You’ve got to get a tickle out of it when, inevitably, any cumstain that writes a Mayhem review takes that same juvenile cheap shot at all Mayhem detractors. Apparently, we’re all just stuck in the past. We don’t like Mayhem anymore because it isn’t true (almost always read “trve” or “troo” for maximum douchebag effect). Then they call us horrible names, like “purists.” It seems our beef with Mayhem doesn’t stem from all three of their post-DMDS full-lengths sucking raw shit through a straw. Nope, it’s because the calendar doesn’t say 1994 anymore. We don’t despise Grand Declaration of War due to it being anti-memorable, zero-effort noise, it’s because no churches were burnt down. We only call Chimera a plastic, lame abomination because there weren’t any murders or suicides on that one, and our poor reception of Ordo ad Chao has absolutely nothing to do with the album sounding like it was recorded in my ass. It’s because we only want to hear those same 15 songs the band wrote from 1984-1996, and we only want to hear them when people are blowing fire and stabbing dudes in forests. Sorry, that’s just how we are… or more accurately, that’s just how people with no friends who still live with/off their parents assume we are. But things that walking abortions write that piss me off aside, Esoteric Warfare has completely shattered my (lack of) expectations. That is to say, it isn’t bad. It isn’t great, so don’t let any lifelover convince you it is, but it isn’t bad. It actually sounds like a band, as in a cohesive unit, writing songs, which is something that hasn’t pertained to Mayhem since 1997’s excellent Wolf’s Lair Abyss EP. (Strange… I like that one and Dead and Euronymous aren’t on it…) Get this: the drums actually sound like drums! There are —hope you’re sitting down for this one— actual riffs! New guitarist Teloch (Nidingr, NunFuckRitual) has exceptional skill and is not content to coast on white noise in between 4-trick juggling. All of the instruments are audible. I repeat, all of the instruments are audible! That includes Atilla’s trademark vocals. He sounds much better here, but still far away from his best. Twenty years away to be exact. With a voice so bewitching, less is truly more and more is truly less. Alas, I’ve listened to this album over a dozen times and not one song sticks. Still, I have to applaud these guys. It’s taken them 30 years, but they’re starting to nail some of the fundamentals. They’ve remembered how to make songs, now they just have to remember how to make them memorable.
Of course, these finger-on-the-pulse-of-the-working-class critics will see right through me. My real problem with this record is that Blasphemer is gone now. Because, y’know… that’s what single 35-year olds with a mountain of debt, working 45 hours a week, treading water check-to-check are most concerned with… what Blasphemer’s up to.

While this band’s previous LP, 2010’s Mainlining the Lugubrious, had some tenuous connections to Black Metal, the self-titled follow-up goes off into the deep end almost immediately. This is Progressive Post-Black Metal at its worst (or best, perhaps, depending on your musical preferences). Murmur might have started out as a standard Black Metal band back in 2007, when they formed, but this isn’t Black Metal anymore. Hell, I’m hesitant to even call this racket “Metal” at all. The song structures are weird, the music is overly complicated and every track on this album is clearly written for the subset of fans that wants to listen to music for the technical nuances. When I listen to music, I’m not analyzing the songs for weird timings, highly experimental tonal arrangements or creative picking techniques. I don’t mind some technicality or progressive structures, but this was just painful to hear. It actually made Dream Theater and Fates Warning listenable in comparison. Any band that can do that immediately earns a spot on the list of nominees for the coveted Iron Cock Award for Most Masturbatory Musical Release by a Supposedly Black Metal Band. At the moment, Murmur is the only band on the list, but the year is young so other contenders may arise to challenge them for the giant black iron dildo of shame. If you want evil Black Metal that shreds your soul and leaves you torn and maimed forever, you should stay as far away from this record as humanly possible. Unless you’re a masochist in the musical sense, you’re not going to want to waste your time on this crap.

Is it just me, or has 2014 been a year completely barren of essential Black Metal releases? Seriously… where’s the Black? There hasn’t been a single heavy-hitter from any of the scene giants so far. (I haven’t heard the new Mayhem yet, but I’m sure it’ll suck as every Mayhem album post-Wolf’s Lair Abyss has.) Not that Agalloch should or could ever be pigeonholed as just a Black Metal band. Their inspiring musical palette has always encompassed a wide variety of styles, including Black, Folk, Doom, Prog, Post… it’s more of a Grey Metal, if you will. Still, it’s a tall order not to expect these Portlandian champions of all things dark and dreary to fill the void created since I stopped listening to Try Not to Destroy Everything You Love nine hours a day. That doesn’t exactly bode well for anyone willing to accept the fact that each new Agalloch record seems to be less excellent than its predecessor. Case in point: Pale Folklore — an absolute classic; if you don’t own, you don’t know shit about shit. Of Stone, Wind, and Pillor — timeless; I still listen to the Sol Invictus cover on repeat to this day. The Mantle — godlike; utterly mesmerizing perfection. Ashes Against the Grain — …um… I don’t remember much about it, other than it staying in rotation a lot longer than Marrow of the Spirit or Faustian Echoes did. Now, with The Serpent & the Sphere, the band has delivered their slowest burner yet. A largely instrumental LP at a time when I need Haughm to hiss at me the most. It isn’t terrible. Let’s not kid ourselves, these guys couldn’t write bad music if they tried. It just isn’t immediately memorable or outright sizzling with the bleak ‘n’ grim majestic power that allowed these US legends to stand tall in a field dominated by Scandis. It is awfully damn pretty, however. Beautiful clean guitar passages ring out over an ascendant rhythm section throughout, occasionally giving way to those signature acoustic frolics. It’s as introspective and atmospheric as all get out, but severely lacking pain. There seems to be more Prog than passion this time around. More moodiness than malcontent. Glimpses of perfection do reveal themselves on opener “Birth and Death of the Pillars of Creation,” and the heart of the album (“The Astral Dialogue,” “Dark Matter Gods,” and “Celestial Effigy”), but even here there’s more table-setting than main course. Of the last four songs, three are instrumentals, the notes of which cry out loud begging for narrative verse! I need Agalloch to spin me that windswept, frozen cocoon of bitterness, rage, and despondency, where no light nor warmth nor hope dare shine through. What I don’t need is a voice as good as Haughm’s left on the shelf for what feels like 75% of the album. The better the band, the higher the expectations, and —selfish or not— mine were not entirely met.

When I see a band with a name like My Useless Life, I hope and pray to our lord and master, Satan, that it’s dark and bleak Black Metal with suicidal/depressive lyrics. All too often, I’ve been burned and the band turns out to be one of those Emo/Angst-ridden Mallcore bands that whines about how miserable their existence is because mommy and daddy bought them an iPhone 5S in the wrong color. Lucifer only knows what would happen if someone saw that the color of their iPhone clashed with their $300 Beats by Dr. Dre headphones, $1500 Mac Book Pro and their $900 iPad Air! Why, someone’s life might be completely ruined! The horror! (Insert sarcasm where appropriate.) Granted, listening to a bunch of whiny 20-somethings technically qualifies as suicidal/depressive music because it certainly makes me want to commit suicide. And murder. Not necessarily in that order, though. Luckily, My Useless Life is as dark and depressing as I’d hoped. The band hails from Sacramento, California (not exactly a hotbed of Depressive Black Metal, I know…), and this is their second LP. I missed their first album, 2012’s On the Edge, but this new one is really good and makes me want to seek out the debut. The music on Negative Memories is sorrowful and melodic, skirting the edges of Doom at times in terms of speed, though it lacks the heaviness that would put it with true Doom Metal. It doesn’t possess me to want to slit my wrists or jump off of a cliff any more than normal - I average ten to twelve suicidal thoughts a day and I didn’t notice any upticks in my desires to end my life while listening to this LP - but it did put me in a nice deep blue funk the way old Katatonia does. My Useless Life has a good grasp of melody and atmosphere, using various means to achieve that melancholic and dreary feeling you get from each of their songs. Another plus on this record’s already impressive list of good qualities is the fact that all of the songs are excellent. Each one has its own identity, but at the same time, they all fit in with the general dark and sorrowful vibe of the LP as a whole. It’s rare that I hear an album where all of the songs fucking rock, but Negative Memories pulls it off well. This is definitely one to check out.

In Chinese, a “Ghost Bath” is when you kill yourself by drowning. With a name like that, you’re not going to get happy music by any means. I’d heard that this band was Depressive Black Metal, so I kind of expected them to be more like Burzum, incorporating grim and suicidal atmospheres by way of droning guitar riffs and repetitive song structures. This is not the case. The closest we get to Burzum is the vocalist, 多诺万, wailing away like a banshee. Funeral is a strange listen to say the least. The music is melodic and unsettling, but I’m hesitant to call it depressive or very dark. There are lots of acoustic guitar parts and melodic solos interspersed throughout the length of this album, and while it’s well played, it lacks the dark atmosphere that you need for music like this. It’s like walking through a graveyard at night, but with reasonable lighting instead of stumbling around with only moonlight to guide you. You might feel a bit unsettled by the gravestones all around you, but you don’t have the terror of the unknown that you’d get if you were out there in the dark. A part of this lack of atmosphere stems from the music, but the vocals also play a significant role. The screeching that passes for singing on Funeral is disruptive. Some bands experimented with this style of vocals back in the early ’90s, but dropped it after a while because the sound took away far more atmosphere than it ever added. When you’re trying to build a grim or melancholic ambiance, nothing shoots it down faster than the wailing vocals. Part of it has to do with the pitch, which is extremely high, contrasting negatively against the lower tones in the rest of the music. I’m not saying that they should ditch their current singer, but a serious rethinking of how he delivers the vocals is definitely in order. Funeral did have some interesting moments, though. Aside from the detractions, this was a fairly well executed LP when it came to the music. If they can sort out the vocals and add some darker atmospherics to their sound, their next release could be pretty deadly.

In the most shocking turn of events this decade has seen to date, Finnish goat-worshippers Impaled Nazarene have completely changed their style on album #12. It’s true, folks. Their first record in four years finds them swapping their trademark Blackened Punk Metal for a contemporary fusion of Occult Rock, Shoegaze, Prog, and full-on Djent, with just a sprinkle of Appalachian Southpaw Jazz. Longtime followers of the band’s 24-year career will undoubtedly be taken aback by the inclusion of a 36-piece orchestra and the new positive outlook found on numbers like “Peace & Love or We (Won’t) Riot,” “Paying Bills = Awesome,” “Seatbelts Save Lives,” and “Sex Can Wait (I’m Worth It),” not to mention the group’s puzzling albeit heartfelt re-imagining of Phil Collins’ “Why Can’t It Wait ‘til Morning.” Equally questionable is frontman Mika Luttinen’s decision to forgo the microphrone altogether in favor of Finland’s oldest-known percussive instrument, the fukkiinukkiisukkiidukkii, which is entirely handcarved out of the bones of dead faggots.
HA! Just kidding. Had you going for a second, didn’t I? Come on, people. This is Impaled fucking Nazarene. Steelvagina is still their god and Sir Mikaakim Sluti666 Penetrator is still the killer of trolls. (He shoots those fuckers, no remorse.) It’s fast, it’s loud, it’s intense, it’s profane, and it’s a critic’s worst nightmare. What can I possibly say about an Impaled Nazarene album that hasn’t been said before? If you’re familiar with the band, you already know what you’re getting. Not a ton of guesswork involved with songs called “Flaming Sword of Satan” and “Pathological Hunger for Violence.” And if you aren’t familiar with them (aka: you don’t rock hard), either kill yourself or get the fuck started. Take your pick of any album. They’re all pretty much as interchangeable as the 13 tracks on offer here. If it sounds like I’m complaining, I’m not. While it’s uncertain if Vigorous and Liberating Death will have the same staying power 20 years from now that classics like Ugra - Karma, Suomi Finland Perkele, and Latex Cult still have today, it’s a worthwhile addition to their boisterous canon and well up to par with their last handful of LPs. It’s nice to see a legendary act not fixing what isn’t broken instead of kindly bending over to free us from what it says on the tin. Hail Planet Nazarene or feel the wrath of the Goat. Let’s fucking die.

Some people say that I look back upon the short-lived career of Demilich with rose-colored lenses. I’ve heard people tell me that the band was more hype than ability, and that Nespithe wasn’t even that good of an LP to begin with. Of course, these are the same people who get extremely offended when I say that Sunbather by Deafheaven isn’t Black Metal, and that, regardless of how many critics think it’s the future of extreme music, I don’t see what’s so great about a record full of angst-ridden, Alt-Rock infuse hipster bullshit. Demilich might be known more for Antti Boman’s extremely low-pitched “Swamp Thing with a sore throat” vocals than for anything else, but in terms of their music, they were ahead of their time. Before bands like Necrophagist, Embryonic Devourment or Origin, there was Demilich. Technical Brutal Death Metal didn’t exist as a genre of its own when Nespithe was released in 1993. That didn’t come until much later. Now, I’m not a big fan of Technical Brutal Death Metal. I think that the bulk of it is needlessly overcomplicated and it’s borderline musical masturbation more often than not. I do, however, make allowances for Demilich because they were trying to be different in an era when everyone wanted to be either Entombed or Morbid Angel (depending on which side of the Atlantic Ocean they were on). Their music was dark and twisted, and though it was technical, it had an atmosphere that was unique at the time. This 2CD release is a compilation of all of the band’s history, dating back to their original demo material through the last recordings made during their brief reunion. If you’re like me and you already own Nespithe, the additional recordings are definitely worth it because not only do you have their one and only LP, you have their full discography in one collection. You can track the band’s evolution, and though the music does sound a bit uneven in places although it has all been remastered (including Nespithe), it’s still an interesting listen. The newest recordings are the best sounding, but the older tracks still sound pretty good in comparison. Fans of Technical Brutal Death Metal will probably get the most out of this compilation, though old-school Death Metal fans who remember Nespithe will like it, too. If there is one thing that keeps this from complete awesomeness, it’s the fact that Demilich wasn’t around long enough to have an extensive discography. Many of the songs are repeated several times, having been recorded and then re-recorded again over the years. Each version sounds a bit different, but ultimately you’re hearing some stuff over and over again. Still, as a fan of the band, I didn’t mind that too much. I went in knowing what this was, but I still wanted to hear it anyway. I know that a full-length album with new material is probably never going to happen (though the band has reunited several times over the years), but a release like 20th Adversary of Emptiness keeps me hoping.

Few Death Metal supergroups short of the almighty Bloodbath —inarguably responsible for the greatest Death Metal songs written in the last decade and a half— impress on the level of Gregor Mackintosh’s Vallenfyre. Anyone who still hasn’t tracked down their spectacular 2011 debut, A Fragile King, needs to get the fuck on that in a hurry. Bump it up to the top of that to-do list, because the Paradise Lost guitarist and his band of (un)merry mates have made this follow-up bigger, better, badder, and beefier, so you’re going to need some lube. Splinters is without question the first utterly essential Death Metal release of 2014. The Doom parts are Doomier, the Grind parts are Grindier, the Crust parts are Crustier, Mackintosh’s growl is growlier, and the guitars… HOLY FUCK!!! Mere days ago I was 100% committed and prepped to declare the guitar sound on the new Triptykon LP as the heaviest ever achieved. No, sir. I’m glad I put Melana Chasmata on the backburner for so long because that honor unequivocally goes to Splinters. Major props to producer extraordinaire Kurt Ballou for sprinkling pixie dust on the HM-2 sound before injecting it with the same kind of Cuban horse steroids Yasiel Puig is on. GOD DAMN!!! Thor couldn’t lift this guitar sound. For the best description of these guitars, look no further than the gent playing them, as Hamish Glencross recently went on record somewhere stating that the guitars sounded like “someone sawing wood.” Apt to say the least. But the biggest overall difference between this monster and the debut, is that this time there is no filler whatsoever. Musically, vocally, lyrically, and stylistically there is absolutely nothing left for the OSDM fiend to desire except repeated listens (and perhaps another round). I certainly don’t want to say that I’m glad Gregor’s father passed away (see A Fragile King review for clarification), but I sure as shit am thankful that Vallenfyre exists. For a project that features members of Paradise Lost, My Dying Bride, and At the Gates, believe me when I tell you that Splinters could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with any random classic you’d care to pull from that overstuffed bag of goodies. Flawless.

A lot of Metal fans see the discography of a Japanese band and wonder why they have an extensive number of singles to their credit. In Japan, things are a bit backwards compared to the rest of the world. In most anywhere else, a band will record a full-length LP and then release a single to promote it. In Japan, the singles come long before a full-length LP. By the time the album comes out, most Japanese fans have heard all of the good songs on it already. Last Stardust is the latest single from Blood Stain Child and if you have any of their previous releases, you’re getting more of what they do best. It’s a continuation of what they did on Epsilon (one of the five tracks here, “Stargazer - X-,” was originally released on Epsilon) and Mozaiq, but further refined. For those who haven’t heard the music of Blood Stain Child before, they’re pretty accurately described as Trance Metal. It mixes Trance/Techno electronics with Melodic Death Metal in a combination that sounds like what would happen if Strapping Young Lad (1st LP era) was brought in to do a collaboration LP with a Japanese Dance/Pop Idol. It is on the commercially accessible side, but it still has a Metal edge to it that no amount of Trance-influenced keyboards can cover up. It’s both intense and furious but also upbeat and catchy. It’s beautiful and violent at the same time, and the band is able to delicately balance things so that one aspect doesn’t dominate the other. It’s a bit odd when you first hear it, but before long, you’re banging your head along with the music and searching iTunes for the rest of the band’s discography. They used to sound more than a little like Children of Bodom on their earliest releases, but as time wore on they started incorporating more Trance/Techno influences into their music. The previously mentioned Epsilon and Mozaiq are the best representatives of their current musical direction. If you’re a fan of Blood Stain Child (or any other Japanese band), I recommend checking the digital sites (Amazon, iTunes, etc.) because unless the band has a domestic release, buying the physical version is going to be insanely expensive. I’m a huge fan of Japanese music, and having purchased a lot of it over the years, I can tell you that a CD from Japan will cost at least twice as much (sometimes more) as a domestic release. I know that a new full-length LP might not be released anytime soon, but I’m definitely interested in hearing it.

A complex beast of a record, I had to sit on Melana Chasmata for well over a month and I’m still not sure if I’m completely ready to review it. I spent a couple weeks on the genre tags alone, deciding to settle on Gothic Metal —because those really aren’t dirty words when Tom G. Warrior’s involved— and Doom — because it’s slow and heavy. Really fucking heavy. I’m talking cement shoes heavy. Seriously, each chord stroke on this album sounds like all life ending (especially through headphones). But musically speaking, it’s difficult to sum up in words. The one thing I do know —which Fischer has even acknowledged himself— is that it isn’t always perfect. Anything this guy’s touched since 2006 has received the automatic Lifetime Achievement Award and I’m sick of that shit. He could record his morning piss and get a 10/10 in every publication in the free world. Don’t get me wrong, I worship at the altar of everything from Hellhammer To Mega Therion, but Monotheist is not a flawless record and neither was the first Triptykon. Great albums, not perfect ones. Melana Chasmata is also a great album. I’d even go as far as calling it the best thing TGW’s done since 1990’s criminally underrated Vanity/Nemesis LP (unless you’d like to count that truly awesome rendition of “Babylon Fell” by Apollyon’s Sun from Dwell’s 1996 Celtic Frost tribute). But it isn’t perfect, so don’t tell me it is because you have a man-crush. I’ll prove it to you. Let’s break it down track-by-track:
“Tree of Suffocating Souls” — a wise choice to lead off with; hard-charging, aggressive, big riffs; Warrior sounds pissed; V. Santura’s backing vox are a little too open-mic-night for me; could’ve done without the spoken bits.
“Boleskine House” — slow and moody; bass so heavy I pee a little every time; Fischer’s clean vox not so bad; Santura’s bark a bit more bite here; Simone Vollenweider’s voice is breathtaking; immortal chug; memorable vocal patterns.
“Altar of Deceit” — brutal mid-paced stomper; classic Frosty bends; classic Warrior grunts; “EW!!”; memorable chorus; more “EW!!”; great song.
“Breathing” — at 5:50, it’s this album’s “You Suffer”; a little speed; a little “EW!!”; great lyrics; headbang break; life sucks really bad; this song doesn’t.
“Aurorae” — a scrap from the Monotheist era; probably should’ve stayed a scrap; TGW’s cleanies again solid; just a flat-out boring song; closing solo can’t save it.
“Demon Pact” — big textures; big dynamics; sounds like Fischer is shouting, “INCINERATE MY BALLS!!”; can’t keep a straight face after that.
“In the Sleep of Death” — solid, brooding cut; haunting melodies; immortal chug; TGW moans, “Emily,” like some half-awake valley girl with the flu; momentruiner.
“Black Snow” — sorry, this song’s too long; great chorus/hook alternates with bouts of drifting filler for 12 minutes.
“Waiting” — more of Vollenweider’s angelic pipes; mmmm; very hypnotic closer, albeit a tad redundant.
So there’s your proof. A spectacular effort. An hour-long musical journey with big ups and deep downs. As emotive as it is dark, and bone-chillingly heavy throughout. Just not perfect.
Note: rating upped one-quarter of a point for the Giger artwork… which is perfect.

Picking up where last year’s Empyrean LP left off, Mechina is back again, delivering more of their patented brand of Industrial Death Metal. If you’ve never heard Mechina’s music before, they sound a lot like what would happen if Dimmu Borgir and Behemoth were digitized a-la Tron and forced to fight Daft Punk and Skrillex in an epic battle to the death within a computerized arena where no holds are barred and the laws of physics are distorted. It’s pretty wild and crazy to say the least. Parts of it are clearly influenced by the soundtrack to Tron: Legacy (written and performed by Daft Punk) but with a heaping dose of Dubstep and Techno influences added in to the mix. It’s very “futuristic” sounding, and while some may not like the overpowering keyboards and effects, I did find this album to be a very interesting listen. There’s a lot of aggressive music to be found here, which is what I liked the most. It has many atmospheric elements, but it never forgets to kick ass. If anything, the atmospherics add to the ass kicking. It’s like listening to a Death Metal version of an epic fight scene from a science fiction film, maybe the fight scene between Cloud and Sephiroth in Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children or something similar. You don’t often get the futuristic vibe in Metal music but Mechina is really good at it. If you’ve heard 2013’s Empyrean LP, Xenon is a step up in terms of production and power. The music is noticeably more aggressive and hard-hitting. The futuristic elements, while omnipresent on both releases, are even more epic and powerful, too. If you liked Empyrean, you’ll love Xenon.

I’m not sure if the guys in Caliban have lost their identity, or if they’ve ever truly had one of their own to begin with. All I know is that I used to highly anticipate their new releases, and lately I’ve come to dread them. Looking back at their respectable 17-year career, I suppose they’ve always been a mirror image of the Metalcore climate at the time (even long before it became a household genre tag). They came up with Heaven Shall Burn, they gigged with Heaven Shall Burn, they’ve done splits with Heaven Shall Burn, and their earliest work unequivocally sounds a lot like Heaven Shall Burn. No complaints here, but the point in time when Caliban really began to up their game (2003’s Shadow Hearts and 2004’s The Opposite from Within) via beefier production, ballsier melodies, and emotive clean singing just so happened to coincide with the breakthrough success of like-minded scene giants in years prior (Poison the Well, Killswitch Engage, and From Autumn to Ashes to name just a few). Still no complaints. These German mosh wizards did the Emo-tinged brutality thing as well as if not better than anyone, and they essentially rode that style to glory all the way through 2009’s Say Hello to Tragedy. But now the year is 2014. Metalcore has become a dirty word, and in most cases not without good reason. The genre has stretched itself paper thin in recent years, warped beyond recognition through desperate hybrid attempts ranging from Dance Pop to Glam Rock. For Caliban to assimilate with their surroundings these days means only career suicide. Thankfully they haven’t gone that far off the deep end yet, but with 2012’s I Am Nemesis, I began to sense the infiltration of an inauthentic alien presence (“you-got-a-fuck-ing-be-kid-ding-me” is right). Still not a complete failure, the record did have its solid hits, but far too many misses by Caliban standards. With Ghost Empire, the band has drifted even farther into what’s-hot-now insanity. For the first time ever, the once-mighty Teutonic titans have delivered an LP that’s more fizzle than sizzle. It’s littered with uncharacteristic tactics like Radio Rock, Djent, Prog, Electronica, and even Southern Rock. It feels like a Hot Topic throwing up on your boots. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not Caliban. The only two songs here worth a mixtape’s B-side are “Devil’s Night” —with its infectious clean-vocal chorus— and “Your Song” — with its hooks and gang sing-along qualities. Nothing else on the album comes close. Schizophrenic trend soup from a group capable of so much more. Caliban has the talent, the passion, and the seniority to be leaders, yet Ghost Empire follows blindly.

There exists a place that music critics dread. It exists somewhere in between “absolute crap” and “could be better.” It’s where bands like Innsmouth dwell, and is a place of abject boredom and painful tedium. Everyone is familiar with it but there are no words to describe it. It just is. You’ve just entered… The Blah Zone. Cue the shitty Twilight Zone music now. Yes, Consumed by Elder Sign, the debut full-length by Australian Death Metal band Innsmouth, is almost painful to listen to. It isn’t because the album sucks. If it sucked, this review would be much easier to write. It’s just so bland and lifeless that even describing how unexciting it sounds was extremely difficult. The music is slow, ponderous and about as dead on its feet as you can get without qualifying as in a vegetative state. On paper, it looks like this should be an awesome LP. The members of Innsmouth have all played in a number of bands (some of them fairly well known within the Australian scene) prior to this and they’ve been part of the Extreme Metal scene for ages. They should know what kick-ass Death Metal sounds like, right? They might know what it sounds like, but obviously they don’t know how to create their own. This lacks any sort of energy or heaviness. Even the awesome power of Cthulhu can’t save the music from absolutely depressing mediocrity. Consumed by Elder Sign has lyrics that are based on the writing of H.P. Lovecraft, but given the music and performance, you’d think the guys were writing about the daily life of cats. Only Innsmouth could take unimaginable horrors from beyond space and time and make them boring. Seriously, I’ve seen test patterns on TV that were more exciting than this album. The aggression factor needs to be ramped up by at least tenfold before I would consider it sufficient. When I listen to Death Metal, I want it to kick my ass, not put me to sleep. All Consumed by Elder Sign does for me is make me want to listen to a different record, preferably one that causes massive damage to my neck from headbanging. If you can’t use Ambien, but you have trouble sleeping, this is the LP for you. If you want kick ass Death Fucking Metal, look elsewhere.

Despite harsh ridicule from geezers and the poseur elite, I’ve unashamedly remained a diehard Emmure fan for the better part of a decade now. After all, one can’t help what one likes, and if one lies about what one likes, well… then that one is posing. However, Eternal Enemies might very well be where I have to draw some sort of line. By far the weakest record the band has ever put out, and certainly no reward for those who defend the group’s pit-friendly, attitude-laced Deathcore. The subtle signs of decline that bled through on previous outing Slave to the Game are far more apparent this time around. Things start out on a solid note with the hilariously titled “Bring a Gun to School,” but this is more of an intro, really, and the remaining 14 tracks range from not bad to not great to WHAT THE FUCK? Six albums in seven years has unequivocally taken its toll on the band from a creative standpoint. In the past, the energy these miscreants produced through groove and bile alone provided enough adrenaline to cure the common cold. (This literally happened for me a couple years ago while listening to Speaker of the Dead. No joke.) On Eternal Enemies, they’re just going through the motions, recycling already-recycled pit riffs, and phoning in rubbish like “E,” which is essentially three minutes of incessant crowd-baiting. The best songs found here would be considered filler on any one of their first four Victory albums. Perhaps an even bigger hindrance is frontman Frankie Palmeri’s lack of overall effort. It seems like he’s doing a lot more talking than growling these days, and on the lyrical side he’s completely out of shit to say. Believe it or not, there was once a poignant side to the man’s lyrical approach. Just check out 2007’s Goodbye to the Gallows —my all-time personal Emmure fave— with its odes to heartache, depression, aborted sons, and the pain that only selfish whores can inflict. Now all we get is a hundred different ways of saying, “I’m awesome, you suck… I’m real, you’re fake.” Don’t believe me? Just read this chorus to the self-fulfillingly titled “Most Hated”:
“Yeah, I’m the motherfucker people always talkin’ about / Aw shit / I see you standing arms crossed tryin’ to stare me down / Get bent / So if you wanna see me fail, I say it nice and loud / Eat dick / And you can hate me all you want because I don’t give a shit…”
Trust me, it’s sounds even more laugh-out-loud horrible than it looks in print. Is this guy really that insecure and delusional? I don’t think so. I think he’s just mentally exhausted. Album/tour, album/tour, album/tour… that’s all his life is now. Throw in some bad criticism and you get a lyric sheet that’s 98% trash talk. (Anyone who says “I don’t give a shit” twelve times per song clearly does give a shit.) Take a break. Go on hiatus. Regroup. Refocus. I just don’t see this band ever returning to form without doing so.

The UK is home to a large number of bands that are almost criminally underrated. Though many have heard of English Heritage Black Metal stalwarts, Winterfylleth, there are quite a number of others out there that deserve a listen or two, or twelve. One such band is London-based Black/Death Metal horde Lvcifyre. Technically, the band is international, but the main member/songwriter is guitarist/vocalist T. Kaos, who lives in London. The others come from various countries and though they are full members, I’m not sure how active the group is when it comes to rehearsing and playing live. In a lot of ways, this band reminds me of fellow London residents Sidious in that they share a similar old Morbid Angel/Behemoth style, though Lvcifyre is more focused on the Death Metal side of things where Sidious is more atmospheric (though no less intense). Svn Eater starts off a bit slow and heavy, but quickly things become fast and brutal. Much like the new Behemoth LP (The Satanist), when the tempo picks up, the drumming becomes dominant. You can still hear the guitars, but Menthor (Enthroned/Nightbringer) quite nearly drowns them out when he goes into blast mode. This brings us to the drum sound. If you hate light switch bass drum tones, this album will drive you out of your mind. It’s almost constant and while the snare does push it further into the background sometimes, it’s pretty inescapable. I don’t know if they’re triggered, but the clicking sound that the bass drums make when Menthor double-basses is like a hypersensitive Geiger counter at the Fukushima Nuclear Reactor. I didn’t mind it so much, but I do know people who hate it. Musically, this LP is brutal, dark, and though it does sound a lot like Behemoth and old Morbid Angel, I did enjoy the pummeling that Lvcifyre gave me throughout the course of Svn Eater.

Eastern Frontier in Flames is a compilation of the band’s long out of print Anti-Urban (2007) and Slavonic Chronicles (2010) EPs and their “half” (more like three-quarters) of the recent vinyl-only Thousands of Moons Ago / The Gates split with Winterfylleth. My feelings on a release like this are mixed. On one hand, it’s awesome that Drudkh would reissue these rare EPs so that those of us who previously missed out can finally hear them. On the other hand, a band like Drudkh rarely releases an EP, so there’s a significant amount of time between when the songs on each one were recorded. There were three full-length albums between Anti-Urban and Slavonic Chronicles, though only one was released between Slavonic Chronicles and Thousands of Moons Ago (there were still four years between each EP, though). The difference in production and the songwriting is noticeable and it’s easy to tell when one EP ends and the next begins. In a way, this compilation gets better as you go along. Anti-Urban was kind of underproduced, having a guitar tone that was treble-heavy and paper thin. The music was also far more Burzum-esque than their later material, which was pretty representative of their style back in 2007. Slavonic Chronicles is more Slavic Folk-influenced and reminds me somewhat of bands like Graveland or Nokturnal Mortum. The songs on Thousands of Moons Ago are all cover tracks (Hefeystos, Unclean and Sacrilegium) and while they are done in the style of Drudkh, they really don’t fit in with the rest of the band’s material, although they do sound the best, with superior guitar tones and recording quality. I liked each different era of Drudkh’s music, but with so many years between the EPs, it really doesn’t represent the history of the band very well. Still, if you’re already a fan and you’re missing one or more of these releases, it’s well worth tracking down. The quality of the material here is very high, and though the sound isn’t consistent, it matches up with anything that Drudkh was releasing on their full-length albums at the time.

This is not the type of Death Metal record one would expect from a band whose moniker is a tongue-in-cheek nod to a bowel disorder. These Stockholm upstarts owe more to the likes of Opeth and Dissection than they do to Entombed or Grave on album #2. The title of this kid-gloves-off sophomore outing —meaning roughly “to dream”— is very apropos, as Sweven is certainly on the dreamier side of the Death Metal spectrum, which by no means implies weakness. More like a penchant for wandering off into Proggier —some might even argue psychedelic— territories. Fortunately for the listener, focus is retained more often than not, and Robert Andersson’s twisted Marc Grewe-circa-Odium snarl is always lurking around the corner to remind us this is, in fact, the Metal of Death. A very raw production also assists to curtail any hint of pretension that might seep through. Quite frankly, it’s hard not to be impressed by Andersson and Edvin Aftonfalk’s roaming virtuoso axemenship. If any guitar team could ever lend validity to the dreaded act of navelgazing, this just might be the duo to do so. They effortlessly channel the adventurous spirit of Morningrise on instant standout “Chains,” while the shimmering majestic melody of “Towards a Dark Sky” sounds like some lost hook from The Somberlain. Elsewhere, “It Stretches in the Hollow” recalls the schizophrenic moodiness of Pan-Thy-Monium, and just try not to get lost in the apocalyptically emotive clean-guitar passages of instrumental closer “Terminus.” I suppose my only real complaint would be the somewhat scant use of vocals. Andersson clearly graduated with honors from the Schuldiner School of Death Metal Vokills —possibly under Professor Van Drunen— and I often find myself wishing he’d use that highly effective tool more consistently. (Just a verse or two on the aforementioned “Terminus” in particular would’ve really sealed the deal for me.) This slight lack of vocal direction on such a boundless musical odyssey tends to create a bit of a mind-wandering situation at times, specifically on the latter half of the album. Nevertheless, a career-defining breakthrough effort from a promising young quartet with the balls and chops to shake up the NWOOSSDM blueprint.

When it comes to the band I’ve never heard before on Relapse, these days there isn’t much middle ground for me to speak of. It’s either going to be surprisingly fantastic (ASG’s Blood Drive was a top ten list penetrator for yours truly last year, and perhaps only Bloodbath and/or Lonely the Brave have a chance of dethroning Nothing’s Shoegaze/Alt Rock masterpiece Guilty of Everything from the #1 spot in 2014), or it’s going to be something so awfully bad it just doesn’t need to exist (trying to tell Inter Arma and Howl apart gave me writer’s block for half a year). This fifth full-length from Chicago’s Indian unfortunately falls into the latter category. Nothing more than a pointless exercise in noise-making, imagine Eyehategod playing Funeral Doom without even the slightest ability to craft a remotely memorable riff. While the quartet successfully achieves a nasty filth-ridden guitar sound, big league production quality, and a truly dark, oppressive vibe completely barren of light or hope, they don’t do a damn thing with it that the listener will have an ice cream cone’s chance in Hell of actually remembering. (On that note, this is probably the type of band that claims to not care what anyone thinks of their “music,” but there’s a price tag on their merch that says they do.) This is just endless slow-for-the-sake-of-slow chord strumming —without ever arriving at an actual rhythm figure or hook— with the obligatory feedback and prototypical Sludge screamer. This might make a decent soundtrack to an ultra-brutal snuff film, but on its own, From All Purity is more like being tortured than watching it.
Recommended for fans of: being incredibly bored.
Highlights include: pressing stop.

Originally called Death Frost, Poland’s Kriegsmaschine has been around for a while. Though this is only their second full-length LP, they have an extensive back catalog that includes three split releases, three demos and an EP (A Thousand Voices, 2004). There is also a compilation CD that features rare and unreleased tracks. Enemy of Man comes almost a decade after 2005’s Altered States of Divinity debut full-length album, and shows considerably growth in both songwriting and sound. While there are those who might point out the somewhat obvious similarities to fellow Poles Behemoth, the bulk of Enemy of Man treads different territory. The riffing is dark and sometimes atonal, mixing higher and lower sounds together to create a grim and churning sea of evil music. My personal favorite tracks were “Farewell to Grace” and “Asceticism and Passion,” both of which have sinister atmospheres. “Farewell to Grace” had a lot of Dark Ambient effects in the background (chanting, tortured screams, etc.) and it added quite a bit to the song. “Asceticism and Passion,” on the other hand, had an almost tribal drumming style and the vocals were reminiscent of Attila (Mayhem). The other tracks, while not as great as those two, were still highly recommendable. Even though there are times where the specter of Behemoth makes an appearance (mostly in the vocals and the production), Kriegsmaschine is far from being a clone. If you’re a fan of evil sounding Black Metal, Enemy of Man doesn’t disappoint and it’s an LP that I highly recommend tracking down.

I experienced an erection lasting longer than four hours when I discovered that Massacre was coming out with a new full-length for the first time in 18 years (and with a spoiler-alert title like Back from Beyond, potentially their first good full-length in 23 years). However, I did feel an unsafe drop in blood pressure upon learning that Kam Lee would not be involved with said new album. With no disrespect to founding members/Death Metal OGs Rick Rozz (guitar) and Terry Butler (bass), or even new vocalist Edwin Webb (former throat for the eternally so-so Diabolic), Kam Lee was Massacre to this pimply-faced teen in the early ’90s. Still —despite decades of life painfully teaching me to do the exact opposite— I hoped for the best. As usual… no such luck. After days upon days of listening to Back from Beyond exclusively, I just might have to start taking nitrates for chest pain. Aside from extreme disappointment, I feel absolutely nothing from this album whatsoever. Before you assume the obvious, I should point out that it is not entirely Webb’s fault. As far as the unthinkably daunting task of replacing Kam Lee behind the mic for fucking Massacre is concerned, he does a commendable job. He’s basically a poor man’s George Fisher, and while I’m sure there’s a Corspegrinder/”Corpsegrinder” joke in here somewhere, I’m just not in the mood. The reason this comeback attempt falls flat on its ass is the overwhelmingly dull musical backdrop Webb is growling over. Taking the bite right out of his bark, these songs just plod along in the same lifeless, unremarkable fashion as the last couple Grave records, meaning to hear one track is to have heard them all. Absolutely impossible to sit through without tuning out, the listener may very well acquire acute attention deficit disorder by mid-LP. If you’re a pure masochist, or just don’t want to take my word for it, you might as well shell out for the Limited Edition. You’ll get the two bonus Death covers —”Corpsegrinder” and “Mutilation”— which, while not the greatest Death covers ever recorded, are at least actual Death Metal songs. Trust me when I say that they’re the only memorable cuts on display here, making material originally written by Death being the standout the only thing this letdown has in common with 1991’s From Beyond.