electrical tape. Not that this is a bad thing, but it reeks of teenage "look at us, we’re being naughty" attitude. Couple this imagery with the band’s moniker and songs titles such as "Shamed," "Humility," and "Obsession," and you’re going to expect something along the lines of the techno sleaze gala of My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult, or, if you must, the quasi-industrial metal S&M extravaganza that masquerades as The Genitorturers.

Throw the CD in the deck and all that visual stimuli quickly vanishes in a wash of mediocrity, equal parts Rob Zombie and Alice in Chains. To Slavemachine’s credit, there’s not a single bad song (alright, "Little Twisted" kind of blows) on Disfigured Consciousness. On the other hand, there’s nary a great song to be found, either. Each track marches along competently enough, pleasantly heavy at times, groove infused at others, songs constructed with alternating Zombie-esque growls and the down trodden melodic sensibility of Layne Staley.

What’s missing is not so much originality as verve. There are moments. "Crazy" has significant energy. A catchy chorus is to be found on "Mind Over Madness," while an enticingly slow groove locks down "Humility," dragging it through to a fairly impressive breakdown. Ultimately though, these instances are too few and far between. The moments pass quickly and any impetus to wait around for the next one goes right along with it. (4/10)

Evocative name. Puts you in the mind of a battle scarred Nordic wasteland, discarded weapons scattered to and fro, flung out of reach from grasping, lifeless hands. A crimson saturation spreads in every direction over the frost encrusted ground, sluicing over the boots of a quartet of corpse-painted troubadours as they wander amongst the human wreckage, offering their grim and desolate hymns to both the fallen and Odin alike.

Slam this sucker into your CD player while you peruse the inside jacket and rather than the anticipated black metal brrrrr, you’re assaulted by a major slice of post rock sludge accentuated with abundant bits of space where the notes can breathe in the fetid air. Conducted, no less, by four Scotsman come down from the highlands, kilts a-flapping, ready to give their all for William Wallace and freeeeedoooooom (!). Or by four lads from Edinburgh who like nothing better than to get together at the pub on Friday nights for a gentle pint or so. Regardless, who knew?

The Snowblood gang may be on to something with The Human Tragedy. Ideas abound, and if the final execution isn’t always up to snuff, the sheer weight and intent of those ideas are generally enough to carry the day. Their m.o. is the slow build, whether it’s a thick bass rumble, jazz inflected noodling or gentle, arching guitar notes. Tension mounts and, inevitably, that whole "shovel, meet face" feeling detonates in a shower of castigatory percussion, distorted guitar slabs and sore throat roar.

They play the same trick on each track and for the most part it adds color rather than predictability. The collapse of each track is inevitable; the strain derives from not knowing when – could be mid-song, or maybe at the very end, might not even occur in the manner in which you’d expect.

The one inextricable black mark of The Human Tragedy is the clean singing found on several tracks. It’s bad. Not bad as in ill-advised and/or out of place, but bad as in whiney, off key and please never do that again. Consign those vocals to an unmarked grave and add a few other modes of sonic trickery and one might find Snowblood capable of repelling most any attack by man or beast. (6/10)

Rock, meet hard place. Single Bullet Theory inhabits a difficult world. Part Gothenburg, some hardcore, loads of 80’s thrash and a heaping helping of power metal. Not a bad menu to choose from. The problem is that the ingredients don’t mingle all that well here.

The performances can’t be faulted; the playing is aggressive and spot on. What impedes this album’s success are the vocals of guitarist Matt Difabio and the song constructions. Difabio’s got a voice equally capable of low end death growl as it is simple melodics. He gets into trouble when venturing into the power metal realm, missing by a wide mark the range and tenor of a Bruce Dickinson or John Olivia. As for the songs, they aren’t badly written, but most of them try to appeal to a too wide cross-section of the metal base, offering tantalizing glimpses that wind up stranding the listener at an unsatisfying juncture. A blazing hardcore number awkwardly fuses itself to a chorus lifted from Flotsam and Jetsam ("I of the Enemy"), stale nu-metal bounce checks in for a solitary track ("Cold as Stone"), slow, melodic thrash in the vein of Megadeth gets caught off-guard and exits via an unseemly metalcore breakdown ("One Bullet").

They don’t entirely miss the mark every time. "Hollowed Out" strikes just the right balance in its melding of death and power metal dynamics. The double-bass driven attack of "Needle" evokes the best of German 80’s thrash and it nestles comfortably with a nice melodic break and acoustic outro; live, it’s probably a mighty fist pumper. These two tracks alone serve as evidence that Single Bullet Theory have it in them to produce cohesive, quality songs. If they can play to, rather than against that strength and stretch it out over an album’s length, watch out. (5/10)

The fine folks at Southern Lord have seen fit to re-release Goatsnake’s debut album from the out of print oblivion of Man’s Ruin demise; good thing too, as the album deserves perpetuity. As added incentive they’ve tacked on the Dog Days mini-album and a couple of 7" b-sides for those needing to fill in the gaps in their collection. For the info-geeks among you, the booklet contains extensive notes by the band, sharing anecdotes surrounding each of the sixteen tracks on board here. Neophyte or completist, this CD will snare those looking for a kinder, gentler mode of stoner doom.

Dog Days is something of a different affair, being more single minded and expounding on the distinct virtues that successfully melded on I, while at the same time offering some bold experimentation. There’s straight out doom to get you all mopey in "The Orphan," while "Long Gone" and "Man of Light" require nothing more than for you to bear witness to their up-tempo stomp.

Good enough, but Dog Days truly gets down to business when thing go squirrelly. "Raw Curtains" is snail’s paced drag that goes nowhere, a Melvins like endurance test that wins out by sheer perseverance and perversity. Likewise, their cover of Sabbath’s "Who Are You" is one of the oddest and deconstructed renditions in a long, long line of tributes to the godfathers, ranking up there with OLD’s cover of the same song for honors in the weirdness department. Drop tuned, slowed down and impregnated with a string section and sheets of bass drone, it’s nearly unrecognizable. Practically worth the price of admission on its own. (6.5/10)

OK. So your debut album is fourteen years in the making. Plenty of time to fine tune those songs to perfection, nail down the exact sound you’re trying to achieve, choose the ultimate cover art, get the band photos just right. But you’re a black metal band. Names, damn it. You need names brimming with iniquity and satanic intent. So many possibilities: "Count Grimshaw," "Obdurate, Destroyer of Unchristened Souls," "He That Impales Babies on Spikes," "Christkiller" (oops, taken), "Satanas Malfius," just for starters.

However, the brain trust in the Damnation camp has bestowed a sobriquet of awe inspiring proportion on their leader. You are hereby presented with that apex of malevolence: "Insulter of Jesus Christ."

Wha? True, you want to terrorize, horrify and intimidate. Invoke the dark lord. Sacrifice virgins and whores alike. Rip fetuses from their wombs. But for god’s sake please, please don’t use harsh language; humanity can’t handle that kind of trauma.

Insulter. I am so disappointed.

Onward. Destructo Evangelia is another entry into the stark and raw black metal wastelands. It’s an old school affair full of blast beats, guitars set on buzz, down tempo marches and vocals equal parts hoarse shout and over the top dramatics. Think Celtic Frost on the slower tracks, Darkthrone on the faster ones and lay it all at the feet of Venom with dashes of early Emperor sprinkled to and fro. Competent, yet Damnation do have it in them to rouse an icy heart from time to time in the form of a mini epic ("Bloody Vengeance") or a rousing exercise in velocity ("Eternal Black"). Nothing groundbreaking, but if you can’t get enough of the stuff, this’ll keep your anti-Christian fire burning bright through at least the first few days of winter. (5/10)

You can’t make me believe that there is no connection between the release of the curious (to say the least) album by Mechanical Poet and the upcoming Christmas season. Woodland Prattlers is, quite simply, the closest thing to a metal Christmas CD you’ll find (all respects to Notre Dame paid).

Woodland Prattlers is definitely goofy, but the more you listen to it, the better it gets. Certainly songs like "Bogie in a Coal Hole" (yes, we laughed, too) stand out pretty early as really catchy and satisfying. It is especially on tracks like this that you’ll notice the great talents of Mechanical Poet’s singer. Further inspection shows an album whose more musically intricate parts are performed by the keyboard, leaving the guitar to provide the skeleton. Songs like these are roughly in the power metal vein, although they’re more on the rock side, with really big, single kick drum sounds, simple arrangements and no solos.

But the Christmas aura. Woodland Prattlers seems to be about some obscure comic book (we tried to look into it, but the band website never led anywhere) – making this album one of the few concept CDs that actually works. The aura is kind of gnomey, kind of elfy. The bugger on the album cover could just as easily be an employee in Santa’s workshop. The bulk of the album’s tracks are more in a sort of atmospheric music style that sounds like cartoon snowflakes falling on a quirky, mystical land. Harry Potter goes to the North Pole and helps a bunch of gophers. Imagine that and you’re on your way.

A nerdy album deserves a nerdy comparison. There was a Playstation game called "MediEvil," in which you played a British-accented skeleton cartoon warrior. If you know what I’m talking about, then imagine this as the metal soundtrack to that game. Sound good? Get it.

The album does have its weaknesses. The balance of proper songs and filler (albeit nice, enjoyable filler) is tipped too heavily to the latter. Also, and damn me for saying this, the story told by the music doesn’t wrap up in a very satisfying way. The album feels like it needs to be longer, like the end was rushed.

But because of its wackiness, but also because of its uniqueness and grow-on-you-like-a-fungus likeability, we’re recommending this album. In fact, we think we’re going to go and buy the 2CD version with an unreleased MCD. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. (7/10)