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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(er) reviews at a greater frequency, thereby shining our very small spotlight on more cool music. Without further ado, here's a new track with some thick riffage.
Written by: The Administrator
Based solely on their moniker, what genre would you ascribe to Austria's own TarLung? Let me give you three guesses. No, wait--that's far too generous. One guess is almost certainly enough. This is very clearly a band that revels in the simple pleasures: massive doom riffs, beast-like sludge roars, and the crushing embrace of fuzz. TarLung recently signed to the venerable Argonauta Records, and to A. celebrate said signing, and B. incite a little excitement for the forthcoming Axis Mundi, they've dropped a stellar single. "Static Noise" leans heavily into heft, with an emphasis on engaging riffage and a generally oppressive presence. The track bursts out of the gate with a rousing start-stop riff that establishes itself firmly and remains an anchor throughout the track's runtime. Philipp Seiler's vocals, when they eventually kick in, are as sludgy and swampy as you might imagine--he sounds like a amphibious beast recently risen from the mire, coated in algae and hacking mud from his gills. I'm a sucker for this kind of delivery: nasty and utterly Brobdingnagian. If you are familiar with TarLung's work on 2021's excellent "Architect," I'm pleased to report that they have upped the ante in terms of intensity. And while many a promo promises that an album is the band's "heaviest to date," I'm pretty sure that's a truthful assessment in this particular case. "Static Noise" is verifiably heavy as hell. It feels massive and looming and borderline gargantuan, and that's all I've got to say about that. "Static Noise" serves as a harbinger of TarLung's Axis Mundi, which sees release via Argonauta Records on Jan. 30th, 2026. Give heed, etc. etc.
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Written by: The Administrator
Promo material for Someone in the House, the debut album from Denver's Old Deer, describes its genre affiliations thusly: "notes of sludge, doom, and post-metal, woven into foundations of blistering mathcore, noise rock, and post-hardcore." A wide array of descriptors are then employed, seemingly hitting all the bases when it comes to heavy music. Someone in the House is dizzying, harrowing, visceral, brutal, and spidery. It is ear-shredding, shape-shifting, and pit-inducing. Unpredictable and extreme. Needless to say, before hitting play, I was unsure what exactly to expect lurking within. I was also very excited, because all of the words above indicate that Old Deer have concocted an optimal recipe for cacophony. I mean this both in a predictive sense (I'm willing to bet this album is cacophonous!) and a descriptive one (I listened to this album and it is indeed cacophonous!) Truth be told, I love a well-executed cacophony, and I love what Old Deer have done with this album. But! Before I scare you away with ceaseless blathering: Someone in the House is available today, Nov. 7th. We're pleased and honored to offer a full album stream. Give it a listen below, and, as always, we'll meet you on the other side!
Welcome to another edition of DEMO(LITION) DERBY, a regrettably infrequent column dedicated solely to demos. Existing for the sole purpose of bolstering our underground cred since uhhh 2024! If you like reading about demos, check out a previous review here.
Written by: The Administrator
It's been a long while since we've hosted a good ol' demo(lition) derby 'round these parts, and not for lack of material. However, rather than covering any of the delectable morsels currently circling the scummy surface of the promo pit, I felt moved to revisit something sludgy from the primordial days. Back in 2018, when ye olde Sleeping Village existed as a mere Instagram page, I briefly reviewed Slother's first and only project to date. Originally entitled Demo 2018, this 19-minute 4-track release was renamed to MMXVIII a few months later when From The Urn picked it up for a cassette release. The album cover aesthetic is a pretty serviceable hook, but should you require a succinctly accurate descriptor in written form, Quebec City's Slother delineates their sound thusly: “damp riffs.” For a batch of songs evidently discovered in the depths of the St. Lawrence and thrust into mildew’d service, this seems pretty damn accurate. Sopping aesthetic notwithstanding, Slother deals in an obtusely visceral blend of slasher sludge and hefty doom. The riffs are colossal and plodding and violent, often serving as an impenetrable sonic shroud. In terms of tone, the project is defined by an excess of thick fuzz, but while some bands utilize fuzz to create a warm and enveloping environment, Slother revels in grimy suffocation. An occasional lead worms its way through the fray, but the heft of the rhythm is the primary draw here. And, if all this ain’t enough to wet your whistle, the leisurely harsh vocals should seal the deal. These roars and bellows on display, courtesy of one "Pick," are languorously massive. I'm also a fan of the rare inclusion of a vocal sample--"Skrimshaw," for example, fires off with Bush's confident assertion that "the human being and fish can coexist peacefully." While they do appear to be active, judging from some minor activity on social media, I'm sad that Slother haven't released anything since this very promising demo. Or perhaps they are merely taking their sweet time? A slothful approach to songcraft feels apropos, but in the meantime, I yearn for more. Slother - Demo 2018/MMXVIII was self-released May 17th, 2025, and Sept. 2nd, 2018 on CS via From the Urn. Find it here 
Written by: Brooklyn Artemis
British summertime is the perfect time for sludge metal. The air is breezeless and humid, pressing downwards, cooking us in our homes and office cubicles. Flying ants mass at our windows, horde-like, a many-legged Great Heathen Army swarming over dying grass and melting bitumen. Government officials at every level are acting like proper bastards, though this is a less seasonal thing than one would hope for. It is in these oppressive climes that I revisited a growing back catalogue of modern UK sludge. The likes of Mastiff (a contributor to the Cyberpunk OST) and Swamp Coffin, both with excellent full length releases last year, have been fixtures of my listening recently. But another band I saw live a few years ago above a record shop in Sheffield also caught my attention during my heat-addled odyssey--Stockport’s Under. Appropriately for a band whose own Instagram describes them as a ‘tentacle K-hole nightmare’, there’s some interesting stuff going on in Under’s discography. The trio, formed in 2015, have released a series of EPs, splits, and full lengths that have honed a unique brand of progressive and at times psychedelic sludge. Musically, Under often swing between extremes, switching from slower and heavier riffs to quicker sections that display sludge’s hardcore influence, while incorporating a mix of almost soft cleans, high screams, and shouted vocals. Training Resource #5 (the band’s fifth release) was released in November 2020, just before the beginning of the second COVID lockdown in the UK, and I can remember that you could almost taste the resignation to what was to come on the air. The art of the EP, which is up there with the most unique metal album covers around, actually reminds me of that time, of that bizarre online academic and corporate culture that emerged during the pandemic, and never really went away.
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! Written by: The Administrator  A music video premiere is a fairly infrequent affair at ye olde Sleeping Village, but not quite infrequent enough to consider "rare." Perhaps "uncommon" would be a better measure. In any case, it's been a while since we ran one of these, and the theater required significant sprucing up before we felt comfortable allowing you fine folks inside. With the cobwebs and dust bunnies banished, then, the show is ready to begin. We'll dim the lights. Make yourself comfortable.
Today's feature presentation comes to us from Dublin, Ireland's Fós. The forthcoming Níl mo chroí in aon rud, out Jan. 27th, demonstrates a haunting blend of traditional Irish folk singing with the sheer droning heft of doom and sludge. It's a fusion that feels as natural as it is engaging, and "Bádaí na Scadán" serves as a perfect showcase of Fós's uniquely eerie and captivating aesthetic. Give "Bádaí na Scadán" a listen (and a watch!) below, and we'll meet you on the other side. 
Written by: The Administrator
I'm no expert, but I'm fairly certain it is impossible to look at this album cover and imagine it attached to anything other than some comically distorted and trippy psychedelia. Y'know, the good stuff. Terra is the debut album from Acid Arno, a self-described "loud trio" out of Berlin, and the three track contained within do not disappoint when it comes to rich fuzz and expansive acidic leads. I'm in love with this poetic and extremely apt description lifted from their promo material: Terra combines "layers of bowing deep fuzzes, lysergic delays supported by stone primal percussiveness set down in a dilated dark-trip composition." If that isn't enough, their bandcamp description states that they are "grounded to space." And yeah. I couldn't agree more. All of this is exceedingly accurate. Well said. 
Written by: The Administrator
At this stage in the game, a new Through Mists album spawning forth every few months feels like one of life's true constants. Moreover, there's a certain joy I derive from observing a fresh batch of Through Mists tracks careen into the promo pit, and the fact that it happens three to four times a year is truly a gift. If the band name sounds familiar, there's a good chance you saw something here. This will be a record-breaking fifth premiere that we slumbering scribes have written for this prolific one-man proggy death/black/sludge juggernaut over the past few years. If nothing else, I hope that our own extensive Through Mists catalog serves as an indication that I'm personally a big fan of what he does. Anyways! Let's cut to the chase and head hellward, shall we? This latest forthcoming album, appropriately entitled Hellscape, will be released on Dec. 6th. It may very well be the most abrasive entry in the Through Mists discography to date, and we are honored to premiere here the title track. Give it a listen below! As always, we'll catch you on the other side. 
Written by: The Administrator
Here at ye olde Sleeping Village, we like to talk about Negative Bliss. Of the four tracks contained within the cathartic confines of their forthcoming debut EP, I've publicly discussed three: "The Good Life" was premiered, "Sun Stain"reviewed, and "The Lighthouse" got a little micro-review over on Twitter. If it's not apparent that I thoroughly enjoy what these genre-blending dads are doing, hopefully this writeup serve as yet another nail in the coffin that represents my desire to have Negative Bliss heard by as many people as possible. For the unfamiliar, Negative Bliss sit somewhere at the moody dynamic intersection of post-metal, hardcore, doom, and sludge. The sonic spectrum is quite expansive, and thus it is almost more useful to talk about the band in terms of their sheer emotional weight. This is profoundly emotive stuff, basking in gloomy somber grief, hazy melancholy, coiled frustration, and the eventual calm that dwells at the heart of acceptance. Everything Hurts and I'm Dying is thematically centered around the assorted coping mechanisms one develops to deal with life's inevitable traumas, be it grief, loss, entropy, or disillusionment. Hell, the title alone should serve as clear indication that we're openly dealing with some real-life shit here. Negative Bliss have carved themselves a corner that feels profoundly relatable. There's a certain comfort that comes from witnessing others dealing with the same old bullshit. Hearing these guys find a creative outlet through which to process trauma provides me with a vicarious sense of fulfillment. We slumbering scribes are honored to premiere Everything Hurts and I'm Dying here today, a couple of days prior to the Nov. 1st release date! But before I scare you away with ceaseless blathering, please check out the Ampwall embed below. We'll meet you on the other side! 
Written by: The Administrator
When I crave some fuzzy riffage that embodies the laborious act of clambering through a swamp in pea-soup fog, I turn to Green Hog Band. These fellas have been putting in the work for a few years now, routinely dropping fresh batches of fuzzy 'n' scuzzy motorcycle-revving stoner doom. This latest, Fuzz Realm, was released back in June of this year and subsequently sat in the ol' promo pile for far too long. But better late than never, says I. Let's dive straight into this tarpit. Even before hitting play, I already felt exceptionally familiar with the contents of Fuzz Realm. That's a strong indication that Green Hog Band have built themselves a cohesive identity. This is dirty stuff. Every thick riff is coated in a greasy patina of motor oil and cigar ash. Meanwhile, the clean-yet-demonic vocals--delivered in both Russian and English--have been chained to a Harley and dragged across gravel for, I dunno, a lifetime and a half? In terms of elements that feel a little fresh in the Green Hog Band playbook, a distinct occult influence peers through the cracks in terms of samples and general spooky ambience. Put it all together, and the formula speaks for itself. The Fuzz Realm aesthetic is dark, menacing, and, in case I have not been clear, heavy as ever-living hell. While everything here feels like it would fit comfortably on any stoner metal playlist of your choosing, closer "Phantom" is perhaps my favorite track, as it balances softer passages with throat-crushing guitar dropping in to remind the audience who is boss. I also love "Nightmare Creatures" for that simple and endlessly earwormy riff. The aforementioned vocals add a little unique flair and flavor, but at the end of the day, these eight tracks--along with the Green Hog Band catalog in general--are built upon and sustained by that sweet, sweet heft and fuzz. The riffs and songs don't necessarily stick in my head after the album is done, but they really don't need to. They make their impact in the moment, and that, I would argue, is significantly more important. Green Hog Band - Fuzz Realm was released June 20th, 2024 via The Swamp Records. Find it here! |
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