Horrid like Entombed and the artwork of H.R. Giger. The death metal- style cover design for Rising From the Hidden Spheres shows us a sinister tunnel with an unvinviting construction of spinal cords and skulls all neatly arranged at the sides. The path of the tunnel is paved with embryo-like "pebbles." Of course, Horrid couldn’t ever afford to involve a master like Giger for the artwork, but thankfully they found a likeminded soul for a design merging human flesh with technique and architecture. The Horrid logo is — true to black metal style — turned into an abstract graphic embracing the magical pentagram.

The Entombed bit needs little explanation once the listener hears the first notes of the first proper song, "Nothing Lives Forever." Further hints to this deathy Scandinavian sound are the fact that these Italian brutes have gone all the way to Denmark to have this eight-track album recorded with the help of Anders Lundemark (who also did work for Konkhra and Daemon, to name a couple). Lundemark did a good job making Horrid sound very brutal, vicious and old skool, with guitars sounding very fuel-driven ("What? With diesel?" I can hear Velvet Cacooners cackle out).

This disc also features a videoclip of the title track, which sees the band on stage but with the studio track dubbed over it. They did their best to make the video more interesting with smart effects and shots from the long-haired audience. A final hint to their source inspiration comes with a flash of an Entombed promo poster for their Inferno album.

Robert’s mature, primal scream vocals complement to this, and the firm-based horizontal layer of the bass and drums are deeply anchored into the rotten soil of harmonic devastation, which happens to be the title of the colossal nine-and-a-half-minute, penultimate song, which shows Horrid are not afraid to try out something else without changing the course of the album too much. Though this prog-sized chunk is surely daring, it is not uniformly strong throughout. Things really take off from 3:57 and onward, with several manic tempo changes ultimately seguing into a quieter, more melancholic outro. Alas, that is where they choke on too many ideas. I regret the silly newscast soundsample early on; and whereas it could have been an o.k. sort of afterthought instrumental, Robert decided to include his whispering and talking mode, which is in my view unbeneficial to the air of brutalness. Bad choice. His growls simply work best. Keep thinking about that.

One thing that prevents me from saying that you should absolutely rush to check out Rising From the Hidden Spheres is that it could just as well have been released 10 years ago. Not 15 years, because for that it’s simply too well-produced. But if you happen to be looking for a present for a friend who really likes Scandeathnavian metal, you can’t go wrong with this one. If you’d give it a test for yourself you might end up wanting to keep it. Then it’s off to Uffe, or whatever your mate is called, with a carrier bag with a few Buds (or Tuborgs). You’d almost forget where Horrid really come from. (7/10)

Place Lunarsea into melodic/ power/ death metal category, mixing In Flames, Children of Bodom and Evergrey. While it seems as though these Italians have formed a copy-cat band, it should be noticed that, however similar they might sound to the aforementioned bands, their music is interesting in the sense that they have only drawn fragmentary influence from them. Instead, they have taken the genre further and developed it so that it sounds similar yet varied in content.

While the singing is potent and the guitars explosive, the drumming tends to get tedious at certain moments. However monotonous the first few seconds of the tracks may seem, the rut is broken out of by the songs’ first quarter mark. There is an abundance of vigor throughout the whole album, even if it might get buried underneath the desire to flaunt musical aptitude.

If you like Children of Bodom or the earlier In Flames, Lunarsea’s Hydrodynamic Wave comes recommended. (6.8/10)

Bravo to Oath to Vanquish for emerging onto the international metal scene. It's not everyday that one sees a band from the Middle East make a mark outside their home country. It's hard, and after meeting a multitude of talented musicians whose skills and ambition go down the drain, it's astounding to see someone do something about their goals within the world of metal.

Applied Schizophrenic Science has plenty of ripe moments, whether it's the brutal drumming or the perpetual extremity of the guitars. The vocals are not only guttural but vary from time to time to include screeching reverberations. The album is a grindcore and death metal crossover, not only depicting the capabilities of each individual member, but also reflecting the members’ interpretation of the political slaughter that envelops the world today.

The only fault within the tracks is their tendency to merge into each other such that at times, it becomes problematic to distinguish between one part and another.

Oath to Vanquish’s debut album is a wonderful portrait of musical carnage, whose primary purpose is to show that great albums don't just emerge from the Western world. Buy it, and expand your knowledge of extreme music. (8.8/10)

Otto Von Schirach may well be channeling Neubaten. Not as an exact replica, mind you, but as a filter of his own twisted way of viewing the world. He collects a lot of sounds, mixes them up, spits them back out. Women moaning sexually are coupled with barnyard moos and grunts, and a moist sound that I shan’t comment on further.

With titles like "Cantaloupe Syphilis Gravy," "Menstrual Dolphin Communication," and "Strawberry Phlegm Salad," there is something here for everyone.

Don’t like noise? Don’t listen. Don’t expect to be overwhelemed by beauty, but do expect to hear some things you may not expect — creepy chanting, the aforementioned barnyard orgy, and much, much more. Good luck figuring out where all the sounds come from. (7/10, but you must like random noise)

Danger! Danger! High Voltage! It’s not Electric Six, but Sick Electric from Rhode Island and this is their debut EP. Four tracks of electrified spastic rock a la Steve Albini’s Shellac, who got famous for their unusual and urgent time signatures, repetitive heavy rhythms, and angular guitar sound. Sick Electric’s not exactly the same, but it comes close.

"Johnny Laundry, Jimmy Laser, and Buffalo Murphy continue the struggle against the mechanisms," whatever that may mean. Their philosophy is somewhat enigmatic but there is some charm in their cartoon-esque visions of an apocalyptic surf-party. The CD art might be a put-off for looking "too funny," but the music is way better and shows a band mixing melody and math.

The aggressive opening track, "Heavy Hammer, Soft Brains," has some good shouting and a smart song structure. "Gears and Girls" is a bit more accessible and has softer passages, but Johnny’s singing vocals are no good at all (his shouting is better though). "Laundry Vs Laser" is a nice instrumental where the band really show it off with regard to their skills in maths.

"Errors of Electrical Man" is again a marred by the weak singing vocals, despite, again, some fantastic, complex bits on the drums. In other words: If the band harden up their core a bit they might be cool enough for the next nuclear winter. Sick Electric should have their first full-length album ready by now, so perhaps we’ll learn more about that in the next few months. Worth to be checked out by fans of bands of the Relapse label. (6/10)

Polish Thy Disease have achieved a musical concoction that harbours glacial electronic sounds and blasting death metal. Somewhat reminiscent of Behemoth, Omnium Gatherum and Dark Tranquillity, Thy Disease’s songs seem to embrace the coldness that the lyrics preach with the somewhat mechanical drumming.

Rat Age begins with a surreal, electronic intro that is a little over a minute long. It moves into Thy Disease’s mechanical world with a pumping hybrid of cyber hymns and fast-paced guitars, aspects that colour the album in general. The album ends with the very same artificially manufactured atmosphere, dispatched via an outro.

While the majority of the songs have zest and turmoil, by the middle of the record there is a musical gap brought on by the somewhat lacklustre melodies. Yet, whatever damage was done there was made up for somewhat by the more volatile tunes that make up the other songs, disregarding the drum 'n bass track at the end.

I wouldn't recommend Rat Age for those who loathe the computerized sounds that more and more metal bands have been integrating into their songs, but otherwise it isn't too bad an album. (5.5/10)

Lawrence, Kansas’ Ad Astra Per Aspera carry a variety of sounds to extremes that are immediately rewarding. The opening track, "Voodoo Economics," screams its point home with a vengeance. On the other hand, "Glosbos Illuminados" meanders toward electric guitar bliss, tricking you into thinking that you’re listening to something more mellow. Though to expect such a thing from Ad Astra Per Aspera is foolhardy.

It takes skill to combine what Ad Astra Per Aspera seem to stitch together seamlessly. Sometimes playful, sometimes epic, frequently incorporating sounds that are not normally expected in a rock song, you might liken the band to Architecture in Helsinki. But that band does not sound anywhere near as fierce as Ad Astra Per Aspera. The energy here is less quirky, more manic. A track like "A Fish Would Much Rather Swim" is a good example: it begins sounding a bit plinky, like a jazzy Architecture in Helsinki interlude, then proceeds into a fiery guitar progression that leads to a fantastic bit of drumming interspersed with screams and grunts, all topped off with a Shins-esque chorus of "stand back, everything’s easy." Repeat a few parts of the sequence, throw in some keyboards, and you’ll see what I mean. The whole experience in intense, for a mere four minutes of your life.

Highly recommended for anyone feeling bored by indie rock at the moment. Lively enough to make you want to jump around, but unpredictable enough to make you actually sit down and listen. (8.5/10)

Travelling Light carries the cloven hoofprint of the Czech Horus label; dark sensibilities intact as ever. Some of you may be aware of K. Meitzer from his work in Beyond Sensory Experience. If you’re not, this album is an excellent starting point.

Handsomely packaged in 6" x 8" cardstock, the album challenges the misconception that dark ambient is merely monotonous drone. Fie to that. Meizter crafts his soundscapes with methodical precision. Indeed, this release hearkens to the impeccable black folk heart of Michael Gira, with a twinge of Gustav Hildebrand frostwinds, jailbird Burzum, and even earliest Pink Floyd.

The landscape is varied, with Doppler effect samples slow-dancing playfully with subsonic, orchestral breath. The 14 tracks are compact, even pop song length, and do not wear out their welcome — they make their case, and may even give you a frisky little love tap with a rusty car aerial before dismounting. Some of the voice samples are downright creepy, particularly during "Honesty Through Paranoia" and "Bounding the Infinite."

Structure is evident here, too. Lyrics rarely emerge, but Meizter’s molding of found, fucked, and deformed sound is more assured than poetic monologue. And the booklet art suggests new methods of sensing sound and motion, givens that some of us take for granted until we lose them through accident or neglect. (7/10)

All of the compositions demonstrate the talents of the musicians. The most electrifying characteristic of the songs is their tendency to deviate away from a monotonous drone and instead reinstate it with a motile, free-flowing direction. There is plenty of puissance in the tracks, marked by forceful guitar playing and the unpredictable path that it takes. In addition to the fact that Murphy produced the album, he also makes guest appearances on "Unjust" and the keyboard parts on some parts of the songs.

In summation, "Torture Garden" is an excellent album from yet another Polish band. It definitely deserves a chance. (7/10)

By the mid 1990s, Venom were a name in legacy only. Line-up disintegrations, crap compilations, and lost mojo had driven much of their audience toward newer practitioners of extremity like Morbid Angel, Death, Bolt Thrower, to name only a few. Venom inspired so many, it was sometimes sad to admit that the pupils had left the tutor behind with his dick in the dirt.

I clearly remember the day in 1997 when I first saw that Cast in Stone was a reunion of the original "classic" lineup of Cronos, Mantas, and Abaddon. Immediately impressed by the obvious return to heaviness and conviction, the advantage of once again hearing the characteristics of the original Venom after such a long absence outshined the novelty aspect of this release.

Obviously, a Venom "reunion" had the potential to provide a meal ticket of the highest order. But here was the difference: Venom, in the early days, let their business affairs get so fucked, they inadvertently left themselves (and the fans) open to shit compilations and bootleg merch. This went on for a number of years, so it is small wonder that with the rise of thrash, then death metal and grind, fans moved on.

Today, Cronos is the only original member working in Venom. But he seems to have learned his lessons well — if he let Venom come off as shite, even the ravenous collectors would no longer buy the product.

To be fair, it’s best now to review Cast in Stone as a re-release. I’ve listened to the tracks so many times over the last decade, my objectivity is toasted on that front. To summarize, disc one contains thick, pummeling, and deliberate tracks, all freshly minted originals, some of which sound as if they could transcend such classics as "Bloodlust." Others are total rubbish (a random luck pattern still in practice 10 years later, with the new Venom release, Metal Black).

"Flight of the Hydra," "All Devils Eve," "Bleeding," and "The Evil One" are playlist worthy, 10 years after.

The second CD contains re-recordings of old tracks, some of which seem like they were chosen out of a hat. The revisions of "Warhead" and "Bloodlust" are pretty awesome, whereas "Acid Queen" make this listener miss the old days when Venom was less deliberate, and more full of mayhem — messy guitar solos, incorrect time signatures, terrible mixes . . . ah, the ‘80s. Some of the new versions sound forced, lacking the destructive moxie of the "badly" recorded versions (most of which were singles in their day). It would have been funny to hear them try to re-do "FOAD!"

Along with the impressive liner notes written by Maclom Dome, the Cast in Stone re-issue contains the rare Dynamo ‘96 EP, which was Venom’s first recording with the new lineup after about 10 years. These five bonus tracks are no great asset, even for die-hard collectors. The band sounds tired as fuck on "Black Metal" and "Welcome to Hell," hung over and limp, even.

However, Cast in Stone holds a firm position in the Venom discography. It is the final recording with the "classic" lineup. And not everyone may have been aware of the original release, so this is a fine undertaking. It would be nice to see Calm Before the Storm re-released with the original Deadline sessions included as bonus tracks. (6.9/10)

Tequila is some real meat-and-potatoes hard rock from tough, bearded folks with tattoos all over them. Ironically, at the time of writing, here’s this small article about how Sting sees rock music as such coming to an end and how the future of (western string) music will get back to 16th century lute musicians, would you believe that? (Sting needs Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland in order to function properly. If they’re not there, don’t listen. – ed) I don’t think we’ll have to get back as far as that here.

When going through Tequila’s tracks, two things spring to mind: Jerry Cantrell (Alice in Chains), and early- to mid-‘90s grunge times. Brand New Sin themselves mention a flavour of southern-style blues and undeniable, raw fury.

The song "The Proposition" alone will make the connection for you to Cantrell, whose fantastic Degradation Trip was an irresistable mix of rough, dark, metal blues and roaring guitar with a bit (much) of that white soul depression. Listen and I’m sure you’ll understand. The spirit of Tequila is definately more uplifting, but the comparison can be found in the pleasantly sludgy production sound and the certain sense of anger and occasional broodiness (partially thanks to production by Life of Agony’s guitarist Joey Z.)

On the other hand, Kenny Dunham’s vocals are by far not as agonised or spine-chilling as Cantrell’s, celebrating defeat and loss of all kinds. Dunham’s melodic screaming is more determined, anthemic and — let’s say — tight-fisted.

Another song like "Old" has 1993 written all over it, back when bands like Soundgarden and Nirvana were preparing for their zeniths (respectively, the album Superunknown and Cobain’s suicide a year later).

The opening (and key) riff of "Old" is very Soundgarden. It has a definite grunge feel to it and it’s possible that one may think likewise about most of the album.

Then an upbeat song like "Motormeth" seems to be a nod towards Metallica’s Fuel. The funny thing is that despite all these images cropping up, there is not much annoying about Brand New Sin’s "good ol’ boys" attitude. Well, to some, Dunham’s "fisty" vocals may get a little tiresome.

The song "Numero Dos" is another bit of heavy-riffed sludge rock with a nice ‘n’ filthy intro as perfect as any good election campaign slogan should be. Just real stuff. The song "Reaper Man" features Type O Negatve’s Peter Steele on guest vocals, so don’t tell me them folks don’t know what depression’s all about.

For variety’s sake there are four effective atmospheric interludes on Spanish guitar with ambient noises that could take you to a deserted ranch somewhere in Arizona or New Mexico, with nothing but tumbleweeds and a hangover to pass you by. The closing song, a cover of "House of the Rising Sun" — the old brothel song out of grandpa’s hat — has a traditional part followed by a faster, punkier part and an ending that brings the song full circle with the traditional latin ditty the album starts with.

I get Brand New Sin’s intention, but would have instead prefered a lengthier atmospheric outro in the style of the interludes, because the whole "punked-up versions of oldies" thing seems a little too easy. But whatever points of criticism, Tequila is generally an album that is pleasantly uncomplicated and well-produced. Extra credit for the amusing artwork. Fun record. (7/10)

The Germans make some of the absolute best black metal on the planet. The reasons for this are manifold. One, Germans, having spoken the cutting, guttural German language all their lives, are prime choices in the role of black metal vocalists. Two, German culture being the tough, strict, no-nonsense one that it is said to be, means that such values seem to come out in expressions of harsh music.

Three, nothing fits the stereotype of an art fag than a German can: the image of a prim, proper, highly educated, and insufferably pompous individual who speaks in clipped English and has got the hardest stick up his or her skinny, pasty ass. Imagine Mike Myers’ Dieter character, but dead serious. It has to be serious for it to be good. And when it’s presented seriously in a black metal context, made by a person whom you’d imagine has a frighteningly high IQ, speaks 18 languages flawlessly, lives with his mom, is irreparably sensitive, and is kind to furry, defenseless animals... my friend, it rules.

It’s reason #3 in particular that makes Dornenreich the pinnacle in German black metal. Ok, the band isn’t from Germany. It’s from Austria. But all their lyrics are in German. And since it seems Austrian culture is a bit softer than German culture, so is Dornenreich’s musical output more sensitive and dynamic in its range.

Four years, and no new Dornenreich records. In our interview with Eviga, one of the band’s creative duo, the man told us he was working on a side-project called Hexenwind, which then turned out being the new Dornenreich record. Oh, how we wish it hadn’t.

Hexenwind is horrific. It sucks, and sucks aggressively, which is about the only capacity in which Dornenreich is showing any passion at all on this album. It would have been easier to bear if we could have written it off as a stylistic experiment that had stayed under the side-project umbrella, but considering it’s meant to be a proper Dornenreich album... four years for this?

Less than a year later, Dornenreich’s new album, Durch Den Traum, has landed on our review desk. What will mere months do where dozens of months didn’t? We’ve got our fingers crossed. (2/10)

You can summarize this album in just one word: trippy. Purple People is one of the trippiest dark psy/trance records ever recorded. Evolving, original, catchy, but most of all, trippy. Luckily, the album's not only that.

As with most modern electronica-related music, Purple People’s feeling is really clear and digital, but, this is where it differs, it uses cacophonic instruments as well, which will sometimes make it seem like a psynoise album — if such thing exists. For example, some tracks feature a scratching sound over more electronic backgrounds, making for a nice harsh/melodic duality. Now, if you were expecting this to be a metal album, don't stop reading now, because even if you're a metalhead, you'll probably like it.

Purple People’s leads are not traditional at all, mostly relying on broken rhythms and plain creepy, sounds that rotate 360 degrees. And if that wasn't psychotic enough, lots of samples are used to create an incredibly evil atmosphere, weirdly similar to Kid606's terrorcore-like pieces, but far more evil — things like people laughing and creepily read things. And that's where you see it's a really good album: it's not just for you to listen to while high — like much electronica — it's a perfectly crafted piece of evilness no matter what the situation.

Most songs are either completely or mostly improvised, but they have a sense of direction, and they are definitely not pointless, "bass/hi-hat, bass/hi-hat" stuff. It's surprising that such a long release (72 minutes) can mantain its high quality without being cheap. And, essential in such an album, the beats are really powerful for all its length. Meaning that even if you wanted it just for party purposes, it'd be good. I call that an all-around album.

While unnecesary in some parts, Purple People's drum machine and bass add another layer to the music that makes it all hypnotic, and after some minutes your brain will feel every single bass drum sound. If that's good or bad, you be the judge.

So... hypnotic, trippy and original. If those three words attract you, then get Purple People. If you hate electronica stuff with a passion, however, don't get it, you'll hate this as well. It would be sad, though, because you'd be missing quite a great, unusual record. (7.95/10)

It often takes at least 10 minutes to grasp an album. And then there are albums you probably won't really get until you really know them song by song. That's why I knew there was something wrong with Fetish Coprological Trauma when, after just three short songs, I could predict what would come next. And I don't mean predicting a little, I mean predicting the exact drum pattern and notes. Weird, eh?

Well, actually it's not weird, it's repetitive. Way. Too. Much. If you like metal, you have to realize that not everyone's Mr. Bungle or Naked City. But, come on.

Technically it's decent enough: The guitar guy can play, the vocalist can do some killer death vocals, and the drummer's (yes, drummer!) can play fast and do some nice tom rolls. But yeah, when you only hear one kind of riffs, two kinds of vocals, and two kinds of drum patterns (slow and fast), no matter how hard you try, and no matter how good it technically is, you won't like it.

Alright, yes, grind purists will like it, but most grind purists don't have the attention span to listen to a whole album, anyway, so it's not like they'll be bothered at all. In fact, I can see them being the only ones who'll like this album. After all, one, two, maybe five songs aren't bad at all. Nine songs would be pushing it. Eighteen songs? That's far too much. Replaying it? Out-fucking-rageous.

Which is sad, because the musicianship is tight enough, and there are good parts, even if they go pretty much unnoticed due to the sheer boring overall album.

People used to South American death metal will probably say, "hey, you're missing the point." However, when an album's too much of the same, bands add interludes, doom tracks, samples, intros, *something*. Not here. No one expects a jazz interlude or Bathtub Shitter's acoustic stuff, but God, you aren't expecting us all to listen to 36 minutes of non-stop, generic grind, right? If only there were some good old tempo changes, anything to at least fake a sense of evolution within the album. Nope, nothing, zero.

While not lacking technical quality when compared to grind standards, Fetish Coprological Trauma’s nonexistent composition and obvious flaws will make more than one listener press stop in just a few minutes.

Grind purists, go ahead and buy it if you can get it cheap enough. Less maniac grind fans, there are some better alternatives. Everyone else, don't even bother. (3.1/10)

Its pretty saddening when the first two tracks of an album suck more than a hooker happy hour in the Bunny Ranch on New Year's during a full house corporation party where the money is running as freely as the beer. (Did you get all that? I need to re-read – ed) As for the rest of The Return to Nothing, the lead guitar tone on the entire album is about as annoying as they come and completely distances itself from the mood of the music as well as the rest of the instruments. The growled vocals are horrendous and mind numbing, with the only relief being the soothing clean vocals that eke their way into the album every now and then.

What went wrong on this album? Everything. The riffs are boring and stupid and the amps need to be introduced to the business end of a rocket launcher. The drums bring nothing new to the table and the lyrics are a jumbled mess in the music. Don't even get me started about the harmony [or lack thereof] on this album: the lead and rhythm together is like a big, lumbering troll — you don't know what it is, all you know is that it's ugly and deserves a shotgun blast or two to the head as punishment for being such.

If anything good could be said about this album, it's that it should be My Shameful's equivalent of Dimmu Borgir's original Stormblast, and by that it is implied that these guys need to replan and rethink their sound, and maybe listen to some better doom while they're re-recording this. Thing. (2/10)

What's part Cure, part modern rock, part quirky electronica, and all badass? White Willow's new album, Signal to Noise. Gasp! You don't have it yet? Shame on you and your ears!

First and foremost, the guitars on this album are simply and utterly amazing in the realm of tone and sound. Ah screw it, EVERYTHING has amazing tone on this album, from the pianos to the drums to the woodwinds; even the vocals hit it perfectly. The dynamics are wonderfully done and as Opeth has done time and time again, White Willow can take you from a windmill headbang to a gentle sway at the turn of a note. Song structure is nicely done and each song flows gently into the next one as the soaring leads carry you away into their realm of audio enjoyment and fantasy.

Ok, now the bad crap. The instrumentals can get a bit boring due to the extreme repetition of riffs. Gotta mix it up some.

Signal to Noise is a much needed dose of progressive rock for your stereo, cd player, computer, mp3 player, or any other technological gadget these days that play music. Brilliant. (8.5/10)

Holy crap, kids! It's time fore some grim tr00kvlt sludge black/doom necro metal! For this band, Mortuum, there are a few questions that must be asked:

- Did you record this in a basement through a laptop?
- Do you realize that your vocalist can't sing?
- Did you beat your vocalist soundly with a guitar after you made this album?

With the production being one step below cheesy, Mortuum's self titled release doesn't really stir up anything invigorating. Slow, predictable chord patterns with tones that sound like bad modeling technology being abused. If more care was taken to properly record, mix and master this album, things would have been tremendously better.

Sadly, as is, it's just a jumble of boring guitars, useless atmospheric effects, belittling drums and solos that just don't fit, thrown under vocals that are mixed too damn loud and become an instant annoyance, whether it be half assed growls or off key cleans. Even the spoken word voices don't fit, and that's not because they've been reverbed out past the point of reason.

Towards the end of this album, there are some points where the band does succeed in keeping audience attention, but that's only because they've followed the beaten path. Nothing more.

In hindsight, this album shows us all why people should invest in good recording equipment, and why vocal lessons are usually a good thing. (2/10)

In the midst of the dubbed "new wave of American heavy metal," the big players are such bands as Mastodon, Lamb of God, and then a bunch of pussy screamo bands such as Atreyu, Bullet for my Valentine, and so forth. Roll all that up into one tiny package and you have Shorts and Churchbells' new album, Reason to Complain.

In the spirit of their album title, here's a damn good reason to complain: The entire album sounds the same! There is no way to distinguish one song from the next without listening to the entire album three times through while taking notes! Every single riff on this album alternates between panic chord/note sequences and chugging palm mutes. Alright, so you can play guitar and you know theory, so use it!!! Don't just play the same shit over and over using different scales and modes, because believe it or not, an album made of only panic riffs sucks hard. If this is an attempt at some kind of grind mutation, IT'S NOT WORKING.

That being said, the drums on this album are very active and inspired, which brings a certain caliber to the music. The one thing that saves this album from being chucked into the dumpster are the vocals, which are equally brutal and evil and make this album tolerable. Bottom line on this album, the guitarist needs a severe beating, as maybe that will motivate him to mix his riffs up next time. (4/10)

note by: Roberto Martinelli

I only casually listened to Reason to Complain, so I can’t give it the depth of commentary that Jinn has, but what really impressed me about the album was the guitar tone. Very meaty, and superbly crunchy, the sound is better than most of the higher-budget metalcore bands whose records land on our review desk. And as far as the much-maligned metalcore genre goes (at least, in these pages), Shorts and Churchbells keeps interest longer with their more simplified approach to writing heavy, hard-hitting songs with really good groove. The drums are, as Jinn pointed out, very pleasantly solid and heavy as well. Of course, whether it gets old fast is better up to Jinn to comment on. Proof is, I felt I got as much as I could out of the album after three songs or so. Also, not so sure what’s up with the band name. I’m imagining Hawaiian Bermuda pants on a clothesline, tied to massive bronze, swinging, reverberating things. Whatever floats your shorts, fellas.

Total Devastation's new album title is tempting to use as a source of puns and mockery against the very same release. The only problem is, this album doesn't suck one bit. Combining tons of influences ranging from black to death to grind, Total Devastation's sound is most definitely appropriate to it's namesake: fast, strong, chaotic and dominating.

The flow between songs is good, but could be better in the beginning. However, the music more than makes up for it, sweeping you away into the next realm of chaos that you won't have time to mill over the flow inconsistencies. The guitars are firm and aggressive while the bass is flat out insane. The drumming is sharp and brutal, while the vocals bring everything together in a rather evil form.

Although the song structure is very well thought out, the songs do get rather boring after a while — "a while" being defined as the fifth straight play of the album in a row while windmilling and air guitaring along to the tracks. (Maybe you were just tired. – ed)

So go and buy this album twice. If any of your buddies start to make puns about how this album is a "wreck," punch them in the face and then force feed them the second copy you purchased. (7/10)

So there's the American punk rock /emo / skater scene, then there's Italy's Evangeline, which presents all three genres that America's very own slackers, wimps and brats created on a silver platter in the shape of that scene's hairy arse. With all the trimmings. So throw out your Rancid and NOFX crap (and all that shitty emo that you call music) and go pick up some Evangeline if you insist on listening to this genre, because there is no way to top this band’s brilliant songwriting, complete with hooks, a broad span of influences, and diversity not only in songs but as well as in the recording lineup of musicians, which introduces numerous wonderful guest appearances throughout the album. Finally, the gods are appeased at this emo-related offering that doesn't suck hairy monkey balls.

Congratulations go out to the band for succeeding where so many others have horrendously failed: becoming original. (7/10)

What the hell is this? Music? Hardly. More like disharmonic bullshit in time. Christ, where to start on this failure of an album? There is absolutely no harmony whatsoever. Everything is based on the opposite of that, loosely strung together with basic theoretic rhythms.

People who would find this album enjoyable would also like the sound of nails on a chalkboard, their parents having sex with their housepets, and microphone feedback at high levels.

It's hard to say whether this can be even slightly better than the entire genre of "noise" that's out there. This whole album begs the question of whether or not the guitar and bass were even tuned before being recorded. This album is a prime example of those albums that are only listened through in their entirety because of professional obligations.

That's it, this isn't gonna continue, this review is over. (1/10)

Hallows Eve's sound is a very straightforward one, taking the old school of thrash, power and heavy metal and giving it a new face but a classic look, not unlike a restored classic car. The songs are very nicely done and retain a certain familiarity that is hard to place.

Nevertheless, the guitars sound classy while the rhythm section thumps lively along below telltale thrash style semi-operatic vocals. Spin this CD at parties and lively metal get-togethers, as it makes not only a great atmosphere for you and your metal buddies, but a good icebreaker for the new guys hanging by the punch bowl. (6/10)

Since the turn of the millennium, a new fusion between rock ‘n’ roll and metal has been taking place within the bowels of the underground, giving rise to such bands as Elvisdeath, Chrome Division and Bible of the Devil. Through the years, this last band has shifted through several labels, their most notable release being a split album with The Lord Weird Slough Feg that was released earlier this year. With The Diabolic Procession being their first release on their newly found label, Cruz Del Sur, they are ready to show the underground what they're made of, and show they do.

This album is annoying right down to the last song. The overuse of guitar harmonies really destroys any respect that could have been held for them. Now, twin guitar harmonies are great, but not for back to back to back to back to back riffs throughout an album. A dab here and there works magical wonders. Their solos all sound like the beginnings of most other conventional solos, as it's like their guitarist is warming up, getting ready for the huge blast of a solo he's gonna unload straight into our faces, and then it never comes; jst tedium ad infinitum. Besides that, the music is either too tame or the vocalist is too over the top for the music, as it's pretty hard to decide which situation it is. Hell, it might be both.

While the songwriting itself is tremendous, it could have been better, and their drummer could stop using cymbals to compensate for his lack of drum fills. Either that or he could actually do something more than just be a freakin' metronome. (3.5/10)

Punk as, um, fuck. Fucked Up is here to clear the books and re-appropriate the notion of punk that’s infiltrated the general consciousness via MTV, Hot Topic and the Warped Tour. And let’s not even get started with Green Day, shall we?

In true fashion, they’ve adhered to the punk aesthetic since their inception in 2001: loads of singles released only on vinyl, confrontational live shows and meaty middle fingers shoved up the arse of anything mainstream. But just as they’ve swathed themselves in punk colors, they’ve also imprinted it with their own undeniable stamp that’s as likely to piss off the rigidly faithful as it is to expand the palette of those willing to step outside the lines. Hidden World is the gauntlet they’re daring you to pick up.

Start here: channel the beginning with some Ramones and Sex Pistols, add the sing along aspects of British pub rock or oi, and spread with a liberal dose of the rage found in Black Flag’s Damaged. Now, pile all of this on top, underneath, and in the cracks between: violin, piano, mandolin, acoustic guitar, organ, wispy female vocals, angular rhythms and snatches of post-rock affectation. Finally, pack everything into songs that average five minutes and range on up to nine.

And that’s just a small sampling. The album’s thirteen tracks all yield gold in unexpected ways. Calling Hidden World challenging would be an insult to both the band and anyone willing to listen. Daring, forward reaching and expansive? Without fail. But if you’re put off by music that leaks outside of preconceived boxes, best to stay sequestered. Without compromise, Fucked Up have taken the old, roughed it up and thrown a bunch of new accessories into the wardrobe, their integrity and cred intact. What could be more punk fucking rock than that? (7.5/10)

review by: Brandon Strader

Merendine Atomiche is an Italian heavy metal band that actually started out as a cover band in 1995 under the name of Vanishing Wizards. Eventually, they changed their name to Merendine Atomiche and became a Metallica tribute band, which is where they gained most of their exposure. Over a decade of existence later, they've still only released two full-length albums of original material, including this new one, Raw.

The Metallica influence isn't so obvious in the songwriting on Raw, but the vocal style is a little similar. With this album, Merendine Atomiche have produced a heavy metal album that doesn't really push any boundaries, but it's definitely better than modern Metallica.

When Merendine Atomiche rip into a heavy section, they mean business. Their guitar tones are crunchy and raw, and their drummer obviously knows how to work the sticks and would probably be a good kickboxer. The vocalist has an excellent distorted yell, yet his vocal performance isn't limited to just that. He has a cleaner vocal style he employs between yells, and sings regular clean vocals on the uplifting ballad "Ocean's Shadows," which also features some fantastic blues solos. The solos spread throughout the album display that decade of experience these guys have gained.

The best parts of Raw are those frequent occasions when the band starts tearing it up with thrash riffs and the vocalist rips out an extended distorted yell... At times the music can sound extremely powerful, yet at others the riffs and arrangements almost seem like filler.

Merendine Atomiche were influenced by the best era of Metallica, and was very successful as a cover band, yet their original material here seems a bit too derivative. It's like they didn't go as far as they could have, and they have had plenty of time to come up with great original material over the last decade! (5.7/10)

Ha-ha. Right-click on anything on Hell Baron's Wrath's webpage, and you will get a pop-up message saying "Warning: if you copy this content the Hell Baron will eat your brain during next night!" Very funny. Makes us wish that they have invested that much effort in writing their music as well...

The three quite normal-looking Italians play a simple and unadventurous interpretation of black metal, so uninspired that they actually ended up sounding like a sad parody of the genre. Which probably wasn't their intention. Apart from a couple of childish "let's pretend we can play jazz" parts and some effects from the "Doom II" videogame (well, at least they admit it), on Living in Anguish there aren't any real surprises.

There's the simple and thin-sounding drum machine, the stereotypical rehashed, buzzing riffs and vocals that are too loud. The beginning of "My Anguish" is quite fast and to a point scary, but the monotonous screams and slow, pointless riffs quickly take over to ruin the whole thing.

Most of the time, Living in Anguish sounds like a collection of riffs that real bands use as fillers between the good parts. The best track on this 5-song (plus an electronic interlude) demo is a cover, but even the Hell Baron's Wrath's version of Darkthrone's "To Walk the Infernal Fields" sounds somewhat impotent. For a demo featuring a half-naked girl on the front cover (with a stupid "scared" facial expression at that), "impotent" is not a compliment, is it? (4/10)

note by: Roberto Martinelli

I’ll wager Blut Aus Nord is stuck in a stylistic rut. Now, this is only after having checked out MoRT for a few minutes and then passing it off to Mladen. Blut Aus Nord’s first three albums are wonderful: all very different, and each highly interesting and original. The fourth, The Work Which Transforms God, was their breakout album, and as remarkable as it is, I maintain it was a bit derivative of their previous stuff.

In an attempt to put reviews in discussian style format earlier this year, Roberto asked: "Carpathian Forest: a waste of time without Nordavind? At least they've cut it out with that circus metal played by corpsepainted bobblehead dolls that was [Defending the Throne of Evil]."

Defending the Throne of Evil was indeed an album with much more use of keyboards, and as far as the "circus metal" bit goes, there was for instance that "Old House on the Hill" song, which is a kind of fairground horror show music that many can do without. Some folks can be pretty allergic to that kind of stuff.

This new album, Fuck You All!!!! is a seemingly calculated step to the "back to basics" approach. It could well have been titled Fuck You All, Let's Rock and Roll, cause there's a lot of testosterone going around there. Still, when mentioning the keyboard thing, it must be said that Carpathian Forest don’t really need it to create an atmosphere of "merry evilness."

Their titles like "Start up the Incinerator (Here Comes Another Useless Fool)" or "Shut Up, There Is No Excuse To Live" points out that Carpathian Forest are keen on being as theatrical as possible, call it black metal cabaret, if you like. And speaking of Nordavind: He is guest appears on the song "Everyday I must Suffer," which starts as a real stomper at mid tempo like a bone bleached boogie song. It’s not really the stand-out song on the album, so there you go: Nordavind wasn’t the trademark of quality per se. (not convinced in the least – ed)

Fuck you All!!!! shows that the current members of Carpathian Forest are still competent enough and worth following. Without showcasing their individuality all too much, the group’s members sound quite together in this good, be it perhaps overly dense production. But note that the qualities of Fuck You All!!!! are mainly in form, meaning that the songs have some fascinating structures, with unexpected breaks and tempo changes. On the other hand, the melodic spectre remains a little bleak. Generally the guitars stay within a constant (mid-)range of chords. Due to this, some songs are mainly memorable for having tasty rhythms and a "C’mon, let’s go!" attitude.

Some exceptions include the slow, dragging start of "The first Cut is the Deepest," which is remarkable for some fantastic heavy thumping bass. Here, it would have been so much better if Carpathian Forest had kept their self-restraint and made it this slow all the way through the song, because too many songs have this very same chaotic mix of slow-fast-mid tempo and back again in various order. And though Carpathian Forest are good in handling this, I’m not entirely convinced that this suffices in compensating for the melodic shallowness. There’s nothing short of nice intro riffs (like on "No Excuse to Live") but that is simply not enough to give things a lasting impression.

Still, It’s the Carps, right? And if you have slipped over last year’s banana peel that was Nattefrost’s foul-tasting Nekronaut pt. 2, then this album will come as a relief.

I wouldn’t say that they are off so much worse without Nordavind, but Nattefrost should have his buddies around to make sure he doesn’t make an utter fool of himself by "doing whatever the fuck he wants." Obviously, Carpathian Forest had a lot of fun in making Fuck You All!!!! but I will not rule out that some may find it too much fun and too little to chew on. But any way around it, this album has succeeded in becoming light entertainment for the dark of mind. (6/10)

With their Overflow promo, Madwork successfully mixes apples and oranges by merging metal with pop; the outcome of which presents some extraordinary material. Imagine Metallica thrown into a big cauldron amongst a-ha or Abba, and stirred thoroughly. The concoction sounds pretty original, very enjoyable... and delicious. The first track, "Null," begins with the sound of a radio tuning followed by a heavy verse that you would typically hear from a hard rock / metal band, which soon elevates into a metal / pop hybrid that completely takes you by surprise.

The one plight of this mixture is that not all pop fans enjoy metal, and vice versa. "World in My Hands" shows the catchier, pop-influenced side of the music with synth strings and bell sounds behind lower-octave clean vocals and a tame percussion performance. A Hammond organ sound replaces the synths, and eventually leads to the chorus, which consists mainly of powerchords below a vocal melody and more synths.

It's interesting to note that certain aspects of Madwork's sound stay true throughout the whole song, yet they are constantly inserting a different sound or performance in place of another, which really makes it a bit harder to keep track of. In other words, a lot of thought went into the music and performances to keep them varied and interesting, and it paid off.

This is a really surprising full-length promo from an underground Italian metalpop band with only four demos under their belt. Each song is great, and raises the excitement to hear the following one. The verse / chorus borders are smoothed perfectly, and each section flows naturally into the next, despite verse and chorus sections being either pop or metal. The end result is a very enjoyable hybrid that displays the advanced musical prowess of these Italian metalpop newbies. (8.5/10)

Here we have quite the bundle of fun with Savage Circus's Dreamland Manor. Thomen Stauch, ex-drummer for Blind Guardian, was interested in making music that sounded similar to the earlier Blind Guardian material, so he started Savage Circus in 2004 and began planning the music. The early Blind Guardian material was great with its fast percussion and thrashy riffs.

Vocalist Jens Carlsson sounds so similar to Blind Guardian frontman Hansi Kursch, it's almost creepy. The guitarists have even copied the guitar lead sound from Blind Guardian... This may be one of the most thorough "clone bands" ever (or is it a tribute band?) yet their original material in this early Blind Guardian style is extremely well-done, and it's cool to hear this kind of material today.

Admittedly, it is just a bit strange to hear a band that sounds so similar to Blind Guardian, but Dreamland Manor blows A Twist in the Myth out of the water. Savage Circus has inherited the lust for massive vocal layers during choruses, spunky Blind Guardian-like guitar leads and solos, and the tremolo powerchords fans of Battalions of Fear and the like will enjoy.

Although Savage Circus has pretty much recycled the Blind Guardian sound, the production on Dreamland Manor is a step above and much stronger than Blind Guardian's albums. You can feel the depth and punch of the rhythm, bass, and percussion all working together and there is not a lack of low-end in the music or guitar tones. Trying to describe the actual music and songwriting of Savage Circus relative to Blind Guardian is as hard as explaining the difference between a red popsicle and a purple one. It's the same basic design structurally, it just looks different and tastes a bit better.

Dreamland Manor is a treat to behold for power metal / heavy metal fans, and fans of Blind Guardian especially. It's pretty sad that Savage Circus was able to reproduce this sound so perfectly and put the originators to shame. Carlsson even has Kursch's distorted falsetto vocals down perfectly. Savage Circus has got to be one of the best tribute bands of all time, and Dreamland Manor is the best Blind Guardian-sounding album of 2006! (8.5/10)

Punk rock music is very hip, especially when the cover art is a beautiful multi-colored butterfly wing. Stolen Mirror’s music is very fun, and the guitarists occasionally use effects on their tone to heighten the melody, from the bouncing echoes of songs like "Meanings," to the phaser effect of songs like "Underneath."

The vocalist, on the other hand, is not so good throughout the album as it sounds like he is always trying to push his vocal limits much higher than he can actually reach, which leads to a ton of off-key or ugly-sounding vocal lines that will eventually grind into your mind and drive you crazy. If it weren't for the fact that the vocals are mixed so much higher, it might not have been such a huge distraction. Sometimes he even sounds like he is tired and only half-way trying to do the vocals!

Songwriting has never been one of the qualities of punk rock bands, and Stolen Mirror follows in this trend quite a bit, but the acoustic ballads "Last Time," "Not a Perfect Dream, part A," and "Way of Life" are fantastic, and it is obvious that they put a lot of effort into a lot of these arrangements. The production on the guitars and bass is very clean and evenly distributed in the mix. The drums sound like they are programmed, but a drummer is credited on the album, so we can assume he probably used a digital kit or something.

Stolen Mirror is 40 minutes of straight-forward and fun punk rock that is pretty enjoyable. Stolen Mirror show a lot of potential with their do-it-yourself style, and their musical abilities, but they need to work on their songwriting and perhaps get a better vocalist, or at least put more time into the vocals while they are in their personal studio recording the music. (6.7/10)

Unreal Overflows is a cool band. They formed in 2001 in Spain, yet their sound would have you believe they came from Norway, or even Finland. They weave a melodious web of progressive death that harkens back to the time of such pioneers as Cynic, Atheist, and even Death, while incorporating more modern influences like black metal screams and heavier thrash guitar work. With an album title like Architecture of Incomprehension, you know these guys have to be influenced by Death, at least.

The music is pretty stunning! The guitar leads that open "The Unavoidable Passage of Time" definitely call back to Atheist and Cynic with their jazzy nature, and the percussion work throughout the album also has a good bit of jazz tinge to them. It's almost like Unreal Overflows are continuing the legacy of these aforementioned bands. Sometimes guitar leads will take the place of the rhythms, and that causes a cleaner, more melodic sound.

The songwriting is really awesome all the time, with no hardcore breakdowns or any kind of trendy nonsense that is currently plaguing the more popular metal scene. "Crematory of Forgotten Cries" has some guitar leads that are vaguely familiar to stuff written by Death, which seems like a cool little homage. Layered clean vocals make a rare appearance in said song with a more typical black metal sound covered with reverb, but are well done nonetheless.

Architecture of Incomprehension is a really great jazzy prog-death journey that will make you reminisce about the decade-old times of death metal when the genre was just beginning to sprout. It's great to see at least one band playing this kind of stuff after all this time, what with so many bands choosing to be clones of the more popular hardcore bands. Every track is gold, which makes this album one to hold on to and cherish. (9/10)

The artwork on Pride of the Wicked combined with the hype behind the album made it seem like it would be really good. It's true, this album has its good moments, as does it have bad ones, but that comes with the hardcore territory.

Pride of the Wicked packs a great punch, and is very enjoyable if you don't pay so much attention to the blatant rip-off sections and way-too-frequent breakdowns. (5.5/10)

If there weren't enough rip-off bands going around already, here is one that takes it up a notch. Golgotha starts up with a very short introduction that sounds like a very simplified version of Chopin's "Funeral March." The title track that follows continues to solidify With Blood Comes Cleansing as a The Black Dahlia Murder tribute band. The two are so disgustingly similar, it's almost laughable.

Golgotha is only 25 minutes long, and when the hardcore breakdowns enter the title track, it almost makes me want to shove a pen through my eardrums. With Blood Comes Cleansing does play their Black Dahlia Murder tribute band parts very well, though.

The vocalist spits out some nice guttural growls paralleled by the high, black metal-type screams. They've also thrown in somewhat of a hardcore-tinged growl style for good measure. The songs are pretty catchy, but very short and riddled with hardcore breakdowns. The middle of the mix is strangely lacking. There's a strong, down-tuned guitar tone to the left and right, but the bass is almost impossible to hear in the middle, which makes the music sound a bit hollow. That middle space is also occupied by the bass drums and snare, yet they are not so powerful either. They're not really so quiet, but the actual tones aren't as strong as you would expect.

Well, I don't exactly recall The Black Dahlia Murder having this many breakdowns, so With Blood Comes Cleansing may not be a complete BDM tribute band, but they're pretty darn close. Still, the performances are pretty great, the production is decent, and the artwork is spectacular — especially the band logo. It looks like your run-of-the-mill brutal death metal logo that takes a few moments to be able to comprehend what it actually says, but that's what makes it cool. Golgotha is brief entertainment for The Black Dahlia Murder and hardcore fans! (5.4/10)

The knives are sharpened again. 2004 saw an enormous quantity of Xasthur releases, much to the delight of his misanthropic following and much to the irritation of his critics. Hence 2005 was a period of relative quiet with regard to outings by Xasthur’s Malefic, with the exception of various vinyl re-releases of previous albums, sometimes bordering on the excessive (what to think of a vinyl re-issue of Nocturnal Poisoning, appearing in no less than four (!) different coloured editions — all being very limited, of course). It could not help but make some folks accuse the record label involved of cynical wankery regarding their "underground" release policy.

Now, with the definitive version of Subliminal Genocide, we have another escapist’s wet dream of monsoon proportions. Here are four examples: Blackness envelopes you in a slow and churning piece like "Trauma Will Always Linger," with a solemn and hypnotic metallic guitarbuzz and the liberating shrieks that are truly able to convey emotion, as opposed to those who merely use it as a gimmick.

Another masterpiece is "The Prison of Mirrors," which, believe it or not, sees Malefic initially doing a bit of a tango rhythm on the hi-hat ("may I have this dance, my lady?"). It is a monumental piece nearly 13 minutes long, ranking among the longest of his songs. In a case such as this it becomes evident that Malefic has become more proficient and subtle in creating an engaging development within a longer song structure. There are clearly distinguishable sections that change into other ones before the attention span can weaken, making you forget how quickly 13 minutes seem to pass by. The song is a very strong and chilling piece that shows that Xasthur is moving forward and not just ruminating his pre-digested compositions (of which some accuse him, and sometimes rightly so).

"Subliminal Genocide," the title track, is as grim as "Prison" is melancholic. Without mercy, the song starts whipping you at a galloping 3/4 rhythm with a melody reflecting a profoundly hateful vibe, subsequently plunging into a grinding slo-mo 4/4. Towards it’s conclusion, the song is waltzing sadly to the end like the Grim Reaper dancing over the corpses of all nations.

The album’s closer, "Malice Hidden in Surrealism," feels a bit like an afterthought, especially as it takes a while before the (possible) idea takes shape. A simple left/right channel guitar combination forms the axis around which several layers are wound. Next, a gradual dissonance sets in with the left channel guitar functioning like a beacon in the fog of severe alienation. This "beacon" is eventually taken over by a minimalistic buzzing melody that brings a certain sense of relief, like some sort of struggle has come to an end. This effect could have been stronger had this track’s fade-out been longer and less cut-off, but this detail does little harm to Subliminal Genocide overall.

Subliminal Genocide is definitely a step onward (not nescessarily forward) after the equally excellent To Violate the Oblivious. Fans may buy this one with confidence while looking forward to the inevitable vinyl version with one or two extras. Beauty is only razor deep. (8/10)

A Haunting Curse is a high-quality, up-tempo offering from an American band that has made quite a name for itself in nine years. Quite a name, indeed. It wasn't a good year to be from New Orleans, but Goatwhore didn't let itself be held back. This album is aggressive, well-structured and overall solid.

More of this release than just Ben Falgoust's vocals is reminiscent of Soilent Green. The tight playing, flat distortion and straightforward style all make me think of Confrontation or Deleted Symphony for the Beaten Down, but with a little more dimension. Falgoust's vocals seem to have more depth to them, and Duet's guitar riffs are diverse in both melody and tempo.

Some good, sludgy sections add another facet to Goatwhore's dark, death-driven sound. Zack Simmons's drumming is also varied and accurate, holding Curse to a strict timing that keeps it moving along.

The album is rather short, which helps to keep it fresh, though you may begin to feel some repetition creeping in by the end. Overall, however, this is a strong album that should help to fill Goatwhore’s venues as they continue their tour in the next few months. (8/10)

Heaven Shall Burn has been refining its sound for a few years now, and Deaf to Our Prayers is the group's best-sounding effort yet. Although the production and instrumentation are probably cleaner than they need to be as the band moves in a more thrashy direction, Heaven Shall Burn hasn't lost any of its edge Marcus Bischoff's vocal style is as intense and hostile as ever as he spits out his lyrics over equally insistent drums and driving guitar lines. The band's style is varied but coherent: Each time a tempo changes or one grooves shifts into another, it flows naturally and logically, usually at a good speed and with an excellent bridge, making this album a particularly listenable one.

Metalcore fans who are looking for a chaotic, emotional mixture may want to look elsewhere. Repetition does creep in semi-regularly. But anyone looking for some forceful melodic death should pick this one up. Heaven Shall Burn has made a big mark on metal in a few short years, and it continues to change and evolve positively. Deaf to Our Prayers is a good, firm step in the band's progression. (7/10)

I hadn't heard this Dutch sextet's first release from 2003, but Drawing Circles makes me wish I had. This album is one of opposites: subtle nuances and keyboard-enhanced atmospheric sections blended with hard guitars; soft, harmonized singing shifts into all-out screams. The effect is a good one, however, as Textures keeps you guessing throughout this epic album. Each track flows into the next, practically requiring you to listen to the whole thing out of curiosity and not a little contentment.

The vocals mainly consist of powerful yells, and the instrumentation is a combination of polyrhythmic riffing and understated melodies. By the time it's over, Drawing Circles has taken you on quite a journey. Songs like "Stream of Consciousness" take you through quick verses and into steady grooves while the next track, "Upwards," is something you could fall asleep to. Well, the first half of it is, anyway.

"Millstone" is quick and urgent, "Touching the Absolute" meanders for eight minutes — the whole release is almost schizophrenic. But in a good way. You'll get enough variety in one sitting than you might otherwise all day, and the album is masterfully written and performed. Fans of well-produced thrash won't go wrong with Textures. (8.5/10)

Arsonists Get All the Girls already score big points for having an awesome band name. So, how does Hits From the Bow stack up musically? Well, refreshingly well.

You know that band Job For a Cowboy? Well, Arsonists Get All the Girls are a lot like them. Metalcore so far on the death side that you kinda hesitate to call them metalcore. That, and things only stay sane for the first few minutes of each song. The opening track is a fine example. Things go swimmingly for the first minute and ten seconds, completely with reeeeeeeeeally crunchy riffs and cymbal-and-bass-heavy drumming. Then, a jazzy interlude comes out of nowhere. Don't be fooled though, Arsonists Get All The Girls are not a fusion band of any kind.

Things continue on "Red Meat & Big Trucks." In the midst of heavy riffing comes an off-kilter rhythm that wouldn't be awkward in a Meshuggah album.

Things don't stop there, either. This band comples complete with kung-fu action, melodic hooks admist deathy slams, HORSE the Band-type midi placements, to head-tripping guitar effects and bluesy licks. Arsonists Get All the Girls is like an all-you-can-eat buffet of metal, and it's amazing how diverse this band gets.

All in all, Hits From the Bow is a disc that's going to entertain for days to weeks, to maybe even make it in someone's top-ten list this year. (8/10)

Botch don't need an introduction. The album is Unifying Themes Redux, out on HydraHead, and it's an hour and ten minutes of completely essential listening.

Botch are the reason hardcore got it's name. Unifying Themes has all the violence that every hardcore band has promised to deliver, from Hatebreed to Hoods. Regardless of the lackluster and really inconsistent production value, the fury here is seething and dripping from the frothing mouth with rage. And beyond the anger, there's a cerebral hatred working behind the scenes as well.

"The Opera Song" has a very interesting and familiar classical melody that you'll hear off the bat, and it sounds like an upheaval of angst. "Contraction" also wanders around in a rather odious apprehension before lifting off the ground in a punishing assault.

Throughout the entire album, there's not a single moment where you get to breathe a sigh of release, and that's the appeal of this monster. Songs like "End of Discussion" are dripped in hardcore punk ethics with noisy guitar histrionics of the hardest of hardcore.

This album is necessary for any hardcore fan. Find at all costs. (9/10)

Instrumental rock has come quite a long way since the idea of having jam groups without vocals was first introduced, and it seems that in the past few years the genre's seen some very interesting newcomers and ideas been spread.

Del Rey, though not necessarily a new group by any means, have been consistently putting out mind-altering music for some years, and their latest release, A Pyramid for the Living, is proof positive that when there are no vocals, you see some very interesting ways bands add textures to their music and bring forth imagery that bands with vocals seldom can.

Del Rey's schtick is a trance-like state of hallucinogens that seems to transcend reality. This is an album that needs no drugs to make you feel like you're not all here anymore. It's cerebral in the context that it rarely seems to change, but the entire time you're listening to it, the angular melodies and slightly emotionally subversive aspects pop up here and there. Before you know it, you're not even listening to the same song anymore.

A Pyramid for the Living brings to mind images of a mirage-stricken person wandering through the desert on his last few minutes of life, and everything that comes along with it. There's a constant dismal sound about it, and an anxiety over something hideous and frightening looming just over the near future... a build up to a death through dehydration.

A Pyramid for the Living is an album that should be in quite a few top twenty lists come the end of the year. It's an excellent marker for showing progress in instrumental rock, and definitely an album worth going to long extents to find. (9.5/10)

Welcome to the guilty pleasure of the year. There's no good reason to like Diecast's new album. Why? It sounds like Killswitch Engage. Exactly like them. Several of these songs could easy be b-sides from that heart album. Can't remember the name of it. Something emo about hearts bleeding and whatnot.

So, why's it such a guilty pleasure? Well, instead of taking the Killswitch Engage route and following some standard formula, Diecast actually have a fairly good songwriting skill working out for them. Yes, those melodic choruses are here, but Diecast know how to belt out a thrashing riff or two. Songs like "Weakness" follow a riff that recalls Germanic thrash to an extent, even though the chorus is a little hackneyed.

The problem is that it's pretty much Diecast's only redeeming aspect. These are songs that'll get stuck in your head whether you want them to or not. So, if you're into the Killswitch Engage scene of music, go after this. If you're more on the elite side, stay far away. Or you'll know why it's a guilty pleasure. (7/10)

Some bands think you can harmonize anything and chunk-chunk-chunk your way into a record label. That's what Iscariot have done here.

Lifeless Design is essentially a near 40-minute tenure in complete boredom. Bleeding Through did this exact same album in 2003, so there's literally nothing redeeming about it now. There are breakdowns, there are harmonizing riffs, there are vocals that sound like a drunken man's last words before vomitting.

This album is crap, stay away. (1/10)

A lot of us weren't around for Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. Not Megadeth or Slayer. Not Exodus or Dark Angel. We missed the development of metal as we know it. At least we have Isis.

Throughout the years, Isis have gone from a band accused of being a bad Neurosis rip-off to becoming a band that's all their own and sharing a similar air of influence along with Neurosis. They've pushed post-metal to entire new boundaries and inspired hundreds of teenagers to start following suit. Now, Isis release quite possibly their best album to date, In the Absence of Truth.

A lot of people have said that Isis sold out with Panopticon, and if you thought so, this album won't encourage otherwise. However, only a moron couldn't have seen this progression coming.

First things first with In the Absence of Truth: Isis have always been a band that were able to evoke otherworldly images, so it's not surprising that they've got lost in their own trance-inducing progressiveness. The Isis presented on In the Absence of Truth is a band that lies somewhere between the post-hardcore wasteland of Neurosis, the steroid shoegaze of Jesu, and the melodic connotations that bring to mind Opeth in quite a few areas, yet sounding distinctly American.

With this album, Isis have completely redefined themselves and wandered into territory that's more post-rock than anything this band has ever released. Sure, there are sludgy moments here and there, but ultimately, the band is relying more and more on melodies that are hypnotic and hallucinogenic, sounding completely at home with bands like Red Sparowes and Battle of Mice.

This is music awash in a sea of blissful illusion; a journey that's cerebral instead of physical. It's fragments and shards of dreams that aren't evil or divine, just like broken, blunt pieces of glass reflecting you back into yourself.

In the Absence of Truth is a beautiful album. True, it's nothing like their last few albums, and there's going to be a major dichotomy after its street release, but this is music that's going to please day-trippers and thinkers alike. It's the soundtrack to self-discovery. (10/10)

The new Red Sparowes album has already garnered critical acclaim, pleasing longtime fans and definitely earning newer ones. The DVD release about the record gives insight into the band's mentality and recording process, and definitely shows what makes them such an intriguing band.

Commentary from every member placed on top of live footage of a song from the new album offers a brief little view into the world of the contemporary artists that brought us one of the most intelligent and emotionally evocative recordings this year.

As Josh Graham explains the story behind the record, you can definitely feel where the music aligns with it. He explains that in 1950s China, the government wanted to increase farming productivity and told their citizens to start killing off sparrows. Apparently, when a sparrow stays in flight for more than a minute, it actually sufers from a heart attack. So, farmers would beat pans and pots, do whatever they could to keep the sparrows off the ground. After the birds were killed off, it was found that they were the primary predators of the locusts. For the next years, more than twenty million people died of starvation as the locusts ravaged their crops.

Although the DVD is short, it offers an overview of the idea behind Red Sparowes, which is to evoke an emotion of ironic regret. The live footage and interview with the band makes it a small collectible that will definitely serve a purpose for Red Sparowes fanatics (like me). (7/10)

Skullflower are a noise group. That being said, it's impossible to treat it like actual music and expects massive hooks, riffs, and all that stuff. Instead, you're just going to read this quote that another Maelstrom writer told me: "No one makes actual drone anymore." I’m not going to do a standard review and going to go into track-by-track detail, because music like this doesn't work that way. I'm going to write everything that goes on in my head, and level the score blank. If it sounds like the type of musical demons you want to give yourself, go for it. Ok? Good.

Well, my staff-mate was wrong. Skullflower do make actual drone. The album is called Tribulation, and even if people tell you it's noise, don't be fooled. This is the sound of guitars screaming so many different levels of feedback that it's impossible to feel anything but complete, frenetic schizophrenia. This is a mechanical hell. Complete with bonesaw, conveyor belt, strap, gnashing teeth, and bleeding vocal cords, bruised and eaten through with acid from screaming your lungs out.

Right before you meet the grinder, you reach this underlying zen. Acceptance of iniquity. Somewhere in the back of your head, a Gregorian choir is singing to your demise. Whether it's hell or heaven they're welcoming you too, well... the album's an hour and six minutes long, so there's time to debate.

Just as you feel yourself going insane, in the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" way; the bloodshot-eye and tiny pupil way; the feeling your intestines hurt from belching out enough air to try and scream the trouble back at bay way; you're transported to a coma-like wormhole where you can pass through different landscapes at once without ever being able to touch them.

Your brain starts to produce natural hallucinogens in effort to take your mind off an impending evil, so you start to produce lucid and vivid images of despair. Your mind is a computer with a virus grinding away at your conscious. Poisoning you. Yet, you're unaware of everything as you traverse through time, seemingly like you're not getting anywhere at 186,000 miles per second. You pass through ziggurats and brush, pyramids and sands, swamps and cemeteries; all of these homages to the fallen, forebodingly indicating a future that seems about as pleasant as disembowelment.

And just before you pass into a stream of oblivion, you accept it. Begrudgingly, but you accept it. You're the zen master of the universe. (__/10)

Wow. Talk about appreciating untimely death.

The Black Maria are emo. Not good emo. Not City of Caterpillar, Saosin, Me Without You... just Victory Records emo. If My Bloody Valentine, Aiden, My Chemical Romance and Hawthorne Heights give you a chubby or get you wet, you'll obviously see something here beyond the pre-pubescent lameness and shitty music. People who actually know good emo should stick to their guns, though.

Dodge this fifteen year-old panty-trap album. (1/10)

Metalcore is sort of a dying genre. The creative well has about run dry outside of bands like Losa and Onceover, so it's extremely rare to find metalcore bands with the Gothenburg sound putting out even mediocre music, much less music that entertains. Which is where Unearth come in.

Their latest release, III: In The Eyes of Fire follows in aspect of what made metalcore worth listening to in the first place. There's no experimentation here, it's music that harkens back to when melodic death still had aggressive vigor in it. The riffs are thrashy with hints of melody thrown in between segments of crushing choruses and breakdowns. Not to mention Unearth have a distinctly American sound amalgamated into their music. After sequences of thrash riffs, they'll throw in grooves that recall Pantera.

Of course, you can't ignore the obvious when it comes to this album. Regardless of how energetic and aggressive Unearth's new album is, there's nothing here that hasn't been heard before. It's good metalcore, but it's certainly not The Oncoming Storm, and it's certainly only going to enter a few top ten lists at the end of the year.

So ultimately, if metalcore is your bag, Unearth are going to be a nice little jolt to you, but they're not necessarily breaking any new ground or putting down any footprint in metal history. It's a good listen, but that's about it. (6/10)

Zonaria is a band of teenagers that sounds like they could've been playing their breed of metal for years. Sounding lodged vaguely somewhere between Darkane and Scar Symmetry, Zonaria is a band that's putting out some of the finest melodic death that's been heard since Darkane and Scar Symmetry's last releases.

First things first, the sound quality is amazing. The guitars are distorted and deathy, and the drumming is absolutely vicious. There's a constant melodic backdrop that recalls most of the choruses done by Darkane, which more bands should take note of.

On top of that, for being so young, every member of this outfit has developed some very outstanding songwriting skill. Zonaria is a band that's done their homework, and if you read their webpage, you'll see just exactly how skilled this band is at covering their influences.

Rendered in Vain is a precursor to something that's going to be very big, very soon. (8/10)

Acumen Nation aren't exactly a newcomer in industrial metal. However, Anticore is going to put them on the map.

Why? Anticore is an album that finally takes the obvious industrial elements of pioneering bands like Ministry and Godflesh, while giving them a basis in metal that for one of the first times in recent metal history has nothing to do with Meshuggah.

Like Godflesh, the vocals have an arid and atmospheric feel to them in certain songs, while in others they take the Ministry route and sound like a prophet of doom over a megaphone. However, the riffs obviously belong more to the Godflesh school than Ministry. Although Acumen Nation are generally unafraid to show a thrashy side, they're more of a rhythmic grinding machine than anything.

However, the thing that sells about this album is the atmosphere. It evokes the image of a country ruined by its own greed: The need to have the newest washing machine, but only in the exact scheme of the room's color. It's pretty much music for people who feel that the world is being crushed by the weight of its own supposed worth.

For fans of KMFDM, Ministry, Godflesh, etc., this album is going to be very pleasing. (8/10)

"Wheels & Crowns" starts off promisingly enough, and by the lead break, Demise’s Slayer influence is tastefully executed. Although the song itself has a sharply produced, galloping grove to it, the Eddie Vedder vocals completely ruin the experience. "Evil Monster" is even worse, because the riffs sound as constipated as the streets of Athens.

Despise hails from the Greek capital, and here is the more perplexing element: the copyright dates and "recorded during" dates go back to 1996! If these tracks are indeed from a forthcoming, 10-song album, are these songs revisions of old recordings? Or is this meant to be a greatest demo tracks retrospective? I don’t get it.

Thankfully, "Born to Kill" takes the momentum up a notch. Despise thrashes a lot more on this track, with a particularly good (atonal) guitar solo, and lead vocalist / guitarist Makis Dedes leans more towards the Tom Araya school of braying than all that Pearl Jam fart. "Pray" includes the same elements, to a somewhat lesser degree.

My copy of the demo includes, after a fifth track with more than 10 minutes of blank space, three more songs with lesser production and lesser consequence. They are not attributed to on the CD face or cover. The slightest bit of heart, jism, or even a Repulsion cover song may have salvaged this listening experience. "Born to Kill" was the only four minutes during which I didn’t want to turn the stereo off, crawl away, and catalog my pet dander. (1.5/10)

Yet ANOTHER good album from Cold Meat Industry, this time of the ethereal / neofolk variety.

Mercurial Behaviour is pretty well structured in three layers: vocals, guitar(s) and then the optional percussion/samples. The vocals are the most ethereal part, acting as a gateway between the more ambient aspects of it, and the guitars. No matter how you look at them, they're excellent, and the weird accent just makes them more exotic.

The guitars are a mix between John Dowland's simplest compositions, Akrabu (minus all the Sumerian stuff) and Death in June/Current 93, etc.... While both guitars and vocals in Mercurial Behaviour are quite complex sounding and developed, the use of samples is far more simple and probably the only thing one can say is not that good.

While in some "acts" (that's the way the Medusa's Spell calls their tracks), like the third one, noises and ambience take a central role, in some others they feel underdeveloped, or just pointless. It's not an aspect you'll probably pay much attention to, but it seriously limits an otherwise outstanding album.

As for the concept, a kind of psychological voyage through a murderer's mind, it's well represented musically. The atmosphere is dense, sometimes psychotic, but mostly calm and introspective. The theme of the murderer doesn’t come from insanity, but from a far more realist and less theatrical version of it.

Structurally and technically, Mercurial Behaviour's simple, yes, but compositionally, it's not. The vocal parts are quite well planned, and the guitars are multilayered and harmonized in unexpected ways. The rhythms aren't so common and the mix of neofolk structures with more eastern-sounding melodies make magic with the straight-forward playing. Think of it as a medieval-influenced neofolk album and you shouldn't be too surprised.

All in all, really good, with some little flaws here and there but definitely an uncommon album. (7/10)

Back then, it was hair metal, then it was nu metal, and now it's "emo." I wouldn't like to be a Rites of Spring member these days. Really, creating a good genre and then seeing it being destroyed by countless AFI clones must be bad, and it doesn't seem like it'll get better soon. And it's not like those bands even try, they just play the same songs, change the names and sell it in Best Buy to teenagers. And hell, who hasn't heard at least fifty of those? Truth is, most of them aren't really that bad to the ears, but they are as pointless as it gets. I can't say On the Last Day escapes the trend, but at least it's musically correct.

Know the genre? Then you know On the Last Day’s Meaning in the Static. Clean vocals, power chords, punky bass, typical rock buildup, verse-chorus-verse structures. Just correct. Breakdowns, leads here and there, polymeters sometimes, palm muting. Yep, just correct.

The highest point, if any, would be the not so traditional clean vocals, more like Tool than My Chemical Romance. The screamed ones are just like AFI's, though. Yet again, correct, but nothing to make you go mad.

As for the lowest point, it doesn't really have one. As opposed to the millions of bands playing the same style, the breakdowns are decent, the technical aspect is decent, the compositions are decent. Yeah, everything here is decent. It doesn't change randomly, but it doesn't show any avantgarde tendencies either. It doesn't go too fast, nor does it go too slow. It's not really monotonous but it's not progressive, either. It's not extreme but it's not that easy to listen to. Every single moment of this album is a middle point.

Don't worry, I won't bother you with "Oh, you can really feel the pain he's feeling" crap, and the album won't either. Meaning in the Static doesn't really abuse cheap melodrama, and it's definitely not as emo (in the MTV sense of the word) as many bands in the genre. In fact, the attitude is mostly a rock one, excepting some parts.

Everything that could have gone wrong, didn't, but it's obvious that On the Last Day didn't take any risks here. Experimentation is non-existent, as is anything technically or compositionally outstanding. It'll probably be doomed to be a commercial failure, seeing as it's no doubt better than all the AFI clones.

Just correct. (5/10)

When we saw Dream Theater turn into the Train of Thought-era Dream Theater, those of us who preferred the Images and Words-period just wished they'd go back. After Octavarium, everyone realized that Dream Theater just won't. And well, The Tragedy of Innocence sounds like that lost album all those lamenters wanted to hear.

Alright, no, Prymary’s not a Dream Theater clone, but most of it does sound like a more human and personal version of the same formulas Images and Words used, mixed with Scenes from a Memory's concept-based structure. You should be already familiar with the impossible to follow rhythms, and the angular, almost illogical (in a good way) leads (see "Soul Deceiver"). Technicality is obvious here, as shown by the inhuman time signature, complex harmonizations and scale usage. Except that where in some bands they are used just to show off, here they are used to illustrate the theme of insanity in the lyrics.

What was just said is the best part of the album. Unlike many, many other bands, nothing here is pointless. The songs aren't just filler songs with over the top arrangements and bombastic song structures. We're shown actual songs with actual melodic playing... and over the top arrangements with bombastic song structures — just like it happened in Images and Words, or in some of the best prog albums. In fact, there are not many show-off segments. However, all the songs are unvariably complex and obviously hard to play, so it won't sound like an amateur prog album at all.

Another outstanding aspect is the production, which is incredibly clear and fitting, with a really good guitar tone and overall sound.

As for the concept, it's executed brilliantly. Lyrics and music go perfectly together. Also, a topic that could have been turned into something emo, was actually done well with some good imagery. Now that's something we're not really used to.

Atmospherically, Prymary is quite harsher than most prog bands. Sometimes dissonant, plain creepy riffs are used, again, going perfectly with the concept.

What's so weird about the album is the fact that it gets better as the tracks pass. The first one or two tracks are very good, but nothing that outstanding (in fact, they'll probably make you think you're in for yet another bad Dream Theater clone). But now, the last three songs are some of the best post-2000 prog songs ever recorded, complete with jazz influences, ballad-like choruses and insanity-filled guitar riffs. If anything, those songs alone will make you wish for a new Prymary album.

You might be saying, "wait, a coherent modern prog album?" If you're into Fates Warning or mid-period Dream Theater, make sure to grab this as soon as possible. (8.4/10)

Italian band Scarecrown uses and abuses a formula as old as time itself (ok, maybe not THAT old). That is, a sexy female vocalist leading an otherwise quite generic band. Unbelievably, this time they made it enjoyable... no more than that, though.

Vocalist Antonella doesn't go all Tarja on you. She stays in a normal range, much like The Gathering's vocalist's low vocals. Also, her lines are well done without turning into an ability showcase. Still, her talent is obvious.

Too bad I can't say the same about pretty much everything else. The guitarist has one or two good moments, but overall he's just another half nu metal, half Gothenburg one. The rest of the band is just ok. The production is really bedroom sounding (not as much as most black metal, but still) and it doesn't add anything.

As expected, the compositions are too standard to be remarkable. Besides the vocal parts, the rest are either ok, uninteresting or just filler to give the vocalist parts to sing. The arrangements are banal, and the songs lack a little bit of direction. The counterpoint between the highly melodic voice and the nu metal riffs has been used way too much for it to be worthwhile.

Now, this all might make ‘Til the Last Breath sound like it's a horrible demo. The surprising part, even to me, is that it's not bad. While technically and compositionally obviously lacking, it's fun. Directionless, but the songs are short and sound somehow like if they were played live, so they are really entertaining. Also, the good vocal work makes it easy to start humming the melodies after two or three spins if you can go past the highly generic backgrounds.

You think it's illogical? I thought so too. But honestly, there might be truly good stuff coming from this band in the near future. If they get a more professional sound, start to experiment and drop the Evanescence worship, they should be a big band soon. Right now, however, they are just one more band trying to define their sound. As such, I would recommend this album solely if you like both nu metal and modern gothic metal. (5/10)

Ok, so there are two notable things about New Zealand's Dawn of Azazel. First, they're on John McEntee's (Incantation) label. Cool. Second, the vocalist of this band, Rigel Walshe, is a police officer. The media in New Zealand didn't appreciate someone who was supposed to be upholding the law and keeping the peace singing lines like "the time has come for rebellion and reprobaton, abandon yourself to hedonism and fornication," among other things. So they put him in the newspaper and had stories about it on the news. Just what every band hates, free publicity!!

The band will need free publicity, because the music on this album certainly isn't going to sell itself. It doesn't have much form or flow, just kind of meanders all over the map incohesively and incoherently. The playing ability is to be heard in the guitars, but they lack enough direction to hold anyone's attention for long. The drums are fairly standard for this style. Now, about the vocals. The music is a sort of blackened death style, and the vocals sound like hardcore. It's not a good mix. Throughout most of the album you find yourself thinking, this could be good if he'd just GROWL!! Put some balls in it, man!!

Essential? No way. Would I throw it away if I got it as a Christmas gift? Probably not. (4/10)

Oklahoma. What's it famous for? Yep, we couldn't really come up with anything, either. Anyway, that's where Exitium hails from. They're a relatively new band to the grind scene, having gotten together in 2001, putting out their first album in 2004, and following up with Outsourcing Morality in 2006.

At this point, even in the underground scene, Exitium is not very well known, and this boils down to the fact that you can pick up one hundred other albums and hear basically the same sound. They've brought nothing new to the table here, or they came to the table and found it was already full. Either way, Outsourcing Morality is fairly standard fare, albeit very well-executed standard fare. They use the twin guitar, back and forth dueling brutal vocal styles, and machine gun blast beats to their advantage, making you like the album and not really care that it's all overly-familiar territory. They do pick up the pace and make your ears perk up with the last track, "A Dying Act of Defiance."

In a genre where it seems that pretty much everything has been done, it's hard to fault Exitium for sounding like so many other bands. If anything, pick this one up to hear what other bands are doing, but Exitium is doing a little better. (5.6/10)

Have you ever done something scary like ride a huge roller coaster that takes you upside down, or bungee jump, or skydive? What makes these things fun is the anticipation: Your heart races, you get queasy, and then BOOM, when you do it you get a huge blast of adrenaline into your system, and when it's all over you laugh and say, "Holy shit, let's do that again"? That's what Nevada's Guttural Secrete is all about. After their 2004 EP, Artistic Creation with Cranial Stumps, which was only four tracks, we were all left wanting more. The anticipation built up until at last, they released a full album in 2006, Reek of Pubescent Despoilment. Everyone's heart’s racing, the feeling in the pit of their stomachs, hoping it would be as good as it's predecessor, and BOOM, there's that blast you were waiting for.

This album is not only as good as the EP, it's far better. It's got the same style of angry, chunky guitar-work, blasty drums and sick vocals, but this time with a more "together" sound, and 11 tracks. Again, Guttural Secrete do use sound clips from movies but not on every song; they're dabbed in here and there and not overused. There's nothing not to love here. The vocals on this album are especially stand-out; to quote the movie "Old School," "That's my boy BLUE!!!" Face it, Guttural Secrete are here to stay, and they're only getting better. "Holy shit, let's do that again!"

This one is teetering on that line of being essential for fans of brutal death. (8.9/10)

There's been a lot of discussion in the underground world lately about drum-machine bands and pitchshifted vocals. Many people don't like them and call it "fake." For me, it doesn't matter if it's computerized, electronic or shifted, as long as it adds to the overall aggressiveness of the music and sounds like it belongs there. With Ohio's Heinous Killings' debut album, this is the case.

The drum-machine isn't so fast that it sounds stupidly inhuman. The guitars and bass are decent, but what you notice more than anything are the completely inhuman, scarily low, gurgly vocals. Even more impressive, all these sounds are made by one man. Has this style been done before? Sure, many, many times. But these songs are well written and thoroughly gurgly brutal goodness.

Not essential, but it'll tie your intestines in a knot. (7.2/10)

review by: Chaim Drishner

Inferrnum do not put forth black metal art that sets them apart from other acts in the genre. Instead, The Curse is generally lackluster and filled with enough blunders to outweigh the good points of the recording.

This album opens with a chaotic mass of what one must suppose is to be a horde of demons speaking in tongues. It carries on for a bit too long so defeats what assumedly would be the band’s attempt at creating atmosphere and setting the tone for the album. The production is unsurprisingly lo-fi. Moments of appealing, catchy and melodic riffs are present, to the band’s credit. Unfortunately, also present is a blatant rip off of Mayhem’s "Freezing Moon" on the intro of track 6, "Epitaph."

Even more difficult to forgive are the completely and horribly out-of-tune female vocals present on this recording. Usually they’re to lend "atmosphere," but instead these elements are evocative of extreme annoyance. The old nail on chalkboard effect would be preferable, and grimmer. Also sprinkled in are gratuitous keyboards, out-of-key male melodic vocals and a lot of generic black metal riffs. (3/10)

Angtoria’s God Has a Plan for Us All might have you flip-flopping in terms of what this album is about in its style and message.

Check the line-up. Sarah Jezebel Deva. Apparently she was the source of the operatic bombast during some Cradle of Filth tours. (That ain’t her on the cover, by the way.) Although this album could be easily slotted into the goth metal genre, there’s something about the delivery and flair of the music that makes it seem initially more akin to an aggressive yet melodic Scandinavian death metal record. But that illusion eventually dissipates, revealing that indeed, we’re dealing with the fairly familiar animal of metal / goth / pop.

God Has a Plan For Us All’s first couple tracks are extremely catchy. Angtoria seems to have placed all its R&D in the chorus-writing department, and indeed, just about every song has an engaging chorus. Unfortunately, after a few spins, the memorability ultimately becomes of the annoying variety, the kind that unwantingly sticks to you for days afterwards. This is much like in the case of bubble gum pop, in that the focus of the album is mostly on the chorus and little on the music, reducing the songs’ dimensions and lasting appeal.

And the choruses on God Has a Plan For Us All seem to be cut from the same cloth. This would be ok if there were more flesh around the songs’ vocal hook. This isn’t to say there isn’t anything going on in the background while Deva is singing — the music has multiple layers that are well put together... but that’s just it: It’s always a backdrop. Give the album more musical facets, and you’d have a CD that would be engaging past the third or fourth listen.

Further flattening the album is a highly compressed production, that gives the vocals and instruments a tinny, digital sheen, albeit providing the music with a neat and punchy sound.

Finally, the intent of the lyrical themes are often muddled with the actual emotional delivery of the vocals. God Has a Plan For Us All is largely a cynical album that deals with hatred, revenge, and hurt. This is no more so than the title track, whose sarcastic theme is of a child whose divine "plan" is to be molested by a priest. However, if you merely listen to the timbre of the chorus, and the sound of the vocals, you’d firmly believe that Angtoria is a Christian band. Likewise, sections where the lyrics would benefit from angst, despair, or intensity are invariably delivered with the same emotional level of prettiness and sweetness. This detracts from the conviction of the subject matter of the album.

In the end, Angtoria’s debut is a collection of palpable, even enjoyable, but ultimately shallow songs that benefit from excellent execution, a solid, clear-cut style and a sense of how to make music pleasant to the ear. (6.2/10)

Ah, vinyl. There’s still something so warm and immediate about the format that CDs, and certainly downloads, can never approximate. More tactile, bigger, solid, even the scent hints at treasures hidden within its groove. And a larger palette for the artwork, where the visuals have room to breathe, gives a broader impression of what waits inside before the needle ever hits wax.

If you’re in the market for some dead of the night, backwoods creepiness, then Black Happy Day will merrily guide you through swamplands and blighted forests. Ghosts are indeed abundant on In the Garden of Ghostflowers; what they want is never quite clear — do they merely desire to warm their hollow bones next to your campfire, or will they leap through the flames and pull breath from the ladder of your ribcage for just a fleeting taste of the bittersweet exhalation of life that they can never own again?

The duo of Tara Vanflower and Timothy Renner provide the voices: shimmering, fleeting, strong and insistent, fragile and translucent, messengers with only the energy to break into this realm and deliver their missives, evaporating before the last syllable has rung through the trees.

Had they relied only on a cappella phrasings, In the Garden of Ghostflowers would have still birthed a disquieting collection of drones and atmospheric wanderings. But their implementation of instrumentation and sound effects augment their voices, providing extra color, larger backdrops over which to spin their unsettled tales.

Steel-stringed guitar turns a traditional number like "Edward" into a warped raga folk ditty, Vanflower and Renner trading lines back forth, parting lovers unable to release their embrace as keening animals provide a shifting backdrop. Gouts of water emulate a crackling fire as incantations are recited on "Wolf & Hare," the fire slowly subdued by a sparse acoustic guitar dirge that plaintively overlaps desiccated vocal swaths by Renner. "Whore" evokes a clearer, less abstract version of Liz Harris’ work in Grouper; Vanflowers’ lamentations undulating over misty, uneven ground and mysterious drones carry her voice forward like rickety carts, finally breaking down in a drift of electronic gurgles and flutters, passage into a different plane.

But for sheer hair-on-end, mysterious-sound-from-under-the-bed, get-me-the-hell-out-of-here eeriness, "Of the Wind and Loneliness" trumps all. Imagine being lost in the woods, you round a bend to find a grown woman with a distressingly child-like face sitting cross-legged on the ground, twigs are sticking out of her hair, a tattered, gossamer sundress hangs from her shoulders and smudges of dirt and bruises peeking through every tear and hole in the material. In her lap, she works a musicbox through erratic paces, her voice girlishly tra-la-la-ing and out of step with the notes, a mixture of vacancy and bemusement shining in her eyes. Your impulse is to help but for the seven foot behemoth standing behind her muttering non-descript sounds from a cavernous chest, his eyes conveying both protectiveness and pleading. And you know, intrinsically, that one of them is going to leap at you at any moment while the other mourns that they can’t prevent it from happening.

Black Happy Day taps into a realm devoid of any era, an agelessness where voices thrown to the prevailing winds are all that’s necessary to carry their stories across time and space. (8/10)

In Borrowed Plumes is a rather fascinating marriage of various extreme metal styles, punctuated by highly effective quiet, relaxed parts, and tremendously dynamic push and pull. Most importantly, the 25-minute mini-CD is imbued with tremendously edgy energy that keeps the listener’s interest.

You can’t say the musicianship is sloppy. Nor can you say that the production is muddy. You might be able to say that there’s a definite occult vibe about Ebola’s work here; a sort of alluringly dark, explosive, convincingly mentally and emotionally unhinged feel about the music that’s exploding with blast beats one second and waxing introspective and cathartic the next.

Leading the straight jacket-wearing charge is the vocalist, who’s range of delivery in his screaming is unusually broad and always convincing. Ok, you can’t say that the clean vocals are particularly talented or ever really in key, but they succeed in keeping you under the impression that all is really not well with this guy and his escaped inmate friends.

What this all boils down to is a very uncommon album. Ebola has a unique style and energy that seems like it might come derailed at any moment, but it never does. Instead, it translates into greater appeal. Hey, that seems to gel with one of Rick Rubin’s great teachings. See our interview with Paul Bostaph in this issue for more on that. (7.8/10)

Meat and potatoes death / grind, no room for niceties or restraint, where surrender is a dirty word and weapons set on anything less then obliterate is strictly for pussies. That’s the world of Misery Index, and if you can’t take the heat, pal, you know where the door is, get to steppin’.

On their second full length, Misery Index has honed their attack down to an exact science — no excess, no fat, just pure pinpoint aggression. Every track barrels along with impunity within its two- to four-minute framework, terminates, next track starts, repeat. You wouldn’t want a steady diet of this stuff, lord knows, but if you have 30 minutes to spare every now and again, there’s a hardly better ride out there.

So, yeah, it’s all teeth gnashing, arm flailing and full body convulsions. The riffs are beyond whipfast, Jason Netherton’s vox caustic enough to strip paint and, in drummer Adam Jarvis, they’ve got an absolute beast behind the kit; his speed and accuracy enough to embarrass most other drummers in the field and his tireless double kick work enough to make those same hitters wish they’d never added a second bass drum to their set up.

Those elements alone lift them up among the likes of Dying Fetus (of which two of the current members are alums), Circle of Dead Children and forefathers Napalm Death. What keeps them in that upper echelon is subtle nuances scattered to and fro: brief, mid-tempo (by comparison) slow-downs, a brief melodic refrain on one track, ascending dual guitar work that finds its way into another and jumpy, gone-before-you-know-it leads intruding on several others. These deviations don’t pretty up any of the songs; they’re prickly all by their lonesome and the contrast makes their de rigueur issue brutality just that much more damaging. (7/10)

It’s time to hang up the Irons.

Yes, the new Iron Maiden sucks. We’ll spare you our version of where the band came from, their discography and why they’re so important, and rather explain why this is not an album to spend money on. Here we go.

– You might have heard that A Matter of Life and Death is "more progressive." Don’t believe it, unless if by "progressive," you mean the songs are longer. Then, yes, it is "progressive." And we love prog at Maelstrom, so we’re certainly not allergic to long songs. But we do notice when songs are needlessly long and numbingly repetitive, which is the case with just about every song on this album, which averages seven and a half minutes per track. Actually, make that every song — you’ll wish each one would be over well before it actually is. Meanwhile, Iron Maiden’s most progressive album is 1988's Seventh Son of a Seventh Son. Check it out.

– Iron Maiden’s had epic tracks. "Alexander the Great," "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," "Seventh Son of a Seventh Son" are titles that come most easily to mind. And Iron Maiden could always pull it off, because what made them so great were their lengthy instrumental journeys and extended melodic guitar solos. Even shorter tracks like "The Duelists" and "Wasted Years" had an epic feel to them because of the depth of their instrumentals. Remember those days? Iron Maiden doesn’t do that anymore. Ok, there is a hint of what made this fan a fan on "The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg," but it’s only in comparison of what’s not going on in the rest of the album.

– Ever since Bruce Dickinson re-joined Iron Maiden, anything that he’s sung on — both his main band and his solo band — has been horribly repetitive lyrically. Even songs that were pretty good like "Ghost of the Navigator" and "Brave New World" drove the excellent choruses into the ground.

– And so we ask again: Why does Iron Maiden have three guitarists? It barely needs even two anymore. For perhaps the most influential band in metal, ever, the riffs are pretty scarce on A Matter of Life and Death, where the band that was king is now often reduced to playing the most lay power chords in guise of instrumental remarkability.

– The general pace and energy of this album merely lopes around from track to track. Iron Maiden did use to have fast-paced, charging songs, didn’t they?

– And finally, the production is deplorable. This might be the single biggest nail in A Matter of Life and Death’s coffin. Simply, the album doesn’t sound like a metal album. It is woefully underproduced for the genre. Nicko McBrain has a huge kit in real life, but on record it sounds like a basic set-up you’d buy a beginner. Bruce Dickinson has one of the most celebrated voices ever, but here it’s largely limited to a single, dry, suffocated layer.

Apparently, the powers that be are trying to go for a "live" sound, but even Live After Death has way more balls and immediacy than this, which is in this case naught. Thin, unlayered, reserved sound... ok for lite rock, but this is fucking metal, right? Right?

It’s nearly scary to think that Iron Maiden’s last great triumph was in 1988, nearly TWENTY years ago. And they’re still lumbering around. It seemed things would take a turn for the better with Brave New World, but that was really just in comparison to the place that the band was before that, which couldn’t have gotten any worse. Since then, it’s been bland, underproduced albums with lethargic energy, thereby making each successive tour less and less attractive as this inane material takes over more of the set list each time. Please, please stop. (3/10)

PS: At least they’re not using any more of Derek Riggs’ retarded computer-generated art, which he abandoned his trademark paintings for long ago... although it’s sad that this is the first Iron Maiden album cover not to be by him.

Thank god. After having lost much faith in good old heavy metal from having reviewed Iron Maiden’s latest, the fires are re-kindled with Dream Evil’s United.

Make no mistake, Dream Evil are the disputable kings of unabashed metal cheese. We’re talking about mega-anthems written about and for the glory of metal music.

But Dream Evil have got some elements about them that can make their songs damn hard not to like, and United is without a doubt the least resistible album this Swedish outfit has done yet. Number one is a singer that any melodic metal band would give their eyeteeth for, Niklas Isfeldt, who’s never sounded so stirring and powerful. The man’s voice is amazing, and the production brings him out the best when he’s needed the most: during the choruses.

Those are elements numbers 2 and 3. Dream Evil benefits having Fredrik Nordstrom more as a world-class producer than they do a competent rhythm guitarist. It’s better this way, trust us. Element three is the absolutely massive, dare we say patriotic, choruses, and what anthemic metal band would be worth its salt without that?

Sure, Dream Evil has always been able to write a catchy song... sometimes for worse than for better. The band’s previous album, The Book of Heavy Metal, had its share of hook-laden songs, but there was a definite unevenness in quality and originality — some of the songs’ elements felt a little too borrowed. Not on United. This is Dream Evil’s most uniformly solid and original work.

How enjoyable is the album? Put it this way: As soon as we finished listening to it, we immediately played it again. That’s saying a tremendous amount for having thousands of CDs and running a zine. And while we will admit that the album might be a little too single-mindedly catchy and anthemic for us to listen to it over and over and over again in a short period (at the risk of us becoming so sick of the choruses stuck in our heads), we know we’ll be coming back to the album again. If you're a heavy metal fan, so will you. (8.5/10)

Singers with a pronounced style that one might charitably call "wacky" have a polarizing effect on an audience. Take Scissorfight. I’ve got a friend who will, under no circumstances, listen to the band because of the exaggerated, drunken, mountain man hollering of vocalist Ironlung. Doesn’t matter how much the music destroys, ol’ Ironlung ruins any chance of him and Scissorfight having a long and fruitful relationship. Me? I see his point, but for whatever reasons I’m able to tolerate our buddy Ironlung’s distinctive beer-soaked bellow and enjoy the living hell out of his band’s records.

Which brings us, conveniently, to The International Playboys. Can’t quite put a finger on it, but the nasal whine of Monty Carlo (sigh, groan, etc.) makes me want to stick ice picks in both ears and excise his sub-David Yow stylings from my auditory canals. Which is a shame too, because underneath that voice the rest of the band dishes up a not unpleasant mix of trashy, late ‘60s Detroit rock & roll muscularity stuck into a pile of ramshackle, early era, ZZ Top boogie and paints it with a liberal overcoat of dirty fingernails, grease and sleaze.

The band careens at hip-swinging tempos, all sweat and grit; the music a wide-lapelled interlocutor between the band and free, end-of-the-night drinks leading to quick and dirty bathroom stall sex with a willing barmaid. They throw in enough curves — slide guitar, harmonica, a rude country interlude, some blues riffs — to keep it interesting, and the whole shebang stumbles along with a genial, don’t-give-a-shit attitude.

Surprisingly, Monsieur Carlo reins it in just enough to make album closer "Bandit" an enjoyable ride. Opening with pensive bass and guitar interplay perched atop rolling drums, the track veers back and forth between weary psychedelia, southern jams, foot stompin’ garage and dusty western balladry; it’s a fractured epic that terminates at the end of the road, where the asphalt is all torn to hell, the local bar hasn’t poured a drop in years and the only sign of life is the buckshot spray peppering a broken "road closed" sign. A few more tracks like this, coupled with a very tight leash secured around our boy Monty’s vocal proclivities, and The International Playboys will have me striding towards, rather than away from their next release. (6/10 if Monty Carlo doesn’t induce you to take sharp objects to your eardrums, 4/10 if you need to go that route.)

Is this the dawn of a kinder, gentler Gorch Fock? Their previous two albums were headlong dives into bottomless pits of chaos, ominous excursions where sanity was but a mere concept and every space was filled by psychotropic visions that led to environs not suited for the minds of man or beast. And quite the satisfying headfuck they were, too.

Maturity can be an ugly word, so let’s just say that with Thriller, Gorch Fock has gotten in touch with a new found desire to rock, replete with moments of clarity devoid of hallucinations filled by candy colored demons, imploding horizons and animals that speak in tongues. Make no mistake, their sound is still far, far off the beaten path of reason and common sense, but every so often you’ll come upon a sign post directing you to vaguely recognizable terrain.

The influence of the late and much lamented Cows is all over the place. Their inclusion of trombone (as opposed to Cows’ trumpet) dumped incongruously into the mix is absurd, yet at the same time you can’t imagine any of the songs without it. If anything, it’s the subversive driving force behind their sound. The other element that Gorch Fock has so studiously lifted from their predecessors is the aura of barely contained cohesion, that each track is just a step away from total collapse and the very thing keeping it aloft — their ability to keep a dozen balls in the air while blindfolded and walking a tightrope — is the same thing that makes it such a jittery and unpredictable ride.

And that same unpredictability is the key to their success in that each track finds a disparate method that quells any attempt to corner the band. Highlights? "Fitzcarroldo" is doomy, in a kinda-sorta weird-ass manner. "Patience for the Swede" rocks in, well, a kinda-sorta weird-ass manner.

With the glorious "Randall J. ‘Biscuit’ Turner (Country Gentleman)," Gorch Fock appropriate the early post-rock tropes of Bitch Magnet and Slint and make it both catchier and heavier, infusing it with a convict-on-the-loose danger. And for sheer epicness, they top themselves with "Running out of Gas in Prarieview Parish"; as close to straightforward as they’ll probably ever get. It’s an evocative, mid-tempo slog with instrumental hooks galore, moments of restraint littered among cacophonous outbursts and an honest to goodness vocal bridge stringing the whole thing together.

Like a doll’s head melted in an oven, Gorch Fock takes a recognizable form and recasts it as a deformed and unsightly creature; hints of what was once pristine still push through the surface, a scarred reminder of its former state. Thriller is nothing less than a beautiful monster. (7.5/10)

Act of Attrition is an interesting one, if only because of the disconnect between attitude and execution. It combines a Satanic, black metal mentality with a more moderate musical style: some harmonized singing, slow, melodic guitar lines and down-tempo drumming fall among the harder portions.

Of course, these more peculiar sections are worked in around eerie screeching, quick drums and groove-based guitar lines, which helps it retain some of its edge. The overall effect may make Autumn's End less scary than it tries to be, but in the end, Act of Attrition is a listenable, rocky release that will appeal more to fans of classic death than to those of more exotic genres.

The bland intros, predictable grooves and simple rhythms that compose the majority of the album are its main weaknesses. Sometimes the speed is there, and a grinding groove hits just right to make you start to nod your head, but Act of Attrition is rife with repetition that gets quickly tiresome. Sludgy sections break up the faster grooves, but after the first repetition they also start to wear on the ear.

Autumn's End's grooves just aren't engaging after the first listen, though I could see them going over well at a live performance. Predictability is a death blow to any sort of metal, and you can see where Act of Attrition is going long before it gets there. It's not an unforgivably weak release, as there are some well-played solos and nothing that completely flops, but you wouldn't go wrong to demand a little more from your music purchases. (5.5/10)

Unleashed are one of the most distinct death metal bands to have emerged from the early ‘90s. Among the distinctions are their relatively stable lineup, and their lyrical topics, which relate Viking raids, Norse mythology — as opposed to the standard Death metal fare of gore and guts and run-of-the-mill violence. With their latest release, Midvinterblot, Unleashed maintain their standard of quality and their distinctive defining factors while pushing it in an even more extreme direction.

Before having a listen to Midvinterblot, one must stop and give a good, appreciative look to at the cover art. There, in the center is Unleashed's style of Thor's hammer, complete with stern face, but comprised entirely of flames. Four hands hold drinking horns in praise of what one must infer, in praise of the ancient Norse heathen day of the winter sun's renewal, Midvinterblot. This is the perfect hint of the utterly, pummeling, inspired death metal contained therein.

The opening track, "Blood of Lies," comes crushing through the speakers to jolt the listener into awareness. What follows is a combination of memorable death metal riffs, tasteful and even melodic lead lines, fitting and appropriate drum parts (blasting at times, more straight up beats at other times) and of course lyrics that discuss Vikings, gods and war.

Notable is the track "We Must Join with Him," which is inspired by the Lord of the Rings. The complete lyric from which the title is drawn goes, "we must join with Sauron, or we have chosen death," showing an avid appreciation for the works of Tolkien and the movies inspired thereof.

Perhaps the most stand out track is the title track, which begins with a mid-tempo death metal fist banger. The lyrics praise Thor, Frey and other significant Norse gods, as well as the return of the sun. It is a most triumphant track, and the lyrics and music fit perfectly to create a modern day Viking homage to the ancients.

Overall, the album is everything one could hope for in a new Unleashed release. It surpasses Sworn Allegiance in terms of overall speed, and the lead lines are more abundant and inspired. The song writing is never weak. The band is truly on top of their game. Anxiously may we await Unleashed's return to the live stage Stateside. (9.5/10)

The sound you might have just heard is our exhaling in relief. The new Dornenreich doesn’t suck. Whew.

Start by thinking of Durch den Traum as a folk black metal record. That’s the first inclination, based on liberal use of acoustic or undistorted instruments. But then add in the unmistakable Dornenreich signatures, like unsettling whisper vocals in German, sudden breaks of chilling silence followed by subtle instrumentation, unsettling yet delicate eeriness, and wispy, instrospective melody. Even the occasional use of double kick drums is within the reserved, gloomily meditative context.

Unlike the fiasco that is Hexenwind, Durch den Traum’s instrumentation is pleasant and cutting in all the right places. Perhaps one of the album’s greatest assets is that it doesn’t grow tiresome after’t repeated listens. There are many stylistic aspects to notice and enjoy, and the Dornenreich aura of appealing weirdness — although toned down a bit due to the band’s "maturing" — drives much of the album’s artistic merit. However, Durch den Traum isn’t a particularly gripping, moving album. Interesting and worthwhile, yes (particularly to Dornenreich fans), but far from essential. Definitely check it out if you don’t think black metal has to be louder and more dissonant than anything else to be effective. (7/10)

With the moniker Hostile, it should come as absolutely no surprise that Pantera is their biggest benefactor: from the chunky riffage through vocalist Asgeir’s dead-on Anselmo bark, the songs reek of Vulgar Display of Power aggression. Not a bad blueprint, to be sure, but the band is savvy enough to avoid the clone tag by pulling in some other influences. There’s plenty of dual guitar work reminiscent of Maiden, Priest and, on "Suffer," Slayer. A dash of up-tempo Sabbath worms its way into "Freaking Bones," and on standout track "Word Keeps on Turning," they tackle Slipknot, unleashing huge, churning rhythms that gallop with the unfettered abandon of a stampede as Asgeir veers back and forth between raw spluttering and speedy, scat-like delivery.

Downsides? The band’s influences are so pronounced that there’s really nothing here that pins your ears back and has you thinking "whoa!" — it’s all a matter of connect the dots. A muted production does them no favors either, often flattening instrumental nuances into a gray smear. However, both of these aspects can be forgiven, for now. The band is young, their enthusiasm palpable and there’s an underlying feeling of dormant greatness in need of more time and seasoning. (5/10)

Having released three albums in this dark psy series, Zirkin’s Dance Show 3 is kind of a disappointment. While the other two were quite original and trippy, this one's just not at the same level.

It's sad when you see that an album has so much potential, yet so little substance. We can't say Zirkin's album is bad, because it's definitely not. It just fails to be concise, and it fails to have as many ideas as to cover a whole CD. It's not as dark as the other parts of the series, and definitely not as full-sounding.

The main problem, however, is the lethargic development and introduction of the good ideas that are present. For example, "Sonic Chant" takes a little less than four minutes to get to the worthwhile stuff, and it ends one minute and half later. And it's not like the build-up is so well done: Instead of making you expect something big, it'll just make you want to skip it sometimes. If Zirkin had removed most of the build up, we'd be left with a thirty minute album worthy of at least a 7/10. Or, Zirkin could have just done it all in a darker way, which would have made it all much better.

On the other side, the samples are great. Dialogues, harmonicas (!), programmed drums (watch out for IDM stuff), everything is really good, even in the otherwise bland parts. So, if the music doesn't really interest you, the samples surely will. Another high point is the unique synth leads scattered through the album. Even if there are not that many, when they're present they'll undoubtedly get you moving. The rhythms themselves are quite monotonous but they work, and thankfully there are no real cheesy bits, vocal parts or anything, making it a coherent album.

Dance Show 3 performs best, as any above decent psy album, when played really loud. In fact, you could say that's the whole point of the album. But it's not enough to save an album that should have been half an hour long, not one full hour.

Fitting, good, but not really up to Zirkin's previous level. If you have a big sound system and patience, go for it. Same goes if you're gonna throw a big party or something like that. Otherwise, you could try something more lead-based. Or just better. (5.2/10)

The first thing everyone will notice about the album is that it sounds huge. It's as if they had eight or nine instruments sometimes, even if they don't. Indeed, the compositions are far better than the stoner average — meaning that it's not just two Black Sabbath-like riffs, but slower randomly placed together — and the way that the instruments interact makes it sometimes more similar to ‘70s progressive rock than to modern stoner. You'll even get to hear an amazing dual violin part in "The Drunken Sun Forever Watching."

Also, the structuring is nothing like most metal, with lots of changes and prog segments, as well as old punk parts, Pink Floyd-worship, and Acid Bath-esque calm songs.

Easily the most outstanding bit about the technical aspect is the unorthodox vocals that sometimes sound like Maynard James Keenan. Seriously, the guy can go from screaming to Southern vocals whenever he wants. However, even with so much variety and sheer quality, he's not central in the album. There are lots of instrumental parts, resulting in a never-boring experience.

The guitars are as varied. From the The Mars Volta-ish start in "To the Fire," to the metal riffs in most of the other songs, you're sure to find something you like. The clean guitar parts are also really original. The best part about them is the clever multilayered treatment they get,

The other instruments aren't really outstanding, but they provide apt accompaniment. The drumming's simple but it adds some tribal rhythms here and there

review by: Ryan Loostrom

Time Requiem is symphonic prog/power, complete with gratuitously self-aggrandizing guitars. Prog metalheads will never get tired of those.

Let's go straight to the point. Optical Illusion is pretty much like Symphony X’s V: The New Mythology Suite. The compositions are done in the exact same style, the vocals are done the same way (even if this guy's range is definitely not as extreme as Russell Allen's), the guitarwork is based on the same scales and techniques, sometimes even the same rhythms. The keyboards, however, are incredibly faster in the solo parts, but they lack some of the less orthodox melodies of V. Even "Sphere of Fantasy"'s chorus seems straight out of Symphony X. Yes, it won't take you that much to notice the big big similarities between them.

Now, just because it sounds like a clone doesn’t mean it's bad. In fact, Optical Illusion is one of the most enjoyable power metal albums you'll ever listen to, just because the compositions are compositions and not the random guitar-wankery filled scale runs we're all used to. And even if that's what you like, there's enough random wankery to keep you going "holy shit!" for almost an hour.

As for the album's best parts, they are all in the title song, including the inhuman guitar/keyboard duet that'll make more than one prog fan drool.

As an album, Optical Illusion is pretty balanced. It's consistent, it doesn't go overboard anywhere, but it won't surprise you that much either. Think of it not as a breakthrough album, but as a damn good album to kill lots of time when you've already heard Divine Wings of Tragedy so much you’ve memorized every moment of every single song. But you know what would make the album a lot better? An even stronger baroque influence. The world needs more Bach metal.

If it weren't so similar to Symphony X, we'd be talking about an album in the 8-9 range. However, we Maelstrom reviewers are cruel and evil, so I'll personally make it a 7.75. Mwahahaha. Good stuff, anyway. Do check it out if you like both classical and metal. (7.75/10)

Back in the ‘70s, Japan had one of the biggest psych scenes in the world, including artists such as JA Ceasar (or Seazer, or however he felt like spelling it at the time, who played quite avant-garde stuff influenced by traditional folk), Kan Mikami (who played a particular brand of psych acid folk), and Les Rallizes Denudes (who were a more extreme group). Now, take that entire scene, but make it doom metal, and you’ve got Solar Anus.

As for Solar Anus’ style, its core is definitely a mix between old Pentagram and Sleep, but it goes beyond that, in every way possible. It's far more extreme, its compositions are far better and its jams are just godly.

Indeed, the part that shows the biggest psych influence is the jams, really long and pretty much a metal version of Les Rallizes Denudes' "The Last One." While technicality, it certainly isn't Solar Anus’ strong point, the raw energy, the early doom spirit and the original way guitar and drums relate to each other more than make up for it.

Even if the influences are obvious in the music, there's a big, big surprise in the first CD: a J.A Ceasar cover. And a damn good one at that. You could summarize it as a jam-like version of a classic. It has to be the first metal band to cover a japanese psych artist.

So, the music itself is almost the perfect doom musicianship, but Skull Alcoholic is not just that. It's in fact the whole discography of Solar Anus plus an (amazing) unreleased song, titled "Skull Alcoholic" as well. All that with a psychedelic booklet with lots of Dada collages. And a slipcase, specially cut to resemble an... anus? That should mean something about their attitude.

The three albums Solar Anus recorded are included, and the progression is obvious. The playing is lots more developed in their latest stuff, and far less traditional, whereas the first album shows a more straight-forward jam / doom metal style.

Solar Anus is, thank God, 30 years late. Instead of vanishing to nothingness like it would have happened back in the ‘70s, hopefully this album will give the band a well deserved place among the best Japanese doom acts, namely Boris and Church of Misery. Overall incredible, and easily one of the best albums of 2006. (9.4/10)

Estradasphere’s debut for The End Records is a fine, accessible amalgamation of jazz, classical, metal, gypsy, western movies music and even electronica. The band sounds highly equipped and skilled, most probably due to the experience it has garnered with its previous releases.

Now, don’t expect any Mr. Bungle-like weirdness or Hella-like inferno. The music here has indeed some lunatic flavors, but these are mainly reflected throughout the blurring of genres’ boundaries rather than being idiosyncratic, estranged or wacky.

While Palace of Mirrors does not scream "avant-garde," the band manages to explore its varied influences and combine them with a true sense of dedication and every bit of musicianship that is necessary in order to execute the diverse instrumental compositions.

As a result, the transition between genres is seamless: on "A Corporate Merger," a basic theme is given the snowball treatment, being wrapped first with gypsy music, then with slight funk, middle-eastern shades and eventually metal grinds (it’s only a shame it ends on such a low note); "The Terrible Beautypower Of Meow" and "Colossal Risk," which mix classical orchestration and jazz with spaghetti movies themes, have Lalo Schifrin written allover them; while on "Smuggled Mutation," Romanian folklore lives side by side with distortion and drum rolls. These are but a few examples of course, just to give you an idea as for what is going on in this genre-embracing release.

The only complaint I could come up with was that the compositions don’t quite make the symbiosis they manage to achieve between the genres on the album level — it is like every track is for itself (which really makes one wonder about the necessity of the first, intro track, especially as it is so airy). Regardless, Palace of Mirrors treasures plenty of fun, and at least an equal amount of cleverness and musical potency. (8.2/10)

The Flower Kings have already demonstrated their affection for Yes’ music on their previous releases. Now, Paradox Hotel sees the band exploring a wide scope of influences: The repetitive keyboard phrasing on the soft piano ballad "Jealousy" is done in a very Procol Harum way; "The Unorthodox Dancinglesson," probably the most adventurous cut here, is basically a King Crimson rip-off; and "Life Will Kill You" is reminiscent of Rush’s "A Farewell to Kings" in its punctuation — these are all but a few examples.

While these are cohesively entwined, The Flower Kings present their Yes roots even more obviously than before, imitating the classic Yes tones and maneuvers, such as the Patrick Moraz’s "Gates of Delirium" keyboards (on "Pioneers Of Aviation"), and taking a comparatively naked approach, which further contributes to the surprising impression that this is as closest to recreating the ‘70s Yes sound as The Flower Kings (and perhaps any other band but Yes) has ever gotten.

The pieces develop slowly. However, unlike other slow retro/progressive rock releases (Kansas’ Somewhere to Elsewhere comes to mind) "Paradox Hotel" is laid back rather than mediocre. The Flower Kings simply show off their maturity by taking their time, and it mostly works, even if it is less fleshy than what fans might expect.

Paradox Hotel is probably the Kings’ most linear, symphonic rock to date. The songwriting is commendable for its nice flow — everything sounds and evolves naturally and in place, which is more than can be said for some of the band’s previous releases that featured some fragmented, even exaggerated sections.

Everything is at ease: the guitar and keyboard work is extremely melodic, the drums are less heavy and less intense than before and the vocals are clear and organic. And so, the music won’t throw you down to the floor with extremities or catharsis, but it will hold you comfortably to the couch in a sort of a relaxed ambience, with many masterfully woven and executed instrumental parts, and, once again, a positive Yes aura.

Unfortunately, as with some of The Flower Kings’ previous albums, this album is just too long! Clocking at around 136 minutes, this double album can be tiring, especially due to the material’s sameness and slow pace. Provided The Flower Kings will continue to inject some blood of their own into the classic progressive rock they are trying to reconstruct, they don’t really need to improve a lot; they just need a good editor! (7/10)

If I had to sum up this Brass Castle release in one word, it would be "raw." You probably expect a bit more though, so here we go:

Brass Castle essence is stoner rock fused with punk and a grain of blues. Take Queens of the Stone Age and put them on steroids, or better yet, take the primeval Kyuss, with its unpolished, dirty production, mix it with Rage Against the Machine’s vitality and just a bit of ZZ Top, and you get Brass Castle. You will find that the eagerness and the unsettled drive to tear down everything are all over, injecting the two- to three-minute songs’ ferocious riffs with maniac excursions that are rebellious even to themselves.

This drums and guitars duo rocks infectiously. True, it is all far from being refined. Hell, even the artwork suggests the imperfections with the album’s title being crossed out. Also, as an album, this sophomore release loses some of its punch in the midst of its 17 songs. Still, there are lots of dynamics here that actually work, and these are enhanced by ragged production, swamps of distortion and the aggressively shouted vocals. Some moments here are cacophonic hard rock in its most distilled form! (6/10)

This compilation comprises various sessions by singer Paul Shuttleworth, once a frontman of The Kursaal Flyers, including solo sessions with producer Mike Batt, others with producer Mike Hurst, and some band recordings made under The Latest Craze moniker, few of which were previously unreleased.

Things do manage to sound more modern on some of The Latest Craze’s tracks: The Kursaal Flyers’ "Cruisin’ For Love" is given a bit of a disco treatment; "Suddenly" features reasonable synth work, and one wishes all of the material here would be as truthful and punchy as "Just Another Weekend," or as beautifully realized as "Tenth Floor Romantics," which actually brings together the aforementioned ‘60s way of songcrafting with a strong collective musicianship and devotion.

Shuttelworth (at least on the sessions brought here) is far from being an impressive vocalist or performer, and the material lacks an original voice. So, if you look for a first-rate version of Randy Newman’s "Just One Smile" and considered this release as an option, go and get the Blood Sweat & Tears debut instead. However, if you’re a fan of the singer, you’d probably want to get this release, especially thanks to its second, more significant part. (5/10)

Mark Guiliana need not convince us regarding his capabilities as a sensitive, expressive drummer. We have already been highly impressed by his engagements with Avishai Cohen, both live and on record. Here he debuts his own trio, featuring Neal Persiani on electric bass and Zac Colwell on saxophone, with a few other surprises.

Unlike the grandeur and majesty often associated with Avishai Cohen’s music, Heernt’s communicative sound is more street wise (or basement wise if you will); the use of a typewriter as a foundation for a rhythmic statement on the title track is a genuine example of that.

This highly anticipated release principally revolves around rhythms and short melodic phrases (which also dictate a rhythm in a way), explored with fine subtleties and a variety of mechanisms such as stop-starts and tempo changes. These guys love to mislead the listener, repeating certain patterns with elusive changes, and by the time you get used to the patterns you find them to be surprisingly reshaped, mistreated or broken; it is not done without cost, though, as at times things seem to take too long to evolve and require a rare dedication.

In addition to the aforementioned, the broad scope of this release is also achieved by the different instruments that are being used, and moreover, by the diverse compositions. Some worth mentioning in this context are the breezy, meticulously woven "Aaaahh.." and "Brawling on Epic Landforms," which would have delighted Manfred Eicher; the Weather Report jazz-rock funk of "Make Me Dance, Make Me Dance;" the alien keyboards on "Sea Urchin. See Urchin Run."; and the quirky yet festive screeches, a-la Albert Ayler, on "Quick Groove Rolling."

Locked in a Basement is witty, naturally flowing, thrashing yet beautiful, imperfect, and fresh. The deliberate stumbles enhance and boost the brute force without overshadowing the sensitivity of the music. And yet, this symbiosis of garage-rock and jazz just begs for a guy like Steve Albini on the controls, in order to live up to its full potential.

If you already picked up last year’s debut release by Swampdweller, Locked in a Basement would be the next logical step in examining 21st century’s blend-jazz. (7.5/10)

I have been listening to this album on and off for over two months now and I have to admit that Barracuda is possibly every rock critic’s nightmare, mainly due to the undisputed need to place words like "hair metal" and "quality" in the same sentence.

Kick-started in the late ‘80s, Barracuda was fueled by its passion for guitar based pop-metal. Two live tracks from 1991 are featured here and prove the band already had it back then. Now, nearly 20 years later, the band keeps its original affection intact, and accomplishes it with great talent.

Pop metal was always about good, catchy guitar and vocal melodies, and Barracuda’s are indeed so. It is a blend of ‘80s Whitesnake-like, love-centered songwriting with early Motley Crue-styled swaggering, glam flavored vocals and loose, enthusiastic performance. You’ll be singing along and moving to the songs before you even notice, and that’s what it is all about! (7/10)

I shamefully admit never hearing about Sailor prior to receiving this release. So I did the basic lookup and discovered that the band emerged in the ‘70s as a glam rock band; and one can definitely imagine Bryan Ferry doing some of the more frenzied / sexy material, such as the opening song of this live set, "A Glass of Champagne," or "Give Me Shakespeare."

Unfortunately, the year of this live recording is 2002 and the Sailor captured here misses key member and main songwriter Georg Kajanus, and these are more than probable factors for the lack of vitality.

Sure, the guys use some accordion, mandolin, keyboards and vocal harmonies to bring something of an original flavor as a band, but it comes off remarkably unimpressive. Simply put, every bit of quirkiness that one might assume as a feature of the original band is executed here artificially. There is indeed a core of humorous lyrics and twists in songs such as "Sailor" and "Girl, Girls, Girls," but it’s not enough. Sailor brings neither any fresh nor ‘70s spirit into the act.

When you get to the second CD, you will find a shocking Latin pop number ("La Cumbia"), and that’s just about wrapped it up for me. But wait! That’s not all! Later on you will find the horrible mixing of the pure pop cuts "In The Navy" and "Hot Stuff" with a Latin medley.

I have no doubt this works better on video (and Angel Air has already released a DVD of the band) as the band focuses on entertainment aspects at least as much as it does on the music. There’s just too much talk, and two key numbers are repeated, and if not for the sake of entertainment, I can’t imagine why.

And so, due to the lack of appeal, for a good glam experience, I would highly recommend you to stick to early releases by Roxy Music and Sparks. (3/10)

While Death’s later works Symbolic and Human are branded into the souls of many metal guitarists working (and learning) today, my appreciation for technical extremity still traces back to 1988's Leprosy.

Death’s principal songwriter, Chuck Schuldiner, had advanced very far as a composer and musician after the band’s debut, Scream Bloody Gore. Much of the gear shifting, arrangements, and complex riffing on Leprosy still sound fresh a generation later. Back in ’88, the thrash era was waning a bit, and from this the renaissance of what became the Floridan death metal scene began to take shape.

After a valiant but ultimately failed attempt to merge personnel with Michigan’s Genocide (a.k.a. Repulsion) and Canada’s Slaughter, Chuck Schuldiner finally managed to get a working lineup together, and merge Death’s paint-peeling brutality with virtuosity. Tracks such as "Leprosy," "Left to Die," and the classic "Pull the Plug" are taste-tested examples of how to balance sharp musicianship with balls-out dark extremity.

Chuck’s ultra-demonic vocals were a hard sell back in the day, though. At age 17, I was dimly aware of how awesome Leprosy was, but couldn’t completely ignore the quizzical stares that came from my Dokken / Bon Jovi / and-even-Maiden peers. "That’s not music," was something I’d hear pretty often, and in retrospect, the whole affair seems pretty quaint when nowadays the salad bar of extreme metal seems to have no end! Thankfully, I ignored the closed-minded "fans" and made my own judgment call.

Out of Death’s considerable discography, Leprosy stands on its own because it heralds the direction Schuldiner would later take with his project, but also provides a great time capsule of guilty pleasures that helped me abide homework.

Skin Chamber, a term referred to usually in the field of molecular biology, is also the brain-child — a very, very disturbed child — of two former Controlled Bleeding members who have recorded, in the year 1991, one of the most unsettling, terrifying albums to see the light of day.

As some of the titles suggest, the musical journey throughout Wound is either like swallowing scrap metal, being sucked inside, one's skin being carved, one's mind being ground, or that of a person who dreams in the sewer. Each and every one can pick their own pleasure excursion, their own horror rout by which to thread through the innards of this nightmarish, abominable industrial beast of sorrow and utter disgust.

Mechanical beats keep coldly repeating, the sounds of a cruel factory the size of Earth, where blood, metal scraps, grease, machinery and thick layers of dust dance together the waltz of the damned, the polka of the sheep that readily jump into the mince grinder of life.

Distorted, emotionless vocals hammer the mind with their dictator-like orders and screams, screams of pain and animosity so venomous, the herds of laboring monkeys / slaves in those damned manufacturing lines are crumbling, keeling over, being reduced to ashes by the pestilent breath, by the acid air coming out of the mouths of the screamers.

Searing, buzzing, ruthless guitars slice and hack and puncture every living tissue that's not been yet affected, leaving numbness, mushroom clouds, drops of blood hailing down like black rain of pests — and tragedy eternally prevails.

Skin Chamber debuted an album that is the ultimate in industrialization; it is so bleak, corroded, mechanized and harsh, so hostile and hateful that one would find it hard to believe humans had practically played and recorded it. It represents, more then anything else, the downfall of humanity as the couple of musicians behind Skin Chamber see it and translates the utter dismay into sounds; sound of perversion, hopelessness and final judgment to the talking monkeys.

Wound may have marked the end of an era and a beginning of another; an end of the times of innocence and celebration and the beginning of hardship, strife and global terrorism in a way. This album represents the ultimate dichotomy: both the sum of all human foulness and the solution for that very foulness. This album is the problem and the solution to all those who walk on two and think they are the creators while they are only the destroyers.

Wound is punishment, plain and simple; on the ears, on the body, on the mind. It embodies a greater punishment that lurks for man, sometime, somewhere, some day.

Is there a band in your record collection that you feel is somehow "yours"? That from a combination of being utterly brilliant, but at the same time being (in your mind) pitifully underappreciated — even by the target audience that should have made it one of the most heralded bands in its genre — to the point that you wonder if, by some inexplicable cosmic misalignment, you’re the only rabid fan this band really has, thereby making this group into an even bigger entity in your most exclusive of cults?

I’ve got some such bands. Perhaps the most important one of these is Sweden’s Thy Primordial.

Metal fans know a ton of black metal comes out of Sweden. It tends to be blurry and fast, yet prettier and more flowery than the more celebrated Norwegian stuff. Where Only the Seasons Mark the Paths of Time, in this sense, is definitely Swedish: it’s loaded with textbook buzzing, swirling, fast-picked, harmonized melodies that evoke Nordic pride, heathen charges, and glorious, torrential, epic storms. But there’s something about Thy Primordial’s style that elevates them above just about any other band in the genre. I think it’s the unique sense of grandeur and beauty that they can marry with the more common scathing, freezing brutality.

I’m sitting here listening to this album and gloriously, unconsciously pumping my fists in triumph. I almost forgot how great this album is. Where Only the Seasons Mark the Paths of Time is Thy Primordial’s first full-length record, after their rather derivative demo (now compiled under the title Under Iskall Troll Måne). This and the second album, At the World of Untrodden Wonder (which refined the style of the first record into a much more cohesive signature), was before Thy Primordial’s shift to a more brutal, square-shouldered, death metal-inspired approach. It’s all totally great, but there’s something unmatchably stirring about this early incarnation of the band, and the rather rough edges that still existed within the group’s creative output during this recording greatly contributes to its charm.

The music is simultaneously piercing and beautiful in its espousing of the fast, blurred, blissed-out buzzing melody that dominates the recording. The guitars are the main stars, and the bass comes through at many times to provide some fine melodic counterpoint. The drums throttle along tirelessly with an at-times amorphous sensation, with tom fills of the most cavernous kind. The vocals, which sound like a duck possessed, are relatively buried beneath all these layers, giving the record an ambient quality of having a raving lunatic scream along to the riffs while buried hopelessly (and perhaps contentedly) at the bottom of the sonic hurricane.

Where Only the Seasons Mark the Paths of Time is glory. It’s like the soundtrack to beholding the grandest Pagan hall amidst an epic snowstorm that your fantasy can come up with, and blurring it out to make your hairs stand up on end. I think I may be the only person on earth to think so, and I like that just fine.