Ah, that tiny logo at the back of the booklet, saying that we should "stop the madness" and that drugs are bad. Mmkay. Maybe it’s no longer the Reagan era (and the group 3 Inches of Blood probably has nothing to do with it), but drugs are bad. Anyway, let’s focus on the record. Produced by Joey Jordison, Fire Up the Blades is decent.

What with a name like 3 Inches of Blood, you might expect another crap metalcore / hardcore group that pertains to a scene that seems to be oh so fashionable at the moment.

It’s hard to tell how serious or how original the material is. However, it is metal, partaking of the chalice of the eternal gods known as Manowar, Judas Priest and Slayer.

The intro is too long. Full stop. It just defies the purpose of building up the tension, instead annoying the listener. The rest of the songs are generally enthusiastic, having the ability to bring about some head bobbing. You might roll your eyes at the riffs and take the piss out of the singer. And the lyrics. But it’s metal and it’s chipper.

"Infinite Legions" is full of moshing energy and ripping guitar solos. "Demon Blade" is somewhat thrashy and has an impressive vocal part where the singer sounds like he got punched in the testicles. "The Goatriders Horde" features a strange mix of vocal patterns that reappear throughout the record.

There are some weak parts to the album, such as certain vocal parts or guitars that are way out of place within a composition. Overall, the songs aren’t bad and the tracks in the vein of good old heavy metal. Metal comfort food. I’ll give them an extra point for the singer’s waggery voice. Or rather, the balls to sing with that kind of voice. (6/10)

Okay, so the album cover sucks. You might appreciate the chick’s tits, the oogles of blood or the torch… but it sucks anyway.

The songs are pretty catchy, and the ghoulish melodies add an original element to it. There are plenty of queer little musical titbits (yes, pun intended) such as the Paris-type feel of the end of "Live the Lie" or the outlandish vocals in "Roadkill."

The melodies are entertaining, as are the distinct vocals. And yes, even the synths provide enjoyment. The songs are dandy, even if you may get tired of them eventually.

To further diversify, Freevil decided to add some female vocals here and there. Trying too hard, you may say. Well, maybe they just want to be atypical.

The bottom line is, this probably isn’t the best or the worst record there is out there, but just for the sake of hearing the wonderfully uncommon cocktail that Freevil came up with. Orgasmic, as the label promises? Maybe not. But fun. (6.5/10)

Through its connections with John McCoy (Gillan’s bass player), Angel Air delivers us another set of Gillan material, this time in both audio and video.

The CD, which captures the band live at the Hammersmith from 1980, is noisy and suffers from improper mastering. The low fidelity is felt especially on the squeaking high frequencies. A proper disclosure would have helped accepting the flaws (or at least warn potential buyers), but the only warning is found inside the accompanying booklet and relates to the audience recording source of the last four songs (out of 13 tracks net), and their sound is indeed inferior.

One can definitely argue against the necessity of releasing such a recording when other Gillan recordings are available in official form, including some by the particular lineup presented here (Live at the BBC 79/80 and On the Rocks, for instance). I personally would have preferred to see one of the great bootleg recordings of the Gillan-fronted Black Sabbath getting its official release instead.

Still, despite all of its flaws, the set is rocking and enjoyable. It includes most of the "Glory Road" album and then some. "On the Rocks" is notable for some flute playing (the residues of the Ian Gillan Band?), and a loud guitar solo by Bernie Torme, which leads nicely into a crunchy take of "Smoke on the Water."

The aforementioned pretty much leaves the final verdict in the hands of the DVD. Luckily, and despite the main feature — a live set in Edinburgh the same year — being only twenty-five minutes long, the DVD is a pleasing one, and it makes you appreciate and enjoy Gillan (the band). The stereo sound, which features fat bass (sometimes on the account of the guitar), and the multi-angle footage are up to the standard (well, apart from a small dose of primitive video effects).

The Edinburgh footage highlights Gillan’s (the band) blues roots, which are elsewhere overclouded by the band’s hard rock robustness. Check out the versions of "Trouble" and "If You Believe Me" and see for yourself.

Like on the audio CD (only in finer quality here), No Easy Way features a fantastic, cool dialogue between Bernie Torme and keyboardist Colin Towns, the latter who actually plays his Moog lines in a jazz-rock fashion a la Jan Hammer, while the former replies with his slide guitar. Unfortunately, the footage ends abruptly in the middle of the hot dialogue, most possibly due to the TV broadcast constraints at the time it was aired, leaving you frustrated and guessing "what if?"

Another section of the DVD reveals three more songs performed live ("Vengeance," "Smoke on the Water" and "Sleeping on the Job"). These are also professionally shot but of lesser quality (and with a rather big logo placed on an upper side of the screen), and still, they are a treat for anyone who likes Gillan. Oh, and there are also some nice, recently filmed recollections by the band members.

All in all, No Easy Way is a good set, and nothing should stop Gillan addicts from grabbing it (those who are stricter, however, should subjectively weigh the pros and cons before making their decision). (5.75/10)

So, with music that does know how to speak, but isn't sure what to say, and the lyrics doing the exact opposite, The Last Breath of My Mortal Despair is a mixed affair. On surface, all is great, but after a while it becomes a standard black metal album made by above-average musicians. (6.9/10)

Essence of Existence itself, no less? With a name like this from this Slovakian team, you would have to expect something colossal and mind-bending. After all, they formed way back in 1993, went through a number of line-up changes and delivered two albums before this latest one. Truth be told, Terra Mentis does look colossal, at least from a distance. But come closer and it doesn't look that bright.

Terra Mentis is a well-elaborated concept album about some kind of astral sci-fi travel, a discovery of a new world with ancient graves on it, and further events. The volume of the lyrics is frightening. The musicianship is superb as well. Think about something between Covenant's Nexus Polaris and recent Dimmu Borgir drenched in sci-fi keyboards and accompanied by dreamy female vocals. The sound is acceptable, and the blastbeats for the first quarter of Terra Mentis, although programmed, are a joy to listen to. But that's the first quarter. After listening to Terra Mentis about six or seven times, for the life of us we can't remember what the third and fourth quarter were about.

The first thing that you notice is that the guitar sound isn't as good as it initially seemed, for after a while, the midrange-y tone becomes tedious, like the guitars are playing one and the same thing. Then you start noticing the drums. All the kudos to Essence of Existence's programming skills, but since the cymbals are so obviously artificial, please don't try to make them so much all over the place. On a few songs, it's hard to pay attention to anything else because the cymbals just go on and on doing that "technical" thing. Yes, they are played better than a real drummer could do, but a real drummer would also have some sense of balance.

Also, the growls and screams, plenty of them, are overdoing it and the songs stay the same. Yes, there are rhythm changes but there are no tempo changes. As long as it's blastbeats versus skank beats, the tempo is enjoyable. But when the second half of Terra Mentis begins, or a few minutes sooner or later, all the concentration and enthusiasm one might have had when starting is gone. Things are definitely happening, but, at that point, all you can perceive are the cymbals, the guitars still sounding the same and the female vocals sounding far less exciting than in the beginning.

Terra Mentis might impress the first time you hear Essence of Existence blasting away. Yet, with all the tremendous effort, they failed to prove that there is more to existence than a single dimension. (5.8/10)

Dark Forest’s Aurora Borealis toes a fine line between clear and powerful and clear and plastic, but doesn’t go too far as to ruin it all by going too far into synthetic territory.

For a forest-themed band, the sound is far from organic. But the trick is that although just about everything has at least some major synthetic aspect to it (from the fake flutes, choirs and strings, to the heavily sampled drums, to the highly controlled distortion of the guitars), it doesn’t sound cheap. Rather, Aurora Borealis comes across as being played by a powerful orchestra, albeit one made up of replicated instruments. Still, the album is put together with such effectively calculated intent that you might not necessarily long for anything else in this case. And despite its un-organic personality, try to figure out how Aurora Borealis still makes you long for the grandiose tranquility of a fabled nocturnal forest.

Aurora Borealis’ vibe is proud and well-conveyed. The songs are good, too. Come the fourth or fifth listen, even months later, and you’ll start to fondly anticipate the changes in the songs’ arrangements. Dark Forest’s music can have similarities to Bathory, Windir, Summoning, and Falkenbach, with Christmas keyboards and mouth harp. The tonalities achieve a deep reverberance that equals the success of a fine Pagan-themed metal album. (8/10)

If you don't know them, "Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band" might sound awkward. Like their name, they are not a traditional band, not even by already quite loose post-rock standards. What we have here is a band that has changed about as many times of genre as it has changed their name, from their first underproduced, delicate albums to the vocal-centered, kind of political approach they took some years ago. This time around, they decided to drop their string-centered approach and put the "rock" back into "post-rock," and put vocals on top of it.

After an intro of sorts, we're shoved face first into what will essentially be the whole 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons: psychedelic guitar-based post-rock. The album is, surprisingly, a big "fuck off" to the usual "post-rock equals Godspeed! You Black Emperor" way of thinking that we reviewers apply most of the time. 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons is, at its core, a rock album. A Silver Mount Zion has always been kind of the outlaw of post rock, with uncommon practices and arrangements, but this time they decided to cut off their strings and be free of the whole "let's add some more tremolo picking layers!" kind of stuff too. And the result is amazing, but it'll enrage everyone but the least conservative of their fans.

Technically, 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons is simple. Simplistic, you could say. Most songs are based on three or four themes (and we're talking about thirteen minute songs here) so expect a lot of repetition, a lot of vocal wailing and, well, a little bit of nonsense ("the hangman's got a hard-on"? What?). The guitar riffs range from fitting to brilliant, and the vocals range from barely fitting to... well, not so fitting, with the arrangements coming in to save everything that could have been mediocre, mostly because the string players are as great as the orchestration itself.

However, A Silver Mount Zion (and its subsequent encarnations) has never been about technical prowess, or even about singing in tune. 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons shows just how much good atmosphere creating can do for an album.

Every single segment has its own distinct atmosphere, with the repetitions and variations turning it all into a monolithic piece of the most liberal post-rock the world has seen in years, with the obvious high point at "Black Waters Blowed / Engine Broke Blues," the most atonal piece of the album, and probably the closest one to their previous sound. After all, that's their trademark. We can't disregard the erratic vocal work, since it does get in the way sometimes, but in "Black Waters Blowed" it seems to work perfectly, somehow. Tuneless singing has been another trademark for some albums, but it's a bit more in context here.

13 Blues is highly pretentious and, at the same time, highly down to Earth. But mostly, 13 Blues is a statement about post-rock and about music: "normal music just doesn't work." The progression was logical; after all, with their latest albums they made it obvious that their music's going to be vocal. That doesn't mean that they didn't manage to make it interesting, though. (8.9/10)

Some years ago, I jokingly said to a friend that a String Tribute to Mastodon was near. It might sound weird now, but back then Mastodon was the perfect metal band for people not into metal. It was also inhumanly bland, but that's a whole other chapter. Fight Amp is a throwback to those days where Mastodon reigned triumphant over the world of metal by not being metal enough (kind of like when Red Sparowes reigned over post-rock by not being post-rock enough, remember?). The surprising fact is that Fight Amp is like a good Mastodon. As in, a Mastodon with a more developed metal background, grunge, sludgecore and even punk influences, and an old-school metal feel.

While production and mixing are often just a detail when it comes to sludge, they are half the album here. Hungry for Nothing would be nothing if it weren't for the muddy, sludgy production that makes it sound like the band is playing live under the ground. Now, that doesn't mean the production isn't clear: you can still know who plays what. (People say "raw black metal production enhances atmosphere," but we all know that's a bullshit justification; only productions like this one enhance atmosphere).

So how's Fight Amp musically? Dissonant, dissonant, dissonant, groovy and heavy. Most of their songs alternate dissonant parts with some really heavy metal parts. While their technical proficiency is not so obvious, Hungry for Nothing is full of perfectly crafted riffs, original but fitting harmonies, and quite liberal usage of power chords. While it does sound like a crazy brand of grunge, it really isn't. In fact, it's much closer to not-so-grunge Nirvana's Bleach and sludge than it is to a Sub Pop album. Now, that doesn't mean that grunge fans won't like it.

Fight Amp's biggest selling point will be the fact that it can do many genres without turning into a cliche band of any of them. You'll hear Neurosis in there but Fight Amp is not a Neurosis clone, and you'll hear the typical Sub Pop sound but it's not anything the label would have released. In a way, it's a catch-all for the whole metal and alternative rock scenes, and, for once, it works. It won't shatter your mind into little pieces, it will just remind you of how good non-conformist metal can be. (7.9/10)

The nice thing about Swedish bastards 21 Lucifers is that they keep the length of the songs relatively short, so as not to bore the listener. Sure, 21 Lucifers is indeed a bizarre name for a band, as is the eclectic mix of death, thrash and random tidbits of black metal. However, the cocktail of debauchery and good old bone-crushing guitar riffs is a kick in the balls (or the female equivalent).

There are 21 tracks, to complement the name of the band, although the last three serve no other musical purpose. The very last track is just a recap of "Retaliation," with a few random screams and farting laughs. "5 Infernal Years" is a hide-and-seek game that counts up to 5.

There is an At the Gates sound hidden within the blueprint of this dirtiness. It is the dirtiness that adds a charm to the overall effect. Sure, bands like this tend to fall into a pattern of boredom, until their CDs are sold off for three cents in the Special Promotion section at record stores…but luckily, 21 Lucifers save their own asses with their strange medley.

"Violence" isn’t just — ahem — violent, but it is also melodic and rhythmic. The same can be said for "Greed Spreader," with its chunky vocals and headbanging riffs. The same for "Hope Fades," the same for "Self Pollution"… virtually all the songs have a melodic aspect.

"Broken" is an odd track, slower and more "emotional," with an interesting raspy ending that fades the song out…like the sound of a video cassette ending. The Faith No More ("Surprise! You’re Dead!") cover adds a colorful, somehow chirpy, touch.

Still, the sweetest thing is the compressed energy that the songs have. (7.6/10)

It seems that Vrolok has finally brought together the various elements of artistic creativity, technical skill, and sonic presentation to make Void, a remarkable, unusual, and worthwhile black metal album.

The vocals will strike most black metal fans as unorthodox, explained in simple terms as being a lower version of the black metal rasp, but in more artistic terms as conveying a fierce sense of uncleanliness, or perhaps the soundtrack to one undergoing torture at the hands of inquisitors. Between the vocal hideousness and the twisted music, Void often achieves a sense of writhing, straightjacket suffering. Vrolok achieves this by utilizing unusual elements such as  bizarre, creeping shuffle grooves, a very long intro of looping, tape-like scratches to open the album, and making associations of the more common fearsome black metal blasphemy with the latest method of sinister repugnance (think Funeral Mist or Deathspell Omega on these): featuring elements of sacred Christian music or scripture, but in a way that portrays it as a brutal, Medieval cult. The latter comes through in not only the inclusion of sacred chanting, but also the album’s artwork, which invokes a Christian stained-glass window.

It’s not all ugly all the time, though. There’s the chanting we mentioned, but also the opening to the title track, which sounds as if it were played on a hammered string instrument. Again, Vrolok implement this element well in how they make it fit in with the overall feeling of monolithic filth and sacred, sadistic cruelty that Void conveys.

Vrolok has got a firm hold on its art on this album, handling potentially dicey devices as taking upwards of five minutes of restrained buildup to get a song going, and punctuating the album with deliberate usage of plodding tempos interspersed by pockets of rage. Vrolok is patient in how it develops its arrangements, and it pays off. If you’re going to get into this band’s material, definitely start with Void. (8/10)

PS: It might be a good idea to get an interview with Void just to find out what the closing seconds of the record, with its sampled sounds of a seemingly old recording of a folky tune whose refrain bids "goodnight" to "Henri."

Zion is a Greek project that began over a decade ago in order to "create a transcended musical environment" for a poetry collection called "Thanatomenes Anases" (Deceased Breaths). As the title of the album suggests, the tracks deal with the legend of Dracula.

The music is full of melodic parts that suggest melancholy and despair, complete with forlorn female vocals, growling male vocals and synths. The visual imagery that arises as a result of songs like "Order of the Dragon" and "When Love Bleeds in Vain" is synonymous with a castle in the middle of the forest, men dressed in black velvet and damsels clad in corsets, their lips decorated with ruby red lipstick.

The charisma of the band lies in the fact that they try to deviate from the standard "Beauty and the Beast" bands by having activity within the guitar aspect of the music, in the form of guitar solos (e.g. "Drakula - the Son of the Devil") and intense guitar riffs (e.g. "Alone"). The 66th track is a "hidden" song from the first Zion album with Viridian Green. It is atmospheric, hinting at the blackest dawn.

The overall sound does tend to be a little muddled and at times difficult to follow. (6/10)

Hailing from the land down under, Airbourne are here to continue AC/DC’s legacy and to keep the spirit of rock ‘n roll as trashy as possible. Running Wild’s sound is loud and tempts the listener to dance around to it in drunken circles.

"Stand up for Rock ‘n Roll" begins with a repetitive guitar riff that accelerates and churns into a fantastic melody. Joel O’Keefe melts the ears as the addictive vulgarity of his vocals begin. Most songs seem to have been created to accommodate singing along, as each chorus unravels and entwines itself around the soundscape. The rhythm of the songs is as charming as it is festive. The lyrical themes tend to be "traditional," in the sense that they accommodate for parties, sex and living to the absolute maximum. "Cheap Wine & Cheaper Women," for instance, talks about frustrations with amorous encounters.

This album is a must-have for fans of old-school rock ‘n roll fans! (9/10)

Sick’s Agony is from Treviso, Italy, and consists of two members who call themselves Suffer and Blackhate. They also play in another band called Stromfrost (who released a new album just two months ago) and Suffer also plays in another one called Common Grave (who have an album out).

In Sick’s Agony, Blackhate plays the drums and Suffer does pretty much everything else. Depressive Instinct is a very short one at around 24 minutes. It features two songs plus an intro and a nine-minute outro. It’s very simple black metal rooted in a ‘90s tradition, played at a very slow pace.

The riffs are fairly generic: in minor and above all, very lazy. There is musically nothing new or innovative, but everything else in their presentation is true to BM style, including lyrics about fear, nihilism, loneliness and paranoia.

The only reason why people could be interested in this EP is because some listeners may like the recent albums from Stormfrost and Common Grave. Other than that it’s a fairly unremarkable release destined to sink back into the obscurity from whence it came. (5/10)

Judging by this rather short EP, The Stately Gentlemen have the potential of turning into the next big thing in rock circles. Quite simply, the band has a natural groove in the style of early Led Zeppelin combined with the ache of ‘90s grunge bands (but without the distortion).

"Fools That Linger" opens with a boogie styled piano, shortly followed by direct, jagged vocals and then some clean guitar chords, introducing the band's classic sound — a sound so rare these days.

But having the most organic sound isn't enough. In fact, it requires the band to be tight and the songs to be more appealing, and in the case of The Stately Gentlemen, the band is ultra tight and the straightforward songs are well crafted and immediate.

"I'll Be Misled" features busy bass work teamed with a delightful electric guitar that pronounces the imprint of Jimmy Page in the most direct fashion heard for some time. "Visions of Emily" is more reflective, with some more Page-influenced playing, this time on the acoustic guitar.

"Maybe It's Love" is a swinging number, celebrated with some sweeping harmonica, and with vocals that bring Tom Petty to mind. The closing "Behind the Smile" is founded on acoustic chords, and benefits from an intimate vocal performance that is parallel to Kurt Cobain’s "Unplugged" performance.

The earthly matters of the songs and their honest and humble delivery is simply inspiring, leaving hope that The Hyperion Sessions won't be the last heard of The Stately Gentlemen, and that when the band is given the full album treatment, it will remain just as authentic. (8/10)

The metal sphere is usually centered on European or American bands, yet there is a vast array of groups that exists in the underground from countries that some of us don’t even know exist. The Armenian genocide may have given a sad flair to the word "Armenia," and music that one hears on this record makes sure to draw on the melancholy and the morbid.

The instrumental first track, "Once a Rainy Solitude," sets a somber mood that withers around the rest of the record. Most tracks have hints of an atmospheric doom/black metal influence, stemming from Ihsahn’s recent work and older Emperor material.

The atmosphere created is that of a dark raven sitting on a tree overlooking a scene of silence, before the storm.

The singer does a good job with his clean vocals, disseminating the shadows with aptitude. Listen to "Church Obliteration" to get a feel of that. "I Am of Night" has some good guitar riffs that are complemented by an "orchestral" background.

"Yearning" is another instrumental song, one that speaks the story of a million days gone by without a single drop of happiness in one’s life. "Tended High" has a burst of violence, anger even…that is soothed by the keyboard’s melodies.

In the vein of Anathema, "Nothing Lasts" predicts of an eternal depression that one must conquer. Guitar strings that speak the heart’s sorrow.

The sound quality on the record is decent and the songs are perfectly depressing. Besides, it’s nice to see another country get added to the exploding global metal scene.

Oh, and by the way, this band is not to be confused with the Norwegian Sworn. (7.4/10)

The biggest star of Shining’s fifth record is the production. It’s huge, rich, and teeming with organic depth. Shining’s music and instrumentation comes across as uncomplicated, but the nuance of every instrument, from the beefy kick drum, to the enveloping bass guitar, to the delicate snare rolls, to the lush violin sections all abound with gorgeous sonic presentation, making the thunderous first kick of the bass drum, alongside a black metal vocal kick to the gut just as texturally exciting as the crisp, reverberant piano sections.

It’s within this superb quality that V: Halmstad stands out, as organic, acoustic nuance, like on the piano rendition of Beethoven’s "Moonlight Sonata." It is here, though, that Shining stumbles in its choices. Using famous classical pieces that are so often heard that they border on triteness in one’s original music can come off as contrived. And although the rendition here is as wonderful-sounding (and thankfully, at least it isn’t a sound clip from another recording), its presence alone is slightly dubious, something made all the more so by the would-be depressive vocals that rather come off as goony, random moans and mumbles.

This is the worst part of Halmstad — the voice clips. Shining has always been about depression. Certainly the music on V reflects that, but it would be better if the band avoided conveying that via spoken clips from movies (that appear within the songs) and concentrated more on expressing themselves through their music. Besides, the section or two where a clip appears would be far more poignant without the clips (as good as they are). As it is, the marriage of the two comes across as forced and heavy-handed, which is in stark contrast to the great care that was taken in crafting the rest of the album’s sonic presentation.

If you’re a returning Shining fan, you’ll notice that the music has slowed down a great deal from the couple albums that featured Hellhammer on drums. The sound is tailored to fit this stylistic change, and is clearly superior to the previous album, IV, The Eerie Cold. The music itself feels well put together and quite mature, altough like on IV, the album ends with a feeling of incompletion. (7.5/10)

When was the last time you heard a black metal debut that was raw? No, like really, really raw and in your face, but nonetheless listenable and appealing?

There are seldom productions on which the lo-fi factor is particulary beneficial to the actual music. Apparently there was one such release last year from a one-man band under the name of Aska (not to be confused with the US band from Texas). After a demo and two split releases he thought it was time to unleash a first full-length on Total Holocaust Records, which certainly isn’t the home of the least worthy in black metal.

The seven-track album may be a short one of just about 34 minutes, but it’s remarkable for its skullscraping qualities. You might not want it to be twice as long.

Expect bone-dry minimalism and lo-fi chord simplicity in the tradition of Von, Mayhem and Burzum. Pisk Sattygh, the man behind Aska, previosly had a band called Demoriel who put out just one demo and vanished into oblivion. More interesting was a black metal collaboration with one Xardas from Lebanon (!), with whom he had a Von-inspired project called Veinen (named after a Von song).

The vocals of Pisk Sattygh are something of a raw guttural shriek being screamed with an intensity of a madman cutting himself with a razor knife before being sucked dry by a zombie crawling out of a mattress. They also seem a tip to the hat to contemporary black metal heroes like Malefic from Xasthur (who is also mentioned in Aska’s list of honour). According to a wellknown metal online-shop, the album was in fact mixed and mastered by Malefic! What more could one want? A seal of approval by the Necro Society?

The titles and lyrics are all in Swedish, so the subjects can only be guessed at. Although "Undergang" must mean Downfall, "Nattsaga" probably means Nightsaga and "Draken," well, must be Dragon.

The melodic songs have the simplest imaginable black metal chord-progressions and the distorted drums, well, they’re just there to keep the pace, nothing virtuosic or spectacular.

The extreme noise drills its way into the subconscious like sonic streams of lava and somehow strikes a nerve in a way that seems very pure and frightening at the same time.

If Aska had an output as productive as Xasthur’s, there would be much said about the project, but this little album could be the starting point of something. Whether that be a kvlt path or a path into oblivion, well, that’s too early to tell. And up to Pisk. But his connections and signs are there. (6.5/10)

The amalgamation of metal and industrial is still a relative rarity. Although rooted within the death / black / doom metal genre, Azure Emote incorporates elements of industrial, noise, trance, and techno into the mix, striving to give each song its own unique, eclectic, apocalyptic and experimental feel. Inspired by bands such as Bethlehem, Ulver, Dead Can Dance, Laibach, and Kovenant, this music is A mix of avant-garde experimental industrial deathmetal.

Azure Emote is an experimental project from Philadelphia created by Mike Hrubovcak, who has a history of playing in several death metal bands like Vile, Monstrosity and Divine Rapture. Hrubovcak takes care of (most of) the vocals (screams, growls, grunts), electronic arrangements, samples, keyboards, drum machine, flute, maracas, and straw (straw? - ed.)

The two other main musicians that believed in Azure Emote enough to become full-time contributors are Ryan Moll (guitar and bass) and Patrick Battaglia (drums). They have worked together in

Solace in the Shadows and Evil Divine. All three of them have been in a horror thrash metal band called Rumpelstiltskin Grinder.

Hrubovcak designed logos and album covers for many bands, like the aforementioned Rumpelstiltskin Grinder, Imperial Crystalline Entombment, Mortician (US), and many more.

Epidemie Records proudly announces that Chronicles of an Aging Mammal is one of the first "industrial death metal" albums to "actually become what it has set out to be, and does it in as brutal yet melodic a fashion as possible." This claim, however, is somewhat debatable.

Over a period of three years, this project, having started late 2003, was recorded, mixed and mastered by Ron Vento (from Aurora Borealis) at Nightsky Studios. Little doubt it must have been a painstaking job.

Chronicles of an Aging Mammal has lots of ear-hostile bleep-bleeps to confuse and / or annoy you. It begins like a death metal merry-go-round where growls, processed vocals and movie sound samples change places at random. There’s lots of breaks and start-stop-starts in sometimes fast paced drum attacks.

Over the course of the album the electronics start to play a role of increasing importance. The guitars become less prominent, but the growls and grunts remain present until the end. For the sake of alienation, there are at some point also sweet and lush opera-esque female vocals, done by Laurie Ann Haus from Todesbonden and Autumn Tears. In general, her contributions have some added value to experimentation, but on a song like "March of the Chemical Pessimism," she is at some point (3:32) singing in a style detestable like no other: whinnying! I’d have her thrown off a high city wall for that were it that she doesn’t do this constantly and she’s only guesting, but otherwise…

Obviously, there is nothing conventional about Chronicles of an Aging Mammal. But just like one may be fascinated by the mish-mash of styles on this album, it’s just as easy to wonder how one could become entirely captured by such a difficult work.

However, there is much humour to be found on Chronicles of an Aging Mammal, if only for the incredibly funny artwork with the underlying message that the archievements of our modern times can’t disguise the fact that in terms of cosmic time ,humanity has been around only since yesterday. We are nothing but destructive apes, architects of our own demise, praying for salvation or enlightment from divine powers, yet being unable to exist in harmony with what some call Creation. The dead-end situation created by humanity is — like one title points out — a Justified End.

Funny? Well…no, but…yes, in the way Hrubovcak depicts this tragedy. This apocalypse-inspired album is well summarized in the lyrics of the final song, "Demetia (Reflections of the Elderly and Infirmed)": "What is Morality? Realism or Pessimism…stripped of passion. Alive. Nothing but chemical. Every animal can smell its own distinction… extinction."

Such a line is not entirely devoid of some destructive nihilism, and this is well reflected by the chaotic nature of Chronicles of an Aging Mammal. In that sense, Azure Emote has become quite a successful experiment.

And yet, is it pleasant to listen to? The answer is no. Should you listen to this album if you like the usual death metal sounds? Again the answer is no. But if you like crazy and well fucked-up albums aimed for those simply seeking something mind-challenging and extreme, join this march of chemical pessimism. It’s one of the more colourful bleak concept albums to have appeared in the first half of this year. This album deserves a rating that’s no less than "Virus S.T.N." from Diapsiquir (also in this issue). (7/10)

Swedish band Dead Man make sentimental songs with a heavy emphasis on the sound of ‘70s rock.

Aside from a traditional band line-up, there are also several folky instruments featured on their second album, Euphoria, like a mandolin, a lap steel guitar, a violin and a transversal flute. If the combination of tranquil ‘70s folk and dreamy rock seems interesting to you, like when having a screaming hangover and don’t feel like killing yourself even more with aural metal violence, this might be worth giving a spin. Otherwise skip this review A.S.A.P.

Euphoria strongly recalls how Neil Young’s earlier albums, such as On the Beach, Tonight’s the Night, and Zuma sound. Part of this association with those albums comes from the fact that many songs are never really happy, even if they appear as such.

The carefully crafted compositions, as well as the astonishingly authentic sounding pseudo-‘70s production — especially with regard to bass and drums — are the strong points on Euphoria.

For one listener this may be endurable for being charmfully clumsy, for another one it may be deadly annoying for the duration of an entire album.

There is a 56-second short instrumental on acoustic guitar called "From a Window," and a catchy outro tune of 96 seconds, but there are also more challenging songs that are considerably longer, like the 9:12 minute-long "The Wheel," starting with a nice and gloomy atmospheric intro.

Euphoria is by all means an lovingly crafted and inspired album that never gets repetitious. Sure, the vocals on the album require a bit of an acquired taste, but when being used to them there can be little reason not to like this album. (7/10)

Karoshi is a Japanese phenomenon, and it means "death from overwork." It is occupational sudden death and the major medical causes of karoshi deaths are heart attack and stroke due to stress. Dead Shape Figure may be from Finland, but it surely seems like they want to work their balls off to show the world what they’ve learned from their heroes of yesteryear.

It’s a bit of a dilemma, as on one hand questions may arise about the nescessity of rehashing ‘80s thrash metal and why the genre should remain restricted within the stylistic spectrum hailing from an era when the bandmembers were born or still very tiny. On the other hand, there can be no denying the great potential that is evident from this debut album. Even though they are a relatively new band, Dead Shape Figure’s brand of thrashmetal sounds so familiar that The Grand Karoshi already feels like a re-release of a classic album. Just listen to the guitar solos in "Remington Lucifer"and you might feel like stepping into a nostalgia time machine going back 10-15 years ago.

Such dedication to a feel of authenticity is something you’ll be more willing to accept instead of dismissing it as merely another re-invention of the wheel.

As most of the songs come thundering by like a relentless turbo steamroller, it’s the last song, "Perinde Ac Cadaver," that ends the album on a different and mystical note, starting with a quiet oriental percussion intro, then laying down a catchy slow hammer groove similar in the manner of Pro-Pain. The chorus is decorated with solemn sounds of what seems like a small choir from the Caucasus. Over this come some woeful, high note vocals reminiscent of System of a Down. It’s a most peculiar way to end such a ferocious album, but…Dead Shape Figure get away with it. Retro-thrash with a twist, it is.

Nostalgia in extremo. A fist firmly planted with full-blown confidence in the face of emo nonsense. Nice, fierce and brutal. No need for further analysis. (7.5/10)

Elffor comes from the Biscay province of Spain, and play ambient black metal. The re-issue of Son of Shades sees a re-recording of all the songs from the original issue, includes two new songs, and a 12-page booklet and new cover artwork that scream black metal.

The sound on this re-issue is much more powerful than on the original release. This is most obvious when comparing the old and new version of the song "Infernal Woods."

Elffor describes its music as medieval black ambient. It seems to owe much of its inspiration to acts like Summoning. In contrast, the music of Elffor has more emphasis on a narrative and dreamy atmosphere, instead of grandiose epic tales of heroes and battle. However, the fact that most of Son of the Shades sounds like a stripped-down version of Summoning, circa 2000, the relevance of re-issuing the album is dubious. Then again, if you like Summoning’s dreamy soundscapes, you will not be disappointed.

However, six years after Son of the Shades was first released, Elffor is no doubt capable of much more.

There are actually two bonus tracks on this album that were recorded at the end of 2007, namely "Hidden in the Nebular Landscapes" and "Endless Dark Flames." They were composed around the time of the album.

The former begins with keyboards sounding terribly dated and fit for some PC RPG game (the risk of electronic interpretations of medieval instruments) and even though being fully captured by the context in which they play is appealing, the actual experience of listening to this is rather very silly.

The only saving grace of this album is the second bonus track, which does manage to convey a sense of melancholy and desolation that tingles the imagination. With its woeful, wordless clean vocals and the sounds of a cold wind in the mountains, a melody of well-chosen, mournful keyboard sounds is able to conjure images where almost any other previous track fails to do so. The only pity is unnecessary addition of someone sobbing, as such theatrics do little but distracts from the delicate atmosphere so carefully constructed by the instruments.

All complaints notwithstanding, some people will be intrigued by this keyboard-driven, atmospheric black metal. Play Son of the Shades in the background while you carry on with your "Baldur’s Gate" quest, because that’s what it is: background music. Not too good, not too bad. (5/10)

Virus STN is the second full-length album of French industrial black metal orchestra Diapsiquir. Their Necrocosm label has the vision of "anti-moralistic art for anti-conformism," so if you’re expecting anything easy or intelligible, search elsewhere.

No corpsepainted dudes here, but a vocalist with an anarchist mohawk and faces on dodgy black and white photographs like mug-shots from an obscure terror group, which does not seek to "entertain" you, but rather to contaminate you. Their V.I.R.U.S. stands for "Venin Intemporel Rouille Universelle Satan" which means "timeless venom, rust universal: Satan." They do not want their music to be about evil, they want to represent it. In that sense their attitude is painted in the blackest of black.

The album starts with a rendition of Tchaikovsky’s "Romeo & Juliette," with the addition of techno beats. Gradually dissonant electronic sounds mix in, as do occasional fragments of French spoken parts. The result is disturbing and unsettling. Track two contains the first hint of metal with neurotic screams and electronically triggered blastbeats.

Vocalist Toxik sounds like a madman screaming in the crowd, lost in a sphere of anti-conscience. It’s a kind of evil that is more mundane as ventilated through hatred, disgust and rejection. A kind that deals with inner chaos and madness, but... how much madness can you take?

The artwork of Virus STN conveys the feeling that true evil is out on the urban streets, with all the filth and dirt in every corner. Of slums and dope deals on the stairs to the subway. Of all the resignation, acceptance and indifference towards the sickness all around.

Track three is scratchy vinyl sounds with spooky piano tunes. The horrible sound of a parrot being raped attempts to carjack your attention from the madman’s ravings. Track four is a piano interlude of 30 seconds. Track five is a massive 12-minute piece, which initially drags like a living corpse until the halfway point when suddenly all sorts of things are going berserk in an eclectic storm of neurotic samples, screams and industrial metal that will choke you through the ears and brain.

Track six has some hilarious hints to the keytune of "The Godfather" before another gunfight of insanity breaks loose. The mob of the Horns, as it seems, with electronic blastbeats scattered around like shrapnel.

If Virus STN aimed to be a manifesto of fucked-upness then it has succeeded in this extremely well by using inner turmoil and the failures of society as a metaphor for Satan. Whichever way you look at it, Diapsiquir’s music is in a world that exists in its own right. It is with no doubt original, even when questioning why one would voluntary listen to this disc all the way through, as complicated and little accessible as it is.

It’s cacophonic, schizophrenic and seemingly all-encompassing, like evil itself. The last track evolves around a melancholic Russian folksong so heart-wringing it would make baby Jesus cry. It serves as a chilling epilogue to an already incredible epos of hopelessness. Recommended for those not afraid of French neurotic technometalnoise and negativity beyond comprehension. (7/10)

It doesn't take just great ideas to create a good album. Most bands with just great ideas end up making one or two good albums by mistake and then, in the best possible case, it all ends there. Bands need to materialize those good ideas into something enjoyable (and we’re including "purposefully destroying your tympani as 'enjoyable'") as well.

Take The Mars Volta as an example. Great ideas, a brilliant first album, but it all went downhill from there. Their improvisation skills are still as awesome as they ever were, they are technically great without being standard, and they are obviously more experienced than they were during their At the Drive In period, so why are their newer albums so boring? Weak songwriting.

Really, you can fuck around all you want, but if you can't compose by whatever means necessary, then you can't play. That, or you'll have to improvise the whole album.

Select a Gather Point is an awesome album that’s only half-baked. In its core, it's American rock with blues-based rhythms, vocals at the same level of guitars and not over them, but they end up sounding just like a less punk (and much worse) version of NoMeansNo. The ideas behind it could have been the base for a great album, but the generic songwriting makes it just another album. The whole "let's base our music on original, southern-ish but catchy riffs" backfired, since their riffs are just kind of original and definitely not catchy.

There are loads of interesting chord progressions and other harmonic elements hinting at some serious talent, but we just don't see it here. Melodies range from "wooo, awesome!" to "eh...ok," so the album itself is a mixed bag, with almost every song containing both great parts and filler. And since we humans lack the ability to just weed out the sucky parts, we're stuck with something not really enjoyable.

On the other hand, Select a Gather Point was recorded by a power trio, so the essential aspects of it are undoubtedly there. The bassist doesn't play exactly what the guitarist does, they complement each other while the drums often accentuate the correct parts. Again, it's technically correct, but undermined as it is it doesn't matter that much.

But that's the point. Select a Gather Point strives to be original but ends up being a correct album that could have been summarized in 15 minutes and it would have been much better. (5.4/10)

Hellveto, The project of a single soul, L.O.N, is obscure and sublime. The Pagan elements illuminate the emotional scape of the music, speaking to the listener through forces beyond human reasoning. While the style of this somber creation can be described as symphonic black metal, it is far from the pompous, epic paroxysm of Dimmu Borgir and the likes. Hellveto is humble and has a more realistic approach to the symphonic aspects.

In the Glory of Heaven has a sad note to it, since it is slow and slithering on the surface of the atmosphere, like blood dripping on a battlefield. "Baltic Tale" has transcendental melodies that are not over-done and merge smoothly with the rest of the musical traits.

"Last Moments…" is an instrumental, acoustic projection of nostalgia, melancholy, joy and the feeling of living out your memories before they even become memories. "In the Depth of Red Sky" and "Thousand Years of Slavery" are more subtle black metal tracks, with a slightly more subdued tone. The album ends beautifully with another instrumental track entitled "My Hymn from Carpathian Mountains," which suggests the sensation of isolation, as one walks near high-topped mountains of a captivating land, far away from the atrocities of urban cities.

Hellveto risks being compared to Burzum; it is inevitable. However, there is great difference between them and Hellveto is individual in its own specific way. (7.8/10)

How many bands can you name that haven't ever repeated themselves? Maybe four or five, I'm guessing. The whole "you must please the same audience over and over again" precept was installed quite a long time ago for rock musicians; you could even say that it exists since the first rock bands started playing. After all, even the most scandalous, rebel and avant-garde groups repeat their own theories far more than they should. Yet, Boris has always been the perfect example of a band that has never gotten stale, that has always tried to reach as many genres as possible.

To talk about a "Boris style" would seem illogical, but if you've heard enough Boris, you should identify the band on Smile, their latest album, without me telling you that. And it's not that you recognize what they play, because they've done acoustical post-rock/drone epics (the whole of Flood), about five kinds of really different stoner rock (Akuma no Uta, Pink) or even drone (Absolutego, Feedbacker). And somehow, they manage to come up with new things all the time, from collaborations with Merzbow and Sunn O))) to... Smile.

Smile isn't the best they've done, but that's kind of like saying "oh, it's not the most technical Yngwie Malmsteen solo ever." If you need to get any information from this review, if you're analyzing whether you should buy it or not, it's this: Smile is a Boris album in every sense. If you like everything Boris, you’ll like Smile.

Stylistically, Smile is Boris’ most complex yet. Smile is not a stoner rock album, it's not post-rock, it's not doom, it's not drone and it's not metal. It's a mix of all those, but it's none of them, either. Smile is highly emotional, but it's not melodramatic, it's heavy but it's not ugly, and it's atmospheric but it's not just ambience. If that series of almost contradictions might confuse, but Smile's not your typical "hey, this is *insert genre* metal!" album.

Do know that, even if it's an influence, Smile is _not_ a metal album. It's actually much closer to ‘70s japanese psych rock, mixed with so-called Group Sounds. So much that they included a hard to digest but otherwise brilliant PYG cover with Michio Kurihara of Ghost as guest. The fact that Michio Kurihara is just a guest should tell you about their own qualities as musicians.

Smile, however, suffers a bit from the weak production and from a slightly forgettable approach, even with the much catchier melodies, being one of their most eclectic releases to date. Go past the first listen and you'll find that Smile could have been as great as Pink if Boris had used a more cohesive sound and a more standard production. It's clear, however, that they went for an even more unusual sound this time and that most of it is intentional. But it's ok, Pink, Flood and Akuma no Uta will be hard to top, and they don't even care about them anymore.

Even more surprising than Boris’ ability to keep evolving is their ability to live up to the hype they create. Every single indie hipster and their mother know Boris nowadays, yet they don't create music just for those fans. Hell, they don't seem to create music for fans, thankfully. Yet another great Boris album, how surprising. (8.2/10)

Electric Wizard has always been an oddity in the not-so-vast world of stoner/doom. Not because they are especially... well, odd, but because they always managed to take something done already, recycle it, and turn it into something both grand and brain-melting.

Their pre-Witchcult Today work could be split in two: their more traditional stoner era and the stoner/doom with a progressive edge era, Dopethrone being the culmination of the former and We Live the culmination of the latter. Witchcult Today is neither. It's half their own Self titled album’s evident Black Sabbath worship, half their own Let Us Prey's boundary-pushing usage of modern stoner/doom elements mixed with non-standard songwriting.

Reviewing Witchcult Today is a pain in the ass. It's not that it's hard to analyze or anything like that, but it's radically different quality-wise from anything they've done. Some might disagree, but every single Electric Wizard release but this one has been a classic. Up until now, they've been one of the few perfect stoner/doom bands, the biggest reference for post-Busse Woods (Acid King's Busse Woods, that is) stoner/doom. Witchcult Today is undoubtedly great, but it's far from what made Dopethrone, Chrono.Naut and We Live instant classics.

What’s good about Electric Wizard? Riffs, great vocals, riffs, the single most stoner atmosphere since Sleep's Dopesmoker, riffs, riffs and more riffs. They are all still there, even though most riffs aren't precisely We Live material. Witchcult Today is a good album, it's a great album, it's an album that will make you headbang and enjoy the pounding riffs and the dopey vocals.

But... the problem is clear: where every new Electric Wizard so far represented either a big change or a more extreme version of a previous album (compare Dopethrone to Come My Fanatics, or We Live to Let Us Prey), Witchcult Today comes off as just a really good mix of their previous two eras. No one would have expected a throwback album from them, but here it is, and it comes across as a disappointment.

But it's good, but it's just not nearly as memorable as anything else by them. Some parts will have you saying "Hey! That's it" but just some minutes later, a filler riff will come and you'll be wishing they had ended the track before that (which isn't what Electric Wizard had us used to). Also, and this is a big issue, the drums sound horrible. It's not the drumming itself (their drummers have always been great, really), it's just the fact that the production is obviously emphasizing the vocals and letting the drums drown. It’s a poor choice, especially considering that Electric Wizard's backbone has always been the rhythm segment.

Anyway, don't think Witchcult Today sucks or anything like that. It's great, it's fun and it'll make you love stoner doom if you don't already, just not as much as Electric Wizard’s back catalogue will. Still recommendable to anyone who has already heard their other albums. It's a good throwback album, it's just that we aren't used to Electric Wizard throwback albums. The revolutionary Electric Wizard is better, though. (7.9/10)

Face it: black metal / doom is usually retarded. Mostly because bands who mix those two genres usually mix the worst part of each: funeral doom's tendency to be boring to everyone but the band, and black metal's tendency to throw harmony and counterpoint (even in the broadest senses of the word) out of the window. So you're usually left with a slow version of the crappiest teenager bedroom black metal project possible. Having said that, Highgate is one of the few exceptions.

First of all, Highgate doesn't do the same thing twice. Even if it's just one (really long) track, it's not like they just repeated the same song five times and mixed it together, there's actual evolution, stylistic changes, tempo changes, buildup, all that. While the start is a long doom metal segment, the part around 29:30 is a faster Saint Vitus and some parts are slow screamo-ish City of Caterpillar-like bits. The black metal influence is mostly "suicidal" black metal, like a less crazy and not Swedish Silencer, but it's not as strong as the doom one. And when we say doom, we mean "every single subgenre of doom," from funeral to traditional and stoner.

The main point Highgate has over pretty much every single black metal / doom band is the fact that they don't really abuse tremolo picking and blastbeats nearly as much as your average black metal influenced band. The bad part, however, is that when they do use them, the technical flaws are evident, with sloppy picking and some misplaced chords here and there. So, their main problem is technical, but not fundamental.

While it's obvious Highgate isn't a masterpiece, it really is above most black / doom bands. With some superb harmonic constructions, inhuman vocals (of the shrieky kind), good drum programming and many great ambient interludes, Highgate manages, for the most part, to hide their technical shortages in an overall satisfying album, but with a strong amateur flavor. (7.1/10)

It is hard to be original today. Harder yet to be avant-garde, especially when it comes to metal. Yet here is this band The Horn, from Australia, with a wonderful idea. Music that is influenced by the mystical world of Ancient Egypt. Yes, Nile’s done it, but in a savage manner that takes the life out of people. The Horn, however, does it in a more obscure, atmospheric way.

The music is downright startling. Although it may be placed into the same category as other atmospheric acts, The Horn is distinct in its own special way.

There are a number of enigmatic aspects to The Horn. The mystical influence, the underproduced style of the music, the surrealism of the notes, the atmosphere of secrecy…and of course, the fact that it is difficult to find a lot of information about the band. Like the secrets of the Ancient fathers, the Horn has buried itself deep into the intangible universe of the Dead.

The enchantment of the beauty of Osiris, King of the Gods is propagated through the vessel of eternity, The Horn. The music speaks, yet is silent. A dogma that is only heard by those who are granted with the gift. Hail, Serpent.

The tunes themselves are faint, it’s almost as though one can image the heat of the sun as it blinds the one looking up at the Sun God’s realm. The Lord of Wind, a gentle breeze that passes through wisps of air as the snake moves closer through the grains of sand.

Adopt the path of wisdom. Listen to the mesmerizing melodies that wrap themselves around you like dusk. (9.2/10)

The introductory track on Infernaeon’s A Symphony of Suffering is of a symphonious nature, aptly titled "Shades of Obscurity," which features gloomy synths that suggest impending doom. The synths persist throughout the rest of the album, imbuing the ears with a crepuscular devilry.

The majority of the songs contain a form of emptiness, and it makes one wonder whether it is deliberate or not. "Embodiment of Sin" contains an old-school death metal blueprint, peppered with keyboards. At times, the drums do not sound as forceful as they should, and at others, the guitar risks sounding too low. "Sleeping God" sounds somewhat eclectic, with its creepy keyboards and the peculiarity of the guitars following the third minute. "Oracle of Armageddon" features the guest vocals of Ben Falgoust (Soilent Green, Goatwhore) and Keith DeVito (Catastrophic, Pyrexia), as well as fast-paced guitars that intensely propel their way through the song.

"March of Death" begins somewhat slowly, but then accelerates and dives into an intense ocean of chaos. The beginning of "AIDS (Annihilating the Inner Decay of Species)" is charged with a floating keyboard sound that is abruptly cut after the first minute as the music transforms into old school thrash / death metal and remains that way until the end, randomly pierced by squeling guitar solos.

As far as the sound of the album goes, it is not too shabby for a debut. While the pedestrian quality of the music is unremarkable, the album does have some good guitar riffs. Of course, the synths may be a problem for some. (5.5/10)

Neuraxis seems to have a rep of being technical death metal, but with more of a melodic sense. If that’s the case, then reference Neuraxis’ previous album, Trilateral Progression, to which The Thin Line Between pales in comparison.

The Thin Line Between sounds just as big (perhaps bigger) but it comes across as uninspired. It’s not a matter of a major element that leads to this result, but rather a procession of minor inferior aspects that compound themselves into a wholly average and forgettable album.

Elements such as a much weaker melodic sense, a guitar tone that, although big, sounds stagnant, song tempos and dynamics that sound just as stagnant as the guitar tone, and more single-minded approach to tonality and mood are important culprits. Others are vocals that are presented with too much importance considering they are of little interest, and arrangements with little to no real dynamics that make the songs as bland as bland can be. The last two are in stark contrast to Trilateral Progression. Finally, there isn’t a single memorable riff or progression on The Thin Line Between, sadly leaving it as a well-put together album of boring music. (5/10)

Screamo, or should we say, actual emo, has always been relegated to the background. After all, it's not really punk, it's not really hardcore and it's not really rock. Or, maybe, it relegated itself to the background, with really short tracks, atonal riffing and the whole "sentimental screaming" stuff, but also with really short and hard to find releases, vinyls and whatnot.

Screamo-influenced music, however, did make it to the mainstream. We've seen countless not-really-emo, pop-punk bands sell millions of copies (My Chemical Romance, anyone?), but has Rites of Spring, City of Caterpillar or even Saetia (to mention the most well-known ones) ever been mentioned anywhere near mainstream? Not really.

Pure screamo is something that most people assume it means "Underoath" or "Lamb of God," but the actual meaning of screamo is lost somewhere in between. The same thing happens to post-rock. Most people assume that there are some few post rock bands and all are comprised of Godspeed You Black Emperor members. They even assume it's only tremolo picking on top of random harmonics.

Envy has been pretty much the only exception so far, since they've been the target of a whole lot of "indie" hype. You haven't heard about them in "Rolling Stone," but you've certainly heard about them, considering you don't live under a rock, on indie magazines, music blogs or any information-revolution-era kind of thing. And Envy deserve all that hype. They really are the new face of screamo they are hyped to be. It's a fresh, emotional and even fun mix of screamo, post-rock and a certain metal sound that often crosses over to post-hardcore territory. That definition makes it sound like something really boring, but don't be misled into thinking that.

Their sound has always been epic. If World's End Girlfriend and Mono were battalions, then Abyssal is the whole Mongolian army prepared to siege a city.

Everything starts as a single melody and ends up building itself a monolithic song out of it. Abyssal is melodically minimalistic but freaking huge harmonically, and describing them as a "wall of sound" kind of band wouldn't be enough most of the time.

One of Envy's many talents is their masterful tact for knowing where to break the flow with a sudden fast part, and how to manage typical post-rock crescendos into a largely screamo-based sound. In other words, their ability to create something new out of seemingly unrelated (and on their own, sometimes neglected) genres.

Abyssal, as with every single one of Envy’s releases, follows the same principles they've used up until now. Not to say they are overly formulaic (in fact, that new Jesu / Envy split should tell you otherwise), but you get to know their sound with just some tracks, which is why Abyssal is as good of an example as any of their releases, but people who can't stand Envy won't stand it either. (8/10)

If Embryonic Devourment really were the reptilians they speak of, devouring the Earth in their debut album, Fear of Reality Exceeds Fantasy, then many would hope the Earth wins, while possibly sparing the band’s guitarist.

The debut album by this band may be a reason why Embryonic Devourment could sign up for vocal lessons rather than try to represent reptiles attempting to growl. Perhaps this was a concept not worth considering?

This was to be expected, though. A song from their EP, entitled "Beheaded by Volition," may have spoken for itself. In the song, a fine piece of guitar / drum music is interlaced over reptilian sounding growls and other extraterrestrial sounds in scream-o form.

After releasing the EP, the band was noted in publications such as Pit Magazine, Metal Maniacs, Terrorizer, Metal Pages, and Bast Magazine, which gave them some popularity.

Perhaps the attention was hard to manage however, and listening to a full disk of more of the same might prove why giant reptilians possibly died off in a cataclysmic meteor hit. Even God was pissed-off at them.

As with the EP, the guitar work of Lauren Pike mixed with some good driving drumming from Luke Boutiette may be the only things that save this album. The song "Fear of Reality Exceeds Fantasy" takes the listener on an intense power dive into varying riffs which are likely dizzying to an innocent bystander.

The driving force of the guitar and drums is evident in "Self-Inflicted Cesarean," yet so are the vocals you cannot quite ignore.

The power-up to the start of "Eating the Flesh of Gods" is hopeful, though killed by the immediate vocals once again. Keep listening though, if you can, and you’ll be able to head-bang your way through a twisting song of quick pulses mixed with strong guitar variance proving how the axe can really be wielded.

A fairly unusual change-up is introduced in the middle of "Human Harvest," and the listener may want the break from the vocals to continue as the guitarist dominates the song. However, if a metal fan measures guitarist strength by the length of a guitar solo, that listener will be sorely disappointed throughout the entire album.

The guitar change-ups continue in the next song, "Craniopagus Parasiticus," though an intense guitar solo never breaks through once again.

Using the band’s description, the band "reach[es] into the sickest, most insane level of brutal musicianship on a overtly technical level [combined with] blaringly high-sped drumming, and Vo-kills to shred the senses."

The technical precision work of the guitars is evident. But with that aside, the sound of this band is uninviting except to only the most particular kind of metal listeners. (5/10)

Sevdah is, so we’re informed, a traditional genre of Bosnian folk music akin to the blues, and Sevdah Metal is the debut solo release by Bosnian guitarist Emir Hot, who cleverly harnessed the vocal talents of John West (ex-Royal Hunt, Artension) and the drum work of Mike Terrana (Masterplan, Axel Rudi Pell, Artension) for the execution of his speedy, neo-classical metal-styled material.

The production, by Emir Hot himself, sounds a bit amateur and primitive by today's standards, feeling like an ‘80s Cacophony release, with a mix that favors the lead instruments (mostly the guitars) on top of anything else, and emphasizes treble on account of a fuller bodied sound. We do feel ambivalent about the production, though, as there are advantages to being unrefined, and the album indeed benefits some impact from sounding crude.

West performs the songs here with great force, sounding rawer and less polished here compared to his last studio engagement with Royal Hunt (2005’s Paper Blood), as if he was experiencing a reverse process to adjust himself to the nature of this release (you usually expect a singer to have a more immediate and fresh tone early in his career and witness him become more fully rounded as he grows). West's vocal range is demonstrated throughout, with some shrieking falsetto (sounding a bit like Skid Row's Sebastian Bach at times. Check out "Stand and Fight"), some sweeping, gutsy delivery (using his throat to rasp things a bit) and then some tender moments... all sounding genuinely virgin.

The rhythm work is quite simple, contributing nothing more than the basic sense of rhythm (perhaps this is the result of the limiting production). Luckily, the album is packed with plenty of great leads and innovative melodic work to make up for this lack of depth.

Marvelous neo-classical moves are demonstrated straight from the first song ("Devils in Disguise") and become even more impressive when they are later infused with Hot's Balkan roots, as illustrated on "Sevdah Metal Rhapsody" — a nearly 12-minute medley of traditional Balkan songs (with English lyrics by Hot) that blend accordion, keyboards and guitars in eastern European scales (occasionally in such a magnificent unison that it's hard to distinguish the instruments), and then acoustic guitars in Mediterranean scales.

A curiosity is the melody of the final song (which follows a redundant drum solo) — a melody that shamelessly resembles "Stairway to Heaven" (have we missed out on the fact that the Led Zeppelin song was actually based on a Balkan folk tune?).

While this release is far from perfect, we do find it in our hearts to recommend it, mostly due to the accomplished ingenuity of mixing Bosnian traditional music with metal. (7/10)

The melodies are still so infectious, but they're not quite as simplistic as previous outings. As a result, listeners will need to train with multiple listens before they sing along and recognize the musical movements from each nook and cranny. Being traditional prog rock doesn't necessarily mean that it is generic or anything of the sort. Of course in Flower Kings fashion, they're able to breathe life into this antique musical genre and stay true to their roots while still making something that feels fresh and exciting.

Something that will get the progrock nerds going is the tendency for "show off" runs by the keyboardist and his many Moogs, and the band's ability to emulate that ‘70s psychedelic vibe that bands like Camel produced decades ago. "One More Time" has plenty of virtuoso moments, a fantastic vocal melody during the bridge and chorus, and a lot of great instrumental sections that all branch and build from a main theme and effortlessly return after a myriad of musical movements.

"Love Is the Only Answer" is a great testament to The Flower Kings' ability to make one big piece out of several songs worth of material… they've always got to surpass the 20-minute mark for some reason. They go as far as to have layers of what sound like "steel drums" playing faux Red Lobster background muzak.

It's impossible to be disappointed with the "new" musical direction on The Sum of No Evil, as it is really an incredible album. The choice of synth sounds is exciting, and sometimes slightly funny, but always enticingly entertaining. Of course Roine Stolte is back with his definitive wah guitar solos that he has spread throughout so many projects by this point. These guys are at the top of their game and have been working at this for years and years but continue to make the best music imaginable. (8.5/10)

Within black metal circles, there's a reverse trend in which you are more likely to encounter a band or album that tackles a benign topic with an uncompromising or stagnant musical fashion. Black metal bands are unlikely to pacify their sounds to fit a topic that is admittedly less extreme than their usual fare, and if they are conquering an extreme subject, chances are their music is pretty austere to begin with; therefore, they're not stretching themselves too much.

Canada's Forteresse falls somewhere in between these two ideologies with their most recent album, Les Hivers de Notre Epoque. The band hails from Quebec and sings about Quebecois nationalism and history. It's refreshing to find a band that writes from such a natural well of inspiration as their own heritage and sense of patriotism.

With the lyrical topics being so personal and familiar to the project, the music possesses an obvious conviction, even if you can't translate the French. It's not really a concept album, but by simply knowing what the band stands for and the translation of the album title (The Winters of Our Age), you can sense the unity throughout the recording.

Somewhat like Nile, Forteresse is a concept band. Like many Quebecois, the members of Forteresse undoubtedly yearn for sovereignty, so there's a certain fervor in the music. However, they tend to fall on the ambient side of the spectrum, so beefing up the music to suit their passions isn't too high on the agenda. Theoretically, it would be counterproductive.

Instead, they make their point through harrowing, repetitious soundscapes which give no credence to the sense of normal time management that most recorded music has. Not to say that the music groans until the brink of tedium, but rather that the band says "Man, these three or four notes create a wonderfully bleak or contemplative effect... let's drone them out for a little while." Ardent followers of ambient expect this sort of homogeneity. It tends to have just enough variation to give the song a sense of completeness whilst carefully avoiding too many twists and turns. It's nice to hear music sometimes that's more focused on creating and maintaining a mood.

The music of Les Hivers de Notre Epoque is in an odd position because it's not meant to relax or incite you. The aura of it can be relaxing, but the menacing undercurrent of blastbeats and constant drumming tends to snap you out of that tranquil state or at least prevent you from feeling too lethargic. The thing about the drumming is that it is relegated to the background continuously. In other words, it's drowned out by the steady cascade of synth work, perhaps purposefully.

The Olde English font and black-and-white color scheme betrays the band's minimalist preferences. Loud drumming might have given the record a projection of full-on black metal fury or hatred, and that's something the group didn't want to convey. They are rather more relatively peaceful protesters.

With songs that aren't full of memorable solos or choruses, it's important to make subtle variations in the music so the listener won't be lulled into indifference. Perhaps the best track is the instrumental opener because it is neither too long nor too short, uses an intriguing primitive clacking beat, and isn't too repetitive. However, the average music lover or metalhead won't want to listen to this everyday. For the skin and bones lot... well, these could be your daily tunes. (6.8/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

Visually, Les Hivers de Notre Epoque is as intriguing and exciting as the debut, Metal Noir Quebecois. This time, the representations of austere winter are married with the continued theme of national pride, instilling a desire to delve into Forteresse’s world.

Unfortunately, the music is much less well accomplished this time around. Where the debut has an unabashed verve in how it portrayed its compositions, the follow-up album’s music is slower and less passionate because of it. The programmed percussion is punchless, and the music is often impotent and aimless, relying far too much on the tried-and-true. (4/10)

On its debut, California's Fueled by Fire practices old school thrash metal, and manages to sound authentic thanks to an old fashioned sound production that revisits the early ‘80s.

The testosterone level is high, with swift, untamed guitar solos and blazing rhythms (also serving as hooks) in the style of early Metallica (Kill 'Em All) and Slayer. Once in a while, the band also has a go at a more melodic guitar work a la Iron Maiden (check out the final guitar solo on "Spread the Fire!!!" or "Thrash Is Back," which also quotes "Two Minutes to Midnight"), revealing its flaws and limitations in both compositional and technical skills; however, these moments are brief enough not to diminish the impact of the pounding, in-your-face attitude.

The vocals, being basically half-shouts, are typical of the genre. There is some singularity to them, though, as a chilling high-pitched scream is occasionally exhaled as a finish (think black metal shrieks).

The songs, despite being of the same arsenal, hold a certain level of dynamics, mostly apparent through each song's rhythmic variations, and this spices the songs and helps in maintaining the listener's attention.

To put it short, Spread The Fire is a standard yet worthy thrash release. (6/10)

Within the metal genre, folk is often thrown into the mix. Jex Thoth, surrounded by mysterious images of wizardry and witchcraft, does not quite fit the same mold.

Newcomers to Jex Thoth will be surprised by a mix of ‘80s (Danzig) combined with older 1960s psychedelic rock like Amon Duul. The sound is uniquely odd, mellow and somewhat dark.

True metal fans will be disappointed because the sound of the female-led Jex Thoth shies away from heaviness in favor of keyboards, light distortion and long grooves.

"You think you know me but you won’t believe your eyes," the lead singer says through an echo effect in the album’s opening song, "Nothing Left to Die." Indeed, the phrase sums up the entire album, and the reactions of metal fans, folk fans or psychedelic fans.

Unlike Amon Duul II, most songs on the album (with exception to "Son of Yule") all shy away from Duul II’s brighter, juxtaposed sound — sticking a more subtle, consistent, solemn tone instead. An example could be found in the album’s second mantra-like song, "The Banishment."

Perhaps true metal sounds can be drawn from songs like "Obsidian Night." Though despite the fact that obsidian is some of the blackest rock — the song hardly portrays that picture in musical grit. Perhaps the sound only attempts to imitate the guitar distortions of some ‘70s rock music.

Folk is present in this album in terms of the lyrics of some of the songs, though don’t expect to easily pick-up on what is being said through the distortion pedals used by the band. Some instrumental parts in the album do make use of drums and acoustics combined with vocals.

The album nearly ends in what promoters call "an ambitious cover of Bobb Trimble’s psychedelic masterwork ‘When the Raven Calls.’" The lyrics are poetic, and the haunting vocals blend together well.

The final song is not metal, but rather an intense psychedelic instrumental that will be impossible for the listener to predict what direction the tunes will drift. One drawback could be the repeated vocals in the song that take away from the journey. (7.8/10)

Kingfisher Sky is the new band featuring Within Temptation's ex-drummer, Ivar de Graaf. The band's music is described as "progressive/folk rock" in its MySpace page, and while the progressive association is rather groundless, the folk tendency is felt more dominantly, softening the gothic metal impression of de Graaf's previous band with esthetics that are possibly borrowed from Renaissance (the ‘70s band).

"The Craving" opens this debut album with a short, declarative buildup — hard hitting drums that lead into a melodic yet masculine guitar phrase — and grabs the listener's attention right from the start. The clean, heavenly vocals of Judith Rijnveld's then enter, and carry the song to the sky, supported by beautiful guitars and drum work.

The title track follows, initially led by tender keyboards that present a calmer tone, fitting the song's slightly melancholic nature. The guitars are mostly restricted to a backgroud position while the drums keep on pumping, becoming more and more violent as the song evolves and leading the way for the guitar to move forward and rumble.

"Balance of Power" is another showcase of the band's delicacy, starting with gentle guitar picking and a backdrop of violin, eventually erupting with another kick of distortions.

"November" is where a controversy regarding the band's nature arises. While the arrangement still cleverly blends the acoustic with the electric and gradually inflates the song, Rijnveld's vocal approach is too mellow, and sounds more like The Corrs than like a metal performance. The same applies to the more acoustic flavored "Big Fish," but it is "Her White Dress" where the sweetness becomes a bit too much.

Still, the distortion curtain is maintained (at least to some degree) on almost every song, coloring the bittersweet music with darker shades. The dramatic songs found throughout are definitely well written and are amongst the most tuneful and memorable metal flavored music we encountered recently, allowing us to recommend this album to those who like their metal soft and articulate. (7.5/10)

The latest Krisiun offers no surprises. It’s got the Brazilian band’s style of brutality crammed into with as many blast beats and arpeggiated solos as the trio can muster. As always, the effect is much like being attacked by a hive of bees while a jackhammer does its thing alongside.

Speaking of Krisiun and brutal, though, Southern Storm probably isn’t the most actually brutal album this band has done. For that, you might have to go all the way back to Black Force Domain, which is unbridled in its rabid, devil-may-care attack. For many albums now, Krisiun has maxed out its maximum saturation of brutality via a slick production, and it probably can’t get any more brutal than it did on Assassination, the last album. Southern Storm is about on par. Thankfully, the thin, lifeless nadir that was Ageless Venemous is left farther behind with each new album.

From beginning to end, Southern Storm is Krisiun on auto-pilot. If you like Krisiun, it’s enjoyable fun for a good while, but the album is about three songs too long. Also, it says something that the most memorable song on the album is a cover (of Sepultura’s "Refuse/Resist") — it’s the only song whose main theme doesn’t go blastblastblastblast. (6.8/10)

This re-issue of Sean Malone’s 1996 solo release allows us to experience the composer/bass player in his transition from the technical metal of Cynic to the more soundscape-laden Gordian Knot. While Cortlandt finds Malone at a spot closer to the latter in his journey, it also finds him going off track to explore a wider palette, resulting in a diverse listen.

Malone clearly attached more importance to the compositions compared to many of today's fusion musicians (who consider compositions as a spring board for showy improvising), and his writing here borrows at least as much from the jazz maneuvers and world music sceneries as it does from rock.

Still, the playing is very jumpy and keeps you constantly on edge (and regardless of the above, Malone doesn’t spare us some dense bass solos). Sometimes this is appropriate, such as on the vital "Controversy" (with an attractive, swinging guitar solo by Bob Bunin) or the rocky "Splinter" (with some metal flavored guitar chops by Geoff Caputo) — on both of which Malone also uses his Chapman stick as a keyboard; sometimes it is less appealing, such as Malone’s take of Coltrane's "Giant Steps" (the stained bass doesn't really feel like it belongs here, and neither do the piping keyboards sounds), or the six minutes of "The Big Idea," on which Malone fails to pour substantial content into the trapping drums of Sean Reinert (his Cynic colleague who occupies the drum stool with dedication throughout the album, and who would go on to play with Malone on Gordian Knot).

Some other moments worth mentioning (if only to complete the album’s portrait) are "Fischer's Gambit" which is a spellbinding marriage between the harmonious stick and the decisive rhythms laid by the bass and the stick (in its alter ego, utilized as a piano and in rhythmic roles); "Big Sky Wanting," which sounds like the modern King Crimson tinged with tribal percussion (featuring Trey Gunn, who was a member of King Crimson at the time of this recording), and Malone's stick reading of Bach's "Sinfonia" (it is rather stiff but nonetheless impressive).

This re-issue includes the bonus track off the Japanese release of the self titled Gordian Knot album — the Pat Metheny-penned "Unquity Road," treated beautifully with Mahavishnu Orchestra styled blasts and inner tension. (7/10)

The Premonition starts with a dark, acoustic guitar intro — one that begs for a Metallica-like epic to unfold. Electric guitar lines then enter, followed soon by summoning rhythms, as if to support the assumption; a few seconds later, however, Firewind reveals its power metal side instead, with some speedy guitar riffing and double bass drumming, introducing the more melodic and hymnal focus of "Into the Fire."

Next up is "Head up Again," an up-tempo, heavy rocker with the lyrical and musical attitude of Dio’s "Stand up and Shout" written all over it, featuring strong, melodic vocals (by ex-Time Requiem Apollo Papathanasio) that soar high and guitars (by Gus G.) that sweep you off your feet.

The rest of the album continues in a similar manner: Catchy, chorus driven, high octane songs, located somewhere between "classic" and "power" on the metal scale, and with only brief moments of slowing down that help in maintaining the drama (such are the ballad-like verses of "My Loneliness," which actually lead to the forceful chorus).

The production (by Fredrik Nordstrom) is lively and rich, with each instrument being given its proper share and shade in the mix. It's practically all that's necessary to support the conclusive performance and hold you through the entire album. If it wasn't for the obscure inclusion of the poppish "Maniac" (the ‘80s hit off the movie "Flashdance," which is covered here with heavier tones and true-to-the-original keyboards, but unsurprisingly with no real insight), this album could have been the perfect, superficially entertaining listen. (8/10)

review by: Avi Shaked

Live in the Head documents the Japanese force of nature Tatsuya Yoshida (Ruins, Acid Mothers Temple) in the second night of his 2006 visit to Tel Aviv. Half of the CD is dedicated to Yoshida’s improvised encounter with two acclaimed Israeli musicians — sax player Assif Tsahar (who played with the likes of William Parker, Cooper-Moore and Hamid Drake) and Igor Krutogolov (Kruzensthern and Parohod) on electric bass, while the other half finds Yoshida performing his "Ruins Alone" set.

It might be that Yoshida, Tsahar and Krutogolov are simply like-minded (Yoshida and Krutogolov in particular share similar frantic expressions), or that Yoshida was in a more collaborative mood that night, but the music here blows you away. It is hard and extreme, dense not only with notes and rhythms but also with creativity. It stops for breaths of air, if only for the sake of having a sharper contrast.

"Improvisation II" is representative of the set's spirit: at first, Krutogolov and Yoshida improvise vocally to deliver a bizarre mix of opera-derived singing with puking voices. The two then add their instruments to the equation, scattering rhythms on which Tsahar soon stomps with a confident, scorching tenor saxophone. Almost three minutes into the track, a jazzier maneuver is explored, but it doesn't take long before things evolve into a collage of quirky sounds generated by the entire trio. The track then twists into a tribal dance that wouldn't be out of place in a cannibal ceremony.

The second set, "Ruins Alone," finds Yoshida drumming and singing (mainly, he also plays some other instruments) to prerecorded music tracks, which are (for the most part) keyboard-dominated. In a live setting one can definitely appreciate Yoshida’s great timing and technical fit, but seeing only part of the music performed live can be quite irritating and feels unauthentic. However, when experienced as an audio recording this major fault becomes insignificant, and the listener can enjoy the brutal yet amusing performance, especially since the fidelity with which it is delivered is top notch (Udi Koomran, who recorded, mixed and mastered the recording, told Maelstrom what a hard time he had bringing out the details of the sampled music and balancing the whole thing. It certainly paid off well!).

The exclusive aural judgment also helps in evaluating Yoshida's compositions better. "Laiptchig," "Untitled I" and "Olovela," for example, sound like Magma on steroids and even though they are rather swift and immediate they manage to deliver a certain amount of drama with their accelerated symphonic motifs (but be forewarned: don't expect the drama to be anything other than eccentric and bewildered). (8.5/10)

*ZION - Drakula - CD - Circle of Blood - 2007

review by: Alisa Z

Zion is a Greek project that began over a decade ago in order to "create a transcended musical environment" for a poetry collection called "Thanatomenes Anases" (Deceased Breaths). As the title of the album suggests, the tracks deal with the legend of Dracula.

The music is full of melodic parts that suggest melancholy and despair, complete with forlorn female vocals, growling male vocals and synths. The visual imagery that arises as a result of songs like "Order of the Dragon" and "When Love Bleeds in Vain" is synonymous with a castle in the middle of the forest, men dressed in black velvet and damsels clad in corsets, their lips decorated with ruby red lipstick.

The charisma of the band lies in the fact that they try to deviate from the standard "Beauty and the Beast" bands by having activity within the guitar aspect of the music, in the form of guitar solos (e.g. "Drakula - the Son of the Devil") and intense guitar riffs (e.g. "Alone"). The 66th track is a "hidden" song from the first Zion album with Viridian Green. It is atmospheric, hinting at the blackest dawn.

The overall sound does tend to be a little muddled and at times difficult to follow. (6/10)

Yes, they’re Swedish. Yes, they’re a death metal band. Nevertheless, Mykorrhiza explores different spheres and incorporates a multitude of styles into its songs. The overall sound is closer to the "old-school Swedish" death metal sound as opposed to the bombastic Gothenburg sound.

It is difficult to decide whether the clean vocals that are present on tracks like "Fake Identity," "Chosen One," and "Demonic World" do the band any good. "Hate" is an exuberant track with a melodic side to it. "Entering" has a somewhat complex structure. The guitar is not always as powerful, which makes the tracks sound rickety.

It is confusing to try and understand what exactly the band is trying to do and it can be argued that they need to develop their personality. (5.8/10)

The most frustrating thing about this release is that every song seems to induce in the listener a near-fugue state of ennui. Take opening track, "Infernal Flame of Destruction:" Nifelheim starts with some velocity, then defaults to some black riffing we’ve heard a zillion times, laggy drumming, and a total sense of SAFETY in Satan.

There’s hardly any presence in the playing or even Hellbutcher’s vokills. The transitions between parts sound like a bad splice. And for all the history of hell, even with the bondage gear and 19-inch nail gauntlets, the band looks just like my stepdad.

It’s a shame, because I was so totally psyched to hear this band. I actually thought my guts were going to be handed to me, because Nifelheim’s reputation as chief executioners of the current wave of Scandinavian black metal precedes them. But this material makes me want to kill rock and roll.

Mind you, there’s a distinctive early Bathory feel on Envoy of Lucifer — listen to the snare rape on "Open the Gates of Damnation" or "Claws of Death" and hear some awesome Bathory Under the Sign of the Black Mark influences. But the overall result sounds innocent rather than menacing. Pass. (3/10)

As opposed to what the zillions of death/grind bands show you, the genre doesn't need to be just the fastest blastbeats the drummer can play with pinch harmonics here and there and some guy randomly grunting. "But Ignacio, that's the true essence of death metal!" No, it's not. It can be technical, it can be angular, it can be crazy, it can be absolutely serious, but death metal shouldn't be just random screaming on top of random riffs. Well, unless you make it so random that it's interesting.

Anyway, both Nyia and Antigama are examples of the best death/grind can offer so, naturally, this short but sweet split is one of the best death/grind releases ever.

While Antigama's side is great, Nyia's takes the cake. In almost seven minutes they manage to create the perfect mix of jazz-influenced grind, sounding quite like a more serious, metal-oriented Naked City. Fractured drum lines, crazy, as-angular-as-possible riffs, vocals all over the place, but maintaining a certain degree of coherency. "Of the Will of Power of Those" is a concept mini-album all by itself. It's groundbreaking and most of all, it's something you'll be replaying quite often if you enjoy grind and death at all. Or free jazz.

Antigama, however, adheres to the more traditional concept of the genre, where drums are mostly constant, blastbeats still exist in their most primitive form, but where the craziness comes more in the form of interludes, certain atonal riffs, and purposefully clumsy tom rolls. Their music is anything but clumsy, however, with top notch performances by every member in their ten minutes of music and some brilliant songwriting, albeit more limited than Nyia's.

While it certainly is more traditional than Nyia's side, Antigama represents a more evolved kind of the usual death/grind, without the usual monotony of it (after all, it features church organ and reverse samples).

As a whole, Nyia + Antigama works as a sampler to what the genre should be. Experimentation, fun, craziness, but also serious technicality and songwriting, zero filler and a somehow recognizable sound. If you haven't heard of Nyia, grab this as it's much easier to get into than their previous stuff (and it's also much better). Both bands on this split are bands you need to know. (8.9/10)

I'm one of the few guys who actually thought Orthrelm was enjoyable past the novelty value. We've all heard the term "repetition" thrown at things like Burzum or even Sunn O))), but, undoubtedly, Orthrelm was the first band to push repetition into the terrain of the utterly ear damaging. "Like the riff? We're gonna play it about five hundred times with different time signatures each time!".

Forty five-minute songs based on about ten riffs shorter than half a second that make no sense, Orthrelm sounded like an endurance test for their members. Even so, their sense of harmony and their atmosphere building are well beyond your average band. Well, take half of Orthrelm and turn it into a slightly more human one-man band and you have the still inhuman Ocrilim.

Elements of both traditional counterpoint and serialism are introduced on Annwn, so be prepared for an eclectic mix of incoherence, or maybe excessive coherence, and surprising harmonic development. Sure, most of it is atonal, but it's not the kind of atonal that'll make you shake your head and go do something else.

Like Orthrelm, Ocrilim is repetitive. Ok, no, not just that. Ocrilim is excessively repetitive. Still not there, but you get the idea. Not one riff is there just once, and every single idea gets stretched to the maximum, with some variations, but not necessarily.

The riffs are so overlayered and developed that it all sounds epic. See how Orthrelm was fun? This one tries to fuck with your head as much as possible, while still showing a really mature sense of composition, both modern and postmodern, including an even stronger influences from Terry Riley and Steve Reich, and a great deal of inspiration from Glenn Branca.

Oh, and it's as fun, too. But most of all, Ocrilim sounds like an army of guitar players ready to kill you with their inhuman picking hands and overlayered guitar riffs. Never mind the fact that they only have one guitarist.

Where Orthrelm is more about the novelty and the fact that songs are just inhumanly hard, Ocrilim takes all that and manages to create a complex, fun, but most of all, objectively amazing and atmospheric album.

Ocrilim will never get anywhere near mainstream, since they are more of an outsider post-post-post-post-[...]-rock band than something people will get to have fun for 40 minutes. Even so, it cannot be stressed enough: Annwn is brilliant in every sense of the word, and you should get it even if you end up hating it. If you do like it, then you'll love the fact that the album is just under eighty minutes, so Annwn has around as much Ocrilim as it fits on one CD. If you hate it, then you've heard A) The actual meaning of "repetition," and B) One of the best albums ever recorded. And also C) The music of the near future. Ok, maybe that was just wishful thinking. (9.9/10)

Very few bands can pull-off ending a song with a fragile vocal duet before blasting into a down-tuned guitar riff, followed by bone rattling roars and a piano interlude thrown in the midst of it all. Yes, Opeth is back again, with their ninth studio record, Watershed, unleashing their classic sound we have all grown accustomed to.

With the latest disk, trained Opeth listeners planning to close the doors and listen to the entire album by themselves will find their newest album enlightening, raw and traveling in a new direction.

No matter how familiar with with Opeth, you will definitely understand why the band is typically named in the "progressive." For the first time ever, Opeth uses folk singer Natalie Lorichs, in a male-female duet in the lead song "Coil." The third song, "Lotus Eater," begins with lead singer Mikael Akerfeldt humming into the microphone, harmonizing vocals and finally growling as usual.

Opeth has nodded to its past. While losing the processed guitar sound heard in their last album (Ghost Reveries), their drummer Martin Lopez, and guitarist of 16 years, Peter Lindgren, the band still manages to return to the rawer sounding metal found in their Orchid album. New guitarist Fredrik Akesson and drummer Martin Axenrot certainly understand what they must do to maintain the Opeth death metal symphony.

There is more of Akerfeldt singing this time around, and the new guitarist can be heard in a new way as well. In a twist to the standard Opeth sound, the song "Bridge of Sighs" lets Akerfeldt hammer out a blues vocal as Akesson twangs through riffs reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s classic jams, complete with artificial gusts of wind in the background. The blues dies down through a soothing closing song that has Akerfeldt singing in what seems to be his native Swedish language. As was the case with Ghost Reveries, it also sounds like keyboardist Per Wiberg has found his niche in this band, evidenced by the increased dominance of his instrument on this album.

While Pitchfork Media has said the latest album reminds a listener of "your lovable Swedish uncle who once recorded a folk album," I doubt many solid Metal listeners will go that far in describing this album. This album certainly has a very mature feeling to it (fitting to the feelings of an old uncle perhaps) and Akerfeldt dabbles in folk more often. But he has plenty of flame to spew at just the right moment when the metal riffs start building, as usual. Combined with the heavier use of clean vocals and some great guitar work, this tactic gets to the point fast and loud. Can your uncle do that?

Look for a good combination of power and clear, emotional build-ups in "Hex Omega" especially. "Heir Apparent" and "The Lotus Eater" certainly bring new elements to the classic Orchid style in 8:48 minute packages each. The following song, "Burden," has a hint of their Damnation album in it. And if you think the track after that, "Hessian Peel," will stay slow throughout the song, you obviously have not listened to Opeth long enough — the song takes off in about a thousand directions while still blending together.

Overall, this would be a very challenging album to get into if you have not listened to Opeth for long, or jumped on the bandwagon with Ghost Reveries. Critics will probably love this album for its fusion of so many different types of music typically never brought to the metal scene. The band will probably not disappoint fans with this release, and contrary to the whims of the music industry, the sound of Opeth promises to remain dynamic only like the turbulent emotions the band has always conveyed. (8.7 of 10)

There'll always be an eternal divide between those who accept experimentation and those who do not. Doom fans say "Sunn O))) isn't doom, it's just drone"; just like jazz fans said back then, "Miles Davis doesn't play jazz anymore" about his most avant-garde works; just like classical listeners even before that said "Schoenberg doesn't compose classical music."

The thing is, it all eventually ends up being accepted, and what was experimental 20 years ago is accepted, in some cases as experimental or in some others as normal. Nowadays, we call Miles Davis a jazz musician and Schoenberg a classical composer, even if their styles differ a lot from Louis Armstrong and Mozart, respectively.

Orthodox's Amanecer en Puerta Oscura is in a similar situation. Without a doubt, it's one of the best doom albums released in years, and easily the best doom / jazz album the scene has ever seen, but it’s doubtful it'll be accepted as doom.

Amanecer en Puerta Oscura is nothing like your usual doom album. It doesn't need to abuse distortion, it doesn't use powerchords or even delay and feedback that much. The vocals are almost nonexistent. What we have here is a brilliant mix of Miles Davis-influenced free jazz and Sunn O))) drone-doom, the keyword being doom. While "Mesto, rigido e ceremoniale" is a great drone / doom track, "Templos" could pretty well be a cover of a Miles Davis song from the Bitches Brew album. Such diversity isn't commonly found in doom albums this side of Skepticism.

The key for Amanecer en Puerta Oscura is the logical and quite extensive usage of repetition all along it. Songs that would normally be interludes for doom bands get stretched to eight minutes, filled with improvisations on many different instruments (not what you'd call "jamming," though) and brilliant drumming. Every track is an experiment, and surprisingly every single one of them works. And when you least expect it, they throw a monolithic Reverend Bizarre-ish traditional-but-not-quite doom song at you to end the album.

You know how doom riffs are always based upon the same patterns? You probably recognize 90% of them if you've heard enough. Well, not on Amanecer en Puerta Oscura. Orthodox take their experimental riffing seriously, so none of the parts sound like anything you've heard, save for a few select moments. That's why albums like Amanecer en Puerta Oscura are rarely ever praised: you need to analyze them to actually understand them, and we all know that music is almost never analyzed enough. But if you're at all into modern jazz and doom, Amanecer en Puerta Oscura will be one of your favorite albums. (9.5/10)

Sometimes Maelstrom receives an album from new, talented one-man bands who are able to take on any instrument and just play away. There are also plenty of interesting two-man bands, like we recently saw from the likes of Velonnic Sin, Charnel Valley, N.I.L. and Avichi. Overthrone from Illinois (not to be confused with the death metal band from Oregon) display a special interest in grand mythological and mystical themes. Comparisons with Satyricon and Emperor seem to hold some relevance.

The quality of the lyrics is very high and well thought-out. The musical ideas are also pretty intricate as may be expected from epic and black metal in a progressive vein. Overthronw unfold them to such an extent that so much is happening in each song that at some point it seems like six songs’ worth of material has gone by, while one may still just be listening to the third song.

This notwithstanding, Declarations of Secession is an album with one of the best opening heard in a long while. Opening track "The Vitriolic Fervour," at a hefty 9:42 minutes, starts off with a military parade style drumroll while a guitarline prefaces a dramatic tale of epic and drama. Toby Nickels, the man on the drums and on the synth, also does a nice growling job on the vocals.

There are occasional hints of theatrical Bal-Sagoth influences, like on "Liana," where the invisible protagonist responds in heroic male vocals to the adventurer who pleads for Liana’s manifestation: "Deceiver! Not another step closer! You sightless fool! You hide your sheen like all the rest, though I be ancient and careworn." Such lines perfectly illustrate Overthrone’s narrative character.

Towards the middle of the title song, Nickels excels on the drums with some dead smart staccatto in perfect harmony with a guitar riff with such an unusual, fast and tight beat that will leave you awestruck.

The closing song, the colossal, 12-minute "Intravenous," starts with a pattern on acoustic guitar in a manner reminicent of folk metal. Eventually, all short, middle-length and mega-length songs combined add up to one hour’s worth of stories.

Technically, it’s all very sound and clear and for a self-produced debut, but what is still missing is grandeur. The production is on the thin side, lacking of deep tones, or for that matter lacking a proper amount of oompf. There is obviously talent going about here, but Overthrone’s debut album demands too much from the casual listener for the content it is offering.

Overthrone deserves to get a helping hand from a capable producer who can help get them a more distinctive production sound, because as it is now, their sound is like a room with dull pieces of furniture that are gathered without a sense of style. By having done everything themselves, they have also done themselves short.

And because they are obviously very good, one may see what is lacking on this release, or to put it otherwise, that this album is not as good as it could have been. Having said that, this is a highly promising and well-crafted debut, and Overthrone has the potential to make a follow-up that will largely make up for the above points. (6.75/10)

Listening to New Lexicon is like being hit by a big boulder. Not because it's the greatest thing ever conceived or anything like that, but because somehow, a band made a good album out of tough guy hardcore. You might hate the genre (I do), but this time an oppoent of the genre is forced to say things like "New Lexicon is actually musical," "New Lexicon is fun" and "New Lexicon manages to create something not only hardcore purists will enjoy."

Yes, New Lexicon is fun and it's objectively miles ahead everything tough guy hardcore bands have released in the last years. It might be its kind of intellectual approach mixed with things out of the norm such as ambience or, gulp, melodic pop-punk riffs here and there, or it may be the fact that there's actual songwriting here. Know how songs always end up sounding similar for most traditional hardcore bands? Not here, and it’s still a wonder how they did it, but they did it.

The typical tough guy vocals are here, of course, but they are much subdued. Uh, huh, no nonsensical gang screaming marathons here, just... nonsensical gang screaming with more intellectual lyrics in shorter doses. And buildups. Who knows how they did it, but they included buildups here, with feedback, layering and choruses that don't work just as ways to let the vocalist scream about how much he kicks your and everyone's ass. The riffs are well-placed and more often than not repeated just a few times, with actual tempo changes in between songs and inside the songs themselves, making New Lexicon something entirely different from the usual "song divided into 30 one minute tracks" we're used to.

On the other hand, New Lexicon isn't an album you'll get addicted to, since it's not made to hit a sweet spot but to show a certain variety that will make purists want to eat their own arm. New Lexicon is good stuff, not perfect, but one of the best examples of how everything can be good when backed by good songwriting and bits of originality.

The next thing to wonder at is why the hell this band chose a Rolling Stones title for their band name. That's probably the last thing to ponder, though. Right now, it’s just marvelous that tough guy hardcore can be good. (7.5/10)

Glasgow native Davey Pattison's career took off in the late ‘70s as a lead vocalist for Ronnie Montrose’s Gamma, but his name might also ring a bell for fans of Robin Trower and Michael Schenker, as Pattison later served as a front man for both. This reissue (a two-CD set) combines Pattison’s two solo offerings — 1999's Mississippi Nights and 2003's Pictures — and some of the music contained here is as good as electric blues can possibly get.

Pictures is clearly the superior of the two. Whereas Mississippi Nights is rather relaxed (perhaps even extinguished at times), and suffers — on an album level — from the sameness of the songs, Pictures is both livelier and more varied, with Pattison's delivery sounding more inspired.

The songs are tight and catchy, in fact so catchy that you can sing along to some while listening to them for the first time (e.g. "Married to the Blues," "John Lee, Jimmy Reed and Mississippi Fred").

Pattison is a soulful singer. His delivery of typical blues subjects (love, despair, and, of course, the blues itself, which plays an important role, often being put on a pedestal here) embodied in the original songwriting is natural and personal, hence authentic and moving (check out Pictures’ title track).

The backing is of the same comfortable nature. The playing is nuanced and articulate, and rarely takes over or supersedes the songs. In fact, even when it does — such as on the boogie number "I Got the Hots for You" — it remains tasteful. Particularly noteworthy are the fine slide guitar playing (by John Rewind) and the shading keyboards.

Perhaps one of the revolutionary statements that Anima Damnata seem to be making is to show that that Poland isn't just about Vader or Behemoth, or perhaps, it is merely to project their relatively uncommon theme of having Satanic lyrics in a death metal context. Their music is proclaimed to be Satanic death metal, bombing Christianity with their pungent stench of vileness and debauchery. The band members have amusingly evil titles such as Necrolucas (whose full name is Master of Depraved Dreaming and Emperor of the Black Abyss the Great Lord Hziulquoigmzhah Cxaxukluth) and Ritual Devourer of Unborn Angelic Flesh. Although the names and song titles might seem absurd, the music is far from being so.

The contagion that is excreted out of the vocalist's mouth adds certain originality to the record, the singing echoing a frog-like demonic entity. The music itself is not excessively innovative, but it isn't boring. The strength of the band's sound lies in the careful mix of old-school death metal, a relatively constant belching voice and overall dirtiness. The drumming, meanwhile, sounds organic and intense. At times, the listener gets the impression that a song might get close to being labelled as monotonous but before that happens, the melody, rhythm and/or singing changes. So, in a way, the songs contain an element of surprise.

The sound of the bass can be compared to a background droning noise, a dismal humming of some sort that strives to devour the light and release the darkness. "Celebracja Ascezy" and "Insulter of the Heavenly Whore" are prime examples of this. Another unexpected feature that gradually unravels itself is the attempt at creating melody and harmony, however diabolical they might be. "No Glory in Heaven" and "My Blood and Flesh Belong to Hell," for example, are both noticeably vibrant tracks that gradually get more alive as the melodies evolve.

The 14th and 15th tracks are parts of an earlier release entitled Tormenting the Flesh of the Syphilic Holy Whore (2006). To an extent, it sounds rawer, more experimental and seemingly more complex. The guitar sound, for instance, profuses a certain crudity whereas the vocals appear to be more subdued and unclear. The tracks are divided into parts, some of which have charming titles, such as "Ciasna Pizda Maryji (Tight Cunt of Holy Mother)" and "Sraj na grob (Shit on a Grave)."

Perhaps one should avoid focusing solely on the "Satanic" constituents and instead focus on the general sound of the band. It might not be the most clean or well-produced release, but it is worth listening to. (7.7/10)

Celestia has released countless demos since the mid-‘90s, but this is only the second proper full-length since the Apparitia – Sumptuous Spectre, from 2002. Frontman Noktu is seldom satisfied with the band’s output, judging from the several occasions when songs were re-recorded and even re-re-recorded. Early 2007 saw a remastered re-release of Apparitia and soundwise it was indeed a significant improvement.

A few months later saw a taster for this new album called Frigidis Apotheosia, with four song titles. After the little project called Sick, Noktu could once again find a helping hand on keyboards, namely Malefic from Xasthur fame. Perhaps it’s time for Malefic to swap his Californian residence for one in France, because in interviews he repeatedly expressed his disliking for the US black metal scene and seems to rather enjoy working for and with European bands (recently with Swedens screambeast Aske and a while back with Striid from the Netherlands in Mord).

Anyway, Frigidis Apotheosia is definitely another step forward for Celestia. Over the course of years, Celestia has defined itself more and more by the desire to merge its particular gothic esthetics with polished, yet not slick black metal. The actual retail version of Frigidis Apotheosia is a lavish affair with an embossed slipcase with UV lacquering on pictures and silver ink.

The songs are much more adventurous and diverse than the ones on Apparitia. The production is less reverb-saturated, and the vocals are much more defined and raspy. There is more emphasis on atmosphere with — naturally — keyboards, but also nicely measured notes on acoustic guitar.

However, Celestia wouldn’t be Celestia without a bit of self-repetition. Track five. "Death of the Lizard Queen (Necro Phantasma)," starts off with the same chords like their oldie "Spectra" from Apparitia. Three of the eight songs share the same minor basic key from the beginning. I mean, it STILL is possible to dismiss Celestia as repetitive and dull; some listeners surely will. But considering the fact that this is the best they have ever sounded, it would be cruel to not be lenient. Celestia have come to grips with their working tactics and while Frigidis Apotheosia reflects this, this is a platform from which they could manage to accomplish something that’s even grander. (7/10)

For the first time in quite a while, here’s a melodic metal band with a vocalist using clean vocals that don’t suck --- vocals that avoid the clean, dramatic and stylized singing in metal that so very often get whiney, emo, and pathetic. Of course, the word "pathetic" comes from the word "pathos" referring to "a quality, as of an experience or a work of art, that arouses feelings of pity, sympathy, tenderness, or sorrow." While most metal fans use this word to express their rejection about something there isn’t anything wrong with those feelings intrinsically.

Let’s examine the Machinery:

The opening song, "Cold," is the beginning of an intense journey in epic and diverse metal, showing Michel Isberg having quite a good and convincing singing voice with a dynamic range. The melodies are strong throughout the song, and not just in the chorus (have you spotted a general phenomenon of "apologetic" choruses in some melodic metal bands? They use them to compensate for the lack of song progression). There is also a bit of Arch Enemy-like solo in the last part of the song.

The following song, the brutal and fierce "Reason is the Truth," is quite different and has Isberg putting on a good death growl. He sticks to this style throughout the whole song (thankfully) and leaves the softer moments to brief melodic guitar riffs, which works really well. As the songs progress, Machinery elaborate themselves as a band riding on the thin edge of emotion and hard riffs, while managing to retain tension in (most of) their songs. The title song is a well-done minor epic piece with its multi-cogged structure, now eerie and uncanny, then melancholic and sad, and back again. It sums up in six minutes what the entire album stands for.

The Passing was recorded last year in June and produced by Jonas Kjellgren (who also worked with Scar Symetry and Centinex) in Stockholm. Does this mean that fans of "Gothenburg Death" should check this album out? Definitely, yes. Never mind all those people dismissing this type of metal as trite or contrived, because it offers more room for diversity than in several other metal genres. (7.5/10)

"What we see. What we do.
Everything leaves a trace, somewhere.
Everything has a meaning.
Things have a soul.
Things exist way beyond our reach.
Things speak, live and die.
Things speak in their own language, and make noise.
A noise that only trained ears can understand.
Neronoia keeps on being nothing.
But a very important nothing."

Thus the statement from Neronoia from Milan, Italy, about Il Rumore Delle Cose, which is a side-project of all the members of Canaan with Gianni Pedretti (Colloquio) on vocals, and convenience has it that their guitarist happens to be the owner of Eibon Records!

Il Rumore Delle Cose starts off with a few measured guitar notes followed by a sequence of distant hollow beats. A voice commences singing in a mystical, whispered manner over mournful keyboards shrouded in a foggy atmosphere. The tone is set immediately, and funereal it is.

From the song numbering (the songs have no titles) it appears that they consider this new album as an inseparable continuation of its predecessor. These are songs XI to XX, that’s all you have to know. A pity that my CD player doesn’t pick up on that though, they’re just tracks 1 to 10.

The croony vocals of Pedretti somehow recall the Alabama 3 singing the "Sopranos" signature tune. You know, as if someone’s secretly singing from beneath a table in a bomb shelter, with you sitting right next to him.

Although there can be no doubt about the functionality of Pedretti’s vocals, it would not be an unwelcome thing to hear the music without them. The keyboards are dreary yet dreamlike, but their semi-industrial effects and icy sound samples come like mild disturbances in the serenity of the melodies created by the other instruments.

There isn’t much quite like this from Italy. Perhaps the thought of Dead Can Dance at their gloomiest could serve to get the picture. Better even would be to think of the bleak industrial works of Gary Numan, like on his albums Exile and Pure, only then slowed down by a notch or two.

This noise of things is uncompomising in its restraint and wavers around like a dense fog.

The atmosphere will either befit one’s mood, or it will just fail to catch on and be left in disregard. Recommended listening while being alone and when it’s dark outside, preferably before going to sleep. Then, go to sleep and dream of nothing, a very important nothing. (7/10)

Vanity of vanities, a concept made to measure for "Time," the opening track of the new For Future’s Past mini-album by Australian Noctis.

The initial deep melancholia on piano and strings is obviously an intro, so what’s next? Something entirely different, namely sudden heavy groove riffs and low grunt vocals on the following track, "Rememberance of Death." Remarkable is how young these five romantics look like. However, most members have already been in several other progressive or melo-death bands and this is evident from both musicianship and production (which the band did themselves, except for the mastering).

Noctis’ music is similar to bands like Opeth, Katatonia, Novembre, and Daylight Dies. Within 30, minutes the listener gets an accessible showcase with melodic- and serious- sounding songs, more leaning towards metal/rock than a harsher kind of metal. The album has three longer pieces ranging from five to eight minutes, which offer enough variation to stay interesting. The delicate instrumental pieces "Time" and "Nostalgia" show their affection for dreamy and contemplative melodies with acoustic instruments.

Apart from those instrumentals, it’s remarkable how drummer Ben Mazzarol has such a prominent role in the mix. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, because he plays great, with lively rolls and good double bass, but sometimes his parts threaten to overshadow the vocals. The vocals once again show a fashionable mix of grunts and sensitive cleans, fortunately with more emphasis on the first and without trying to show it off in the higher registers.

When listening to those lower vocals, you might be able to ignore how it’s somewhat silly how young blokes do songs titled "Nostalgia" or how one sings that "memories are my only friend," whereas these young men still have loads of time on their wrinkle-free hands. If the passing of time has led them to be able to attain their current skills, then why want to look back?

Of course, when relatives pass away or when being let down by yet another girl, it does feel like the end of the world. But when listening to what Sam Terlick is singing about (no lyrics were printed) I could pick out lines about demons waiting, suicide as the only way out and decomposition of the body. Those are all very common terms in the world of metal, so why feel pity if they are such a source of emotional agony? Surely time will take care of even those inconveniences.

Inconveniences aside, while writing I listened to For Future’s Past three or four times in a row and boy, I didn’t realize how late it was already. That’s a good sign. Sometimes forgetting is better than remembering, but I think I will remember the name Noctis. Promising. (6.75/10)

Mmm… Plague Angel’s grooves are quite forceful! Now, if only the production quality was better, Raped by Lies would be a perfect record. Scratch that. The under-produced quality gives it a warm feel. Besides, for a demo, the songs are neat.

The songs are melodic and brutal. The vocals are guttural and at times, screeching (such as in "Deviants of Humanity").

The only negative thing is the drums. Well, also the haphazard structure of some parts. Anyway, as far as the drums go, they sometimes sound too monotonous and may resemble a coffee mug being tapped against a wooden table repeatedly, without much enthusiasm.

The album art may be a bit dodgy, but hey… old school, right?

Fix up the drumming a little, organize the structure (but only a tiny bit so as not to lose the wonderful element of chaos that is vital to brutal death metal) and write more kick ass songs! (6.5/10)

The Profane are here to show that death ‘n’ roll is a musical potion worth mixing. Blending growling vocals, catchy guitar riffs and sleaze, these Paraguayan boys are here to play the "soundtrack to the craziest and evil drunken party." The roots of rock ‘n’ roll appear throughout the album as remote harmonica playing or as thick, bluesy sounds.

Although the band seeks variety, the final outcome tends to be somewhat monotone. That is, the first few tracks pretty much summarize the album. Chaosbreed was mastered at Platinum Studios (Metallica, Ratt, W.A.SP.). The sound is perfectly dirty and tends to keep in theme with the "profanity." (6/10)

War, Blood, Honour is a re-release of Redrum’s first album. This Russian band’s style lingers on the line between death and traditional metal and sometimes incorporates some of the cheesiest sounds imaginable to mankind. The synths are lacking in power, the vocals sound like Helloween, and the album artwork with the "scary" photographs is indescribable.

However, the biggest problem is the incoherence between all of the instruments, in particular the drums in relation to everything else. The drum sound tends to cripple songs instead of providing a strong envelope around them. The chanting that appears in some songs has an allure, i.e. "Red Night (Harvest of Souls)," and "Gates ov Sorrow."

The last track is a Metallica cover that denotes an interesting approach to covering songs, since the original melody is hidden beneath layers. (4/10)

The sticker on Temujin’s 1,000 Years CD proclaims the album contains four "hit singles." Listen to the album and you might ask yourself in which country and on what planet these "singles" have "hit."

Temujin’s music is pop-oriented with heavy guitar and a metal sensibility. This, like any other style, can work well. Unfortunately for Temujin, the lifeless drum machine, tinny tonalities, and flaccid energy scream "bedroom production." The uniquely female vocals are decent, but for this style of music, which demands soaring, syrupy melody, the vocals lapse far too often in mundane flatness. Never for a moment will you get the impression that the vocalist is being backed up by a band — rather, it’s a reluctant singer glued on to hollow-sounding music. No hits here, guaranteed. (2/10)

Relax and enjoy… there’s nothing to be overly critical about here. Genetic Disorder is as good a heavy / power metal album as they come, and the only thing to complain about is the fact that very few bands in the genre make it sound so easy.

Maybe you haven't heard of them yet, and with a name like Nightmare, you'd be excused for it, because it is hardly original. Yet, this French crew was founded way back in 1979. They had a break between 1987 and 1999, but now, in 2008, speaking of when and how they re-united would be quite irrelevant. All you need to know is that they know their jobs. There are 12 songs on Genetic Disorder, all of them with their own personality, and each of them thoroughly elaborated to the point where you don't actually notice the elaboration, because it is so fluid. The guitar licks are perfectly fitting, the guitar-hero spots are, well, spot-on, and you'll hardly find a moment with nothing happening in it.

To sum it up, Jo Amore really has the voice. Great range, no irritating phrasing, and a certain warmth put him in the league with Ronnie James Dio, Bruce Dickinson, Jorn Lande or David Coverdale. The tracks usually go in medium tempo, and although it's the ground where many a band will resort to simple chugging, Nightmare bring in such a vast amount of killer parts that you have to wonder why it was that they got it just right, and continue getting it right track by track, while with most other bands all you get is emptiness. Shows that being old doesn't mean being tired.

Also, there's catchiness wherever you look, so anyone looking for a more solemn version of Edguy or Helloween doesn't have to look further. If you remember the days (way back in the ‘80s) when getting new albums was hard, and nearly everything you could get was good because the bands had to go through a lot of effort in order to get noticed (and the available albums were also filtered by the quality), well, this could be one of them. (8.5/10)

If you hate most (or all) of those thrash revival bands, Bonded by Blood won't be one of them. They don't try to sound old school, or throw in anything modern — actually they aren't trying to do anything you'd want to discuss — they just do it (which is one of the most desirable qualities for a band of any kind). So, give the rhythm guitars a snappy, lively sound and just thrash in any direction, if there's enough energy they'll sound as good as new. Bonded by Blood's guitars do. Also, if you're lucky enough to have one of those singers with a high-pitched, irritating, crossover voice, feed him all the psychotic, evil, tormenting, socially inadequate lyrics you can think of, and tell him to shout them fast, and the fun is guaranteed. A great drummer is a bonus, and also if the solo guitars remind of the Hanneman / King duo? You're golden.

Really, there's hardly anything to complain about on Feed the Beast. It's not the kind of thrash with classic compositions, but rather with classic feeling. Damned if we've heard better recently; the 12 tracks are a through-and-through enjoyment. Though you won't remember many extremely original parts, you'll remember that everything was in the right place, and that the time went by much faster than it should have. And you won't remember why it was you thought thrash should have been dead and buried by now. Now, if only Earache knew how to count and kindly placed the two bonus tracks right after the other, main tracks, who knows... maybe they're insinuating that thrash shouldn't be put in context with intelligence, but just with fun? Damned if we're going to go through the trouble of putting the other disc in — the songs are fairly similar to those on the main one — so let's just play Feed the Beast once more. (8/10)

This follow-up to The Faded Reveries seems the logical continuation of that soundscape. Foundation Hope is one of the more standout ambient artists, on account of the music’s journey-like quality. Soundtrack-y synth drones salve the listener with recurring soft tones, and rhythms are very restrained.

Perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of these twelve tracks is their open-ended nature — the themes seem to mostly explore loneliness and desire, but each drone invites us to create our own imagery as we listen. That potential for personalization scores big points, but a major downside is that repeat listens may not sustain interest. But then again, this work is so bright and deep, a listener can come away with something different every time. (7/10)

Helrunar's brand of Viking metal is a pleasure to listen to. With an obvious nod to the classic Grieghallen sound, Baldr ok Iss still sounds modern and powerful. Since the production duties were handled by Markus Stock (Empyrium, The Vision Bleak) it is much of a surprise, as the man usually knows very well what he is doing.

There aren't many surprises in the music itself, though. The Germans know how to write a song, and present it in an icy, furious manner. Exploring the fretboard more profoundly than what you hear on regular black metal albums, the riffs consist of distinctive and piercing notes, evoking early Enslaved material (Vikingligr Veldi or Frost). Since the drummer calls himself Alsvartr, it's also fair to say that he lives up to his name, maybe not of the Emperor caliber, but he knows what to do, when to burst in or out, and the blasting parts couldn't be more thundering. Also, there is diversity in the songwriting. Clean guitar parts aren't pointless, but deliberate and connected to the distorted riffs. And you wouldn’t expect the songs themselves — from blastbeats to slow, anthemic storytelling ones, with occasional clean and obviously Viking chants, to be boring.

And they aren't — not exactly boring, but also not exactly exciting, emotional or original. Well done, surely, but after admiring the sound and checking out what Enslaved riffs Helrunar used and where, there are also too many parts where nothing happens - or, these are the parts bands usually use to tell a story, but in Helrunar's case the stories have been heard before. And whatever Baldr ok Iss is trying to describe, while you're listening it keeps you waiting for a conclusion. When it's over you don't feel you've heard one. (5.5/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

Like on the debut, Helrunar’s second album has a powerful sound. Its deep, furious grooves reverberate with great might, the guitars are colossally thick, and the energy put into the songs’ execution is overflowing. The music is certainly propelled by Helrunar’s choice of production: big, yet sinister and brooding amongst the raging music.

Klimt 1918’s name sounds as clunky as ever, but their albums are still glorious. Such is the case with latest effort, Just in Case We’ll Never Meet Again. Luckily, this Italian group’s music isn’t as awkward as its album names, either. Just please contact a native English speaker before you go to press with any more albums, eh?

Klimt 1918 has changed styles a fair amount, moving its heavy rock music with occasional metal elements more into shoegaze territory, something accomplished with liberal amounts of bittersweet, warbling, shimmering walls of guitar. This element is the big star of Just in Case We’ll Never Meet Again. This is a bit of a surprise, not because the guitars aren’t good (they’re wonderful), but because the vocals take a relatively supporting role. Klimt 1918 has always had tremendous vocals, particularly in how they are in harmony with the music.

The expert handling of harmony continues in Just in Case We’ll Never Meet Again, albeit in a different direction, as outlined above, from previous albums like Dopo Guerra. Elements like occasional nods to U2 remain.

If it can be considered a downside is Klimt 1918’s continued habit of writing wonderful, tuneful albums that don’t really have individual songs that stand out. Rather, the collection of tracks stand as a single, pleasant sonic entity. Although this is anything but offensive, having more of an opportunity to choose one’s own favorite song can create stronger emotional ties to a given album. (8/10)

Long live Rusty Axe Records and whatever sweet nonsense they are willing to release. Under the Axe volume 4 is an eighty-minute CD with 21 bands on it. We wouldn't go as far as to call it a compilation, because it isn't one. Compilations usually have a theme, some kind of a logical order in which the songs appear, and, if at all possible, the bands have at least something in common.

Not here. There are bands of every imaginable underground kind of metal (well they're still all metal, at least), between ludicrous demented black, repetitive sludge and standard heavy. No one was paying attention to the loudness so you constantly have to maneuver the volume knob between the tracks. You really can't expect to have enough patience to sit through all of this at one try, but will it make you want to check out most of these bands? Most definitely.

For anyone with a true love of the underground, there will hardly be a bad track. Sure, after one band has finished, the next one will come as unexpected as possible, but there is a certain charm in that. Believe us, we HAVE listened to all of them, more than a couple of times, and we had a good time. But, we're not naming any of them. Even if we named ten, there would be five or six more deserving their space in the review. And where would all this end? You're just going to have to trust us. Check this out. (7.5/10)

One of us is wrong here. Maybe it's your humble Maelstrom journalist. Speaking of one-man solitary black metal, he probably knows a thing or two (thousand). Not by doing it but by living it. After all, he doesn't know a single other living black metal person anywhere within the limits of two cities, barely communicates with people for more than five minutes, walks around in circles through all the same places, day after day, accompanied just by his dog, refuses the invitations for things as simple as "let's go have a coffee" and sees the world in a leaf of grass. Actually, recently, he traveled 12 hours by bus just to have a normal face-to-face conversation. If he's listening to black metal, he wants it to scream out loud, or to create its own world by its own rules and be a fist in the face of everything that socially acceptable people do.

Although he knows a few classically trained guitarists, obsessed with technique, he hasn't witnessed any of them write a memorable riff and hates talking just for the sake of talking, just as playing just for the sake of playing. If you're alone, and lack social skills, why not take advantage of it? Do it dirty, raw and inhuman.

Arpeggios are showing off, and playing chord notes one by one shows discipline, both distorted and acoustic, but how interesting is it to listen to them, and barely anything else, all the time? Xasthur can get away with it because of the engaging rhythms, great sound and an untouchable atmosphere. Sombres Forets just places one part after the other in a lifeless fashion. But, "lifeless" and "technically superb" surely don't add up to "great." Just... pretentious.

Royaume de Glace sounds icy, but it doesn't feel cold. Maybe the one man making up this French Canadian band needs to spend more time alone and learn that you can convince by other means than doing one hard-to-play thing in different sequences and thinking that it will be perceives as a masterpiece. (5/10)

review by: Daniel Walker

According to the Occultum Productions' webpage, Crepuscule... has been sold out. This won't stop us from advertising it, though. Maybe there is a chance of obtaining it through some other channels. Or you might say we are doing this just to brag… but let's see about what.

Wedard's "Winterdepression"… perfect opening. Suicidal, depressive, rough and painful, the track is as good a claustrophobic black metal excursion as they get. Hordagaard continue with an even rougher sound, but the marching feeling and bestial screams suggest that there are underground Viking black bands deserving more attention that some of the "overground" acts. Gergovia's "Chant de Bataille" continues in a similar way, but twice louder and even a bit prouder. By now we have heard more great riffs and insane vocals than on three average black metal CDs.

Grimlair are, again, more silent, but even so, "End of Journey," gets a nod of approval for lo-fi black metal quality: effective and poignant while employing a bare minimum of effort. More torment is brought by Breizh Occult, who turn black metal scorching into a massive funereal dirge using the same minimum of effort, but a maximum of conviction. Already, Crepuscule... is a must-have on the first half alone.

Then, there's the more ambient, second half. Starting with Sombre Presage's decomposing ambient take on Chopin's "Marche Funebre," it is followed by Shadowdream's "Carstvo Tame" with a properly genuine, mournful intro (male choir, wind and ravens… but it sounds scarier than it reads) and a simplistic black metal continuation. Cimetiere hit the bottom of the lo-fi achievements on Crepuscule... but only by sound. The idea works. As if anyone doubted it would. Whoever Borgne are, "Akt 1.3" is more dirty, distorted, bass-heavy than any three other bands combined, but listen through the noise and notice the tiny, nervous, angular guitar, a human-sounding keyboard that shouldn't be there (or anywhere), but perfectly blends in. And the screams that are, and aren't. Weird enough to never appear anywhere above sea-level, but unearth it and you're rewarded with something very special.

Vader’s new era continues with XXV, a double CD album that sees the Polish juggernaut revisiting its past with 25 tracks from its complete discography (with original drummer Doc), all re-recorded with the band’s current line-up.

Since The Art of War EP, Vader has embraced a synthetically brutal sound. Luckily, it’s worked for them, and this in turn makes XXV relevant. The songs aren’t necessarily better, but they sound bigger, tighter, and faster, albeit the tightness’ authenticity (like all the material since The Art of War) could be slightly suspect.

As far as enjoyment goes, though, any suspicions are irrelevent, as XXV is a wonderful testament to this essential band’s ability to still sound fresh and energetic after something like 20 years in the scene, all the while revisiting some of its most essential songs.

The only major alarm is how bad the band gays it up on a handful of tracks by including cheesy mood keyboards, which is a major shock for one of the most square-shouldered, no-frills death metal kill machines in history. This album’s version of "Carnal" contains probably the most laughable keys, but it still manages to rip once those damned things subside. What was Vader thinking on that one? Still, the band manages to overcome that blunder to put out an album that will not only bring much enjoyment, but also inspire you to revisit the original, essential recordings. (8.9/10)

This is what happens when trying to be "progressive" is done right. Vulture Industries throw stuff in… lots and lots of stuff. The stuff that should work. The stuff that shouldn't work. Also, the stuff that couldn't possibly work together, as well as the stuff that usually does work, but where Vulture Industries actually put it. What do you get, if you don't look into the details too hard, are just good, normal songs. At least on the surface.

Sounds like a small miracle, but nothing on The Dystopia Journals gets in the way. Already the first few seconds could distract, with a drum roll, the riffs and the vocals starting simultaneously, but it’s done in such a way that no one could accuse Bjrrnar Erevik Nilsen of being mouthy. He knows when to do it, and when to shut up. Not where anyone else would do it, but then, not many singers have this many acrobatic vocal lines even in the normal places. Add to that the ludicrous way he sings. It might be Garm, it might be a grunge version of Glenn Danzig, or one hell of a screamer; but in the end it's one unique and convincing vocalist.

Another thing that shouldn't work but does (and without breaking a sweat) are the song tempos: listening to all the intensity changes, deliberate driving melodies, stuttering riffs, off-pattern drums, spacey or vintage keyboards, there's never a dull moment. Even the guitar solos sound as new and exciting as if you hadn't heard anyone do them in at least five years. Try to notice that the tempos hardly ever change… there's no point. One could even begin wondering if there's anything that could happen to spoil the way the songs flow, but these Norwegians never let you go.

Whatever kind of music it is, it is damn good. It might be avant-garde black metal, another side of industrial without any machinery, or a heavy metal band from the other side of the mirror. In any case, it’s irrelevant. Vulture Industries just make normal songs. Their own way. (9/10)

Close one ear and go to the other room, and you'll think there's something very interesting happening on this album, as The Void really know how to set the mood, use slight guitar fills, mid-tempo groove, two bass drums and generous swathes of keyboards. There are some very fine moments of desperation to be found here.

The Void are not a new and inexperienced band, after all: These Italians have been around for ten years, and obviously like doing what they do. The experience shows... in composition. It's just that The Void's performances can't pull it off.

The main problem is Diego Fogliacco, whose voice is as dull and embarrassing as his haircut (or is it a big woolly hat over his eyes?). So many good vocal lines, but the man can't make any of them sound interesting. Half the time it's not sure whether he's in key or not, and all the time his English is nothing but dodgy. Come to think of it, the lyrics sound like they were written by a self-important Christian who learned all his morals by watching soap operas.

As Fogliacco also plays the guitars and keyboards, and writes all the songs, maybe he should stick to what he knows and find The Void another singer. We recommend a female. If we imagined the same music, but with someone like Anette Olzon of Nightwish behind the microphone, the rating would have been 7.5/10. How about re-grouping and re-recording? (5.5/10)

Maybe you wouldn't turn the radio off if you heard The Man From the Moon playing, but most of you would not even remember it three tracks later. Some kind of a tribute to what used to be alternative or experimental back in the ‘60s, it is hard to believe that Rocket Attack was released by BlackMark, known primarily for Bathory (after all, the owner is Quorthon's father) and some quite good metal bands. The only connection could be a tribute track to Quorthon, a poignant ballad called "In Love and Memory"... but the rest?

How about some ZZ Top mixed with early David Bowie, Deep Purple or The Cult in their lightest, with anything from country and western ballads to old rock thrown in. Could have been good, but the way The Man From the Moon does it, it is nostalgic and sad, but for all the wrong reasons. If the music is supposed to make you sad, it is usually done through strong emotions, not through being substandard. Not that The Man From the Moon isn't trying --- the twelve tracks are all different, and have adequate structures and some driving, downtuned guitar riffs, and solid bass foundations. Even the simplistic, programmed drums fit in. Yet, the songs just go their own way without leaving a trace. The choruses sound familiar, the melodies aren't adventurous, and the vocals sound as if the only member was singing into his chin. And the lyrics... although the abovementioned "In Love and Memory" stands out, the rest is a hit-and-miss affair. Who would want to listen to a tribute to Quorthon on the same piece of round silvery plastic as "Warm Blooded Woman" or "Dance Mamma"? The Man From the Moon 's views on the president of the USA ("President of Madness") or computers ("Ice Man") could have been written by a schoolboy.

Witnessing an album like Rocket Attack, trying so hard not to be noticed, one can only wonder if the friendship (or whatever it was) between the owner of BlackMark and Micke (Mimo) Moberg, aka The Man From the Moon, really had to result in something like this. (4.1/10)

review by: Roberto Martinelli

You might not be able to delve into Rocket Attack on the same level as our diligent (see, borderline masochistic) reviewer Mladen did. Put in the CD and be so underwhelmed by the opening lyrics that culminate in a chorus sung with so much anti-gusto and ambivalence in general that you’ll think, if the The Man From the Moon can’t be bothered to be the least bit interested in his own songs, why should you? (2/10)

Did you hear the one about the record didn't become "album of the year" because it was too good? No? Well, you're not going to hear it now, either. Sagas is Equilibrium's second album, and although these Germans have changed a major part of their line-up, it still destroys. Really destroys. But, with a Viking metal album, there is a certain something you always expect: a point of connection, a warrior spirit, some lunacy and a primeval feeling… if possible. Not in Equilibrium's case, they are all about ravaging.

Which is not that bad, really. Sagas sounds like a combination of Moonsorrow epic, Finntroll melodic, Turisas bombastic and Korpiklaani folk all at once, presented through a modern approach. Marvelous to listen to, splendid to headbang along with, and almost too wild to air-guitar to. But evocative, it is not. The bookends suggest it should be: "Prolog auf Erden" is a heart-stopping intro. Just listen to the ultra-powerful sound, the most poignant of all melodies, a blastbeat where you would never have dreamed for it to appear… and then the scream: a real, bloody, throat-ripping one. Ready for the trip of your life?

However, that was all that will bring tears to your eyes until the last track, "Mana," a nearly 17-minute epic instrumental. The rest, the 11 in-between tracks, are not epic, poignant or touching… just fun. Already, the second track sounds like it had nothing to do with the intro and makes us wonder what sense it makes to put a galloping Korpiklaani-on-speed song so early on the album… unless it was going to go on this way. And it is. Compared to Korpiklaani, Equilibrium is louder, harder, wilder and more brutal, but even though it suggests to be epic, it won’t call anyone into battle.

The folk instruments play breakneck melodies, the guitar action never stops, the screams continue and the elements change. Then, you realize that some elements don't really belong, and the further you delve into Sagas, the more of those elements you discover. Some licks and breaks sound okay. For showing off, the rocking parts could have been left out and, really, instead of piling them up, the melodies could have had some more space to breathe. At about the fourth song, the screams become bland. On the second half of the album, there are finally some tracks suggesting melancholy, but by that time it's hard to believe Equilibrium really mean it.

The parts constituting Sagas are exceptionally well performed, and the songs have enough diversity for casual listening. However, try to listen to it through headphones and in the dark and it soon becomes random, bland… 80 minutes of noise. Equilibrium really overdid it. However, if your Viking philosophy is as simple as "when in doubt, destroy," and you really know more about muscles than about feelings — Equilibrium might have done it just right. (6.5/10)

Zombies on metal album covers — last October we had Denial Fiend, and last January we had Facebreaker with pictures from the undead, rising from the grave, or gnawing on the limbs of unfortunate souls. Those associations with metal are so stamped into collective memory that we take them for granted. Human zombies have become as common as if they were a race of their own. But then… just look at the front picture from this album from Venomous Concept, a project with leading man Shane Embury from Napalm Death, and you’ll encounter a new kind of horror: Poor pink bunnies: Maimed! Mutilated! Dead! Their entrails hanging out of their bellies, their skulls exposed. They’re leaving behind a trail of blood! Terrible!

Apart from Shane Embury, Venomous Concept also includes fellow Napalmer Danny Herrera on drums, and from Brutal Truth Kevin Sharp (vocals) and Danny Lilker (on bass). Their brand of grind, hardcore and punk draws a heavy inspiration from illustrious groups like Black Flag, Poison Idea and Systematic Death. In a short timespan of 40 minutes, 17 titles flash by with not one clocking past the three-minute mark.

"Drop Dead" is a perfect opener, an irresistable fast hardcore burst of screaming adrenaline with very life-affirming four-chord stupidity. Some songs are unmistakably Napalm Death-oriented, like the furious "Toxic Kiss," which brings back to life the glorious former days of Napalm Death’s debut, Scum. Other jewels of classic grindcore brutality are "Every Mother’s Son," "Check Out," "Hero," and "Screwball." The killer bass intro of "Artist Friendly" has a sound that is so typical for Shane Embury you could pick it out of a hundred other songs. Some songs begin deceivingly slow, like "Chaos," before exploding with a glorious frenzy.

In the mid-‘80s, Napalm Death had depressing and existentialist songtitles of just one or two words followed by a question mark, like the classics called "Life?," "Success?," "Inconceivable?," and "Your Archievement?." On "Poisoned Apple," there are a couple songs in tribute of this old tradition, namely the songs "Half Full?" and "Think?."

Not every song is lightning fast or so short it’s over in the wink of an eye. Longer songs like "Water Cooler," "Half Full?," and "Check Out" are all around the three-minute mark and offer a bit more variation in their structure.

But don’t be fooled by that, they are not half meant as resting points on the album, only examples that Venomous Concept can operate at different gears of velocity, be it at breakneck speed or with a brooding menace.

Obviously, this has been a very successful attempt of tough hardcore/grindcore veterans trying to revive the spirit of how things used to be around the mid-‘80s, because they are able to convey this spirit to the present day without too much effort.

One thing that is a little sloppy, however, is the way that they didn’t make the production of a constant sound quality throughout. As good as songs like "P.R.I." or "White Devil" may be, they sound like they were mastered from a low bitrate mp3. Sometimes the hi-hat and drum cymbals sound remarkably smothered.

This noticeable inconsistency between songs not a good blend, even though this may just have been the result of different recording sessions. But when another great song like "Workers Unite" comes, again with a total no-brainer bunch of chords, this shortcoming poses no real threat to enjoyment.

But just like it’s really quite a short album, it’s a modest enjoyment — a hardcore in-betweenie with bite. Enjoy this poisoned apple. It’s got your name on it! (6/10)

It's hard not to notice Dantesco, even at casual listening. Very deliberate, traditional heavy / doom metal riffs with an extremely thick, maybe even too clear, guitar sound, are one thing. The fact that they always know what to do is another. And then, when you hear that the Puerto Ricans actually sing in Spanish — well, that's still a minor issue compared to the way they use it. The singer isn't going by the name Erico La Bestia without a reason.

Even though the music is (if not original) rock-solid doom metal, the vocals take the prize. This La Bestia person uses a very powerful variation of classically trained vocals. Be it tenor or baritone, it is irrelevant. But the lunacy in the way they are employed just makes you grin (if it doesn't downright scare you). Apparently Big Boss of Root has a Puerto Rican counterpart. We couldn't find who exactly does the other part: vicious, high-pitched vocals with a ludicrous vibrato, but whoever it is, even they are also done by La Bestia, they are as much a pain as a pleasure to listen to.

Vocals aside, musically, Dantesco are proficient but maybe not as catchy or memorable as their role models. Slowed down Iron Maiden riffs with some of the Candlemass epic feeling can be done slightly better, but, admittedly, also way worse. As long as Dantesco keep on reinventing them song after song they'll keep you occupied, but after the last, 11th track, you will not be humming as many of them as you might have expected.

For the pure enjoyment, Dantesco don't disappoint. There is a feeling of listening to evocative stories about history, religion and desolation, as told by experienced storytellers. As lunatic as it might seem, still, it could have been more so. But as long as Pagano is playing, it is a unique experience. (7.5/10)

Damn. When severely depressed, what do you listen to? Certainly not Tiamat. Anathema is a good choice — now, their music is so hopelessly sad that it actually makes you feel better… when you realize that at least you're not in such a desperate state of mind as their singer, you know you're not at the very bottom, and there still might be a chance of getting up. But if you're actually in a good mood and have every intention of spoiling it, then, by all means, get the new Tiamat, Amanethes, and be as betrayed, abandoned, forsaken and pathetic as you want. It's good at making you all that.

There's no use in trying to compare Amanethes to the revered old Tiamat albums… those were then and this is now. Amanethes’ fourteen tracks are as straightforward as possible, with no experiments in the song structures. Even less to ponder is the lyrics, from normal to blunt ("why have you forsaken me... why have you betrayed me..." or something like that, if you can make it to the last track without slashing your veins open).

There are the standard rocking tracks as well as the laid-back Pink Floyd ones, and as a whole, Amanethes has all the diversity necessary to describe various stages of misery. It can be triumphant, as in "Equinox of the Gods," which even employs a few blastbeats, but miserably progressing through the tracks there is less and less hope. The bastards. Get you up once, down twice, then (maybe) up once again, but then, down four times as hard. Around the eighth, called "Raining Dead Angels," Amanethes again becomes angry and screaming, but after that... it's Misantropolis. Yes the lyrics are still blunt, but the mood doesn't demand them to be anything else.

Zero Hour quietly continues their progressive metal institution on their fifth album, Dark Deceiver. This four-piece from the sleepy Northern California town of Santa Rosa, California, has carved out its sound and personality through albums that are as busy and technical as they come in the genre.

Zero Hour’s M.O. is via nigh-impenetrable guitar and bass noodling over jagged odd-time rhythms that pale only in density to the guitars. Even the band’s musical breaks are technical and alienating. All the while, the melodic vocals wail away, trying to get a melodic foothold, but generally not achieving it.

This is the issue with the great bulk of Zero Hour’s work. As much as they have their easily recognizable sound, and for all their instrumental chops, their music often seems to sacrifice quality for showmanship. Like their previous album, Specs of Pictures Burnt Beyond, Dark Deceiver is generally devoid of any memorability. For the last bit of a hook, you’ll have to look back two albums ago to A Fragile Mind, and ironically, the most memorable elements of that album were played down in the songs.

Zero Hour might be a band better suited for progressive music fans that enjoy their listening experiences purely on a cerebral, mathematical level. But most listeners, who connect to music more on an emotional, visceral level, will find Zero Hour’s albums go by with only a general sense of having existed. For an album that does the trick of marrying dizzying technicality with memorable songs, look to something like Twisted Into Form, also on the Sensory label. (6.3/10)

Capitollium's brand of symphonic black metal may not break any new ground, but nonetheless, their fourth album is an interesting affair. Ignore the fact that their land of origin is Ukraine, as on Bloodfall of Flesh there's nothing you'd usually expect from a band coming from there. Instead, it is more interesting to observe how many influences they have blended into a sound of their own.

Admittedly, Bloodfall of Flesh doesn't exactly connect to the listener on a physical level, either. So, if it lacks in the originality or awesomeness departments, it makes up for by being interesting in other things. For starters, their musicianship and playing style is on Behemoth's level, but it's harder to notice it because the thin guitar sound and black metal vocals don't make the music thrash as much as just lay the information in front of you. Then, Capitollium also manage to make the Behemoth bit sound like Dimmu Borgir, and skillfully include some early Cradle of Filth trademarks: female vocals, church-like keyboards and a few poignant guitar melodies. All the influences are clearly audible and well blended. Yet, in 2008, they don't sound as fresh as they might have been in 1998. Back then, Capitollium would have been one of the promising symphonic black metal bands, with enough diversity to make their music appeal to fans of Cradle of Filth or Dimmu Borgir, but without the personality to make it stand out.

All in all, Bloodfall of Flesh isn't bad, and Capitollium probably mean it. Go to their website and read the "quasi Christian jokes." Still, it's not essential, but listening to the great bass lines and the vicious riffs going by, without really hitting us, we wish it was. (6.9/10)

note by: Roberto Martinelli

I move to start a worldwide metal police. The first order of this governing body would be to charge a fine for any band that chooses that piece of Hieronymus Bosch’s painting depicting hell, the same piece of a painting that like, 18,000,000 other bands have used. I’d say at least 100 Euros. Capitollium, pay up.

This follow-up to last year’s Erotikon contains much older material that had a seen much more limited release in Europe and Russia. Dystopian Partycollection’s songs seethe with considerably more menace than much of Erotikon. Take a track like "Drugmother," with its intro sample of a particularly scary-ass dictator screaming at his citizens over a distorted microphone. This really draws you into a minimalistic ambient waste zone where self-abasement is law. Deutsch Nepal’s vokills then fly with a twinge of M. Gira and Roger Waters.

"City of Stone" is one you might have to actually turn down, lest the panning, high-pitched sonic assault hurt your ears. Now THAT is the sign of perfection. This is by far one of the best tracks on the album, a real dirge ballad with pitch-dark voicings. Deutsch Nepal’s recurring graphic motif is a braying assault dog, which seems most appropriate for this slab of frightful noise.

A common technique on the tracks "Of Parasites and Disguises" and "Bird of Steel" is to bury his singing a bit deeper in the mix, while rhythmic synth drone pads intoxicate the listener. "Chatrine I from Above" and "Wroclow Anthem" don’t contain any singing at all, but rather repeat mournful synth lines atop looping, minimalistic rhythms.

"Problem" is where the hate REALLY lets loose! Just plain wow to the combination of deep distortion, church organ, and screamed lyrics. Closing song "Neris of Tears" is much more restrained, an almost soothing reassurance that, judging from the rest of this album’s content, you should not be allowed to lull anyone into a false sense of security. (8/10)

Common Grave's blessing seems to also be their curse: while they excel at describing the depression and melancholy that their debut seems to reach for, they never entirely accomplish leaving an impression of listening to someone actually going through it.

Il Male di Vivere is a complex black metal cascade of mournful minor-key melodies and minor chords, and it is really well done. The guitars wonder through all the darkened areas where they could feel at home, never ceasing doing something, yet always fleeting before leaving an impression. On one side, this is a good thing: if life is as pointless as Common Grave see it, nothing is certain and nothing really has a meaning, no matter how complex the nightmare might be. But then… whose depression is it? The clean passages sound solemn and serious, but none of them has a carrying theme. The situation is better with the black metal aspect: Some themes vary, repeat and return, but still most of them bear no other purpose but being there, for better or for worse. The same goes for the vocals: The screams are there, and there is not much more to be said about them.

As elaborated and melancholic as it is, Il Male di Vivere could have benefited from more personality. It's not to say that Common Grave are just another Italian black metal band — they are not — but a few moments of outright aggression wouldn't detract from the depressive bit. We have a feeling they would make it stronger. (6.5/10)

Strange band, this. Grey Daturas are an avant-garde Australian trio, having heavily toured, but without rehearsing. They don't have actual songs or melodies. Instead, they just start playing and see where it takes them. For their second release, the modus operandi was slightly different: First, they spent three months recording it, and fifteen months assembling the pieces, collaging, cutting and pasting, and generally making everything sound right where and how they wanted it.

In the end, it still sounds like improvisation --- a great achievement. The tracks are partly sludgy instrumental stoner, with a wall of guitars, one driving rhythm throughout, wah-driven, painful melodies and repetition, but not always the same percussion. It’s hypnotic, bewildering and mind bending, but in theory.

However, the main riffs simply aren't anything new, so instead of letting yourself go, you can't help thinking of where you've heard them before. Then, the other tracks… they disintegrate. Now, those have no melodies whatsoever, just the sounds made by contact microphone feed back, scrap metal, hardware materials and tools, violin, saxophone and electronics. Those are fairly interesting for someone with post-modern affinities, but then, most will just hear bland noise. It's listenable, no mistake, but it doesn't do anything mental. Essentially, Grey Daturas aren't convincing.

By all accounts, Return to Disruption should be one hell of a CD. Still, after probably 20 spins, in every possible condition except drunk or stoned, it leaves us cold. But hey, for those of you into illegal substances, it might work. (5.6/10)

Sometimes we the writers discuss how good it could have been for us if we were in the reviewing "business" back in the ‘90s, when there were fresh and exciting black metal albums coming from everywhere. Most of them would be good, or at least interesting, and there probably wouldn't be as many clueless bands as today. You know the sort: Grab a chord, move it slowly up and down the fretboard, play something monotonous on the drums, scream a bit and say that you're "ambient" as an excuse for not having real riffs, convictions, or, simply… balls.

Anthology should make a few blackened hearts start beating faster. Now THAT is the feeling: swirling… and meaningful! Tremolo riffs, throat-ripping screams and, overall, the kind of sound that makes your teeth vibrate. Not to mention the easily discernible songs, a triumphant feeling... and the drums. Even if they play monotonous for a while, it doesn't sound monotonous. It sounds stubborn and demented. And that's before you hear them really go off. Then it's "run for your life, this one means it." Anthology could (or couldn't) be original, but this is of so little importance when you actually hear it.

Where did Anthology come from? The inscription says "true Icelandic black metal," so that's one clue. The other is the main man — Eldur — and Thule is only the initial name of Curse, a band he would take to even greater heights later, while, at the same time, doing other icy things with Potentiam or Sykdom. The tracks on Anthology were recorded between 1995 and 1997 (yes, almost in the "fresh and exciting" era) and, as a bonus track, one of them was re-recorded (by Curse, in 2007). Maybe it's there just to complete the circle. Or to show that, even though Curse, today, go in many directions, the madness is still here. (7.5/10)

Nervous Circuits was released ten years ago, but after being unavailable for many years now, it has been re-issued as a re-master, with a DVD containing lots of live footage.

From early ’95 to mid ’97, The VSS, from San Fransisco, created what they liked to call "punked-up robotic noise." They were a short-lived follow-up to Angel Hair (described by some as hardcore emo or "screamo") and were inspired by bands like These Arms Are Snakes, The Faint, and Death From Above.

Nervous Circuits is, on first listen, quite an imaginative and inspired album. Better yet, it is a manic, "haunted" keyboard-driven frenzy with a furious cold rock approach, somehow like the stubbornness and venom of John Lydon’s P.I.L. and Steve Albini’s Shellac.

Nervous Circuits is anger squeezed from a high desperate voice, like an existentialist poet attempting to spit in the face of God, only to see gravity have the laust laugh.

It’s a short album, just 32:23 minutes long, and though Hydra Head could have easily pasted the singles collection "21:51" behind it for the sake of completeness, it’s also good is that the first 1000 copies of this re-issue include the interesting bonus CD, The Skin of Tiny Teeth. On it are five studio rarities and nine live songs from a radio broadcast.

This is a more than worthwhile extra, because the DVD features lots of live footage of disappointing, mostly distorted audio quality. That doesn’t say that the material (compiled from six concerts from between November ’96 and June ’97) is entirely useless, because at least it shows what an intense and manic band this was, jumping around like madmen on speed while the keyboardist vertically see-sawed his instrument. In a way, it explains The VSS’ short-livedness: they burnt themselves up.

With each listen, Nervous Circuits improves in hindsight, partly because of the album’s paradox being uncompromising and challenging, yet sounding polished and excellently produced. Many songs trancend seamlessly into one another, and although the scream-singing appears to be all over the place, there is also room for a few beautiful instrumentals. One of the best here is the utterly funereal "Effigy," which is short in length, but gloomy like an endless grey and rainy Sunday.

Hydra Head were right to bring the qualities of this album under the attention of people unaware of the lost treasures from the ‘90s.

Nervous Circuits has the aura of a classic and great rock album, yet it is hostile with its twisted electronics and melodies perfectly unfit to hum along to. The VSS would be a good example of music that has one foot in sensibility, while having the other one in neurosis. Nervous Circuits was a successfull experiment in finding a balance between two extremes. (8/10)

Carved in Stone is a shift back for Rage from its most progressive work to more simple, cut-and-dried songs. Not too surprising considering how Speak of the Dead incorporated the "Lingua Mortis Orchestra" more than ever. They don’t seem to make an appearance here.

Carved in Stone is a strong record, probably as strong as Soundchaser, for example, but it sounds more generic and less inspired than Speak of the Dead, not only in the less flavorful drumming (Mike Terrana is no longer in the band), but also in the vocal lines and guitar leads. The hooks are there, but the effect is as often memorable because of its cheesy, pop-rock-esque annoyance factor than it’s not.

But don’t misunderstand, Carved in Stone is unmistakably Rage, featuring melodic hooks that this band has honed after loads of albums, and fans of the band can get behind the record. It just might not be the album to draw new people in like Speak of the Dead is. (7/10)

What’s with people who don't like Rigor Sardonicous? Really, it's one of the most fun metal bands ever, with the least human sound a funeral doom band has ever created. Surely, they are the equivalent of those B-class horror movies, where everything is created with $20 and a rented van, and they've always found them brilliant for that reason. Granted, if Bach were alive, he'd probably beat the shit out of them, but that's half the point. The other half is just how inhumanly heavy they are.

If you haven't heard them before, they sound like a slowed-down version of a normal goregrind band, mixed with Mortician. Downtuned guitars (to the point of sounding like random rumbling sometimes), pitchshifted and echoed vocals that sound completely artificial, and the least natural drum programming this side of Suicide.

If you look at it from a traditional point of view, Vallis Ex Umbra De Mortuus is severely amateur. The thing is, simplistic or not, formulaic or not, they beat most funeral doom bands at their own game.

Ok, so if it's subpar and absolutely mechanical, then what's so good about it? Just one thing, the most important thing: It's fun. Really, like those horror movies, you'll be listening and say, "hey, this is cheap," but immediately after that you'll say, "holy shit, this is extreme." It's a cycle that lasts for as long as you listen to it, and that's the reason why they get such a high rating.

Seriously, you haven't heard many albums as brutal as Vallis Ex Umbra De Mortuus, or as uncompromised as it, and if you did, then they surely weren't as fun as this. You might be thinking "Fun? In my doom metal? Outrageous!". It does sound outrageous, but you'll understand better if you do listen to it.

Even if I'd welcome a small change, it's just another Rigor Sardonicous album, with everything that "another Rigor Sardonicous album" means: complete disregard for traditional technicality and simplistic structures, the cheap and "is this for real?" feeling we love, and some high doses of good old brutality, the way we like it. And, as an extra, the opportunity to see the band playing three songs live. I'll just say that the horrible quality of those videos plus the fact that they are only two guys makes them lose some of the magic. It's still a good extra, anyway. (8.2/10)

review by: Daniel Walker

If the dead had a band that they listened to regularly, it would
probably be Rigor Sardonicous.

Vallis Ex Umbra de Mortuus is the most recent album from these titans of raw sewer doom and it will undoubtedly frighten those not accustomed to extreme metal. Even seasoned metalheads will endure shock as they hear the ridiculously downtuned quicksand riffing that feels like trudging through the swamp at night with an anchor around each foot. If that didn't do the trick, Joseph Fogarazzo's bowel-shaking necro bellow most certainly will.

Rigor Sardonicous is one of the few funeral doom bands whose songwriting is listenable and, dare I say, catchy. Fogarazzo's vocals have an unearthly presence that trumps run-of-the-mill death metal bands and they don't bog their sound down with hackneyed organ or
keyboard arrangements: it's all drums, bass, guitar, and tambourine. Vallis is not music that mimics an actual funeral — it actually connotes the far more sinister and mysterious implications of what happens beyond the grave.

However, that's not to say the music is without any sentimental touches. "Silens Somnium" opens up a dialogue between a recently deceased daughter and her mother, and "Mane de Maeroris" is a sullen plea to the angels for salvation. It's a very simple chant with flute and horribly off-key singing, but in this case being off-key adds to its charm and humility.

Even though Vallis fits the criteria for funeral doom pretty well, some
of the tracks have a higher tempo than the norm for the genre. The band themselves said they were trying something new for this album by speeding up the tempo in spots, but don't expect anything fast or even what's considered mid-tempo for most rock and metal. It straddles the line between an oppressive crunch and a modest churn.

One of the other surprises of this album is the clean drum sound. Whereas guitar and bass are stuck in the mire (that's a good thing here), Perce steals the show with deft rolls and fills that burst out of the rotting seams like maggots out of an open wound. He could be using triggers at times, but it's thrilling to hear that dichotomy of fuzzy and clear, whereas you could reasonably expect every aspect of the sound to be murky.

Vallis Ex Umbra de Mortuus is one of the doomiest albums in recent memory and is best listened to at night with all the lights turned off. However, if you want to listen to it at eight o' clock in the morning, no one's stopping you. I've done it before. (8.5/10)

PS: The disc includes live videos of "Human Rot," "Soulless Extinction," and "Jewish Massacre"; you know, in case you need proof that those vocals are coming from a human being.

Poland’s Riverside has a good reputation amongst prog rock fans. Their style relies heavily on Porcupine Tree as inspiration. Take the melodic yet metal driven Porcupine Tree songs of the new millennium, mix them with spacey electronics in the tradition of Porcupine Tree’s early output and you get Riverside (at least as far as this album is concerned).

This electro-prog attitude is enhanced by a dominant industrial touch, making the band sound more idiosyncratic, but the slightly muffled production (a notable usage of fuzz/echo and lack of sharpness on the high notes) fails to cover up a lack of refinement. Simply put, Riverside’s personnel is not in the league of the band they follow (musically that is, nothing personal here), in terms of both technical and compositional levels, and the result is an album which is a bit monotonic as a whole.

Still, some of the songs have a lasting impact, mostly due to a persuasive vocal performance and jumpy bass work. "02 Panic Room" is definitely one of the highlights — its first part is reminiscent of The Tea Party's 1997 industrial rock masterpiece "Transmission," utilizing fancy keyboards and digitized beats; while its mellow closing verses rely almost solely on the emotive delivery of the beautiful lyrics ("I’ve tried to make self-portraits before/ through my eyes just see myself/ now I know/ I'm not in denial/ that I need someone else/ to see me"). (7/10)

There's always been this curse for genres based mostly on image. Gothic, for instance, has always been a genre for pretty people (or people who want to feel pretty) to play, and just because of that it wasn't ever pushed to its limits. It's always worked comfortably inside the boundaries established by most of its fans, people more into how cool whatever the singer is wearing than how good the music actually is. It was even that way for the "punkier" death rock as well.

Somewhere in between now and then, however, it started to lose whatever respect it had from the "music community" and it ended up just being an outdated fashion sense for people who hate life or something as cheesy as that. Thankfully, things have changed and the now convergent group of genres associated to gothic started churning out good artists. Rome, coming from the martial side of it, is one of the best new examples. As in, it's actually music.

Rome takes the most traditional gothic atmosphere (sound-wise) and mixes it with a pop edge for a more structured sound, but at the same time with an apocalyptic folk feeling, making Rome impossible to pinpoint. Or, more concisely, it takes the best out of all those genres. It sounds like Dead Can Dance, but it's thematically much clearer. It sounds like Current 93, but it doesn't drag on for what seems forever. It has a certain Sisters of Mercy sound here and there, but it won't bore you to tears with songs so dull and similar to each other that you'll want to stab your eyes out.

There's actual playing going on here. Synths aren't the only thing featured, the vocalist isn't just a guy with a deep voice, and the songs weren't composed just so they'd be able to dress funny and showcase their fashion sense. All the opposite: The songs are well-crafted, well-produced and well-played. If you think gothic is still the music-devoid genre it was some years ago, Masse Mensch Material is a good rebuttal. And a good album too. (7.9/10)

This 1989 recording finds Ray Russell leading a bunch of talents (amongst these are some of his frequent collaborators — sax player Iain Ballamy, bassist Mo Foster and drummer Simon Phillips) through jazz rock compositions that are eloquent and bright, so much that even the slightly dated ‘80s production cannot cloud them.

The Russell compositions included here are often reflective, but the reflectiveness never comes in place of the joy of life. On "Guadeloupe," for instance, Russell takes a festive, leisurely Caribbean theme, treated delicately and with restraint, and mixes it with jazz rock exercises (mainly on piano and electric guitar) that offer some invigorating moments... an arrangement that actually saves the theme from turning into something cheap (or boring).

Russell's guitar lines flow fluently, sometimes sustained and aqueous, sometimes (yet less often) juggling, and the horns are breezy rather than intrusive. But don’t let these mislead you, though, as things do tend to flare every now and then. One such case is "Avian," which starts by delivering a pastoral scene with Tony Hymas’s elusive, free formed piano, and strokes of Stuart Brookes’s trumpet and Ray Warleigh’s bass clarinet, before Russell’s takes an articulate, short yet vital solo on his electric guitar. (6.25/10)

Allegiance of Darkness is epic, nasty symphonic black metal spawned from the depths of one woman’s soul. The gifted and demonic Belita creates a crazy backdrop of buzzing guitars, funerary piano, and clashing steel. There hasn’t been anything THIS original since Australia’s own Hrimthurs.

Perhaps most notable are her vokills — you can tell she’s been classically trained, but when she’s not vetting screams or gutturals, Belita summons a somehow conversational, Satanic preacher’s voice to relay her invocations. It’s really engaging, and also disquieting.

Each song on this CD is an entity unto itself. There are the fast bits — almost VON-nish three-chord minimalism in "Calling the Evil to Prayer" and "Comfort in the Darkness." These give way to some great BM dirge in "Ritual of Destruction." The guitar is not always the dominant instrument. Classical piano haunts the soundscape equally, serpentlike and full of heedless melancholy.

"Allegiance of Darkness" and "Vampyre Demonicus" are totally old school speed metal throughout, whereas others like "Blood Benediction" will shift modes from total blast to more mid-paced, latter Bathory warmarch. There is so much black metal defiance on this release, it’s enough to make you think, "Damn, this is what Dimmu Borgir COULD have been. This is what Dark Funeral SHOULD BE!"

The promo we got seems to be from a very limited run of copies. If the above description of this ESSENTIAL black metal project has diddled your inner demon, get in touch with Satanic Corpse through http://www.demonicarecords.com. (10/10)

Doom metal bands tend to reside in the shadows, rarely emerging from their comfortable darkness. Alive since the early ‘90s, Syrach hasn’t got an impressively extensive discography. The second album is here to demonstrate the levels of crepuscular energy that this Norwegian group is able to produce.

The guitars are somber, yet murderous. The vocals are as intense as the supernova of a dusky universe, sometimes accompanied by the guest vocals of Grutle Kjellson of Enslaved and Silje Wergeland of Octavia Sperati. The songs are coarse yet refined; raw, yet dextrous. (7/10)

The first section offers seven songs, some of them more elaborate than others, but all are charming. Andy Tillison, the undisputed leader of The Tangent, is a great songwriter, both lyrically and musically.

The lyrics offer some sharp, cynical views of our modern, technology-reliant world. This is perhaps most obvious on "The Ethernet," which features the brilliant line "She saves her life on tiny discs / they're not backed up / but she'll take that risk;" and on the title track, which concludes "what happened to the future? / It's not as good as the book."

The music blends everything that is good about progressive rock: Fine musicianship is evident throughout, and channeled towards dramatic, at times cathartic, and at others, ethereal songs.

The sarcastic, upbeat "A Crisis in Mid Life" features some purposely cheesy ‘80s keyboards and like the other "simple" song of the bunch (the self proclaimed biker song "Bat out of Basildon"), it is a fun rock song that benefits from an extra touch of instrumentation.

Contradicting the first song's impression, "Lost in London Twenty Five Years Later" opens with a fuzzy keyboard line that builds into a magnificent refreshment of the ‘70s Canterbury scene (think Dave Stewart?), with soft jazz-rock maneuvers entwined into a detailed composition. "A Sale of Two Souls" is also notable for fusing the Van Der Graaf Generator cathartic inferno with some acoustic, rural sceneries and the grin typical of Jethro Tull.

The heavenly female vocals with which the second CD opens cleverly distinguish it from the first, as this second set comprises two far more serious compositions. Not sparing on words (sometimes at the account of melodies), each of the pieces clocks at over 20 minutes, flowing comfortably with the help of some recurring motifs.

The first epic, "Four Egos One War," is basically a leftist observation of war. The second, "The Full Gamut," is more interesting in its ambition, as it is probably the longest prog-rock piece ever written about relationship. Still, it is a far cry from Peter Hammill's "This Side of the Looking Glass," which obviously served as an inspiration, but never reaching a like climax.

Even though the second CD misses the spark of the first, "Not As Good As The Book" is a must for progressive rock aficionados. (8/10)

If you’re a fan of extremism, it’s a pretty safe bet that Copromesis’ Muay Thai Ladyboys alone will provide you with purchase satisfaction. The sickening, alluring artwork of a sickly, impossibly elfin maiden wearing boxing gloves and with flies buzzing around her turns out to be, when you unfold the booklet, a grotesque she-male with a set of male genitals so large that the characters in Kevin Taylor’s "The Girl" graphic novel series are feeling inadequate.

Open up the booklet and you’ll be "treated" to photos of Thai she-males so feminine, you might not be able to resist regularly reaching around on your current ladyfriend to make sure you didn’t somehow miss anything up till now. Last Days of Humanity might have maxed out the skin-crawling disgust with their grotesque depictions of human suffering and death, and Waco Jesus cemented their place with photos of coprophagia, but damn it if no one has endeavored to exploit one of the last untouched bastions of depravity in metal: transsexuals. Hahahaha.

Muay Thai Ladyboys’ music isn’t *quite* up to the impact its packaging has, but it’s still good fun in terms of being rampantly obnoxious, muddled, obscure, determined, lo-fi goregrind with an (un)healthy dose of technical proficiency (read: retardation). The songs range from short and sweet gurgling wig-outs, fronted by demented, bestial vocals, to extended forays into disgusting musical territories. You kind of can’t help but like this band for making this album. If there ever was a record NOT to download, here it is. What, are you gonna gross out your bros with an mp3? (7/10)

Team Robespierre is the result of the rise of electronic bands to indie credibility, such as Justice and Daft Punk, and it serves as a testament to the fact that dance punk can work, but it's still not mature enough.

Like those bands, Team Robespierre uses rhythms more common in dance than in punk music, with catchy bubblegum synth bass lines and fairly traditional chord progressions, but also with punk vocals and distorted guitars. In a way, it does sound really MIDI-like, but there's enough timbre variation as not to alienate the listener with monotonous samples. Don't think that Everything's Perfect is an 8-bit album, though, it's just synth-based, but not as retro.

Of course, Team Robespierre is nowhere near Atom and His Package or even LCD Soundsystem's punkier stuff. With a short, 18-minute running time, Everything’s Perfect comes out as a fun, catchy, and attention-grabbing album, but also as a highly inconsequential and overly simple work without any pretentions.

Not everything's perfect on Everything's Perfect (woohoo! cheap wordplay!). Some melodies aren't so catchy and sometimes, they try to be as punk as possible and that doesn't work in a dance punk context. After all, dance punk works because it's not pure punk and it's not dance, either. And really, they are much better at grabbing your attention with melodies and not with their punk attitude. Still, Everything's Perfect is a party album, something that "indie" clubs should play at least once every night. We aren't talking about a legendary album here, but it's still worth the 18 minutes and many more. (6.8/10)

The first noticeable thing about Third Degree’s second release, Punk Sugar, was the ghastly colours on the cover, with baby pink and blue. After that came the somewhat distressing facial expression of the girl. She’s holding a stick of cotton candy and upon closer examination, the famous face from the shroud of Turin is revealed. It is believed by many to be a cloth worn by Jesus Christ at the time of his burial, two days prior to his alleged resurrection. Oh, sweet Jesus! The effect is twisted weirdness looking like a still from a music video like Soundgarden’s "Black Hole Sun." No, really.

The picture even gets more bizarre when seeing the same image on the inlay beneath the CD, where the already sinister girl re-appears even more unpleasantly with corpsepaint adorned with a bloody looking make-up treatment. Looking like that she could be easily competing with Regan, the demonized schoolgirl from the Excorcist movie, for the satanic visage awards.

Third Degree’s stuff is far more twisted than the misleading title suggests. The title "Punk Sugar" hides the talents of the guitarist and drummer from Non Opus Dei. Last year, Maelstrom discussed their release, The Quintessence. which was remarkable for its skillfully executed progressive black metal. Considering that, you might refuse to believe that Punk Sugar has anything in common with radio-friendly skatepunk or emocore. Fortunately enough, it is indeed nothing like that.

Some say this is grindcore, but that description is not entirely accurate. While it does have an aggressive aspect of grindcore (for its blastbeat violence), Punk Sugar also features elements of metalcore (for its fast-paced 4/4 beat urgency), black metal (for the occasional chords from the abyss of hatred) and something of a rot ‘n’ roll attitude (for its headbang value grooviness).

The songs on Punk Sugar are very contagious bursts of energy — some extremely short, some slower and longer. The drums are flexible and imaginative. The best examples are songs like the bouncing "12 Millions" and the slow and menacing "Dead Will," also featuring an incredibly deep and metallic killer bass. The main vocals are snarled angrily in a manner that makes you wonder if there could be anything more fitting.

To complement this, there are also some great backing screaming gaia vocals in the style that Napalm Death used to have. Speaking of Napalm Death, there are a few very short songs like "So Long Bastards" (8 seconds), and "Manipulation (10 seconds), which seem like a hats-off to Napalm’s classic "You Suffer," the song that made the Guinness Book of Records as the shortest recorded song ever (1.316 seconds).

In a flash-by mode it’s hard to not like Punk Sugar. Why? Because it’s bad tempered, vicious, hectic and buzzing with negativity. This is combined with a solid production created in Poland’s relatively well-known Studio X by producer Simon Czech (who also did work for Non Opus Dei and other bands like Panzer X, Antigama and Dominium).

However, when having listened to Punk Sugar for about 10 times, it becomes evident that the songs are really of uneven quality. Some are rather common for what they are (just straightforward fast songs), and a few others — ironically, the slower ones — stand out for their grimness. With its limited playing time of little over 30 minutes, Punk Sugar eventually doesn’t make a very coherent impression, which is not helped much by ultra-short blank shots and a messy, uncredited, session left-over bonus track. On a 45-minute album they would be allright to be there, but it’s harder to see the point of their inclusion here.

Judging from all this, Punk Sugar is an album that could have been a really good one. It gains points on energy and production, but those points are unfortunately levelled by the lack of consistency and discipline. Therefore, "very good" just remains "nice." Nice punk sugar. (6.75/10)

Island brings together elements of death metal, post-rock, and a bit of post-hardcore. Orakel is a tremendously epic, heavy journey filled with intensity and cathartic atmosphere. Island likes to go from rattling blast beats to the depths of churning rumble, and then throw in a track of lovely, somber acoustic guitar layers.

A reprieve from the ominous massiveness comes in occasional, undistorted melodic release... but even then, it’s heavy. Even though the songs aren’t especially long (at most, eight minutes), Orakel feels like an epic journey.

Orakel’s is presented in an organic, honest way. It sounds like what you’re hearing is the result of an actual band being recorded, which is a very refreshing change to the norms that death metal unfortunately holds itself to more and more. Sure, Orakel’s result isn’t the most inhumanly tight album, but it is humanly tight, and the music breathes and lives. Any individual element of Orakel isn’t stupendous, but as a whole, this is an outstanding album. Pick it up. (8.5/10)

It turns out the band Holy Moses has been around longer than electric guitar distortion. What’s about as remarkable as that is they still make superb thrash albums, if their latest, Agony of Death, is reflective of their entire discography.

Agony of Death succeeds in sounding like a modern thrash album while still carrying with it the crucial vibe that made the genre so popular in its heyday. More specifically, Holy Moses, on this album, recalls the great Destruction albums from the mid- to late-‘80s, while also channeling the same power modern Destruction records wield, yet Holy Moses outdoes their more famous countrymen in every aspect.

Vocalist Sabina Classen has oft been compared to Angela Gossow of Arch Enemy. When it’s a small pool of metal babes that do brutal, guttural vocals, it’s no wonder. However, Classen outdoes the more famous vocalist. Classen’s vocals sound more organic and authentic. There seems to be a general trend of the underdog making good with this band...

New to the band is drummer Atomic Steif (here "Steiff") whose brief stint with thrash gods Sodom in the mid ‘90s yielded some of that band’s most ferocious output. Steiff makes this record as much as any other element.

Most interestingly, an element that really holds the album together and keeps its pace fresh is the inclusion of tranquil, ambient sections between each song. This practice is largely reflective of Agony of Death’s concept album element. Practically, these sections help to break up what would be a much more monotonous, thrashing experience, and helps to give each track number more of a personality.

Agony of Death is a refreshing, energetic thrash album. The vocal phrasings, from the main vocals to the use of backup shouts on the choruses, can become a little formulaic and generic, but this is highly accomplished work. (8/10)

Vader loves its fans. One of the many things that are good about being a Vader enthusiast is that one doesn’t have to stress out emotionally or financially to procure all those pesky Japan-only releases with the obnoxious bonus tracks that we Westerners are likely never to hear. Ok, one of the worst examples of this of any band is the Vader live CD Live in Japan, whose non-Japan version has two flawless songs cut out from the live show, making the Western version fade out and in, whereas the Japanese version is uninterrupted from beginning to end. Really, really pathetic.

But anyway, aside from that, being a Vader fan rules, because all you need to do is wait for any Japan-only bonus tracks from a studio album to show up on an in-between album EP like Lead Us!, a four-song EP that features two tracks from other albums, the bonus track from the Japanese version of The Art o