In Metal, it is rare to see a recording that was done for charity. This EP is to raise funds for the Romanian association for the blind and sight-impaired. Depending on where you get this EP, it will have either two or three tracks. The three-track version comes directly from Kaotoxin, which is the one I recommend getting. Everyone else has the two-track version. The “bonus track” is a cover of “Night’s Dew” by Shape of Despair and it’s really well done. The two that are Eye of Solitude songs are “The Deceit,” which is new, and “Painstained,” which is a remastered track from their out-of-print debut album, The Ghost. Of the two Eye of Solitude tracks, “The Deceit” is definitely better. If you liked Sui Caedere or Awoken by Crows, you will enjoy listening to “The Deceit.” It is very much in the vein of what they were doing on Sui Caedere. I liked that they added different vocals in with Daniel Neagoe’s guttural Incantation-esque growling. It added an additional layer to their already punishing and atmospheric sound. “Painstained” is a good song but something about that track irritated me. It might have been the guitar sound or the combination of that and another sound (possibly the keyboards?), but I found it unsettling. Something about the tone set me on edge and I don’t know if that was intentional or not. It wasn’t prominent except near the beginning and briefly in the middle. The bulk of the song was dark and atmospheric in the same way that “The Deceit” was. Outside of that one bit, I thought that The Deceit was a very solid and well-rounded EP. I didn’t even think that the unsettling bit was a serious detraction. If you like atmospheric Doom/Death Metal in the vein of old My Dying Bride, Avernus or Chorus of Ruin, you will definitely enjoy this release by Eye of Solitude.

I’m not usually a Prog person, but as they say… every Prog has its day. I hope I don’t get put in the Prog house for this one, but I love Intronaut. I’ve loved Intronaut ever since 2008’s breakthrough Prehistoricisms. Who doesn’t like to do it Proggy style every now and then? Where my Progs at? It’s a Prog eat Prog world out there, but this So-Cal quartet stand out from the pack. They’re one of those rare outfits who can wander off into outer space without leaving the listener behind. Even when their sprawling compositions resemble impromptu jam sessions, they still feel like songs. I guess you can teach an old Prog new tricks. It helps that we’re dealing with an all-star lineup here. Danny Walker (Murder Construct, ex-Uphill Battle, ex-Exhumed, ex-Phobia, and former live drummer for Jesu) always lays the perfect foundation with a staggering display of virtuoso timekeeping in league with that other good drummer named Danny who also knows a thing or two about walking the Prog. His playing is expansive yet focused, aggressive yet mellow, a guide Prog for the endless array of equally adventurous riff soup. Sacha Dunable (Bereft, ex-Anubis Rising) also plays a huge part in keeping the proceedings cohesive and all-encompassing with his ghostly croon. It’s no coincidence that as his clean singing continually improves, the band “levitates” further away from their early Sludgecore leanings toward more palatable Post-Rock territory. On Habitual Levitations, his gruff bark (sorry) is barely employed compared to past efforts. Luckily the roaring distortion, gale-force riffs, and occasional high-energy chug-along ensure that not all of the heaviness is sacrificed at the behest of experimentation and interstellar musicianship. And on that note, we come to the brightest jewel in the Intronaut crown: bass god Joe Lester (ex-Mouth of the Architect). All I can say is beware of Prog. This dude’s playing is on an otherworldly level. He’s spinning cosmic spiderwebs on that fretboard, people. His fingers taught Fred Astaire how to dance. It’s like some kind of low-frequency Bob Ross painting. Listening to this guy play is pure therapy. When Joe Lester starts plucking, I’m on vacation. It’s fucking magic. Other than the 2+ minutes of annoying abstract noise that close the record out, this is flawless. Gourmet Prog chow in a sea of kibbles and bits. Give a Prog a bone.

Yeah, yeah, we know. This is Metal Curse and they’re a Punk band, not even an extreme one at that. Well, being in a Punk band for four decades is pretty fucking Metal if you ask me. And not just some shitty Punk band that won’t go away, this is Bad motherfucking Religion. The band that gave us How Could Hell Be Any Worse? and Suffer. The band I cut my Punk teeth on as a teen in the early ’90s. The band that opened up new doors for me back when I thought anything lighter than Eaten Back to Life was some kind of Power-Glam. All that said, their output since 1994’s Stranger Than Fiction has been a mixed bag of hit-and-miss, and album #16 is no exception. With the No Controlesque opening title track, it becomes apparent quickly that True North should and does trump its unremarkable predecessor, 2010’s The Dissent of Man. Then again, what Bad Religion album short of The Gray Race can’t? True North tries to find the balance between the back-to-basics energy of The Empire Strikes Back and the ballad-dominated Process of Belief —two of the band’s more solid efforts in recent years— and for the most part it succeeds, just not quite on a Recipe for Hate level. The hits and filler are pretty much spread evenly, granted Bad Religion filler is considerably more engaging than the phone-in jobs of other Cali greats (yeah, NOFX, that means you, although Self Entitled was a step in the right direction). What never falters are Greg Graffin’s lyrics. Known to cure narcissism, this man’s verses have always been a beacon of light in a world full of idiots, and the current state of the US economy gives the legend no shortage of ammo (see “Robin Hood in Reverse” and “Land of Endless Greed”). Still, not even Graffin can save duds like “Past Is Dead,” “Fuck You,” “Dharma and the Bomb” (worst BR song ever?), “Hello Cruel World” (epic ballad fail), “Popular Consensus,” and “Changing Tide” from being instantly forgettable. Luckily big chorus-driven circle pit starters like “Vanity,” “In Their Hearts Is Right,” “Crisis Time,” “Dept. of False Hope,” “Nothing to Dismay,” and “My Head Is Full of Ghosts” are there to bail them out. Get it? HA! The beloved oozin’ aahs flow while a triple-guitar assault launches exploding solos on the listener like US bombs on a sovereign nation full of brown people, as Brooks Wackerman unleashes the kind of drumbeats that’ll get all those DJs skateboarding again. True North might not always be on par with past classics, but serves as a worthwhile addition to the Bad Religion dynasty.

Nader Sadek is a perplexing entity. A Death Metal supergroup assembled and orchestrated by Mayhem’s fluffer to preach the evils of the petroleum industry. One full-length into their career, and already a live recording of that debut in its entirety. I must admit, I’m not sure if I’m the right man for the task at hand here. I regret to inform you that I’ve yet to hear 2011’s In the Flesh. However, Living Flesh has been reported to be an even more potent listening experience, the live environment capturing the band’s feverish ferocity in a far less confining manner than the studio walls. Well, if that truly is the case, I’m fortunate I didn’t waste my time, because this is borderline unlistenable. I certainly went in wanting to like it. I like the idea of Steve Tucker (ex-Morbid Angel) on vocals, I like the idea of Novy Nowak (ex-Vader/Behemoth) on bass, and I sure as hell like the idea of Flo Mounier (Cryptopsy) on drums. Yet somehow I don’t like this at all. One definitely can’t blame the sound quality. Captured in late 2011 at a Manhattan venue, Living Flesh has an airtight organic mix as far as live albums go. It’s the material that’s at fault. Brutal enough, and with virtuoso musicianship at every base, but it’s avantgarde to the point of feeling improvised. Of course, this impromptu feel does benefit Mounier at times. His stickmanship and footwork dazzle at any pace, the snare drum in particularly ear-popping form that evening. But aside from his jaw-dropping drum solo (“Rusted Skin”), the haunting soprano of Ava Inferi’s Carmen Simoes on intro “Re:awakening,” and the bleak melodic chill of instrumental/second intro “Nigredo in Necromance,” this is quite a chore to sit through. It would seem Steve Tucker had an off night. I only say that because I witnessed him 100%-on-top-of-his-game firsthand fronting Morbid Angel around the turn of the millennium. He sounds far less barbaric here, and it only gets shakier as the night progresses. Perhaps guitarist Rune Eriksen deserves some of the blame as well. Aura Noir have yet to come up with a riff that isn’t instantly forgettable, so why would his side gig be any different? Then again, doesn’t Sadek write all the music? Or does he just handle environmental lyric duties? More power to him, but ironically I’d have to be huffing gas to enjoy wall-of-unmemorable-noise racket like “Sulffer,” “Mechanic Idolatry,” and the aptly-titled “Soulless.”

Like it or not, Terror must be acknowledged as the new kings of Hardcore. The crown handed down from Agnostic Front to Hatebreed is now in their sole possession. Its been a decade now, and nothing has had the ability to stop ex-Buried Alive vocalist Scott Vogel and drummer Nick Jett from taking it to the street. Through numerous lineup changes, a revolving door of label representation (Bridge Nine, Trustkill, and Century Media to name a few), an endless cycle of rigorous non-stop touring, and their fair share of haters, Terror sound as charged up and ready to rumble on album #6 as they did ten years ago. Live by the Code is the band’s Victory debut —not to mention a reunion of sorts for Vogel, as the mighty Buried Alive once called the label home— and, given their rich Hardcore history, it seems like the perfect match. Despite Victory’s more recent atypical signings, no band better personifies what that bulldog used to stand for. Who would’ve guessed these Cali bruisers would end up the NYHC masters? As mentioned, these torchbearers haven’t fucked with the formula much at all since 2003’s Lowest of the Low. While the playing and production have been significantly tightened up over the years, the attack remains the same. The Code might contain some of their Thrashiest work to date, with perhaps a stronger emphasis on melody from time to time, but it’s ultimately what all Terror records have been: pit anthem after pit anthem. Vogel’s venomous bark is in fine form as usual. If there’s one knock on the frontman it’s that he’s been doing Hardcore for so long, all he really has left to talk about is… well, Hardcore. But there’s always plenty of ammo for those of us who’ve been backstabbed a time or two. When it comes to such “hard lessons,” there’s no one more vengeful. The only other complaint about this “full-length” is that it isn’t really a full-length. These guys rarely if ever eclipse the half-hour mark on wax, and at 26:45, Code is no exception. But they were cool enough to press this bad boy on cassette, so I’ll let it slide. Truth is, there really isn’t anything to dislike about Terror. These days they are to Hardcore what Rotten Sound is to Grindcore: so far above the rest it’s ridiculous. The diehard remain.

I really gave these Six Feet Under-worshipping Finns a hard time about the lack of catchiness and poor sound quality on last year’s I Chose Death EP, and deservedly so. Fucking up Death Metal this simple is like fucking up a can of SpaghettiOs. But I am still a huge fan of theirs —everything that bears their name circa 2003-2009 is tits— and was truly hoping for Phobia to be a bounceback effort. For the most part, it is. I don’t know about that Stella cunt, but Torture Killer certainly got their groove back. The production is still clown shoes —I actually had to double-check my stereo to make sure the EQ was set properly— but aside from sounding like it was recorded in John Wayne Gacy’s crawlspace, Phobia’s highs significantly outweigh its lows. Go ahead and skip over opener “Devil’s Reject.” It’s essentially a mediocre appetizer for the raw meat main course of the next three songs to follow. The title track and “Await His Third Arrival” are pure Torture Killer. Stomping, headbangable beats, ham-fisted chug, catchy choruses… simple, simple, simple, but it works. While he’s still far from my favorite Torture Killer vocalist, I’m starting to warm up to Pessi Haltsonen’s ultra-basic low growl this second time around. Truth be told, tunes this instantly infectious don’t need much behind the mic to seal the deal. Speaking of infectious tunes and former Torture Killer vocalists, Chris Barnes drops by to lend his guest gargle to Death ‘n’ Roll anthem “Written in Blood.” It seems as though the quintet penned the track with Barnes’ storied appreciation of AC/DC in mind, but again… it works. Elsewhere, “March of Death” features the best Obituary riff we’ve heard in ages, while the tandem of instrumental “Epitaph” and closer “Voices” recall the band’s depressive melody dabbling found on 2009’s Sewers. As alluded to, the record isn’t entirely filler-free —wake me up when “Faces of My Victims” ends, and has anyone seen “The Book of a Dying World“‘s hook?— but overall, you’ll need to ice your neck down after the majority of this monster. It’s good to have Torture Killer kicking ass again. If it’s too simple, you’re too gay.

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with the music of Cathedral. Sure, I love the bleak, warped atmosphere of 1991’s legendary debut Forest of Equilibrium. Who doesn’t? But I hated 1993’s major-label follow-up The Ethereal Mirror at first. I would warm up to the album years later, as my contempt for those slick, cheesy grooves seemed to recede right along with my hairline. 1995’s The Carnival Bizarre was an instantly addictive success. Still to this day, some of Lee Dorrian’s finest storytelling and Gaz Jennings’ best overall riffs. Comparatively speaking, their next two LPs —Supernatural Birth Machine (1996) and Caravan Beyond Redemption (1998)— were garbage. However, 2001’s Endtyme was a total triumph. In my opinion, the darkest and most depressive material of Cathedral’s career. Sadly, they’ve laid three more eggs since then, and now they’re calling it a day. That’s right, The Last Spire will reportedly be the last hoorah for these UK Doom pioneers. How will they go out on their swansong? The love boat? The hate tank? Ironically enough, it’s really a bit of a mixed bag. On the musical side of things, the band sound like they could go another 24 years. Jennings’ playing in particular is truly inspired as he waxes nostalgic on the Forest-like dirges of “Cathedral of the Damned” and “Tower of Silence.” Meanwhile, drummer Brian Dixon seems as though he’s found his rhythm section soulmate in new bassist Scott Carlson (Repulsion, ex-Death). Dorrian’s vocals are another story altogether. On the contrary, he sounds more than ready to throw in the towel. It’s not like the man has ever possessed the most gifted singing voice, but unique and clever go a long way with the right amount of dedication. On The Last Spire, his patterns simply refuse to sink in. Whether trudging lifelessly through the muck on “An Observation” and “This Body, Thy Tomb,” unleashing his inner tone-deaf drunken pirate on “Infestation of Grey Death,” or going batshit wacky all over the place on the career-encapsulating “Pallbearer,” his delivery is consistently hookless, robbing this final chapter of a much-needed anthem. (In other words, I just don’t feel the groove.) I have a ton of respect for the former Napalm Death frontman —not only as a vocalist but as a label head and all-around decent human being— but he definitely didn’t save his best for last. In summary, it’s been a rollercoaster ride for these guys. Looking back at their body of work, the good far outweighs the bad. I won’t recall any of their forgettable slop years from now. I’ll only remember how high the highs were. Unfortunately, The Last Spire isn’t one of them.

2011’s The Godlike Inferno took the Metal world by storm with its dark ‘n’ pretty, acoustic-driven hymns to Lucifer. The list of artists able to make an acoustic guitar sound “heavy” is a short one. However, Ancient Vvisdom won’t have the luxury of surprise with follow-up Deathlike. We, bloodthirsty hounds at their door, know what to expect now, and have been eagerly craving more of it. The safest, smartest choice in this situation is probably to duplicate, and that’s more or less what AVV has done here. It’s really quite unfair to expect re-reinvention of the wheel from a band who’ve already carved themselves a quick niche with their relatively unconventional approach, comparisons to acoustic Alice in Chains EPs aside. When you strip everything down to this level —acoustic guitar, minimal electric guitar, minimal percussion— it’s basically the same terms as Folk/Rock from the ’60s: if you have a good singer, you have a hit. And these guys have one hell of a great singer in Nathan Opposition. I don’t often use the word “dreamy” to describe vocals within the Metal Curse forum, but I’ll be damned if that doesn’t sum it up perfectly. Of course it helps that this eargasm-inducing croon is consistently a vehicle for odes to the Dark Lord and the end of humanity. In all honesty, this man could probably make a decent living off his voice if ever he decided to seek an Alternative route. Satanic Chill Wave, perhaps? Something to think about. Seriously though, I’d prefer he stay put. Other than the album’s off-putting intro-song-intro beginning and the Blues cheese of “The Last Man on Earth,” Deathlike is a smooth, flawless ride. Spine-shivering choruses grace “Let the End Begin,” the title track, and “I Am Rebirth,” while brooding apocalyptic ditties like “Look Alive,” “Never Live Again,” and “Here Is the Grave” bring the darkness. Consider dawn officially cast upon the grave of the angel. Where is that pale bitch now? A little light and shade go a long way on this campfire and brimstone affair. A first-listen record from a first-listen band. Tough to beat instant gratification these days, isn’t it? If given a fair shot, Ancient Vvisdom’s irresistible charm should easily seduce even the most distortion-addicted among us. Tear down the walls of your ego.

This is my first encounter with New York City’s Batillus, and it isn’t at all what I expected. Don’t believe everything you read, children. Unfounded comparisons to bands like Ministry, Pitchshifter, and Godflesh had me anticipating a fistful of Industrial Metal. In truth, this quartet’s sound couldn’t be more organic. To be fair, these guys do go about their business in a cold, unfeeling, mechanical manner, with a thick smear of urban decay that can’t help but recall the grimy feel of early Godflesh, but what I’m hearing is far more Doom-based, with Sludge undertones and occasional Blackened tint. A very natural drum sound and a pure, heavy-as-fuck guitar tone are welcome surprises, indeed. This band’s modus operandi is minimalism on top of minimalism while minimalism watches. They tend to latch onto a simplistic drone and ride it until the wheels fall off. Doing more with less, as Fade Kainer’s tortured snarl swirls around the proceedings like a pack of hungry wolves encircling the wounded. If Concrete Sustain has one flaw, it’s that its soulcrushed, meditative vibe is significantly more memorable than any of its actual songs. A lot like the day after filthy, drunken sex with a random barwhore, you remember it being good but can’t seem to recall specific details. I get the sense on album #2 that this fresh act is still finding its feet. I’d like to hear more of the Deathly, bestial rumble found on “Beset.” I’d like to see them expand on the Helmet influence that permeates “Rust.” I’d like to hear more of the haunting, somber melancholy that graces “Thorns.” I believe they have the ability to craft spells within their ominous, hollow void. I think their best songs may yet be closely ahead of them. Still, few albums will set a better tone for a night of cheap vodka and prescription medication abuse in the dark. A very easy 37 minutes for the heavy-hearted, hopeless and broken to get lost in.