Rain has started to leak into the ducts as Spring gets wetter and wetter. While I’m away, vacationing in a nice, dry, cloudy place, my minions are drenched and miserable. As it should be! But I’m still keeping tabs on their progress. Just because I’m having a great time somewhere else doesn’t mean these louts don’t have a quota to meet!
And meet their quota they shall, if only barely… BEHOLD!
Combining the melodic black metal of Thulcandra and Dissection with the symphonics of Fleshgod Apocalypse and SepticFlesh, Epigram dropped a tasty little morsel with their debut, Obsolescent. The trio from Los Angeles puts on a spirited performance that borders on thrash. Tim Cauley’s display on the kit is a dominant force as he furiously blast beats his way from one song to the next. He turns “Wrath of Betrayed” into a piece of blackened thrash and proves tireless across Obsolescent’s 27-minute runtime. The lively vocal performance of Luis Echevarria adds further to Epigram’s charm. His low growls may seem underpowered, but his delivery is energetic and fun. He’s also the source of the symphonic instrumentation, via synths, though this aspect is secondary. Sure, there’s some choral chants (“Myrmidon,” “The Usurper’s Throne”), strings (“Hour of Gods”), and other vaguely symphonic sounds, but Epigram is most focused on the blackened melodic stuff. Shadi Absi throws together some great riffs, particularly on “Empires,” a work of pure black ‘n roll. The showstopper is “Hour of Gods,” with some sweet riffs and terrific energy. This song alone makes Obsolescent a worthy spin. Rounding out the musicians is Sanjay Kumar (Inferi, Wormhole), who plays solos on “Wrath of Betrayed” and “No Sin.” This is a promising debut for an eager new band.
Sporting the greatest band name of all time, Kal-El have been blasting listeners with stoner doom since 2012. Astral Voyager Vol. 2 is the follow-up to last year’s Vol. 1, and these pyschedelians’s seventh album overall. It’s been seven years since Witches of Mars was unfairly pummeled by a Kryptonian frog, and now I’d like to do the band justice by rescuing them from our filter. On this astral voyage, you get the pleasure of listening to six songs and 42 minutes of laid-back stoner tunes with plenty of fuzzy riffs—perfect for cruising around the cosmos. Their riff-centric approach puts them in the Black Sabbath camp, and the riffs on the likes of “Juno” and “The Prophecy,” which has a “Children of the Grave” vibe, are tons of fun. Further cementing the Sabbath comp is the vocal performance of Ståle Rodvelt, who carries a resemblance to Ozzy in his delivery. Longer cuts take more exploratory routes, akin to Sleep, yet still feature plenty to get your head bobbin’. “Asteroid” opens up with some sweet riffs that sustain its near eight-minute frame, while “The Nine” will still have you singing along in the final of its ten minutes. 1 So if you are in the mood for something chill that won’t put you to sleep, something that has the riffs without the risk of elevating your blood pressure, you should spend some time with Kal-El.
Not having received promo, it was only upon visiting DM’s Bandcamp page while writing up Aversio Humanitatis that I realised Bong-Ra had released another album. Asked whether Esoterik would be leaning more into enigmatic doom or spiky industrial electronica, the shapeshifting Bong-Ra said “yes”. The music is built on layers of dense, gritty atmosphere undulating with bass, breakbeats, and distorted riffs. Vocals are maintained from Black Noise—half-spoken snarls blurred by noise, shifting between blunt tunefulness (“Serpentine Helix”) and gargling venom (“Machine Halo”)—but at least half of the space is devoted to the purely instrumental psychosis. The saxophone is back, adding bizarre elegance and chilling eeriness in equal measure. Sometimes, Esoterik seems to be pitting its sultry and acerbic natures against one another; that chamber jazz side can take one by surprise (“Pleasures of the Flesh,” “Duality of One”), sandwiched as it is between a more punishing industrialism, but Bong-Ra just about gets away with it. This could be down to Esoterik’s efficiency in establishing (new) grooves—rhythmic and stylistic. Opener “Harmony Cloak” dispels misgivings on its skittering electronic oddity with a chorus that strikes a stylish balance between melody and dissonance; “Machine Halo” later follows in its stride. It’s an album that earns its moniker, right down to the particular spelling, and is worth the dark diversion it requires.
A German thrash band named after the legendary fire giant and guardian of Muspelheim? And on their debut LP, they launch an unrelenting, venomous assault filled with sticky riffs and bopping bass grooves in under forty-five minutes? Sign me up! Surturian plays thrash that smacks of early Testament and Metallica fused with the epic melodies of latter-day Kreator—hell, vocalist Tim Krogull reeks of Mille’s rancorous vocals, even though his name hews closer to a Voivodian disposition. In addition to thrash influences, Surturian calls upon Maiden’s signature gallops (“Cimmerians Wrath”) and anthemic melodies (“Night Stalker,” “Do What Thou Wilt”), inculcating a lofty grandeur throughout II – Hessian Spears. Further fanning Surturian’s flames, the outfit navigates a varied landscape that imbues each track with its own character while never straying too far from their core sound. Hard-hitting offensives (“Blood Witchery”), slinky licks (“Night Stalker”), and oddball songwriting (“Beneath a Dying Sky”2) unite into an album I’ve regularly returned to since discovering it. If you’re feeling unSurtain, take it from me—it’s always a good time for some Hessian aggression!
Thanks to a certain dude/guy in the comments section, Crucibles didn’t slip past me undetected. Despite their dubious band name, Barn dropped a humdinger slab of tech death back in March that oozes with references to Unquestionable Presence (Atheist), Focus (Cynic), and, to a lesser extent, Decrepit Birth.3 There are even moments that echo more subdued moments from recent Sallow Moth releases (“The Serpent’s Perpetual Shed”). Staccato bursts of guitar, pinch harmonics, and buttery, fretless bass glissandos epitomize what Barn offers, and they spread it thick and chunky all over Crucibles’ sixty-five-minute runtime. Rustic name notwithstanding, Barn’s latest sounds like a sci-fi adventure, supported by track names like “Black Hole Lens” and “Cymatics.” The fretless bass especially helps with the futuristic aesthetic, frictionlessly gliding through gusts of abrupt, otherworldly guitars that buffet tracks from all angles. Barn rarely offers reprieve during their unconventional onslaught, but tracks like “Forbidden Fruits,” “Cymatics,” and “The Defeater” achieve such heights that I don’t find myself needing one. In short, these Boise boys warp listeners to a different dimension on Crucibles, and though it runs a tad long, I haven’t been deterred yet from lighting up this Barnburner.
Dionysiaque dispenses a bizarre derivative of doom on La Tourbe des Rêves that’s sure to be equal parts captivating and divisive. Reaching into the bag of tricks defined by Cathedral, Black Sabbath, and Candlemass, Dionysiaque’s sophomore album lumbers and chugs with classic rock-inspired leads and firecracker songcraft that I find utterly enthralling. Songs like “Aaron,” “Hate Fruit,” and “The Two Headed Boy” spotlight Dionysiaque’s plaintive guitar wails, contributed by L.B. and Bruno Penserini, along with their savvy balance of somber atmospheres and rousing melodies. Buoying the guitar tandem, bassist Lethal lays down frolicking, fabulous thunder via absorbing countermelodies while drummer T.H. looses potent fills and rolls throughout. Soaring atop the instrumentation are N.C.’s unorthodox vocals, which will almost certainly be the sole determining factor in listeners’ ability to engage with La Tourbe des Rêves. His delivery recalls that of Mayhem’s Attila Csihar at his most operatically deranged, never lacking conviction yet occasionally overpowering and ostentatious. Still, I appreciate and enjoy the commitment to the unhinged performance, and although dialing it back a little would make Dionysiaque’s latest more accessible, I’ve come to love La Tourbe des Rêves without apology. So don’t be afraid to let a little love into your heart—go get debauched with Dionysiaque’s aphrodisiac.
In advising his fellow fallen angels—recently expelled from Heaven—to turn Hell into a competing kingdom, Mammon projects that All Demons will ‘work ease out of pain / Through labor and endurance.’4 Satan doesn’t heed this advice, but the third LP from Mammon’s Throne arguably does. On My Body to the Worms, this Australian five-piece inflicts pleasurable pain upon metaldom via five filthy slabs of sludgy death-doom (plus two instrumental reprieves). Mammon’s Throne conjure Hooded Menace, Temple of Void, and (old) Worm in their proclivity for plodding tempos, swampy riffs, and gravely howls (“Elixir”). The album is also a labor of love for classic (death-) doom à la Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride, mixing gothy croons, ascendant melodicism, and haunting piano into the band’s sinister stew (“Every Day More Sickened,” “At the Threshold of Eternity”). Though the listener does need some endurance, as three of the five non-instrumentals hover in the 8–9 minute range, the record flows fluidly across an easy 42 minutes. If you ever wondered what metal in league with Mammon might sound like, give My Body to the Worms a spin.
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