Video Brolo is the odd title of Wrest’s eigth demo, a recording he once revealed to Maelstrom as something of a failure. Today, many will wonder what a talented mind as Wrest’s would consider a failure, even more so when it concerns a demo, which is humble in nature anyhow.

In my view, demos can be very fertile grounds for investigation and experiment, and in a way Video Brolo confirms that. But if, yes, if, one could say something unfavorable about Eight, is that it is by far not as coherent and less compelling than the excellent previous demo, simply called Seven or the fairly good follow-up, Nine (Inclement Derision).

Sadly, the album doesn’t live up to its name as there are no videos to be found. No image material, which is a pity, because much of the musical content sounds like a soundtrack to a movie.

Track 3 is a revisit of the instrumental part of Time End, the second demo. Track 5, I discovered, is what appears to be an early pattern for a part of the song "Minions," which would eventually be used on the official Lurker of Chalice album. Most definitely Wrest’s slowest ever drumming is on it, and I imagine that this is the speed at which he will play the drums by the time he’s reached the ripe old age of 94 (The snare drum is hit something like 11 times during the first minute, albeit at an average beat interval of 5:45 secs: now that’s self-restraint!).

Up ‘til track 6, all songs are rather uneventful instrumentals. Tracks 6, 7 and 10 are re-recordings of songs from or loosely based on the third demo (Track 7 is a re-recording of "Are Lunatic" and 10 is based on "Of Wolven Lineage We Are Bond").

Songs 8 and 9 are also instrumentals and 8 (a monstrous 18:11 minutes long) has creepy backward vocals and twisted, illogical guitar and bass lines over a slower-than-pedestrian pace. An excellent soundtrack to some kind of arthouse, sci-fi-horror movie.

At the 7:08 mark of the same track, another section begins, like it were a different song, and I can’t stand the fact that it sounds so familiar but I can’t recall the title, if there ever was one. It’s the hidden treasure of the demo, because it could easily exist aside with anything of the excellent previous demo. Then again, the song consists of three distinct subdivisions, so there’s another challenge, or should I say mind-fuckery for someone who wants to put the rich legacy of the Leviathan demo material under the microscope.

Video Brolo is like a sketchbook, partially a revisitation of previous ideas. For listeners to know about the above details would help to understand what this demo is about. It’s certainly not the best point to start investigating Wrest’s demo archive. (6/10)

Like its predecessor, Three sounds at times pretty muffled, but is notably a tad better. It’s a very brooding recording, with most songs slowly fading in and unfolding into mirror reflections of psychic instability.

Track 3 is interesting if only for Wrest’s vocals doing lines in a ridiculous squeaky manner, and for the folky Kampfar-style instrumental part. This untitled song would, along with the previous two titles, re-appear in re-recorded form on the 8th demo, and the folky part would also be used on "Embassador of Misanthropy" on the 7th demo. A nice example of Wrest’s method of copying and pasting song-elements.

Track 4 is an instrumental where Wrest is opening all registers of his talent for very complex and seemingly intuitive drum patterns. Track 5 is an early version of "Guide Dragon" on which Wrest uses his voice in a much different, more agonised way.

The last song is another big stand-out on this demo. A long track slightly similar in the style of his later ambient project "A Silhouette In Splinters," the piece is 8:20 minutes long without drums, but with many of those mesmerizing guitar wails flooding and ebbing forth over the left and right channel. I imagine a landscape in which a hapless and lost wanderer grows desperate at the sight of lethal clouds of icy fog sliding down the valley at sunset. Wrest is croaking in a deep zombierama voice, carefully dosed and without the typical distortion, which isn’t necessary to create a track deeply desolate and ethereal, with whispers of some necro-poem, a re-cap of the lyrics from "Of Wolven Lineage We Are Bond." With no doubt one of the darkest and most sinister pieces of early Leviathan, and the first true example of Wrest’s music as icy as having Medusa serving as your optician. (6.5/10)

Alltheniko’s We Will Fight! is a horns-raised salute to rough-and-tumble German metal from the ‘80s. You know: the bands that can’t singularly be named without naming the others — Sodom, Destruction and Kreator... but Alltheniko makes you think just as much of really early Helloween (we’re talking about before the Michael Kiske era) as well.

What this means is an album of raw, charging songs that mix old-school thrash with old-school power metal. The eternal issue that arises with these new albums in an old-school vein is, of course, whether it’s reverent of the forefathers, taking that admiration and turning it into something that’s palatable today... or if it’s just re-hashed garbage.

Thankfully, We Will Fight! is a great ride. Make no mistake, everything about this album — from the music, the cover art, and the band member names (Joe Boneshaker; Dave Nightfall; Luke the Idol) — is goofy in the extreme. But it’s no more goofy than what inspired it.

The guitars on We Will Fight! have a nice bite to them, which makes their tasty leads and competently performed riffs work very well. The bass guitar provides excellent warmth and body to the music. The drums, while powerful and performed without technical reproach, are otherwise unremarkable. The vocals are in the over-the-top, rough and absurd style of the four aforementioned bands, and for that approach, they work well.

Alltheniko is good fun. If you’re into metal and embrace it in all its inalienable cheesiness, you’ll be able to get into this group. The music is performed with energy and earnest. Alltheniko doesn’t care about being cool. Why should you? Long live metal. (7/10)

Ah... the late ‘80s / early ‘90s, back when doom was just doom and bands weren't afraid to create something new. Back then, even before Eyehategod's debut or Grief's first EP, there was a band going by the name of Asbestos Death that no one really noticed but underground doom metallers. Vinyl releases and all, they were not precisely a prolific or long-standing band, but they somehow managed to create, with some other really early bands, what would later become sludge doom. In a way, Dejection and Unclean could be called proto-sludge.

Dejection / Unclean, as a unified release, isn't just musical significance. Even now, it's some of the best sludge / stoner ever produced, only not in a pure form such as Acid King's debut for stoner or Eyehategod's one for sludge. Of course, it doesn't have the psycho edge of Grief, Burning Witch or the more abstract Khanate, but it serves as a kickstart for the genre. As such, it's more based on Black Sabbath or even Candlemass-minus-the-swords, predating funeral doom, actual sludge and even the first modern stoner / doom bands like the aforementioned Acid King, Electric Wizard and Sleep. But that's the point, Asbestos Death was essentially Sleep, same members and all.

Anyway, while not incredibly heavy if heard nowadays, it definitely was one of the heaviest metal acts of the time. Remember, the late ‘80s were the period where death metal was just established as a genre. Asbestos Death's riffs were like an abstract version of Black Sabbath and the vocals were harsh, but not growled, with lots of heaviness coming from the raw production (even if on this CD most of the raw production is gone thanks to a remastering job that makes it sound like a vinyl, mostly).

The CD’s highest point, no contest, is the opressive atmosphere. Not many albums can achieve it without sounding silly (well, except Wormphlegm's first demo, but that was kind of silly, anyway) or overusing rather idiotic vocal effects. Not here, as everything's obviously coming from just instruments and a mic, with little to no effects added. Except the old-school guitar distortion, of course.

For such a short release, Dejection / Unclean shows a serious punch, with memorable hooks and riffs, headbangable heavy parts and psychedelic clean ones, great (tortured) Crowbar-ish vocals and a solid rhythm base. So, is it good just because it's important and underground? Not really. If this were released today, I'd give it a high score as well. (Classic/10)

Listening to Amarok is somewhere between a throwback to post FragileYes and ELP with a heavy dosage of multi-cultural music. Even though they're on Progrock records, don't be fooled into thinking there's any type of rock at all on this album.

While Sol De Medianoche might not be a rock record, there's a lot to be had out of the music on this album, as it's practically a world-wide journey that incorporates almost hundreds of different styles into an album that's without a doubt its own creation. Songs like "Wendigo" offer fantastic flute and organ passages on top of very technical jazz-styled drumming with trumpet sections here and there providing a very 1960s lounge jazz sound, while songs like "Hermits" feature music influened by Gypsy culture with vocals influenced by the middle-eastern region.

There may not be much in the way of progressive rock (honestly, probably nothing in the way of progressive rock). Rather, Amarok's newest album is something that anyone who appreciates the sounds of all cultures coming together will appreciate. (8/10)

Drone has come a long way since SunnO))) and Earth. Whereas it used to be standard dissonant noise, bands decided to started bringing ambient into the equation and creating more melodic sounds; bands like Nadja and Byla, and of course, The Angelic Process.

Now, The Angelic Process have released a new album entitled Weighing Souls with Sand, and in the right mindset, it's poised to be one of the best drone releases this year.

While the individual components of this album may seem a bit odd, the way things come together is almost divine. For instance, the drums sound heavily mechanized and the guitar sounds extremely processed, like it was done through a home computer. Generally, when you've got that stacked against you, it becomes extremely tough to make it work. The vocals are put back in the mix, and very hushed. However, the production on this album gives the music a very blurred sound, successfully melding together every aspect of The Angelic Process’ sound and converting it into one single, breathing entity.

When I say breathing, I mean breathing. This album flourishes with melody and emotion, calling forth imagery that takes the cerebral palette of modern-day drone and couples it with music that has as much to do with Godflesh as it does with My Bloody Valentine, borrowing from almost every single aspect of music in general. The vocals have a shoegaze feel to them — very aural and ethereal somewhere in the middle of the mix. Heavy guitars rumble and churn as melodic leads call forth images of a violent and turbulent ocean, and the vocals explode with fury, cursing the dry land in the midst of a raging storm. Moments of stillness are few and far between, but only for a few seconds as emotional explosions erupt in a violent maelstrom again.

This is a type of album that's so engulfing that, before long, which track you're listening to becomes irrelevant. You can view it from the point that all songs sound the same, but considering that each track heavily adds textures upon textures to the mental painting that they're trying to conjure, it becomes moot in contrast.

When it comes down to it, Weighing Souls with Sand is a drone release that offers fans of bands like SunnO))) and Earth a completely different type of drone listening experience. Fans of Nadja are definitely going to dig what The Angelic Process are doing on this record. Essential listening. (9.5/10)

If one wishes to find a story of failure that's almost unrivaled as far as metal goes, you needn't look any further than Arch Enemy. Before their albums were exported to America, they sported a fantastic arsenal of death metal riffs coupled with otherworldly melodies and a technical guitar attack that's still unmatched as far as melodic death goes today.

They had Johan Liiva as their vocalist, who had a throaty and guttural growl that spouted ferocity and visciousness with every note. Then, they released Wages of Sin and destroyed their ability to make good, punishing music, and shelled out their fantastic vocalist for the horribly over-processed and lackluster Angela Gossow.

Luckily though, Americans don't have to deal with Arch Enemy's new, shiny and lame approach to "metal," as their fantastic debut, Black Earth has been re-released, along with a fantastic number of extras including their fantastic cover of "Aces High" by Iron Maiden.

Listening to this album is literally painful, though. The music here is so awe-inspiringly brutal and melodic simultaneously that it makes you wonder: "Where the fuck did the genius go?" Bands today can't pull off the grandeur that's present on this album, and most people still maintain that melodic and standard death metal just can't co-exist in the same album, yet here it is. Songs like "Bury Me an Angel" provide explosive melodies coupled with heavy, thundering guitars that borrow from thrash and death metal.

The fact that no one in Arch Enemy saw Johan Liiva as a vital asset is almost ridiculous. His work on songs like "Cosmic Retribution" is absolutely stellar, perhaps one of the heaviest aspects of Arch Enemy. Granted, in contrast to this particular song's amazing acoustic section, he might seem moot, but a lot of his vocal work is what gave early Arch Enemy that specific face where melody seemed to hold it's place in line with death metal.

Now, compare all this brilliance to modern day Arch Enemy. You may now cry. This re-issue is downright mandatory for metalheads of all walks. (9/10)

Originally composed for a dance project, Strawberry Cream and Gunpowder is an unstable piece of work, not in a bad sense but rather in a sense that it puts the listener on edge.

Avi Belleli, a critically acclaimed Israeli musician (and a key member of the local rock outfit Tractor's Revenge), unfolds a modern creative experience that revolves around the psychological investigation of the effects of terror.

The album was recorded live during some of the project's performances but, rest assured, it functions well as a whole (exclusive of the visual dance piece that is).

"Shmama" ("desert") sets the tone, with hypnotic, humming vibes. These are constantly disturbed by sharper electro-acoustic occurrences, pretty much in the way the human brain is never fully at rest. "2nd Texture" continues in a similar fashion, but adds vocal outbursts that aid the estranged music in establishing its human connection.

A chamber rock influence is occasionally hinted, but Belleli doesn't succumb to the strict chamber rock esthetics even when he deviates from the disturbing sonic ambience on the songlike "A and G," which features a sharp interplay between clean and fuzz guitars; or on "Hands Up," when the dark themed guitars are boosted with a saturated sound.

The recording derives much of its effectiveness from its rawness, representing the confines of a troubled mind, which are often quite like the avant-garde collection of scattered sounds on the final track — just barely managing to cling together as a whole. (8.25/10)

Birdflesh has been for some years one of grind's mammoths, one could say. They represent, or even lead, the section of grind that's making people take the music more and more seriously musically but less and less seriously lyrically, or even conceptually. And well, it wouldn't be a good grind band without a Mondo reference.

The most appropriate thing to say about Mondo Musicale's technicality is that Birdflesh displays it constantly... while still being grind, so that should tell you enough. They aren't there to bore you with constant blastbeats and some random shrieking over it; they are there to entertain you while sounding like a real band.

It wouldn't be inaccurate to say that Birdflesh’s biggest influence, musically, is Carcass, or at least Carcass' first two albums, as it certainly shows. They just don't limit themselves to Carcass riffs or Carcass growls, however.

If you already know Birdflesh through their previous album, you most probably will agree that Mondo Musicale is not as good as Night of the Ultimate Mosh. While it does have a lot, and I mean _a lot_, of replay and fun value, some of the tracks are just pointless. Take the second one for example, which is something that just didn't happen last time around.

Sure, Mondo Musicale might be more varied, but sometimes you have to sacrifice some variety for cohesion. So, yes, it is fun, but sometimes it'd be better for Birdflesh to actually play pure grind some more times to justify all the comedy tracks.

Anyway, comparison doesn't make an album, as Mondo Musicale is actually far above most other band’s recordings, regardless of how much more ass Night of the Ultimate Mosh kicked.

Sure, it might not be as brutal as, say, Napalm Death's From Enslavement to Obliteration or Terrorizer's first album, but it's still grind. Grind with drum solos, Slayer-like intros, melodic riffs here and there, blast-beats where it needs them and weird stuff wherever. The best part? It's fun. And it's obvious that's what they want. But thankfully, it's not only fun. Even the comedy parts are good musically, with some traditional metal moments seriously as good as the bands they parody. And when it's not comedy, it's brilliant, technically tight and production-wise much more than just fitting.

Want a fun but musical, grind, but not completely grind album? Go ahead. Want something brutal? I'd say don't. But in any case, you should know Birdflesh. (7.5/10)

Birds of Avalon’s style is part Sabbath, part Beatles, part punk, part metal. These Birds have concocted a brew that is tasty and appealing to a number of different moods. Whether you want to swing through all those moods in one sitting is another matter entirely.

Take the opening track, "Bicentennial Baby." A touch of electronica starts it off, then it segues into a steady, driving rhythm. The guitars resemble an Allman Brothers-like spiral for long stretches, while the vocals resort to pop-like singalongs in the chorus. It’s a bit schizophrenic for an album opener.

A highlight was "Instant Coma," which departs from the model of melding metal with other kinds of rock to spend some time in a jazzy interlude. It’s like the dream sequence in a movie that reminds you of the possibilities that exist outside of the plot — a welcome refresher, along with "Wanderlust" before you move on to "Taking Trains." "Taking Trains" returns to the volume and intensity of most of the other tracks. And so it goes on. Recommended if you like Sabbath and other ‘70s rock, but want a new twist on it. (7/10)

Sludge is fundamentally a strange genre. It practically started with Crowbar, but Crowbar are pretty much the only band that has that certain type of sound. Modern-day sludge sounds like either Iron Monkey worship or Neurosis study. That's what's so great about Blutch.

While the monolithic sludge group's new album might not be the best sludge release of the year, it's without a doubt the most different. Instead of relying on southern-tinged swaggers and slow, pulsing rhythms, Blutch are able to harness monolithic and seething riffs drowned in feedback and noisy guitar ambience. Heavy and slow verses creep and crawl, while often times the band will erupt into violent and thrashing (about as "thrashing" as a sludge group can get, mind you) chorus. "Beguiling Comer" follows this edict before flowing like a stream of lava into a section of purely evil and cerebral guitar antics that just eats at your psyche.

However, there are certain aspects of Materia that just sound a bit disjointed. By all means, it's a good release, but's not the stellar, thunderous roars of bands like Yob. While it's definitely something different, it's not going to be anyone's favorite album of the year. Still, not too shabby. (7/10)

Broken English was conceived by Steve Elson (currently a frontman of England's "leading Stones tribute act," The Counterfeit Stones) as a Rolling Stones derivative, and it indeed sounds so — so much that the band's debut single (1987's Comin' on Strong) was mistaken to be a Stones number upon its initial release.

The three-guitar lineup, led by Elson, revitalized the purified rock attitude of the Stones in a slightly more up-to-date dress (in 1987 terms, that is). Some guest musicians — such as Zak Starkey and Paul Fenton (of Carmen, whose third album Elson produced and is also featured in this issue) — help in creating the illusion of a full band, but it is basically the guitars that do the work.

And a fine work it is — catchy tunes with bits of the casual guitar wizardry well-incorporated into them; some clever arrangements and the slick yet rootsy Stones attitude.

Now released for the first time ever, The Rough With the Smooth is an unpretentious album that is limited due to its copycat tendencies, yet rises above its limitations thanks to a good songwriting and a solid performance. (6.5/10)

It has been interesting to see where the former members of Savatage ended up. Most of them are still involved with a bunch of side-projects, but Jon Oliva is growing more successful with his solo project, and now Chris Caffery is following in that trend with his second offering, Pins And Needles.

The title track, which is also the opener, is good and energetic. "66" follows in a more of a ridiculous path with a generic heavy metal tinge as Caffery puts on many different silly voices to sing the cheesy lyrics, "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, six sixty six." "Reach Out and Torment" proceeds into heavier territory, and is a fantastic track. The vocals on this song sound exactly like James Hetfield during the earlier years of Metallica, which is an impressive feat in itself. Caffery also sounds a bit like Dave Mustaine as the song follows along, so it stands as a pretty cool homage to those fellows.

The songs aren't short, but they flow along with ease. The music is extremely easy to listen to, and there is nothing that sticks out to really distract or annoy. Each song stays within a general radius of ability and atmosphere, yet Caffery is able to make interesting arrangements within this template that he has set up for Pins and Needles. It doesn't revolutionize music or anything, but it succeeds in being a heavy metal album full of strength and finesse rather than showboating. (7.5/10)

The Gypsies is Carmen's third album, originally released in 1976, and while it is clearly a work of an original band, it is less refreshing than its predecessors (reviewed in issue #50). The music seems to hold less of the Spanish fire the two previous albums introduced, and the exciting punctuation was rounded in favor of a more easily digested, laid back sound and, at times, casual rock guitar wails.

The flamenco, space and rock layers don't cling together as they once did, nor do they bring out the Carmen rhythmical magic. Something crucial has surely changed, and a quick look at the credits reveals that something: Tony Visconti, who was previously at the producer's seat, was replaced (by Steve Elson, whose later outfit "Broken English" is also featured in this issue).

Still, there are beautiful songs and musical moments here, such as the powerful, progressive title track or the Fairport Convention-styled folk-rock piece "Dedicated to Lydia," which features excellent vocal, piano and guitar harmonies but ends with an unexplainable flare-up that just fades away (some of the other tracks end in a similar way. I doubt Visconti would have let that happen).

The original album is augmented by two bonus tracks: an earlier, highly engaging single (produced by Visconti, notice the difference!) and a disappointing 2007 song by Angela Allen and Widescreen (which we are just about to discuss).

Moving on to the second CD of the set, we find brand new material by Carmen's leader, David Clark Allen, together with Laurence Elliott-Potter (keyboards) and Julian Ferraretto (violins). The trio, which goes under the name Widescreen, plays instrumental music surprising in its quality.

The articulate music is pleasant as background listening, but also features subtleties that showcase fine craftsmanship as well as a creative desire. Widescreen modernly fuses the Spanish music that is at its core with gentle electronic, mild jazz and even a bit of funk; Allen, in particular, is in fine form here, playing his guitars passionately, as if he means every note he produces! (7.5/10)

Apparitia - Sumptuous Spectre’s old news of old news, but an example for a bunch of future releases of many black metalheads. Early this year there was a re-release of the debut album of Avignon-based Celestia, a project by Sir (not Lord) Noktu Geiistmortt (Geiistmortt being fake German for mental murder). According to Noktu, the initial release was marred by an improper mix, but now that he has decided to pick up the thread again he has sanctioned this new version on the Paragon label.

Compare one of their oldest songs, "Spectra" (from Apparitia) from their previous version (on the US-based Full Moon Productions) and the difference is indeed remarkable: from a mix that then sounded tremendously retro-style, there is now a full-blown 21st century mix (the drum sound has improved considerably, sounding much fuller and we have a bass that is audible now).

I hail the idea behind this re-mix. It is something that more artists should do as soon as they are ready to depart from the demo stage and "go official." Indeed, Celestia have released quite a few demos since 1995 uptil Apparitia.

This Apparitia is very well-produced, cold, ethereal black metal, but I have to raise an eyebrow at their claim of being "innovative" or of doing "something completely separate" from what "other black metal bands are typically doing." Is that so? And if yes, who really cares?

My theory is that by saying this Noktu wants to express his dismissal of much of the black metal that is being made today, and yes, there is much mediocrity and fashion filth, I can agree with that. But what can you do? Time will be the judge and separate the kvlt wheat from the chaff.

The funny thing with this disc is that some songs are slightly dramatic, but they do not sound as grim as for instance some so-called suicidal BM acts. They are much more lucid, as if there is light to be found in (inner) darkness.

"Wandering Through the Past Memories," for instance, starts with a very jolly, up-beat rhythm. But some uplifting moments can be misleading: The intro to "Perverted Decadent, Dying, Love" doesn’t sound at all like a melancholic song, but in the end it turns very sad with someone seemingly weeping in remorse or grief over something. Repetition can be equally misleading: a particular fondness for certain chords is evident as "The Radiance of the Astral Circle" starts with exactly the same chord as "Wandering Through the Past Memories," but in its Burzumish-style, "Radiance" is much doomier with the subtle use of random crystalline synth sounds. The use of synths is sparse but very effective.

Apart from these neutral observations, there is something that bothers me, and that is the way the bass often simply follows the pattern of the guitar melodies. It is a pity in a way because it deprives the album of some direly needed variation. On the other hand, it also appears that a hiatus has been created on purpose: Noktu’s vocals may be raspy and adequate, but when hearing them for a while I sense a some kind of blankness, as if there is no real despair or for that matter any particular emotion to be noticed. Noktu is more a kind of stoic narrator of his necromelancholic reveries.

One may wonder where the innovation really shows, wonder how a 2002 recording could be still pushing borders five years after its initial release. To me, the only imaginable innovation can be in the fact that Apparitia consists of mostly properly re-recorded versions of songs (like "Spectra") that have previously appeared on demo-tapes with recordings of lesser quality: Hence, Celestia simply innovate themselves! Recycling is a wonderful thing.

Later on this year, a new and proper album should see the light of darkness. I expect to hear a different kind of Celestia. In fact, I really hope so, because without the benefit of knowing where the original versions of songs on "Apparitia" come from, many may find that it’s not such a revolutionary album, except if the message is: trve black metal doesn’t have to sound crap to be trve, or alternately: a product sounding good is no longer against the spirit of evil.

Well, that’s sort of ok, I guess… (6/10)

This limited edition CD is well worth checking out if you’re into ambient beats. The first track, "Damon Kvols," sets the mood with a mellow series of beats that easily glide into glitches and bizarre hoots, although you might need to be under the influence of various chemicals to better appreciate every nuance of the song. If not, it might strike you as a bit too long of a track.

Things pick up with the second, and shortest, track. "Rattler Bin" starts off with that buzz you hear when electronic devices are on — the computer’s hum, the TV’s whine. The track coalesces into a series of spooky breakbeats with some funky elements here and there, and is overall more sonically interesting than the previous track.

The album keeps getting better, with the speed picking up a bit on "Waiting 4 Yankovic," but the aura stays the same — a little spooky, a little trippy. The final track, "God’s Blessing," sounds like dawn in an electronic Eden, with water, bright notes, and a sense of slow awakening.

Overall, this is a great album for those who like other artists on Temporary Residence, like Fridge or The Drift. Don’t try to listen to it in the car. (8.5/10)

With bands like Genghis Tron and Hella out on the scene nowadays, bands like Child Abuse are going to be common. Someone once said that "Music is the harmonious voice of nature." With music like this, it's easier to see the nature of man slipping further into the recesses of mental instability, and it has to be said, this grand collapse is starting to sound magnificent.

Before this review goes any further, Child Abuse's complete bastardization of conventional music is going to drive several people away. In the first six minutes of this album, you hear jazz, metal, no-wave, grindcore, even organ that resembles Yes in their spaced-out prog years, or Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. So, if you can't tolerate the splendor of non-white, completely chaotic noise, don't bother. However, for anyone that can stomach what Child Abuse are doing on this album, there's a hell of a lot to soak in.

Child Abuse are fucking ridiculous. Without a doubt, this band is going to be making waves akin to The Locust. Their ability to actually harness the psychotic sounds of all these genres being laid on top of each other is practical songwriting genius. I'm not even sure there's a single riff on this album, just a lot of Daughters'-esque onslaughts of noise that sounds borderline neo-psychedelic at points. With shrooms, I imagine this album would convince someone in a roundabout way that murder makes sense.

That being said, that doesn't mean this album doesn't have its flaws. For instance, the vocals on this album aren't really needed at all to begin with, but secondly, they're downright horrible. Of course, the production could've used a bit of a more defined overhaul, but the muddy production actually helps it in some points.

Child Abuse are a band you play when you have an endless supply of drugs, or when you're looking for something that's ultimately mind-bending. If you're into conventional scenes of music, stay far, far away, because this album will just be tonguing the sore on the top of your mouth. (7.5/10)

The first single from Pinback frontman Rob Crow’s album, Living Well, has three songs on it and a video. The first is a solid rock song riffing on names and identity, "I Hate You, Rob Crow." You get the idea. The second track, "Sea Swan," is a dreamy instrumental interlude. The third track, "Slick," sounds like a Pinback b-side to me — dreamy and bass-heavy, nothing offensive, but nothing startling.

The video for "I Hate You, Rob Crow" is what has the blogosphere buzzing. Most of the comments I’ve read are expressions of puzzlement and confusion. I have to say, that as much as I like Rob Crow, I agree. There is a lack of coherence to the video that perhaps is meant to reflect the essential question of the song: "what’s in a name?" The end result is not a cleverly beautiful and poignant reflection on the self, but rather a slight take on the self-eviscerations of the artist. It walks the line between parody and seriousness, but falls too far to the side of parody to be enjoyable. (7/10)

What a gem!

Crux are a fantastic ‘80s-inspired black / thrash band that were greatly influenced by Bathory; and Rev Smrti (Scream of Death) is a re-issue that many collectors will definitely want to get their hands on.

Crux come from the Czech Republic, and have a particularly violent, yet beautiful flavor to their compositions. The songs can go from a lethally fast pace to a trudging death / doom step within thirty seconds, successfully splicing the two together with ease.

The vocals rip through the buzzing guitar tones as the drums keep the lethargic tempo going strong. Sometimes the drums have a more tribal beat (almost akin to the human heart) during tracks like "Awartheas." Elsewhere, the guitars focus more on acoustic melodies, like on "Obycejna Voda"; this shows that the band was not just some fuck-around act that liked to play heavy music for the sake of playing something heavy (although this is a favorite pastime of the band according to the liner notes).

The production varies across the tracks as this album came directly from the original tape recordings done by the band, and contains songs spanning their entire discography, plus some unreleased tracks. All in all though, this album definitely conjures up memories of a distant past that almost seems too good to be true; if only there were more bands like this! (10/10)

Metalcore is a very oversaturated market; and it can easily be said that, like all things, 90% of it is crap. The remaining 10% percent, however, is usually filled with bands that have either pushed the genre to new heights, or done something original in order to leave their mark on the minds of others. Daemos, while not being the most unique band amongst other acts, has decided to take the showmanship path in a new direction.

With the release of Surface (part one in a trilogy), we are presented with a three-song EP that showcases yelled vocals intertwined with harshly sung melodies, decent guitar abilities, and moderately paced drums. If the music itself were to be described in as few words as possible, it would be banal and ordinary. The guitars typically chug along during both "aggressive" and "melodic" parts — the only difference being the style of vocalization used at a certain key moments. Sometimes some clean acoustic playing will pop up, but this too is a short-lived experience.

It would be nice if there was something new here that no other metalcore act has done, or if the material Daemos had written mimicked that of greater acts (there is really nothing wrong with unoriginality if it is done well). But what is shown on Surface is sub-par work that remains as uninventive and unoriginal as the rest of the metalcore and hardcore scenes — save for the unique way of releasing their material. This too however, seems like a waste of plastic. (4.2/10)

They say Greek metal bands own a typical sound... some distinctive aural aesthetics that set Greek bands apart from any other within the metal underground.

I have not yet found that particular sound everybody's speaking about. Sure, there are some old-timer bands hailing from the land of mythologies — Necromantia, Rotting Christ, Varathron, Nightfall and my personal favorite, Septic Flesh — some of which are even unique in their own special way, but to tell you I see / hear a clear unifying quality or some common denominator there would be a far cry from the truth (can you hear it? I can – ed).

So forget about the Greek sound being a fact or a myth, and take a look at Dark Messiah; a band that has emerged from the underground and resurfaced with one full-length album in its arsenal and this, Rise of Black Dawn mini-CD being its "official" sophomore offering.

Dark Messiah's music leans heavily on the low frequencies of black metal, what distances its style from the general high-pitch oriented black metal's musical stance, generally speaking.

Hence, Rise of Black Dawn bears a somewhat original sound; the vocals are generally lower in pitch than the usual black metal screamer; more throaty and deep yet not quite slipping into the death metal realm; but that's not all.

The pace — although occasionally being infested by the dreaded, superfluous blast beats — is nonetheless mid-paced to slow most of the time, and that approach exactly is what helps Dark Messiah elevate from what would have been mediocrity and highlights the band's music; one can actually hear the playing; the beautiful and saddened harmonies; the ominous riffing; the intricate and delicate generating of atmosphere and emotion; the underlying Eastern vibe that serves only to spice up the already riff-heavy, elaborate guitar finesse.

When Dark Messiah plays slow, you can hear a band, an assembly in total inner harmony; Dark Messiah's music is speaking in Universal tongue then.

Mystical landscapes and far-away places are being portrayed; forbidden rituals and acts of torture... but mostly the music emanates a strong odor of occultism more than anything else; dark performances executed in dark chambers.

So yes, if you haven't heard Dark Messiah yet, grab this MCD. Even though it contains only 19 minutes of music, it will give you both a good idea about this fine band (Greek-sounding or otherwise) as well as introduce you to an original sound and aesthetical approach not often used by today's black metal clones and clowns. (7.6/10)

Getting an album from Lifeforce means one thing: if this band is going to impress you, they better have the melodic sensibilities of Dark Tranquillity with the technical prowess of Cryptopsy, because seriously, these constant attempts of second-rate melodic death metal revival are starting to get trivial.

Deadlock's album new album, Wolves, falls into that pitfall, unfortunately. The first thing you hear is a fantastic sweep arpeggio, and you think to yourself, "Wow, this isn't that bad." Don't kid yourself though, because it is. The sleeve says that album is "technical" and "melodic," but so is American metalcore like As I Lay Dying and Unearth, and the only thing that Deadlock has that those two bands don't is a synthesizer and occasional female vocalist.

The production is lackluster; the riffs are of the generic variety. I mean, the heaviest sections of this album are in the rhythm sections for the solos.

There's practically nothing redeeming about this album if you actually know good metal. Sure, there's a cute section here and there where Deadlock like to mix things up, like the pseudo-jazz section at the end of "We Shall All Bleed," but by the end of this album, you won't have felt like your time was well-invested. (4/10)

You know how people into anything alternative will always say, at least indirectly, as if they were ashamed of it, that "lesser known" equals "better." Well, Declan de Barra is the proof needed to refute, at least empirically, that equation. It's not good. Declan de Barra is _not_ good.

Declan de Barra is an Irish pop / rock / alternative / something songwriter, with some similarities to Sufjan Stevens, Agents of Oblivion's slower tracks or even Radiohead's calm ones as well, but I don't think their fans would like Song of a Thousand Birds, really.

It's not for lack of potential. His melodies can be really good sometimes, but he just can't develop them. For example, the violin on track two is great, but the song just can't seem to hold the listener's attention. It feels completely empty, just like every single track in the album but two, at most. Some percussion, another instrument, even multi-layering the vocals would make it all better, but he just stays there, with his acoustic guitar and his minimalist violin.

And it's not for lack of production: the album sounds great. Everything is crystal-clear, the mixing is great, the instruments are correctly played and the vocals are good and varied. It won't hurt your years, it won't make you cringe, and it won't make you feel uneasy.

It's not for lack of talent. The guy has a nice concept for most of the songs yet they are never fully done. If you took three or four of his best melodies, merged them into one song and added some more instrumentation, it'd work, but most of the time you're stuck with a way too correct, way too monotonous and way too simple version of songs that could have been good but are not.

The problem is that Declan de Barra tries to be minimalistic, but ends up being way too minimalist for its own good. He suggests songs yet they are just sketches at best. And unjustified albums of song-sketches aren't enjoyable. Especially when it's obvious that much better can be done than that. He should definitely try to compose grandiose music, not pop ballads. (4.5/10)

This loop-based dark folk project from Sweden may seem new to many people, although it has been churning since 1989. Deutsch Nepal punctuates dark ambient soundscapes with midpaced dance beats and noise abuse. Traces of early Swans, Tangerine Dream, Sol Invictus, and Coil emerge, but the intent behind each track differs. Overall, the effect is disquieting, and who can expect anything less from Cold Meat Industry.

"U.R. Blackhouse" opens with a war march as the heavily processed vocals advance the dirge into exile. The interplay between LFO and slightly-more upfront vocals in "Heartbomb" and "Blowjob Parasite" are a bit more noteworthy, because they blacken the dusk with more (seeming) discipline... I don’t think "restraint" is the appropriate term, perhaps their method slow and steady build, along with the dark synth, pull my focus more readily than busy beats. For instance, the dominant ghetto-blast on "Permobile Erotomatik" is a bit of buzzkill, but the growling drone fuck in "Menage a Troi…cent" comes to my swift rescue.

Rated high, because the cumulative effect of Deutsch Nepal scrapes with long nails. "Erotikon" is a varied soundscape, but is also trance-inducing as a nocturnal, deserted highway.

Let it also be known that Erotikon has the best digipak artwork ever. The woman is not pleased. Nor are the dogs. (7/10)

The new, third album by the Swiss Djizoes: (pronounced "Jesus," so I'm told) opens with an uptempo heavy metal number that puts the Iron Maiden influences out in the open. With a hymnal approach as its backbone, fast melodic guitars and galloping, Harris-styled bass lines, the song is swift, even though the vocal pronunciation threatens its catchiness (the singing itself is fairly good and melodic).

But Djizoes: aren't just Iron Maiden wannabes, as they exhibit a more modern approach. The blasting, machinegun drumming is a major force that takes this recording into more extreme realms. Moreover, the arrangements are far less polished and harmonized than Maiden's output; instead, Djizoes:’s are dense in a natural way as well as slightly chaotic, which makes the songs' intrinsic relations and structures all the more interesting to explore.

And indeed, "interesting" is the key word here. In the papers might not be memorable or emotional enough to sweep you away in a true/power metal fashion but Djizoes: managed to create something refreshing, and that is not to be taken lightly these days. (7.25/10)

Of all the sonic journeys music can take you on, you'd expect an innocent walk by the creek to be perfectly safe. But wait... surprise, surprise. I guess we in Croatia aren’t the only ones to have land mines.

We love walking through the forests as much as the next black metal nerd, but what we most definitely do not anticipate is an army of children tracking us down while singing old death songs, voices of dictators' speeches coming from indefinable directions, pointy, rusty ends of military hardware sticking out of the ground (Don't listen to Fenriz: sandals are not a good idea) and those voices. Or screams. Who's making them? And the smell of gunpowder and stale blood... is the war not over?

Probably not for EgoNoir, a "Psycho German Dark Metal" outfit. Der Pfad Zum Fluss is only their one, first, album, but it feels like listening to three albums by other bands. It's easy to access it through the first, title track. Simple, slow guitars, simple drums and German vocals quite similar to Lacrimosa, especially because of the backing violin instrumentation and a gentle choir. But, cross the babbling brook and you're no longer in the safe territory. The choir becomes deeper and colder, and the vocals depart, hiding and screaming from somewhere in the trees. Someone is whistling a melancholic tune while the night is coming down. Come closer and it's your funeral. Better run. Don't listen to what sounds like a ‘60s German pop song wooing you; it's actually a deadly lullaby.

EgoNoir just came from out of nowhere, from deep within or as an echo of the unsolved traumas of the past. The only thing that is here and now is, unfortunately, the sound — it seems that too many mp3 tracks were used during mixing, and it shows. But not so much to make Der Pfad Zum Fluss less than an uncomfortable, yet soothing trip into a blackest direction you could take in a German forest. (8.9/10)

Marty Friedman declares he isn't really into instrumental music — he prefers songs. This, his new instrumental album, backs him up. The tracks on Loudspeaker are songs without vocals (well, except one of them, which actually uses the vocals to form some ambience). They include chords sections that alternates with catchy melodic phrases in a way that is similar to the way verses alternate with the chorus in songs.

Nearly all of the tracks feature a guitar / bass / drums lineup, but the lineup differs from song to song and includes stellar, technical players such as Billy Sheehan and Jeremy Colson; even fellow axe-men Steve Vai and John Petrucci contribute a guest performance each.

As expected, the playing is highly professional and tight, even though the rhythm section is quite limited in its function, being generally used for strict timekeeping (but I'll give Friedman a bit of credit as he does let the bass go upfront quite a few times).

Friedman, needless to say, is a gifted player. Personally, I don't really care much for his chordal maneuvers, but his more delicate leads and solos are extremely pleasant. Basically what Friedman does throughout is to take his light and lightning-fast melodic phrases and play them repeatedly with endless variations. The variations are not necessarily in the notes played — many times the effects that Friedman uses makes the difference, and he alters these swiftly and generously.

Friedman rarely takes risks here (the "flight of the bumblebee"-like segment on "Glycerine Flesh" is noteworthy), and too often his compositions border on self-plagiarism ("Coloreas Mi Vida," for example, hails back to the days of "Introduction," and even the only non original track "Sekai Nii Hitotsu Dake No Hana" echoes his classic "Thunder March"), only with his past fire smoothed. Thus, this tuneful album should be taken in the right measures to avoid an overdose of the sweetness Friedman now embraces (did I mention the man's stylist is credited?). (7.25/10)

Fu Manchu's new release lives up to the band's reputation of being loud and fuzzy. The band is high on adrenaline. The vocals are engaging with their half-shout (the vocals on "Between the Lines" actually brings to mind the harshness of Slayer's Tom Araya), and the playing is edgy, trading power chords with upbeat riffs.

The band occasionally slows down for a more laid-back yet still fuzz-heavy, sludgy treatment, and while the songs remain enjoyable, they see the band resembling Corrosion of Conformity a bit too much, which doesn't quite flatter the less competent Fu Manchu. This shouldn't, however, stop fuzz-rock junkies from getting this hard rocking release. (6/10)

Collateral Defect’s first track, a cyber-like intro, is perhaps not the most compelling in the world, primarily because it fails to infuse the atmosphere with the cold, death-like emotions that it strives to. "Bloodwork" has weird sound, as though the song is distant and the feelings blotted. There is a hint of discord throughout the album, which appears during unexpected fragments. For example, certain parts of the songs sound impetuous, as though the musicians are just rushing.

"Suicide Code" is a perfect demonstration of the style that Graveworm are pertaining to: death-black metal with keyboards and dual vocal styles.

A "let's go!" is not the most original phrase to use in a song, and frankly, it serves no actual purpose in "The Day I Die."

Guest appearances include Maurizio Iacono of Kataklysm on "Touch of Hate" and The Sorrow's Matze on "The Fragile Side." Also featured on this album is a Bonnie tyler cover, "I Need A Hero," which Graveworm have managed to saturate with melancholy. "Scars of Sorrow" is a relatively upbeat, with less of that "cold" black metal feel but with a strange drum sound. The outro has the same useless digital sound as the into, only this time it is longer and more tiresome.

The downside of this record is the music's tendency to come dangerously close to sounding boring and lifeless. The songs just don't quite have that special something, seeing as the energy just dissipates into oblivion. (5/10)

Produced by ex-Faith No More’s Billy Gould (who has recently joined Harmful as a fourth member), 7 finds the German band bashing out on eleven songs that maintain the high level of intent necessary to cover up for the tracks’ sameness.

Harmful sounds quite like Queens of the Stone Age mixed with the Foo Fighters. On some rare moments of particular fury, the vocals even recall Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder on one of his outbursts (check out "Tenderly"). But even though Harmful isn't the most original band around, the credible, distilled songs found here hold the necessary chops and grip you right from the start. Slight alterations in the amplifications, stop-starts and the addition or removal of a channel every now and then make for a dynamic listening, even if the basic scope is quite narrow. (7/10)

Remember when shows like Headbanger's Ball were worth watching? I don't either, as it's been such a long time. Don’t look to Hell Within for answers. After all, they're probably playing with the rest of the crappish metalcore acts on that forsaken channel.

Hell Within hail from Massachusetts, and play generic metalcore with all the characteristics one would expect. The first thing one will notice is the vocalist, as he can also do the whole "I can switch between whiny singing and whiny angst quite easily" vocals. The guitarists, who are quite competent, seem to only bust out an interesting riff once every five minutes. The drums and bass dance the tango together by supplying the rhythmic fills that accompany both the vocalist and the guitarists, but ultimately, it ends up sounding pretty... boring.

There are some good things about this disk; some of the leads really are put together very well (ex: "In the Absence of Fire"), and the vocalist can actually reach some pretty good lows and raspy highs. The production is pretty polished as well, which tends to help the guitars when the vocalist stops shouting. Unfortunately though, these don't help the overall structure of each song, or the genre at large.

If you like metalcore, then check it out — it's not really bad; it's just not anything really special. (5/10)

You can hear an album and immediately have an impression of whether you love it, or hate it; or, you'll hear an album and fall in love with it on the first listen, but later begin to like it less and less. HermH's Eden's Fire is majestically layered symphonic black metal that kicks as much ass the following times around as it did the first time.

Despite taking a decade off since their previous album, Angeldemon, HermH has not grown old and tired of their work. Not only are the guitars laid down with high precision and energy, but the massive backing keyboards add a whole dimension of intensity — like on the track "Back From Divine" — that make it sound like something from a big-budget blockbuster movie soundtrack.

The glory of Eden's Fire lies in the impact alone. The album never gets boring, nor does it slow down. It is a constant crusade of brutality from start to finish. Unlike other albums where the orchestral element takes the main stage above all else, the musicianship and actual instrumental performances are top notch. The riffs are diverse and intricate, and even the bass guitar is audible enough to hear and enjoy.

Another black metal band released a symphonic album recently with a keyboardist providing the orchestrations... Dimmu Borgir. Strangely enough, HermH have done it much better, and have made a much more exciting album as a whole! That's really saying something, as this particular reviewer enjoyed In Sorte Diabloli quite a bit. HermH surpasses their adversaries as Eden's Fire evokes the demons of hell to rend their enemies asunder. Indeed. (9.11/10)

Harmonic inquiries spindle forth from juggernaut-like finger patterns. Discernable lyrics spew forth from the brutish maw of vocalist Ross Dolan; and rhythmic sections sound forth as if the earth itself shakes under Immolation's heretical presence. Oh, yes, Shadows in the Light cripples the competition when it comes to unmatched brutality and ferocity.

Immolation is known for their consistency, for sticking to their own unique style. Shadows in the Light also takes the path of its predecessors, and further expands upon the gloom present in all previous releases. Each song is a powerhouse on its own, fueled by chaotic dissonance and the maintaining of a groove created by the division of the guitar from the drums and bass. Right as the instruments join together in quaking cadences, the guitars split off and pull out above the other instruments with pinch harmonics galore — and of course. After the immediate shell-shock of such events, we are led right back into the encroached path with trilling leads and pulsing solos.

The production is very thick, the drums being the most prominent instrument in the mix most of the time. The guitars are typically subdued during rhythm sections as they are overshadowed by the drums; this quickly stops, however, once the leads break through the miasma of bottom notes. The vocals are not the loudest, which is a definite plus, as this gives the vocals the same treatment as the other instruments. Here they are used not only to vocalize the lyrical theme behind each song (something the other instruments have no problem doing on there own), but are also used to keep rhythm and demonstrate the dynamic between the stressed higher notes of the guitar and the deep bellowing throngs of the bass and drums.

There is no excuse not to own this if you are a fan of Immolation or death metal in general. Do yourself a favor, and pick this release up immediately; after all, that is the very least you can do for a band who has been around 20 years and has managed to better themselves with every album. (9.6/10)

What a treat! 

It Will Come's new effort — which is nothing more than a collection of their previous demos, plus a bonus song, hence a debut full-length album — is one of the best doom metal releases in a long, long time; and this is even prior to me mentioning the band is female-fronted.

47 / Bound is a musical gem I can hardly contain myself from slapping my face for letting (or the band behind it) evade my doom metal-tuned radar.

Unlike the female-fronted "Gothic" metal bands (Theater of Tragedy, et. Al.) or anomalies such as the ones screaming for Nuclear Death, Mythic, Gallhammer or Opera IX, It Will Come's vocalist revives the tradition of once-great women "with balls" that sang passionately with no pretense. The heartfelt vocal performance is devoid of any charade or mask — delivering an honest, powerful and clear message with their voices; and yet still remain metal as fuck.

I'm mostly referring to the UK-based ancient band Sacrilege (namely their megalithic Within the Prophecy album) fronted by Lynda "Tam" Simpson; The 3rd and the Mortal's timeless Kari Rueslatten; the twisted, angelic voice of Monika Edvardsen of Atrox; and last but definitely not least, Danishta Rivero of Aghora. (Why do people always diss Ann-Mari Edvardsen, The 3rd and the Mortal’s second and superior singer? – ed)

It Will Come's vocalist (and bass player), Louise Halldin, is such a great singer. Her voice embodies the synergistic qualities of the aforementioned "divas" of hard and heavy metal, sans the stereotypes; the general macho bullshit conception that metal cannot be performed, on any level of adequacy, by a woman.

Halldin sings so powerfully and clearly, her voice is awe-inspiring. The whole of the album to some extent leans on her throat's frequencies; she manifests so many dichotomies at the same time that your head spins; utter melancholy, rage, hatred, angelic tranquility and God's wrath; her voice is like the loving mother and the punishing vindicator in the same figure; the caress and the iron fist, a fist straight to the heart.

47 / Bound is one of the most straightforward albums you'll encounter; it does not play tricks of any kind; it does not try to be sophisticated, serpentine, elusive or "progressive" and yet — in a very peculiar way — it is all that.

The music is guitar-driven, semi-stoner / traditional doom, but with a very clear thrash metal approach (kind of like if Black Sabbath had ever tried to play thrash-metal). The riffs are all very apocalyptic and ominous in a subtle yet meaningful way; some parts bear a folk-song approach, some parts remind utterly sad lullabies.

The combination between the solid and powerful guitars (and the ultra simple drumming and incessant double-bass kick drums so dominant in the mix) and the exceptionally prevailing and charismatic female vocals — this very extreme — is something the needs to be heard, appreciated and revered.

Overall, if you leave all the background white noise of your everyday life behind for an hour; all the (un)realities and the masks you wear or those that others wear around you, remember some things out there are still genuine and pure — like this album. (10/10 my first — and maybe last — time EVER to give anything this score)

Stoner galore!

Classic (and classy!), crude, and in-your-face stoner elite squad Kingdom of Magic strike with this two-song demo CDR — and the party's on.

Equipped with a loose etiquette for what they actually are trying to achieve, Kingdom of Magic sound like a punk rock band gone stoner — very, very stoner — and ironically, they have succeeded in performing their art meticulously, sticking to the stoner metal / traditional doom aesthetics as closely as anybody ever would.

The vocals are somewhat nonchalantly high-pitched yet throaty and not as gay (in both senses of the word) as one would expect if, let's say, Lee Dorian of Cathedral is someone one would conjure as the epitome of today's traditional doom outfits' singer (he is not).

Kingdom of Magic's vocalist is, as above mentioned, very punk-ish in attitude (think of a vague resemblance to Sid Vicious at times), yet very "metal" in contrast. His roaring voice is steady, unwavering and he can scream his lungs out whenever necessary.

The music, you ask? It is a pure joy for any stoner metal fan out there. Stoner metal is a beast that changes very little; whoever likes stoner, I guess will like ANY decently (if not averagely) executed stoner-oriented metal. What's there not to love? It all sounds more or less the same; it leans on the same basics; it's equipped with the same repetitive and circular riffs and the same bass lines. Stoner is like candy; if you have got a sweet tooth, it doesn't really matter which brand or shape as long as it's SWEET.

Kingdom of Magic's two-song adventure is sweet, indeed. The excellent and vibrant stoner they play is more party-like material than it is doom-metal oriented, meaning it has got no genuinely melancholic side or an underlyingly sad aura. This is heavy-as-fuck, life-loving, fun-metal — if there ever was one — guitar and bass-driven, crystal-clear produced and played with utmost enthusiasm and basic professionalism. What's there not to like? (8.5/10)

Blasts of Holy Birth is a sublimely relaxing album. It’s some mix of warm, lulling, organic folk music mixed with instances of melodic drone.

The album opens with one such drone, straight out of something you’d find on a Stars of the Lid album. The music then shifts gears into its main form, which is largely guitar-driven lullabies. The guitar work abounds with subtleties and dynamics within its subdued range, and is brilliantly complemented with a myriad of backing instruments such as harp, cello, and harmonium.

This is truly where Blasts of Holy Birth excels: it’s not only the mixture of instrumentation and the aplomb with which each instrument’s part is in total harmony with the rest; it’s the way all these players are presented to the audience, with each sonic character being an element of delicate beauty.

The vocals follow suit, being sweet and subdued. "Comfort Inn" is one of the greater times where Lewis and Clarke will make you think of Simon and Garfunkel... ok, it’d be a tall order to topple those masters in their own vocal style, but Lewis and Clarke’s work does nothing but contribute to the musical compositions.

Blasts of Holy Birth is gorgeous. It’s superbly articulated and ideally presented with an appropriate production whose highlights are warmth, delicacy, and prettiness. Sounds like a lock to me. (8.5/10)

Back in the mid-‘90s, a number of bands surfaced that were fronted by women and that mostly consisted of women. Belly, Liz Phair, the Breeders — these women inspired a bunch of teenage girls to keep rocking out just as well as the boys. A couple of those girls grew up to start their own bands and reclaim a strictly girly sensibility.

The Little Bicycles sound just as much like ‘60s girl groups as they sound like rockers from the ‘90s. The combination is pleasant: there is a consistent sound to all the tracks. A jangly guitar and doubled vocals tell us the tales of misspent youth and family dynamics that leave something to be desired. The drummer, the only dude in the group, dutifully keeps the tempo bright and peppy.

There are only two things that keep this album from being an instant hit with me: neither Nadia Kean nor Andrea Hendel (guitarist and bassist respectively) has the kind of voice that reaches out and grabs you over the music. At times, a singer drops below her range, so that the lyrics get muddled in the mix.

In addition, while the Bicycles have hit on a nice formula for their sound, some variety might be nice. I’d be interested in seeing what the Little Bicycles come up with in a couple of years. They have a nice sound, but need to work on bringing something stronger to it. (6.5/10)

I was walking around a park the other day that some people had vandalized. They tagged it with things ranging from incorrectly done occult symbols to stars of David. However, some tasteful lad left the words "punk is not dead" around the ring foundation of a gazebo that used to be a natural spring. I laughed, because punk isn't dead. It's very much alive in bands like The Locust, but even then no one ever really gives such an innovative band the attention they deserve.

When you look at the aesthetics of punk, starting in the ‘70s and into modern-day Screeching Weasels and similar hordes of pop-punk, there's been a fairly large bit of commercialization that hit the genre, and people starting playing it for easy money. The Locust, however, are violently whipping it back into shape like the dominatrix bitch punk's been needing for years upon years.

If you're familiar with The Locust's inverted-Clash style of avant-garde punk, then New Erections is more of the same. For those uninitiated Locust listeners, the band takes punk and destroys it with elements of grindcore, noise and even ambience at some points. There's a dual vocal attack that belts out against disjointed, subversive, and perpetually violent rhythms. The music can range from moments of grindcore into ambient walls of noise brought on through guitar feedback and bass swells.

While this album is definitely not for everyone, for those who appreciate the more mentally unstable side of music, this is going to be divine. (8.5/10)

Never heard of Magni Animi Viri? Well, that's odd, considering the fact that they're tossing armloads of money into the project and the promotion... They have no record label. They simply released the album under their band name. Then again, when you've got as much money as these guys appear to have, you probably don't NEED a label.

The music sounds like a Rhapsody of Fire ballad. You know, the Italian ones — like "Il Canto Del Vento." The full lyrical content of Heroes Temporis is in Italian, though they do have a meticulously put-together English "brochure" that you could read if you're really that interested in the lyrics.

There's something special about listening to a different language and having no idea what is being said. Italian is a very beautiful language, and that beauty does rub off on the music, whereas English would have seemed less grand.

The main vocal performances that shift between Francesco Napoletano and Ivana Giugliano are performed in an overly dramatic manner. I checked the lyric book to see what was so damn sad on "...Temporis," and if anything, the vocals should be performed happily. The topics are fantasy mixed with highschool-level emo poetry. One line reads, "Now I feel like rock, like water springing from the pure font." How can you feel like rock, but be like water?

I wouldn't go as far as to call Heroes Temporis a "masterpiece rock opera," but it is a rock opera, nonetheless... and it's above average, to say the least. The orchestral arrangements, played by the Bulgarian Symphony Orchestra Sif. 309, are incredible — without them, there probably wouldn't be much album left. "Finche" is a pleasant ballad that could probably work without the orchestra: nice piano opening, and a simplistic yet fittingly heavy guitar part fills in the verse and chorus sections. The acoustic guitar is quite nice as well, though can be pretty hard to hear with everything going at once. It's almost like listening to a washboard scratch!

The thing that is great about Heroes Temporis is also somewhat of a negative aspect as well: The generally short song length. The songs range between three to five minutes, and usually feature a solo. The changing mood and style of each song is also a refreshing experience. However, the sense of adventure is lost on such short songs and such hard transitions between each song.

Fans of prog rock and rock operas in general will find something to love in Heroes Temporis, but it may be hard to digest for the non-hardcore prog folks. (7.5/10)

Well, if anything can be said about Manes, it's that they're weird. They started out as an avant-garde black metal band and put out some interesting albums. However, How the World Came to an End is far from being black metal. Or good.

Have you ever wondered what Nine Inch Nails would sound like if they were a bit more metal? That's essentially how Manes sound on this album, even though sometimes you might actually view this as something closer to nu-metal than anything. There're moments of IDM, electronica and ambience amidst sections of quasi-heavy guitar that puts you under the illusion that there is something here to listen to.

Well, don't be fooled. When it comes down to the basics, this album is extremely passable, and even has a rap song. That's right. Rap.

Fuck this album. (0/10)

note by: Roberto Martinelli

The highlight of this debut EP is the potent sound of the guitars, as they erupt and envelop the ears. Montana's Martriden combine many elements that the extreme metal scene has given birth to, such as Opeth's melodic instants, reflected throughout the first track, "Blank Eye Stare." The thickness of the next track, "The Art of Death Infernal," can be abstractly compared to Scarve's "A Few Scraps of Memories," however minute the comparison is.

The compelling factor with "The Art of Death Infernal" is its tendency to devour. The third track, "In Death We Burn," is interesting in that it offers variety through melodic fragments and emotional guitar riffs. During certain moments, the somewhat unnatural sound of the drums, or the drum machine, is accentuated. However, it works well in some places and perhaps not so well in others. (7/10)

When you get an album from a band named Maserati, you don't expect stuff like Hidria Spacefolk and Ozric Tentacles. You expect something close to radio rock, not music that borrows from psy-rock and space rock. However, luckily, radio rock is not what you get, because Inventions for the New Season" is without a doubt going to be one of the best releases this year.

The album is actually a tricky little number, because the first time you hear the music it really won't sound like anything special at all, just a bunch of fretboard noodling with some heavy echo on, and no vocals to be found anywhere. It's not until you're driving at dusk that the cerebral flow of this album will hit you: the subconscious rhythm that connects parts of these songs to you emotionally, the subtleties that will endear this album to you.

However, they're buried beneath layers and layers of ambience created by Maserati's penchant for using echo to create atmosphere. The music is extremely effects-laden, and takes awhile to progress, yet always manages to inflict subtle changes that keeps the rhythm and melody evolving. You can't always hear it change when it does, but you know that somewhere from the beginning to the end, any certain song will have changed radically.

Inventions for the New Season’s success relies heavily on imagery. The opener, "Inventions," has a very slow start up that begins with mental trickery as a melody, slowly ebbing and swaying in new directions behind all the reverb and feedback. As the song closes, you quit seeing things with your eyes and instead see yourself walking down a dank city street after a heavy rain with all of your footsteps hidden in surrealistic darkness.

"Show Me the Season," however, is a completely different tune and almost the polar opposite. The melodies on this song are flighty and soaring, almost to the point where listening to it is life-affirming, even down to the uber-melodic bassline. The first time I heard this song, I got goose bumps throughout the whole thing, and having spammed it for a month, I still can shake the feeling of happiness I get whenever I hear this song.

You might not expect Maserati to be anything spectacular before hearing them, Inventions for the New Season is an essential album for almost all walks of music fanatics, whether they like Explosions in the Sky, Pink Floyd, U2, or indie. (10/10)

Friends by The Molecules, which was originally supposed to be a three CD release, is out, but cut down to twenty-nine tracks that spans more than an hour of avant-rock. If you've never heard of the group before, imagine grindcore gone indie, and that's about what you have.

The music on this album ranges from frenetic and insane, to the slow and psychedelic / groovy. The production is extremely lo-fi, which could cater to fans of math rock or Steve Albini's stuff with Shellac.

While the general disregard for any conventional form of music might seem appealing, I don't know if any one person can tolerate an hour of this, as sometimes it just degrades into impossibly dense noise and honestly, just gets obnoxious.

In the end, it's an album that you should approach with extreme caution, as this can get more mentally trying than the Daughters or Hella. Try sneaking some songs in at a party for the criminally ill, though. It'll be a big hit. (5/10)

Sometimes reviewing death metal is a pain in the ass. Not because of the music itself, but because you can say pretty much the same thing about every single standard death metal band. As much as I'd like to say otherwise, generic modern death metal is horribly limited by just one vocal style, just two or three kind of riffs and about two kinds of blastbeats and two kinds of slow rhythms. That's precisely why bands like Lykathea Aflame have such a big impact. Go ahead, say that those millions of soundalike death metal bands are needed, but deep down you know you're wrong.

Sadly, Muerte Villa is one of those millions of bands. It's a standard Mexican death metal band (even if they don't really come from Mexico). In fact, if you're at all into metal, you should already know Mexican death metal and Florida death metal enough to know just how Muerte Villa sounds. Inhumanly low vocals? Check. Atonal, just time-filling riffs? Check. Non-existent bass? Check.

Justwherethehelldoesonesongendandthenextonestart? Check.

La Conquista is a festival of brutality, heaviness... and boredom. Sure, Muerte Villa are heavier than a truck and more brutal than a psycho killer on heavy drugs, but it's also about as boring as listening to a dishwasher for hours, and about as useful. Precisely what happens with most Mexican death metal bands.

See, it's not that it's bad. I can see a lot of people moshing and headbanging and all, but it just doesn't work on CD. The riffs are good enough to make noise if playing live; they'd work only in that context. The vocals are genre-standard, just what they need and no more. The drumming is typical snare-blasting death metal drumming. But... just why are we supposed to listen to yet another generic band that isn't even fun? I'll give you a dollar if you answer that one (well, not really).

Anything and everything about Muerte Villa is formulaic, with some political overtones added who-knows-why. Hell, I doubt you'd be able to tell them from some other random Texas band. While that might be good for some purist death metal fans, it certainly isn't good in the big picture.

So... brutal but also brutally generic, La Conquista works only if you just want to mosh or something. It's decent generic death metal at best, slightly heavier than average but also pointless when it comes to musical relevancy. Go for it if you're one of those guys that know Malevolent Creation or Brujeria's whole discography riff by riff. Otherwise, don't — there are many much better bands out there. (4.6/10)

As the years continue to pass, it becomes more and more apparent that Ulver set the bar impossibly high when they recorded the genre-defining, metal-meets-folk album Kveldssanger in 1995. Of course, the average listener wouldn’t necessarily pick up on the metal influences in this masterpiece, as the entire album is acoustic, with no drums, and the vocals are clean and melodic. But to a metal fan, it overflows with the essence of metal, and particularly black metal, and specifically Bergtatt, the black metal masterwork that preceded it, in how it weaves a dark, warm aura of forest worship.

Since Kveldssanger, there have been a few albums now and again that you try to stack up against Ulver’s classic. But they almost always fall short, and often very short. Either the vibe is far too sissified, or the music is literally riffs written for distorted guitar but played on an acoustic, or the band makes a major faux pas of some kind that renders the album dorky... like you’d just wish they’d play proper metal, for crying out loud. Ulver never had that problem.

Neun Welten’s Vergessene Pfade is as close to rivaling Kveldssanger as I’ve heard in a long time. Like in Ulver’s case, Neun Welten uses a multitude of acoustic instruments and interveaves them marvelously, with the violin, flute, and of course the guitar being the stand-outs. Comparatively, Neun Welten’s music is more technical and busy, and less medieval as Ulver’s.

Curiously, the parts where Neun Welten do less well is when they incorporate a drum kit in their music. Like the other instruments, the drum parts are played well, but there’s something odd in that the sound seems to brighten up whenever the drums come in. It’s not really the best effect: Neun Welten will have woven a really good feel of dark and pleasant melody, and then the drums kick in and the mood becomes perky and unfortunately watered-down.

Now, this critique does not ruin the album. Rather, the album would have been much better without the drums, or at least drums that served to give the music weight rather than brightness. Regardless, Vergessene Pfade is a successful and recommended album in that it is still a pleasant, relaxing, and engaging experience, and the whisper vocals in German are icing on the cake. (7.5/10)

Neurosis' importance to music these days cannot be understated. Starting as a hardcore band, they ventured into sludge territory and have since put out album after album that completely rewrites the band's place at the forefront of the commonplace Neurosis/Isis worship going on these days. Their last album, The Eye of Every Storm, was an incredibly atmospheric and dense album the featured some of Neurosis' most interesting tirades into ambient territory, and with the release of Given to the Rising, it seems that Neurosis are determined to still produce an album that sounds distinctly like them, while not holding on to much of the previous formula.

That being said, if you were a fan of Neurosis' pre-A Sun That Never Sets material, you're going to feel at-home with Given to the Rising. It's not the outright sludge material that defined them in their mid-90s hey day; it's a fantastic point in Neurosis' journey. Instead of relying on heavy atmospheric sections, Neurosis manage to pull off their trademark depressive passages with progressively noisier music while managing to give their instruments much more versatility and their technique much more diversity this time around. Songs like the title-track start in an uproar of heavy guitar and noise, and less than two minutes into the track, you're treated to an orchestral section that sounds almost divine.

Midway through the song, it undergoes another rhythmic evolution and recalls the post-rock musings of the legendary Slint before flanger

distortion sets in and leads the song into a much more sinister verse.

Immediately after comes the ever-surprising "Fear and Sickness," which starts out vintage Neurosis with a fuzzed-out guitar riff over ambient noise, and leads into a verse that sounds not too far removed from fellow Neurot labelmates Made Out of Babies, evolving into a monolithic groove with the most ominous of overtones. You're treated to a moment of fleeting stillness before the song erupts into one of the most energetic passages Neurosis have mustered up since their hardcore days.

One of the most intriguing things about Neurosis, however, is how the lyrics and the music correlate so well. Their general theme is evolution through trial of the what-doesn't-kill-me motif. "To the Wind" is an excellent example. It opens with sustained and somber post-rock guitar musings backed by a swooning ambient canvas, and as things gradually build towards a heart-throbbing chorus, you hear the message: "I saw God in death through you, most things we'll never know. The darkest water runs in the feasting cancerous. The questions burn in cages of a masterless life of disease."

Perfectly matching the downtrodden melody and substandard rhythmic pulse, you hear things gradually becoming more hectic and hellish. Arbitrary noise grates at your consciousness as the guitar wails the anthem of your spiritual deterioration. Then, the music goes quiet again, and you hear whispers: "All the feel the warning see to will its steeds, of black to cut us down; of white to light our sound; of red to burn and drown; and grey to spread like ash to the ground; to the wind." Walls of massive guitar pour in like waterfalls and envelope you as the anthem of completion washes through your mind.

Perhaps the strongest point of Neurosis throughout their career, however, has been to downplay their minimalist production values and let the emotion behind the band's music cause the sound to come to life and interact with the listener's mind before they even understand what they're suddenly hearing. "Hidden Faces" is a fantastic example of this, as you hear nothing but guitar feedback immediately as it starts to build upon itself. Eventually, you hear signs of a riff. Drums intro the underlying rhythm. What sounds to be an organ provides a stellar, stationary backdrop for the music as it gradually begins to come to life, and all of a sudden you hear the real soul of this album as it starts pounding and throbbing, and you hear the sound of your reality being stretched thin and your sanity tested immediately before a solemn break where you're given a small moment of free breath before the cerebral warfare begins again.

It seems at times that it's almost like Neurosis enjoy the fact that they're able to suspend standard production that doesn't play on studio tricks to achieve heaviness and use it as a clear palette to let their musical creation come to life.

In the end, Given to the Rising seems almost textbook Neurosis. The band is in the peak of their form, as they've been for a few years now. It's an album that you don't listen to as much as you allow its tendrils to wrap around your mind, isolating you into their world instead of yours. They're the man putting you through torture who's hoping you make it out not only alive, but stronger than you were before. This album is an experience that few should pass up. (10/10)

A supergroup comprising Bobby Harrison (Procol Harum, Freedom, Snafu), Tony Stevens (Savoy Brown. Foghat), Joe Jammer (Olympic Runners) and Jerry Frank, Nobody's Business had the rocking qualities of early Whitesnake (which emerged around the same time and featured Harrison's Snafu colleague Micky Moody), the sensitivity of Free and a funkiness all of its own.

Tasteful guitar licks, masculine bass playing that will constantly keep you alert, and an eager vocal performance (just listen to the powerful, heartfelt "Losing You") are at the heart of this album — and it is truly as simple and as classic as that!

This 1978 release is the band's sole album — released only in Japan, before it was shelved by the record label. Angel Air did a fantastic job with this re-issue: not only that it offers the original album (now available for the first time on CD) remastered with excellent fidelity and bonus material (three songs from later '78 sessions that appear here for the first time), the package also includes a DVD with six engaging live-in-the-studio videos of the band (including a fine song that is not available on the CD).

Who cares why this band never made it?! this package is a treat for fans of hard rock! (9/10)

Mr. Johnson? Not the famous blues man that shows himself on The Narcotic Story, but the alter-ego of Oxbow singer Eugene Robinson. Why does he need an alter-ego? It is beyond us. If you have ever seen him perform... (and some of us here at Maelstrom have, and lived to tell the tale) well, let’s just say there is certainly nothing wrong with his ego.

Robinson seemingly distinguishes his own self, as a vocalist, with the rest of us, the audience, in special kind of way... a sexy kind of way, but in actuality it’s an open invitation: first he pumps his arms to the rhythm of the music; he’s feeling it, he invites us to feel it too, and we’re pumping our arms too, to the rhythm of the music. Next he starts to unbutton his shirt, showing off a white sleeveless shirt, and bulging chest muscles... should we? Are we? Yes, we are unbuttoning our shirt.

Our muscles are not as impressive, but what do we care? We pump our arms some more, up there on the stage, on the record, and down here, in the audience, in front of the stereo. His vocals are out of this world, and we are out of this world. He takes off his shirt, and sweat pours, making the tattoos on his arms glisten. He pumps, we pump. He screams numbers, and faces, and about giving and about taking. It’s all about the giving, and not the taking. Robinson knows, and he’s eager to share. He reaches down towards his pants, and unbuttons them too. We’re starting to feel very sexy.

According to Occam’s razor, Robinson is merely taking his clothes off because he gets too hot, and he has said so to us in the past — it’s as simple as that, so we shouldn’t take much notice — but standing there half naked, up on the stage, this big and beautiful black man, screaming and pumping, we can’t help but be impressed, aroused, scared, and full of admiration. We are hot, and bothered, so we need some fucking relief. We tackle the stage, we climb up there. We pump next to him, and pump with him, and then Robinson takes us in his arms, his big tattooed arms, and then we pass out. He has choked us into unconsciousness. And the journey begins.

Robinson is stunning on the record (as he is on stage), and so are the other members of the band. The execution of their respective instruments is stellar. The music is tight, it pulls and it pushes, and within it, and launching from it, are each of their voices, all represented in equal measure. Each voice has a glorious sound, a sound that intoxicates and envelopes the pleasure points of the brain.

Greg Davis is a wonderful drummer; his sticks explode onto the skins, rumbling down the toms and putting down the beats with such fierce energy that it pushes the track into uncertain territory — who knows when his next fill will come and crack the walls around us. When the rhythm dies down, Davis knows how to fall in unison with the rest of the band, but he truly shines when the track itches for a fast-paced freak-out.

Dan Adams and his bass, like the drum work of Davis, serves as a most solid foundation on which the tracks are traveling. His sound on this record is beyond gorgeous — it is the way a bass guitar should sound on record. At times, even, it is almost as if the rest of the record opens up like curtains, and the sound of Adams’ bass work is presented with such clarity and precision, that it becomes hard to stay calm. His fingers glide, and his sound follows suit, and then we follow suit. We glide as he glides. We sway excitedly in the tide of deep waves of bass.

Niko Wenner has done an amazing job in not only injecting The Narcotic Story with a glorious sense of rock ‘n roll with his stringed stop ‘n start jabs, or his drawling and drooling finger picking voodoo magic, but also in writing all the orchestral parts for the record. It works, and it works wonders. Oxbow with strings; Oxbow with piano. Oxbow is moving, pounding, screaming in the world in style, because Wenner so perfectly places Robinson into haunting and uncomfortable territory. From the manic sing, sing strings of "Down a Stair Backward," through the gorgeous melancholy of "She’s a Find" (where the strings and piano perform beautifully) all the way to the dazzling, distorted closer "It’s the Giving, Not the Taking": Wenner sounds on top of everything, he’s taking center stage much like Robinson does, his guitar mumbles, then explodes, then mumbles, and then explodes more.

The booklet says, "failure is the only option." Oxbow wins, hands down. But we’re glad to fail. We fucking took to the stage, and we pumped, and we failed. We failed at the very best thing we could ever hope to achieve, that which Oxbow achieves on The Narcotic Story: musical perfection, and because of it we’re still miles ahead of everyone else. The rest can suck it: we’re stunning, in all our unconscious glory. (10/10)

Pale Divine is also known as "one of the few bands able to mix traditional doom with fun." On a personal note, this is their third album I have reviewed; one got a 9.3 and the other one a 9.6. I guess that alone speaks about their quality. So, does Cemetery Earth live up to their previous releases?

To get that out of the way: yes, it does. No matter how many style-changes Pale Divine do, they always manage to be fun. The aspect that improved a whole lot since the last time is the riffs. Tracks like "(I Alone) The Traveler" are serious rollercoasters of humongous riffs.

But not everything is riffs here. The vocals work just as well as they worked on their past albums, the drumming is still as strong while not being overwhelming, and the bassist often plays something different from the guitar riffs (which is actually quite rare in this kind of band). Even the production is great, making everything sound really heavy but, at the same time, crystal clear.

Pale Divine isn't afraid of inserting faster parts, even power-metalish ones, leading one to see a stronger Candlemass (or even Iron Maiden) influence than a Pentagram one, at times. They are, however, still Pentagram-like at their core, minus all the blues influences. That's precisely one of Cemetery Earth's virtues, it's traditional doom but it doesn't copy everything from the godfathers of the genre, and it's not tied to the ‘80s, as opposed to all the other bands in the genre (well, except Reverend Bizarre and a select few.) Their ability to "think out of the box" has improved, as shown by the jam-like segments present on tracks like the wah-abusing finale of the mammoth "Cemetery Earth" and some less traditional riffs.

On the other hand, the songwriting has improved as well, with the many lengthy tracks introducing mood changes, slow and acoustic intros, though sadly also presenting more of a traditional verse-chorus-verse structure when compared to older albums. But seriously, that’s the only thing preventing Cemetery Earth from being a perfect modern traditional doom album (sounds impossible, eh? It won't when you listen to it.)

Just like I said months ago, Pale Divine remains one of the best modern doom bands, worthy of much praise (of which, sadly, they haven't received enough). Who can explain why they aren’t as big as Grand Magus? (9.5/10)

Seeing a band like The Pax Cecilia making an album like Blessed Are the Bonds is quite possibly one of the most reassuring things that a music journalist can hear. It's rare these days that you find a band as devoted to art as they say they are, and the Pax Cecilia deliver that and more.

Pigeon-holing them into a genre would be pretty damn tough, because the music on this album ranges from being death metal influenced to sweeping passages of piano melody, and even songs with little to relatively no electric guitar at all. However, there are moments of beauty and splendor on this album that rise above the Pax Cecilia's seemingly pedestrian undertakings.

"The Progress" begins with violent and foreboding riffing with screams of anger and hatred, but evolves into a song with an emotionally pungent end that puts a weight on your heart unlike most other bands.

Then, you have songs like the ten minute opener "The Tragedy," which is based off of the piano, and creates heavily theatric and almost operatic atmospheres to the point where it sets the album up for a perspective that's less like an album and more like a play.

Finally, Blessed are the Bonds is an album that reassures people that music is actually art. The hold this album has on your emotion is almost exquisite, as it runs the gamut from sublime to disheartening, while managing to escape all of the pretentious undertakings of bands like Pain of Salvation and Dream Theater. Essential listening. (9/10)

Pig Destroyer is the greatest grind band on the planet. Period. Albums of theirs such as Prowler in the Yard and Terrifyer are eminently essential records. Pig Destroyer’s recipe for success has always been in presenting the standard brutal and ugly grindcore style of music in a package that was uniquely dirty and unsettling.

The group manage this most notably with skin-crawl-inducing lyrics and imagery that gives you just enough of a picture to freak you out, and then changes direction; it also employs genius riffs and creepy disharmony to back up the straightjacket screams, all of which, when driven on by the sick, sick and heavy drumming, makes for albums that are as memorable from moment to moment as any melodic, hook-laden affair.

Dirty is the key word. Dirty, filthy, depraved, twisted, and fucked-up. And better than anyone else at it in the way it’s done by Pig Destroyer. The absolute height of that craft is undoubtedly Prowler in the Yard, which conveys the deeply unsettling vibes the band does so well.

What’s interesting for enjoying the music and (for the sake of this article) examining the newest album, Phantom Limb, is to see what made Prowler in the Yard (and to a great but lesser extent, the b-side and split collection Painter of Dead Girls) such a success. It’s the unevenness and variety of grit that Pig Destroyer presented the tracks to the listener. Prowler is all one album, but the songs from track to track sound like they were done during totally different recording sessions. This results in the album having more life and character, for grind is a jarring, disturbing experience, and what better way for a grind band’s music to take on schizophrenic characteristics than to make it sound unpolished, raw, and sonically inconsistent? Pig Destroyer pulled it off with Prowler, because even though the tracks sounded different, they all fit in together as a seriously damaged yet lethal album. And the inimitably creepy intro and outro just heightened the feeling.

Terrifyer, the following album, was a step in a more produced and sonically consistent direction. Who could blame them? Pig Destroyer probably had greater means at their disposal to record, and their product showed that. The riffs were still killer, the vocals still hungry, and the drums sounded better than ever. It wasn’t quite as good as Prowler, but Terrifyer was no disappointment.

Unfortunately, Phantom Limb is. If you take the music at face value, Pig Destroyer is still doing what it does so well. As far as imagery, artwork, and lyrics, everything is on par. Rather, this is by far the most attractive and complementary album art the band has used yet. So in all the most apparently obvious facets, Pig Destroyer seems to be staying the course. Except on this album, they fall short. Whether the trio’s formula is becoming stale, whether the fire is starting to wane and albums are becoming routine, cannot really be said from solely listening to Phantom Limb.

We’re blaming the production. Pig Destroyer has gone too far over the line in making their album spiffy. There’s an overall feeling of too much compression and suffocation as the music is sonically condensed, pushed up, and crushed against the production’s ceiling. The dirt and grit doesn’t have room to fall haphazardly where it may under these conditions. In retrospect, the direction that they started to take on Terrifyer now seems like the beginning of a slippery slope.

The guitar tone is severely lacking compared to previous albums. The heavy, beefy, lethal, "fuck you, I’m punk, but I can play" vibe; the filthy precision that the riffs came across with on the band’s greatest recordings have been replaced with a much thinner, more polite tone with far less presence. And, dude, when there’s only one guitarist in the band, no bass player, and no other instrumentalist other than the drummer, what the fuck is up with that?

The vocals are far less hungry. The feeling that the singer was ripping out of his skin every time he opened his mouth is greatly reduced. Again, probably blame the production, as the high-end distortion is greatly toned down, which makes the result sound, again, well-mannered in comparison.

Finally, there now seems to be a fourth, full-time member in Pig Destroyer? Huh? And the guy is credited as doing "noise"? What? Now, I’m no noise expert, but I can’t hear anything this guy is contributing except for like a 15-second clip on the third-to-last track; and I guess elements of the last track of warm (but still slightly creepy), swinging on a swampland house’s porch ambience could count as noise... but I’m reaching here — really trying to find these instances.

So, what I want to know is, if I recorded some really excellent farts for a Lugubrum album (I’d make sure they were pitch-shifted and compressed), could I be a full-time member, get my picture in the booklet, and get to thank a bunch of people in the liner notes? I’ve always wanted an avenue to wear overalls, hang out with pigs, and run around with a shotgun.

Speaking of the last track, it’s sad to say that the most memorable and enjoyable part of Phantom Limb is in fact the relaxed, Southern-U.S. on a mosquito-filled night in hell track, largely because it doesn’t feel suffocated like the rest of the album.

Whew, lots of criticism. Yes, Phantom Limb is not going to become your favorite Pig Destroyer album. The killer material is still here, but it might take much more patience (than it might be worth) to perceive it. Yet it’s still important to remember that this is still Pig Destroyer were dealing with, so while it ain’t so great considering it came from this band, it’s a fair sight better than much other grindcore. Just don’t start here. Please don’t. (6.6/10)

Okay, so Point One’s lyrics might not always have depth. And the singing sometimes borders the line between "cool" and "annoying." But the music on Unlucky Stars is fun. Genre crossovers are observed, as punk, grunge, nu-metal and rock come together throughout the album. At times, the Muse influence is immense.

Unlucky Stars is well-produced and the sound is clean, demonstrating eccentric coherence. The guitars are catchy and simple, while the vocals are strangely beckoning, however immature they may appear at times. "Cruel" just screams "DANCE!", and it is very easy to picture a room full of hyperactive people swinging to the funky song.

Just as fetching as "Cruel," "Bodies for Freedom" is a fast-paced track that threatens to induce cavorting. The record is perfect as driving music, full of merriment and excitement. (8/10)

Revelations’ opening track, "Odyssey," will make many cringe; its opening sounds EXACTLY like My Dying Bride's "The Cry of Mankind" (from The Angel and the Dark River), but it being such a great opening regardless, everyone — the ones who are familiar with the above mentioned My Dying Bride track and the ones who are not — can just enjoy those magnificent sounds anyway.

What's happening to The Prophecy is not so dissimilar to the process Pink Floyd underwent: distancing itself, from one record to the next, from being a unique progressive, psychedelic, experimental, rock pioneer, to just a good rock band with some emotive songs and some bombastic arrangements. An excellent band nonetheless, however not as singular.

Revelations is an outstanding album in terms of song writing, production and execution. Its textures are rich, multi-layered, and lush. This is a really beautiful album, but it is neither doom nor metal any more (in its true, profound sense) and its radiance as a singular recording bearing only The Prophecy's DNA is questionable and less than noticeable.

Regardless, the tunes are emotive enough and the arrangements touching, almost melancholic. The only remains from their doom metal era are the harsh vocals that intertwine sporadically with the clear ones, and the occasional slow-paced, heavily-distorted guitars on display. The only true exception to this rule is track number six, which is a pure doom/death offering; heavy, dark, twisted and slow.

But most of the time, the new incarnation of The Prophecy sounds like Yearning's With Tragedies Adorned: nothing unusual, nothing unique, albeit majestic and noble, and very, very accessible. Good emotional and highly melodic rock/metal music for lonely people on lonely nights. (6.8/10)

Which is the nerdiest genre of music? Some might say metal (after all, who'd listen to guys shrieking about Satan over random tremolo picking but nerds?), classical (music without a chorus? counterpoint and harmony? orchestration?) or even noise (don't think much of an explanation is needed).

All three are wrong. This compilation here, Waerloga Records’ Radio Rivendell, is the nerdiest thing ever, bar none. Wait, I should say one of the most awesome compilations AND the nerdiest thing ever, bar none.

Seeing as Radio Rivendell features music from medieval, soundtrack and ambient composers, it'd be expected for the compilation to be good enough. But it isn't just good enough, it's a whole soundtrack to any nerdy D&D-ish thing you can think of. Epic battles, tavern music, evil monster that rules the world, town music, marching music, etc...

Just like most soundtrack music, most of the tracks evoke a specific situation. Balaghan's "Secret Place" is like a journey; Lost Kingdom's "In Heaven" is like a peaceful stay in town; Rising Shadow's "Dead Cold," with its enigmatic arpeggios and harp lines, feels like town music too, but for a really far off place.

In a way, the Radio Rivendell compilation works like a soundtrack to an imaginary game, and it is, as a whole, stylistically quite similar to Jeremy Soule's soundtrack for "The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind" video game (which I personally recommend if you enjoy the music here.)

Most of the tracks are done in a mainly neoclassical style (and I don't mean neoclassical shred, thankfully) with medieval influences being stronger on some tracks and nonexistant in others, just like what you'd want to listen to while playing an RPG. Or, if you're nerdy enough, Dungeons & Dragons. But really, the thing that makes it all so mindnumbingly great is the fact that everything is clasically composed with every note carefully thought out. It's not surprising that some guys found here have written music for soundtracks.

Even while most artists are obviously different in style, there's a cohesion on Radio Rivendell that I haven't seen in any other compilation. It almost seems like most artists were told to work in a specific style, so everyone worked thinking about the same thing. Highlights include Markus Holler’s, Erdenstern's and Morgan the Bard's tracks, but really, every single one of the tracks here is remarkable and fits the compilation perfectly.

If you're at all into medieval, classical, soundtrack music, ambient with actual music going on or anything nerdy, go ahead. Otherwise, you'll probably find Radio Rivendell to be a cheesefest (and you know what? you're probably right, but it being a cheesefest is the best thing about it!.) Expect great things, as you'll find plenty here. (9.75/10)

Red Harvest's career is built on not releasing the same thing over and over again, and constantly changing their "formula" to making music. So, even if there is a bad Red Harvest album, at least it's entertaining somewhat. With that said, their new album, A Greater Darkness, is out, and with mixed results.

It's true, no Red Harvest fan is going to expect this album. It's a hell of a lot more atmospheric and noisy this time around, so if you're a fan of slow, progressive melodies on top of ambience that hits the mark more often than not, you're going to dig this album.

However, it has to be said that a lot of the music on this album ranges from mediocre to downright boring. "Antidote" is a strong opener that slowly pounds as the noise and ambience builds on top of it, and really is an enjoyable tune; the second track, "Hole in Me" is the same way.

It's not until "Dead Cities" that you kind of feel like these over-repeated rhythms and riffs are starting to get pretty annoying. Things just continue like this throughout the album, so it's a fairly mixed bag.

Not a bad album, but you're better off listen to some Strapping Young Lad if it's noisy metal you're after. (5.5/10)

This album is a complete and utter celebration of terribleness.

Doesn’t the album name say it all? You don’t even have to read this or any other review. It’s no-brainer aspect makes life easy for all: for the consumer and for the critic, who doesn’t even need to try to convince you of how bad it is.

All you need to do is consider the following: Welcome to the Suck is the result of a supposedly pop-punk band effort to compile 20 cover songs onto one album. We’re talking songs like "Ain’t No Sunshine," "Brown Eyed Girl," "The Boxer," and "Take Me Home, Country Roads," along with other priceless tunes of Americana that defined a generation, such as the theme song to the TV show "Cheers."

The lot is done in an insufferably upbeat, aggressive, duh-duh punk style that features hilariously inappropriate clicky drums, terrible singing, lots of "hey!" saying, and music that makes each cover performed sound so much like every other song on this album that you question how the music industry managed to get the World to become enamored with these tunes in the first place.

Yes, Welcome to the Suck blows. This much should be clear from the get-go. In case that doesn’t catch you, check out the cover art of a baby with crust-punk piercings. Not enough? Flip the CD over to see a band photo of the doofs in the group, seemingly taken just moments after having taken a tennis ball to the nuts.

But what makes it interesting isn’t how much the album blows, but that it exists, and exists on a pretty major and respectable label, Locomotive Records. Is this a great joke that only Spaniards will appreciate? Is the guy that runs Locomotive Records in the band?

Our roomate says there’s some band called Me First and the Gimme Gimmes that does this very same shtick, but that it doesn’t completely suck. Whatever. Whether it’s good or not, though, the idea’s managed to become even more tired because it’s been done before.

Our roomate and ourselves, being bachelor boys who live together, also come up with some of the stupidest scenarios, just like you and your mates do. However, we feel pretty confident that if we ever acted on the overwhelming majority of these ideas, we’d snap out of it in about 10 minutes and realize that the idea was retarded, not worth doing, and, most importantly, no longer funny. Either the Rezidudes are recording geniuses and recorded all 20 of these tracks in one shot on a whim one particular day, or they’d be totally down with having bootlegs of the comic Gallagher playing on an interminable loop in their iPods. (0/10)

Ride for Revenge’s The King of Snakes is the epitome of individuality, morbidity, and uniqueness; a crash course through the absolute essence of minimalism, an album that — in contrast to its alleged simplicity — is more profound and meaningful than initially leads on.

Ironically, The King of Snakes isn't even metal, per se; far from it, actually. It is practically a full-blown, twisted and dark shamanic ritual out of the pits of hell, played solely on what seem to be kettle drums (only to later discover this is actually a plain drum kit...); a pulsating , rhythmic, echoing pulsing dark heart, incessantly beating, reverberating and mesmerizing.

The "music" is coupled with gurgling, ominous and obscure human vocals, citing and chanting in synchronicity with the repetitive, hypnotic pounding on the tight and dry leather of the drum and the accompanying cymbals that join in, in the background, like a bastard, unwanted child; like a leech, painting the dark scene darker still.

Somewhere in the distance, there is a faint hint of a bass guitar and an occasional minimalist key, but mostly is it the war drum — the sound of the occult, of the engulfing mystery of nature — and the rasping, half-chanting vocals.

As for a guitar; although one of the band's members has confessed as to the existence of an electric guitar (or any guitar for that matter), do not look for one — you will hear none. That is actually a good aspect of the recording; a guitar would have ruined the ritualistic aura and the glorious minimalism Ride for Revenge have accomplished with this one-of-a-kind release.

If anything, The King of Snakes is above and beyond the mundane and associative meanings of the term "music." This is pure ambiance, an effort which is so singular, nothing sounds remotely like it. The King of Snakes says so much using so little; it brings us all down on our knees and makes us stare in awe at the gaping abyss; it strips down matter and shows us the elements, the atoms, both of the universe and of ouselves. (9.99/10)

Rome’s follow up to Berlin is a massive evolution of dark industrial folk. The improved balance between instrumentation and samples makes the project sound much darker than before, and there reigns a sublime coherence to these twelve divine lamentations.

Militaristic beats and astounding symphonic motifs interplay seamlessly with stark clips, acoustic guitar, and that Leonard Cohen-ey baritone voice we love so well.

Individual summaries won’t really do justice to this work, but the real gnarly standouts include "Der Wolfsmantel," with its heavy cello stomp and soundtrack-y incantation; "The Torture Detachment," a dark-as-hell love song with an air of impending holocaust; and the Mazzy Star-ish calmative "The Joys of Stealth." That’s just a taste of the light meat.

Rome’s finest work to date, with hopefully more to come along the same lines. (9/10)

Flesh for the Devil was originally released in 2005, but has been re-released in 2007 with new artwork through Pagan Records. Sathanas are moving towards the two-decade mark, having formed in 1988, in Pennsylvania. Despite the 20 years of existence, they only have five full-length albums to show for it — however, they've got a handful of EPs, and a few demos as well.

There are good and bad points to Flesh for the Devil. The band is extremely typical, and basically hold the concepts of any black metal band... On the good side, however, they don't rely on speed or extremely lo-fi production to convey their brutality. Instead, they play a blackened death metal style that almost fits into the old-school death metal genre of music. Another great quality is they're blasphemous enough to make an inverted necro moongoat run away in fear.

The EP doesn't seem to have been recorded with modern technology. The guitar tones sound dated, and the drum kit sounds like it was recorded with no editing or sound replacing afterwards. The screams are pretty fantastic, yet the actual music doesn't contain anything to really keep your interest. The title track is spontaneous, and seems to be the most original of all of the songs on this 22-minute EP. On the other hand, Sathanas seem to be sticking to their roots even in these modern times. If you're up for some classic sounding stuff, check this out. (6.5/10)

While I'm 100% against what Thee Plague of Gentlemen's vocalist went to jail for (child sexual abuse), and I consider it absolutely condemnable, his band was seriously amazing, psychotic, sludgy, deathy doom like no other band has produced so far. I'm quite sure that the first thing many fans thought was just where the "backing band" would go. Here's the answer: Serpent Cult. And they are not just a backing band, that's for sure.

Serpent Cult is an even more downtuned and technically death metal-influenced than Thee Plague of Gentlemen, but with some of the best metal female vocals on the whole eastern hemisphere... with much shorter songs. That means no just-fucking-around segments, but a more cohesive sound. Even without the traditional aspects of it, Trident nor Fire is song-based and quite good at it. Every riff is unique and well-crafted, every vocal line is different to the next one and even the drumming changes every so often.

From the 13th Sun Candlemass, Thee Plague of Gentlemen, Acid King, Crowbar and even early Black Sabbath fans will feel at home, as Serpent Cult mixes those influences and more into a punchy package of inhumanly heavy yet completely comedy-free approach to sludge. And I mean old school sludge, with some more abstract riffs than the common but definitely not at all like Khanate. While quite raw, the production makes the guitar tone much heavier and the vocals caveman (or woman, actually) -like at times and calm some other times.

Come on, even if it sucked, (and trust me, it doesn't) it'd be awesome just for the Uriah Heep cover... easily one of the best covers ever done in a doom metal style. But nope, Trident nor Fire's own three songs are sweet stuff as well: full of heavy-as-shit, atonal riffs, catchy vocal lines, unorthodox songwriting and even incredible bass lines. You seriously haven't heard a sludge release like this one coming from a new band. Sure, it's really short, but you don't need much more than twenty minutes to know the band's good when just the first song already has you headbanging... although it certainly made me want more. (8.9/10)

In 2001, Sigh released Imaginary Sonicscape, which opened new doors to a strange kind of retro rock / black metal music with electronic elements as well. Mirai Kawashima, the most steady member of the group, is a collector of organs (the musical kind) that he used to incredible levels with both Imaginary Sonicscape, and in 2005, Gallow's Gallery. However, after being set to expect these elements from the latest Sigh album, Hangman's Hymn, they are — for the most part — vacant.

Instead, we are introduced to something different: programmed symphonic arrangements. The musical movements are as insane as we've come to expect from Sigh, especially when the symphonic arrangements come in, yet there are two distinct parts of Hangman's Hymn. There's the straight-forward rocking section that consists of many generic riffs. Then there's the heavy sections that follow orchestra that are so utterly smothered by them that you can barely tell what is being played.

Of course, we can't forget the majestic arrangements that flow in from time to time. On Imaginary Sonicscape, the end of the first song sets up a general theme that is repeated later. The same could be said about Hangman's Hymn, as the definitive arrangement of this album is repeated during the introduction of "Overture / Rex Tremendae / I Saw The World's End" and then furthermore on the title song "Hangman's Hymn / In Paradisium / Das Ende." As you can probably tell from those titles, Sigh also continues the tradition of ridiculously stacked songtitles.

You may interpret this analysis negatively, but if you had ever heard a Sigh album, these elements should excite you. For one thing, it's a good reversion from Gallow's Gallery, as the scream vocals are back, and the clean vocals are very sparse. Mirai also introduces some simply awesome falsetto vocals. Hangman's Hymn is epic, brutal, and creative in a sense that such dynamics aren't attempted very often, and probably couldn't be pulled off by other bands as adeptly.

Sure, the lack of the organs is sad, but Sigh makes up for the loss with gripping orchestrations and verses that are more brutal than the band has ever done. Hangman's Hymn is an ugly, hateful album, yet Sigh allows the occasional glimpse of light and triumph that should leave any listener satisfied. (9/10)

Just another snapshot: no year can pass by without a new SFU Album. Personally, I was not stunned by previous album, 13, and having heard Commandment a few times, I can neither say that this album equals the brutality as shown on 2003’s Bringer of Blood, which features greats like "Murdered in the Basement" and "When Skin turns Blue."

To find out which songs are the real classics is to go to an SFU concert, where a set will not be complete without "Revenge of the Zombie" or "No Warning Shot."

None of the songs on Commandment are bad; most are quite good, but it’s like getting drunk with a good old friend, and you forgive him that he’s telling you a joke he must’ve told you while you both were still in high school.

Albums compared: Far from suffering metal fatigue — SFU never seem to be idle in their output — I somehow suspect a certain routine weariness. Is it me, perhaps, or are the changes in their musical course really getting more, errr, subtle? At the first listen, Commandment does not sound very different to 13. But when comparing them more closely, Commandment does have a much clearer sound — it makes 13 sound muffled in comparison. Even more remarkable, it makes the drums on 13 sound as thumping on a membrane, not particulary helped by the predominance of Steve Swanson’s fuzzy guitar surgery. So, let’s hear it for the return of Greg Gall on drums (and a good job done by engineer Chris Caroll).

Another difference with the previous album is the tendency of unexpected changes in tempo, which I think is a welcome variation.

The funny thing is that in time, as each new album crawls like a maggot out of the body of the Six Feet Under corpse, there can be found many similarities with predecessors. Some new titles seem like mutated forms of older ones — a point showing that Six Feet Under do not only love decomposition, but regurgitating as well. The "corpses return to the surface to take over all life" scenario on "Doomsday" is like a lyrical variation on "The Day the Dead Walked" (from 2001’s True Carnage). Let’s have a short walk through this graveyard:

As opposed to the atmospherical intro on 13, this album starts pretty straightforward in mid-tempo with "Doomsday." Thou Shall Kill," the only song actually referring to the 10 Commandments, is another mid-tempo one with driving double bass drums, pretty much in the style of an oldie like "Victim of the Paranoid." "Zombie Executioner" has a slow intro, in the waltzing style of "Waiting for Decay" or "Torn to the Bone." "The Edge of the Hatchet" is a fast song starting in the style of "Revenge of the Zombie," then alternating with something groovy similar to the slow section of "Survival" (and once more I growl along silently: "You’ll never stop me... I’ll just kill again...").

Standout track "As the Blade Turns" has a very nice central riff and it’s destined to be a live favorite. It also features Six Feet Under’s newly found sense of ironical understatement judging from a line like: "Coroner had a difficult time determining cause of death."

"The Evil Eye" is a mid-tempo stomper, and it should please those yearning to hear them go back to songs in the style of their debut, Haunted. This one reminds me a lot of a classic like "Silent Violence," only less repetitive.

"In a Vacant Grave" comes again with a misleading opening riff, suggesting a simplicity very similar of "Revenge of the Zombie." But the funny thing here is the far less conventional rhythm scheme, where the emphasis is on mostly on the 1st/3rd beat. "Ghosts of the Undead" is another of those SFU songs with very simple yet incredibly catchy lead riffs. Note that it shares a striking resemblance with "The Poison Hand" from 13, but I’d prefer "Ghosts" hands down.

All in all, it’s more of the same, yet a little more refined, as far as that is possible with SFU. Some may think that there hasn’t been anything decent since 1999’s Maximum Violence, and that any new album just serves to annoy the dudes nagging on Blabbermouth even more. And that’s just how it is: you’ll never stop Six Feet Under, they’ll kill ‘til they’re dead. (6.6/10)

San Francisco's Sol Asunder are unsigned and produce their own albums. The music contains elements of death, thrash and black metal, and at certain instants, can be considered progressive.

The first track, "Beneath The Surface," begins by slowly yet forcefully hauling energy at the listener, whereas the second one, "The Element," does the opposite, piercing the sonar atmosphere with fast-paced guitars. While the style is closest to Gothenburg-like melodeath metal — hardly original — these boys do practice a heightened level of ardour in their music.

This being said, there are boring moments in the album, wherein the energy seems to just disappear, but they do make a good attempt at retaining it. Another fault that can be heard at times, is the perfunctory quality that the drums acquire.

"Horribly Human" has an interesting vocal part towards the end, during which the singer spits out tatters of brutishness. "Tragic" is rather mild, entailing a certain form of placidity. The final song starts at a somewhat breakneck pace, and propels into a calm emptiness.

Even though the music is not guaranteed to please all, the album has interesting parts. It deserves a listen or two. (6.6/10)

Sonata Arctica has never really been too flashy of a band. Sure, they've got the fast solos — both on guitar and keytar — but their rhythm and "background sections" have usually been pretty weak. Vocalist Tony Kakko usually layers a bunch of vocal harmonies into each verse and chorus, which is still true on the latest album, Unia, but they don't make too big of an impact this time around.

Unia is not as good as their previous album, Reckoning Night, but most bands tend to falter more and more with each album.

Although Sonata Arctica basically use the same vocal melodies and ideas from their previous album(s), there are some cool moments on Unia. For example, the semi-ballad "For the Sake of Revenge" is pretty nice, and has an addictive melody during the chorus. (note: Sonata Arctica released a live DVD / CD called For the Sake of Revenge, but the aforementioned song didn't make an appearance on that)

Fans probably won't be disappointed with Unia, but the straight forward lack of evolution is a bit unnerving... ridiculous! It's basically Reckoning Night, part 2.

A lot of people hate Sonata Arctica — but hating is fun. Some parts and songs on Unia are just too fun to hate, however. "It Won't Fade" sounds pretty epic in Sonata Arctica's triumphant style. Still, there are many uninteresting parts, and whole songs that are pretty darn boring, like "Under Your Tree." There seems to be a lot more ballad-type material than energetic, solo-stuffed power explosions. One of the most interesting aspects of the band has been the solo trading between the guitarist and keytarist, and that is extremely lacking on Unia. (6/10)

Anyone remember when horrible, trendy music magazines were hailing bands such as Shadow’s Fall as the new Metallica? I sure do; but what would happen if say, you replaced Shadow’s Fall with Sonic Syndicate, and replaced Metallica with In Flames or Trivium? Well, for one, many old school metalheads would laugh their collective asses off; whereas Metallica (in their thrash metal days) had a large level of originality and talent, Trivium took the twelve-tone scale and pooped on it.

What we have here with Sonic Syndicate is a band that dresses like a bunch of hardcore emos that probably feel good stealing Avenged Sevenfold’s look. As far as production goes, it’s pretty polished; the guitars are pretty strong in the mix, the drums not as much so; the bass is kind of nonexistent, and the vocals rest very well on top of it all. The keyboard plays an important part in spreading melody around the dual, crunching guitars, but it too is rather subdued, which is rather a big shame.

Breakdowns are abundant on Only Inhuman, and so are the typical chug-a-chug-chug verses that scream Atreyu. The two vocalists, who happen to sound exactly the same, tend to harmonize with the keyboards during choruses, but that ends up being the highlight of their abilities. The abundance of shouted and clean singing should have had more of an impact on the songs, but it’s just extremely generic stuff.

The bands former stuff may have had some melodic death metal elements in it (I’m going by hearsay right now), but there is definitely nothing truly "metal" about this. Sonic Syndicate is straight up mainstream mass produced metalcore — nothing more, nothing less; don’t expect this to be the epitome of perfection. (4/10)

Wow. Looking at Soulidium's packaging, you would never expect what you actually hear. I'm not even really sure there's much that can be said about this album.

Here I was thinking nu-metal is dead, but that's not what Soulidium believe, apparently. This is somewhere between later day Katatonia's atmosphere (without a doubt the only upside to this album) and American radio rock in the style of bands like Hinder and 10 Years.

Seriously, pass this one up. "Soulidium" is a stupid band name anyway. (2/10)

Ett Berg Av Fasa is the proof that not knowing enough music theory can be terribly detrimental to an album. Sure, it doesn't matter much when you're playing most traditional kinds of metal or ambient.

After all, death metal and thrash metal are built over horribly wrong phrases if you take classical counterpoint or harmony as reference (most harmony books will tell you that it's absolutely prohibited to use repeated fifth chords, for example). That doesn't mean that death metal or thrash metal is bad or good or whatever, as it's just one point of view, but it does matter when you obviously want to go by the old, (some might even call oppressive) rules.

And Ett Berg Av Fasa obviously wants to be a modern classical album with an ethereal, gothic sensibility, sometimes even neofolk, but when you want to compose classical music, you have to take some things into consideration, like the way the violin must harmonize with the piano or the way one melodic line blends with the next. And, while in some parts of this particular album it works perfectly, in some others there are some obvious incoherent choices.

Not to say that the album's bad, because it's certainly not. Conceptually, it's incredible, and atmospherically it can get really good in some parts. It's just that there are way too many bad choices and segments that interfere with the listening experience that should have been eliminated.

Sure, the vocals are incredible, the atmosphere is well-built enough to transport you places, sometimes, and the composition is not simple, but that's not enough to turn Ett Berg Av Fasa into a masterpiece. It could have been, but it's not. And it's sad, because every single vocal line is outstanding, both in preparation and in actual delivery. Even the themes the songs are based on are really good.

The problem comes in the arrangements and the way the compositions flow. Too often they are incoherent and even awkward for one to actually immerse into Stormfagel (sometimes lines don't even connect to the next one, so you're often lost and trying to figure out just how the change happened.)

So we're left with a definitely above average release, certainly good when compared to other attempts at the same thing, but also quite dubious in the way it's composed. A complete rework of the album with the same atmosphere would be an easy 9.9/10, but as it is, it's impossible not to notice its own flaws and limitations. Good, but obviously flawed. (6.1/10)

Susperia's fourth installment, Cut from Stone, is thrashy, powerful, and most importantly, melodic. The album doesn't stick to a certain genre per se; what it does do is mix a myriad of genres ranging from thrash, black, death, and (mostly) metalcore into a cohesive work that, although has its ups and downs, can definitely please a listener with a diverse palette.

As the album starts off, guitars take on a quite thrashy / metalcore stance while vocals are delivered in the mixed fashion of rough and rugged yells, and emotional clean singing. With the album starting in such a way, it would be typical to think that the rest of the disk may unfold in a similar matter — but it doesn’t. A quarter into Cut From Stone, the entire atmosphere shifts as the beginnings of what could be called a ballad begins to play (which happens to sound like a hybrid of Iced Earth and Type O Negative).

Relatively quickly, it becomes clear that Cut from Stone will not limit itself to the monotonous style many bands succumb to through their careers. The song dynamics shift as both guitars and drums pound forward in verses filled with animosity — comparable to the work on Susperia’s previous albums; yet all it takes is a split second to shift the emotion in a track from unmitigated aggression to a suave melody.

The actual instrumentation is superbly done; the most notable being the drumming. Tjodalv's skill in adapting various styles throughout each song is a real treat, especially when partnered with Athera's vigorous yet somber vocal lines and the beautifully crafted guitar passages created by Cyrus and Elvorn that drive each song forward. The production values fit the album very well, giving off a very surreal pigment to each track; the vocals take precedence over the other instruments, but the guitars, bass, and drums are still clearly audible.

Cut from Stone is a solid release that clearly shows a new level of emotional maturity from Susperia, and shouldn't be missed by those who don't mind stepping outside the realm of "pure" metal at all. (7/10)

Paradise Lost is by far Symphony X’s most high-energy, rip-roaring album yet. The American group’s approach to their latest power/prog metal masterpiece leans more on the "power" side, with the majority of the songs on hand being rockers.

This isn’t to say that Symphony X has neglected the instrumental flash that marked their previous successes. While fans that preferred the more complex arrangements of their previous successes might feel some nostalgia for the band’s back catalogue, the contrast for the way both approaches are done well gives the entire discography more diversity.

No concern is necessary for Symphony X losing its identity. The music is still metal presented in a grandiose, pompous way; it’s just that the songs are more relatively to the point and groovy. The focus is less on complexity, and more on the centrality of killer riffs. Thankfully, the leanings found on Symphony X’s previous album, The Odyssey, that some fans almost dared not to call Pantera-ish, have been avoided, for a more clean, yet still heavy and aggressive, approach.

But who wants to worry about which album sounds more proggy than another when Paradise Lost sounds this good? Since Symphony X’s The Odyssey, the band’s sound has been cranked up several notches. While the greatest difference in production from album to album is noted from the muddy-for-prog V to The Odyssey, the jump from The Odyssey to Paradise Lost is apparent. The production here kicks ass, which ideally complements the rockin’ energy of the album as a whole.

Singer Russell Allen really started running with his gritty voice on The Odyssey. That particular element in Allen’s repertoire is about as close as you can get to growling while still having a melodic delivery. It might have taken a little while for melodic, progressive metal-attuned ears more accustomed to cleaner, less raunchy vocals to get around the aesthetics of what Allen is doing, but close examination shows that the man does it exceedingly well... and it’s not an easy thing to do. On Paradise Lost, there is a better balance of cleaner melodic vocals, with the gravelly ones making more select appearances (mostly on the beginning of the album, where the most aggressive songs can be found).

Paradise Lost is probably not Symphony X’s best album, but it probably is their most fun one. It certainly is their best sounding album. Great riffs, superb segues that build excitement from part to part in the songs, excellent singing and top-notch execution deservedly make Symphony X one the biggest names in progressive metal. (9/10)

Prepare your finest brew. After being introduced to coffee metal by Dethklok, and alien metal by Strapping Young Lad (with their CD Alien) Devin Townsend has officially taken it to the next level, and has gone completely bonkers. Ziltoid the Omniscient makes his intentions perfectly clear with the introduction, "ZTO." He seeks our universe's ultimate cup of black coffee.

Ziltoid is so omniscient, if there were to be two omniscientses, he would be both as he states on "By Your Command." Despite being overly wacky with ridiculous lyrics and ideas, Townsend doesn't disappoint when it comes to writing fast, thrashing songs with plenty of early-era influences from his albums like Infinity and Ocean Machine. His guitar work isn't overly complicated, yet he uses plenty of effects, vocal layers, and the great Drumkit from Hell to make this one action-packed experience!

Songs like "Solar Winds" and "The Greys" show Devin's innate ability to write incredible rock / metal hybrid tracks with his nice, reverb-soaked clean voice. After being exposed as a nerd by Captain Spectacular in "Solar Winds," Townsend uses a simple yet incredibly effective guitar part to make the illusion of desolation that rises to a powerful climax with Townsend's layered, operatic vocal performance.

Ziltoid the Omniscient is a fun album from a guy who has learned not to take things too seriously, and is sure to become legendary. (8/10)

World Circus and the subsequent Think This (see review below) are, more than anything, valuable collector’s items, since both reissues are packed with band information, band members' monologues (or pseudo interviews), photos, lyrics, and amazingly vivid and original cover artwork (the old-school way of hand-painting).

Both releases also contain tons of bonus tracks, totaling in more than 70 minutes' playing time.

These two re-releases are an offering mostly for the fans (if there are any to begin with), a relic now excavated, polished and pushed back to whomever is interested.

So yes, it is cool indeed to let everyone have a chance to glimpse at the works of this classic thrash / speed band from the ‘80s. You absolutely do not hear this style of metal played today. I'll give you that.

However, this particular style is obsolete, to say the least. The years' wear and tear have worn the style, and now, what had once been regarded as a novelty — when thrash metal was booming, at times when this kind of music was considered "extreme" — leaves an impression of something whose heyday are long since gone.

Even your humble servant, who actually had been around and had been listening to metal in those times of innocence, has lost all interest in the style. You see, extreme metal is like a snowball; it gets more and more brutal, challenging and adventurous as time passes. Dwelling in the past is good for nostalgic purposes, but when you do so with metal (unless you listen strictly to one style throughout the years, completely detached from or completely ignoring music's evolution) you soon acknowledge a sense of desensitization; the extremes of yesterday are the jokes of today and the fallacies of tomorrow. Catch my drift?

So really, let's be honest here; Toxik sounds like a dead horse, at least where World Circus is concered. The high-pitched vocals could be withstood for a very short time, with their unbearable, mind-numbing, irritability-inducing skills. The guitars are so weak, one would have to wonder why it is even called THRASH metal, which is all based on the thrashing guitar sound in the first place. The drums are generic and the song writing is predictable and distinctive to the approach many a band of those times adopted.

I'm not even sure Displeased Records re-mastered, re-mixed or re-somethinged else the original recordings. That's maybe why the sound is a tad anachronistic, the production hollow and subdued.

This reviewer finds it very hard to sit through all those blessed 70-something minutes listening to the tracks that are not that different from each other, wondering while doing so, what was it he had found so fascinating in those bands (not all, not all; some are still his favorite and are enjoying an occasional spin in his record player, mind you).

I wouldn't know how to score an album that may (or may have not) been once regarded as a classic (whatever that means) a great piece, but now seems so misplaced and outdated, so estranged and yet maybe also so wrongly judged, as harsh as it is. (Anachronistic/10)

The second re-issue of Toxik's couple of offerings comes in the form of this 1989 vintage album of heavy metal meets speed metal (come on, it is too whiney and without real balls to be regarded as genuine thrash metal album, isn't it?) sees a change in line-up; a vocalist goes, another comes and still — the vocals section remains the weakest link in the not particularly strong chain better known as Toxik.

This time, the new edition is coupled with a less crowded booklet; still with amazing cover art (the same is also featured on the CD itself, which is cool); full song lyrics, some additional linear notes, and last but definitely not least — a much better, fuller and more "modern" production.

The CD itself is as usual packed up with almost 80 minutes of music, including bonus tracks in abundance, some of which are instrumental.

The bass guitar and drums are definitely not buried somewhere in the background; the guitar is much more dominant and charismatic than in the debut; the songs seems to have matured and have become more coherent and straight-forward; more power and heaviness on the expense of reduced complexity, maybe.

The overall style is more updated, as if the one-year gap between this — their sophomore album — and their debut, had allowed Toxik to perform some quantum leap that had transformed their aforementioned obsolete style into a new entity altogether — a style that can withstand the sands of time and become even relevant today, more or less.

I would recommend both World Circus and Think This strictly for fans and collectors of older bands' memorabilia, as I don't see how today's fans could genuinely enjoy Toxik's style. If anyone would like to hear half decent mellow heavy metal spiced up with rock n' roll and some speed metal, I would say, go for Think This. To everyone else I say: let bygones be bygones; sometimes it's better that way. (Let bygones be bygones/10)

Wow.

Transmission 0’s newest album, Memory of a Dream is absolutely stunning. Upon playing this, the listener is bombarded with droning guitar work that flogs the senses endlessly, while ephemeral synths spawn soundscapes that dissolve as readily as they were created.

The drums, like in most sludge, propel each song and give the guitars the perfect headroom to create odd rhythmic melodies that flow in and out of the intangible space that emanates from the synths. The vocals, although sparsely used, come in two distinct varieties; the foremost being the typical raw, full-throated yell, and the other a very mellow clean voice. In fact, the entire album is very mellifluous in its nature, which on its own may be why it sounds like a "laid back" version of other (similar) bands like Neurosis.

What Transmission 0 has created is a magnificent album that contains a great deal of depth that may not unfold its true nature to the casual listener; it’s probably best then to sit down, relax, and let Memory of a Dream wash over your senses to experience the full effects of this album. (8/10)

Aside from Warschau being a highly satisfactory live album from the essential, self-proclaimed "black metal war machine" Marduk, it offers some very interesting opportunities for fans to examine and debate, and presents new appreciation for the band in its various incarnations over the years.

Most specifically, we’re talking about how "new" Marduk (post-La Grande Danse Macabre) stacks up against "classic" Marduk (Heaven Shall Burn... When We Are Gathered to La Grande Danse Macabre).

While it’s true that Marduk has never been faster or fiercer with Emil Dragutinovic behind the drum kit, Warschau is evidence that Marduk’s was much tighter with Fredrik Andersson. Sure, songs like "Panzer Division Marduk" whip by in a relative blur compared to the original studio recording or the performance captured on Marduk’s definitive live album, Infernal Eternal, but the performance isn’t as solid, nor is it conveyed with as much conviction.

The same could be said for the entire band’s performance on Warschau. It’s a little on the sloppy side. This doesn’t detract from Warshau’s appeal, however, as this recording is rife with raw, fierce energy unique to Marduk’s discography, but you have to wonder how much Andersson and bassist B. War are missed. Just as you can see how much more solid Andersson was as a drummer, the same can be said about B. War’s bass performance, as well as his tone, which had more presence and command live and in the studio.

There is a lot to be said about the vocal performance on Warschau, both alone and in comparison. Mortuus is arguably the best vocalist the band has ever had, and his performance on this live album showcases his incredibly powerful and often frightening delivery. Whereas Legion will always be the most representative vocalist in the Marduk lexicon, his vocals were more choked and less powerful than his successor’s. However, the Legion songs on Warschau don’t sound as good with Mortuus singing them. But that might have something to do with their tightness.

Warschau’s 17 tracks feature very few of the classic selections from Nightwing and Panzer Division Marduk, which is a bit of a shame, but not really reproachable. However, the inclusion of perhaps the worst Marduk song ever, "Bleached Bones" (World Funeral), is kind of a head-scratcher.

Warschau is no live album like Infernal Eternal is, but why would you want the same thing all over again? If Infernal Eternal is Marduk playing in a stadium, Warschau is them playing in a mausoleum. Marduk fans will really dig this live disk, although the one with classic status is clear. It seems fitting, no? (8/10)

Double take. That’s some dorky weird timing that both Pig Destroyer and Darkest Hour release albums within a month of each other, featuring very similar artwork. Same pastel color scheme, motifs of bones, diseased women, and dessicated yet lovely vegetation. Look up the artist... yep, it’s the same guy: John Baizley.

Ok, then. It’s sort of ridiculous to compare albums by Pig Destroyer and Darkest Hour. The former’s a grind band, the latter one of the leaders in the metalcore movement whose main trick has seemed to be apeing At the Gates. But while the Pig Destroyer album has better art, the Darkest Hour one is a better album. Comparisons end there.

Deliver Us is a good piece of work. The album is clear and heavy, and it leaves room for the music to breathe. Clearly the best element of the music comes up during the solo sections, which are excellent. Melodic movements are presented with energy and drive, and are tasty in each of the songs where they appear. The riffs are merely good — nothing especially remarkable, but they move the songs along well and you won’t complain about the compositions. Within the riffs you can often find some neat fly-in harmonies or inventive counterbalance parts.

The thing that is really not good are the vocals. They’re not the worst, but they’re aggressively mediocre metalcore pukings, and they’re too loud considering. Also, Darkest hour isn’t making any secrets that they’re persisting in continuing to try to be At the Gates. Well, At the Gates hasn’t made any albums since 1994, have they?

Deliver Us’ songs are short and tight... very much like if they were composed for "radio" play. Right... like this kind of music has a prayer of showing up on Clearchannel. Why not make the songs a little more adventurous?

Deliver Us will give you 39 minutes of good, sometimes great heavy, aggressive music. If you love metalcore, you’ll be into it a lot. Just make sure you don’t accidentally get the Pig Destroyer album at the store. (6.9/10)

The new Iced Earth single unveils the first swallow off the band's forthcoming album, Framing Armageddon. No time is wasted as the song "Ten Thousand Strong" opens with a rhythmic assault and the wailing vocals of ex-Judas Priest's Tim Owens. The verses are galloping, the chorus is contagious, and the tightness and flow are remarkable, resulting in an effective power metal song — a strong appetizer for the new album, which is due out in September.

The parenthesis of the new album's title — "Something Wicked Part 1" — explains what happens next: a reworking of the band's "Something Wicked" trilogy (originally off the 1998 album Something Wicked This Way Comes, which is composed of the songs "Prophecy," "Birth of the Wicked," and "The Coming Curse" — the last three tracks from Something Wicked...), which is meant as a prelude to the band's future album-trilogy. All three songs have been completely re-recorded for this MCD.

Understandably, all eyes are set on Owens, who does a remarkable job in refreshing the original (already captivating) Barlow vocals, embracing the epic suite with his own harsh yet soaring vocal style. But that's not all, as the new version is different in its musical vision as well: it exhibits perfectly interlocking drums, bass and guitars and ends up sounding less melodic yet more brutal and rhythmical.

Aside from the snippet from the new album, Overture of the Wicked features a fine version of an Iced Earth classic, and since this version, to our understanding, will not be included in the future release, it is a good enough reason to pick up this single, even if you are amongst those who would normally wait patiently until the full album comes out. (8/10)

Four years after its release, Maelstrom was finally ready to review this Diego's Umbrella album. But seriously, and regardless of the band's peculiarity, I have no idea why it is only now that this album arrived at my doorstep (especially since it looks like the label, Minor Miracle Records, is no longer in business, which means this release is now defunct). Roberto (our editor) might shed some light on the issue. (Roberto says, "bleh?")

But to the point: Diego's Umbrella was possibly ahead of its time, and perhaps still is. Just when you think that every possible fusion of genres have been tried out, these San Francisco guys introduce their blend of Mexican, Latin, hip-hop, jazz and rock music. It's far from being a smooth integration, though: the opening Latin number soon makes way for a surf-rock song with a slight update of generic ‘60s songwriting, and only then a somewhat original and more nuanced breeze comes in the form of the Morricone-styled instrumental "Schorching Hot Schorcher 2." A record-scratching led song with a Cuban laid back chorus follows and leads to a hazy song that features a nice jazzy guitar.

The band doesn't take itself too seriously and incorporates a few expendable, silly passages into the half-hour album (e.g. "Borng Horker").

There are moments in which the band proves its unique voice (the aforementioned "Schorching Hot Schorcher 2," and the direct, Spanish guitar-dominated pop-rock song "32") and I guess people who are more affectionate than I am towards hip-hop and Latin music will have a better appreciation of this blend. Even so, more cohesiveness is certainly needed, and I'm curious to hear if the band made any progress with its 2006 release, Kung Fu Palace (look for our review three years from now!) (6/10)

While the other Einheit Produktionen bands always come across as charmingly underproduced, and even more likeable and personally appealing for that very reason, Trimonium's third album, Son of a Blizzard, shows why Pagan bands shouldn't spend six months in the studio. It kills the spontaneity and destroys any sense of natural feel.

Musically, Trimonium are a cross between later-day Immortal, Amon Amarth and, for some reason (mainly the guitar sound and riffs) Running Wild. The eight songs are played well, and feature some great and some not-so-great ideas. But it's a bit hard to make it through the entire Son of a Blizzard album because all the thrash / black racket sounds like listening to a MIDI file. The drums, too obviously triggered, too damn loud and too clickety-clear, seem to be playing one and the same thing although (maybe) they aren't.

The riffs, superbly audible, jump between up-tempo thrash and old-school black, yet all the changes come in too-regular intervals. Four bars of this, four bars of that, then eight bars of the third thing, then repeat. No straying away. The same goes for the vocals — most of the time it's four screamed syllables at the beginning of each bar. Perhaps understable because Teutonnic, the singer, also plays one of the two guitars, but not an excuse.

If it wasn't for the Pagan-themed lyrics (A note: while everything else is too clear, damned if you can read the lyrics from the booklet without a flashlight and a very close look) for most of the duration of the album it could have been any of the German Destruction clones from the ‘90s.

Trimonium are probably a great live band, but Son of a Blizzard should have been recorded in a garage or in a forest, in six hours. Since it's already done like this, try to find the worst pair of speakers or headphones you can, and it's going to surprise as being more enjoyable than it initially seems to be. (5/10)

Velvet Cacoon have had some serious troubles. Usually the band is regarded as one of the best around by reputation, and the abundance of supposed unreleased demos in existence keeps many a fanboy drooling at night. Then, when it was discovered that they had stolen not only songs, but entire demos from other artists, the shit really hit the fan. Now, here we are presented with a re-issue of what (I assume to be) Velvet Cacoon's own material, released about five years earlier.

Dextronaught is a re-mastered re-release of the 2002 album packed with a bonus CD of ambient tracks. Unfortunately, it seems that the band’s reputation really is all that it has, as Dextronaught is a very generic album that just doesn't go anywhere musically.

The ambient introduction isn't bad at all, as it brings to mind visualizations of a psychoactive experience that's probably talked about on Erowid.org. The initial hope would be that this would somehow foreshadow what was to come on track two ("Infinite Plateau"); this however is definitely not the case.

A muzzled production kicks in with very generic black metal guitars, the kind that old black metal musicians had because they had no other choice (due to shitty gear). Full of treble and reverb, the guitars set off on their journey to go absolutely nowhere. That is to say, each guitar track on each song is so repetitive that each riff sounds like its predecessor on the previous track. The drumming is equally boring as well, as it tends to stick with very simple beats that sound like they came right out of Fruity Loops. To top it all off, David the Gnome makes a guest appearance and starts doing black metal vocals; although this seems very odd, because I don't even think a gnome would be able to have a nasal rasp as high as the one produced by SGL.

The bonus ambient tracks are a nice addition, but they really sound like the same song. Each track kind of just drags on until it fades out, with no real direction. It doesn't make much sense to release these three tracks on a separate CD when all that really needed to be done was to include one of them on the normal disk (they're that similar).

To say that the minimalist approach to songwriting directly correlates to a substandard album is utterly foolish. However, if there were no examples to prove this otherwise, Dextronaught would surely become exhibit A. (5/10)

PS. If you like fuzzy black metal, check out Crebain or Xasthur.

Vital Remains, to many, are one of the best death metal acts around; and although the greatness of any of their previous works can be contested in a multitude of arbitrary ways, Icons of Evil has definitely slammed that final "nail into the coffin" of greatness.

The guitars soar with beautiful, neoclassical leads while maintaining perfect rhythmic harmony in the face of the ever pitiless drumming. The leads really highlight the intensity of the album as they interject bits and pieces of melody, while the psychodynamic drums carry the aggression in each song to new heights. The instrumentation on this album is absolutely flawless; the enmity felt here is matched only by the extreme monotony of Glen Benton’s vocals, which is really the only possible downfall of this album.

Benton, being "Glen motha’-fvcking Benton," has his voice very loud in the mix; and although this doesn’t dampen the aggression found on the disk, it certainly doesn’t do anything to help it. If only you could understand what he was saying! He sounds as if he’s just too tired to pronounce those satanic verses anymore. Lyrical delivery aside, his vocal abilities (like always) shine brighter when a higher register death rasp is used in conjunction with his groaning exhales; this differentiation adds a great deal to many of the songs which, otherwise, would have become quickly tiresome.

Aside from that minor discomfort, this is easily the best Vital Remains yet. The songs are fast, ferocious, and demonic in nature. Even better though, is that the band actually has slow moments. Sure, the slowest moments are still (comparing to other bands) blisteringly fast, but the minute changes actually help the entire album’s replayability by showing it is not one huge fast song — and seeing that the average song is about seven minutes, it helps greatly.

Vital Remains took a lot of time to craft this album (four years, in fact), and it shows. Icons of Evil itself could be the theme to the apocalypse, with beers and spears as high as the adversary himself could raise. The bonus Malmsteen cover is also exceedingly well done, which definitely gives this release a solid (9.3/10)

It's a fact: funeral doom lost most of its magic when recordings started being easier for the artists to make. Artists like Thergothon recorded their demos with something like $3 (and it sounded horrible, but that was probably the point), and they created masterpieces, but nowadays pretty much everyone and their mother can record a funeral doom album or take part in a doom band.

Now, I'm no black metal "kvlthead" or whatever, I like my production clean (or at least, punchy and aggressive, or all the opposite). I'm not saying that good recording ruined funeral doom, not at all, I'm just saying that since being able to record a funeral doom album is now in the reach of anyone, the results can be quite terrible, even comparable to the whole melodic death (or even metalcore) fiasco that has, thankfully, relatively stopped. It all comes from artists having everything done for them without resorting to logic.

If you use logic and record expensively, your sound's gonna be good, yeah, but if you don't, it still sounds good enough, so why bother? Or at least that's what Volition and a myriad of other bands seem to think. And it doesn't apply only to the production, it applies to the actual composition as well ("if I record something generic, it'll be cheap AND sound good, so why bother?")

While not terrible, Volition is an obvious example of all that. From the first riffs, the technical limitations are obvious: the left channel guitarist doesn't keep time with the right channel one (or vice versa). Yes, it's funeral doom and not shred, but you can't do that in the opening riff. You just can't. Or maybe you could do it if the riffs themselves were interesting, but they aren't. Hell, all of them are low grade riffs that Skepticism or Disembowelment would use as a random improvisation or even filler. The bass? It's just another guitar, some octaves lower. Keyboards? Nope. Effects? None at all. Well, something? Can't find anything at all.

But anyway, that's the point, Volition is low-grade funeral doom. I mean, it's not horrible, even if completely limited by their own technicality, or lack of it, but it's nothing you'd want to try unless you went to one of their gigs or something. They don't even try to add any new elements or anything at all. They are there, they play the cheapest kind of generic riffs and then fade away. Heavy stuff, sure, their vocals are actually quite good if you pay attention, but their music just can't keep up. Only at the end of the second track do we see something enjoyable with the whole feedback stuff, but it's too late; not many casual doom fans will stay awake for that. It's not a matter of not being good, it's a matter of not even trying. (3/10)

The decline of what is generally known as "metal" music sees the emergence and crowning of one of metal's many bastards, namely that particular sub-genre that needs many a definition in order to pigeonhole it, to tag it and give you, the readers, the immediate and superficial clue as to what we're talking about.

Now, Crucial Blast Records — a label I admire for its stupendous offerings — has come up with the term "brutal shoegazer" to describe Year of No Light's music captured on Nord.

I know, you're going to need to at least spend some time reading about "shoegazer music" on Wikipedia, like I did. You will learn all sorts of unnecessary facts about its origins, why it's called the way it is, which bands belonged to this scene before its downfall and in which year it was been born again.

But nothing will prepare you for Nord.

Year of No Light belongs to the unique clique of bands who had cracked the code of emotion and atmosphere — two main characteristics of genuine music — and picked it up from the exact same point where metal music had forgotten to do just that. Hence, slowly but surely overthrowing metal as the king of the underground, whereas its offspring — equipped with the impossibly long description along the lines of shoegazer / atmospheric hardcore / post-rock / post-metal / sludge / drone (or perhaps doomcore?) — is gaining more and more recognition and appreciation, and is seeing the materialization of bands that offer us newer musical dimensions we have not yet heard.

But still, nothing will prepare you for Nord.

Nord, Crucial Blast’s North American re-issue, is genuinely passionate music packed into an album that runs just short of an hour; an hour of pure joy, majesty, brooding landscapes and an oscillating spectrum of emotions. And it’ll appeal to your underground music-liking leanings.

Oceans of vibrating, distorted electric strings, so vibrant and joyous yet played with an underlying melancholy and utter disdain; the minimalist vocals sear through the gigantic waterfalls of ethereal sound, immaterial yet impenetrable harmonies upon harmonies of rhythms and chords and strumming and screams, seemingly so estranged to one another, but when played together they are synergistically combined into a marvelous, monolithic mammoth of beauty and darkness, generating mass reverence in the process.

Reverberating song openings using minimal piano lower keys slowly swell up and gain power and substance. When all the instruments are in accord with each other, it’s like black seeds whose blossom is thundering dark clouds that swirl and engulf you while picking up speed and power. Then, your senses are attacked equally by waves of dissonance and melody: an extreme dichotomy that's generating uneasiness, disorientation and yet such enormous pleasure that it’s easily among the greatest musical satisfactions a human can endure and experience.

Any soul who takes pleasure in unique assemblies such as Across Tundras, the French Overmars or the Neurosis clone-bands out there, take heed and seek this beyond-amazing album, now fortunately available in North America, hence for anyone, anywhere. (Amazing/10)

Wrong.

Because off to one side on a makeshift stage propped up on cinderblocks and creaky plywood is one of those kinda folky, vaguely rockin' ensembles so ubiquitous to coffee houses that it makes you wonder if these bands would even exist if the world's coffee market went belly up. And you wouldn't even mind so much, as they work through their sub-Eagles balladry and anemic Dashboard Confessional shadings, if you could just get the girl behind the counter with the belly button ring and starry eyes to move her attention away from the stage and, perhaps, take your damn order.

Then it veers from distracted to dire. The singer dismisses the rest of the band — for a coffee break, no less — pulls a chair front and center, then starts plucking away on an artfully scratched up Epiphone hollow-body as he dredges up a bunch of painfully sincere acoustic numbers chock full of lines like "I hope we're together when I'm 24 cuz I want to show you everything" that run so hard into the pale, scrawny arms of emo oversensitivity that it makes Morrissey look positively butch by comparison.

And your order is still stuck in a no-man's land somewhere between verbalized and poured. Try as you might to maintain faith, there's no chance in hell that cup is going to be sidling your way anytime soon, so your only recourse is to march up to the troubadour and make like John-Belushi in the toga party sequence in "Animal House," grab the guitar, reduce it to splinters and hand back the remains of the neck with its dangling strings, shrug your shoulders and utter a moderately sheepish "sorry" because he's probably not such bad a guy, just a bit misguided.

Yeah, most of us have been there. For those fortunate enough to have avoided such a scenario, listening to Minimalist & Anchored is... just... like... that. (3/10)

There is no other black metal band that puts forest worship so beautifully as Norway’s Ulver did. We’re talking about when the band was a proper black metal group, now. This is the period from 1995-1997 (right, they did some demos prior to that), spanning Bergtatt, Kveldssanger, and Nattens Madrigal — three of the most incredible black metal albums of all time.

This particular article is about the second of the three records. Kveldssanger, is, on one hand, an entirely acoustic album. The instrumentation is not particularly diverse. The main players are acoustic guitars and voice, with some instances of violin, a track with very, very simple tom-tom percussion ("Ulvsblakk"), and a track of nothing but a solitary flute and wind ("Heiertets Bee"). The vocals, which are in Norwegian, are all clean and delivered in a chant-like style. Exquisite use of layering and harmony is applied, and gives Kveldssanger just as much of its appeal as does the delicate, beautiful classical-meets-folk instrumentation. On a few tracks, the only instrumentation is indeed voice, but if you don’t pay attention, you might notice its nakedness (so to speak) because of all the melodic layering going on.

But on the other hand, Kveldssanger is as black metal an album as they come. This is the magic trick that no band (except maybe Empyrium, on their non-synthesized, later albums) has ever managed to come close to — making a metal album with all the elements of metal apparently taken out... but having it still evoke so many of the same feelings a black metal album can. It’s ironic. Some of the music will evoke images of someone playing a wind-up music box for you ("Halling"). Others will make you marvel at how much you can do with the vocalization of "ahhh," like on "A cappella (Sielens Sang)" and "Ord." (sometimes it seems that 40 percent of the vocals are made of that singular sound.)

Listen to the three Ulver albums in a row, and although it’s certainly not the same sound — Nattens Madrigal, being the infamous one to have been "recorded at night in the woods," is the antithesis of Kveldssanger in it’s nails-on-a-chalkboard production, with Bergtatt being dead in the middle of the two — it’s the same vibe. It’s the forest worship. The albums convey the most lovely sense of the reverence of the grandest nature that the northernmost places on the globe can offer. There’s strength in being alone and at peace with nature. Now mix that with reverence for Scandinavian cultural heritage, and make a recording of it all that is dark, warm and relaxed... kind of like being in a cozy shack overlooking a Norwegian fjord... but the shack’s foundation is in the shape of a pentagram.