This is the Warfare from Mexico, not to be confused with any of the other ten thousand bands out there with the same name. Um’ Maarak starts off fast and furious and doesn’t slow down at all until the last song is over. The riffing is a bit on the Thrashy side but the speed that they operate at doesn’t allow that to sink in very well. This is one blast beat after another, and structurally could be a single song played over and over again. Every track is an unrelenting assault -the same unrelenting assault- from the start to the finish; a hail of blasting drums, ultra fast riffs and rancid vocals. By now, you should see what the fatal flaw in this band’s album is: it’s too much of the same thing with no variation from their one-trick formula. These guys need to change things up a bit once in a while to throw in some variety. I’m not asking them to turn into Cradle of Filth or Yob for one song, but a little diversity in their sound would do Warfare a world of good.

Reviewing a new album from these guys always feels a little pointless. This is Cannibal Corpse, by far the top-selling Death Metal band of all time. And not just album sales, we’re talking video, t-shirts, lunch boxes with thermoses, the whole nine yards. There’re folks buying Cannibal Corpse records who don’t even like Death Metal. People who couldn’t point out Sweden or Norway on a globe. So a review just seems unnecessary. You know you’re at least going to download Torture, if you haven’t already pre-ordered the super-duper-Metal Blade-collector’s edition-limited-deluxe-Yakuza version which comes with a dub, a hot sandwich, and some pussy. But you’ll be pleased to know you are going to get a quality product. The Corpsegrinder era has produced a hiccup or two (1999’s Bloodthirst and 2002’s Gore Obsessed come to mind), but the overall decomposed body of work has been damn impressive. Torture is essentially Evisceration Plague 2, or perhaps Kill 3 would be more accurate. That is to say it’s a clinic on technical proficiency and all-pro songwriting enveloped in a tsunami of jagged brutality that never lets up for a second. They waste no time here, as opener “Demented Aggression” bludgeons for three minutes with no remorse, like a cadaver in the washing machine. “I don’t think you’ll live” indeed. “Intestinal Crank” has that repeatedly-punched-in-the-face feel that drummer Paul Mazurkiewicz so effortlessly yields before the song dissolves into mid-tempo hookfest. Songs like “Rabid,” “As Deep As the Knife Will Go,” “Torn Through,” and “Followed Home Then Killed” pretty much speak for themselves. This isn’t an album to make love (to a living person) to. “Sarcophagic Frenzy,” “The Strangulation Chair,” and “Caged… Controlled” really mix up the tempo well, controlling a vast array of sinister vibes. But the real treat here is “Scourge of Iron.” Much like Evisceration Plague’s title track, the band slows to a crawl, coasting on headbangability and the power of their sound. The intricacies of their supreme talent shine through on the slower stuff, and I hope it’s something they continue to toy with for another 20 years to cum.

Servants of Chaos isn’t a new LP from Ventura, California’s Cirith Ungol, but rather a two-CD retrospective that covers their various releases, starting with their 1978 demo recordings and going up until their last official album, 1991’s Paradise Lost. This was initially released in 2001, but this reissue also comes with a DVD of one of their live performances from 1984. I guess the best way to describe this band, for those who’ve never heard of them before, would to call them Traditional Heavy Metal or Hard Rock. The music, especially the old stuff, has more in common with 1970s Hard Rock than any of the LA Butt Rock/Heavy Metal that came in the ’80s. Though never a top tier band, Cirith Ungol always seemed to have a cult following amongst fantasy nerds and fans of bands like Hawkwind or Jethro Tull. The coolest thing about the band was their album covers. They usually used artwork that once graced the covers of Michael Moorcock’s Elric series and those were invariably awesome. Their music wasn’t the greatest, though. The singer was too whiney and their music was never as powerful as I would have liked. This band was an anomaly in the Metal scene and to this day I can’t imagine where they would belong in my record collection. This isn’t Rock & Roll enough to qualify as Hard Rock, but not really Metal enough to be Heavy Metal. I can’t comment on the live DVD because the label decided not to include it in the review package, so the rating is for the music only.

This release is something that I’ve really been looking forward to. I first discovered France’s Les Discrets in 2010 through one of those Terrorizer covermount CDs (the only reason anyone still buys that happy faggot publication). It was the song “L’echappee” and it completely floored me. Not long after, I bought the album (Septembre et Ses Dernieres Pensees) and was pleased with it as a whole, although no track was able to top the beautifully mesmerizing “hit.” The mastermind behind this group is Fursy Teyssier, ex-member of Alcest and Amesoeurs. I figured I should point that out first before I mention that Les Discrets really really sound A LOT like Alcest. I’m talking nearly identical here, but feel free to check my Alcest review history and you’ll find I’m certainly not complaining. Neige is the better singer/songwriter, I think most would agree, but Fursy is not far behind. So with much anticipation and high hopes, I’ve been spinning Ariettes… non-stop, and… well… it’s just not that great of an album. I thought perhaps I just needed more time with it to let everything sink in, but a track-by-track analysis reveals that this is no hallucination on my part. They’ve simply phoned most of this one in. It begins with an intro, a very “let’s-get-on-with-it” intro. This leads into “La Traversee,” which is a phenomenal song. By far this album’s “L’echappee.” The band’s soothing-but-saddening Shoegaze melodies, Fursy’s graceful Neige-like vocals, and a masterfully morose rhythm to the chorus that brings to mind the legendary Katatonia, circa Discouraged Ones. But unfortunately that’s it. The next track, “Le Mouvement Perpetuel,” isn’t bad, but has a repetitive, jangly melody that afflicts my imagination with visions of slow motion Country line dancing, therefore making it humorously unbearable. The title track and “Apres l’ Ombre” are acoustic pieces that feel like mere segues. Very pretty, but once again testing my patience. Where’s the beef? “La Nuit Muette” and “Au Creux de l’Hiver” are back-to-back fairly decent songs, but I just don’t hear any pain and the former suffers from a tediously dull ending. All we are left with now is “Les Regrets,” which is… you guessed it, an outro. A very “that-can’t-be-the-whole-album” outro. So there you have it. Only one good song. You might think an 8 is a little high for an album with only one good song, but it speaks to the masterpiece potential I know this trio have within them. Also, it’s not like anything about this album is terrible, just a somewhat uneventful letdown with only one true highlight. At this pace, the Les Discrets Greatest Hits package won’t see the light of day for a few decades. And it may be an EP.

Dawn of Ashes is hard to classify. I guess the tag “Industrial” is wide enough to cover it. This is very mechanical sounding with robotic beats and effects-laden guitars. What makes this release difficult to categorize is that there are only three “new” tracks on here. “Farewell to the Flesh,” “Torture Device Part 2,” and “Blood-Shed with the 3rd Eye” are all new, but the other songs are remixes of “Carnal Consummation in the Empty Space” (three different versions) and “Seething the Flesh in the River ov Phlegethon.” With the remixes placed in the middle of the new tracks, you get music that covers a lot of different areas. Some of the songs are Techno sounding, coming off as a more Industrial version of Suicide Commando or God Module, while others are closer to Atmospheric Black Metal infused material that sounds something like an Industrial version of Dimmu Borgir. It covers a lot of area, but it still falls under the same mechanical/robotic style that classifies this as Industrial. The remix tracks are a bit hit-or-miss, but the new material is better and more consistent. I would have arranged this differently, with the new cuts first and then the remixes at the end as “bonus” tracks. As it is, the track order throws off the consistency, making Farewell to the Flesh sound thrown together where it could have been more cohesive.

Ever since Sabathan left these veteran Belgian Black Metallers in 2006, leaving behind no original members and prompting longtime guitarist Nornagest to switch from backing to lead vocals, things haven’t quite been the same. Obsidium, the group’s ninth overall full-length, and third post-Sabathan offering, is a prime example of that fact. So much so that perhaps a name change should be in order. This just isn’t the same Enthroned. First off, the production is horrible. I know it’s not the first Black Metal album to feature barely audible bass guitar, but this LP has no bottom end at all. The kick drums sound like empty 2-liter bottles. Aren’t you supposed to have the whole production thing somewhat figured out by the second decade of your recording career? Secondly, the playing in parts is messy, noisy, and rambling. Certain songs lack structure and/or vocal patterns. Speaking of the vocals, Nornagest really sucks… bad. He’s got a convulsive, gruff yell that has no place in their aesthetic. Even the songs that do have throwback elements to the old Enthroned ways —the blinding speed of “Nonus Sacramentvm,” the diabolical melodies of “Petraolevm Salvia,” or otherwise high quality Blackened anthems like “Horns Aflame” and “Deathmoor”— are desecrated by the awful vocals. I am reminded of the pure shit that Marduk has become. Not only because both bands now have these cranky-old-man-with-throat-condition-shouting vocalists, but songs like “Oblivious Shades” and “Thy Blight Vacuum” (which also features gay talking, aka: fagspeak) also hint that these guys have been listening to way too much of Marduk’s recent Post-Metal/Sludge output. I’m all for change, but only if it’s change for the better.

In a lot of ways, Power Metal is a very well defined area with a very well defined sound. When you pick up an album by a Power Metal band like Iron Savior, you pretty much know what you’re going to get. The genre stereotypes are out in full force here. Anthems to Metal? Check. Power ballads? Yup. Blazing guitar solos? In every track. Science Fiction/Fantasy lyrics with heroes slaughtering monsters and faceless evil armies? 90% of the album, buddy. Everything executed with practiced precision? If you’re an Iron Savior fan, you’re getting what Iron Savior does best. Is it anything new or adventurous for the genre? No fucking way. This is Power Metal for Power Metal fans. If you love Power Metal, you’re going to love this - if you don’t already have several different versions of The Landing in various forms from various other bands (including Iron Savior themselves). I’ve heard this from Hammerfall, Total Eclipse, Primal Fear and every other Power Metal band I’ve ever been exposed to. If I didn’t live through the era when Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Angel Witch, Mercyful Fate/King Diamond, Heathen, Anvil Chorus, Brocas Helm and any number of other classic Heavy Metal/Melodic Thrash bands ruled the day, I would think this shit was awesome. Metal and proud as hell of it? Fuck yeah! I’m there with you. The problem I have with Iron Savior is not that they couldn’t pull off an album that kicks ass (this does) but that they couldn’t do something daring or adventurous. This was formula executed to perfection. I’ve been around the Metal block so many times that they’ve named a street after me [Christgrinding Avenue, if I’m not mistaken. -Editor]. Formula executed to perfection is fine, but for a jaded Metalhead like me, The Landing is like Chinese takeout. It’s great when you’re consuming it, but 30 minutes later, you’re hungry again.

What is it with guys named Matti and superb Death Metal? It just seems that whatever project Matti Way decides to sink his teeth into —most notably Disgorge and Pathology— turns out to be guttural gold. His first official release with Russian gore fiends Abominable Putridity is no exception. In fact, The Anomalies of Artificial Origin might possibly be his magnum opus. Eight tracks of relentless, slam-infused Death/Grind that represent a perfect marriage of technical proficiency and barbaric groove. Killing on Adrenaline reborn anyone? You simply can’t put a price on the savage breakdowns found on “A Massacre in the North” or “Letting Them Fall…” The drummer, who goes only by Alexander, steals the show in such moments with a stop-on-a-dime double bass prowess that only high-powered automatic weaponry can match. He has the gravity blast figured out as well. The knuckle-dragging rhythms of “Lack of Oxygen” might even get the jaws in Devourment and Waking the Cadaver to drop. And don’t forget, all the while, Matti Way gargling a live baby. The title track is equipped with enough deedly-doo-deedly-doos to bedazzle the Techgazers… and if you call in the next 10 minutes —’cause we can’t do this all day— we’ll throw in their primitive mosh tactics at no extra charge. “The Last Communion” (which also features new Deeds of Flesh throat Cory Athos on guest gurgles) wraps things up with hooks that could get Stephen Hawking in the pit. It’s unashamedly urban and irresistibly addictive. If there’s anything wrong with the record it’s that it’s too damn short. Mike Muir isn’t the only guy who wants more. I suppose naysayers could also argue that this isn’t anything you haven’t heard before (and from Way himself, no less), but they’re just pissed off at the world because they can’t dance. Neither of these minor flaws will be denying this heavy-hitter a spot in my rotation.

When I saw the Moribund Cult label on this release, I knew that this was going to be some sick ass shit. It is. Azaghal has been at this a long time (since 1995) and this is their third release on Moribund, their ninth album overall. Nemesis kind of reminds me of Dissection at times, particularly where the guitar-work is concerned. It isn’t The Somberlain, but it does kick ass in all the right places. I like that the guitars are front and center with the percussion in the background. The bass isn’t audible but I think the guitar harmonics work better if the six-strings are overpowering. Though the whole album is solid, my favorite tracks are from the second half. The faster, more chaotic stuff comes first, with the more atmospheric and melodic songs saved for later. My favorite track on Nemesis has to be “Ex Nihilo.” It just fucking sounds evil. The riffing is slower and heavier compared to the other songs, but it’s the atmosphere that I really like. Azaghal uses some zoned-out clean vocals, some backwards shit and other effects to inject additional darkness into the track. “Black Legions of Satan” and the title track, “Nemesis,” are tied for second place. “Black Legions of Satan” has a strong hook and an almost Black Heavy Metal feel to it. It’s one that is sure to go over well live because it gets your head banging right away. “Nemesis,” likewise, has a powerful hook and possesses a strong, Bathory-esque “epic” atmosphere, but with a Black Metal sound. This is definitely an album I recommend. The only detraction that I had isn’t even that significant. I would have arranged the tracks in a different order so that things build up to “Ex Nihilo” instead of having that song in the middle of the album. The track is so different from the previous four songs that it’s placement kind of throws you. That’s only a 0.25 point deduction, though. This album is still well worth purchasing and I recommend that folks check it out.

The life of a music addict can be quite fulfilling, yet also very disheartening at the same time. Just like any other junkie, we need our fix, we want it now, and keep it coming. When I first heard Heavy Breathing two years ago, I was immediately hooked. I listened to it nearly every day for several months. I just couldn’t get enough and I ended up burning myself out on it. And then, just like some scatterbrained coke whore with ADD, something else caught my ear and stole my attention, unfairly plunging Black Breath into the backburner depths of forgetfulness (along with ex-girlfriends’ phone numbers and 87% of everything I learned in school). But when I saw Sentenced to Life in my review stack… holy shit, my eyes lit up like a crackhead on Christmas. “The shit be callin’ me, man!!” You see, this Seattle horde’s brew is a potent one, and it’s an extremely unique buzz. They take the early ’90s Swedeath sound and mix it with a pissed off Hardcore urgency. This is high octane brute force, people. The Sunlight tone is nailed harder than Christ’s feet. How authentic is it? A buddy walked in on me playing this album and asked me when Dismember got a new singer. Fans of the aforementioned 2010 masterpiece will be pleased to find that not much has changed. Sure, they may have tightened things up a bit. A somewhat leaner, meaner sound with some of the fat trimmed away. Which sadly means there aren’t any standout Christ-hating anthems as timeless as “Black Sin (Spit on the Cross),” but there’s also no Danzigesque striptease mistakes like “Unholy Virgin” either. “Home of the Grave” is a very different song for these guys, especially the ending, but it doesn’t disrupt the raw, grisly flow of the record. Once again Neil McAdams’ vocals emerge as the star of the show. He’s got a borderline Street Punk/Thrash scream here, yet it lends itself perfectly to the band’s high-energy buzzsaw Death Metal. All I have to say about it is, “FEAST OF THE DAMNED!” Do yourself a solid and pick this shit up. It’s a near flawless ride that’s “hard and it’s heavy, dirty and mean.”

This is not a new Profanatica album, but a compilation of stuff that comprises a new mini-album (the first seven tracks) and the Grand Master Sessions vinyl box set release on CD. The new songs are pretty much in the same vein as the old material on display. Profanatica, even in their earliest incarnation, was more of a Death Metal band than anything else. With a lineage that included Incantation, it’s no surprise that their sound is more Death Metal than what we consider “Black Metal” today. Truth be told, I was never much of a fan of Profanatica or Havohej (basically Profanatica with just Paul Ledney). They were a band that you either loved or hated. I wasn’t really into their kill your mom for Satan / random blasphemy with sexual reference lyrics, or their tendency to appear on their album covers without pants or completely nude. I’m from San Francisco and men who do that kind of shit here are called “fags.” From a marketing perspective, giving prospective fans a really, really good reason to not buy your albums is always bad, and no straight Metalhead is going to want to buy an album with a bunch of nude guys on the cover (unless it’s an orgy scene with an equal or greater number of nude females there, too). Musically, they were never very impressive. Their best material, even here, is their “live in the studio” set (the last nine tracks). The new studio songs have good sound, but the raw, live sound does their music more justice than a sanitized studio recording. The keyboard soundscapes that Aragon Amori made are essentially filler tracks that divide the new music from the old. They aren’t old Mortiis or Wongraven by a long shot. I would have probably liked this more if it was just the “live in the studio” stuff, as the additional material wasn’t very impressive.
[Note: Our review copy has 23 tracks, but apparently some versions of this release only have the first 13. -Editor.]

Holy Hell is it good to hear Crypticus again! I thought Patrick Bruss had fallen off the face of the Earth after dropping 2005’s classic Dedicated to the Impure LP on us. This time he has a real drummer backing him (Brynjar Helgetun of recent Ribspreader/Paganizer fame) and the Crypticus trademark sound of Impaled-gone-Swedeath is still kicking names and taking ass. The vokills are brutally, blatantly, and beautifully pitch-shifted a la Carcass on steroids, adding a nice, thick layer of grime on an already filth-ridden aesthetic. Their half of the split is 11 minutes of gore-drenched perfection.
Scaremaker is the Death Metal lovechild of Billy and Vanessa Nocero of Razorback records-founding fame. I remember Billy from the tangible zine days. The Razorback camp were always some of the coolest folks to correspond with, and they put out some quality underground shit, too. God damn I miss those days. Anyway, they’ve enlisted the talents of Encoffination/Father Befouled skinsman, Elektrokutioner, and the trio’s half of the split is a bit more adventurous. Stylistically a foundation of slow to mid-tempo Old School Death that Impetigo would be proud of, with a few Crust and Sludge hooks thrown in. They also occasionally toy with varied Doom elements, like the mammoth Stoner grooves found on “Demon Slave” and “Mansion of the Macabre” (the former showing that Vanessa is every bit as good a singer as she is a growler). Still, their half is somehow lacking a certain something… I don’t know what. It could just be that nothing sounds as heavy after Crypticus. I’d like to hear what Scaremaker could make of a full-length release with cleaned up, stronger production. Come to think of it, a new long-player from Crypticus wouldn’t hurt either.

This sees the Animosity lineup getting back together for a new album. While I liked Corrosion of Conformity in the old days, I have to say that this album isn’t what I was expecting. There are parts that are heavy, but a lot of this sounds like Soundgarden or some other Seattle Grunge act. I kept waiting for this album to start kicking ass, but it never really happened. The playing was slow, but unlike Doom, it lacked heaviness and atmosphere. You could tell that something was missing. It wasn’t fire-breathing, aggressive music. It was more like Rock & Roll but without any strong hooks or any real groove. At some point, Corrosion of Conformity stopped being angry Hardcore kids and tried to go for some mainstream appeal, but from the sound of things, they’re about a decade late. If these guys can get some strong hooks and memorable riffs into their music, they’ll kick ass. Until then, this leaves me wanting.

It’s always been a puzzle to me how Japan’s Sigh have managed to escape the confines of anonymity throughout their career. Don’t get me wrong, I realize having your debut album on some dude named Euronymous’ label near the peak of the Second Wave’s misanthropic headline-making doesn’t hurt. It also helps if said debut leads off with a Black Metal anthem as timelessly bad-ass as “A Victory of Dakini.” But not long after this, my interest in Sigh dropped off the face of the Earth. I seem to remember a cool bootleg CD of Venom covers, but I’m still waiting on the urge to hear Venom songs result in me reaching for anything other than Venom albums. The music I’ve heard from Sigh over the last decade or so hasn’t even been music. It’s been some kind of shit sandwich on LSD that weaklings at weak mags drool over. In Somniphobia is at least coherent. By far the most Metal they’ve sounded since I was wrapping up the 9th grade. Still, it’s pure shit. I’d literally rather watch reruns of The Golden Girls than subject myself to this unmemorable riff collage. It’s not enough for me to be thankful that a Sigh album actually has riffs. I haven’t seen it yet, but I know in my heart that the aforementioned happy faggot publications will try to tell you that this is the most meaningful music penned since John Lennon’s “Imagine.” It’s not. It sounds like a lower-tier US Black Metal band from 1999 trying to be Cradle of Filth. I don’t care if there’s a hot girl in this band, playing the recorder or whatever she does, I’m NEVER going to fuck her. This LP is a boredom quilt. I’d rather change the battery on a Chevy Lumina naked in subzero temperatures than force myself to like this happy Black/Thrash jam session. Go ahead and close the book. Scorn Defeat is still the only one you need.

When I first heard Brett Campbell sing, it was on “Silent and Completely Overcome” from Loss’s masterfully bleak Despond LP last year. His passionately sorrowful croon took the song to another level, wearing out the Repeat One function on my stereo in the process. Who is this fallen angel of Doom? Where did he come from? Real music tends to inspire research, and a few weeks later I scored a copy of Pallbearer’s 2010 Demo. Three flawless Doom hymns in the traditional vein, that is to say they owe more to Black Sabbath and Saint Vitus than Turn Loose the Swans or Gothic. Quite frankly the best Doom demo since Avernus’s legendary Sadness. It’s no surprise that a deal with Profound Lore quickly ensued and the end result is the full-length debut I now hold in my trembling hands like Gollum. What can I say, it’s a flawless record. It’s essentially the demo, but more of it, with the rough edges polished. Actually “rough edges polished” is a bit of an understatement. These guitars sound like passenger aircraft flying 20 feet above your house. I think Campbell and Devin Holt might be using piano wire instead of guitar strings, with adamantium picks. These riffs are fucking monsters and the suffocating heaviness combined with the record’s morbidly depressive vibe provides an unending sea of eargasms. But Campbell’s voice is the real treasure. It’s equal parts Patrick Walker and a young Ozzy Osbourne, yet with more range and hold than either of them. His soulful, haunting pitch is the perfect vessel for lyrics so dismal and void of hope that they simply had to have been inspired by my “life.” The complete package is pure, traditional Doom euphoria. The slow-motion atmosphere Pallbearer creates is a sonic paradise for the heavy-hearted. This is the band Cathedral wish they could have been. If I had one complaint it’s that at 49 minutes, I wish it lasted 31 minutes longer. They could’ve at the very least included “Gloomy Sunday,” the only song from the demo not re-recorded for the album. But that isn’t so much a complaint as it is extended praise. This band can do no wrong in my eyes. You must own this record. You must worship this record. If by some white sorcery you aren’t immediately hooked, give it time… you will be. Flawless demo, flawless debut… that’s an awfully high bar set for a career. A career I hope is long and prosperous.
“No more time, no more breath
No more hope, no more dawn
Only void…”

There was a time when I eagerly sought out every Death Metal album I could find. I’ve seen and heard it all multiple times. To this day, I still have a soft spot in my blackened heart for Death Metal. I still feel that sense of darkness and frenzy that I felt the very first time I heard Altars of Madness or Left Hand Path whenever I throw those albums on. When I hear a new band, my first thought is to compare the feelings I get to those old-school classics to see how the new kids stack up (not that the NT guys are “new kids,” having all been in many other bands over the years). That being said, They Come at Night punishes me the way I like it. The production on this is fucking sick. If Death Metal had a set of templates for how to produce an album the right way, this would be one of them. Musically, Nocturnal Torment brutalizes you from the opening second and really doesn’t stop until the last song is over. There aren’t any acoustic interludes, atmospheric keyboards or female vocals to be found here. What you get is Death Metal reminiscent of older Swedish Death Metal music with an American Death Metal sound. The formulation is especially apparent on the last track, “Primordial Existence.” The name that keeps popping up in comparison is old Hypocrisy, because they were very much like that. Peter Tagtgren spent time in Florida and when he went back to Sweden to form his band, he took the American Death Metal sound and applied it to the Swedish style and got something of a hybrid. They Come at Night reminds me a lot of that sound. If you listen to this and Osculum Obscenum side by side, they have a lot of the same qualities. If any improvement is to be made, I think what this band needs is to include a strong hook or a strong chorus part to their songs. If there is an Achilles Heel to They Come at Night, it’s in the memorability department. Every song kicks your ass, but there isn’t something that sticks in your head long after you’re done listening to the CD. This is something that takes a lot of work to develop. If these guys can get that aspect covered and maintain their brutality, they’ll be turning heads and snapping necks with the top tier bands in the genre. Even without the strong hook or chorus, They Come at Night holds up well after repeated plays. I’ve listened to this twelve times as of this writing and I’ve yet to get tired or bored of it. When you can say that about an album, it’s got to be good.

Progressive Metal isn’t a genre that I particularly enjoy. I only really like two bands in the genre: Hammers of Misfortune and Anvil Chorus (both Bay Area bands that fucking kill live). One of the many reasons I don’t like Progressive Metal is that the songs are long, meandering and overly complex. Beyond the Bridge is that in spades. Musically, this doesn’t suck, but I can’t say that I like it either. The problem is that it requires too much attention. When I listen to music, I don’t want to analyze the structures to death, trying to figure out what they’re doing. This is essentially an album for people who listen to music for the technical aspect. Yes, the production is great. The musical structures are complex and interesting. The playing is technically flawless. My problem with this album is that I don’t care enough about those things to make an otherwise long, meandering and overly complex album worth listening to. If you love Dream Theater or Fates Warning, you might get a kick out of Beyond the Bridge, too. If you’re not a musician who listens to albums for technicality and nuanced structures, you’re going to be bored out of your fucking mind in no time at all.

This Mexican Death/Doom outfit suffers from an all-too common affliction in the Metal world. A chronic disease known as Onlythefirstsongisgooditis. There is no known cure, barring painfully realistic self-evaluation and a defeated crawl back to the drawing board. It’s clearly evident after multiple listens that the opening title track contains the only really good ideas Majestic Downfall have had up to this point. The finest one being the pure Katatonia-style riff straight from the Brave Murder Day / Sounds of Decay era that ties the song together perfectly. The best description I could offer of this glorious title track would have to be the band’s name. It’s a truly majestic cut embittered by raw despondency. But that’s about it for the album. “From Black to Dead” and “An Untravelled Road” have moments of noteworthy Paradise Lost and Cemetary worship, both in their Doomy primes, but these tracks also suffer from ridiculously cruel lengths (nearly 20 minutes combined). Jacobo Cordova’s vocals just aren’t pro enough to carry that much weight. He really sounds like shit on “Dimension Plague,” which is equally plagued by overwhelmingly vaginal lyrics, and even more so on album closer “Cronos.” During the clean part of the latter… no man’s voice should ever sound like that. There’s also a mind-numbingly boring song that Cordova perhaps penned for his favorite retail outlet entitled, “Army of Salvation.” No joke, that’s what it’s actually called. In summary, download for the terrific first song and trash the rest because you’ll never listen to it.

If this wasn’t recorded at Sunlight Studios, it sure sounds like it was. The Chills has all the hallmarks of old-school Swedish Death Metal, but from an American band. The guitars are sick. For a second, I thought I’d accidentally thrown on some old Entombed or Dismember (Carnage or Nirvana 2002 if you’re a Metal hipster). Then the vocals kicked in and I thought I was listening to Asphyx. Horrendous has multiple singers, but the main vocalist sounds a lot like Martin Van Drunen. If you can imagine Martin fronting Dismember during their Like an Ever Flowing Stream days, it would sound like seven of the nine tracks on The Chills. One of the songs, “Sleep Sickness,” is a keyboard track that serves as an into to “The Eye of Madness.” The other track, “The Ritual,” has a different band member on vocals so it sounds more guttural. The pacing is a bit slower than I expected, but in a way, that’s the only possibility for the riffing to make any kind of sense. If they played faster, this would be a giant ball of distortion. This is a solid release, and fans of old-school Swedish Death Metal will surely enjoy it, even if the band doesn’t come from Sweden.

For those unfamiliar with The 11th Hour, this is longtime Death Metal drummer extraordinaire Ed Warby (Gorefest, Hail of Bullets, Ayreon, Demiurg) trying his hand at Doom Metal, and doing a damn fine job of it I might add. This is his second full-length offering, Burden of Grief being one of the more pleasant surprises of 2009. Now, when I say this is Ed Warby’s baby, I mean it. He’s doing drums, guitars, bass, keyboards, and singing. And yes, I do mean singing. His voice is actually quite good. A work in progress, perhaps, but sounding even more improved this time around. He’s kind of like a poor man’s Patrick Walker (Warning, 40 Watt Sun), and his operatic style gives half of the project’s sound a more traditional Doom feel. What about the other half, you ask? The added dimension of guest Death Metal vocals takes Warby’s ideas to new heights depths. It accentuates the heaviness of the compositions and exposes the heartache that lies within, taking things from “meh” to “whoa!” On the first album it was Rogga Johansson doing guest Death Metal pipes, proving he can do more than write the same kick-ass Paganizer/Ribspreader album over and over again. This time around it’s Pim Blankenstein from longtime underground Death/Doom mainstays Officium Triste. A wise choice for Warby considering Pim knows his way around a forlorn tune like few others. He fills Rogga’s shoes seamlessly, his mournful Death roar in perhaps its finest form ever, adding even more poignant weight to Ed’s contrasting clean croon. The melodies flow like crimson from slit wrists underneath a blanket of monolithic heaviness, while the two vocalists trade light and dark to near perfection. A couple tracks miss the mark slightly, but you can’t do much better than “Rain on Me,” “The Death of Life,” “Reunion Illusion,” “Nothing but Pain,” and “Bury Me” on a rainy, alcoholic night of solitude, when the street light coming through the window and a lit cigarette are all that illuminate the room.