review by: Roberto Martinelli

Battlelore’s trite, simplistic take on metal might be at home on soundtrack to a video game in which you control armies of orcs that storm a castle. The vocals are a duel between female melodicism and tuneless male growling-cum-barking that sounds like comedy. Avoid. (2/10)

review by: Larissa Glasser

Ambitious Tolkien-metal that aims high, but like a cock-eyed archer, fails to hit the mark. It’s quite a shame. Battlelore seems to have paid more attention to their costume design than their music. Indeed, Battlelore’s presentation led this listener to believe that they would pick up where Nightwish very recently left off (with the firing of vocalist Tarja Turunen). Unfortunately, the mojo of their fellow Finns has not rubbed off, and Battlelore just sound like a failed Nightwish audition.

One would think that between SEVEN band members, more development could have gone into this material (even if one of them is dressed like an orc from head to foot). However, iniquitous St. Anger chug, mostly vapid keyboard lines, and severely conventional song structures plague this release. Just as a song seems to be going somewhere engaging or AT LEAST interesting, Battlelore shrivels in the distracting shadow of its own one-draft wonders.

A few exceptions, such as the soothing narrative “Elves of Luva,” “Of Orcs and Elves,” and the HILARIOUS “Gollum’s Cry” almost salvage this release, but the reward is fleeting.

All is not lost, however: Battlelore’s hearts are in the right place, and they seem to have a surface understanding of their template. The only suggestion would be to develop their instrumentation and song structures a bit more. To be fair, not everyone can follow the metal that’s been done before without surpassing mediocrity or sounding derivative. But the effort is what makes the difference. (5/10)

No way around it, if you're a metal band and you're from Brazil the Sepultura tag is going to get thrown your way. And in the case of Eminence, who hail from the same hometown (Belo Horizonte) and boast an actual founding member of the Seps (guitarist Jairo Guedz who plays bass here), they're going to have an even harder time forging a Sepultura-less identity.

Let your mind drift for a few measures at most any point during Humanology and you'd be hard pressed to deny you weren't listening to an album courtesy of Max Calavera and Co. But you know there could be worse things than being compared to one of the most important metal bands of the 90's. Eminence, by sheer will alone, manages to present themselves as something more than completely derivative copycats.

Humanology is a stripped down, chunky and groove laden piece of work. An appropriation of Roots era songwriting excised of the tribal influence, Fear Factory's clinical riffing, nu metalism ala Slipknot ("Onefortyfive" is basically a rewrite of Iowa's "Left Behind") all underscored with some good ole in your face death metal. The band's playing is effusive in its energy and well executed, anchored by a propulsive rhythm section and in Wallace Parreiras they have a vocalist with the prototypical Drano scoured throat.

If the band succeeds for one reason alone it's their fealty to the almighty riff. Each track is laden with them and, almost without exception, catchy as all hell. The general approach to each song is an intro that sucks you in immediately and then alternates back and forth between a number of different recurring riffs that stick to the ribs. What keeps the tracks from devolving into hackneyed nu metal workouts is the incorporation of death metal tropes that temporarily obliterate the bouncier sections in a storm of blast beats and guttural barks.

Criticisms? At an hour the album drags on about twenty minutes too long, a number of the tracks basically redundancies of others; there's a tired familiarity as one track bleeds into the next with little distinction. They do show the ability to veer off the beaten path with a few brief instrumentals, a track that veers just short of grind ("Greedy as a Pig") and the willingness to go for the strange, as on "Leech 9": a razor edged scorcher that gets sideswiped by guitar effects that sound like a mechanical voice filtered through a plastic tube and exits in a blaze of thrash metal reminiscent of the best that Germany had to offer back in the 80's.

Solid fare, a decent shot of the wholly familiar wrapped around the contours of a new face. (6.5/10)

All hail Polish death metal!!! Mutilation got their start in Miechow, Poland in 1991, and have been busy ever since. They've recorded three demos between 1992 and 1999, and three full length albums between 1999 and 2004, and have endured several lineup changes.

Conflict Inside, their latest release, is quite typical of Polish death metal bands. Even though its rather formulaic, at least it’s a formula that death metal fans like. Heavy, churning riffs, slow and dark in some places, then speeding up and moving on to whirling solos. The drumming here is nothing fancy, just standard death metal drums, and the vocals are, for lack of a better term, ok. Regular growls, nothing that grabs your attention and makes you go WOW, listen to that guy. But they certainly aren't bad and don't detract from the album.

Compared to death metal bands from other parts of the world, these guys are great, but they pale in comparison to their other Polish counterparts, Behemoth, Vader, Lost Soul, etc.

Overall a very good album, death fans will want to grab this, but only if you have money left over after buying the newest releases from Behemoth and Lost Soul. (7.1/10)

Annihilation of the Wicked, Nile’s fourth record, seemed to have a lot less fanfare leading up to its release than the last two. Perhaps it was foreshadowing, as you could rightfully accuse the death metal pioneers of running through the motions. But what motions! "Running" is indeed the key word here, as the musical athleticism remains in place despite the changing of the guard behind the kit from quintessential death metal skinsman Tony Laureano to far less heralded Greek George Kollias, whose main band, Nightfall, has not to my knowledge released an album anywhere near as intense as any single moment in Nile’s history.

But Kollias fills in perfectly as the Nile boys, who are finally joined on record by their (then) longtime bassist, Jon Vesano. And while you could make points that the production overall is a bit clearer and crunchier, Annihilation of the Wicked is essentially the same record as In their Darkened Shrines, except less adventurous perhaps (at least they’re not ripping off Candlemass anymore). There is a smidge of progression and development on "Lashed to the Slave Stick," which features more melodic metal riffing in exchange for the trademark wall of sound guitar onslaught that Nile has made their trademark, but it’s by and large the same intense, signature product as ever.

On the upside, it’s still Nile through and through, so while Black Seeds of Vengeance will remain their most important work, fans of the sound won’t be disappointed with Annihilation of the Wicked. Think of it as Nile’s version of Mayhem’s Chimera: a near dead halt in progression and exploration, but maintaining the essential core of what the band does. And like Mayhem, Nile is as seminal a metal band as they come. (8.2/10)

This Danish prog-something metal unit has been trying to get a full-length package together on record since 1999. After much effort, their debut album Tales From Sadness is upon us, and while their offshoot brand of prog metal may not be a Dream Theater, Angra or Time Requiem, it still pushes multifaceted limits for its own cause and creates an enjoyable listen that corrals two generations of metal into one breathing entity that facilitates harmoniously.

"Moot-Lie" is interesting with its blend of pop rock fusions from two different eras of metal amidst a rocksteady tempo that frolics with double-timed, intermittent hammer beats from Enrico Fabris. It takes on Dream Theater-like prog metal airs with articulately woven guitar and synth solos, which adds to the confusion about this song. It’s artful beyond a simplistic rock jam or a thrash-laced thumper. Such confusion is actually good, as it keeps one guessing throughout its duration.

The following track, "Faithland," maintains a similar blueprint by utilizing contemporary stomp metal motifs (including a rather heavy breakdown) in the same breath as majestic period metal, as vocalist Claudio Coassin delivers James Labrie and Geoff Tate-like vocals as well as some nifty keyboards. Guitarists Luca Michael Martina and Matteo Di Bon are pure fret friars with their melodic rhythms and above-average solos.

"The Experiment" picks a decidedly prog structure that makes it one of the most concrete tracks on Tales From Sadness. The monster riffs on the verses set up the bountiful and tuneful choruses that luxuriate in a seamless transitional flow. "Denied Recollection" bravely blends a homogenization of Soilwork and Gamma Ray with its heavy chugs and terrific solo sections, bridging the generation gap within one construct.

Do I detect a little Yes on the opening to "Chains of Sadness?" I might very well do. By integrating heavy rhythms into this near-ballad, the song is uplifted to powerful heights, while a brief drum machine intro to "Using the Light Forever" teases the listener as it assumes a triumphant, marching blend of Iron Maiden, Arch Enemy and Gamma Ray.

You’ve got to love this European prog metal that has been cropping up lately in the wake of Helloween and Gamma Ray. While the bands may vary in degrees of talent, the majority of them play highly intricate material with a fine devotion to craft and risk-taking. As such, Raintime is a band whose previous trials and slick songwriting have put them in a solid place. (8/10)

Since their last (quality) record, ethnic Indian Singaporians Rudra have honed their style and deliver an album with more conviction. The ethnic elements in Rudra’s self-proclaimed "Vedic metal" – that is, metal infused with traditional Indian instrumentation of some kind – hung around a bit too much on the sidelines in our last review of the band, only popping up very sporadically when the metal had had its say.

Brahmavidya: Primordial I sees a bit more simultaneous inclusion of the ethnic and the downtuned, like Indian percussive elements, but it could still go a lot further. Meanwhile, Rudra is exploring more Vedic compositions, but they are largely as stand alone tracks, which is certainly less challenging than incorporating the two into an utterly cohesive style.

This criticism aside, Rudra is still a band well worth your attention. Their black/death/thrash style brings together the feelings of Absu and Melechesh, and will probably appeal to those who enjoyed the more recent album by Cobalt called War Metal (reviewed last issue). In this respect Rudra is moving forward well while keeping with their established style. The most noteworthy improvements are in the vocals, which now sometimes sound a bit like Enslaved, and the production, which hits harder and is fuller. Stylistically, look for a lot of rattling, thrashy, humming semi-melodic charges.

Maybe Rudra’s biggest positive, original aspect is its aura, that it greatly plays up in its dogged embracing of Vedic culture, which is reflected in their expansive lyrics and liner notes. And unlike Nile, you get the sense that where Rudra is coming from is a bit more authentic, but still romanticized. Cool record. (7.7/10)

Now whether the band's name refers to the actual object, a cylindrical saw used for cutting away sections of the skull, or the act of trephinning (more commonly known as trepanning) is debatable. They're both interlinked and it's a case where you can't have one without the other. One needs a trephine in order to trephine properly. Le savez-vous? Unless of course you want to be make a really huge mess on the kitchen table. But that's a digression best left for another time.

Given what their debut full length as to offer, one would have to go with Trephine (band) as a trephine (object) as the cacophony lying within slices away with seemingly haphazard yet surgical precision. The irony is that trephinning is designed to relieve intense intracranial pressure while leaving the membranes around the brain intact. In their sonic operating theater, Trephine do indeed scrape by that delicate membrane, missing by a nick. Rather than relief though the pressure increases, their sound filled with an overabundance of ideas, time changes, stylistic about-faces and mathematically abstract conclusions that might have you considering an additional hole in the head to relieve the stress this happy lot have foisted onto your already overtaxed synapses.

Eight tracks, but it's rather perfunctory as each absorbs the next making for one intensive forty-minute romp through instrumental badlands. Post rock posturing abounds in the deliberate and arduous skittishness. There's never a chance to get complacent, trying to anticipate what will come next a joke. A mammoth riff will barrel towards you at all speed, stop on a dime and wander off in a proggy haze of picked guitar and jazzy drums. Squelchy guitar noodling spontaneously hardens into chugging thrashed infused rhythms. A counter point guitar duel succumbs to a schizo tribal break of deep rolling arcs buffeted by jagged jaw rattling bass and then, just for the sheer perversity of it all, decides to visit 70's metal terrain just because it's there.

Looking for signposts or the easy path? Go elsewhere. Need you tunes delineated by verse-chorus-verse? Hah, I laugh. Want riffs you can saddle up and ride into the sunset? Try and you'll get thrown to the curb before you even reach the end of the block. Drill you own damn hole and let Trephine overload you with more than you think you can handle. (7/10)

By the virtue of sheer hard work and effort there's a lot to admire about this record. The cover art is great, boasting a woman with a classic art deco face, gun in hand, placed against a Soviet era propaganda poster replete with red saturation and stern factories dominating the background.

The Ryfo Records imprint appears to be the band's own and production duties were handled by guitarist Erik Markarian. Speaking of which, the sound is quite fine: loud and in your face – wind tunnel drums, burly bass and knife edged guitar all turned up to eleven and ready to stun at 100 paces. Sounds good, looks good, self made. What more could you want?

Well, something original and interesting for starters. It sucks to knock an album like this. There's nothing not to like here; it's all very competent.

Problem is there's really nothing to admire, nothing that makes you snap you out of reverie with a startled "whoa!" Atomic Clock sneaks thought the servant's quarters door, bearing nothing you haven't heard elsewhere and executed better.

Superkollider operate from a basic hard rock base. They throw in some metalcore, a little vintage New York / Boston hardcore trappings, some nu metal bounce and coat it all with liberal helpings of Layne Staley / Chad Gray (Mudvayne) vocalizing. It's a strange duality – they sound like all of these things at some juncture or another but not enough of any one of them, nor do they concoct an intriguing enough combination to get you invested. A major part of the problem is Terry Boisclair's vocal approach: gruff, soaring, melodic when he's on, grating, overwrought and generic when he's not. Overall the album plays out as game of spot the influence or guess who's riff they've taken for this or that song.

Two tracks, "Somnambulist" and "Entombed" manage to break though the pall of mediocrity with some aggressive rhythms offset by lilting vocal bridges and a basic take-no-shit attitude that evokes a declawed Pantera circa Far Beyond Driven. Faint praise but it's the best that the band as to offer on Atomic Clock. (4/10)

Each song contained here is deadly serious and devoid of irony. When you couple this with a group of players who are reaching far beyond their grasp in addition to trying way, way too hard, well that's just a tantalizing recipe for disaster now, isn't it? If only there was a morbid car crash rubbernecking aspect to the proceedings. Alas, no. You just sit in wide eyed horror doing everything in your power trying not to laugh.

Which brings us to vocalist and vamp in training Dina Concina. Bear witness as she belts out her tales of god knows what with passion and urgency, all the sincerity in the world and a severely limited range. Her lyrics reveal some of the most mind boggling noxious verse put to paper.

It's like a glimpse into a sixteen year old goth girl's diary entries – she's deep! no one understands her! she feels on a level you can never possibly understand! – and you know, are absolutely positive, that she labored intently over these pearls of wisdom, crafting ceaselessly silly imagery over clumsily metered sing-song rhyme.

Oh, but wait, it gets better, much better. Listen, if you dare, as she tries to play the seductress on "Seeds." Her voice is so emphatically not sexy that any budding adolescent erection her awkward come hither photos might have instigated will quickly wither and die on the vine. Consider that a warning.

The music does little to offset any of that nonsense, a ham fisted attempt at goth rock / metal with some odd choices strewn about. Run, fast, from the funky guitar laying a toxic stench on "Sanity Overthrown." Scratch your head in abject puzzlement at the cabaret number that is "Bogota." And of course, unavoidably, there's the viola: scratchy, buzzing, a mutant refugee from a demented chamber music ensemble flitting in and out indiscriminately from track to track with no regard for any of the other instrumentation. It's the only interesting thing on the album but you want it to find a proper home. Quickly.

Ghost Orgy probably means well, few people are this intentionally cruel. It's only a record after all. At least, as far as one can tell, they don't have an affinity for sharp objects or firearms. (1/10)

Extreme emo! In a stunning turnabout, The Forecast have circumvented emo bylaw number one (check the handbook, it's there) and have blasted the whole lonely boy paradigm in a most daring way: they got themselves an actual, real life, honest to goodness, living, breathing girl in the band.

A wise move? Perhaps. Bold to be sure but one can imagine the copious amounts of frustration that will ensue as the three male members of the band wallow in angst and despair since none of them will have the testicular fortitude to ask her out.

Sure, plenty of other bands have done the boy/girl vocal see-saw, but Shannon Burns' inclusion in the band is The Forecast's trump card. Sharing duties with Dustin Addis, she brings a spunky counterpoint to his genre specific heart-on-the-sleeve earnestness that is more often than not laid over glaringly sappy lyrics. Her range isn't very broad but it's not a negative factor; she seems to have an intrinsic knowledge of her strengths and exploits them for all they're worth. She yells and wails with controlled abandon, on point for the choruses, perfect foil when trading lines with Dustin. Her voice is that of the cute punk rock chick you (and every other guy) long for, who'll flash you a devastating smile just as soon as she'd deliver you a kick to the nuts for looking at her just a second too long.

Bottom line is: if you already go apeshit for the likes of Fall out Boy, The Get Up Kids or even Spoon you'll need to add this to your collection. Plenty of people probably will. For the rest of us there's the still (barely) exhilarating bludgeon of metalcore and in its "we don't need no stinking girls aesthetic." (5.5/10)

Not a southern fried band of miscreants extolling the virtues of grain alcohol, pickup truck sex, and fried raccoon. Nope, the celestial body that governs the ocean's tides and its accompanying light is what's referenced by this Korean troupe of black metal ghouls. And unlike Sword of Darkness, the Vietnamese black metal group by way of Minneapolis, Moonshine actually hails from Korea. And while the album's title is a redundancy, let's give the kids a break. Really now, how supple are you with the Korean tongue these days? Ahem.

Typically, old school Emperor is the starting point: bleak and cold, misanthropic and speedy but infused with a rinky-dink keyboard sound lifted from the first Enslaved EP. It's all lo-fi but with a certain grandeur that belies that flat production. Where Moonshine slips off the mark and delve into other territories is their possible path to greatness. Nestled within the grimness is a gothic affinity which, by no means a sunnier proposition, brings another layer to their attack. A nod to power metal dynamics and the shrugging nonchalance with which they pull off a Celtic Frost styled bit of strange with an opera singer in tow shows encouraging possibility indeed. (5.5/10)

Few would argue that John Petrucci is one of the best guitarists around, technically speaking, and as such there’s no way he can afford his solo release to score any less than average.

Opening with the rather simple yet blasting "Jaws of Life," Petrucci demonstrates a fine sense of melody supported by the rhythm mash of Dave DiCenso and the creative Dave LaRue (Dixie Dregs) who accompany him throughout the album (except on one track). Unfortunately, it does lose some of its momentum towards its end as the composition falls short.

Luckily enough, the second track freshens things up a bit as it incorporates a folk melody into the speedy exercise that also features nicely overdubbed guitars and a balanced interplay of acoustic and electric.

Petrucci’s strategy becomes more and more apparent as you make your way through the album: this is an in-your-face type of thing, with round compositions that are kept on a basic side when compared to his Dream Theater material.

The third track, "Tunnel Vision," starts with a disco-beat that transforms into a semi industrial groove. After some more of the (by now) increasingly annoying speedy showcase one is thankful for "Wishful Thinking," on which Petrucci aspires to inspire with a laid back, romantic tune, only to leave the listener a tad disappointed as his stretching and whistling fail to be as lyrical or as spiritual as the soulful work of guitarists such as Gary Moore or even Marty Friedman. It is no wonder, then, that as the piece evolves, he soon resorts to his well trained asylum of technical tricks.

The album continues pretty much with the same guideline: a balanced share of gentle tunes and shredders, which works best when Petrucci sticks to his written compositions, and usually less so as he deviates from them in favor of a slight experimentation or proving his ultra-fast hands.

Make no mistake though, this is a powerful album that would please guitar aficionados who can appreciate the high level of accurate execution. Its only missing ingredient is soul, although "Animate-Inanimate" manages to deliver some lyrical (and still blazing) passages; perhaps Petrucci, having already established his technical proficiency, might want to focus his training on delivering passion instead. (7/10)

Try to name original stoner releases from the last two years. Now in the last five years. Of course, we all love the dopey doom hybrid of Electric Wizard, Sleep's anthems to marijuana or the newer, quite liberal Queens of the Stone Age albums, but are there many cases like them? No, not at all. Are those the only original bands, then? Again the answer is no. Torche, thankfully, is quite different.

The cover art suggests Torche is gonna be a psychedelic experience, but yet again, the visual aspect lies. If anything, Torche has an urban sound to it with all the elements of modern stoner rock/metal: weed-influenced, fun to listen to, sometimes upbeat and sometimes really doomy (like on "The Last Word"), but it also has pop, rock and sludge elements. It's song based, and really good at that: some tracks will make you say "Wow! What was that?" for sure, and "Safe" is one of them.

Torche do have the Kyuss influence here and there but it's their own brand of music and they are good at it. In this case, shorter is better: it clocks at just under 30 minutes so it doesn't get boring but it doesn't leave you waiting for more as lots of releases do. The songs are short and it's good they are, every one is like a little complete concept making up the whole disc. Lots of one-chord palm muted riffs, but at the same time lots of melodies are scattered through it. The lyrics are remarkable and the vocals are too.

Play it at night, with the lights out and the volume set at max, it'll make a difference. It's trance-inducing almost in the same way Jesu is (in a completely different kind of music): not in the headbanging sense but the nodding slowly sense of the word. It's accessible and easy to listen to: no waves of heaviness, no wall-of-sound, no extreme vocals. Which, again, makes it a perfect album to play loud and just let yourself escape from everything.

Torche is one of those bands that don't have a clear future. They could evolve towards their doom side, they could do it to their faster metal one or they could explore this one even deeper. Whatever they do it'll most probably be worth hearing. Shape-shifting, innovative and, most of all, enjoyable. Essential for stoner fans. (8.9/10)

There's a lot of variety from track to track; there's the first pair of songs that are sludgy with lots of mood and tempo changes, the calm acoustic interludes, and "Buccolision / The Mistaken One – Part II (Geography is Just a Symptom)," which is like some kind of horror movie in just under seven minutes...creepy.

However, the album tends to drag a little bit and it loses fluency in some segments due to repetitiveness. There are lots of dissonant parts that add a somewhat weird atmosphere. It's quite avant-garde, specially because of the odd structuring, including samples, female vocals and sometimes even funeral doom moments.

The guitar work has lots of emotional moments but most of the time it's simple and straight-forward. The vocals are either grunts, screams or clean voice, quite satisfying without being a central factor of the music itself. The rhythmic base is solid and turns the music hypnotic in some places. There are lots of acoustic passages as well as instrumental ones, helping the tracks stick together (even if, honestly, some of them are pointless). The disc is a break from the traditional world of traditionally arranged and intrascendent music. There are no specific highlights except the aforementioned "Buccolision..." but mostly because of the shock value of it.

An unexpectedly high quality album from this French band. For fans of atmospheric sludge, Neurosis and everything doom: a must. For the rest: a strong album from a certainly promising act and a good buy. (8.4/10)

Ah... another unimpressive CD by Biohazard. Yet again the guys release a bland record, plagued by monotonous, basic riffs, lackluster vocals and a definite lack of talent for composition. At least if it was fun to listen to it could be better, but it has the fun value of watching a fridge do its job.

The fact that they aren't hardcore but not thrash either evidences that they can't really innovate; they are in a position where they could be original by mixing genres or creating something of their own, but they just don't do it. The added hip-hop elements are incompatible with the riffs and so you get a confusing mix of genres.

The rapping of the vocalist can get quite annoying after a while, and considering that Means to an End consists of more than 30 minutes of equally bad and unstructured songs, it's a (bad) experience to listen to it completely. There's the occasional good part, namely the instrumental, fast ones with groovy drums, but after them the singer come back and it's simplistic music again. The lyrics are angst-ridden (instead of realistic, that's what Biohazard supposedly wants) and fitting to the vocal style but not the music. No changes, purely formulaic structuring, thousands of different versions of the same riff and the same mood for all the album makes listening to the first track the same as listening to the whole thing.

Their commercial approach is making them sink deeper and deeper, making music that maybe total foreigners to the whole hardcore and metal scenes could appreciate, but anyone a little more into them will find thousands of better bands. It's highly accessible and, well...just that. (1.5/10)

The obsession with all things regal continues on Hate Eternal’s I, Monarch, as the highly noted band again one ups their mark for speed and technicality. Indeed, Hate Eternal has been a technical death leader since the beginning, but one thing that has always seemed to be lacking is songwriting.

I listened to I, Monarch at least four times all the way through. While it was a thrill to imagine the players pulling off their parts, and the music was certainly no burden to listen to, I couldn’t practically tell a whole lot of difference between songs. Starting the album at track one was just as good as starting at track six, and I might not have noticed if you had jumbled up the play order.

But tech death is what tech death does. It’s about the wow factor, and Hate Eternal wows you with the execution and dedication the members of this band clearly have done over their entire lives to get to this point. Derek Roddy is on drums; he’s played with a huge list of essential death metal powerhouses. Erik Rutan is ever the force on guitar, which is oddly second fiddle to the drums in terms of sound... or maybe it’s just that the guitar is so hard to decipher. Whatever, Hate Eternal is nearly in a niche market: those who froth at the mouth for blinding speed, wizard technicality and flawless execution, go for it. If you want variety and engaging songwriting to go along with your display of proficiency, you might not listen to this album all that much. With that said, I, Monarch is Hate Eternal’s best album yet, and if you liked the first two... (7/10)

Trail of Tears is extreme dark metal from Norway. They are one rockstar lookin’ band. Definitely gets points. There are some nice touches to the musical arrangements but I, for one, am OVER this vocal style and am having a hard time getting past it. It really denies the vocalist any individual or personal discernable timber. It’s the growling, seething, burping troll man with jagged rocks in his voice box publicly shredding his precious chords. It just hurts and I fluctuate between wanting to protect him and drown him.

There are parts of this collection that do allow me to listen and hear some of the cool nuance of musical construction and delivery but alas, out from under the bridge here comes Aqualung again with his blunt tool to bludgeon my developing senses. If you like wildly twisting metal pandemonium... this might be right up your dark and scary alley.

What’s up with the weird dissected road kill on the cover? I’m afraid I’m going to have nightmares about this thing. Yikes! (3/10)

Sinisthra comes from Helsinki, Finland. Its members have been on the Finnish metal circuit and have continued to change and evolve from thrash to this very sophisticated melodic amalgamation that is sometimes dreamy, and often downright jaw-droppingly beautiful. The music and arrangements certainly stretch the boundaries of traditional "metal."

Sinisthra are original, agile, and memorable. They successfully put a contemporary spin on symphonic structure. The vocals are smooth, generous and powerful. Jousten packs and refines major torrents of air and has remarkable holding power. If this guy were from the islands he’d be a free diver.

"Completely Incomplete" is a totally rockin’ piece of syncopated badass drummer wizardry. I’m going to turn this up and listen to it again right now!

I think the colder climates lend an organic melancholy to northern sensibility. It’s seemingly less about personal psychological upheaval than about a deeper natural understanding and perspective of life’s glories and disappointments. Maybe in the winter, when things are frozen shut the artist really gets a chance to think and connect to space and time. This seems evident in Sinisthra’s relaxed and confident humanity.

Worthy of mention is the name Sinisthra, which, contrary to what I was connecting to "sinister," comes from the Italian "sinistra," which means "the left side." This represents the creativity, femininity, individuality and the general free thinking pathways of the left hand. Sinisthra is flexing it now – that beautiful left hand. (9/10) (ed’s note: it’s also where the word "sinister" comes from. The left side is the evil side... the side that is not right... the left hand path...)

American band Summon have had many releases in their fourteen years of existence. Two demos and five full length albums in their discography haven't left fans much time standing around wondering when the next album will be out. This is a good thing.

Summon has named among their influences Bathory, Venom, Blasphemy, Beherit, Carcass, Morbid Angel, and Celtic Frost, but they left off the most obvious one, Angelcorpse. They've got a very similar style, blackened death built upon a thrash base. Their riffs and solos are very much in a thrash style, while the underlying foundation of their songs is death, and the vocals are done in a corrosive, fingernails on a chalkboard black style, with a death growl behind it.

Altogether it comes together into a great-sounding, if not innovative mix. Each style has been done a million times before, and several bands before them have mixed the three together. This doesn't mean it's a bad album. Quite the contrary. It's well produced, attention-grabbing metal that doesn't get boring. Each song sounds different from the others, which more of today’s bands should strive for.

Not essential but definitely worth a listen. Grab it if you happen upon it. (7.8/10)

This is great. I was totally not expecting a real girl star with big balls. The songs are empowered and fearless. The arrangements are original and feature surprising programming gems and effects to accent the raw Goth metal edge. Lacey Conners is a real tart and she gets righteously pissed off. Her intention is powerful and exciting. The songs confront everything from politics to war, environmental recklessness, terrorism and, of course, drugs and relationships. Displaying both brash anger and desperate sensitivity, her young, gnarly charisma captures the imagination.

Her creative cohort, Chris Telke,s is a well-versed talent. He is writing, arranging, programming, mixing and playing. He does a great job bringing out the best in Lacey’s voice and milking the diversity and dynamic from every tune. Gotti, the drummer, is a seamless driver for this band. He instinctively knows when to rip and when to hold and build tension.

As interesting as the CD cover is I’d like to see a picture of the band farther forward. It sure did make me dig, however. I really wanted to see these people. After many pages, I find myself staring at a photo of Lacey’s mother who is honored on the back page of the foldout sleeve.

This is a fierce, interesting melding of raw spirit, passion and creativity. It pries into some shady subject matter – never relents and never apologizes. (9.5/10)

The mood and style shifts very well into the Dusk material, which of course would make sense as it was written by the same people with the same general style in mind. Where Aphotic is more in an atmospheric doom style, Dusk is clearly doom/death. One of the nicest singular things about The Slumber (which was originally recorded in 1997) is the very heavy, beefy, crunchy yet clear and powerful guitar sound. However, this very praise is what ironically what detracts from the songs the most, for the great presence of the guitar, along with the greatly chugging nature of the bulk of the riffs, gives the songs a perhaps artificial one dimensiality. Meanwhile, what works the best are the harmonious, atmospheric segues that fit in well with the overall tone of the split.

Past and present, and hopefully future, too. Aphotic keeps threatening to quit. Let’s hope they keep the faith and the interest in making art for the sake of it. (Aphotic: 8/10, Dusk 6/10)

As far as writing for Maelstrom goes, few things are as much a treat as getting the new Drudkh promo in the mail. We’ve loved the first couple albums by this Ukranian side project of Hate Forest, which ironically is nowhere near as good as Drudkh. The first couple records both easily made this writer’s top ten lists of their respective years due to their use of stirring folk melodies presented in a drony, buzzing, repetitive black metal medium that is unique to this band.

Lebedynyy Shlyakh (The Swan Road) is the third record (I think that’s what it says on the CD cover, but it’s definitely not what it says on the side insert...), and it’s promised to be faster, more intense, yet maintaining that folk pride, which is taken even further with the inclusion of some mysterious but highly noted Ukranian folk musicians, we are promised. And I love that album title in English.

However, as much as it seems better on paper, The Swan Road turned out to be not up to par with the first two offerings. Indeed, the music is more rough and "metal," with faster, harder beats and pacing. But what made the first couple CDs so brilliant, the beautiful, cathartic, swaying melodies, have been toned down. The Swan Road is now more of a typical black metal folk record, or perhaps you could say it’s closer to Hate Forest. The vaunted inclusion of a famous folk musician, as charming as we all may want it to be, in fact boils down to an elderly man who can’t sing all that well sing-songing lyrics in Ukranian while he plinks away simply on an exotic-sounding stringed instrument. There are a couple clear highlights, namely the two guitar solos, which are soaring and beautiful in the way Drudkh’s best material comes across.

Now, this isn’t to say The Swan Road is a failure! On the contrary, it’s still a quality accomplishment that comes recommended by us, it’s just in relation to the earlier works of this band, it doesn’t measure up. But anyone who has already got Drudkh in their library will justifiably want to pick up album #3... just make sure to get Autumn Aurora or Forgotten Legends first... (7.5/10)

The general rule is that side projects are often way below the standard of the main bands’ output. But sometimes there are exceptions. For example, I’d much prefer to listen to either of Demons and Wizards’ albums over anything Iced Earth has done in, say, the last 10 years?

Jon Schaeffer will always be about the fast picking. And although you could say that it’s a little tired, you can’t deny that his style and sound is as recognizable as any guitarist’s in metal. Put the two together and you’ve got Demons and Wizards.

If you’re a returning listener from the debut album from five or so years ago, know that Touched by the Crimson King may be a little better overall, but it doesn’t have some of that album’s (what Maelstrom’s own Steppenvvolf would call) "evergreens," which were tangibly due to better (or present) harmonies, better (or, again, present) solos, and more use of chorals, both classical and metal. Still, Touched by the Crimson King is a quality, melodic metal album that has both "balls" and grace. (7.3/10)

Don't try this at home, kids.

Finnish drone / ambient outfit Halo Manash claim their Par Antrai: Vir album to be a holistic piece of visual and auditory symbols. By practicing meticulous work, one is to gradually combine the visual symbols of the booklet with the corresponding tracks, absorb them and assimilate them within his consciousness, until it finally synchronizes with the creation's inspiring energy sources. Then, when the integration is complete, one is to experience the whole, non-dualistic concept of Vir.

Well, those of you who have been experiencing sigil work most know how powerful it potentially is. Being truly engaged in such activity may truly shift one's state of mind for the long term, embedding memes within the gentle fabric of his consciousness.

Now, either Halo Manash are very serious, or very turgid. Giving them credit, thus assuming the former is true, embarking on the meditative work they offer is something to be taken very carefully, after much consideration. Let a dedicated person who is willing to take that venture to review this aspect of the album.

However, such an intriguing effort towards igniting a total experience does deserve much sympathy. Moreover, even a shallower attempt to withhold the essence of Vir proves it to have rather effective, submerging hypnotic qualities: the combination of eerie, stretching mechanical sound layers with organic shamanic drumming and all sorts of sonic utterances does sum up to a versatile yet cohesive, interesting, worthy musical experience, which may consist an actual treat to ritualistic droning ambient fans.

Highly recommended. But please, do assume responsibility for your own actions. (8.5/10)

This is a chilly Nordic gothic tale of awe-inspiring, epic proportion. It is the story of Leif Erikson, the legendary Norwegian hero who sailed north to Greenland in 1000 AD, leaving behind a loving woman who awaits his return. The journey opens with their individual lonely lamenting elegies as Leif pushes off in the old Viking galley, searching for his destiny.

Leaves’ Eyes is a fantastic combination of big gothic metal sound and rich classical interpretation – complete with an orchestra of violins, cellos and kettledrums. Liv Kristine’s vocals are clear, smooth and bell-like as they seemingly reverberate on the pristine white frozen tundra. Her style is unique and dreamlike – reminiscent of Kate Bush or the group Clannad.

I can almost feel the wind change as the journey progresses. Although I would normally not like the cold – there is such love and careful intent in this band you can’t help better understand the crystalline romance of an ice storm on a freezing sea or the magic in a view out an icy window. Effortlessly, the listener can sense the passage of time, maybe even years, while Leif is driven and hammered by an epic melody and an endless landscape. He pushes ahead with his troop of tall, bold, strapping blondes, the prow of the wooden dingy hypnotically slapping the swells of an increasingly cold and scary ocean. Never mind that the guy got lost and ended up in New Jersey. It just goes with the territory of being restless, with a single goal – to get somewhere.

Vinland Saga is a beautiful and challenging piece of art. It goes far beyond gothic metal into the jewel-like mystical world of Liv Kristine’s cultural and historical awareness. It is a saga, craftily made much shorter, filled with nature, romance, love, adventure and icicles. (9.8/10)

As in the Nortt album we last reviewed, the band once again stumbles into the arena with the wrong guitar distortion. Humour me if you will, but the sound is the equivalent of spending a day at the beach and coming home with an orifice full of sand. You try removing that sand without rubbing yourself raw. But, like I said when I reviewed the Nortt full length, if you try your hardest to ignore that particular sound quality (and end up bleeding red between the legs) then there’s a wealth of bleak despair just the way you like it. Wash away the grit and end up with two pretty tracks and two redundant intro/outro tracks. If you want my honest opinion, and you do, then I say skip this unless you’re in a very masochistic mood and go straight to the Xasthur tracks. The distortion just gets in the way of Nortt too much and unless he cleans up his act, then his songs are forever doomed to be associated with the skip button on the stereo.

Xasthur knows where to find the right distortion, but sounds muffled. This is clearly not a big problem coming off of the first half. If you want my honest opinion, and you do, then I say Xasthur is clearly the better band on this split by displaying more creativity and diversity than Nortt. And after getting through the gritty wall of sound on the Nortt tracks the melancholic and deranged atmosphere of Xasthur is just the right antidote.

The riffs that flow back and forth on the Xasthur tracks through the subdued sound are simply amazing and create the perfect atmosphere for a late night session outside, pondering in the dark. The first track has a very uplifting melody hidden within the bleak overtones and makes for a good jump into the isolated and suffocating atmosphere of the second track, which ends on a grandeur note and makes way for the third and final piece that brings the Xasthur side of this split to a calm and peaceful close.

If you want my honest opinion, and you do, then this is a safe buy if you are a big Xasthur fan because it’s not overly expensive and you get at least 20 solid minutes of great melancholy. And if you are also a Nortt fan as well then all is paradise. If not, then beware of the first 18 minutes. (Nortt: 5/10, Xasthur: 8/10)

From the first wave of funeral doom bands (from which we could name Mordor, Thergothon, Funeral, Mournful Congregation...), Skepticism is a name that will always pop up. More than 10 years have passed since the release of their first full length and to this day it's one of the most extreme and epic-sounding metal works.

Skepticism’s demos were not full-blown funeral doom yet, even if they were quality guitar-driven, slow doom/death. With Stomcrowfleet, they took it to a new level by turning the keyboards and organ into a more prominent part of their setup and with good use of military sounding drums.

Leaving the bad production aside (which is, in fact, quite noticeable and even worse than in their demos) what we have here is an almost one-hour opus divided into six tracks that blend into each other.

As it is to be expected, the arrangements and the procession speed turn it into music fitting for funerals. You won't find complicated riffs or technical wankery in here, just agonizing guitars and from-the-catacombs vocals. It has some really odd details like the constant (and annoying for some) background sound in "The Everdarkgreen," making the album not as monotonous as some would say. However, it is that very repetitiveness found in all the record what makes it stand out. All songs evolve accompanied by chord progressions in a linear fashion. This approach makes their songs all longer than seven minutes, while not getting tedious or stale, much like the trick used by Burzum on Filosofem. Also, the vocals aren't used often, instead choosing to use long instrumental passages.

Even if it's not the first release of this genre, it's the one that in some ways defined its sound. As such, it has spawned many "worship" bands and countless ones were influenced by them. Stormcrowfleet is the first one in a series of all equally important Skepticism albums. It's unusual that Skepticism has kept their level throughout their whole career while at the same time innovating with each one, and it's certainly one of those bands that will never take the easy, commercial way. In general lines: a shiver-inducing masterpiece and another one of those essential albums everyone into doom or metal in general should own.