I’m glad to see that my old friend Brad Buldak, former main-man of Chicago’s legendary Morgue, has at long last returned to the lethal business of creating Death Metal. When Brad handed me this demo CDR at a recent Cianide show, I wanted to listen to it immediately, or at least on the two-and-a-half hour drive home. Seconds into the first track, my initial thought was that I should have waited, attributing this demo’s muddy, muffled recording to temporary hearing loss and sleep deprivation. I hate to have to report that the problem wasn’t my ears. It just sounds… bad. My old Yamaha MT120 4-track cassette recorder can honestly deliver better results than what’s on display here. I don’t know how this demo was recorded (live to jambox?), but sonically it’s a total throwback to the early ’90s, in that it sounds like a copy of a copy of copy of an original Maxell UR 90 master tape. But lack of audio quality can generally be fixed by throwing money at the problem, and the amount of cash necessary becomes less and less as technology improves, so I’m hopeful for next time. The real issue is song quality, and Absconder has no problem making these tracks heavy and intense, occasionally reminding me of Grave, but they don’t really stick with you after the carnage ends. A better recording is essential to allowing the detail and nuance that I’m sure Brad has written into these songs to actually be heard, which would go a long way to making them more memorable.

If 2011 was anything, it was the year that quality underground Black Metal returned to prominence. At least for me personally it was. Namely Black Metal of the Suicidal Depressive variety. While men who have sex with each other will probably always prefer their Deathspell Omegas, Nachmystiums, and Xasthurs, heterosexual people who have had their hearts broken had plenty of Blackened aural misery to drown their sorrow in this year. You can add this second full-length from Spain’s one-man horde to that list as well. The Austere Perpetuity of Nothingness offers up six dark hymns for self mutilation and isolated inebriation at your disposal. Aboriorth takes a very raw and primitive approach to achieving melancholy misanthropy. I’m guessing he is a student of early Burzum, as most outfits of this genre tend to be. No complaints here. I’ll take as much classic Varg worship as you can dish out, as long as its quality, which this most certainly is. Some songs do stand out a bit above others, but the album as a whole is solid. There is a vibe of chaotic intensity ever present that remarkably does nothing to interfere with the album’s primary suicidal goal. Some people take a whole bottle of sleeping pills, I’m guessing Aboriorth would rather light himself on fire. But the end result is still emptiness and desolation. A beautiful void created from sorrow. Speaking of which, you really need to hear this cover of Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt.” I knew the song was special when I first heard it as a fucked up high school kid, but I had no idea it would have the ability to transcend multiple genres nearly two decades later. Obviously it worked well initially as a pseudo-Industrial ballad, then as a Country song when covered by the legendary Johnny Cash (which in all honesty is most likely the version that inspired this particular cover), and now has made its way to Suicidal Black Metal anthem. It definitely steals the show here as the record’s closer. Even with some of the lyrics altered to better suit the behest of our goddess Negativity. Other highlights include: “The Truth Given in Gold Vessels and Beggar Hands” and “The Shortest Doom for the Hanged in a Silk Thread.”

Throwback occultist Rockers The Devil’s Blood have become quite the beloved darlings of the Metal scene and for damn good reason. While they may owe more to AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Heart, and Coven than they do to any Extreme Metal band, that isn’t stopping anyone, including myself, from jumping on the bandwagon. This highly anticipated second full-length LP is already generating Album of 2012 whispers and perfect scores in all the major mags, but is it really all that? Well, let me start out with what’s right about The Thousandfold Epicentre. “Die the Death” is the first great song. Harmonious guitar licks that waste no time putting the Hard back in Hard Rock. This leads to the addictive “Within the Charnel House of Love” with it’s syrupy Blue Oyster Cult-tinged melodic hook. But the best track on the album might be “She.” It has such an authentic late ’60s/’70s vibe (as all their songs do really) with an anthemic chorus that comes radio-ready. In fact, many of this album’s standout cuts would not sound out of place on your shitty town’s Classic Rock radio station, were it not for the Satanic lyrics and imagery. “Fire Burning” is right up that alley also, with its guitar-hero solo and Bluesy grit, as it transitions into the title track which is equally amazing. A bit longer but absolutely spellbinding. Now, as for what’s wrong with the record. Basically if I didn’t just mention it above, it’s total filler. Whether it be the uneventful album-opening duo of “Unending Singularity” and “On the Wings of Gloria,” the endless Journey trot of “Cruel Lover,” or the overwhelming length of certain songs (all in all this beast clocks in at 74 minutes even), a huge chunk of this record leaves a lot to be desired. Come to think of it, 2009’s breakthrough debut LP, The Time of No Time Evermore, was the same story. A whole lotta killer, a whole lotta filler. Oh well, there are much worse fates for bands I guess. It should be noted that Satan’s sultry sex goddess, known only as The Mouth, does her part to make every note sung on the album outstanding and spectacular. With a falsetto that might even make King Diamond a little jealous, the power and range of her voice shine through on even the dull tracks. The truth is you can actually do a lot worse than Devil’s Blood filler, so there should be nothing stopping you from tracking this down.

It kind of worries me that Cronos and his little brother, Antton, apparently can’t coexist in the same band. I’d understand if Antton had wanted to really strike out on his own and do something different, but he joined Mpire of Evil, which is essentially another version of Venom, featuring former bassist/singer Demolition Man, and original guitarist (and Grandmaster of Hades!) Mantas. In any case, Dante, Venom’s new drummer, isn’t bad, but his playing seems somewhat restrained and simplistic at times, with the kick drums often buried. The bass is loud, as expected and appreciated, but a little different mix might have helped considerably. A colleague of mine who suffers (actually, I think that he enjoys it) from multiple personality disorder, so I never know by which of his many names to call him, said that Fallen Angels has Cronos’ DNA all over it, and that is very clearly true. And I don’t mean that he jizzed on the master tapes (or the hard drive containing the Pro Tools files), although he may have. This lucky 13th Venom full-length studio album is essentially a Cronos solo LP, and not just because of the constant lineup changes. To compare Fallen Angels to the band’s most beloved work (up to At War with Satan, let’s say) really isn’t fair, but this is at least in the same league as the most recent two albums, although there is no immediate standout cut, such as Hell’s “USA for Satan,” or the excellent title track from 2006’s Metal Black. Fallen Angels has grown on me, slowly, with each listen, and I’d bet that these songs work better live. Hopefully Cronos can hold a lineup together long enough for me to find out.

When I first found out about Mpire of Evil, at the time still called Prime Evil, I was extremely looking forward to hearing them. It’s no coincidence that the band initially took its name from a Venom album, since all three of these guys used to be in Venom at one time or another (two of them on the album Prime Evil). I hope that I don’t need to introduce the legendary Mantas to anyone, so I’m just not going to. Demolition Man (or, as his friends call him, D-Man) took over for Cronos on bass/vocals for 1989’s highly underrated Prime Evil album, sticking with the group for two follow-ups, Temples of Ice in 1991, and 1992’s The Wastelands. (I wonder if Mpire plays any of those songs live…) Mpire of Evil’s drummer is none other than Cronos’ little brother, Antton, who was with Venom from 2000’s Resurrection through 2008’s Hell. Considering all that, I wonder if there were any discussions with Cronos about taking the Venom name away from his group. Cronos versus D-Man in a steel cage! The winner gets to call his band Venom! $39.99 on PPV! Order now!! But I digress. I had hoped that Creatures of the Black would bring back the sound and style of the aforementioned Prime Evil LP, which is one of my all-time favorites. (I’ve never spoken to a single person who claims to dislike the album who has actually listened to it.) Unfortunately, we really only have two new songs here, and that’s not much to go on, although the title track shows some promise. The sound is somewhat less polished, which could be perceived to mean “heavier,” but I think that it’s more lack of a budget than anything else. The other four songs are all covers, which is disappointing in and of itself, even if the Mpire guys do inject a little Venom into them here and there. Their versions of Judas Priest’s “Exciter,” and Motorhead’s “Motorhead” are passable, but can’t compare to the originals. So why bother? And holy fuck, if I never hear another take on Kiss’s exhausted “God of Thunder,” no matter how well done, it will be infinitely too soon. The less said about this interpretation of AC/DC’s “Hell Ain’t a Bad Place to Be,” the better. Perhaps it’s unfair to judge Mpire of Evil based on only two songs and handful of dust covers, but this is what the band chose to release. The legacy of Venom is a deep shadow to try to get out of, but I’ll give D-Man and company the benefit out of the doubt and cautiously check back in with their debut album whenever that happens.

The Count let the cat out of the bag in an interview where he confirmed his massive financial debt owed to Norwegian authorities. Hence his third release in just under a year. Belus was solid, a damn fine return. Fallen not so much, a little shakier. Perhaps it was a tad rushed? Maybe? Just a smidge? Now we have a re-recorded classics piece focusing on the first two albums, a brand new full-length already in the works, plus we can expect another one of these things with tracks from Hvis Lyset Tar Oss and Filosofem. Man, that’s a whole lotta Burzum in a short amount of time. I’ve said it before, I’m glad to have the man back, and I realize there’s lost time to make up for, but he’s putting out records at a Gucci Mane pace… and that frightens me. That said, it is good to hear these songs again, with highly improved sound and production to boot. Re-recorded oldies have become standard issue for Black Metal’s veteran heavyweights, none more justifiable than this presentation. Obviously the energy and passion of the original records cannot be duplicated, not even by the man himself, but he was wise enough to not change much, if anything. I like knowing nearly two decades later that Varg can still tear through these tunes with the same velocity and fervor, vocally and instrumentally, and that he embraces his past. I despise it when bands shun their beginnings! It’s also nice to finally have songs from Det Som Engang Var on CD, as I own the Necropolis cassette pressing exclusively as only the trve kvlt shall. Unfortunately only “Key to the Gate” and “Turn the Sign of the Microcosm” made it, as the selection of tracks is heavily tilted towards the self-titled debut. If anything you’ll find yourself, as I did, wanting to go back and listen to the original recordings, which is always cause for celebration. I never got to review the first couple records when they came out in the early ’90s. I was busy skipping study hall to go smoke pot and play Marvel Super Heroes at the nearby gas station. Taken for what it is, an autobiographical tribute album, From the Depths of Darkness succeeds on most levels. It’s damn near impossible to find any fault with the actual material itself, proven timeless yet again. I just don’t know how often I’ll reach for it.

This is my first time hearing this diabolic duo (that also make up half of the Father Befouled attack) and, while it’s nothing I haven’t heard before, I am undeniably impressed and slightly in awe at the depth of the sub-atomic heaviness emanating from my tortured speakers. The sound of Encoffination’s slow motion crawl can best be described as being slowly fed to a woodchipper in a dungeon completely filled to the ceiling with raw sewage. Imagine Incantation, Loss, and Disma surgically connected mouth-to-anus a la The Human Centipede. The vocals are inhumanly guttural in the style of the three aforementioned bands. It’s like Craig Pillard, if he were force fed toxic waste and shot up with HGH for 666 days. Every once in a while though, the throat of Ghoat (guitar/bass/vocals) collapses under the strain of this over-the-top, gargling-battery-acid style and he sounds momentarily human. It’s important with such a demonically possessed tone that you never let any light shine through. It goes from demented to silly pretty fast when this occurs, but fortunately it doesn’t happen too often. There isn’t much going on here musically aside from the cryptic drone of barbaric heaviness, but that’s almost all this album needs. My only complaints are few and very minor. There’s a gay laugh on “Rites of Ceremonial Embalm’ment.” Gay laughter in Metal is something I’d like to see done away with once and for all. It especially doesn’t feel right on an album this bleak and sinister. There’s some spoken word on “Ritual Until Blood” I don’t care for, and these guys are also madly in love with sampling the sound of old-vinyl-record hiss. I get it… but I don’t get it. It’s overdone on this album and overdone in general. Besides, the ancient feeling here is alive, well, and plenty authentic enough on its own. So, just some small hindrances that don’t quite belong in their morbid aesthetic, nothing that would impede repeated listening. Best riffs: “Elegant in Their Funebrial Cloaks, Arisen” and “Crypt of His Communal Devourment.”

Four full length albums into a 15-year career and this New Jersey group borne from the ashes of Ripping Corpse still have yet to fully emerge from the bowels of obscurity. The fact is they’ve never really been that good. Talented? Yes, of course. This is after all John Longstreth (Origin, Gorguts, ex-Angelcorpse, ex-Skinless, ex-The Red Chord, etc) on drums. Still, they’ve always had the feel of a band playing music just for the sake of playing music. The Emergence of Reptilian Altars does nothing to distance them from this theory. New frontman Joe Capizzi might be the worst vocalist I’ve ever heard. To even call him a vocalist is being polite. Somebody needs to teach this fucking clown what a vocal pattern is and how to use one. It sounds like he’s just angrily shouting random words with no regard for the music whatsoever. Speaking of the music, it equally blows monkey scrotum. Happy Thrash with a thousand happy guitar solos. Absolutely sickening. Yes, it’s no small feat to successfully mesh groove and technicality, but it’s all for naught when the end result is about as powerful and moving as the heaviest rendition of “Happy Birthday” on record. If you’re into upbeat, lightweight, completely non-threatening Death Metal and you want to have a one-sided, half hour-long conversation with a tone deaf Joe Capizzi, here’s your Album of the Year.

These Norwegian Black Metal mainstays have never really done anything for me. They’ve been at it since 1992 and I couldn’t tell you how a single one of their songs go. It seems their most memorable aspects happen off record. Whether it be band member suicides, legal disputes, lineup turbulence, incarcerations, band member homicides, or dudes fucking dudes, the tabloid headlines seem to outweigh the actual material by far. Now they’ve gone the Dimmu Borgir route and re-recorded one of their old albums. Well, at 26 minutes this is more like an EP, but that’s a whole different argument. What I’m hearing here is nothing like I faintly remember Gorgoroth sounding like back in the day. This is essentially Blackened Thrash with your basic, traditional Black Metal vocals and a super clean production. It isn’t terrible, but I don’t hear any pain whatsoever. The riff with one minute left on “Funeral Procession” is more like it, but not nearly enough. There’s some kind of homosexual Viking thing going on with “Profetens Apenbaring” that the slow, cult arrangement in “Odeleggelse og Undergang” just barely makes up for. Still, when compared to my strict Suicidal Depressive Black Metal diet, this is some fairly happy, lightweight shit. It isn’t until the last song, the galloping blasphemy of “The Devil Is Calling,” that pure aural darkness is finally achieved. I can now officially say I like one Gorgoroth song. Kind of pathetic considering the two decade long career though, wouldn’t you say?