Written by: Blackie Skulless
Oh man! Talk about a record that catches your attention from the logo alone, if not the album artwork as a whole. Considering that it’s the side-project of the ax-master in Worm, and that it claims influences ranging from Greek black metal to traditional heavy metal, it could have been anybody’s guess as to how this is going to sound. Zeicrydeus is a Canadian project that only has one full-length record with no demo history, just dropping last month. Titled La Grande Heresie, it somehow manages to literally sound like all of those things at the same time. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that Zeicrydeus utilizes the tactic of running with many moving parts in motion at once. If you peel back all of the layers, you find that the gist is a foundation of dirty but ultimately very melodic traditional metal riffing that mixes in blackened ingredients, namely blast beats and the occasional tremolo, topped with harsh black/death growls that also somehow swing the tiniest dash of melody. If that’s not enough, all of the instruments seem to take turns in the forefront, with bass solos being a regular occurrence, and explosive drum-fills engulf the entire gradient from time to time. Occasionally, synths might combine with one thing or the other to emphasize the atmospheric element, complete with dramatic shifts in tone under longer song runtimes.
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Written by: Blackie Skulless
Two years ago, Sweden’s Century somewhat blew me away as they managed to craft a brand of traditional metal revival that felt like it had energy unlike any other. This year, they’ve gone and followed that up with a sophomore release. Titled Sign Of The Storm, it first comes off as another serving of more of the same, using the old trick of not needing to fix what’s broken. Sometimes this works, sometimes it shows signs of expiration sooner rather than later. Under closer examination, it would seem that the second album actually avoids this anyway (I blame myself for not paying enough attention on first listen). The debut held its ground in not needing to boast speed metal chops, grit, or heavy intensity to sell itself, whereas I think it’s rather evident that the ante is upped in that regard now. Vocally, it feels like the stage is shared more with the lead guitars, however that isn’t a flaw, and the frontman still flexes some incredible range. To add to this, there’s an obvious nod to darker subject matter in a lot of the lyrics, cementing Century’s ever-so-slight step towards something a little meaner. 
Written by: The Administrator
Here's an established fact: I like WARPSTORMER. Back in 2022, their debut EP Here Comes Hell made quite a mark--as I said back then, said EP "unleashes riffs with the confidence of a seasoned act and the haste of a band excited to parade their entire arsenal in a single 20 minutes span." Needless to say, the promise of a full length was exciting. Their self-titled debut LP came out last November, and, in classic fashion, it's taken me a very long time to actually write about it. Apologies for tardiness, etc. etc. WARPSTORMER plays a potent blend of stoner doom and thrash, a combination that feels simultaneously vigorous and sludgy. While the doomier stoner elements do frequently take center stage--the thrash is often more apparent in the roaring bombast than shredding speed per se--this album is notably forceful. WARPSTORMER feel like the bastard lovechild of High on Fire, The Sword, five gallons of diesel, and some high-octane guzzoline. And, while big punishing riffs often lead the charge, there are enough progressive and (dare I say?) cosmically inclined psych moments to lend the songwriting an expansive quality. With the exception of some very nice cleans that shine in the back half, the vocal delivery, which is raspy and striking in equal measure, fondly reminds me of the punchiness of Black Royal. While never unhinged, very little here feels overly restrained. WARPSTORMER is a powerful band, and isn't afraid to show it. 
Written by: The Administrator
When we slumbering scribes dip our hands cautiously into the churning murk of the promo pit, the chances of encountering something completely new (or even marginally inventive) are quite slim. Indeed, the vast majority of what we listen to represents a certain well-founded adherence to convention. That's not a bad thing--there's a reason OSDM revivalism has enjoyed a series of banner years. And besides, there's an obvious limit to the number of viable combinations of sounds and aesthetics. Genre stew can get a tad unlistenable without a healthy dose of intention and some impeccable execution. Anyways. Encountering a specimen lurking in the promo pit that can be qualified as "wholly unique" is exciting, to say the least. It was fresh on the ears. And this is why Buzzard's debut album Doom Folk was such a welcome presence in my listening rotation. Doom Folk was--and still is--truly a gem. Representing a rough 'n' raw amalgamation of Americana, folk, and doom, the component parts were familiar, but the end result felt gloriously innovative. While clearly informed by a variety of influences, Buzzard gave voice to the dour common ground lurking between the social commentary and narrative acumen of Bob Dylan, the powerful heft of Sabbath, the weirdness of Lovecraft, and the homey eeriness of a small-town ghost story. Doom Folk felt like the grizzled men who played swampy folk at the campfire after the barn dances of my youth had found inspiration in the gloomy gravitas of the pioneers of metal. And beyond mere originality, Buzzard was riddled with the kind of clarity of songcraft that repeatedly raised the question: how in the absolute fuck had these songs not already been written? 
Written by: Blackie Skulless
Please excuse this long, rambling intro, as we’re working in territory that I’ve been an expert in for a while, and witnessed all of its nuances in real time. Swedish masterminds Ghost have evolved from a freezing but straightforward brand of traditional metallers into pop-rock icons, especially with 2022’s Impera bringing them more commercial breakthroughs than ever before. Sticking to the theme of dropping a full-length roughly every three years, they’ve come back and done what feels like a part-two for the first time ever. The first four records had their own identities subtracted from the style choice, strictly based on vibes. Opus Eponymous was a tried and true depiction of Satan taking over the world, while Infestissumam was our campy classic horror flick. Meliora brought forth an absence of light and hope, where Prequelle was a glamorous dark-romance around the end of humanity. After this, Tobias and Co. would craft an album chock-full of dissimilar, albeit enjoyable tunes in Impera; 2025’s Skeletá does exactly the same thing.
In a continuing attempt to cover more music that would all-too-oft slip through the very large cracks, we slumbering scribes are making an effort to publish short reviews at a greater frequency, thereby shining our very small spotlight on more cool shit. Without further ado, here's the latest from the prolific Ourobonic Plague.
Written by: The Administrator
The oeuvre of Ourobonic Plague is extensive and intimidating. While I have casually listened to (and enjoyed!) the project's two EPs released thusfar this year, I feel like I've only scratched the surface of the bandcamp back catalog, let alone the assorted supporting written documentation, videos and visuals, and so on. There is undeniably a lot going on, and we haven't yet even touched on the quality of the music itself. Needless to say, the Ourobonic Plague rabbit hole lurks enticingly. As someone who enjoys a deep dive, I find a certain excitement in that notion. In any case, today's track in question, "Blunderbuss," serves as the first single from the third EP in Ourobonic Plague's continuing G.A. series, which I believe will be released May 30th. "Blunderbuss" is described as a "a frantic scattershot hyper-garage meltdown," and is mesmerizing and jarring in equal measure. Long-form drone elements are absent--this is much more immediate. The track perpetually emphasizes its presence rather than fading into the background. While the stuttering and lurching percussion is forward, the focus soon shifts to a muffled klaxon that fondly reminds me of the echoing alarms in Half-Life 2--which, to be fair, many things fondly remind me of Half-Life 2. In any case, said klaxon evokes a sense of distant albeit omnipresent danger, surveillance, anxiety. Once all the elements are in play, it is quite immersive. On the surface, "Blunderbuss" feels like it should be danceable, but the restless lurching momentum is a bit of a tease. The track is watery yet skittery, and seems deliberately designed to keep the listener on edge. It doesn't feel entirely truthful to say that I enjoy the anxiety per se, but I do really like this track. Give "Blunderbuss" a listen via the Ampwall embed below! After you're done with that, I wholeheartedly recommend working your way backward through the Ourobonic Plague discography at large. I'll be doing that myself in short order.
Ourobonic Plague's assorted links can be found here.
Written by: Blackie Skulless
The French black/thrashers Hexecutor have been around for a little while now, with over a decade of experience and several releases that include three full-lengths roughly every five years. It would take the third album hitting early this year before they’d catch my attention from the logo alone (a fitting one for a French outfit). Titled …Where Spirit Withers In Its Flesh Constraint, we’re treated to a somewhat jagged brand of the genre, dealing heavily in longer tracks. With an album title like that, I guess I could have anticipated this. So it should be no surprise that embellishment of a more chaotic approach is the name of the game. Strangely, the guitars tend to take a backseat to a unique and sporadic shrieking vocal style, equally overshadowed by loud and explosive drums, with the exception of when there’s a solo. Much of the rhythm sections are absolutely drowned in tremolo picking, all tied together with constant shifts in tone and tempo, ultimately trying to toe the progressive line. I wouldn’t say it really fits in that camp per se, however an obvious attempt at breaking some of the rules is present. At minimum, the dramatic shifts in what pops out the most gives the record some character. 
Written by: Blackie Skulless
It’s always a good time finding older extreme metal bands that were ahead of their time. In the era between the thrash revival bands and the prime-time of the genre’s popularity existed acts that bridge that gap, for better or for worse. Sweden’s Bewitched arose at an unfortunate time for their style, cranking out longer records during the boom of the CD with a decent following but overall flying under the radar. However, if there’s one of their records that really does it for me, it’s record number four, 2002’s Rise of the Antichrist. The early 2000s would lay the groundwork for thrash revival to take the world by storm, with the Toxic Holocaust and Municipal Waste types being pivotal in their respective styles. However, I’m of the firm belief that Bewitched added the slightest blackened tint onto an otherwise hardcore-flavored thrash burner over a decade before Power Trip would even break real ground. Much of this record sports minimal in regards to blast-beats, tremolos, or degraded production, yet their evil themes and crushing attitude makes it fit nicely right beside the likes of Bastardizer or Diabolic Night. Thus, it acts like a melting pot of styles that could have given way to all sorts of bands long before their time, but probably didn’t. 
Written by: The Administrator
When presented with a new release from British Columbia's MEGAFAUNA, there are few guarantees. Sonically, thematically, emotionally, a whole lot is variable by design. A true sense of experimentation permeates the project, and beyond aesthetic clues surrounding the visuals, you're never entirely sure what you're going to get. However! If there is one unifying factor of every MEGAFAUNA release, it is the immutable and established fact that I love them all very much. There's a standard of high quality maintained across the discography, whether it lurks within the dread and anxiety of Venator, or the layered and dynamic I Owe This Land a Body, or the haunted funhouse dance party vibe of the "Ghoulish Haunt" single, or the slowburningly ominous Nosferatu soundtrack. I could go on. In any case, I walk away from a listening session feeling like the music has made made a genuine impact on an emotional level. In short, MEGAFAUNA has been doing intriguing things since inception, and I have very much enjoyed the project's eclectic output. And, needless to say, I'm always ready and excited to check out new stuff from the MEGAFAUNA camp when the opportunity arises. This heavily redacted latest EP, the four track cnʁʁԍuϝ λԍɑʁ ɑʁმnwԍuϝ, will be officially released tomorrow, April 20th. We're pleased to premiere it here a day early for your listening pleasure and/or discomfort. Give it a listen below, and, as always, we'll meet you on the other side!
In a continuing attempt to cover more music that would all-too-oft slip through the very large cracks, we slumbering scribes are making an effort to publish short reviews at a greater frequency, thereby shining our very small spotlight on more cool shit. Without further ado, here's a cool post-sludge/doom single.
Written by: The Administrator
Sometimes, dear readers, the promo pit delivers. Whilst searching to satiate a craving for darkly menacing music, I randomly listened to this new single from Poland's Optical Sun...and loved it so much I immediately took their debut album for a few spins. Optical Sun play a murky brand of post-sludge interspersed with notably intense vocals and the liberal application of samples from old Polish movies. In service of oppressive doom and gloom, they also utilize a double-bass technique. As such, "Mój Bóg nie Umarł" is ominous and delightfully hefty, a clear result of that extra emphasis in the bass department. The film samples, for which I admittedly lack any frame of reference, sound very well incorporated, and overall add another layer of intensity. Promo indicates that the band borrows excerpts from the film Diabeł directed by Andrzej Zulawski, from the TV series Przyłbice i Kaptury, directed by Marek Piestrak, and Zbigniew Jerzyna's radio drama Gasnące kolory. There's one part where the speaker sounds on verge of hyperventilation--no clue what they are saying, but it sounds like a less-than-comfortable situation, to be sure. The lurching laughter is creepy too. Samples aside, the vocals are sludgy and throaty and raw in a way that really tickles my fancy--the chanting on the back end, for example, is super forceful and cuts through the instrumentation with an eerie edge. "Mój Bóg nie Umarł" serves as the first single from Optical Sun's forthcoming sophomore album. The track does end very abruptly, which makes me wonder if the album flows from track to track in a seamless fashion. Time will tell! As far as typical rollouts go, it's pretty damn early--Diabeł is scheduled for release on Sept. 11th, so can only assume we'll see more singles drop between now and then. I'll be keeping an eye/ear out. Listen to "Mój Bóg nie Umarł" below and find it on Bandcamp here! |
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