Sinai Beach is a strange name for a band, but strange is often good. Sinai Beach has nothing to do with the Sinai Peninsula just south to Eilat, the most southern town in Israel, a desert-like stretch of dunes and beaches along the Western shores of the red sea.. or does it?

Another tidbit is When Breath Escapes is actually the band's debut full-length, originally released in 2003 by Facedown Records, and is being re-released in the year 2006 by Victory Records, with different artwork and packaging.

What about the music then? Sinai Beach is an intelligent band, with class and conviction, employing socially-conscious lyrics and being labeled by Victory Records as a Christian band (I just lost the majority of readers here, haven't I?). Sinai Beach plays a very powerful metal/hardcore crossover, used often by bands such as Burnt by the Sun (minus the chaotic, liquid structures of the songs), but to my horror it uses the dreaded dual-vocal technique (the brutal, harsh growl, and the mellow, laid-back singing...). It does not work here, not even remotely.

The mellow vocal parts are too much so for their own good, rather serving as obstacles to the flow of music, instead of an anti-climax to the building-up of the power and heaviness throughout the song; these sing-along vocals kill the music, which results in a lame, broken structure of harsh sounds. What could have been a very nihilist slab of radical hardcore, has become – thanks to this dual-vocal technique – an embarrassment to itself.

Fortunately, this horrible idea manifests itself only for the couple of first songs, trailing off and vacating the stage for the big boys to play and do what they do best: crushing the ears with relentless, albeit uninspired, hardcore-ish metal that although ruthlessly punches the ears, does nothing in terms of affecting the heart… (4/10)

Poochlatz is a duo from Israel trying to make their way in the world of noise drone. Victims of Self-Preservation is not all that impressive or innovative. They take a sample, smother it with a ton of distortion, and let it go for a few minutes while they scream nonsense overtop of it. Their intentions may have been to sound extremely evil, but in the end the childish cries and whinnies cause a little un-satanic giggle.

Since noise music (in general) is more about noise than coherence, the instrumentation throughout is chaotic, coming across as not being played consciously. There are recorders that squeal and squeak along with the distortion, which add to the chaos. There are a few samples that are put to good use, like the cricket chirps used massively on "I Got Mice on It," which turns out to be one of the better forays into noise on the disc.

Possibly the most damaging to the disc's sound is the distorted, prepubescent, screaming child vocals. Sure, it sounds quite grim and kvlt if you think about it long enough, but when it comes right down to it, it's just a kid screaming over distortion. If their intentions were to make frightening noise, or something purveying intense torment, they have failed miserably. It's probably not something you would want to listen to more than once. (4/10)

Ed’s note: I dunno, I think some of the most evil screams I’ve ever heard were from kids. They’d make any black metal band proud.

Frankly, I lost all interest in Moonspell after Sin/Pecado; the dead horse called Memorial will not resurrect either the mighty Moonspell, nor rekindle my interest in the band.

Open minded as I am, Sin/Pecado was a futile, if not pathetic, attempt to break out of the Gothic metal stereotype the band had been affiliated with, and create a more accessible sound/style. But all in all, it was nothing but a dry, stale dish, leaving a bitter taste in the mouth after the palate had gotten used to the exquisite flavors left by the beautiful and unique Irreligious…

Since then, Moonspell has released another three full lengths, Memorial not included, and according to rumors it has tried to repent for its selling out, converting its mellowness and accessibility with power and heaviness. Or so they say…

I cannot attest to the above mentioned of course, Memorial being the first thing I've heard from these Portuguese since Sin/Pecado, but I do know, however, that Memorial is a mundane musical effort that lacks anything that made Moonspell a curiosity and a novelty in the realms of (Gothic) metal: gone are the folklore-oriented influences, semi-Eastern passages, the genuine Gothic atmosphere (black and white Bella Lugosi vampire B-movies' atmosphere and the like…), Fernando Ribeiro's deep, velvety, erotic bass-baritone that could melt any resistance still left in a woman and transform her into the queen of the damned between the sheets is nothing but a pale shed of what it once was, only four albums away into the past…

Memorial is a well crafted, melodic Goth/death metal with neither authentic Gothic dark vibes nor the death metal brutality and lunacy. It walks on safe ground (maybe too safe) lacks any experimentation or renewal and is – retrospectively judging – a major step backwards from any accomplishment done by this very talented band through its debut EP and first two full-lengths, which have been – and still are – a landmark in Gothic, folklore-inspired, dark metal.

Memorial is metal indeed: it is not yet another Sin/Pecado, it is in fact semi-heavy and quarter-dark, and comparing this with so much crap being released these days it outshines many, but if adventurous is what your music needs to be – seek elsewhere! (4/10)

With Sodom's latest release, simply titled Sodom, the German thrashers more than meet the expectations set by a high standard of quality metal maintained throughout their career, largely due to frontman/bassist Tom Angelripper's distinct, barking vocal style, distorted bass and apt song writing. Sodom was notably produced by former guitarist Andy Brings in Hagen, Germany with Haan Hartmann as sound engineer. Brings clearly knows how to bring out the best and most sonically effective in Sodom as evident by the resulting 11 tracks.

Sodom is unrelenting and uncompromising a release as one could hope for. They have proven their worth many a time with such indespensible works as In the Sign of Evil, Agent Orange, Persecution Mania, etc, and this release stands up proudly next to the best of them. While it is a logical step from Code Red and M-16, it delivers a bit more dynamic, depth and ferocity. Track six, "Axis of Evil," even has an "Agent Orange"-esque riff.

The album opens with a melodic but sinister acoustic guitar picked rapid fire that is soon joined by drums, and then the force of the entire band on "Blood on Your Lips." The vocals are delivered in an almost whisper-growl, before turning into the familiar Angelripper style. The chorus bears a repetition of the title line "Blood on Your Lips," and the song itself is very much instantly recognizable as distinctly Sodom as a whole.

The tracks frequently feature a speeding, thrashing mad tempo, to a more mid-temp beat, and here and there interspersed with acoustic guitar melodicism, briefly, but effectively, never detracting from the overall aggression apparent on this entire album – rather adding texture without going overboard.

The lyrics are often about war, and sometimes political, such as references in "Buried in the Justice Ground" and "Axis of Evil," that show Angelripper is not afraid to give his opinion on current world happenings. Thus, Sodom contains a more thoughtful take on metal lyrics and in a tangible way encapsulates a period of time in the world at large.

Above all else, this album has the elements that are prerequisite to a truly thrashing, fist banging, metal album. The riffs are filled with the right ratio of nastiness, melodicism, and down-played soloing sense that characterizes Sodom's music. Angelripper's bass propels the rythm along with the unrelenting force of thrash drums, and his voice provides the album’s aggressive narative.

Sodom is very impressive. The band has kept its sound planted firmly in the roots of thrash, while evolving steadily and creating fresh material that rules on record and live. Sodom has maintained their consistent excellence and their latest release never disappoints! (9.5/10)

Hatewar 666 is real action music from the plains of Texas, home turf of ZZ Top. If the double bass drum pace of Gnostic would indicate the galloping pace of the cowboys’ horses, then you'd suffer an acute concussion when attempting to ride one within a matter of seconds.

Gnostic play black fucking war metal and have no fucking patience for fuck all. Vocalist Obliterator is upfront in the mix, while delivering his suppressed screams with vocal cords well rubbed with infernal sandpaper. This is a collection of old material from the period 1997-2002, containing all studio tracks from the Bloodwars of Heretic Supremacy EP, re-recorded demo songs and previously unreleased tracks.

The production sound is uncompromising and brutal in its music and low-fi-ness. Many will hate the last aspect, but I think it works here. The buzzy guitar assaults consist of very impatient throwaway chords, faceless cannonfodder with one sole purpose: kill everyone in sight. Nothing fancy.

Track four, "Riddle of the Nightwatchman," has a distant, minimalistic fairground organ, the only moment when a special touch is added. For the rest, this is a showcase of drummer Lord Vistigum's hyperactive limbs, which seem to go everywhere, as if he'd o.d.'d on energy drinks. If you like Hatewar 666 with it's "fuck everything, let's just go" attitude, you might want to check out the previous disc, Evoking the Demon, to see how they do it live, because it also included film footage of a concert. Some will dismiss this one as being run-of-the-mill product, but after a few listens you might agree that there is something special about Gnostic. It has a thrashiness that reminds me of early Napalm Death glory. It's straightforward, hyperactive, over the top, deliberately underproduced by an equally brainless orc, and it goes on and on and on. A nice example of how bad taste can get good for being bad. (7/10)

There are but two songs on this CD, with a planned release in 2006 through Nuclear Winter Records. This particular Acrimonious, not to be confused with the band of the same name from Chile, was formed in Athens, Greece.

The guitar tone carves its way through the mix, the rasping vocals penetrate fiercely, and the percussion... somewhat tame, yet so distinguishable as black metal... This is, indeed, a generic foray into black metal by a generically named duo. The guitar work consists mainly of powerchords that charge forcefully due to the strength of the distortion and the detuning. The bass is mostly inaudible, though can be made out somewhat if you listen extremely closely.

Although it is average and not overly original, The Dawn of Horns shows good potential. All the basic elements are there. They've got occasional two-guitar harmony rhythms and slower and faster passages. It may be good for the traditional listeners, fans of Darkthrone, etc... But for those seeking a bit more, this is probably not for you. (5/10)

Endstand was a tragic reaction of chemicals cruelly formed from a nuclear puddle containing the most annoying aspects of punk and hardcore.

Endstand sounds like modern punk meets older hardcore. A sound pulled off by some groups has failed here, where the influence is obvious but the sound is unrefined. The songs all follow basically the same path and the same formula. They are riddled with hardcore rhythms and breakdowns smothered with shouts, and that's about it. If you would like to know what the vocals sound like, find an elderly man and strike him extremely hard in the kneecap with a hammer.

The guitars are mixed well and have a spectacular tone; not too distracting yet pretty tough. The guitar playing is also somewhat skilled, and faster paced, but the overwhelming similarity between every single song's rhythm section lacks creativity or effort. Even the drums use the same pattern for most of the songs, with the triple kicks and occasional fills.

The songs are very short, ranging between two to four minutes. This album will stand as an example of what similar groups should try to stay away from, as The Time is Now has no soul. (3/10)

The new release by Ephel Duath is so full of diversity, different genres, influences, sound, it is just overwhelming. It can be somewhat described as jazz fusion mixed with progressive metal and screamo. It goes without saying this is an odd combination, and it begets equally odd music.

The big question regarding this album is this: can something so inconsistent be listened to and enjoyed by the listener who has an average attention span? Of course, "inconsistent" is applied positively when describing this album. There are serious outbursts with distorted screaming for about one bar, which then breaks down into a bit of jazz... which leads into another passage of heavy screaming, and on and on, however there is the occasional instrumental "jam session" with jazz-influenced guitars when they take the bass line for a walk which is coherent (to a jazzy point) and quite enjoyable.

There are so many aspects to the mix, so many sounds coming at you from every direction that it is nearly impossible to pinpoint the production of a single sound for sure. The only sound that is truly consistent on this album is the heavy guitar tone. The guitars have a variety of effects put on when played as a lead, but the rhythms are just regularly distorted. The majority of the rhythm work cascades through jazz chords and scales. The bass lines are so magnificent on this album... they break away from the average single-notes-and-slow-progressions used by most bands today. It's good to see a bassist who can perform such a serious jam over such chaotic music.

A lot of the time, the music seems very spontaneous. This probably puts extra strain on the drummer, who does a great job on the album. He can play very fast when it's required of him, yet also play calmer, more atmospheric sections. Some of the best work for the percussion is on the toms during certain passages of the album, where they are used to make a tribal kind of vibe. The jazz percussion is very fanciful as well, you've almost got to hear it to believe it.

A highly underrated band... I guess people aren't really into the whole jazz metal fusion thing nowadays. Nonetheless, they're worth checking out. It's something original, creative, and highly artistic. (8.7/10)

review by: Matt Smith

Although Fields of the Nephilim has existed for more than 20 years, Mourning Sun is only the band's fourth full-length studio album. Fields of the Nephilim has shrunk to only the single person outfit of mastermind Carl McCoy, who was left in solitude to create what he knows best: an occult piece of dark / Gothic rock loaded with electronic influences.

Mourning Sun is McCoy's rather successful effort of mixing rough-edged, metal-influenced dark rock and the more laid-back "classic" and melodic Gothic rock into a single, coherent and a flowing, seamless album that would satisfy the hard rock and the dark rock fans alike with silky, smooth, semi-pompous, sad melodies and more harsh, guitars and throaty vocals driven pieces that blend well and compliment each other. McCoy's vocals are excellent, dominant and powerful, chameleon -like, almost schizophrenic, constantly changing in character and pitch, at times low and raspy, at other times smooth and silky, always fitting the music they accompany, never an embarrassment to themselves or an obstacle to the sounds that encompass…

The structure of the album is in the form of a musical plot, an epic, that slowly builds-up towards a final climax, and when the final sounds die off, the listener is left with a strong impression a story has been told here: a narrative of sorts that in a way returns to haunt with its curiosities and details, what eventually awakens in the listener the curiosity and the will to indulge in the album's texts that were – in this case – unfortunately, absent…

The crisp, perfect production only helps elevate the abundance of elements, sounds and nuances the recording overflows with, resulting in a rewarding, accessible listening experience for this unique, profound and original-sounding album that will likely appeal to any dark music fan. (7/10)

Everything about Iron Fire is very unoriginal (or is it... traditional?) The group is a mixture between heavy metal and power metal, which long ago may have been the same thing. They touch upon traditional lyrical themes, such as fighting dragons, adventuring, and whatnot. You could say it's heavy metal with a power metal conceptual content, and you wouldn't be far from the truth. There are occasional grunts, usually just for a second and used for impact.

The majority of the vocals are clean and not too high in range, with a vibrato that is fast enough to be annoying. The vocals are in front of the music, so the flaws here are all the more damaging. For example, the vocals are not always on key, and at times the attempted high wails can seem a bit corny, especially when paired with the above mentioned fast vibrato.

The lead guitars work well together, usually playing in harmony with each other in the left and right speaker. The heavy metal rhythms are average at best. The tempos are unnaturally slow for a heavy metal / power metal hybrid. Even the percussion is slow, seeming more like a rock group's percussion than anything heavy. Something familiar to both heavy and power metal are the ballads, and there are a couple of them on this album. Not too original, but highly traditional and entertaining, Revenge may be enjoyed by all fans of heavy and power metal. (6.5/10)

From the land of 1000 lakes and the genetically enhanced musical ability found within its inhabitants, comes a folk/metal group that takes the genre quite seriously. Korpiklaani's songwriting is completely folk-influenced, and there is never a break from the folk.

Pulled along by speedy accordion passages, violins, and fiddles, the music can be very exciting at times. There is a lot of the same type of song writing, with some familiar areas, but of course folk music has its trademark riffs and such that most folk metal bands will use, and more than once. However, the originality in place on Tales Along This Road far outnumbers the stereotypical folk metal riffs and passages... also fortunately, the polka is still intact! There are a lot of new ideas and influences tossed around throughout this album as well, and some aspects seem to be taken farther. The song "Under the Sun" is the closest thing to a ballad you will hear.

The vocals have a surprising consistency between this album and their last two full-lengths. Not only are they the same style, but more surprisingly, they have the exact same sound. The growl vocals have that same shout-growl mixture as heard on previous albums, with the same energy and vigor you've come to expect from their vocalist. Fantastically skillful guitar work, with a more pleasant guitar tone than you might have expected... The distortion is easy on the ears, and the guitars – although being quite audible – sit under the mix somewhat. The percussion is pretty quick, but there is never a blastbeat on the album, and barely any constant double-bass... They chose more of a thrashy approach to their percussion. It works well with the sound, whereas overdone percussion could have resulted in a muddy or gilded sound.

This album is definitely worth checking out, especially if you like groups like Finntroll, Elvenking, Equilibrium, Ensiferum, and the like. (7.5/10)

Krisiun’s version of the Jekyll and Hyde duality is being nothing short of a rabid spectacle live, but putting out really sterile, bland albums. The last real stab I gave this band was for Ageless Venemous, which, although played at very high speed, in fact came across as a static bore, largely in part to simple riffs coupled with vocal phrasings of the growled nursery rhyme variety, unchanging tempos, and drums that contained all the brutality that a medium-duty typewriter could muster. Dabbles in subsequent Krisiun recordings that came across the Maelstrom desk yielded similar impressions.

It’s time to start over with AssassiNation, the first truly successful album this trio of Brazilian brothers has put together in terms of perfectly marrying clarity with pummeling heaviness.

Gone is the nursery rhyme syntax; in its place are vocal placements that play more off the music than following along with it in the most basic way. With that said, the vocals themselves aren’t exactly dynamic, serving the music best as another rhythmic element. Alex Camargo’s performance can unfortunately provide a bit of a comic element at times, most notably on "Bloodcraft," whose chorus sounds like "black crap is a black shit" over and over again (that’s not what the lyrics actually are), ironically providing for a greater degree of memorability... and in all fairness, the vocals are delivered well in this song.

The sound of the drums has been vastly improved on. The trigger samples now feature both tremendous attack and a deep, resonating wetness. The guitars and bass are fuller and thus far more apt at conveying the massive pummeling that Krisiun has always set out to do on record, but hasn’t really been able to do, until now. The solos are ever pulled off in concentrated doses of break-neck speed, which will provide even more treats in seeing Moyses Kolesne execute his solos of ubermenschian proportions live.

Stylistically, AssassiNation is super sped-up, old-school death metal presented with the choicest of today’s high-tech production toys. The approach to the songwriting is rather singular, even though Krisiun has graduated from basically a one-trick pony to an animal with one or two more... but what tricks, man. (8.5/10)

review by: Matt Smith

Leiden is a dark Goth metal band. Their songwriting seems more calculated and with a better approach than other bands of this genre. The compositions range from a steady rocking with melancholic violins, soft electronic beats and digital sequences, to an atmospherically evil, deep sound brought on by the mechanical rhythms and heavy guitars. There are very brutal and dense death grunts throughout the album, against more soft and pleasant female vocals. The growls work good to forge somewhat of a doom-like sound, but the female vocals, which sometimes seem too flat or off key, sound overly corny at times.

The songs flow very well together, causing a smooth listen clear through without too much distraction. At one moment, you could be listening to a soft passage... Thoughts of security and drowsiness would float through your mind... And before you know it or have any time to prepare, your mind is assaulted by chaotic death-influenced metal. Then, if this album weren't varied enough already, Leiden drops you from the brutal chaos into a piano ballad fronted by female vocals. There is something here for everyone. The instrumentation is pretty technical, and overall presentation of the album is very polished and creative.

Is this the best goth metal band out there? No. But they are definitely one of the better ones. A band that has toured with Epica, After Forever, Leaves’ Eyes, and more almost has to be worthy of a listen. This being only Leiden’s second full-length release, there is even more potential and good expectations in place for future releases. (7.2/10)

I’m only a casual Sodom fan. I’ve got some of the German thrash icon's records, and have enjoyed albums like Agent Orange, M-16, and Code Red pretty well, but I wouldn’t call myself a fanatic. With that said, the Sodom dual-DVD set Lords of Depravity, Part 1 is not only a lock for the best band DVD of the year, it’s also the greatest music-oriented DVD I have ever had the pleasure to witness.

The set is divided into two distinct disks: Historical Depravity, a Sodom biography from the years 1982-1995, and Live Depravity, a collection of 22 songs played live at various large venues during the years 2003-2005.

Although the focus throughout the DVD set is naturally on Tom Angelripper, his band, and the supporting cast of characters through its history, the real star here is the person who edited the whole lot. This is no more so than on Live Depravity. It’s become more and more standard that live albums have incredible, high-fidelity sound, and there’s no deviation from that here, as the clarity and power of the performances are superb... almost like it’s taken directly from the studio recordings.

The irony here is that part of what makes the live DVD so impressive is also what you might decry about it, namely the dubiousness of what is coming through your speakers and what was actually performed. Two of the songs in the set are video collages of three+ performances of the same song in different locations. So Angelripper will be belting out "Among the Weirdcong," sporting a scruffy beard on a lit stage at night, and then it’ll cut to the man, clean shaven, at an open air festival in broad daylight, and then back and forth again and again. In contrast, it’s clear that although the sources of the video footage varies, the sound track is taken from only one source; so what makes the end result such a marvel is the extreme care that the editor took in making every note, drum fill, vocal, and even audience reaction to be perfectly in time and sync with the song. Contrast this with something like Emperor’s Emperial Live Ceremony, which has a section with the sound of a huge drum fill that isn’t performed on video (despite the video and audio allegedly being from a single source), and you begin to appreciate on what goes on behind the scenes in making a proper, believable product.

At first, I scoffed at the collage, thinking it made for a pathetic excuse for a representation of a live performance, and rather for some manner of smoke-and-mirrors video. You might think so, too, and wouldn’t be wrong. However, I’ve changed my perception, as indeed any video is but a *representation* of a live experience, and in the end, this is all meant to be entertainment. In this sense, Live Depravity is the epitome of the word for this medium.

Now, the other 20 songs on the set are not collages. Like the bits and pieces that make up those two particular tracks, the footage is spectacular, with outstanding shots of all three members of the band, taken from all the angles any fan could hope for. The tracks jump around and return from venue to venue, and the lot is punctuated effectively with shots of the band behind stage or in transit between tours. There’s just enough crowd participation and interaction worked into the mix, the highlight being "Die Stumme Ursel," when Angelripper trades his bass for a blow-up sex doll, and jumps into the photo pit to perform the song. The quality and consistency of the songs are again not only perfect, but uniform, renewing the questions about the actual source of the audio. Just let it go and enjoy, already.

Historical Depravity benefits equally as well from the tremendous editing and pacing job. From setting the scene on the area of the thoroughly blue-collar, mining town in Germany where Sodom grew out of, to each of the band’s demo and studio recordings, music videos, and major live performances until 1995. The pacing is never rushed, and each chapter is given its proper attention and time. The extensive interviews with a very large list of people brings so much color to the story – there are interviews with as many characters in the Sodom tale as you could hope for (from ex-band members to former work buddies) except for those who are either dead, or in the case of guitarist Strahli, were suddenly thrown in jail and were never heard from again.

This patchwork of narrative, live, historical footage and photos, extensive companion booklets for both the live and biographic disks, and interviews make for strong non-fiction drama. The engaging story goes along from genuinely funny recollections (like the origin of how Tom Angelripper started playing bass, to mildly unsettling episodes, like the entire collection of segments with ex-drummer Chris Witchhunter, which are shot in rather foreboding light, with the frighteningly drunk, poorly aged man seemingly always holding a full bottle of beer, and which culminates in an abrupt end at his getting angry and threatening to smash the camera upon being asked why he was kicked out of the band more than 10 years before).

Conforming to the rock and metal stereotype, alcohol indeed has a strong role in Sodom’s existence, but unlike the majority of band documentaries that feature this dependence in a sort of puerile, embarrassing light, all the elements presented in Historical Depravity are done with the utmost professionalism. Any sort of uncomfortable or embarrassing episodes are purely for the purpose of advancing the story, which is overflowing with so many narrative gems that trying to recount all the highlights would take pages.

This DVD set is so fine, that even minor flaws like clunky animated segues (but give the guys a break, already. Top quality animation costs big money), subtitles (the entire documentary is in German) that often whizz by far too fast to catch, or how the subtitles consistently misspell Harris Johns’ name, are so trivial in comparison to the overall quality of the Lords of Depravity, Part 1 that they are rendered null and void. I simply cannot wait for part 2. If you are any kind of metal fan at all, you owe is to yourself to get this DVD set without fail. (10/10)

What a worthy title for a band that forces you into their domain upon infliction of hearing their new album. Blistering solos, rabid guitar rhythms, throat-cutting vocals, and relentlessly brutal percussion flow freely through this prog death metal opus.

The vocals are so magnificent, utilizing grunts and screams to heighten results. Unlike the usual death metal protocol, the vocals here are not too loud as if to smother the sound. Instead, they are at a more held back volume and have good clarity throughout. They seem to be focused more in the middle of the mix, with the hefty guitars panned mostly to the left and right, although not completely as to make them closer to the listener. The crashes and hats take the place where the guitars would usually be, creating the illusion of wideness.

There are many styles and riffs played throughout the album. First off, there are shredding leads that would put death metal pioneers Death to shame. At other times, there are technical (and somewhat typical) death riffs, in all their pummeling glory. The album sounds like an all-out musical rampage, without holding back. The extremely fast blastbeats and double-bass are very impressive.

This group is so hateful and grim, that you will be lost in confusion afterwards, asking yourself, "Why can't we all just get along?" And the answer is simple: because if we all got along, groups like this may not exist. (8/10)

If insanity has anything to show us, this album is the peeping hole, an aperture through which madness seeps (or we crawl towards it), a corridor in a lunatic's mind down which we stroll and try to understand the incomprehensible…

If music has got still a meaning, if individuality and evolution and experimentation are all still valuable terms in the realms of the art of making sounds, then anybody who still holds dear these values should embrace this gem of psychological darkness, of many illusions and nerve wrecking mysteries…

The Ruins of Beverast is a one-man-project wrongly hyped as black metal; its mastermind is an individual by the name of Alexander von Meilenwald (thank God it's not yet another of those stupid black metal pseudonyms) who had played drums for the defunct German band Nagelfar (in addition to the other, lesser known bands Graupel, Heemet, and Kermania) before going his own way – a road much, much less traveled…

Unlock the Shrine (Reliquary of the White Abyss) is really nothing but a mindfuck; it plays tricks on the mind, it punishes and eludes any categorization and no one can really put a finger on what this beast of an album really is, after all. The album defies any conventional black metal structural rigor, for it is fluid, ethereal; it does not sound like anything black metal has offered till now, thus it cannot be pigeon-holed as such, because classifications are based on a certain knowledge of something that already exists: an order, an ideology, upon accepted rules, while The Ruins of Beverast defy all these. It creates music that is an outlaw in terms of black or any other subgenre of metal; it spits on laws, rules, regulations, it is a free spirit whose – as above mentioned – sole purpose is to fuck with one's mind, or with the collective mind... So how can anyone label a style of music that has, more or less, invented itself, evolved and has become a supreme and singular entity as exquisite as anything exquisite? How do you label the unlabeled, how do you call a thing that has got no past reference to anything you're familiar with?

Unlock the Shrine (Reliquary of the White Abyss) was originally released in 2004 by a German obscure label called Van or Wod-Van records, now surprisingly (re?) released by the American Battle Kommand label, a move that gives an opportunity for the masses (yeah, right…) to get acquainted with this gem of dark light that had been originally – as I understand – pressed and distributed in a limited quantity in its initial incarnation.

Even though the release shares some mutual aesthetics with black metal – the harmonies, the guitar sound, the production, some of the vocals, the sinister atmosphere – it is, in the end, a recording like nothing out there and due to lack of broader spectrum of classifications and definitions in the language, this very limitation prevents even a potent writer to describe literally the music contained herein.

If you're a rabid fan of the recent work of bands such as Blut Aus Nord, Negura Bunget, Lurker of Chalice, Esoteric's middle-era albums and the suicidal crazy shit done by Dark Tribe, Weakling, Silencer et cetera, or you're the kind of person who is constantly looking for weirdness, novelty and experimentation in (metal) music, you should check out this unique piece of art. (9/10)

The solo project of Isis' guitarist Mike Gallagher takes the listener into an excursion through abstract landscapes of droning sadness and melancholic post-rock, repetitive, almost hypnotic and epic music (epic in a very stripped-down, primordial manner) devoid of human vocals and desolate. Oh, the desolation…

This album, if anything, reflects emptiness. Vast, mammoth nothingness with which Gallagher fools around and uses as his boundless canvas on which he applies grey hues, all nuances, delicate, serpentine, stealthily wriggling their course into the psyche. Tranquil but malignant, the apparently simple guitar strumming, the constant droning effects in the background and the void manifested by a magician's hand, generate a doom-ish, foreboding atmosphere not to be found too often in music; sonicscapes that grow on the listener, envelope, devour…

There are hardly any drums, if at all (do I hear in the distance a metronome of sorts? A hollow, orphaned beating rhythm generator?), and the whole album sounds like a non-acoustic version of a neo-folk project taking their art into the extremes of despair and sadness.

I actually had to sit through the entire album and listen to it all, reluctant at first, mesmerized afterwards. This is a form of art rare to be found these days, it is gentle as well as thoughtful and humane, and an anti-thesis to pomposity, over-the-top production and execution; it is the ameba of music, a single cell, simple, rare, effective and captivating. Not for the average metalheads, whoever they might be, this album is recommended for the patient and the profound souls who seek for the essence of art within music. (7/10)

Just as the band name implies, this group is a dark monstrosity of demonic proportions, with mesmerizing death metal breakdowns, speed-powered passages, scream-smothered outbursts of pure hateful brutality, and a percussion performance that adds to the excitement of this somewhat original death metal release.

Malignant Monster are not all about speed. They seem to have an appreciation for thrash and melody. A full-on thrash will suddenly be halted by the harmonious squeals of dual guitars, surrounded and caressed by a soft, bright string ensemble. Sometimes the song writing can seem a bit too shallow and pedantic, which is probably the largest drawback of the album, however there are occasions when the group simply shines throughout the album.

The growls here are strong and extremely present. There are times when they are held out for a long time, or layered heavily to make a lot of noise. The growls are good, and being layered only makes them better. This album is not only very listenable, but quite exciting as well. (6.5/10)

Empty City by Tor Lundvall is a great work of ambient music alright, but with what intentions? The album’s artwork (also painted by Lundvall) appears soft, somewhat out of focus and generally calm. The music, although sounding somewhat calm as well, also sounds more malevolent. Lundvall has claimed to grasp an influence from certain paintings that are now featured as the artwork for the album, as well as certain cities in the Northeast.

The music keeps a steady, sampled beat, accompanied by various bells, synths, and other samples. The sampled beat sounds the same for each song, like a detuned snare-drum sample... similar to the sound of a small explosion. Occasionally, humming will fill the sound, or an extremely soft and warm piano, or very light strings. There is a sense of some vocalization within the music, but it is so quiet and reverberated that it is barely audible. Indeed, ghost ambient was a good phrase when describing the sound of this foray into ambient music.

The tracks are rather short, ranging between two and three minutes. The ambiance is displayed throughout the length of each song, sometimes building to a climax, although a very weak one that is barely noticeable. In other words, there is a lot of repetition throughout each song. The music is very calm and relaxing most of the time, but occasionally some strange samples penetrate the sound, causing you to flinch. The music does not give the impression of an empty city, or even an empty town, and rather sounds more dreamlike in presentation.

So what are the intentions of this music? An accompaniment to Lundvall's paintings, or are the paintings an accompaniment to the music? Both are equally creative, despite not seeming so relevant to each other. (6/10)

Our love for Better Than Raw and our curiosity as to why it’s being re-issued exist rather in spite of one another. On the one hand, here’s one of the best albums that Helloween has ever put out – Michael Weikath, in his interview with Maelstrom after the release of Rabbit Don’t Come Easy, concurred – but on the other, it’s not like it’s so terribly old and in need of re-mastering.

This whole business of getting unsuspecting metal fans to buy an album they already have under the guise of it being "re-mastered" can be an ugly, sordid thing, particularly when the original and re-tooled versions sound identical. And Better Than Raw has been out in "re-mastered" format for years now. We asked Weikath what the deal with all this re-mastering and "new artwork" was. "Mere crap," he replied, adding "treacherous" and "lame." "The masters we had were already digital and already as good as can be."

Indeed. Buyer beware. Your original copy of Better Than Raw is sounds EXACTLY the same as any subsequent versions. That is, if you don’t listen past track #11...

The incentives to buy the expanded edition lies in four bonus tracks (and an expanded booklet with a mini-interview). The two studio b-sides, "Back on the Ground" and "A Game We Shouldn’t Play" are quite fine as such. The live cut of "Perfect Gentleman" is a bit of fun, and the Uli Kusch drum solo is a good time for what it is. The art remains the best, most professional and eye-catching work to grace a Helloween record.

But the main event is rightfully the album itself. Light years better than the album’s predecessor, The Time of the Oath, Better Than Raw contains a skillful mix of songs that range from the opening rager "Push," to mid-tempo rockers like "I Can," to the irresistibly sing-along of "Falling Higher," to the Black Sabbath Spirit Caravan"-flavored "Time," to the heaviest, most technical song the band has ever done, "Revelation" (one of this reviewers all-time Helloween faves). Another particular standout is "Laudate Dominum," a song written entirely in Latin and with a chorus that evokes some manner of reverence for old, classical melody.

What’s significant about this melange is that Helloween manage to make just about all of them an engaging experience, either with tremendously appealing choruses, melodies, or tempo shifts. Absolutely all the tracks on this album benefit from a stellar, full production with tremendous bite and power in the vocals and guitars, really making The Time of the Oath seem like a sad-sack sonic experiment gone awry in comparison.

Of course, if you want a procession of power metal anthems, you might be left wanting. For that, stick with Walls of Jericho. By this time, Helloween had progressed, leaving their speed metal roots largely behind. But where the first couple Andi Deris-fronted albums floundered in the reduction of speed and intensity, Better Than Raw does a superb job, and sees the best gelling together of Helloween’s longest lasting line-up in the four albums that they would put together. Better Than Raw is a great time through and through, abounding with hooks, memorability, and tremendous performances. (9.2/10)

Disclaimer: Wonderland’s Follow Me is about the wussiest, sissiest example of European power metal that you might be able to find anywhere. Even *for* this style, it’s totally wimpy, making it like the king amongst pansies. There is absolutely nothing heavy about this band: dance club keyboards, full but light production, lots of sensitive songs, and choir boy/diva vocals. If you’re looking for machismo and actual power, this ain’t it.

With that said, Follow Me has some pretty great stuff on it. Now that we’ve lost the testosterone junkies, the rest of you might like to know that the sissy aspect of this band’s material is in fact where its originality and interest lies. This is most prominently the case in two areas. One is the keyboards, which have a gay dance music quality to them, like beautiful and delicate drops of crystal rain that gorgeously shatter with brilliant and reverberant melody. The keys shine the best on the faster paced songs, like "Raise Your Wings," "Last Time My Memory," and "Call of the Dawn," where they fit in wonderfully with the harmonious guitar melodies, clear, complementary bass guitar, and distinct, busy, yet not sonically aggressive drums.

The second element that makes this band interesting are Alexx (yeah, one "x" away from being a porn star) Hall’s vocals. Now, it’s a common thing that power metal vocals are high pitched. Although Wonderland certainly doesn’t deviate from that, what’s unusual about Hall – who looks like he could be on the cover of this month’s "Out" magazine (the bass player’s got next) – is that where so many power metal singers’ highs are in a falsetto, Hall’s sound like his natural, normal singing voice. This makes for an unusual and refreshing delivery, deviating from the more common instance of someone pushing up on his higher register, to someone like Hall who isn’t forcing his voice and going about his work effortlessly.

At its up-tempo best, Follow Me abounds with energy, catchy songs, and concise instrumental segues. The lot is harmonious and in key. However, where the album dips noticeably is during the slower songs, which lose much of the band’s flair. Perhaps there’s no other way to put it, but the slower numbers are just TOO wussy, even for those whose sensibilities are inured to the wimpy sounds of Euro power metal. The gusto is lacking, and the songs become much less engaging and catchy as a result. Still, it’s not like they’re suddenly terrible, or anything, but Follow Me’s track listing has its clear winners and also-rans.

In the end, the originality and style of this band is too great to be dismissed, and even though you wish the band’s greatest assets would shine through the whole record, Follow Me is an album that we recommend to those who don’t require all their metal to be as hard and heavy as can be. (7.1/10)

There's one rule that has always worked: if it's Boris, it's worthy of a 10. They could play polka and it'd still sound as awesome as it can get.

Japan's Boris is without a doubt the leading force in both Japanese metal and the global stoner scene. The main difference when compared to other bands of the same style is one, and obvious: experimentation. They've played lots of different styles without ever lowering their quality or getting commercial.

If you've heard their previous albums, you know they never make the same album twice, so the radical change in Pink is no surprise. This time it's a comeback to stoner/doom (yes, a little bit like Heavy Rocks) but with lots of drone and groove added. And, well, this album is just what stoner bands should aim for.

What makes Pink sound like it does, oddly enough, is the production. It's easily the loudest and most saturated Boris album to date.

Think of it as a mix between Boris and Guitar Wolf, minus the rock & roll propaganda. If you've heard Guitar Wolf's Jet Generation, you know what to expect production-wise.

The songs range from melodic, post-rock-influenced drone like "Farewell" and Black Sabbath/Melvins-influenced jams to feedback-based drone (see "Just Abandoned My-Self"). What's common to all of them is the astonishingly heavy guitar tone of Wata, the laid-back kind of technicality, the trademark vocals of Takeshi and the impressive drumming of Atsuo.

As intense as it is because of the production, atmospherically it's probably their most simple album yet. Instead of the complex atmosphere changes of Flood, Pink carries a psychedelic sound, even through its genre changes, for most of its running time.

Pink is one of Boris' best albums, and, no doubt, one of the best albums of 2005. If you haven't heard their other stuff, Pink would be a good start. If you have, then you'll surely love this album. (10/10)

Desolate North could be described as a mix of funeral doom and ambient, with the inclusion of what could have been a really good idea: atypical instrumentation.

And it's yet another case of an album getting absolutely ruined by some big fat errors:

A - The guitar tone. Simply, it's horrible. Don't know if it's the production or the guitar itself, but it comes out sounding way too ethereal and without a real "body." So while you're expecting crushing heaviness, you only get ambient-like, synth-sounding guitars that don't fit at all.

B - The drum programming. All the album uses the same cymbal every beat, and it's not a really pleasing sounding one. Even if it was, after the 1000th time you hear it, it'll bring the serial killer out in you.

C - The production itself. Sure, it's necro and cult and all to record in a cheap way, but this kind of funeral doom needs a pompous production. Refer again to points A and B.

It's sad, because compositionally, Desolate North is way above average. The intros and interludes are tastefully done, some sounding really medieval. The keyboard parts in the actual songs are good too; same goes for the random noises over them. The clean guitar rhythms are really atmospheric and could surely replace all the distorted guitar ones. The vocals are special as well, even if kind of low in the mix.

So, the so-called "open-minded incorporation of traditional instruments such as a harp and the Native American flute" would have been fantastic... if you could actually hear them as traditional instruments. They sound way too MIDI for one to pay much attention to them. Sure, they most probably were played well, but the production just destroys them. Again, pompous ideas deserves a pompous production.

So until there’s a re-recording with a new guitar, avoid Desolate North. (2.95/10)

It's hard to know how an album will be with members of Carpathian Forest and Green Carnation. Both bands have released great stuff in the past, but nowadays are fairly uninteresting. And it's not because of lack of talent, but most probably due to overused ideas. Well, you could situate Chain Collector right in the middle: it's not as brilliant Light of Day, Day of Darkness, but it isn't as boring as Carpathian's Forest newer albums either.

Stylistically, it's a mix of In Flames (both eras of it, oddly), Nevermore and little bits of newer Windir. The good stuff resides in the old In Flames-like parts and the Windir-like parts (see "Hierarchy of Murder - Code of Silence"). And sometimes, ugh, there are some horrible parts resembling a nu-metal band. If you forget those terribly cheesy parts, The Masquerade is a good, enjoyable, but not brilliant album: while overall not highly impressive, it's a tightly played album that won't make you puke like many new Gothenburg-styled bands’.

The Masquerade is pretty vocal-centered, having two alternating vocal styles: Gothenburg-sounding mid-pitched death growls and mid period Arcturus-like clean vocals. While the death vocals are awesome, the clean vocals are pretty lacking in some parts, though fitting most of the time.

The guitar work, as mentioned above, has three kinds of riffing: a typical early Gothenburg one, post-thrash, and kind of Viking sounding one. The first one is...yes, you guessed it, In Flames/Dark Tranquillity worship. The second is downtuned nu-metal influenced grooves, the ones you'll surely try to ignore. The Viking-sounding ones are pretty much like the harmonies in Windir's last two albums, but far below the compositional brilliance of Valfar’s band; but still good.

If you’re impervious to deja vu, then you’ll dig The Masquerade. But really, if you've heard more than three modern melodic death metal albums, you know it's nothing new. (6/10 add two points if In Flames is your favorite band, or if you've never heard them)

From the package, the cover, the inserts, the titles, everything about Bringing Back the Bloodshed suggests major fun. Thankfully, it all turns out to be true.

Frightmare is the atmospheric, musical equivalent of cheap B-movies: grotesque, violent, and absolutely pointless fun. However, it’s important to point out that this has nothing to do with the technical part, just the aesthetics. From the titles, to the (and that's not really common) perfectly used samples, everything was made just for the sake of thrashing madness. You could call Frightmare the Misfits of metal.

The simplicity in atmosphere is balanced with the outstanding and tight technical work by all the members, especially the guitarist. While the typical thrash gallopping riffs are frequent, Frightmare includes death metal riffs (kind of like Impaled minus the Carcass worship), plain heavy / speed metal ones, and even a pop-punk-gone-metal riff in "Barbecutioner." The solos go from almost shredding to good ol' Floyd Rose abusing, to melodic ones. So yes, "diversity" is a keyword in Bringing Back the Bloodshed, almost as much as "fun" is.

The surprise in Bringing Back the Bloodshed is the vocal work. Being a mostly thrash album, you'd expect high-pitched vocals or such. Well, the vocalist here is Maniac Neil. Yes, the guy from Lord Gore. If you know Lord Gore, you know they had some of the best death vocals out there, and, you guessed it, they are as good as they ever were here. What's even weirder, his sometimes pig-like low vocals fit the riffs perfectly. Not only fit, but they add a whole new dimension to the music.

To make it all even better, every song is different and well composed, and it doesn't suffer from the "the first three songs are good, then the rest suck" syndrome. So you get an actually well-composed, well-played, tight and fun modern thrash album, the way it should be. Simply outstanding. (8.9/10)

Some years ago, melodic drone/doom bands started to become known and respected in both the metal and hardcore scenes. We’re talking about stuff like early Boris, which has more in common with Earth than with the more modern Sunn O))), Hlidolf and such. We can attribute that to the rise of sludgecore, specifically Neurosis and Isis. While sometimes terribly overrated, like it or not, they both introduced a new aesthetic idea and an original way of riffing.

How do sludgecore and Hyatari connect? Hyatari is precisely sludgecore gone drone. If you've heard both Enemy of the Sun and A Sun that Never Sets by Neurosis, you'll somehow be able to recognize what's going on here. It's not a carbon-copy of it, not at all, but both The Light Carriers and Enemy of the Sun could have been made by the same band, except The Light Carriers is much, much more interesting.

The main difference between The Light Carriers and other drone is that Hyatari is less improvisational and more compositional, with structures you can follow in your head, and maybe even remember the riffs. Riffs? Yes, riffs, while that can be surprising, The Light Carriers is an album with actual guitarwork. Ok, not Dark Angel-riffage, but more like Earth-riffage. And not only that, there are even actual drums in some of the tracks. The mystery is how the guy could keep time without falling asleep. Another difference is the inclusion of leads over the heavily distorted, downtuned to hell and back rhythm guitars.

To finish the recipe, they added low dialogues and random noises over it all, just to make it even more twisted. What makes it awesome is that they don't seem like they’re present in the music, so you'll find yourself more than once trying to find out what the hell's making "that weird noise" near you, only to realize it's Hyatari playing tricks on you.

Atmospherically, the album features elements of "machine making loud noises" approach, like in Sunn O)))'s Flight of the Behemoth, or the dark, tortured atmosphere some Neurosis songs have. Even if the seven tracks displayed here are unique, all of them form an aural story.

Also, if you often complain about drone albums being horribly boring, trust me, The Light Carriers isn't. In fact, it's varied, much fun and really addictive. Hell, you'll love it even if you hate drone, because it's so good.

Easily one of the greatest drone albums ever made, certainly in my top three. (9.99/10)

If I had a dollar for every bad Carcass rip-off I've heard, then I could surely have my own appartment as of now. I wish I could say the same about good Carcass-influenced bands. What we have here, against all odds, is the latter.

Incarnated comes from Poland, and having members of Neuropathia, Dead Infection and (ex) Squash Bowels, you know it just can't be bad.

Technically, it's Carcass' first album gone modern goregrind, with brutal death touches. The typical grooves of both Reek of Putrefaction and new goregrind are there, accentuated by the outstanding drumming of Bartosh.

Having been together for 14 years already, it's obvious Incarnated is a mature band. There are no samples or such filler, so the 46 minutes of Pleasure of Consumption are all music.

The composition itself could have been made 15 years ago, but what makes it modern is the approach. The guitar tone and drumming sound, in a way, synthetic and cybergrindish, in this case being done to a positive result. There are no complex riffs to be found here, instead opting for the more straightforward, old-school Swedish death metal guitar work. About the vocals, they are harsh without resorting to pig squeals or voice distortion.

Just like in Reek of Putrefaction, both blastbeats and slower-paced tension-building parts are impressively alternated. The production is dirty-sounding but crystal clear at the same time, with just the necessary distortion to achieve Pleasure of Consumption’s special sound.

As for the negative side, and being modern you should expect it, the songs are pretty much all the same, with slight variations on riffing and patterns. In fact, more than once you'll think you're listening to the same song over and over again. There's no "Genital Grinder" here to make things less monotonous, and no interludes to stop the in-your-face, mosh-inducing metal for at least half a minute.

The album also includes the three tracks from an unreleased promo from 1997. It's much more Grave / Dismember sounding than Incarnated’s new stuff, and it doesn't fit them as much as their new sound does.

So, anyway, if you're looking for a modern version of old school Carcass, go for it. Otherwise... you'll most probably prefer the originals. (7.5/10)

Sleep had probably the strongest rhythm section a metal band has ever had. The completely dopey, riff-driven songs were so good just because they had that punch in the bass and drums that just made you want to headbang for hours. So when you get that band’s bassist and drummer, and make them play more experimental stoner, you get something like Om.

Om is, without a doubt, creating something new in doom. Since the moment you press play, you know it's not something common, and that's the same feeling you'll have for all of Conference of the Birds’ running time. It's extreme without being really heavy, and it's original without being silly.

Having no guitarist, just a bassist, the riffs are droney and mostly without distortion. That fact alone forces Om to defy some more conventions.

No other band name could have been used. "Om" is a mantra, repeated for long times during meditation. The band, following that logic, makes extensive usage of repetition, so much that it seems like a pothead jam sometimes. You could call it the Filosofem of stoner. And it's that hypnotic and abstract composition that makes Conference of the Birds what it is: an outstanding piece of brain-shattering stoner.

Conference of the Birds is divided in two parts. The first song, "At Giza," shows its dopier side without making use of distortion, while "Flight of the Eagle" is more of a metal song with distorted bass and a slightly faster pace. As weird as it might sound, it feels like two albums in one, and that makes one feel the songs are shorter than they should have been (consider they are a whopping 16 and 17:30 minutes each!)

Even if aesthetically there are some similarities, in sound, Sleep and Om are two things light years away. While Sleep was stoner/doom, and it relied mostly on good ol' distortion, Om is more of an unclassifiable jam-based experience with cleaner vocals. However, it's obvious that copious amounts of both illegal and legal substances were used in both Dopesmoker / Jerusalem and Conference of the Birds. Both are, in their respective genres, groundbreaking albums.

It's impressive that Om is keeping up the level of their previous band, and at this pace they might pull off a new Dopesmoker. We really, really hope so. (9.3/10)

Not to sound like an old-school purist, but it's bands like this one right here that show why modern hardcore is pretty much dead. (Note: I'm excluding all the subgenres but the most straight-forward hardcore.). Before I say anything, Can't Keep the Truth's lyrics are full of straight edge and vegan propaganda, but that has no influence on the final rating.

Quoted from the booklet: "[hardcore] was once a community of people that believed in something significant, and now it's a place of meaningless slogans and misplaced anger." It's sad to see that a band that bashes the actual hardcore community is nothing more than what they bash.

Path of Resistance seems pretty much that, meaningless slogans and misplaced anger. And from a band that's more similar to pointless bands such as Biohazard, instead of Bad Brains or Black Flag, it's quite comical to read. I know, random bashing is an efficient way to get publicity, but hypocrisy is one of the reasons hardcore scene is how it is.

But anyway, for the actual music. When dealing with Path of Resistance, monotony is the word, just like with most new hardcore bands. You know those typical and annoying "I'm tough and get all the girls" vocalists? Well, Path of Resistance has one of those. You know those terribly simplistic "I play in a band so I'm cool" guitarists? That's right, one of those as well. Can't Keep the Truth adds nothing new to hardcore as a whole.

It's all generic. Seriously. The guitar riffs you've heard at least 3,000,000 times, probably more. The drumming is unimpressive, the vocals are tiresome. Overall it's tedious, all of it. And the worst part, there's no variation at all. Be glad there are no emo breakdowns, I guess. Solos? Nope. Anything at all to save it from being a complete disaster? Not really.

If you happen to get to the end of it without smashing the CD into little pieces, you'll almost certainly need a dose of GISM or Minor Threat to feel better. You won't need much to feel better, anyway. (0.1/10)

This release features the Norwegian noise/improve duo performing free music, recorded live with no overdubs yet with some electronic manipulation. This is the type of music frequently associated with avant garde.

Unfortunately, and I too make this mistake from time to time, it seems like avant garde has grown to be treated as less of "a pioneering, innovative medium" and more of "a way it sounds."

While there are some attractive sounds conveying an atmosphere of violence to be found, some of the music laid here must be beyond me, as I fail to see neither its purpose nor its classification as music; some of this noise seems to be easy to imitate without requiring any craftsmanship or artistic aspiration.

A great deal of the time the music sounds like King Crimson on its chaotic climaxes; but whereas on King Crimson these moments have a crucial dependence on the clever buildup of the pieces and their emergence from the carefully structured (even linear) frames; on Raus Aus Stavanger, they stand bare of any harmonic or rhythmical foundations as the cacophony is permanently and plainly all-around, hence they cease to function as climaxes – no tension, no outlet.

Free-music wise guys might actually like it. Others are invited to check out Ahleuchatistas (reviewed in this issue). As for me, I finally got myself an album somehow connected with Jaga Jazzist. (3.5/10)

Call me narrow minded, primitive or what you will, but it’s truly hard for me to get along with all the unframed (lacking in structure / melody / rhythm hooks) extreme metal that’s out there. Thank god that Ahleuchatistas has come to save me from the alienation and idiosyncratic of the hard edge.

Actually, Ahleuchatistas are not newcomers, and this is in fact the instrumental trio’s third album. But then again, considering their commercially suicidal name, it is no wonder that these guys don’t gain popularity.

But popularity aside, the level of musicianship on this release is unquestionable. The trio, although primitive in its choice of devices, which consists only of drums, unaffected guitars and bass, is remarkably refreshing in every one of its other aspects.

The compositions shift gears unexpectedly, maintaining a terrific flow while relentlessly showcasing a tremendous control of instruments via measured attacks. All of these hard-hitting assaults are far more than a hardcore bash as they incorporate melodic twists, hooks and subtleties into the inferno.

The drumming is perhaps the most representative of all that, as the technical metal-flavored beats are approached with as much snare drum work as double bass and cymbals; and at the same time it is a product of a dedicated interaction with the bass and guitar phrases, getting as melodic as drums can be on top of being rhythmically engaging.

What You Will is what innovative metal groups have been trying to do for a long time – Ahleuchatistas finally makes sense out of the unexpected and extreme, giving up none of its ingenuity. (9.25/10)

Scar Symmetry is back with a colossal improvement over their last album. The music is catchier and more planned out, and all of the parts fit together very smoothly, featuring a ton of fast guitar work and shredding solos of various kinds. The vocals range from very low growls to beautifully sang vocals, never flat, annoying, or whiney. The guitar rhythms are always diverse and technical, with great use of effects and sound.

Scar Symmetry is somewhat similar to those catchier, more mainstream metal groups like In Flames or Soilwork. But the major difference here is the group's ability to cling to metal and not drop into the mundane monotony that is mainstream metal. With their brutal growls of low and high, they exclaim exuberantly, "We aren't joking around." The clean vocals are of an equal seriousness, sang with skill, precision, and of overall importance, emotion. The melody throughout the album is overwhelming, with plenty of vocal harmonies, guitar and keyboard performances that bridge the gap in the melodies and the percussion’s unique patterns.

A good way to describe Scar Symmetry may be "progressive melodic metal." These guys deserve a good bit of exposure, and hopefully they will receive it. Everything about this release is extremely polished, from the fine conceptual artwork, to the perfectly mixed and clear production with everything where it should be and at the right coherence. Hopefully these guys will never sell out, because their sound as it is now is nearly perfect. (8/10)

Seven Witches’ debut, 1999’s Second War in Heaven, is finally being released in the US. But this reissue is not perfect, as there is a misprint featuring a gap between the intro and the album’s second track that should have run flawless as they are interconnected. Some might excuse this due to the existence of some bonus tracks, but these demos are hardly worthy of your attention as they are basically nearly identical yet lower quality versions of the final tracks.

But the album itself is what counts, and it might deliver for classic-loving power metal fans a dose of catchy songs and proud, dramatic execution. Second War in Heaven is a bit too mid-tempo at times, and although the double bass drums occasionally fit right in with the melody, it is at other times abused.

The sound is quite well balanced, which at times enhances the experience due to the audibility of each instrument, while at other times covers finer details of the guitar work in favor of the others.

I read somewhere that in retrospect this release can be considered as a wakeup call for American power metal. So what???

It’s not like we’ve been missing quality heavy metal albums on either side of the Atlantic, and truthfully, Seven Witches is not in league with so called traditional acts like Judas Priest or Iron Maiden (and possibly even Helloween), from which it draws its inspiration.

Sure, there is some catchy shredding and good vocal work, but these are not in levels high enough to make you spend your bucks. What’s really lacking is imagination; and no! a simplistic metal cover of Fleetwood Mac’s "The Chain" does not count, even if it has a certain thought put into its instrumental midsection, nor does a renaming of Dio’s "Rainbow in the Dark" into "In a Small Child’s Room" (is that plagiarism, or what?)

Interval Recordings’ website states: "Interval is a label interested in the gap between objects, the idea of silence, the love for the uncharted terrains that comes before and after the notes."

Indeed, it is with ethereal, almost nonexistent vibes, Amnon Wolman (currently a professor of composition and director of the Center for Computer Music at Brooklyn College, and a professor of composition at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York) portrays a meticulously woven fabric of macabre tones and drones, unleashing acoustic sceneries of silence on the label’s first release.

In accordance with its title, the music has a sustained, orchestral feel to it, at times enhanced by a circumfused, intimidating tuba presence. Unfortunately though, the sustain and the air gaps led me away from the music instead of into it, as I soon found myself delving in the same all around, casual thoughts that occupy my mind regardless of any musical stimulation.

It is on this aspect that the music fails to fulfill its calling. The potential is there, I just hope that next time, whether it would be Wolman or someone else to explore stillness, the well of sounds would be deeper, so that I won’t escape as easily. (4/10)

If you've liked the past couple of releases by Cannibal Corpse, chances are that Kill will also please the ear. It isn't a far cry from Gore Obsessed or The Wretched Spawn – the guitars are deep but technical, the drums unrelenting but varied and Corpsegrinder's vocals are as good as ever, though at times faster and more percussive than they've been before.

Cannibal Corpse has been doing solid death for so long that any extreme experimentation could risk the band's being alienated by its hard-core followers and dismissed by the more casual listener as gimmicky. Plus Cannibal Corpse knows what it does best, what it loves to do, and tries with each release to compound on the previous idea and do classic-style death that much better than anyone else. In this regard, the Corpse has followed its progression thus far to the natural next step and released a crushing piece of death metal that draws on its main strengths. And though it may not be for everyone, and it may not be enough progress between albums for others, it will make any fan of the band flash a bloody, toothless grin.

The lyrics are more poetic than one has come to expect from the inimitably gruesome Cannibal Corpse, but most of the extra words are there to dress up words and phrases like: "Our victims are decapitated," "Jagged Blade," "Mutilate /Disembowel / Amputate / Kill and Rape," "Perforate the abdomen," "Dripping skin," "Traumatizing agony," and "Brains are all I ever crave." Toned down a little from before? Perhaps so. But there are plenty of tortures described in unflinching detail to satisfy the most gruesome listeners.

At any rate, the musicianship is great, with lots of satisfying grooves and interesting verses, the production is clear and the vocals solid. Corpse fans can't go wrong. (8/10)

These Chicagoans' second album holds a solid display of listenable, thrashy material. Although not particularly experimental with beats or riffing, Bludgeon sets a decent pace at the beginning of the album and goes with it, exploiting many opportunities to bring hard grooves and angry screams to the surface.

The drums and guitars are well-coordinated, often shifting drastically while staying perfectly in time. Not that counting any of it is that tough – the tracks on World Controlled don't venture far from basic rhythms – but it is always impressive to hear machine-like synchronization. The vocals consist mainly of punctuated, hardcore-style yells; and the lyrics, while neither poetic nor groundbreaking, still hold up under scrutiny. The guitar lines consist mainly of quick-changing, percussive riffs that lend themselves well to Bludgeon's style of aggressive thrash. The drum beats are frequently creative, hitting syncopated beats and playing around the more solidly timed guitars, though they more often act in the more traditional role of anchor, slamming out hard-hitting double bass and rock rhythms.

Bludgeon hasn't ventured into any revolutionary territory with World Controlled, but it is a solid sophomore release that should lead to bigger and better things. Some more technicality and unconventional stylings would certainly be to Bludgeon's benefit in the future, but World Controlled is an enjoyable effort. (6.5/10)

As soon as you pick up this album, you know you're in for something silly. It opens with a "Star Wars"-based track that starts out with vocals that sound eerily like Rob Zombie. The next track, "Steamroller," has a rocky, Slayer-like feel at the start. This speaks to the dexterity of the vocalist, because, instrumentally, not much changes between the two. Each track gets progressively goofier, Psychonaut reveling in its brand of heavy rock without an ounce of seriousness.

The band plays with already-established rock riffs, samples and electronic flourishes here and there, but the essence of the group lies in late-80's punk, I think – musically simple yet aggressive, superficially experimental and fundamentally ridiculous. Masters of Procrastination is a fun and interesting listen, but it ain't metal. It was also released in 2003, so I guess it lives up to its title. It's nice to see a band that doesn't take itself seriously, but I don't see myself breaking out Psychonaut too often when I'm digging around for something to listen to. A curious and novel release. (6/10)

This epic-sounding group has a flare for the dramatic, especially in the form of doom-ish, minor-key intros leading into fields of heavy distortion and throaty yells. The band's style of melodic death brings In Flames or Opeth immediately to mind, which is telling. Fragments of Unbecoming needs to separate itself far much further from music that other bands have already released. The band's musicianship is excellent, and the songwriting is solid. But originality is lacking throughout, and Sterling Black Icon doesn't press the edges of extreme music in any sense.

The instrumentation is strong, but not impressively so. The vocals are growly and nondescript. The atmosphere the band builds isn't even particularly rich. Fragments has a strong foundation on which to build something greater, but the group will have to do something drastic in terms of style, technicality or structure to gain the attentive ear of the metal community for any length of time. Otherwise it will be cast into the wide bin of "Swedish-style metal" for the rest of its existence. And rightly so. (5.5/10)

I'm always pleased to hear what's coming out of Japan, and a brutal death metal release that made its way off the island is particularly intriguing. Infected Malignity hasn't caught up with the international death scene quite yet: the band's style, though aggressive and unrelenting, is like a trip to the mid-‘90s (in the sense that it sounds dated, not consciously trying to be a throw-back to better times). And the music often sounds messy – the riffs don't always meet up with the drum lines, and sloppiness occasionally succumbs to chaos (also not in a frantic, speed-metal sense but in a more accidental one).

However, the mix is generally solid. The deeply distorted guitars hammer out gratifying riffs in between semi-heavy grooves, and the growled vocals sound great among the rest. On another negative note, Infected Malignity hardly slows down enough to add flavor to the songs, and they end up all sounding alike. The unimaginativeness of the guitar lines doesn't help in this respect, either.

Born from Despair definitely needs more variety, and Infected Malignity could use some more experience and song-writing sessions in order to put together a more coherent, technical and varied repertoire. (5/10)

These punky Floridians are reappearing on the national scene with a four-song release that does their straightforward style justice. Good production and thick, throat-ripping vocals are the highlights – Harper's vocals especially add a lot of energy to the mix. The drums are nothing special, really, just mid-tempo rock beats that keep everything else on time. The guitar riffs are also not much to speak about – repetitive, simplistic, and entirely dull. But, as is mentioned above, I think this type of playing must be what Escape Grace is going for, as a sort of tangent to melodic hardcore.

There is a spark somewhere within the album that surfaces in moments here and there when the music doesn't sound entirely uninteresting. Escape Grace is good at building an edgy atmosphere that roils and flows, sometimes unexpectedly, into new riffs or oceans of distortion. But this positive aspect does not redeem the whole. The musicianship is poor, and the repetitious, simple song structures lead to a feeling of tiredness and tedium that only increases with listening. (4/10)

Burial Within is trying to claw its way out of the "local" label, and the dirty, thrash-touched death mixture it displays on this brief release gives the band a lot of promise. The production sounds pretty cheap, especially as far as the drums are concerned, but the point is made clearly. A relatively tight group, Burial Within brings frequent changes, drastic tempo shifts and energetic riffs to this album. The combination of growls and throaty gurgles also adds to the group's character.

The lyrics betray a youngish, self-doubting nature to be found within the group. The depressed, searching themes that are found on the lyric sheet seem juvenile and unfit for a non-emo group. Where's the gore? Violent imagery? I don't want to hear this: "When life is disappointment, rejection and despair / The burden of existence becomes too much to bear." And this isn't an unfair excerpt – the whole thing is made up of these vague, pubescent frustrations.

At its core, immaturity plagues this album. The members of Burial Within may find fame in future accomplishments, but this release, though good for some local youngsters, lacks the degree of talent that will lift it onto the national stage. (5/10)

Touchy-feely melodic hardcore has very few, if any, positive musical attributes. Aside from the energy mustered up by angst-ridden teens for a sweaty stage show and some sing-along choruses, there just isn't anything of redeeming value there. Aiden is better than most, incorporating some nice, deep grooves here and there, but the off-key singing, throaty, frustrated screams and loose playing are all present.

Aiden displays little technicality to speak of, and the vocals and musicianship are dismal overall. The combined effect is excruciatingly annoying, in fact. I can't (or don't want to) imagine anyone over the age of 15 that would be touched by Our Gang’s Dark Oath, let alone appreciate it from end to end. Therefore, I will not recommend this release to anyone. (2/10)

This Danish band's full-length debut is a strong one, and leaves one with a lot of hope for Submission's future. The album is painstakingly organized and surprisingly varied, but possesses a hardcore-esque edge and pummeling drum lines and grooves. The throaty growls that take precedence throughout Failure to Perfection mingle intermittently with harmonized singing, the guitars switch between rock ballad-style choruses and thrash verses, and the drums alternate between rock and double-bass-heavy rhythms.

Submission does this all in a very natural way, without emphasizing the extremes. The album progresses smoothly and logically, and the frequent changes keep the listener guessing about what will come next. The production is a little muddy, but only that it is not absolutely crisp – it still allows each line to be heard and doesn't have an overly hollow or unbalanced sound – which is appropriate for Submission's thrashy, melodic brand of death.

Fans of bands like Soilwork, that are clean and ordered, with lots of satisfying flourishes and enough technicality to be challenging to the ear, will almost certainly like Failure to Perfection. I look forward to Submission's future releases – hopefully the band will stray a bit farther from the norm in the coming years. (7.5/10)

One sad lesson learned from hearing a release such as this: even with so much vapid material out there, substance in black metal requires more than spikes, image, and even shared ideology.

Cleveland, Ohio’s Black Trinity rose from the ashes of Noktuary. This is technically accomplished black metal in the vein of Mayhem, Dark Funeral, and Urgehal. And although the sound on Demonic Pleasures is organic and meaty, the band suffers from some VERY formulaic approaches to songwriting. If there were an equivalent to the 12-bar boogie for black metal, Black Trinity are the house band for tonight. It’s frustrating, because they are such good musicians and their chemistry is obviously spot-on. All that’s missing is the material, which with some more development may increase the soundscape.

One plus that raised the points on this release to at least the midpoint: by the seventh song ("Oath of Blood and Iniquity"), the songs and momentum vastly improve. That provides hope that this band will not follow the path that beloved Celtic Frost eventually took after 1986. Demonic Pleasures closes with a ripping cover of Mayhem’s "Deathcrush." (5/10)

Reverb-soaked, ambient Neurosis worship by Brian Daniloski, guitarist of Meatjack. darsombra is presumably a departure from any style of band who call themselves Meatjack. A lot of material of this ether drone platter resembles the old test patterns of The Emergency Broadcast System: in the 1970s there was minute long, high pitched squelch that would alarm most canines for miles around, instead of the intermittent wimpy modem noise of today’s radio alerts.

ecdysis manipulates sound, drone, and loops like a necromancer, bringing to mind the work of Hovercraft, Coil, Sunn0))), and even Tribes of Neurot. Repeated phrases emphasize hypnosis over hum on "My House," and then steady, oceanic E-bow voyages on "Swelter."

darsombra is an ambient affair, mostly. It may reach only an audience so inclined. However, Brian’s eerie, percussionless cover of "Dies Irae" (the opening theme to the 1980 Stanley Kubrick film "The Shining," arranged by Wendy Carlos and Rachel Elkind) makes a wonderfully majestic and bleak last impression. (7/10)

Anna Darvulia was one of the foul witches known to have assisted with Elizabeth Bathory’s torture and murder sessions. According to the Vampires Monstrous index, "Darvulia was exactly like the classical forest witch that appears in children’s tales: very old, irascible, and always surrounded by black cats."

If the above-mentioned harridan is indeed the spiritual source of Darvulia’s "putrid miasmas," it seems fitting for this CD of gnarled Darkthrone ritual. But be not contented with that ordinary comparison though, because this duo spews their black vomit all over the musical map. At turns homicidal blastmort, dissonant drone, space jam, and crucifixion soundtrack, the material on this disc is layered with captivating song structures. The songwriting is commendable on a Leviathan-ized level. On the same token, the production is so raw and spiteful, there are points when one guitar plays so far in the background, you may fear your "mono/stereo" switch may be incorrect. But no, this band fucks with the tenuous nature of sound itself, and as a result, stalks the criteria of underground black metal like a cat cornering a cockroach.

And to top it all off, hear you the extreme spite of this music. "Goqkre" kicks the fetus with burning guitar fuzz, forming so many inverted crosses on the guitar fretboard you may never be able look at a church again without snickering (go ahead, the Christians deserve it). This is pretty evil stuff.

"Monotones Conjurations" is an even more dissonant affair, sucking the listener even deeper into the crypts of what is possible in black metal. It even rocks out during the bridge, combining the infectious bygone days of early hardcore with slower, Swans-like, glass chewing torture.

"Le Manoir aux Cadavares D’Enfants" is the track that really sold me on this release. It starts out with a goofy, almost Shonen Knife piss-take before seesawing between dissonant chord molestation and rabid spazzblast. Truly ritualistic, this is.

"La Semeuse" continues in that tradition of early Darkthrone, but what sets this band’s approach apart from the followers in that next-gen aspect of what makes Wrest’s work so engaging: shift the gears without going totally math, fuck with the familiarity of grey and life metal, molest the song structure until it is traumatized beyond repair. In other words, think outside the fucking box.

"Mallgnite de Sorcerie" is an even more violent example of this subterranean threat, starting slow and then raking in the speed like flame licking against flesh.

One of the coolest parts of the drone nightmare "Toolkrh Belladone" is when the vokills groan and seethe through the darkness like a new species of evil. This tribal, acoustic brilliance is matched only by Tom Waits, perhaps. Hear the song and see.

Finally, "Nous Somines les Plaies Infectes de Le Monde" is a more traditional return to the straightforward, rancid threat of old school blastmort. Darvulia double up the vokills on this one, then the feedback cuts off and it’s over.

L’Alliance Des Venins has been making quite a few waves in the underground, and even the black metal press. Check out this and more of what Battlesk’rs has on offer, because otherwise, you give sheep the vote. (9/10)

These are not the typical results you get from drum machine death metal. Witches’ Sabbath, along with having the most original name this side of the pond, hails from Spain. Stylistically, they combine Morbid Angel with Celtic Frost’s Into the Pandemonium, but the variation between the tracks is pretty remarkable. It’s good to hear a band that spends time to develop its material.

Now, although the Morbid Angel worship is a bit much in places (playing the two bands side-by-side would be an interesting blindfold taste test), the technical ability of these musicians combined with the extreme heaviness makes for an enjoyable listen. Although this release won’t change your fucking life, Witches’ Sabbath at least SOUND like they try. The band’s website reveals that they have recruited a drummer and are recording a new full length. (6.9/10)

Ninefold is a five-piece Italian band with a three-disk history. Superstar is quite an amalgamation of stylistic experimentation. In a single cut you’ll get three bars of a bossa nova, another four of Santana, two of Hendrix, and the lot with a little grungy seasoning over the top. Sometimes it just takes a left turn down a self-indulgent bumpy road of tonal overgrowth.

Antonio Crispino’s vocals range between the tuneless roiling monster mash and the whispered morning secret. As diverse as Mattia Sikorsky’s guitar parts are, the melodic clean picking flanked by the satisfying Marshall fuzz becomes the much needed catalyst to pull their sound together.

When something defies a category like this collection does, one is left with a dilemma. Is it good or is it just too splintered? I’m not sure what I would be looking for when I decided to pop this CD in the changer. My sense is that this band is capable of applying themselves in a number of ways that would eventually be more cohesive.

The names of the songs in this collection are works of contemporary art. "Xray Camera," "Empty Coke Can," "Opium Cocktail," "Space Nipples," "Love Coupon, Empty Box"… (6/10)

Ueickap (pronounced "wake up") comes from Catania, Sicily. "Metal" is far too limited a word for this very capable, refined, European group. No matter how thick their wall of sound, the pieces are melodic, theatrical, and arranged brilliantly.

The parts and changes captivate even the ear in the next room. The development of parts get you out on a journey. Lifting weightless off the edge of an inspiration or weighed and sucked down the pathological rabbit hole, we are happy to follow the stories that Elena Fraccavento tells. Her voice is well suited to the genre, strong and confident in reach and expression, not over-processed or over-sweetened in a truly eloquent mix. Mua!

The band shows a natural maturity in the way Marco Garro, Davide Santo and Graziano Manuele give space and balance to each other’s worthy performances. As with many European bands, their lyrics are in English. Ueikcap goes over and above by investing in the extra paper to share their passionate and lyrical poetry on the liner. The CD cover art looks like misogynistic weirdness to me. I don’t think it really communicates the breadth and appeal of this very talented band. (9/10)

Seemingly the only word that exists in the vocabulary of this outfit is 'fuck' in all its forms, even non-existent ones (i.e. "fuckn," etc) and as expected, the Xeroxed lyric sheet is of course shit (pun indeed intended): Moronic texts dealing with booze, the word fuck and the omnipresent topic of sex and debauchery… These guys go to great lengths to convince us they are a bunch of redneck hillbillies who think with their dicks and defecate through their mouths.

Imagery and poetry aside, these Norwegians play a very potent and dynamic form of classic – albeit a harsher form of – speed metal infused with a crusty form of punk (think a heavier version of The Exploited) and with an overall grindcore vibe, especially in the last couple of songs where blast-beats galore are employed. But the vibe is not only due to the aforementioned blasts (or because of the short tracks: nine tracks in a span of a little more than 19 minutes), but also thanks to the nature of the recording, which is filthy and sludgy in essence, what suggests grind classics such as Repulsion and early Napalm Death in a way.

Nevertheless, the recording is clear and strong, and an accomplishment, capturing the authentic sound of the old school – what gives a good impression in regards to this Nordic quartet's abilities at reviving the past and playing with conviction and an attitude. This is mosh-pit material in all its ugliness and glory, it is funny, it is fun, it contains an abundance of fast, classic speed / thrash riffs and the punk-ish factor has never before been so essential in a metal recording… and if that wasn't convincing enough, they cover one Doomed song, a G.G. Allin song and a song by Abscess, the titles of which contain either the word "fuck," or "fuck'n" or "fucking," of course. (6/10)

Ok, let it be known: Cusp contains nothing that can, even remotely, be considered as music. Cusp is a single track, 40 minutes long, of pure experimentation for the sake of experimentation alone.

Apart from a short piano prologue that vaguely resembles any coherent cascade of sounds that assemble to create what is known as music, the other stuff here is just random sounds, a sonic gibberish of sorts, sometimes noisy, sometimes more laid-back acoustic shit that is really pointless and should have stayed in the possession of the band rather than go public. Cusp is no kind of music; even the experimental factor here is dubious because experimental music does have a point, an aim; it wishes to create something by exploring and searching for new sonic dimensions, but – and there's a big "but" here – experimental music should never leave the realm of music itself, otherwise it becomes an incoherent mess of indigestible frequencies and it loses the listener, in the same manner as this recording has lost me… (0/10)

Angel Blake features guitarist Marko Tervonen and drummer Janne Saarenpaa from The Crown amongst several current and ex-members from Swedish bands such as Scar Symmetry and Transport League. Be warned though, this isn’t an incarnation of The Crown, but an entirely new band with a different viewpoint.

Being a matured musical effort, Angel Blake will surprise most fans of The Crown but gain new listeners. It’s more of a rocking effort than a metal one. Tervonen’s riffs are simple melodies with some redeeming qualities. Some tunes still thrash a bit yet it just doesn’t have that rough attitude such as with "Retaliate" and "Thousand Storms." The band seems to experiment with some commercial, rock-like ballads. Whatever Tervonen’s musical "soul searching" is heading toward, he still has his love for music, and that’s what counts.

The vocals on Angel Blake seem more fitting for a gothic rock band with that retro, deep, and lifeless sound. Although this isn’t the only range on the album, I thought some songs like "Self-Terminate" sound like something you’d hear on some Cameo tune. The Stones cover of "Paint it Black" seems to be just there and a way to fill up time on the disc.

I was left a little disappointed by the overall sound of this record. It didn’t have that likable quality to it where you can be enthralled by its performance. (5/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

No matter how good Angel Blake (or One Man Army and the Undead Quartet, the other offshoot of the dead plant that was The Crown) is or will be, a good number of fans will never be able to let go of the fact that a band they loved broke up at the height of its creativity, only to start anew in two different places. Although The Crown wasn’t the band that Emperor was, the parallels are all too fucking obvious.

Now, we have to wonder: The Crown breaks up because, officially, they didn’t have the financial wherewithal to carry on as a professional, touring band. And if they couldn’t tour, they couldn’t be in a band. Fine, such is the reality of life. But is no one else challenging this notion considering The Crown’s most famous players are all now in touring metal bands, and in Angel Blake’s case, on the same label The Crown was on? Gentlemen, we welcome your explanations.

Angel Blake is better than Rick thinks. We can’t blame him for his opinions, though. If you really dug The Crown, chances are you’ll have a hard time swallowing this, which is kind of a heavy metal version of HIM. And as unfair as it is, you’ll probably not be able to suppress the notion that Janne Saarenpaa’s talents are, well, sort of wasted in this band.

Objectively, though, Angel Blake’s greatest asset is very well-written, concise songs, at least of the three or four we listened to. The arrangements are quite adept and flow very well. The singer has excellent command of his velvety delivery, and the sterling production excels at conveying the music in a warm and heavy way. It won’t be our favorite band, and we wish, like with Zyklon and Peccatum and whatever, these guys would just cut it out and seriously get the main band back together. (7/10)

Aquefrigide aren’t exactly treading on uncharted waters with their modern sound. It has that nu-metal simplicity and hook to it, but doesn’t keep up in terms of satisfaction. It takes flight, but impacts soon after lift off. Un Caso Isolato sounds angry, but musically, it’s never aggressive. This could be attributed to Aquefrigide’s stale style. As hard as the band tries to commit, it still doesn’t fly.

The music is predictable and doesn’t seem to challenge its listeners. The vocals are sung in Italian and possess that certain uniqueness because of this. Whether or not you understand the language, there’s still some stuff to enjoy here. "Soffio Veleno" got me on the first listen and mainly in part of the whiny verses. It isn’t the "I hurt therefore I must cry" motto, but it’s definitely in the Korny category. "Carne Cruda" has a few decent licks that sound like a tribute to Slayer. The Italian language isn’t my forte, but music is the universal language. (5/10)

The latest single from Blind Guardian, Fly, is only just a taste of what’s to be unleashed later on in the year. Fans of fantasy and adventure should get their greasy hands on this teaser. The EP starts out strong with the title track. It is almost reminiscent to a majestic Asian tune in terms of melody, and packs wild imagination.

Also included is the acoustic version of another new track entitled "Skalds and Shadows." This acoustic piece sounds like a Middle Age, Lord of the Rings-inspired tune – the way a troubadour would have sung, back in that time period. To end things off on a high note, there is also a cover of the Iron Butterfly classic "In a Gadda Da Vida." The cover is done the Blind Guardian way: downright heavy and classy.

With that said, expect this new release to be highly anticipated this year. Never fear, power fans, this is a great piece of plastic to savor until the time has come. It sounds like another great Blind Guardian masterpiece is on its way. (8.5/10)

Modern rock tends to borrow a lot of aspects from the nu-metal category and instills the archetypical ideas of bitching and moaning as well as fusing other styles into a contemporary mix. How should this debauchery still exist when most of that crowd has moved on to better, less embarrassing things in life? Chaos Conspiracy ventures into a ghost train and revs its engines in hopes of trying to bring back what was then the mid- to late-‘90s vibe.

The foundation is there in all its ugly glory. The necessity to a modern sound relies on its simple brick-and-mortar idea often based on slight groove, but this mainly relies on its heavy dosage of funk. The idea is interesting and laid back, often chilled but once again the ingredients weigh themselves out. I often had Red Hot Chili Peppers, 311, SOAD, and Korn constantly popping up in my head to some of the album’s quirks. The vocals are the worst feature and fail on first strike. The whining is often a prelude to the angry outcries and self loathing content. Kudos to the bass player, though!

Sadly, the sounds won’t cut diamonds nor will it capture the attention you give it. Execution is funky and fresh at first, but overall it’s amateurish at best. There should be plenty of reworking with the vocals, or at least ditch the idea completely. (4/10)

Synthphony 001 is one of those records whose enjoyment is directly linked to not paying too close attention. If you end up picking this Italian power metal album up, remember, ignorance is bliss.

On the surface, Synthphony 001 moves along at an energetic, engaging pace. The fast melodies fly out at you in Italian power metal fashion, supported by busy, aggressive drums. Don’t even think that the term "rumble" even remotely applies to the drums (or any of the instruments) here, as they are entirely sampled, and in a way that’s very trebly and punchy. Indeed, the entire gamut of the sounds seem like they could have been the product of synthesizers; perhaps keyboardist and band leader Dany All’s "sword, Elensynth," which he thanks in the liner notes in the same breath as "Tolkien, Wagner, and Conan... one day we’ll meet in Walhalla!"

The keyboards have that plastic fantastic aspect to them. Imagine a steam engine made entirely of Tupperware, and the melodic sounds that could come out of it. The vocals are bold and energetic, but stay away from the more common histrionics of the genre. The lot comes together as a frilly, tasty, ludicrous, sappy, and fun result that is like the soundtrack to a party in a gay person’s pants.

In case you missed it, this band is all about the synths. Seriously, we’re the dead horse to Synthphonia Suprema's conceptual flogging. So if we still didn’t get it, there’s a song called "Synth Metal" (chorus: "Synth metal, synth metal, synth metal, synth!") Only if the studly barbarian guy on the cover were holding a keyboard rather than an axe would the point be more explicit. So naturally, the keyboard is the element that’s the most out in front. And as much as metal reviewers have been reviling this characteristic for ages, there objectively isn’t anything wrong with it, if that’s your bag.

But if you pay attention, you might notice that this album really puts the "phony" in "synthphony." It’s highly probable that the entire record was recorded direct in someone’s bedroom, employing all the consumer-level technological shortcuts available. Case in point: the vocals. They sound great. In tune, good melodies. Buuuut... there’s a strange thing that happens to them when the singer goes for something a little more difficult, like all of a sudden there’s some digital shadows that flesh out the voice, which makes us think that something like Auto Tune was used to compensate for any errors. Case in point, #2: the drums. There is no doubt that the kit is an entry-level electronic pad set. There may be no more than one crash cymbal, and although the fills are busy, there are no tom-toms whatsoever on the record. Calculated? Probably. This is the sound that Synthphonia Suprema is going for; and although tons of records we listen to were likely improved in post-production, if we don’t realize it, it’s not such a biggie. Again, ignorance is bliss.

If you like this style, Synthphony 001's frills can be a good time, but they’re merely frills. The going is very goofy, and at the hands of concepts and lyrics (i.e. "I’ve lost my watch and there’s no time for me to listen to you now") to kitschy sonic values, uncontrollable eye-rolling is guaranteed at least a few times during this record, no matter how hardened a Euro power metal listener you are. However, if you fancy the "Sonic the Hedgehog" version of power metal, you’ll dig this album. (6.8/10)

PS: What with all the focus on synths, you might have been expecting something as exciting as Dol Ammad’s debut album. Not that you won’t like Synthphony 001 anyway, but it pales in comparison to that Greek band’s album.

The next generation is definitely on the verge of something great, however it isn’t exactly present in Hymns of The Wicked’s debut, Never See the Sun Again. The band tries to cover all perspectives by experimenting with several styles. The range is quite odd as it has a heavy nu-metal foundation but involves other quick schemes such as thrashy movements, punk-like spurts, and even reggae. As a result of this direction, it sounds like if the band is trying anything and everything to find their niche.

An eclectic mix it is, but there’s no clear focus. What’s the point if the presentation is all over the place? The problem may be attributed to the hiring ranks of Jamaican songwriter and artist Raymond Mclean, who produces and lends out his ideas. This idea may not be of great advantage to the band because overall it sounds forced. The music may be a tad basic for the modern day metal head, albeit catchy enough for local play at a college or online radio station that supports alternative rock. National attention is out of the picture.

The vocal range may seem a bit frustrating at times with the high, whiny rasp. Even when actual singing is involved it sounds like a pain. All the power to them for their brave venture into a diverse gallery, but the talent lacks originality. Simple playing mechanics and dull play equal a not so great experience. (3/10)

Picture a band of horses galloping through a battlefield with lots of explosions and gunfire. It’s a nice comparison as it does go along with the pace of "The Longest Night." Traditional heavy metal has its kicks here with lots of distinctive melodies and solos ripe for the picking. Never does it fail to impress and it’s always something when you hear them. There are excellent vocal melodies, and the singing is clear and up on the forefront of greatness.

"I Am the Hammer" is a bold and straightforward tune that never lets your guard down. It would’ve been better to start the album on that song alone. "By the Night Sky" also has a great hook to it, and flows very well despite its 8-minute length. These songs are examples of how Pharaoh is destined to become kings of metal.

The rest of the album goes on an adventurous trip through what Iron Maiden should still be doing as of now. This is definitely a great effort in kicking ass. (8/10)

The agonizing sounds of brutal death metal are like sweet nectar to my ears. Severe Torture’s Earache debut, Fall of the Despised, possesses that warm, fuzzy feeling of murderous tendencies, brutalizing mechanics, and the lust for gratuitous violence.

Chaos is definitely running amok. Yes, it’s loaded with aching rhythmic leads that scream for annihilation to an occasional solo here and there. Accompanied are the plummeting double bass drums with that tightly tuned snare sound that slightly rings for brutality. Oh, sweet surrender. The vocals are the typical growls to what you’d hear on any other current death metal release. On the other hand, the backing vocals are reminiscent to the good old days of Pestilence. Maybe it’s because they are from the Netherlands as well!

Song titles may seem elementary in nature (i.e. "Endless Strain of Cadavers," "End of Christ") but behold and expect more than above average musicianship throughout. It’s a cool album. (7.5/10)

Despite their looks, Str8 are far from metal but have that hard rock edge. The band has the ability to churn out some mediocre tunes, but solid this is not. The intensity is not quite there. The rocking moments take cues from the Load days of Metallica. There are some interesting additions to where there’s a slight funk influence, and little hints of jazz for good measure.

To say that this album is catchy would only be 1/3 right, because most of the time the ideas tend to fall a bit flat and stale themselves out. If only Soul Inside? had the jolt to get you from the hair and swing you around in circles, then things would be different.

The thing that brings this release down is on the singing. Sure, it may carry the song to some extent, but the performance sounds unnatural. (4/10)

Prepare for a visceral thrash assault like never before as Swedish super group Terror 2000 take a sardonic jab at today’s metal culture. Terror for Sale is primarily a collaboration of the most shining moments from each of the members’ own musical endeavors. Ideally, the largest of thrash influences are isolated from Darkane and Soilwork’s earliest of efforts, and exceedingly used to superb effect.

Soilwork’s own Bjorn "Speed" Strid does a great job at covering a wide range of vocals in addition to his signature style rasp. He goes to lengths by pulling funny ideas such as some neat falsetto vocals and guttural growls.

Don’t make the mistake of turning a blind eye to this release. Terror for Sale’s aggressive take on thrash will violently grab you by the balls and never let go. It’s all thrills and no frills from here on out. It sounds like the band had a blast recording this. (8.5/10)

This new release by the normally guitar-playing Amos Hoffman finds him sticking strictly to his oud (a Middle Eastern lute), something that turns out to be an inspiring move!

The instrumental pieces here draw from the Arabic tradition in their scales and rhythms, ranging from intimate, restrained oud pieces, to exciting duets, to full orchestration.

Hoffman is supported by a fine cast of musicians on percussion, double bass, violin and ney (an Arabic flute). Their contribution to the colorful nature of this release is magnificent, as they, like Hoffman himself, blend the Arabic flavors with wholehearted jazzy improvisations and beautiful unison movements.

And so the compositions evolve and breathe, resembling those of Avishai Cohen, in which Hoffman made elegant contributions (on Cohen’s first three solo releases: Adama, Devotion and Colors). Cohen also returns the favor and guests on one of the tracks, contributing impressive, compatible bass work

The solo pieces are a bit bumpy, but the majesty of the rest is undeniable. The feature of the marimba on some of the tracks is especially noteworthy, enhancing the album’s ethnical fusion palette. (8.25/10)

These Aussie guys rule! This first full-length release by Contrive (following two EPs) reflects genuine anger, with tight songwriting that is both grinding and memorable.

Their chops are sharp, mixing the hardcore of Pantera with the thrash of Sepultura: the guitar work is raw and robust and the vocal work moves between deep, harsh shouts to cleaner, yet confident vocals.

And the drumming, oh the drumming! It would simply blow you away with its thoughtful intensity. It might have something to do with the Japanese Taiko drumming technique the drummer (Andrew Haug) pays tribute to on his solo instrumental "Todoroki," translated "rolling thunder," which actually describes his playing precisely.

It’s just a shame that the two closing songs (one of them being a cover of an Armoured Angel song) find the band losing its signature tone in favor of more casual hardcore metal.

The album was mixed to an intense result by Fredrik Nordstrom, whose past credits include such high calibers as Opeth.

I just hope these guys will never take an anger management course! (8/10)

You might think that even in its early ‘80s heyday, Saxon’s appeal was limited. And if your argument is that over the years, it’s merely aped the likes of AC/DC, ZZ Top, and Journey, you might be right.

But what’s truly surprising is that the songs on Dogs of War are good throughout. These are catchy heavy rockers, with lots of boogie and some fit, at times even surprisingly excellent, guitar playing. The production is sharp and loyal to the triumphant spirit of the songs.

This reissue of Saxon’s 1995 album, which has proved to be the last Saxon album for longtime guitarist Graham Oliver, opens with its mean, anthemic title track and closes with two live and vital bonus tracks; one of them is of course a version of the classic "Denim and Leather." (6.2/10)

It was a tough quest to find a replacement for vocalist Pasi Koskinen, or so the guys in Amorphis would like us to believe. The truth is that while Koskinen was not one of the best vocalists around anyway, his replacement, Tomi Joutsen (of Sinisthra) is also not of the highest rank.

Sure, the vocal work is potent and overall more vulgar, with the raging growls back in the picture, partially restoring the days, and hopefully the fans, of Elegy. This is not enough, though, as the vocalist substitution fails to be a most significant upgrade.

The new album also revives the "Kalevala" (the Finnish epic poem) inspired songwriting, with the lyrics portraying the tale of the hero Kullervo. The album is adorned with some Finnish folk metal riffs, which are by now Amorphis’ trademark. The typical Pink Floyd-ish keyboards passages are also not forgotten, though still not smoothly integrated with the entire work.

But above all, there is an improvement in the songs – they are more punchy and engaging, and seem to be more emotionally charged compared to the band’s previous release. That, together with a confident execution, is what makes Eclipse a powerful album. (7.5/10)

Isn’t "Storytellers" a VH1 production? Anyway, the new The Korgis release by Angel Air is more or less of the same nature – the songs are first introduced by the band and then performed in an acoustic setting. Thankfully, the introductions are not burdensome, and at times even amusing (as in the case of "Cold Tea"), and so the songs arrive rather quickly.

The acoustic versions, covering material from The Korgis’ first album (the eponymous 1979 release) up to its most recent one, have the advantage of avoiding some of the band’s commercial package (as it was exhibited on The Korgis Kollection, which was reviewed in our 33rd issue). They still sound a bit thin, and I have no doubt that had the band given more thought into the whole thing, the result could have been more elaborate (there’s so much you can do with a three-guitar lineup!). Also, I would have given away the keyboards, or even better, traded them for a piano, as they do not fit in with the acoustic nature of the album.

But in a weird sort of way, I actually dig some of this stuff. The acoustic versions of this simply structured, accessible songs, though a bit thin, make the songwriting shine with its bits of wittiness (such as those found on "Cold Tea," "Dumb Waiters" and "Perfect Hostess"). (5.5/10)

Blast beat sluts, take note: here is your next fling. Nefarium’s musical endeavors are all about the Ubermensch approach to excruciatingly fast black metal guitar and the drums that keep impossibly effortless pace with it.

The sound is short of utter triumph: the guitars have just the right amount of crunch to them to make them kick ass but still retain their necessary razor sharpness. The drums are dry and tight sounding, with the majority of the cymbals fittingly serving as concise accents. The super busy snare and ride have the quintessential, respective ping to them that really gives the music its immediate teeth. Only a bit more polish, depth and power overall would make this to par with the scintillating productions coming out of black metal Scandinavia these days. Still, Praesidium sounds just about perfect on cheaper sound systems, as my listening in my ‘93 Nissan can attest.

Musically, Nefarium is in league with the technical, melodic, fast, fast, fast school that genre leaders Dark Funeral occupy. The nine songs on Praesidium are all between two and three and a half minutes, and all feature heavy doses of blistering speed played by ace musicians of the genre.

Take note, however, that Praesidium is a rather single-minded record (we’re not even going to count the creepy, minimal keyboard intro and the one track of sweeping, warbling acoustic guitar): the music is approached the same way and all the fast parts seem to be in the exact same tempo, so you’ll be getting a bunch of tracks that, despite probably becoming different with time, are basically the same song over and over again, either making this album a colossal bore or an utter triumph in "ambient through blurred, lightspeed playing" music. We think it’s the latter. If Dark Funeral or Marduk are your alpha omegas, this is the next one to get. (7.8/10)

This new release offers an insight into the most recent work of multi-instrumentalist Slava Ganelin yet available on record.

Documenting a 2004 live concert in immaculate sound, Falling Into Place features solo sets by both Ganelin and Ned Rothenberg as well as a joint set.

Rothenberg’s solo pieces actually have much of Ganelin’s qualities into them, most notably the restraint and the thoughtful, explorative voicing. He spawns a carpet of sounds and delivers occurrences on top of it, in a method and articulation reminiscent of John Surman’s Upon Reflection. His decision (much like Surman’s) to perform each of his solo pieces on different instruments (bass clarinet, clarinet, alto saxophone) contributes to the variety and color of the release.

It is therefore no wonder that on the duets, the two get along splendidly. The dedication and attention of the duo is absolute, resulting in marvelously unfolding dialogues and fiery races that evoke jazzy associations while breaking them at the same time. "Grassland" is noteworthy for trading the European sceneries with an African motif.

The crown jewel, however, is Ganelin’s "The Place With the Space." It is definitely entitled to being crowned as a masterpiece of modern music. Fundamentally a spontaneous composition that lasts for 34 minutes, it has every bit of majesty and coherency that adorns fine classical suites. Those unfamiliar with the album’s credits might actually mistake the solo piece to be a trio performance, as Ganelin simultaneously activates percussions, piano and synthesizer (which also emulates bass and guitar lines in addition to its independent function); elegantly leading the focus from one instrument to the other while keeping the others playing at the background, creating an illusion of a group’s interaction and spotlight swapping. (9.7/10)

P.S. Some of you might have grown accustomed to my high ranking of Ganelin’s releases, hence consequently grown indifferent to the recommendation. I therefore urge you to reawake and consider every Ganelin release independently as one that is worthy of your attention, as they are so creative and focused that they make other forward-aspiring releases (such as the Amnon Wolman and Moha! releases reviewed in this issue) pale in comparison.

Sound conglomerates wrapped by white noise, feedbacks and scratches, are delivered in quantum doses on this new electronic/noise release by the adventurous Igor Krutogolov (Kruzenshtern & Parohod, Karate Band), who seems to explore a different ground on every new release of his. This time he does so with the help of a drum machine, a washing machine, bass, voices and drums.

The dose-manipulation here creates pulses, which are not necessarily ones that vibe through your body, but instead they dictate a rhythm that absorbs the listener and sets a comfortable, even if dissonant, ground for him to observe the developing occurrences (something that Amnon Wolman’s Sustains, which is also reviewed in this issue, largely misses). These foundations also make the exploration more noteworthy and not just chaotic as it is on the new, more organic Moha! release (also reviewed in this issue).

By the time it all starts to literally get on your nerves, the fourth track, "white," arrives bringing an almost crystal clear ambience. In quite an expected but nonetheless vital maneuver, violent perturbations begin to threat the serenity, and even though it manages to evolve into a spin on art-rock for a brief moment, it is eventually cut brutally by another quantum of formed noise.

The fifth track, "red+brown," returns the album to its hoarse course, and while the rest of the road continues in a similar fashion almost until the end (the eighth track, which also goes by the name "white," does bring another breeze in, though), I have no doubt that noise addicts will appreciate this release, as it is intricate in its noise-buried subtleties, and rank it even higher than I did.

[It is a shame that this release is on CDR format, as it definitely deserves a more serious pressing. The accompanying artwork (which can be viewed at http://www.escrec.com/igorkrutogolov/), however, is worthy of your attention as it relates thoughtfully to the music.] (6.5/10)

It’s ironic that a record label, in re-issuing a famous band’s back catalog, would choose to put the time and effort in to spiffing up a record that seems to be nigh universally reviled, from fans to even the band itself. 

Maybe it’s some form of sado-masochism that someone would put a record out and then take a great amount of time bagging on it in the liner notes (and in the liner notes of the next album, as well). Maybe it’s guilt? Perhaps some twisted form of catharsis? Whatever it may be, it seems universally accepted that Chameleon was the album that nearly broke Helloween. It alienated frontman Michael Kiske from the group, got the band kicked off their major label, resulted in the firing of original drummer Ingo Schwichtenberg (who later committed suicide by jumping in front of a subway, for Christ’s sake), not to mention alienating even MORE fans, most of whom were already smarting with distaste for the previous record, Pink Bubbles Go Ape. "But go out and buy Chameleon anyway!"

But like Pink Bubbles... (which is in fact, great) Chameleon really isn’t that bad; in fact, it’s rather good. Now, let’s qualify that subjective statement. You should know that Michael Kiske is my personal god of metal singing, so anything that he’s on can’t be that bad. And true to form, the vocals on Chameleon are superb. Now, taking issue with some of the actual parts that he’s singing is another matter entirely...

Objectively, the criticisms are true that Chameleon errs in being far too over-reaching and meandering in its scope. It tries to be too much – a commercially appealing pop/rock record with heavier songs, some remnants of power metal, soft ditties and lots of eclectic elements (mostly in the form of horns) – and paradoxically reduces and dilutes itself in spite of that goal.

But there are still some gems to be enjoyed, mainly in the form of the vocals. The choruses to "First Time" and "Giants," for example, are totally great, and dammit, I think the very symbol of Helloween’s low point, the gentle, music box-like song "Windmill," is a very nice song, indeed; kind of reminding me of some idyllic childhood theme to a classic children’s tale along the lines of "Heidi."

In other cases, the chorus kind of ruins the song’s good vibe, like on "I Don’t Wanna Cry No More." And then there are songs that are inescapably, categorically filler, like "Revolution Now," which nearly pulls off sneaking in the chorus to that ‘60s sexual revolution song about San Francisco... but nearly means it still doesn’t turn the trick. (Well, I still think Kiske sounds great singing that part...)

If you want a rocking metal album by one of metal’s most important bands, chances are you won’t like Chameleon at all. And again, truth be told, there’s way too much fat and misdirection on the album to qualify it as being a creative success. But it IS interesting, and it does have a good amount of elements to be enjoyed. Plus, it’s the last thing Kiske ever did with the band that made him famous.

Again with the irony of expanding and re-issuing a largely hated record: Chameleon’s expanded version features a second CD of seven b-sides, taken from singles of Chameleon album tracks whose choice of being made the subject of a single proves that the band was totally out of it. The b-sides are almost all pretty bad, from the utterly tedious "I Don’t Care You Don’t Care," which seemingly goes on and on about how each pronoun in the English language doesn’t care, to an alternate version of "Windmill" that comes across more as a bad acid trip than a gentle, charming song. The only point of amusement/enjoyment is the "Introduction" to "Get Me Out of Here," in which a goofy, pathetic Michael Weikath tries to impress a "British reporter" with a lame song he wrote ("Rock and Roll All Day"). (6.9/10)

PS: If you’ve already got an older version of Chameleon, you might not want to bother with the expanded edition, as the two studio albums sound identical, despite any purported re-mastering.

Riding the wave of their rebirth / comeback with Master of the Rings, Helloween released 1996's The Time of the Oath, which apparently is many a fan’s favorite. We’re not exactly sure why. (We can attest to that first hand when we saw the band play Los Angeles on the Rabbit Don’t Come Easy tour, where one fan just would not shut up about trying to get the band to play the title track from the album.) Sure, The Time of the Oath has its share of good material, but it’s a far cry from their best records.

The area that’s the most reproachable is the production, which is rather muddy and muffled considering it’s a pro job for a pro band. The remaster of the expanded edition does little if anything to improve on the sound of the original – although maybe the bottom end is a little fuller and more audible... but it could be our minds playing tricks. But as much as we try to get into the songs (and to a good extent, succeed), there’s the sense that the album could have been so much better with a crisper production (like on Better Than Raw). Turning the volume up loud helps some.

But good material can shine through any mud. Songs like "Kings Will Be Kings," "Mission Motherland" and especially the title track brim with tasty solos and the Helloween staple memorable chorus. This particular aspect is the prime ingredient on The Time of the Oath, particularly because it is perhaps Helloween’s most metal anthem-oriented album. "Power" and "Wake up the Mountain" are a couple of the best examples of this, but just about all the songs have a definite square-shouldered sing-along aspect to them.

Of course, catchy choruses can also be so because of their annoying aspect, like on the God-awful "Everything My Mama Don’t Like," which suffers from the double whammy of an obnoxious chorus, and an obnoxious chorus that is repeated ad nauseam. Even one heinous track can really bring a whole album down.

Luckily, The Time of the Oath is still a fine album in one of metal’s all-time greatest band’s discography. Although not really the most adventurous or remarkable, and certainly not the best sounding, it’s still a cool album to check out. (7/10)

PS: This particular expanded edition features an eight-song bonus CD of b-sides and previously available only in Japan tracks (what makes the Japanese so perpetually lucky, huh?). As with most of the extra stuff on the re-issues, the going is pretty good here: the majority of the songs are properly fleshed-out pieces, like "Rain" and "Still I Don’t Know." There are a couple quiet numbers, a cover of Judas Priest’s "Electric Eye," and an instrumental in the mix.

PPS: You might be wondering where the expanded editions of Helloween’s two most beloved records, The Keeper of the Seven Keys, Parts 1 and 2, are. Well, they’re out in Europe. We won’t be getting ours until August, so you can read about them then. We can’t wait.

Alright, Chile slaps on the ole corpse paint and throws its spiked hat into the black metal arena via Animus Mortis. And quite a strange and impressive intro it is, too. Essentially a re-release bringing together a demo CDR and a couple of compilation tracks, Thresholds of Insanity is as cold and grim as they come. How many other bands can claim the same thing? Don’t even bother counting. So what have the Chileans come up with to set them lefter of the left hand path? Why should you shower them with your dark affections when there are so many other hordes out there just begging for a kiss?

Because Animus Mortis have wrapped their infernal sounds in one of the oddest (non) production jobs to come down the pike in a while. Fact: when you’re kulter than kult and more necro than your next door neighbor, the shittier the production the better; stumbling and flailing instrumental ability gets you bonus points. The Animus Mortis chicos have gone a completely different route in both regards, taking their tunes and burying them under a massive, suffocating and doomy production that gives a serious nod to Skepticism’s debut, Stormcrowfleet, sounding like the band recorded the tracks while they played in one studio and all the mics were set up in the another studio down the hallway behind three foot thick walls and a locked door.

And it works for several reasons. First off, the hombres can play – the blast beats alone on the title track should send you into delirious spasms. But, more significantly, the muted sound transforms each track from relentless and abrasive black metal hymns into droney and hypnotic dirges. Each track, the first two particularly, are like treasure hunts as not-so-obvious aspects lay hidden in the murk: melody lines that lurk under aeons-old layers of dust, majestic passages whose glory briefly shines like a faded snapshot pulled from a photo album, deep, rumbly bass that’s as warm as it destructive, whipfast tempos that give the paradoxical illusion of running in place.

A fine introduction to a band still in its nascent stages. Let’s hope they don’t get the bright idea to clean up their sound anytime soon. Along with Canada’s Wold, they could spearhead an underground wave of blackened drone metal. (7/10)

Another day, another metalcore album. Or is it? To be fair, the five German lads that comprise the, um, machine that is Machinemade God lean more to the metal side of things, and all the more to their benefit. True, they pay tithes at the altar of At the Gates in sums as great as any metalcore crew, but they keep it more firmly in the metallic realm, save for a penchant for breakdowns that work well enough as far as breakdowns go.

It’s an aggro affair from the onset: double bass-drum concussion, straight razor riffery, tempo shifts a-plenty and vox of the caustic throat school. It’s all very precise, perfectly calibrated, impossible not to appreciate, if not flat out love.

So why spend 40 minutes of your time with the machinemade ones when there are hundreds of others vying for your attention? It’s that indefinable X factor; the end result is wholly familiar yet possessed of undeniable appeal, littered with enough cul-de-sacs and unexpected elements to keep your interest from waning by track three. If the title of "Friendster Is Sooo 2 Months Ago" doesn’t draw you in, its ominous intro and left / right percussive battering will. A poppy bridge that’s been serious manhandled and roughened up adds texture to the all out thrash assault of "Losses to Lessons." Album highlight "Downpour of Emptiness" juxtaposes blast beats against slow segues that shift to trodden breakdowns while riding under melodic vapours that fade in and out from beginning to end.

Add in a dash of plodding doom, hooks with a nasty / nice dichotomy and a couple of instrumentals, once of which ("Butterfly Coma"), finds the band piling extended guitar wheedling over echoed and weighty trip-hop beats and it’s an inviting stew.

The Infinity Complex isn’t going to change your life by any means. Its strength, and therefore its success, lies in the fact that it functions as a reminder of why one loves metal – or metalcore – in the first place. Faint praise? Perhaps. But praise nonetheless. (6/10)

The way the official story goes, Helloween was so frazzled and desperate after the near career suicide they committed on Chameleon, that they had to right the sinking ship, and fast. Listening to Master of the Rings, the truth of that scenario comes out, at least in a musical, stylistic way.

The so-called "rebirth" of Helloween starts here, with the first album featuring frontman Andi Deris (and drummer Uli Kusch, who had played with Gamma Ray). Master of the Rings is nearly an over-compensation for the wandering experimentation that Chameleon was. As such, Master... features concise, back-to-basics power metal/hard rock songs. This was brought on all the more by Deris’ voice, which (particularly on his early records with Helloween) is much raunchier, edgier and sleazier than his predecessor’s. This fit in well with the sound that Helloween was going for: kind of a balls-out, fun-loving power metal version of hard rock that acts like Guns ‘n’ Roses made popular.

There are some classics on hand, such as the goofy, amusing "Perfect Gentleman." Helloween’s knack for writing catchy, memorable choruses continued on songs such as "Where the Rain Grows," and "Why?"

But Master of the Rings (which guitarist Michael Weikath claims was Helloween’s biggest success with female listeners) has some filler, like the video game criticizing "The Game Is on," which, for a mediocre song, still is very memorable.

Master of the Rings was a bit hit, and it purportedly saved Helloween’s career. It certainly isn’t their best record – the Deris-fronted line-up wouldn’t hit gold until two albums later, with Better Than Raw, and really come into its own with Rabbit Don’t Come Easy and Keeper of the Seven Keys, Part 3. But the Helloween ship had righted itself in a more proper direction.

The expanded edition of this album features a second, seven-song CD that features its fair share of highlights. The first two original b-sides, "Can’t Fight Your Desire" and "Star Invasion" are worthy tunes, but the track that’s the most fun has got to be "Grapowski’s Malmsuite 1001," a thrilling instrumental piece in a pseudo-Yngwie style. Speaking of Grapow, the man puts forth a surprisingly good vocal performance on the cover of Grand Funk Railroad’s "Closer to Home."

In terms of the re-mastered nature of the expanded edition, expect more "treachery." The re-issue sounds exactly the same as the original CD issue. Don’t be fooled. (7/10)

You’ve got to love black metal bands in their quest to be the darkest, most evil little bastards on planet Earth (in name, if not deed(s)). Whether you’re laughing right along side ‘em or pointing and splitting your sides from a great height, you’ve got to admire the effort. It’s just so… cute. And now we have the gloriously, if not misguidedly, tagged Melencolia Estatica. Consider it: an infliction of severe depression and delighting in that misery. Party time! Sounds like a Goth cocktail, but even the black lipstick and eyeliner crowd want out of their abject despair from time to time, confiding that fact to their "Edward Scissorhands" dolls in the privacy of their bedroom.

Melencolia Estatica is so linguistically screwed that the employment of a Latin / Greek / Italian hybrid – it doesn’t strictly translate from any of the three – can’t even shield the glare of the oxymoronic coupling of the two words. But it is endearing in that retarded way which is so endemic to black metal. We’ll cut them (or is it just a him? the CD is devoid of personnel info) some slack. Wouldn’t want him / them happily slitting his / their wrists over some smart ass reviewer taking the piss regarding their name before listening to a single note.

Four tracks – "Meditatio I-IV" – of somewhat primitive yet adept black metal posturing. Guitars buzz in an emphatic high-end blur, surprisingly reliable drumming, brimstone pit vocal exhortations, bursts of speed, mid-tempo marches and a mournfulness (surprise, surprise) pervading the slower passages. A keen melodic sensibility doesn’t hurt, either. Mid-period Graveland is the best mile marker for comparative purposes in approach and skill level, although more accomplished here in the handling of time changes and dynamics.

There’s also a constant see-saw act on the speed front and it works well. Even better are the semi-acoustic passages littered throughout the album. The trick is that they generally continue into the next section of the song, absorbed and wrought considerably heavier as they support the rhythm they introduced or served as a break from; this device adds a low-key majesty to the songs that wouldn’t have been present otherwise.

More than decent fare. Well suited for the happy wretchedness sure to engulf you the next time you’re freezing your ass off trekking though snow filled forests in search of the halls of pagan gods, or dissecting word combinations that send bored reviewers off on linguistic tangents. (6/10)

Damn. One of the photos in the CD jacket depicts a heavily photoshopped head that’s exploded from the inside out: pieces of bone and flesh scattered in an arc away from the skull; those broken bits rendered as crumbled fragments of masonry and dirt. It’s the perfect visual metaphor for the sonic contents of Life in Ruin. Throw it in the player and you’re faced with one huge wrecking ball of an album. Duck and cover.

The band is aided in no small manner by the album’s production: loud – exceedingly so – sharp, clear, where every instrument and, hence, every note, rhythm, riff and passage stands out in stark relief while meshing as a destructive whole. The double-kick drum work by the very capable Brandon Wakeham is transformed to seismic proportions capable of leveling reinforced concrete structures. Add in don’t-come-near guitar ferocity, a punitive low-end bass and vocals that are not so much shouted as forcibly removed with blunt and rusty instruments from the larynx of vocalist Alan French, and it’s an aural mugging of the highest order.

This is a smart bunch, too. None of the tracks crack the four-minute mark, never overstaying their welcome. They deal in a melodic death / thrash style, yet avoid the trap of overt Gothenburg aping. Jagged rhythms, restrained groove, and the odd breakdown avoid the morass of metalcore tediousness. Their melodic sensibility owes a debt to the Maiden and Lizzy catalogue and, on the occasions when they veer close to Shadows Fall or (recent) In Flames territory, they emerge intact through sheer brutality.

Their melding of the melodic and the heavy is their primary strength. With most bands, one is often subservient to the other – it’s as if you can read the changes coming up like signposts: "melodic break: 5 miles," "reeeeaaalllyy heavy part: next exit." If Hope Dies does a fairly seamless job of allowing the two to coexist while neither watering down the heaviness nor burying the melodies under the combined weight of the riffs. And if it sometimes feels familiar or tired, the sensation quickly passes with a well-placed bridge, rhythmic about-face, unsafe speed that shifts into overdrive or pleasingly head-scratching moments like the orchestral fade-out of the title track that ushers the album to a close.

That they accomplish all this while remaining accessible is all the more quizzical. Must be something other than fluoride they add to the water in Auburn, NY. And that production! Double damn. (7/10)

Do this: find a construction site and stand about six feet away from the guy manning the jackhammer. Stand with your legs about hip distance apart for balance, ball up both of your hands into fists and proceed to punch yourself in the face repeatedly until your arms are useless and your face is one cohesive throb of pain. Take a breather, then repeat this scenario for about 35 minutes.

Or you could just listen to Black Cobra’s Bestial instead. Same difference, really.

The sound that Black Cobra has conjured up here is deep. Very deep. Bottomless pit deep. Demons bellowing from the bowels of hell deep. Barry White in the throes of orgasm deep. That this subterranean ugliness is courtesy of two former members of defunct sludge merchants Cavity and 16 should come as no surprise; the racket that these two have concocted is one big, huge, festering sore of low-end abuse that swallows you whole, moves you though its digestive tract and deposits you from the other end, confused and violated... yet oddly invigorated.

Imagine the unhinged malevolence of Today Is the Day excised of any and all high end, or Big Business devoid of hooks and warmth, leaving only rolling pummel and blown out, bottom-heavy bludgeon. The guitar tone on Bestial is so down tuned you’d be forgiven for thinking it was a bass – and the discovery that it is in fact guitar will have you wondering how the strings were kept taut enough to squeeze out a single note of sustain.

Fuzz is ubiquitous, cloaked over fast, spiteful tracks that have all the delicacy of a bandsaw chewing through rotted wood – swirling and chaotic, a hailstorm of insect buzz flitting around you in search of blood, sweat and / or any other secretion your body might offer up. When the tempos decelerate to Paleolithic crawls, the results are the same, only in slow motion: leaden, sluggish trawls through denuded landscapes that house only bubbling tar pits that pop and spit, threatening to consume anything that orbits within their grasp.

Hardcore fast or slower than slow doom, the results are always the same: an enveloping bear hug, crushing, inexorable, forcing thick air that barely filters into your lungs out in one last gasp as you move towards a beaten-down stupor. (7.5/10)

Like labelmates Darkest Hour, Dead to Fall's trajectory away from the metalcore clique has been easy to trace. And on this, album number three, they’ve left it all behind – no ‘core, just heaps and heaps of metal. Is this a good thing? You betcha.

Do they still rip off At the Gates? That’s a rhetorical question. But with the excision of the last vestiges of metalcore from their sound, they’re able to concentrate on the simple business of wanton destruction rather than trying to pretty it up with superfluous melodic incursions and look-at-me-I’m-sensitive vocal passages. And that, as they say, is a good thing.

So what’s left? Plenty of speed, vicious riffs, sandpaper vox, double bass-drum violence, an abundance of inviting stop-start action, riffs borrowed from Slayer, solos on loan from Metallica and an overall feeling of inevitableness, the kind where you smack your shin against a solid object and you have that one-, one and a half-second gap where you feel nothing but you know it’s going to hurt like a bitch by second number two, and that anticipation makes its onset all the worse.

Dead to Fall’s got the requisite skills; their grab for attention comes both in the subtleties and in-your-face-moments found in most of the tracks. Familiar rhythms are just off-kilter enough to be interesting. Employment of slow, grinding groove delves into the death metal realm rather than metalcore breakdown. A low-end bridge here, staccato bursts of picked, rhythmic divebombing there, riffs piled upon riffs everywhere. No niceties found here, only unerringly direct punishment.

And they’ve got the good sense to mix it up in the tempo department, acknowledging that not every song needs to be set on "blur" to remain heavy. Case and point is "Guillotine Dream," possessed of all of the conscience of a steamroller plowing through a shanty town, flattening everything in its path, hooking a u-turn and finishing off anything missed on the first pass. Even better is the martial stomp of instrumental "Corpse Collector": big, slow, and just plain mean, with disembodied voices submerged under layers of murky reverb, unable to flee from its deliberate march.

Dead to Fall’s metal aspirations are well founded with The Phoenix Throne. If they can sneak in through a side door and co-opt some of the kids who find the likes of Hawthorne Heights and My Chemical Romance the be all and end all, well, all the better. (6.5/10)

So, you like your black metal retarded, do you? Stumbling, inept, ham-fisted, sloppy, mangled, clumsy and misguided, yet deadly serious? Is Benighted Leams your patron saint? Does The One rule your kingdom while Darvulia and Furze function as feudal lords, and Dawnfall keeps the peace as town constable? Well, then, welcome Arallu, your Semitic interlopers, into the land of the chromosomal add-ons.

Hailing from Israel, or "Israhell" as band mastermind Butchered "The Hell Warrior" likes to call the place.

OK, stop right there. What more do you need? The guy’s name isn’t Butcher, The Butcher or Butchered Fetus / Angel / etc. No, it’s "Butchered." He’s not a noun – he’s a past tense action verb! You can’t pay enough for that brand of genius.

Where were we? Oh, yeah. Hailing from the Holy Land, Arallu has been around for nearly a decade and this, album number three, demonstrates that the word "progress" isn’t part of their lexicon. Compare and contrast any of the tracks on their 1999, debut full-length, The War on the Wailing Wall, with any of the ones found on The Demon From the Ancient World and, well, you’re not gonna be doing much of either.

And, ultimately, that may be the key to bands of this ilk. Theirs is a singular vision that can’t be duplicated by anyone else. Sure, you could try, but you’d have to be crazy or, um, retarded, to even think about it. And as Arallu trips and flails though the album’s ten tracks, you can either drop your head, cover your face and hide the snigger threatening to erupt from behind your teeth, or you can get caught up in their sonic wares and go along for the ride. In the right frame of mind, you may even do both.

While most of Arallu’s contemporaries are offering their awkward slant on Burzum, this band goes a different route reminiscent of early Venom, Sodom, and VoiVod: thrashy, monochromatic, underproduced and full of ideas that far outstrip their abilities – all praise due for their utter lack of self-consciousness. And hailing from the Middle East, they can’t resist throwing in some sonic trappings inherent to the region; when they do, it sounds like the house band at the local falafel emporium wandered into their practice space by mistake, watched Butchered and the boys throttle their instruments for a few minutes and decided to stick around and join the fun.

Can a conventional rating be assigned to The Demon From the Ancient World? Not a chance in (Isra)hell. The mention of the "r’ world will have settled it right there for most of you, anyway. The specialness of the rating holds as true as the album itself. (retarded/10)

Timeline:

– Last month, April, 2006, in Maelstrom issue #43, yours truly reviewed Maroon’s debut album, Antagonist. Excepting the troublesome inclusion of an uncredited excerpt from "The Thin Red Line" movie soundtrack score (written by Hans Zimmer), it garnered a solid review, falling squarely in the "good" range.

– April 27, 2006, 12:00 PM P.S.T., I’m primed with a micro-cassette recorder and waiting on a phone call from Maroon vocalist Andre Moraweck for a scheduled interview.

– April 28, 2006, 3:58 PM P.S.T. Still waiting by the phone and really, really having to pee.

So what’s the deal, gentlemen of Maroon? Scheduling conflict? Brain lapse? P.E.T.A. rally?

Or has Hans Zimmer got you firmly in his cross hairs, prepping to put a medieval hurtin’ on your straight-edge ass(es), causing you to adjourn to your bunker to ride out the impending shit storm?

Maroon! I’m calling you out! Anytime. Anyplace. Anywhere. (and if you want to fly me out to Germany for a face to face, even better.) I’ll be nice about it, promise. I just want to know the story, that’s all. And once that business is settled I can tell you how much I like your new album as we bond over some veggie BBQ.

Moving on, Maroon’s latest release finds the band having moved through a stylistic shift that should open it up to a wider audience than it’s already amassed. Whereas Antagonist – and to a lesser degree, its follow-up, Endorsed by Hate – came across as Bolt Thrower on an adrenalin plunge and wrapped up in hardcore rage, this album finds them trading that low-end plod for a thrash fixation tempered with some muscular power metal flairs and honest-to-goodness, no-bullshit hooks. More to their credit that the songs’ power isn’t diminished one iota.

When Worlds Collide is punishing, no question. The tempo is usually bullet-train fast, and they handle the curves with skill and self-assured nonchalance. But it’s the departures from the speed-fest that make the album a whole lot more appealing: the pummeling anti-breakdown that is the centerpiece of "And if I Lose, Welcome Annihilation"; short acoustic tracks interspersed throughout; a minor key string and piano outro that closes the bludgeoning that is "Confessions of a Heretic"; or the nastily choppy opening to "Annular Eclipse," the same song that later finds Andre ceding some of the vocal parts to Mercenary’s Mikkel Sandager, who does his best Bruce Dickinson impression without watering down the track’s tough guy credentials.

But when the band makes the decision to throw the hardcore aesthetic by the wayside – at least for a little while – they excel to a degree that may even have surprised themselves. "Sword and Bullet" rocks in no certain terms while "Vermin" contains a riff so undeniably catchy you may just find yourself shaking your ass rather than headbanging when [you think] no one is looking. But it’s "The Omega Suite, Pt. II" that stands with chest thrust out and head held high as album highlight: an epic instrumental that plays out as a lament, with guitar, piano and synths building and then rebuilding sturdy melody lines that protect a fragile core, pure emotive evocativeness through the act of sound.

So vivid is "The Omega Suite Pt. II" that one might venture to say that someone should utilize it in a movie score. With proper credit, of course. If Andre and co. want to muse on that and all manner of other topics, gimme a call some time. You’ve got the number. (7/10)

The latest Nightmare album has an uncommon eclecticness. Classic metal foundations, such as clear Dio and Scorpions influences, are strongly evident throughout The Dominion Gate. After all, the band emerged in the late ‘7’s, the time when the classic heavy metal sound was crystallized. Unlike other bands that are a product of that era (that are usually referred to as "dinosaurs"), though, Nightmare did in fact freshen its sound (and lineup) with a more modern and congested approach, which arguably works in the band’s favor and gives it a strong power metal orientation. The choir vocals and pseudo symphonic backdrops also enhance the modern feel of the album.

After Forever’s Floor Jansen guests on two songs, and this feature obviously extends the album’s appeal to the Gothic metal-oriented audience.

I personally find the sound a bit too ragged and cold for this type of metal. However, it might actually be of a necessity in order to smooth the unsubtle performance of the band, which, despite its old age, misses a refined, technically impressive edge. The drumming is at times rather banal, and the guitars tend to hover too much over the digital ambience of the keyboards ("The Dressmaker" is a representative example of that) or indulge in a simple, overdriven chord routine.

A more colorful production and more imaginative material could have certainly come in handy, but as it is, The Dominion Gate is an average album that manages to rank slightly higher due to its relative diversity and a solid vocal performance by once-drummer-now-vocalist Jo Amore. (5.5/10)

After the Fire started back in the early ‘70s as a progressive rock band (at least so I read). However, as stated in the liner notes of this release, "with the advent of punk and new wave, the band started to write shorter, more pop-based songs." This observation can be generalized even further to the entire scope of the neo-prog movement, and indeed After the Fire sounds pretty much like a neo-prog refugee: very Asia styled with its flashy keyboards leaning, and in the more direct cases it can raise Van Halen connotations.

The set captures the band live in 2004, with only two old-time members (keyboardist Peter Banks and guitarist John Russell) in the lineup, in what seems to be a moonlighting performance. "A frontman, rather than a singer" is another sharp observation found on the liner notes describing vocalist Keith Smith, at least on the singer part (him being "a frontman" still needs to be proven on a visual dimension). The backing vocals often sound ridiculous, and all in all the performance is shaky and out of tune.

The recording’s quality also leaves much to be desired, sounding very artificial, especially when it comes to the drums.

Two unplugged tracks seal the album, including a second version of one of the highlights, "Who’s Gonna Love You?" which gains its charm from being consciously ridiculous.

If it is something similar in style that you desire, check out U.K., a much more talented, original and articulate band that even has a live record, Concert Classics – Vol. 4, featuring a stellar lineup of Eddie Jobson, John Wetton, Allan Holdsworth and Bill Bruford. That would be a highly preferable alternative to this album. (3.5/10)

Stay wild, all ye metal heads everywhere! To you, the legions, prepare yourselves; this is gonna be fucking awesome !!

– End liner notes of Venom’s previous official CD, Resurrection, 2000, SPV.

Branded into the core of my sensibility about metal (or lack thereof) is one trio of ambitious upstarts from Northeast England. Upon first hearing Venom in 1985, the hell hooks dug deep. Nothing else out there was as extreme – sure, the menu also offered the sharp guitar histrionics of Metallica, the foreign but somehow enticing Satanism of Mercyful Fate, and the implacable albeit traditional jack-knife of Motorhead. But like none other, Venom melded punk and metal with frightening (or accidental) aplomb. Along with the Satanism and horror focus, the songs sounded even more formidable due to the voice of Cronos, who raised screaming vocals to an art form. "Waaaaaaauuuuuuuugggggghhhhhhhhh!"

An acquired taste, perhaps, but it melted my brain. And for those of you who still contend that Venom couldn’t play their instruments: we’ll have that discussion AFTER you try to decipher the riff to "Bloodlust" or "Woman." Fucking jackoff.

This band influenced many metal musicians, and although Venom was different things to different people, its effect on extreme metal as we know it today is immutable as time itself.

And yet, my relationship with Venom is one of deprivation. Like a battered girlfriend, I listen for everything they release in the hopes that it will, against the law of averages, match the glass-cutting might of the first several releases. So many people wrote Venom off even during their early days as a total joke while I flew their banner against the rainstorm.

Admittedly, the band’s actual quality has almost always been inconsistent. Even late as 2000, the band’s Resurrection album contained some pretty unbearable tracks, like "Pandemonium," "Thirteen," and the title track. There were awesome ones on there, too: "All There is Fear," "Vengeance," and "War Against Christ." So since desperation is the true mother of invention, I learned to make my own mix tapes long since.

When it comes to Venom, you’ve always got to roll the dice. Hope springs eternal when Cronos is involved. He is the original vocalist of extreme metal. His rock climbing accident a few years ago threatened to snuff out any likelihood of new Venom releases or concerts, but now Metal Black flails forth.

One of the first things you notice in this new record is the mix. One of Venom’s original characteristics, along with the raw punk mix, was Mantas’ guitar. It was always tinny, often secondary to Cronos’ distorto-bass and death breath. Guitarist Mike Hickey (Mykvs), who had once replaced Mantas back in the ‘80s, replicates that signature Mantas sound on Metal Black and redistributes it with such conviction that it’s mandatory to play the record very loud.

However, like Venom’s output from Possessed and onward, this album is riddled with merely adequate high points and insipid lows. That uneven ratio has rendered it difficult to rate Metal Black as a whole, because the more Cronos-fronted Venom the better, but fellatio follows certain prerequisites. So with the bittersweet memory of penning every erstwhile Venom title from memory onto the cover of my middle school notebook, it’s best to approach this new release one song at a time.

"Antechrist" is a strong, thrashy opener reminiscent of "Powerdrive." Venom are still sincere about wanting to play for arena-sized audiences, which seems both tender and sad. If it were up to me, they’d have outsold their heroes Kiss. In another life, perhaps, when bombast is matched with talent.

"Burn in Hell" is so Spinal Tap in its wavering gait, it’s hard to not laugh. One most suspect (or hope) that Venom is in on the joke here, but who can REALLY trust to hope when it comes to this band? An impending tour of the United States bills Devildriver as support . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . uh-huh.

"House of Pain" heralds our arrival into the valley of shite. Heaviness is confused with plodding tedium in this instance, and worse, it fades out with a really fucking annoying motif that makes you just want to hit "NEXT."

"Death & Dying" is an energetic semi-recovery from that last track, but an uphill battle nonetheless. The chemistry between band members is more evident here, though. Drummer Annton (Cronos’s younger brother, in reality) really bludgeons his kit during this song. It’s nice to hear.

"Darkest Realm" FINALLY takes more musical cues from Priest than Slipknot, and the silliness of the lyrics are so "Heavy Metal Parking Lot" it’s difficult to rebuke their sincerity.

"A Good Day to Die" goes back to Van Halen terror-tory but is also one of the coolest songs on the release, simply because it follows as much of a hardcore punk precept as metal. For anyone who gives a blue fuck at this point in reading (not including anyone from Devildriver), part of what made Venom so awesome back in the day was the equal footing in their British audiences of punks and metalheads.

"Assassin" is at least above the five-mark. The lyrics seem to hearken back to the material Venom covered in "Schizo" off of their debut, Welcome to Hell. Musically, however, it’s plod. Ferocious, but pitted with potholes. Cronos’ singing sounds at times like he’s seething through clenched teeth, which in itself would warrant extra credit. But the self-conscious meh of the riffs and tired-sounding structure tip the balance.

"Lucifer Rising" shares a symptom with so many of the other tracks on here. It has an awesome, majestic midsection peppered with a thrilling guitar solo. But the rest is such Slipknot wanna-be abortion dong huffing, I have to try and think back, "If this song had been on At War with Satan, Possessed, or even Deadline (HA! trivia), would I enjoy it more?" Okay, let’s try not to wax nostalgic about 20-odd years ago. Let’s talk about right fucking now. Fine, then. This song sucks. A sad, sad otter. Next.

"The Blessed Dead" is a slight recovery, but as is the case with so many "recoveries" after I lament the glory days gone by for this awesome fucking band (I’ve yet to witness a live performance), the crumbs of sustenance are few. Fuck. This album is not going well.

"Hours of Darkness." What are you guys trying to do, TICKLE me? Thanks, but it’s depressing, instead. Come on, already. I’m glad you’re okay, Conrad, but did you hit your fucking head in that accident? Christ.

"Sleep When I’m Dead," or when this song plays.

"Maleficarvm" is an oasis of HEAVINESS after what, thirty minutes of substandard Venom? If I wanted to hear so much vapid nu-metal that just happens to have my favorite bass player and vocalist featured on it, I’d watch MTV’s Headbanger’s Ball. And the punchline is this: how much do you want to bet THAT program will ignore Venom’s apparently impending return to The United States like a crab’s eye on the end of a stalk? I abhor gambling in any and all forms, but in this case exceptions will be made. Just e-mail me, Hatebreed fans. Afterwards we’ll party on my newly-affordable lear jet while Black Metal (1982) blasts in the background.

Finally, the title track "Metal Black," is meant to be a climax – thrashy and fast as fuck. But... what the hell? It’s only good when it ends. (0 to infinity, and back again/10)

If you’re a fan of Sonata Arctica, you’re a sap. How will you be able to tell? Go to one of their shows, or better yet, check out the dual CD/DVD album, For the Sake of Revenge, "recorded" "live" in Japan, where curiously the bulk of metal bands’ live recordings come from.

It’s a duality of poise and preposterousness. All the while being impressed with tight playing, superb sound, and performances utterly faithful to the songs’ studio counterparts, you’ll endure cringe-worthy elements like cheese-eating facial expressions, the keyboardist smashing up his keytar after the show, and a constant, shameless stream of examples of the "mime what you’re singing as you sing it" school of vocal performance. And we’re not even going to comment on the music itself.

But the real proof as to your misguided loyalty is right before one of Sonata Arctica’s ballads, when the singer barks to a poor fan, "shut the fuck up!" and as he turns away, "I must sing in silence..." We don’t think he was kidding.

Excuse us, sir. Clearly you require the quiet worthy of the gallery at a golf tournament during the final putt, or even the absolute hush of prayer during mass at a great cathedral for the high art that your band puts out in the heavy metal medium, as exemplified in the way your formulaic band writes its cookie-cutter albums in their entirety at the last minute while entering the studio to record the very same album. The same albums that have essentially no riffs to speak of whatsoever, unless you count the guitarist playing one power chord every two seconds, or fast picking the same couple notes over and over.

Certainly you need as little noise as possible to concentrate on your craft of singing your craptastic lyrics about lingerie while touching yourself like a sissified poser.

It’s easy to pick on the Japanese. They’re loyal to the death and won’t stand up for themselves. Let’s see you pull shit like that in the US. Oh, that’s right, your band doesn’t play here because you can’t make American audiences swallow your musical tripe.

So support Sonata Arctica if you must. For the Sake of Revenge is a damn fine live album package with great sound and performances... for what the music is, anyway. But the words "reality" and "check" were never so inseparable. (reality check/10)

Death likes to call the shots with Witchery’s latest offering, Don’t Fear the Reaper. This record really mixes the cauldron of sounds with various styles and executes with proficiency. It primarily has a heavy thrash foundation and revolves on a death and black metal styling on a whim.

The instrumental introduction, "Disturbing the Beast," takes a cue off of Voivod’s "Tribal Convictions" and crescendos into the second slab with "Stigmatized." Think of an overall sound like a mixture of a mid-paced Dissection and late ‘80s Slayer. "Ashes" remains to be the blackest tune on the album, sounding something akin to a more recent Dimmu Borgir, with haunting orchestra hits and dark vocals sung like a narrative.

Although thrill seekers might find this album to be somewhat of a drag because there really isn’t a sense of speed, there's nonetheless plenty of energy in this album with an array of solos as well as tightly constructed tunes. Mixing is on par to what Tue Madsen has already done before with such bands as The Haunted and Himsa. (7/10)

I recently had the pleasure of seeing death metal be-alls and end-alls Morbid Angel in concert, re-united with their original and definitive frontman, David Vincent. It was like a blast from the past that I had never actually witnessed, but had always wanted to, partially because it was rumored that Morbid Angel didn’t play any material past their fourth album because Vincent refused to learn any of the songs from the albums that his successor, Steve Tucker, played on, and partially because the performance was like an extended version of the Entangled in Chaos live album, recorded after Vincent’s (so far) last record with the band.

Yes, this is the "E" installment in the Morbid Angel legacy, which makes it album #5. Apparently, this record is rather hard to find. I got mine in Japan. You’d do well to get yourself a copy, too, for Entangled in Chaos is more than just a superb live record, it’s practically a re-polishing of the great songs from the band’s first three albums, presented with more ability and conviction, and truer to the sound that Morbid Angel has since come to embrace as its own.

No more so is this the case than with the performances from the debut record, Altars of Madness, which are performed in Vincent’s trademark, low, rich, coherent style, and not in the rather black metal-like rasp found on the studio recordings. The performances are faster, tighter, and abounding with more personal flair, from Trey Azagthoth’s improved soloing personality to Pete Sandoval’s chops and trademark trigger sounds.

The album is sadly only 11 tracks long – feeling cut quite a bit due to the noticeably short play time paired with the almost total lack of crowd noise between songs and the set’s abrupt end, but the ride along the way remains a thrilling and deeply satisfying one, proving as ever that Morbid Angel’s contributions to the genre are unequivocally and timelessly impactful.