This release actually contains recordings by the band The Baskervilles, which has very little to do with Affinity — the late ‘60s, single album band to which it is credited. To assume this accreditation was done for commercial reasons would not be groundless, which might also explain the artwork which is just a pale take of the original Affinity album artwork.

The repertoire offered here is composed of standard, cover versions of the era's familiar tunes ("She's Not There," "Mr. Tambourine Man," "Day Tripper," and "Get Off My Cloud" are but a few examples) played by the aforementioned college band (actually a University band) live at a '65 Christmas Ball and at rehearsals.

The sound is decent, but there are no hints of the jazzy, proto prog Affinity played, and that's quite understandable given that the only member common to both bands is Mo Foster (who played drums for The Baskervilles and bass for Affinity), and that there was another incarnation on the way to Affinity (Ice, its recordings also available from Angel Air, and were reviewed in issue #32).

With a nostalgia factor so negligible (unless you're a relative of the band), this release is doubtful, and one should be more content listening to The Beatles, The Rolling Stones or any other major ‘60s act. (2.5/10)

Originally released in 1970, Women and Children First is the rare, sole album by Ancient Grease (actually a moniker for a Welsh band named Strawberry Dust), seeing its first proper CD release. The band, featuring future Racing Cars key members Morty and Graham Williams, was embraced by John Weathers (at the time drummer for Eyes of Blues but more familiar for his later duties as a Gentle Giant member), who produced the album and supplied much of the material.

The album opens with two basic yet fluent blues rock numbers: Hints of The Doors can be found on "Freedom Train," which also ends with Little Richard inspired wails, while "Don’t Want" borrows early Led Zeppelin as well as the guitar wizardry of Hendrix.

A more distinctive voice soon emerges with the reflective ballad "Odd Song," which is entwined with keyboards ranging from dramatic to playful. The following material blends proto prog, blues rock and psychedelia, influenced by a wide scope of ‘60s bands (or in other words, reflecting its time and era), such as the original (MK1) Deep Purple (check out the majestic vibe of "Eagle Song" and the driving organ playing on the title track) and Cream (the vigorous "Mother Grease the Cat" and "Prelude to a Blind Man").

Morty Williams is an expressive, passionate vocalist, and Graham Williams is a guitarist who never seem to run out of ideas, freshening even the weariest chord patterns. Racing Cars fans should, therefore, jump at the opportunity to listen to both in this raw, looser and bluesier setting. The ardent bass (by one Jack Bass) keeps pounding to Graham Williams' tasty licks, escorting him perfectly when needed while at other times picking up the riffs from Williams, allowing the guitarist to burst with fast, searing solos. (8/10)

Russian Circles’ Station is a great example of how to do an instrumental rock / post-rock album right: make the music have a voice all its own, with superb tension/release movements that go from a tender, flavorful mood to crushing, driving sections. Russian Circles marries ethereal, atmospheric elements with fist-pumping heavy sections with great skill, maintaining elements of both throughout Circles’ entirety.

The music is all brought to life with marvelous instrument tones, from the warm, rich bass, to the meaty, shimmeringly heavy guitars, to the organic, thumping, crisp drums, to the occasional use of lulling organ-like keyboards. Not for a single moment on Station will you think, "cool, but it would be so much better with vocals." Circles is a gorgeous recording featuring engaging music that gets better each time. (8.5/10)

Ansur’s debut, Warring Factions, was an astonishing album that showcased warpspeed development from their fairly run-of-the mill black metal demo, Carved in Flesh.

Ansur’s second full-length, Axiom, is a very glood blend of ingredients from both technical black metal and classic progressive rock. One of the very impressive aspects is that the members of Ansur are still incredibly young, yet gifted with songwriting skills and with a musical ability that many of their peers could marvel at. Warring Factions is an album that sees these young men move away even farther from black metal and venture deeper into the terrain of the progressive and experimental. In that sense, Warring Factions has become a far less grim and cold album. This is also partly due to the vocals of Espen A.R. Aulie, which are no longer distorted or compressed.

The atmospherical difference between this album and its predecessor is that of the notion of impending doom and destruction (Axiom) and the image of constructing a complex kind of post-apocalyptic machinery with various cogs and levers scattered around. The erstwhile hermetic hostility has opened up and now gives entrance to a chaotic working ground where the listener feels familiar in places, but also being pulled at from different directions. It’s not hard to get dumbstruck when being immersed in this musical maelstrom. "The Tunguska Incident," for instance, is a song that begins in a style that fits effortlessly next to anything from Axiom, but four minutes into the song a surprise (or horror to some) awaits as a tenor saxophone solo drops in, backed by the lush warm sounds of a Hammond organ: WTF?!

Surely these elements will put certain people off, but even as bold as those unorthodox elements may be, they are indicative for a more earthly kind of Ansur trying to break free from genre defining and limiting conventions... they have way more tricks up their sleeve. Certainly, some listeners will find their toes curling at five minutes into "An Excercise in Depth of Field" when Torstein is pulling it off a bit with some guitar twangling in a provocative C&W style. You’d either skip the track here or replace the disc for something more safe, or you’ll endure the provocation and be treated to more sonic intricacy in the three remaining chapters, including the massive "Prime Warring Eschatologist," the second song more than 12 minutes in length.

The storyline about two different factions goes further where Axiom ended. On one hand, there is the self-proclaimed "Desert Messiah," also known as Phobos, and his followers, the Originators. On the other hand there are the Zealots, who are practically atheists and oppose Phobos until death follows. Their leader is simply called "The General." The Originators own a mysterious and fearsome weapon called a Cloudscraper. The use of this weapon is connected to an event that actually took place in a remote area in Siberia in 1907, when an enormous explosion occurred with a magnitude of somewhere between 10 or 15 Megatons (about 1000 times more powerful than "Hiroshima"). The story tells that the Originators were behind this, and as a consequence, the battle is one about who remains in control of the weapon and thus of absolute power.

Warring Factions demonstrates Ansur’s ability to create a varied patchwork while still retaining their own signature on it. Aside from such hard-to-fathom moments it goes to show that Ansur are looking for an approach combining complex structures with eloquent melodies. It is not a big secret that Ansur have been inspired by works of classic bands like Rush, Yes and Pink Floyd. You might even hear a certain stylistic influence of Steve Howe’s. Often, the guitar parts are cubistic and ridllesome, but on several occassions there are screaming solos in a very old-fashioned heavy rock tradition.

Although when listening to Warring Factions, it seems Ansur might have tried to pull too many rabbits out of their hat, it’s an album that is very imaginative and rich in ideas. It’s beautifully mastered by Peter in de Betou (Enslaved, Dimmu Borgir, Zyklon) and never gets dull or predictable, which is an accomplishment in itself. (8/10)

On Chained to the World, we find a more thrash-oriented Heavy Lord and less of that sludge meets stoner amalgamation refined to almost perfection on the debut, From Cosmos to Chaos. Almost gone are the moody and muddy doom-like passages; instead, Heavy Lord has incorporated a sort of angry and hateful melodic approach most evident in atmospheric hardcore or post hardcore bands (Neurosis and its many offspring, so-to-speak).

Incessant crunchy guitars and fat, filthy bass lines hammer your skull and peel your skin; coupled with the massive yet Neanderthal drum work — the rhythm section is all you need to hear in order to bang your head to hell and back. The semi-clear, angry-as-fuck vocals antagonize and clash with the happy tunes and infuse them with misery and despair.

Heavy Lord are talented musicians and have that "total" and perfectionist approach to their art, hence they do what they do top-notch without leaving loose ends. No matter what stylistic expression they might think of and are cornered (or pigeonholed) in, their conviction, brutality and finesse (all in the same breath), are the qualities that separate their excellence from the grey mediocrity all around us. Any real metal fan, should they be into stoner, sludge, doom or thrash metal, remember: this is metal, if there ever was one; melodic, heavy, enthusiastic, and fucking beautiful! (8.5/10)

It seems that the spastic, high-energy days of Guapo’s Great Sage, Equal of Heaven are far behind. Guapo’s latest album, Elixirs, is a stellar collage of various languid and slightly disquieting themes.

The first track is a gorgeous yet not a little bit sinister movement of violins, bell tones, and slow drumming and cymbal wash. The violins sometimes take on a horn-like quality in their searing wails. Despite these aggressive descriptions, the mood is kept low-key not only via the compositions, but also though Elixirs expert sound production, which has a slight retro prog vibe, but mixed with a thick, reverberant, dark tone you might hear in a classic Italian horror film.

Track two is more playful and up-tempo, trading the slow and drawling unease for a dark, sinister carnival-like theme. Guapo’s older penchant for busy, odd-time phrases returns. The crisp, reverberant darkness is again greatly accentuated by the crisp, echoing reverberance that sounds like it has a layer of dirt on it. The carnival gives way to marching ambience and transitions well to the third track, a much more laid-back piece with simple male vocals — a fine inclusion of a definitively human element.

Track four is the second of the "Twisted Stems" pair of songs, and the going gets weirder as a woman takes the place of the man on vocals, and rattling chains take the place of the odd sound of a dog being scratched on a record player. This is certainly Elixirs’ most troubling piece.

The penultimate track, "The Planks," is the record’s most upbeat and playful tune, which provides a fine segue to the closer, "King Lindorm," which reverts to a more somber and pensive mood.

Elixirs is an arty, post-rock / prog album. Much of its vibe will probably appeal to fans of Amber Asylum, although Guapo can get much busier. The album is sinister, yes, but not in an over-the-top way. It can be enjoyed in a relaxing manner as well as creeping you the fuck out. (8/10)

Kauan is a Russian band that uses both moniker, song titles and lyrics in Finnish — strange but not unwelcome. It's not as if it would have made a lot more sense had they used English for its lyrical delivery.

Unfortunarely, not much happens on Lumikuuro in terms of originality. Kauan strongly echoes the works of Yearning (With Tragedies Adorned), Lacrimosa (Inferno) and even that of Dawn of Dreams (Amber; and even that particular album, released in 1996, was already extremely derivative twelve years ago) in such a blatant way, one can only wonder — and ponder on this ever-bemusing and discouraging concept: originality.

Black metal distinctive rasps, gentle and dominant electric piano interludes, some howling — at times silky and soothing — both female and male vocals and slow-paced melodies in general; you've been there all too many times. So have I.

Had I listened to this album, say, 10 years ago, 15 maybe, I would have loved it. It is beautiful in its tranquil, semi-melancholic way, but the fact it offers nothing in terms of singularity, originality and challenging listening experience, I would not recommend it to the underground veterans among you. However, if you are purveyors of the musical expressions that walk on that fine seam between darkwave, melodic black metal and Gothic rock with hints of folk music (a beautiful flute, or flute-like synth and the sparse clean singing), you may want to check it out.

The bottom line? Not bad, but neither too engaging. (5.5/10)

Arsis has been a bit of a darling around here since their first album, A Celebration of Guilt. The album was a thrilling combination of technicality and melody, presented in a way that brimmed with excitement and unbridled energy.

Since then, unfortunately, the output has been less inspired, dwindling down to the entirely ho-hum third release, United in Regret. Well, Arsis is on Nuclear Blast now... maybe that new lease on life and career will breathe some new inspiration.

Except not. We Are the Nightmare might have a bit more energy than United in Regret, but the album is very dull. We Are the Nightmare is an album that, if listened to in 10 second segments, will impress the metal fan with vibrant and flashy compositions. However, these compositions never add up to more than a hodge-podge of parts on any of the songs on this album. Simply put, the songs are terrible and lack noticeable creativity. What’s more glaring is that Arsis has obviously taken a page or two from Necrophagist’s fakebook and used that to replace some of their own originality.

Another great detriment to Arsis’ cause is We Are the Nightmare’s sound. It errs on the side of clarity, but sacrifices heaviness and depth. Sure, you can hear everything better than on A Celebration of Guilt, but so what? The toms sound fake, and there isn’t as much presence and vibe on the guitars and bass. The new album just doesn’t breathe like on Arsis’ finest hour.

Arsis’ musicianship is totally great. But who on a major metal label doesn’t have great musicianship these days... especially with studio magic? No, what’s more important, now more than ever, is the music and the songs. Arsis hasn’t got ‘em here. We Are the Nightmare is good for about one spin to get a thrill from some of the flash, but no more. Meanwhile, this review’s completion has been delayed about 20 minutes as A Celebration of Guilt is playing and generally rocking my world. (5/10)

Here’s a massive and slightly disturbing mutation of Type O Negative industro peppered with a nice Samhain / Burzum drone. Verdunkeln are a duo from the German realm of Aachen, and if their music is any indication of their provincial surroundings, I expect that place has the recreational appeal of a stuck elevator with bad lighting.

Verdunkeln’s music seethes with such a nasty, doomed-out, black haze, I got sucked in pretty quickly. Cavernous reverb and nasty black riffing give the illusion of some mean goblin warmarch — indeed there is a much more "martial" feel to this CD than most black metal you’ll hear. My severely limited knowledge of German prohibits me from relaying any of this lyrical content, but the upside-down cross logo and waterlogged demon on the cover indicate that we’re not going to hear anything positive about Yahweh.

The album sounds more black metal and less Type O as the songs progress (in style only — the sound remains very chorus-ed throughout, almost akin to a necro Cocteau Twins), and any unit that can hold this level of dirge for an entire album gets my vote. However, the lack of shift to second gear is a major wane on the interest. This just melds together and sounds like a sixty-three minute song. Just know what to expect when you’re waiting for rescue in the dark. (6.33/10)

There’s nothing remarkable about the faith-driven King’s X. The trio’s songs are structured in the traditional fashion of verse-meets-chorus, and the execution doesn’t really makes you go "wow!" (but then again, perhaps it’s just because the band members are humble — pun intended). Still, the songs leave an impression and that counts!

The playing on XV is less funky than on the trio’s early ‘90s material. Ty Tabor’s guitar is cranked up, functioning less as lead guitar and with less of the clean metal esthetic it used to, which results in a grungier sound. As a result, the gospel ingredient is more noticeable here (take "Alright," for instance), complementing the memorable, heavy rock songs and giving them a distinguishing color.

The lyrics are honest and fun, carrying optimism but also preaching ("Stop acting so crazy, living way beyond your needs" on "Broke"). In the band’s defence, the preaching is kept in good taste, as the band, cleverly enough, chose to open the album with the slightly cynical "Pray," serving to shows that band knows its place and doesn’t consider itself better than the listener. (6.5/10)

From time to time, bands fool around with the listener, writing songs and making them jerk around, making them twist and making them vibrate constantly without some big orgasmic payoff at the end, or in the middle, or right away. When this happens, the music stops being enjoyable and starts being very frustrating — it becomes a kind of complicated rock that is alright for the first time but after you’ll never put it on again. This sucks, especially if you paid good money for it.

From time to time, bands fool around with the listener, channeling songs and making them distorted, making them dense, making them sound a million miles away, with no structure whatsoever, not in the middle, or the beginning, or the end. When this happens, the music stops being enjoyable and starts being very frustrating — it becomes this kind of distant headache that is alright for the first time but after you’ll never put it on again. This sucks, even if you downloaded it off some obscure personal homepage.

Lebanon, from Israel, are situated perfectly in the middle of the above two extremes. They showcase a number of different moods and atmospheres throughout Planet Rubble, but never do they jump into extreme territory, and after all is said and done, the album ends up being enjoyable and comfortable.

Their songs are at times complicated, but when they are, there is a relief, a melodic hook, a harmonic riff. Their songs are at times a little distant, going nowhere for awhile, but then some drums kick in, some structure is put down, and it stops being difficult to listen to. The record does not catch you immediately; it takes a little while to get used to this balance. A song starts off too slow, and refuses to pick up speed. Another rocks out hard but the melodic payoff is not very evident. But after a couple of songs the moods and atmospheres fall into place and it becomes easier to ease up and enjoy what Lebanon is pulling off.

This is not high-strung math rock, but it’s not laid-back guitar doodling either: this is a solid album that has a few surprises, has a few moments that make you go "yeah!" and altogether makes you feel glad after you put down some hard earned cash for it. (7/10)

Original Dream Theater frontman Charlie Dominici makes one album with that band in the late ‘80s, and then waits the equivalent of a million years to continue making prog metal albums. So be it.

Real or imagined, his eponymous band’s 03 a Trilogy Part 3 will have shades of Dream Theater’s flair. Thankfully, Dominici (the band) will no doubt provide some balm for all those Dream Theater fans who gripe about that group’s more recent forays into more simple music and songwriting — Dominici is aggressive, progressive metal the whole way. The band that Charlie Dominici has got backing him up play very well, and the record makes them sound great.

Ironically, the least good part about 03 is the singing. Dominici, the man, sings acceptably well, but his vocal parts are bland and simplistic. In contrast with the music, the latter comes across as dynamic and bright, but the vocals go along in a way that seems to lack inspiration. While 03 has the instrumental spark to get some adrenalin going, the album ultimately becomes of only tepid lasting value because of the lack of vocal hooks. (5.5/10)

In order to fully appreciate and comprehend Earth's latest album here are a couple of sentences about the album's title:

The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull refers to a biblical story about Samson who had fought a lion and killed it bare-handed. Some time later, when returning to the lion's carcass, he had discovered a bee hive had been established in the lion's skull, full with honey. Samson then scooped some honey out and ate it, pleasured by its ultimate sweetness. The story had a moral: there are good things generated out of bad experiences. This is really the ultimate dichotomy; a blessing in disguise, as is this album.

The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull is pure class from start to finish. It is also a highly addictive recording; evidence for that? I've been hitting the play button again and again for God knows how many times, and in Earth's case – too much is never enough.

Highly intelligent in the construction of melodies, mature, somber and divine, Earth does, wordlessly, what no other band has ever done: take classic American country music and actually making it interesting and dark and addictive — jazzy, fuzzed-out and hazy, almost hallucogenic, torturously slow and peculiarly melodic, Earth has apparently abandoned its famous drone-fest and walls of impenetrable guitars and has crafted a thoughtful, profound and highly intelligent dark country music, which is as vast as the blue and empty skies above the summer desert.

Wordless and explicitly instrumental, empty but so full, retarded but by far surpassing anything out there, progressive yet in many ways primitive and down to earth, this ultimate juxtaposition of old and new, past and future, biblical themes and the everyday grind is what makes, in the end, this wonderful recording a piece, a monument, for the human struggle; humane / inhumane, life itself.

Cyclical and repetitive, slightly drone-ish, rustic but also a refined expression of hardship, of decadence, Earth's expression of the meat-and-potatoes of everyday living and a crazy world using apocalyptic guitar strumming, basic but powerful drum beats and an allusive keys (or the intoxicated piano) is as effective as it gets. The listener instantly drowns into the warm sounds of death and crumbling, of utter exhaustion, and relating is the easiest of tasks. When listening to Earth it is like coming home, like sitting on a filthy, dusty, ever-so-familiar sofa.

This is a masterpiece, no less. Imagine almost an hour of bewitchment, without a single word… then stop imagining and pick up this gem. (9.9/10)

Lair of the Minotaur’s music is heavy, bludgeoning, dirty, raw and powerful. Their style is equal parts Celtic Frost, doom metal, and old hardcore. Their simple and effective formula revolves around getting big, filthy, earthy, crushing sounds from their instruments and playing massive and fist-pumping music with them.

Like all of Lair of the Minotaur’s albums, War Metal Battle Master is best played loud, so the big chunks of metal that fly at your head can best be appreciated. There is nothing complicated about what this band does, and that’s what makes them so good. (7.5/10)

The artwork and packaging for Ashen Reign’s Immortality is so well done and professional, you’d think the album came out on the front-running Sensory label.

But throw the CD in a player, and the first thing you’ll wonder is why the dude single-handedly responsible for this release blew his wad on art and not on recording.

Immortality begins like some albums or songs do that kick you in the gut by lulling you into a false sense of lo-fi-ness via a thin / mono / single track presentation of the first riff, then turns the sound to normal and you raise the horns. Any metal fan has got at least 10 albums with this trick. It works... except when the entire record sounds like you’re waiting to be kicked in the gut, which is the case on Immortality.

It’s unclear which is worse, the horrific drum machine that plods on in as simplistic a way possible, or the terrible singing that is not at all helped by whatever effects are used on the album. Or maybe it’s the pedestrian riffs and song structures. Or the cliched themes and lyrics. Or the general sense of squirming discomfort that listening to this album causes. No, it’s the sense that the dedicated metalhead who made this album is either too wrapped up with his sense of grandiose creation to compare it to other albums being released, or whose only exposure to metal is Megadeth’s Killing is My Business... and Business is Good!

The only member of Ashen Reign, Brent McDaniel, has some definite talent and chops in the guitar department — more specifically, in the shred like a metal god way — but that doesn’t make for great performances in other areas, nor does it make for great songs. As it is, Immortality is a collection of hum-drum musical movements that eventually attempt to crescendo into a shredfest that never really takes hold not only because of the constructions but because of the sonic presentation.

Immortality is another example of the benefit of forming a band. Ashen Reign, like numerous other vanity projects like this that have crossed our review path over the years, would do well to get some other creative minds and musicians in the fold. Or better yet, McDaniel could join another band. There are plenty out there that would love to have a guitarist that could shred like this, but whose ego and creative ideas could be harnessed to make a product that won’t be torn to ribbons. (1/10)

This is the most original and exciting thrash metal since Whiplash’s Power and Pain, which came out over twenty years ago. Audiopain hails from Oslo, Norway, and just blows the skin off of me (despite their slightly unfortunate moniker). This is some avowed, no-frills, long hair blurring, beer-in-hand, old-school thrash metal. It’s so great to come upon something that reminds you of what hooked you on metal in the first place.

My only problem with the CD is that it’s over too damn fast! But if you’ve got the CD on loop, it can start all over again and be none the worse for it. That’s only PART of what makes it rule so hard.

From proto-Motorhead opener "Hellbound," to the even more crossover sounding "Cobra Dance," this band immerses you in a fugue state.

Audiopain maintain incessant momentum for all six tracks on this release, from trill to trill. Hyperactive pummeling rules on title track "The Switch to Turn off Mankind," and the math blues groove on "Termination Fields" is the slam dunk of 2008.

Samples and information on Audiopain are relatively sparse online, so you’re just going to have to trust momma on this — The Switch to Turn Off Mankind has such a Kill ‘Em All-iness to it, it’s never really over. (9.5/10)

Fans of Deathspell Omega, take notice. Here we have what could be an American answer to their thundering and utterly chaotic masterwork, Kenose.

To illustrate, Averse Sefira have toured with 1349 and opened the stage for Emperor. This is their fourth full-length, and it was produced by Tore Stjerna, who has also done work for Watain and In Battle. This trio from Texas have created "a monster that will flay flesh from bones." Here’s some origin about that monster:

"In the Q'uaballah there are twenty angels emanating out of the right and left hand of god. They are the Sefiroth. Sefira is the singular of this word, and an Averse Sefira would be one such of the unholy. We have taken these angels and extrapolated them as narrative vehicles for our tales of mythic irony."

The world of Averse Sefira is one of mystery and self-contained mysteries. No to be overlooked, one of obsession as well, similar to the way that Nile are obsessed with everything concerning old Egyptian mythology and mysteries. And when (true) obsession and black metal come together it’s time to brace yourself, for the ride will not be an easy one.

Riddlesome titles like "Viral Kinesis," "Cognition of Rebirth," (and by way of a superlative into the grotesque) "Retractions of an Unexploded Singularity" (a monster of a 9-minute song) are evidence of their fascination with hermetic mysticism. The music is ferocious and blastbeat ridden and fuelled with immensely abstract and stern streams of guitar frenzy.

In a way one could speak of black metal alchemy, because only by way of contemplative listening one might come to understand how Advent Parallax is meant to come across.

The fury is just the accessible part, but beyond that crawl profound messages drenched in malign theology. Advent Parallax feels like a blast of determination in a sea of apparent chaos, and for such a skill Averse Sefire are highly admirable. Unlike some examples of chaos for the sake of itself (by other bands), one may feel that Averse Sefira are proposing an answer or a description for the origin of evil. This may fail to reach rational understanding, but I’d suggest you to listen to Advent Parallax from beginning to end without distractions and you might end up agreeing that it’s a little masterpiece of oppressive perfection, able to put you in some state of trance.

However, some may find that most of the songs sound very similar to each other and that most of the riffs seem to be a uniform glorification of disharmony.

Standing out from the rest are the blacker-than-black opening riffs in the aforementioned "Refractions," and the remotely ear-accessible and final song, "Vomitorium Angelis."

These exceptions change little to the overall impression of an album that’s as heavy as pound of potato mash and gravy are for one’s stomach. Therefore it’s "proceed with caution" for most, but undoubtedly recommended to those daring to enter the foggy realms of mysticism.

Enter a delightful chaos. I rate them with sevens, for seven is known as the oldest spiritual equation. (7.77/10)

When dark/black ambient music is done correctly, it makes you feel uneasy, upset, horrified and sickly satisfied afterwards.

Sermons From the Unwelcome / Saturnine Malediction is a self-released solo effort from Christopher Mackinnon. The hour-long journey into hell freezes you in your tracks and scares you witless. If this is your thing, you’ll love every single second of it.

You can proudly file this release alongside Kerovnian, Abruptum, Aghast and Emit. (9/10)

While listening to Mutilated Earth for the first time, you have to take into consideration that this is the first album that these Frenchmen from Bordeaux have recorded. For a first release, the sound is above average and aside from some faults, the production values are decent. At times, however, there just isn’t enough oomph in the songs.

Breakdust gathers its influence mostly from thrash, as well as tidbits of other genres that are interlaced into the songs. There are some nice guitar riffs and solos here and there, as well as melodic patterns that have a certain level of appeal. "The Malignant," for instance, has the musicians churning a train of melodies until the point of explosion. "Bitter Prayer" is somewhat more emotionally charged and has a pleasant progression.

The vocals sometimes evoke old-school Sepultura, although the singer sometimes goes astray. One of the biggest disappointments is the drum sound. It sounds too subtle and distant. (6/10)

Surely, you must be aware of the stories about the Cavalera borthers that have been piling up over the years, be it the Sepultura days or the post-Sepultura era that had recently come to a Cavalera end after drummer Igor left the band. After all that, the brothers have decided to pair up and make some music. Also featured on the record is Gojira’s guitarist Joe Duplantier, who plays the bass, and Soulfly’s Marc Rizzo on guitars.

The record got a significant amount of hype, as people expected a compound of Sepultura, Soulfly and the multitude other musical fields that the brothers seem to be interested in. The sound borders on the line between thrash and hardcore, and contains recognizable elements of both Igor and Max. One thing that’s for sure is that these motherfuckers have groove.

The tracks on Inflikted show the experiments with melody and sinewy discourse. "Terrorize" shoots bullets into the atmosphere and then runs away and hides in the shadow waiting for the enemy to step out and touch the reality of the political message. "Black Ark" begins with a tribal note, reminding one of the Brazilian roots of the Cavaleras. "Bloodbrawl" spits and writhes in a violent rage, as the guitars smash fists in melodic butchery. "Nevertrust" teaches us to be cynical, as Max pours his lungs out and Rizzo rips apart everything with his lethal thrashy riffs. "Hearts of Darkness" is one of the fantastically groovy songs on the record, full of chunky guitars and speediness.

The sometimes unexpected "mechanical" side of the drumming adds an undesired element to the music, especially considering the fact that Igor is not known for having a mechanical sound. Fortunately, this does not happen in each and every song. On the other hand, this project is meant to be an experiment and a new beginning for the brothers, so using different things is good.

Inflikted may contain less of the organic aspect of the Cavaleras, keeping the early Sepultura history in mind, but it still manages to project an aura of intensity. The hardcore side of the music adds a certain "modernity" to the Cavalera Conspiracy.

If you were expecting a new Sepultura or a second Soulfly… tough shit, because you aren’t going to get it. Instead, you will get a rifle pushed down your throat and your guts kicked out of you. You will lie down in a pile of bones and crushed organs on the ground, enjoying the groove of the Cavalera Conspiracy. (7.5/10)

Darkest Era’s style lies somewhere in the heavy metal doom vein. It’s often rather fast to be what most conceive as doom, but it’s plenty heavy and carries a similar vibe.

Aside from the obvious compositional quality, what makes The Journey Through Damnation so likeable is that it sounds like actual human beings playing actual songs. Not that Darkest Era are sloppy, but you can hear the humanity in their performances, and that’s a good thing here. From the vocals to the instrumentation, Darkest Era did not seem overly concerned in mis-representing themselves as the band that they are.

The vocals are all clean and melodic. The singer has a fine hold in his role, and hits some stirring notes. The percussive element offers good texture within the music, and the guitars and bass keep things moving along in a fairly epic, head-nodding way.

Think Doomsword, but more up-tempo, or even Solstice, but less epic and Celtic, and you’ve got a good idea where Darkest Era is. Totally ignore the terrible cover art and look into getting this four-track MCD. (7.5/10)

If you care about Cryptopsy and the tech death scene in general, you probably have heard all about the band’s new elements, like having more simple, groovy parts, and the vocals.

Ok, Cryptopsy’s trying something new. That can’t be held against them. As artists, it is their right to explore different avenues of creativity if it means the desire to create is maintained. However, what Cryptopsy is trying on The Unspoken King with the clean vocals has not already been done by someone else... it’s been done by thousands of someone elses, and badly, in the form of emo-core pop-punk clean singing.

The instances of singing on The Unspoken King are so horrible that even though they aren’t on every song, your perception of the album will turn very, very sour as a result of them. It’s a shame, too, because Matt McGachy’s harsh parts are very well done, particularly if you prefer the Cryptopsy records with Mike DiSalvo on them.

The music isn’t as incessantly insane. This might not be such a bad thing, as when The Unspoken King is going well, there’s the impression that the songs and parts are more musically pleasing (as opposed to technically remarkable). The music is unmistakably Cryptopsy, and there are plenty of parts that fans will like. However, it’s the most telling of all that the parts that are signature Cryptopsy are much better than the parts that are Cryptopsy Nouveau. It’s a weird judgement to make. Cryptopsy is a superb group of musicians, and even on this album they make some superb music, but the bad overshadows the good, and by far.

As drum machines and drum programs get closer and closer to what an actual drummer sounds like — or, rather, to what a drummer playing drum triggers sounds like — you’d think drummers would be making strides in distinguishing themselves from the machines as much as possible... yes, there still is reason to have a human there in the recordings.

But not with The Unspoken King. You can read the interview in this issue detailing the great lengths that Cryptopsy went to make their actual drum recording sound like a triggered drum recording that sounds like an acoustic drum recording...

Cryptopsy’s most cherished and influential album remains None So Vile. Examine the sonic values therein, and contrast them to what you hear on The Unspoken King. Which is clearer and more precise... but which is better? Here’s a rating to catch this review’s drift. (4/10)

Look, fuckers, Cursed owns you. Matter of fact, not only do they own you, they own your mom, your mom’s girlfriend, your sister, your retarded half-brother, the father you haven’t seen in ten years and the puppy that you got for Xmas and don’t pay attention to any more because suddenly, one day, you realized that it was now a dog.

One other de facto point of interest, Cursed absolutely owns the hardcore scene; don’t even bother with your feeble arguments. And the capper? They’re barely a hardcore band at this juncture, if they ever were in the first place. Try rolling that marble around the shiny inner walls of your cranium and try to avoid a migraine.

It’s not so much that III expands on where their previous full length, Two, left off. No, instead the Cursed boys ceremoniously piss all over the rule book once again, re-shaping the visage of hardcore like so much lumpen clay waiting for someone to give it shape.

They can still fly off to the races, as raging tracks "Night Terrors" and "Dead Air at the Pulpit" amply demonstrate. But it’s the tone that stands out: both monochromatic and full, akin to being trapped in the blower of a muscle car with a 500 horsepower engine supercharged within an inch of implosion. And it works great when the tracks whip by at breakneck speed. Cursed’s party trick is their ability to take that paradigm and utilize it in other context(s). And they do that in the most reasonable way, by getting in touch with their inner sludge monster.

And then they close the damn thing with "Gutters," an illogically logical bit of sparseness; two guitars working simultaneously in concert and butting heads. It wouldn’t sound out of place on any of Earth’s recent albums, sun bleached and dusty, caked in day old blood and weariness, giving no second thoughts how one arrived at this state of being. Sums up Cursed to a T: always looking forward, not a care in the world as to what came before. (7/10)

Less then six months after releasing Omog, this Tasmanian devil by the odd name of 7 (yes, the number Seven), who has been creating under his Diable Amoreux moniker for quite some time now, has released his latest effort, all by himself, from beginning to end, from writing and playing all the instruments, to doing all the recording work, down to painting the front cover and releasing it all as a professional-grade CD.

7's latest is without a doubt also his most accessible offering to date. By Any Other Name Sunwheel is blatantly electronic, from start to finish, and in a way it pays homage to bands such as Sisters of Mercy, Psychic TV, with more than a hint of influential bands among which one can hear touches of Joy Division. It rings many bells and echoes many ‘80ss new-wave bands such as Front 242, a little bit of Bauhaus, Minimal Compact, Fad Gadget, et cetera. In addition, there's always this macabre theatrical spice or quality present in every single Diable Amoreux release, no matter what stylistic direction the artist has chosen to tread, and in that sense one cannot shake the feeling there's a lot in common between Diable Amoreux and the eccentric and mysterious Devil Doll.

Any of you thirty-something music fiends would easily recognize many of your favorite dark ‘80s bands in Diable Amoreux's recent work. It's fun and very much nostalgic, if nothing else.

Coupled with Diable Amoreux's certain and ever-present twist, the music — it could have been easily tagged as "Gothic rock" — has been infused with healthy amounts of peculiarity, which is 7's brand: if it's not fucked-up at least to a certain degree, it's not Diable Amoreux's doing.

The songs emanate twisted happiness; the semi-theatrical vocals are dark and strange; the song structure is askew and not always quite right. Overall, the music lends a feeling of uneasiness and mild lunacy (as is expected from any work by 7) and is usually much more interesting then your usual Goth rock albums out there. There's always those high-pitched screeches 7 is known for (to the extent of infamy by some who may regard his whines and screeches as virtually unbearable, but adored by this reviewer) to spice up the music.

The lyrics are intriguing; they deal with the sad fact that an ancient spiritual symbol such as the sun wheel has been abused by Nazi Germany and since those dark times till these very days it is being despised and frowned upon without justification, or something like that.

By Any Other Name Sunwheel is a unique beast in a barren landscape charged with originality and emanated nostalgia all around. (8/10)

Diable Amoreux — the peculiar Australian one-man-show — released in mid 2007 an obscurity by the name of Omog. A CD-R containing about 37 minutes of sonic peculiarity that will appeal to the very few — either avid fans or the mentally deranged. Compared to the cohesive, rather accessible and mercifully coherent and wonderful Horns Used for Butting from the previous year, Omog is out there.

Released by the productive Australian D.I.Y. CD-R label Smell the Stench, Omog contains seven odd tracks of chants, whispers, citations in French, some neoclassical moments (or the samples of such) and eerie industrial interludes.

Each track consists of a totally different sonic approach and set of sounds; if one track is more into vocal minimalism, then another is more guitar-oriented, buzzing and relentless; if a track is drenched in high-pitched and soft feminine chants, then the next is horrendously harsh, cold and completely electronic, and so on and so forth.

The experience is holistic and it should be listened to as such. One track cannot be divided from the next or the previous one. The sum of the tracks generates an eerie, unsettling cinematic experience; a soundtrack for a mad-house, the music of the damned — desolate, foreboding and decadent.

Strange and fucked up but also surprisingly original and dark. However, not another Horns Used For Butting, not by a long shot. (Strange and estranged /10)

This first full length release by the Polish Division by Zero reveals a capable band that adopts the road less travelled of mixing progressive rock with extreme metal.

"Your Salvation" is one of the Tyranny of Therapy’s most fully realized tracks, and is a good demonstration of the band’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde character. The Jekyll is represented in the form of playful keyboards, beautifully entwined with heavy, strange toned guitars, on which credible, clean vocals are delivered; while the Hyde twists are denoted by symphonic black metal-inspired keyboards and vocals.

The production is top notch, as it not only trades the characteristics and aesthetics of extreme metal with those of prog rock, but also blends them successfully, feeding one off the other.

There’s room for improvement though: "Self Control" sounds too much like Opeth (not bad in itself, as we love Opeth, but we’d also love to see the band fulfilling its singularity), plus, there are a few less successful moments, especially those on which the band’s neo prog and metal roots result in too much of a nu metal vibe ("Incinerated Wishes" is where it happens most).

With a bit more work, the band can definitely refine their already distinguishable sound into something extraordinary. We’ll certainly be looking forward for the follow up. (8/10)

In this DVD release, it seems like Estradasphere set itself the goal of adding a visual aspect to its latest, instrumental album, Palace of Mirrors. Nearly the entire album, which was reviewed in our 49th issue, is performed here live and extensively, with its storyline, allegedly based on a short story (by the DVD's director, Chip Yamada, and Estradasphere's Tim Smolens), depicted by still photos and short video snippets entwined throughout the show. Like it was on the studio album, some of the music here flows easily and comfortably, while some is more disturbing.

Even after watching the DVD a few times, the plot was still unclear, (I had to look up the internet in order to find what it's about — supposedly a futuristic story about music being reinvented in a world without real music). This, however, did not spoil anything, as the plot related scenes are cleverly regulated to fit with the live footage, which, in itself, provides an added value (read below).

First, it is a real treat watching such an exquisite team of musicians playing live. Some of the players exhibit their capabilities not only as diverse players but also as multi-instrumentalists, which means that there's a whole lot going on and a frightening dose of musical instruments on stage: "The Return" is violin and guitar chaos — its creepiness enhanced by the psychedelic lightning and dark footage. The following "The Debutante" serves as a contrast: a mellow, jazzy number featuring a nice trumpet and semi-acoustic guitar conversation, accompanied by strokes of drums and articulate upright bass playing. "A Corporate Merger" blends gypsy-flavored violin, accordion and Japanese shamisen, and on the way to a menacing metal attack of distortion loaded guitars and double bass drumming, incorporates an electric jazz keyboard solo and some inspired, multi-cultural passages.

Second, the multi-angle video is clear and professional, yet shot with an underground feel, as some of the audience viewpoints place you right inside the shebang. The footage also has a psychedelic edge, featuring some acidic, colorful lightning, and cleverly utilizing screens placed behind the band. Things get quite psychotic, most notably on "Flower Garden of an Evil Man," which delivers the violent, acted, onstage performance ecstatically, making it feel almost like a battle scene.

With all its mightiness, the band never loses it sense of humor, as evident on the only vocal number in this section, "Unicorns and Rainbows," which isn't really valuable but functions as a relaxation and for comic relief (its lyrics translated to sign language, and some goofy video is projected).

The opening set, which is also included here, together with two encores, compares with the main feature in its quality and variety, and blends well, reflecting the influences that are the basis for Estradasphere's compositions with loud interpretations of classical music and movie scores. Especially noteworthy is the version of Chopin's "Fantasy Impromptu Op. 66," which starts with an adaptation of the piece for guitar, which is then replaced by a banjo accompanied by accordion, until the drums kick in and an overdriven electric guitar picks up the piece from there.

The stereo sound, if you ever wondered, is great, and there's also a cool, 20-minute documentary included. A wonderful DVD, for Estradasphere addicts and newcomers alike. (9/10)

Death metal as a whole is a genre of two extremes: either fit for nothing less than worship or causing feelings of being drained and thoroughly uninspired on hearing the same generic sound, style and themes.

From the album cover to Waiting for His Return to Evil Incarnate’s band logo alone, it's clear that the band are at least motivated by the themes of Satanism and anti-Christianity. Following an intro that sounds very familiar, you’re greeted with death metal of a pretty high calibre. Frontman Michael Eisenhauer growls his way through the somewhat short 32-minute album with menace in his vocals; the lyrics can be heard clearly and are impressive.

Much like with Slayer’s Reign in Blood, I’m left wanting more! (7/10)

Family was a rather original rock band, active between 1967 and 1973, releasing seven studio albums. The band blended folk, blues, jazz and mild psychedelia into its raw performance, and although each ingredient’s weight varied throughout the band’s lifetime, the outcome has largely remained distinctive (the trembling vocals of frontman Roger Chapman also helps here) and avoids the classical music adaptations of most other art-rock bands of the time.

The Best of Family and Friends inaugurates Angel Air’s new "Sound & Vision" series. The CD is a fine, 14-track collection of Family material, including two essential single-only tracks (the braggy "In My Own Time" and the country flavored "No Mule’s Fool"). Clocking at over an hour, the compilation will definitely serve newcomers well (and since it only holds "The Weaver’s Answer" off the band’s second album and none off the first, even fans of the two albums who never proceeded to explore beyond them, are in for a treat).

The solid, straightforward rocker "Burlesque," which Chapman adopted as a live favorite even in his post-Family days (while abandoning most, if not all of the other Family material), the tender "My Friend, the Sun," the dark and amok live version of "Strange Band," and the anomalous "Larf and Sing," which finds the band exploring vocal harmonies under a crystal-clear production in a Gentle Giant style — all of these and many of the other tracks reveal the multiple facets of the band, and make for fascinating listening.

The DVD, featuring a nearly two-hour, 2002 concert by a recent incarnation of Roger Chapman’s Shortlist, was previously available under the title Family and Friends. Chapman has lost some of his voice, and at times he seems like he’s struggling to deliver his trademark, shaky vocals. The band, equipped with a wide variety of instruments (mandolin, viola and saxes) in order to supply the original tinges of the material, performs well and tight, and yet it lacks intrinsic energy (the far out, loose Family live performance of "Part of the Load" on the audio CD contrasts well, and serves to strengthen this observation).

The footage only makes things worse, as it feels static, and fails to deliver the live excitement. Not only that, it focuses way too much on Chapman alone, and so the viewer misses the visual aspect of some crucial moments, such as the keyboard and guitar solos on "Kiss My Soul."

Chapman Rockpalast performances (three energetic live performances, with Chapman at his prime backed by a dazzling lineup of The Shortlist, available on a single DVD release) are superior to this one, but it is the inclusion of Family material — stuff like "Holding the Compass," "The Weaver’s Answer," the true to the source "My Friend, the Sun," and the short, a cappella version of "In My Own Time," as well as a few exceptionally well-performed songs (such as "Kiss My Soul" and Dylan’s "Blind Willie McTell," both benefit from a laid back approach) — that makes this DVD still highly enjoyable and worthwhile.

All in all, this reasonably-priced set offers a very good value for money, especially if you’re a ‘70s rock aficionado but don’t hold most of the Family catalogue. (7.5/10)

Alternating bits of synth greatness and overly self-concious, below-average neofolk bits block perfection in this one. Thankfully, the baddies "Man of Fire (Black Sun)" and "Garden of Love" are over with quickly at the outset and patience is rewarded with the Swans /Vangelis sounding "Tunguska."

Golgotha take canonical poets like Georges Bataille and set the verses to long, usually beatless synth drone, often with great effect.

Momentum increases as the tracks progress, and the ominous atmospheres of "Lost Horizon" and "Birth = Rite" rescue the CD from the initial "meh." It’s just bewildered with the choice of aforementioned dud tracks plopped into the sequence.

The remaining songs drone on perfectly, mostly devoid of vocals, and then, lo, the penultimate track, "Flesh of the Orchid," brings us back to an awkward folk rendition, reminiscent of Saturday Night Live’s "Sprockets" skit — too silly. What sucks here REALLY sucks, and what rules here rules despite some farty aftertaste. The good tracks outnumber the bad, though, and there’s an awesome K. Meitzer-y subterranean darkness to most of Tales of Transgression & Sacrifice. So the scales are tipped in favor of this release and what we’ve come to expect from the Cold Meat label. Thanks to iTunes extraction, the album will get some re-sequencing in the privacy of my own playlist. (6/10)

Ever since Intronaut’s The Challenger came over the transom and laid siege to a corner of my desk, I’ve had this annoying loop in my head where anytime I think or read the band’s name I substitute Intronaut for Supernaut and reinvent the lyrical content to that ole Sabbath chestnut; trust me, that gets old reeeaaally fast. And as my esteemed editor will belligerently attest, The Challenger has been sitting in that corner for more time then he deems healthy. Let’s hope writing the damn review will purge this weasely little transmogrification, I can’t take much more.

Presumably a stop-gap until their next full length, Intronaut gives us a few new songs, a handful of live tracks and a remix. Their sound is an intriguing proposition, straddling a piranha infested moat somewhere between metalcore and post-metal; all credit due for keeping their balance and not falling in and losing their goodies. And it’s a good idea too: metalcore has long since been co-opted and watered down for MTV- ready consumption; post-metal, while still viable, is starting to get saturated with bands whose education begins and ends with the last Isis album.

The studio tracks have all the requisite ferociousness and pummel, offset and complimented by dedicatedly oblique instrumentation and evocative passages. The live tracks possess those same qualities with additional, sweat-soaked aggression, despite the fact that (now former) vocalist Leon Del Muerte is the most unfailingly polite frontman in all metal. If anything, Intronaut offers up a crash course in both the sub-genres at once. It may not be the most jaw-dropping thing to ever grace your ears, yet they have the potential and the chops to produce something that could do just that. Prepare for an interesting ride. (6/10)

It is nothing short of a mystery to me how the amazing band It Will Come is looking for a label... yet again. After releasing its wonderful 47/Bound (reviewed here) album via the Hong Kong-based label Trinity Records, this utterly mesmerizing group that is a rare beast of beauty is an orphan again.

How sad and how enraging, seeing such a talent go overlooked, and having to issue a 16-something minute demo as its visiting card. A demo? For such a unique and potent an entity who had released a debut so great it overshadows most musical garbage out there anyway? A band that should have really been busy recording its sophomore album? Outrageous.

To hit the nail on its head, Truth Is Nothing but Deceit picks right where 47/Bound left and ultimately it offers more of the same: the best of It Will Come's musical agenda of excellent and extremely powerful vocal duties performed and perfected by the nothing-short-of-magnificent singer Louise Halldin, who's also responsible for the bass playing, which is on par with her angelic-yet-prevailing, greater-than-life voice; crusty and grinding, ruthless and thrashing guitars and basic drum-work.

"Basic" does not exactly fit in describing It Will Come's music, for anything you listen to coming from this quartet of musicians is ten-fold enhanced, maybe hundred-fold, in comparison to the somewhat pale description here. It Will Come's music stirs and awakens; it hurts but also elates; ridiculously beautiful and infinitesimally melancholic.

The band's audio execution is so powerful and crystal-clear, any recent album I can think of would pale in comparison to this prodigy of sublime doom-oriented metal extravagance. If The 3rd And The Mortal had been fifty times heavier and My Dying Bride had been actually emotionally charged, their integral bastard musical spawn would have sounded like that. If only…

These mere 16 minutes are more worthwhile than dozens upon dozens of full length albums out there... combined. Labels: get this wonder signed as soon as possible, or you fools, will bitterly regret your hesitation and folly. (10/10)

Parry, being Steve Parry, he of (and who is) Hwyl Nofio, whose 2006 CD, Hounded by Fury, was the apex of an already impressive discography; and Soegaard, being Fredrik Soegaard, he of, um, uh… Nope, I got nothing. Sorry, Fredrik, I’m sure you’re a nice guy. Tell you what, I’ll buy you a beverage as recompense for my ignorance if you’re ever in town.

So Parry and Soegaard team up for an album full of guitar and guitar manipulation(s) — with a few visitations from the odd ukulele and violin — and the results are a whole lot like a Hwyl Nofio album. But not. The underlying aesthetic is the same, but where the Hwyl Nofio albums take an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach in their construction of sonic dioramas, Off the Map takes a decidedly more minimalist slant; much to the duo’s credit, the results are no less redolent or intriguing.

And the sounds these guys are squeezing out of their guitars, both manually and via electronics, run a fairly wide palette: Distorted, bubbly notes that sound like a piano immersed in a helium bath. Scratchy, low register tones emulating a cello fighting off the death grip of a bow whose horse-hair strings have been replaced with razor wire. Sitar-like cadences, alternately repetitive and free-form, augmented by the monotony of a single bell, all coalescing into a heap, an Indian wedding dosed in an excess of psychedelic colors, all the guests staring non-stop into the sun.

Each track serves as a soundtrack to a short film, or a snapshot, perhaps a faded memory. "Diagram" is a rainstorm viewed through a single window, each drop slightly sped up as it falls, elongated as it hits the glass. An abandoned ship, inhabited only by the ghosts of engines that refuse to acknowledge their obsolescence sits at the center of "Space In A Can;" the undulations and groaning of the protesting machinery countered by the insistent call of a bird lost in the myriad passageways, futilely searching for the one that will lead back towards sky.

They cap it all with "In a Field," a superlative (yet criminally short) piece of drone. Majestic and dark, yet peppered with fractured holes emitting light, the track illustrates, more than any of the others, Parry and Soegaard’s mission: to take one into unsettled environs and expose the mirror of familiarity living just underneath the surface. (7/10)

The music featured on the latest release by this Massachusetts band blends indie-rock and trip-rock in a distinguishable fashion.

Elizabeth Ezell’s vocals are at the front: tempting, teasing and lost at the same time, they swirl around and drag the listener downward into oblivion. Ezell sings in a unique, fragmented style (a strange cross between Fiona Apple and Portishead’s Beth Gibbons, if you insist) and while the words aren’t always clear, the singing creates a sense of mystery that draws you deeper and deeper into the collective spider’s web.

The web effect, of course, would have not been possible if it wasn’t for the band’s luring music. The music is as much about ambience as it is about melody, if not more so. It’s not a relaxing ambience though, but rather a disturbing one, dictated by mesmerizing guitar lines, a solidified, nailing drums and bass backbeat, ethereal keyboards and a healthy use of reverb. The occasional inclusion of an accordion as a part of the stew adds to the lush, spellbinding experience. (8/10)

Pyramids’ debut will be hailed as an avant-garde, artsy, semi-black metal shoegazer album. Look at the components. The clean, ambiently reverberant singing communicates an eerie, melancholy sweetness like Julee Cruise’s stunning songs from the "Twin Peaks" soundtrack.

Pyramids will alternate the above with harsh, dissonant tracks with drum machine set to the danceless black metal beat setting. The aura is always cold, not necessarily harsh, with varying degrees of melancholy, but invariably strike a static uneasiness. This is partially due to the fact that the tracks’ percussion exists almost on a separate plane, with the beats not really following the music, pummeling along independently, but presented very loudly. It’s also partially due to the shoegazer-esque guitar compositions that are effective in their mood, while not necessarily being actively engaging. All this presented in an album whose eye-catching cover looks like the artsy version of when people draw mustaches on bus-stop ads that feature supermodels.

The element of Pyramids that will grab you the most are the haunting vocals. Pyramids greatest failing, though, is their lack of depth. They are pretty much a two-trick pony on this album, whose sound is certainly well-crafted and calculated. It all sounds interesting and unusual, but the tracks more or less alternate between syrupy shoegazing with ethereal vocals, to danceless, oblivious drum machine over shoegaze guitars and keyboards. Because of this formula, Pyramids is about two tracks too long despite its 10-track, 31-minute length. Pyramids’ debut is quite noteworthy, but they’ll have to expand their ideas further for subsequent albums. (7.2/10)

This great new CD+DVD release delivers in every possible aspect, proving that Racing Cars never ran out of gas.

The CD portion of the set is in fact the first proper pressing of the band's 2000 album, Bolt From the Blue — another loveable collection of rock songs, once again showcasing the first-class songwriting the band is blessed with.

The DVD features the same performance available on the 30th Anniversary audio release, reviewed in issue #53 (plus some extra, unplugged numbers and interviews). The live set is engaging from start to finish, as the band puts its heart out, and plays convincingly and articulately. The setlist comprises all of the Bolt From the Blue album aside older numbers, and the fact the band chose to include the then recent album in such volume speaks for both the band and the material.

Any production less than crystal clear would not be acceptable for such a tuneful band, and indeed both the sound and the footage on the DVD are highly professional, placing you where the action is, as if you were there.

Whereas on the studio album the songs are cozier, on the live set they are, for the most part, more energetic and rockier ("The Time Has Come" is executed with a wonderful UFO vibe, "Billy" is Thin Lizzy flavored with its character-based story, and so on). A special attention should be paid to Graham Williams — a fantastic guitar player who shines throughout, and whose performance on the only cover song (George Harrison’s "While My Guitar Gently Weeps") is nothing short of breathtaking, with a solo that ventures into neoclassical territories, a la Ritchie Blackmore. (8.5/10)

The surge of doom oriented bands the past couple of years from Russia and the former Soviet Union countries is striking. In a way, this abundance has watered-down much of doom metal's aesthetics, if there ever was one. What once had been doom / death and / or funeral doom — the heaviest musical expression in the Universe; corrosive, unhealthy, oh-so-dark — has become a saccharine, sugar-crusted candy of sorts; sweet, friendly and reconciled courtesy of bands such as Revelation of Rain and its many, many peers.

Like so many a band before, and unfortunately so many that will come in the future, Revelations of Rain offers the ultimate paradox: melodic doom metal; an oxymoron, a dichotomy, the ultimate absurd. Musically, the compositions are virtually self-explained with their banality. The semi-melancholy nobody really takes seriously; the poor suspense buildup, the non-existent musical plot. Nothing unfolds, nothing stays hidden; blatant riff / key masturbation that does not scratch the surface of emotion.

Add to this a very unmoving growler, the kind of which we have encountered millions of times before, and there you have it — artistic facelessness in all its glory.

The merry bunch of Solitude Productions' bands are starting to mingle, blend and will eventually become inseparable from each other.

They all sound alike; same thin sound, same we-have-heard-this-music-zillion-times-before kind of approach. It saddens me. Solitude is an enthusiastic, hard-working and dedicated label, and one of the main factors for doom metal's renaissance in the former Soviet Union countries, namely Russia (or the mirror of which), as well as an incessant provider of quality and semi-classic album re-issues in that genre (Evoken, Hierophant, to name but two). But these grand achievements cannot compensate for the absence of musical quality; absence of artistic contents, ideas, direction and passion, or the lack thereof.

However, when you listen to albums such as The Morningside's debut, you cannot shake the feeling this album has been recorded solely for the purpose of fulfilling the legal terms of the band's recording contract. You can hear it ripping off, almost precisely, one of Katatonia's Brave Murder Day tracks riff-wise, but there the resemblance stops.

The passionless vocal execution (oh, they try so hard it verges on the laughable) and the lack of depth found on this much watered-down Brave Murder Day clone distance The Wind, the Trees and the Shadows of the Past from the greatness of the aforementioned album (actually, I could go on and on with the list of rip-offs this album is loaded with; from The Cure to This Empty Flow to the aforementioned Katatonia…).

Again, like in the other musical executions recently coming from this label (be it Solitude or BadMoodMan), the lack of cohesive sonic vision and the translation of this vision into melodies, ruins everything eventually.

It's as if The Morningside’s band members were running wild, panicking with the absence of ideas for their album, and decided to pluck and toss into their musical basket any band, style or influence familiar to them and in turn offer it as if it were their final product.

It may have succeeded, had the band been equipped with the skill and knowledge (the know-how) of how to extrapolate those assorted influences and deliver an individualistic product, rather than copy and paste them into "their" music (and I wouldn't mind also a healthy dose of real passion that would actually be heard in the music), thus crowning The Wind, the Trees and the Shadows of the Past as one of the most unoriginal and dispassionate albums in quite some time. (1/10)

The new release by veteran Canadian rockers Saga is pretty much what you expect it to be — formulaic, catchy hard rock songs played by experienced musicians and enjoying an appropriate, full bodied production.

The first song, "Lifeline," is an energetic number that benefits from a nice interplay between the guitars and keyboards. The second, "Book of Lies," is mischievous: Its verses are founded on fragmented keyboards that join into a dazzling melodic riff prior to the thin chorus. Going through the rest of the songs would be an exercise in redundancy, simply because there’s nothing much in them that hasn’t been said in the first couple of tunes — songs that feature a few stunning solos next to mid tempo rhythms, and were routine if it wasn’t for the great melodic sensitivity and skillful craft they exhibit.

10,000 Days is expected to be the last to feature original member Michael Sadler, who left in favor of better family life. Sadler’s vocal performance here is nothing out of the ordinary, at times even fatigued, but it also holds a slight melancholic vibe as he sums up his 30 years with the group through the songs (most notably on the title track). You need not worry as the band, which still features longtime members Ian Crichton, Jim Crichton and Jim Gilmour, has already announced a replacement. (6.9/10)

Argentinian Argentum brings to us five tracks of ambient music, which brings to mind the earlier works of Mortiis as well as the later prison releases of Burzum. The mood varies from strictly dark ambient territories with the sounds of thunder and rain, to melodies that evoke Summoning somewhat, with military style drumming and an epic, rousing feel. These later Summoning-esque tracks, in particular "Salve Victoria II," are much more successful than the more creepy dark ambient ones.

Brazilian Sigvegr bring us more ambient music, but in a much different style than Argentum. Their motivations are clear, with Hitler speeches and other pro-white activists blending into the rather bizarre music, which varies from the proud feeling to the sad, mournful moments. The music is at times verging on being noise and the music constantly changes, which feels on occasion a tad confusing. The band do show some promise though, and certain tracks work much better than others, with a clear standout being "Against New World Order."

The last track on the album appears to be a collaboration between the two bands, and falls firmly into the noise category, with more speeches and excerpts from films. (6/10)

People who are into dark music, into electronic soundscapes, into oppressive ambient, and who are also very active on the internet have probably heard of Kenji Siratori. He’s mostly known for being a cyberpunk writer, writing novels that are a jumble of organic and technical horror, but that’s slowly changing.

For a couple of years now, Siratori has been releasing record after record after record — working together with both accomplished artists in the field of experimental electronica (an intense Nordvargr / Beyond Sensory Experience vs Kenji Siratori album was released two years ago) and up and coming, or lesser known artists. If you browse through his Myspace page, there is just a long list of albums he has appeared on, or worked on. He is intensely prolific, and seems to be eager to work with anyone; but very little is known about the man himself or his motives behind his work. There are a few interviews floating around the internet but none of them make much sense — it’s like the interviewer is talking to a weird mix of human personality and electronic processing.

Maybe this is a good thing; maybe this freak synergy also helps to propel the music forward into truly stellar territory. It can, and it has in the past, but on this record, the whole process is marred by the atmosphere and the image it tries to present. The album is called Crypt Mind, and the black and white artwork is suitably crypt-like with pictures of altars with candles on them. There is a track called "Disturbance Mantra" — all the signs point to the record being something steeped in mysticism.

There is a total lack of the cybernetic extravaganza that makes Siratori’s work so interesting. The music here is distorted ambience, there is a lot of long and drawn out static, strange voices drowning in feedback; this is not really a great departure of what Siratori normally does, and the atmosphere and presentation feels wrong. Take away the artwork, take away the idea that this music is being conjured up on top of a stone altar inside a place filled with shadows, and the music stands well on its own.

But if the concept of this cybernetic / organic bizarro world is gone, and instead Siratori wanders dark halls covered in robes and singing mantras, well, then it all starts to feel very silly. (5.5/10)

Skogyr is a one-man project of one Farakh. The style is metal that worships at the altar of ecology: Pagan black metal inspired by nature and by the sensation of being one with it, whether it be while being under the influence of some substance or just by wandering through it without being bothered by the presence of unwanted human activity or company. Without a doubt, it must not be too difficult to wander in solitude in the outstretched forests of Russia.

The songs on Rainchants are all instrumentals, on which both guitars as well as keyboards play an important role; they’re backed by a drum machine. They are simply titled "Chant I" to "IV," except for track five, entitled "Silent Hil,l, which is a cover from a theme by Akira Yamaoka, who is a Japanese music composer for video games.

"Chant I" is a crossroad where melancholy and majesty meet with the tranquil sounds of birds in a forest. Slowly those sounds go over in the sound of rain falling, and gently an acoustic guitar and keyboards seep through the speakers. Slowly the atmospheric biotope of Farakh is unveiled. Rainchants is solitary music and works well while travelling in a bus or train, staring away when passing by green landscapes and pastures. It could be like when wandering through the woods walking simultaneously to the rhythm. In any case, it’s music that somehow requires appropriate imagery and associations. In that sense, it’s interactive music asking the listener to be aware of his or her environment.

In support of this idea, "Chant I" also comes as a bonus video version, consisting of several impressionistic filmshots of Farakhs muse, the birch trees. Now I have to say that since I already own Striborg’s Journey of a Misanthrope DVD, which is full of these kind of forest films, I’m very certain that there will be more of them in the next few years. In fact, it was Burzum, who was among the first to combine metal and forest films over a decade ago with his song "Dunkelheit."

Speaking of Burzum, there is a certain musical similarity with these Rainchant songs and the feel of a Burzum song like "A Lost Forgotten Sad Spirit" (from the Aske EP). When imagining away the madman’s screamed vocals, they both share the same simplicity in composition and drive of minimalistic drums, which are just enough to indicate the intended tempo and rhythm. The difference is that tunes like "Chant II" and "III" are not as depressive, but all the more melancholic.

The melodies are catchy in their simplicity, and for this reason I have found myself repeatedly playing Rainchants when there was no real immediate desire to play something more intense, evil or brutal. Besides, it has become a pretty good and clear production considering it’s all DIY.

The only problem with these "Chants" is that Farakh repeats those melodies way longer than nescessary. It’s like when ‘80 pop bands put out 12" singles with extended mixes going on and on far beyound the essential.

While Farakh probably intended to extend the atmosphere, he could have done just as easily by shortening two 12-minute songs in exchange of adding two more "Chants" instead. Having said that, this debut stands very well with its unpretentious concept, even though Farakh is obviously far from being a musical genius or technical perfectionist.

The ideas and music sound honest nevertheless, which makes Rainchants a very likeable release. (7/10)

Sourvein’s Ghetto Angel is hysterical sludge metal with a misogynic outlook (mostly conjured from the cover art, evoking Soilent Green) and concept (strangely enough, as one of the band members is a woman) and a derivative sound that could be attributed to any of the few southern-drenched, stoner-influenced sludge doom metal groups out there such as Weedeater and Electric Wizard.

You might call Sourvein "happy sludge," even though Ghetto Angel is very much disheartening, vile, harsh and hostile, yet not very innovative nor original, but who needs originality when the offering is so convincing, sngry and callous? Not I.

Heavier then a band of elephants, the guitars just rip through everything and leave nothing but dust. The high-pitched, hysterical shrieks add to the overall mayhem and amplify the pain this music emanates. If you want to hear what happens when two mammoths such as Crowbar and Weedeater collide, then pick this short album up and prepare to get numb. (8/10)

The musical concoction that Spyder Baby has devised consists of industrial, metal and punk sounds. Detroit’s Stevie Branch is in charge of the musical direction of the music. However, following the 2004 demo, Bugs Crawl In, Spyder Baby has been "under the wing" of Ministry’s Al Jourgensen. On Let Us Prey, Jourgensen remixes and co-produces the track "Bitter," a crude and dynamic composition that is far from pretty and clean.

What’s interesting about the record is how it manages to sound dirty and unprocessed while experimenting with sounds and musical juxtapositions. "Lips of Red," for instance, takes creepy, cheap-budget horror sounds and blends them with ghoulish screams and deepthroat guitar sounds. "The Worms" is a slower tempo track and has a grotesque sound to it, with its subdued guitars and morbid lyrical theme.

There is nothing largely wrong with the record. The songs are played well, albeit they are not necessarily "revolutionary." You may also realise that Spyder Baby is unmistakably influenced by Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, Rob Zombie and Ministry; to some extent, even Static-X and the like. (6.6/10)

This is the second album from Thine Eyes Bleed, a band made up of five bearded Canadians from the surroundings of Ontario, in a not-so-capital place called London. By chance, I had a flight from Amsterdam to Atlanta last year which passed by this small place at a distance of just three miles. Here it is then, the sound of London, Canada. Insignificant? Well, that’s a question of how to look at it, because after all, this is the band with a bass player called John Araya. Yes, that is indeed the brother of Tom, who also plays in a nice little band called Slayer.

Unsurprisingly, the thrash-metal from Thine Eyes Bleed is not very dissimilar.

Certainly, Thine Eyes Bleed are not yet enjoying the fame Slayer garners, but their brutal blasts with sandpaper-rubbed vocal fury fits effortlessly along the same lines. Apart from the thrashy elements of Slayer, Thine Eyes Bleed also carry the more complex and mathy approach from Mastodon (listen to an opener like "With Burning Breath").

No less remarkable on this release is "Moja Diablo," a nice and sinister instrumental on acoustic guitar that appears as an interlude halfway through the album. It averts the danger of songs sounding too similar, and gives the listener a breath before the four final pieces, among which the pitchblack and dragging "Truth in Evil" and "The Mouth of Hell" come tumbling down like a hailstorm of boulders.

The production for this second album was taken care of by Siegfried Meier, who has also been responsible for working for one of the most successful heavy metal all-girl group, Kittie. In fact, though far from being cute, the guitarist from Thine Eyes Bleed, Jeff Phillips, has also played in Kittie as a second lead guitarist! Some may chuckle about it, but I think that it requires a lot of balls to be as open-minded as that. Perhaps one might say it’s not despite, but because of that ballsiness, this album by Thine Eyes Bleed has become solid, furious and very pleasant to listen to. (7.5/10)

Swedish melodic death is so played. Emo is so played. Combining the two augments that perspective two fold.

Wait. Isn’t that like metalcore? Sort of, except Through Your Silence is even MORE like a Swedish band (they’re Italian) with the repugnant pop punk-esque choruses.

Whispers to the Void is fuzzier At the Gates with more husky vocals and a couple horrifying instances per song with those all-too familiar clean vocals that are meant as melodic counterpoint, but really aren’t that mellifluous at all. It’s the chorus you’ve heard on every third-rate ‘core band that can’t sing so they do the same thing that other bands who can’t sing do... and since it’s become such a staple, using effects that are obviously effects to make up for shortcomings that end up sounding like a stylistic leaning of the genre, and the whole thing is fucked up beyond belief. Throw this shit out of metal.

The recording is as beefy as the vocals: thick and fuzzy, with drums that cut through. Like the vocals, the music is recorded and produced with calculation and achieved intent, it’s just that the intent is sadly nowhere above what already too many others are doing. (3/10)

Fly Paper is the latest offering from Detroit prog/hard rock outfit Tiles, active since 1993. A glance at the album’s credits revealed Terry Brown, famed for his work with Rush, in the producer’s chair. If such an association causes you to anticipate a fresh take on Rush’s work, Fly Paper will live up to your demands.

The deadly riff with which the album opens signals that Tiles is indeed Rush derived — a direct and alarming riff, synced with a robust bass line and laying the ground for some of the most melody-driven hard rock in quite a while (that lasts the entire album, that is). Acoustic guitar appears as the first verse starts, without clouding the heavy, electric atmosphere; the song, quite like those that follow, relies on twists of this sort to keep your attention throughout.

Putting aside the under-produced drums, most Rush fans would agree that this energetic, modern album also amalgamates a bit of the band’s electro-acoustic ‘70s sound with the punchy yet confined songwriting of the early ‘80s. In fact, Fly Paper is not totally unlike Rush’s recent material, but it manages to sound more gutsy and truthful due to its immediacy. If that’s not enough, then the fact Rush’s own Alex Lifeson guests on guitar (on "Sacred and Mundane") might help to convince you of Tiles’ high rank.

Still, a warning is required. The high impact songs aren’t as thought provoking as classic Rush material; and despite the well structured compositions and first class hooks, the less demanding vocals (when compared to Geddy Lee’s, which are an acquired taste) and some slightly fawning segments (like the first half of "Hide and Seek," until the aerial keyboards enter) may bring a mainstream rock connotation to mind. (8/10)

A lot has been said and written about how Ulver is always changing, and never sounds the same from record to record. It’s one of the main reasons why people are so into them, and it’s one of the main reasons why people will never listen to more than one record, or why people fail to enjoy the band as a whole.

There’s never an impression that this process of "re-inventing" Ulver is either a conscious decision on their part — of a natural sort of progression. They seem to be following a certain timeline, one that’s perhaps unclear to the rest of us. Perhaps each new album is not new at all, but simply a snapshot of Ulver in a state of being as they are right then and there. They exist, as a band, as a product, and they grow continuously because that’s just what happens in life.

Ulver is growing up. And then a new album is made, and another, and each is a representation of Ulver at a certain age.

This is probably a bunch of old news, or even a bunch of bullshit to Ulver fans. And probably an interesting thought, or a "fuck that" to people who are not really sure what they’re listening to. Each person has their own thoughts, and their own feelings, and these will get mingled with the feelings and atmospheres of the new record. And then the product of that gets thrown around, on the internet, no one understands one another, mass hysteria ensues, people swear never to listen to Ulver again and a whole bunch of people get scared off without even giving Shadows of the Sun a listen at all.

Or, they hear the record, or the band, for the first time and think "what the hell, this is so depressing, why am I listening to this?" which I think is a perfectly reasonable thought to have after you sit down and listen to a song or two.

The album is very mysterious. It’s very hard to get through, and very oppressive to the senses. The album wraps around, and then wraps around again, and it sort of muffles emotions and expressions until everything starts to feel and sound more than a little sad and dark. There is no drum-driven freak out, or a synth-laden blast from the past, or any escape from the one mood that this album bleeds from every direction: oppressiveness.

It’s a very beautiful record, it sounds very warm, very full and layered, and there is a depth to the songs that feels rewarding to get through, but it weighs heavily on the ears and heart constantly. This is Ulver being at an age that most people would rather forget, or skip. But one that will ultimately prove to be an important lesson, a state of being that is paramount to growing up healthy and balanced. Just bite through the sadness and solitude, stick with the band a little longer and listen to the side that is often ignored or put away because it will prove to be an experience that is worth it.

But if this is your first taste of Ulver then you’re seeing them not as the entity that they truly are, you are seeing a snapshot of a difficult time — get to know them, revisit old memories, and look forward to new ones. (8/10)

The promotional sheet states Edward Box’s intentions of returning to the roots of traditional metal as the drive for establishing Vendetta. This statement is crucial to setting the anticipations level straight (a privilege the casual listener doesn’t have, but that is why we’re here). The sheet also promises an album "packed full of guitars with solos that trade off a la Tipton and Downing, harmonies and a wide range of different tonalities" and crowns Box as "one of the UK leading guitar virtuosos."

What a bunch of bullshit.

Vendetta’s take on traditional metal is shameful in its banality. While classic metal bands like Judas Priest and Iron Maiden relied on a keen sense of melody, conquering rhythms, and even creativity and refinement, Vendetta relies mostly on power chords and generic solos.

Box, who admits that the vocals "presented a huge challenge," (for himself, that is, and we agree) is far from being an adequate singer. If other bands rely on vocal lines for overall melodic hooks, Vendetta simply cannot afford such a thing! And so, with lack of brilliant riffs and melodic richness, the vocals add to routine, treading rhythms, making some of the songs ("Doorways of the Mind" or "Golden Boy," for example) sound like a poor take on early Motley Crue.

Some shredding guitar maneuvers help a bit in distinguishing the band from the casual ‘80s pop metal, but, as mentioned earlier, these are too generic, and their level of execution, even in the case of the highlight "Plastic God" (perhaps the closest the band gets to Judas Priest, aside from "No Safe Hole," which sounds like an imitation of Priest’s "Dissident Aggressor"), is clearly not in the level of true greats. (3.5/10)

This is a tribute album with various bands from the Czech Republic who cover material from Master’s Hammer, a band that released demos and albums from 1987-1995.

As it appears over the years, the works of Master’s Hammer have proven to be inspirational for black Czech metal. The bands featured here are: Darkstorm, Avenger, Hromovlad, Serhmet, Agmen, Unclean, Silva Nigra and Algor. Each band delivers two songs. Unfortunately, the info in the booklet is practically unreadable due to both a difficult font type and, well, all info is given in Czech, so it’s really down to the music.

Musically, there is little to remark. Most songs seem to be faithful renditions of old school black metal from the early ‘90s. There’s little originality here, so it’s a matter of pointing out what is good and what is not. In general, the guitar riffs vary from average and simple, to dangerously dull.

Darkstorm sounds well recorded with dirty vocals. Avenger, however, is more atmospheric and also uses some keyboards. Hromovlad has them too, but is not as well-produced with too much low-end noise. Their cover of "Briezdenie" stands out slightly for its folky intro with a mouthharp, followed by a very fast drumming action.

Sehrmet goes even a bit further down the stairs of production with a rough demo sound with drums sounding as if captured by one single mic. Agmen is an example of a band with an unusual production that suits the music, but their the manner in which their vocalist squeezes his vocal chords together sounds a little forced.

Unclean delivers the longest songs on this album. Their first song, "Kolem Kotle," begins with a long intro with sounds from the fireplace and it has several screams fit to make your mum’s hair rise up her neck. Their second song also has verses with sinister low, clean vocals. Unclean almost manage to sound like Horna. A shame however about the silly keyboard vocals that come in later on.

Silva Nigra competes with Sehrmet for the best under-production, because the setting of the snare drum is all wrong and doesn’t mix well with the rest of the music. Perhaps because of this the songs of Silva Nigra have more of fast punk feel. Algor finally has a sound similar to Agmen but with more convincing vocals.

So there you have it. A compilation with black Czech metal varying from pretty poor sounding (Sehrmet) to nearly pro-sounding (Avenger). What is difficult to determine is what is so remarkable about Master’s Hammer’s compositions, because, at least on this tribute album, none of them come across as groundbreaking or particularly original.

This tribute album unites both good and not-so-good bands. Unfortunately, it might not be any these bands who will tempt you to check out their own material after listening to this tribute CD. OK, perhaps Unclean score best on my evil-indicator, but I can’t help to think what a better album this would have been were it a tribute album dedicated to Maniac Butcher, "the blackest, rawest and definitely the most extreme black metal band from the Czech Republic." In 2004, there was a Maniac Butcher retrospective that featured a few covers done by Darkstorm and Avenger (something that emphasises why they are among the better ones on this comp).

Hence I’d say: rather eight Maniac Butcher covers than 16 Master’s Hammer covers. A Golden Tribute to Master’s Hammer goes no further than being mildly amusing. (5/10)

(Ed’s note: This album made such an impression on Pal that he called it "a tribute to Thor’s Hammer" no fewer than four times throughout his original submission.)

Trancelike Void’s take on trance induction is via a formula of Burzum meets shoegaze meets post rock. Destroying Something Beautiful’s tracks alternate between mystical, sweetly melancholic ambient guitar pieces, to highly repetitious, simple black metal compositions backed by as bare bones a drum beat as you can find. The vocals come in only sporadically, and blend in as much as the guitars in the way they are distorted.

The genius, though, is that Destroying Something Beautiful works because of these elements. The sounds come across with such calculated, fuzzy heaviness that it’s almost graceful. This is an album that you want to turn up and melt away to, wide-eyed and gape-mouthed, in a comfortable reclining chair. The effect will be a duality of deathlike peace and grounding mantra.

The irony with this record is that, like trying to erase footprints by sweeping behind you as you walk in muddy shoes, Destroying Something Beautiful creates as much beauty as it obliterates. In that seeming contradiction, it upholds the fragile existence that quality, meaningful black metal often embodies: being so brutally ugly, yet carrying a facet of comeliness. The album culminates in a total experience that equates precisely to the moniker that was chosen for this project. Superb. (9/10)

The Witch Tomb and Martyrvore split release, entitled "Screaming in Heaven," is a must-own for those less-subtle individuals who like their metal as raw as freshly slaughtered lamb, as piercing as some medieval torture device designed to slice through your internal organs while you rot at the hands of your merciless torturers, as loud and unrelenting as machine gun fire that awakens your restful slumber.

This unholy unity of two of New England’s finest delivers black/death metal in a decidedly rough, uncommercial fashion that is designed to bludgeon and flay.

The release begins with Witch Tomb’s offering of six tracks that bear such straight-for-the-jugular names as "Ripping Flesh," " Feeble Jew," and " Holy Altar Burning." The guitars rip in a chainsaw-like fashion while the drums plummet and pound as vocals are screeched and growled above the cacophony. The mix is very low-fi, and serves up a beating not for those accustomed to higher-end studio sounds. While the mix has more depth and nuance than a demo release, it is only a few steps above that style of rough-edged noise. The tracks blister through at high speed, and finish their beating swiftly with short track length.

The second half of the split is devoted to the vomitings of Martyrvore. The production here is distinctly clearer than the Witch Tomb tracks, and perhaps a bit too slick for this style of metal. This can be easily forgotten in the whirl wind of sadistic metal intensity. "Witch of Death" is a fast paced, blasting homage to some morbid hag. The vocals are reminiscent of David Vincent here, and the grind edged, black / death even brings to mind Terrorizer at some points. "Dark Satanic Forces" begins with a slow bludgeon, but gives way to blast before long. "Iron Satan" launches in, bringing to mind Blasphemy with its phrasing and riffing. It contains some stops, and then goes into blast territory once more.

Overall, the Martyrvore tracks contain quite a bit of dynamic, with some brief flurries of quick lead guitar passages over mayhemic rhythm sections.

These two bands are an apt pairing for a split release. Both deliver high energy black / death metal that is raw and rough, and full of speed, hatred and vomit. While Witch Tomb has a nasty bite of a mix, that promises atmosphere and grating texture, Martyrvore blasts through a comparitively clear mix that shows their compositions to actually have quite a lot of dynamic. This release is highly recommended for fans of Blasphemy, Profanatica, Proclamation and other filthy black/death metal bands. (8/10)

Review goal: avoiding a smart-ass inclusion of Zamfir, Master of the Pan Flute.*

The two young turks — and I do mean Turks, given that they’re from, well, Turkey — that compose Zifir have a pretty good thing going on here; black metal that cherry picks from a good crop of bands mixed with liberal doses of horror movie atmospherics in the form of dark ambient set pieces, mixed with industrial scrapings. And though You Must Come With Us doesn’t coalesce as a whole (they rarely mix the metal with the ambient), most of the tracks stand on their own cloven feet without too much teetering.

Slap You Must Come With Us into the deck and you’ll be greeted with most tropes from the black metal canon: lightning fast here, mid-paced there, bombastic, then restrained, clean sounding one minute, nekro and buzzy the next. Imagine each song as a group of mugshots and you’ll pull Celtic Frost out of the lineup first, followed by Carpathian Forest, then Emperor and, no, wait, take a listen and do it yourself, it’s educational and fun.

So we’ll cut ‘em some slack, this is album number one and they’re off to a fine start. And if they want to trump Blut Aus Nord in the weirdness stakes? Why not go ahead and give Zamfir a ring. Seriously. I doubt even the French are crazy enough to give it a shot. (7/10)

*with over 40 million albums sold, Gheorghe Zamfir brought the Romanian pan flute from obscurity to global phenomenon; his modification of the flute from its traditional 20 pipes to 30 expanded the instrument’s tonal range in ways never imagined. Still going strong at age 67, he teaches the instrument to students in Bucharest and can still drink any of his students under the table.

Here is a solo musician (Joey Vera, who does all instruments and vocals excluding drums) who has chosen a name for his project that really doesn't reflect the music at all. The "Chinese Firedrill" is when a group of people get out of a car at a red light, and then get back in different seats. It can refer to people accomplishing nothing, which is not something that really relates to Circles. A Chinese Firedrill has accomplished something great here, which is the case for most ProgRock Records bands.

The opening moments for "Automatic Fantasy" is a fine testament to the progressive nature of A Chinese Firedrill. They use elements that are not particularly pleasing to listen to, yet present them in an enjoyable and harmonic manner. The music further introduces influences even beyond your above-average progressive rock, acoustic, and heavy sounds. At times, there is funk-influenced material, while at others there are tribal drums with discordant acoustic guitar chords. With the many diverse effects thrown in to the mix, the sound environment is truly immersive.

This music is very adventurous, and does not stick to any preconceived notions of how the genre should sound. Of course it is very progressive and very pleasing to listen to, yet it is so much more than that. Unlike most prog bands who strive to release that epic 75-minute work, Circles is a spot-on and concise 45 minutes.

Some of the best cuts on this disk include the ballad-like "Insane," which has cool guitar flange effects on a mainly drum / piano / bass verse. The chorus explodes with heaviness in contrast to the tranquil verse. "Siucra" is another head-bobber with plenty of effect augmentation. "Grass and Stone" is another lighter song that makes good use of the discordant sound and unusual progressions. (8/10)

review by: Avi Shaked

North from Here is unquestionably Sentenced’s heaviest and darkest offering, a snarling cyclone of razor-sharp death metal blackened to a tar. With this album, the band achieved international attention and helped spawn many similar bands in the years to follow.

North from Here saw Taneli Jarva take over vocal duties, which was quite a shift from the debut. Whereas vocals on Shadows of the Past were mainly a nod to acts such as Morbid Angel (low, warbly roars), North from Here gave us vicious rasps.

The metal laid down here, though not necessarily brutal, is nonetheless uncompromising. Tracks such as "Awaiting the Winter Frost" annihilate the senses with a malevolent synth intro and diabolical riffing that seems to swirl through the cosmos, sucking your mind into the hopeless chasm of a supermassive black hole. "Beyond the Wall of Sleep" charges through like a rhino in a dark circus with its percussive onslaught, whereas closing track, "Epic," languishes along with defiant outbursts of blastbeats to emphasize the track's heathen admiration.

Take note of some of the lyrics: "Born in the wrong century/ Turn... to a wrong reality; My heart belongs to the past — I feel attraction to the night... my mind to the ancient times." Perhaps such bold statements inspired other bands, though doubtless there were predecessors with similar admissions.

Another thing worth pointing out are the four bonus tracks on this reissue. Most notably, they churn out a kickass cover of Iron Maiden's "The Trooper." Admittedly, Iron Maiden has been covered countless times, but Sentenced has the rhythm section and the general skill to pull it off well. Whenever a harsh-vocaled band covers one with clean vocals it tends to have a simultaneously humorous and serious quality, which is part of this cover's appeal. "Desert by Night" is almost an aberration in the fact that it is an original song but sounds akin to a power metal or ‘80s song in the tone of the guitars and the pacing. "In Memoriam" is a wild card of groove-laden death metal from Shadows, and finally "Awaiting the Winter Frost" appears again. Who knows what the thinking was behind this double treatment. There's no discernible change in structure, tone, or intensity.

North from Here is an impressive display of compositional power and finesse, and definitely one of the best albums of its style to come out of the ‘90s.