I always wrestle with the notion of reviewing my guilty mainstream pleasures within the pages of Metal Curse. Ultimately I should be writing about what interests me, and a band that actually gives you a little storyline to work with only makes the temptation greater. But do major label acts really need exposure from underground-dedicated webzines? Well… maybe. This is the digital age (sad face) and exposure is a somewhat outmoded concept. My right ball has a Twitter account with 60 followers, and most “people” only “listen” to music for about 90 seconds at a time on their soul-devouring smartphones anyway (sad face w/tear). With AiC, the decision is much easier to go through with. Whether they admit it or not, most Metalheads love them, and compared to the plethora of Retro-Rock bands currently being signed in the wake of Ghost’s success, what AiC is doing these days sounds like fucking Bolt Thrower! Speaking of Ghost, it’s time I gave producer Nick Raskulinecz a round of applause. He’s been a busy beaver of late. Twiddling the knobs for recent masterworks by Deftones, Papa Emeritus & Co., and now this legendary Seattle outfit, it’s easy to take for granted how naturally fantastic everything this guy touches sounds. Job well done. As for The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here, it’s a nearly flawless hour of gloom. All skeptics —myself included— who cringed at the thought of AiC minus the late, great Layne Staley were firmly silenced by 2009’s Black Gives Way to Blue. Downcast hook-laden hits like “A Looking in View,” “Check My Brain,” and “Your Decision” were too good to resist, and the LP turned out to be roughly 80/20 Cantrell/DuVall in the vocal department anyhow. The same holds true for their 2nd post-Staley output, except it’s an even better overall record. There’s no filler here whatsoever. Some songs may feel a bit longer than others —all but 2 of the 12 tracks eclipse the 5-minute mark— but the album as a whole achieves a deeper darkness than its predecessor. Dreary gems like “Hollow,” “Pretty Done,” and “Voices” might be the closest thing to Doom you’ll ever hear on FM airwaves in the Midwest (old Black Sabbath jams notwithstanding). Slow, hard, and dolorously dour —with riffs for the air guitar ages and frequently witty lyrical genius— this album has an ever-present “too old, too cold” vibe that resonates all too well with yours truly more and more everyday. These days I find music most enjoyable alone in the dark with all my vices at hand. Dinosaurs is just as suitable a companion for such evenings as any Extreme Metal recording you’d care to put it up against.

I don’t have much information on this band. Like most groups that are on bandcamp.com, their webpage is fairly sparse. I know that they are from The Netherlands and that there are three members (HTM, SS and MDJ). There isn’t much else about them. Their music is kind of chaotic and jumbled together in a ball of sound that is part Beherit, part Blasphemy and a bit like the improvised style of Bestial Summoning but with keyboards added to the cacophony. It’s very hard to get a handle on where these guys are going because it almost sounds like they don’t know where they’re going with this, either. They do, however, know how to put together some seriously dark and twisted music. The “massive ball of sound” production on this LP is part of the reason it’s so fucked up and evil. Everything blends together in a seething mass of dissonant keyboards, pounding drums, raspy vocals and “a chainsaw with little or no bass” guitars. Face it, this isn’t the new Stratovarius album. You aren’t going to get awesome sound and technical prowess from Ithuriel. What you’re going to get is some insanely chaotic Black Metal that will appeal to fans of The Oath of Black Blood-era Beherit in particular. Though I tend to like my music to be a bit more structured, The Touch of Ithuriel’s Spear was an album that I found very interesting. Like old Beherit, what the band lacks in technical ability, they more than make up for in dark atmosphere.

In this unfortunate, post-Schuldiner existence, Arsis just might be the closest thing we have to Death. Before you soil your pantaloons in outrage, hear me out, there are a few undeniable parallels. The most obvious being that Arsis, for the most part, play the kind of super-technical Death Metal that Evil Chuck invented and refined throughout his all too brief career. Sure, Arsis has never penned a tune as classic as “Spirit Crusher,” “Symbolic,” “The Philosopher,” “Suicide Machine,” “Pull the Plug,” or every song on Scream Bloody Gore —it can be argued that their most memorable moment to date is actually a cover of Alice Cooper’s “Roses on White Lace”— and they lean far more on melody and blastbeats than Death ever needed to, but James Malone does have quite a bit in common with the legend. He’s a virtuoso guitarist plus frontman (not the easiest combo to pull off), he has that ultra-screechy vocal style, and he’s also the tyrannical driving force behind his band. Yes, one has to assume, given the endlessly revolving door of bandmates he’s burned through in 13 years, that Malone —like Chuck— is not the easiest guy to be in a band with. But the ends always justify the means, and up until 2010’s Hard Rock-obsessed stinker Starve for the Devil, the Arsis name has stood for a seal of quality in Tech-Death circles. With Unwelcome, Malone returns to that form nicely. These might be the leanest and meanest songs he’s written since breaking onto the scene in 2004 with the excellent A Celebration of Guilt debut. Sure, he throws a mid-album screwball with the head-scratching cover choice of Corey Hart’s “Sunglasses at Night” —it’s actually not as bad as it looks on paper— but the majority of full-length #5 is no laughing matter. Malone and newest second axeman Brandon Ellis achieve an infectious interplay akin to Shermann-Denner on steroids and Adderall. The two trade jagged Thrashy rhythms, arena-ready solos, and slick melodic layering like they’ve been shredding together far longer than a year. Meanwhile, new drummer Shawn Priest unleashes a blistering barrage of rapid-fire snare and double bass punishment unlike no other Arsis sticksman before him. If Malone can somehow manage to keep this lineup intact longer than a New York minute, the future looks bright for this exciting band once again.
Note: Do your best to track down the digipak edition. You get 2012’s Leper’s Caress EP as a bonus, as well as a blazing re-recorded version of ‘04 crowd-pleaser “The Face of My Innocence.” It’s a seamless fit with the new material, although it does make for a somewhat overstuffed serving of Arsis to stomach in one sitting.

With seven prior full-length albums and a handful of other releases (including a live LP) under their belt, I expected more from Sacred Steel. Album number eight, The Bloodshed Summoning, isn’t exactly a barnburner. The term “generic” seems to come up far too often when I have to describe this LP, and I really hate that I have to use it. Sacred Steel incorporated a lot of Thrash into their sound over the years and instead of distinguishing them further from the hordes of Power Metal bands out there, it made them even more bland. The vanilla Thrash riffs might go over better live, but on CD it doesn’t impress me. I seriously think that bands like Powermad, Redrum and Warfare D.C. had better recorded material. Those groups were obscure, to be sure, but their demo recordings and albums had one thing that Sacred Steel lacks: they remembered to kick ass. The music on The Bloodshed Summoning is flat-out boring and dull. And the vocals… Gerrit Mutz still hasn’t figured out the dynamics between Thrash and Power Metal. There is a time for growling and a time for melodic vocals. Knowing when to do one or the other is key to this style, and fucking it up is only forgivable on your debut album. This is album number eight and Gerrit botches things more than once. Between the unadventurous riffing and the poorly executed vocals, I couldn’t help but think that I was wasting my time listening to this LP. It doesn’t totally suck but it’s so “blah” that the disappointment you feel comes from hoping that things get better and then realizing that it isn’t going to happen.

My problem with Cauldron isn’t their Trad Metal-for-the-sake-of-Trad Metal existence. It isn’t their paper thin distortion or endless array of regurgitated Dokken and Angel Witch riffs. It isn’t their wholehearted embrace of every cheesy cliche the Hair Metal and Hard Rock movements ever dished out. It isn’t because they’re goofballs, genuinely or not. It also has nothing to do with them being from Canada, buddy. It isn’t even that their singer sounds like a young Weird Al Yankovic. What really rubs me the wrong way about Cauldron is that they’re only able to write one truly great song per album. Just as I was suckered into their debut LP (Chained to the Nite) by the catchier-than-syphilis single “Chained Up in Chains” —I told you they were fucking cheesy— only to find more filler than off-brand hot dogs, this album only has one real gem (“Nitebreaker”) to offer as well. It’s not as though the rest of the record isn’t catchy —catchy is about the only trick this dog knows— but it’s usually in-one-ear-and-out-the-other catchy. You see, these dudes are able to command multiple levels of catchiness, but seem to ration it in such a manner that only one song achieves Type A “Pour Some Sugar on Me” catchybetes. One can’t help but wonder, given their obsession with the old days, if this is intentional or not. I’d bet my bottom dollar these fellas have record collections fully loaded with shitty ’80s records that only have one good song. Maybe they simply can’t break character? Seriously though, just listen to the fucker. Feel your mind involuntarily wander through the ho-hum opening tandem of “End of Time” and “Born to Struggle,” only to wake up to “Nitebreaker“‘s infectious, big-league chorus and then drift off again for the remainder of the album. Songs like “Burning Fortune” and “Relentless Temptress” aren’t bad, but therein lies the problem. We get one “totally awesome” and a mega-fuckton of “not bad.” Actually… I take it back, there are two things I don’t like about Cauldron. Just the fact that I would even give this lightweight drivel a chance means I’m getting old. Young, extreme music-obsessed Jack would’ve literally taken a shit on this disc and lit it on fire before breaking out the sledgehammer. I’ve become desperate and easy in my lonely old age. Oh well, expect Cauldron’s greatest hits package in 2026 to be fucking amazing.

When I looked this band up on the internet, I expected them to sound like one of the many worshippers of Blasphemy. All of the signs were there: black and white artwork that was reminiscent of old Chris Moyen, band members with names like “Grave Desecration and Necrosodomy” and “Hellfire Commander of Eternal War and Pain,” a logo that looks like they stole the design from Shub Niggurath and a band photo that has the two members decked out in their monster spiked gauntlets. The only thing missing was the photo of one of them in a gasmask. Imagine my surprise when I started listening to this and it wasn’t Blasphemy worship at all! Instead, Tyrant Goatgaldrakona worships at the altar of Incantation. This is brutal Satanic Death Metal, not the “wall of sound” Black Grind assault that I was expecting. The music on Horns in the Dark could easily have been written by John McEntee and company. The main difference between Tyrant Goatgaldrakona and Incantation is the inclusion of the occasional Swedish inspired riffing. There were a couple times where I said, “Hey, that sounded like a Dismember riff” or “That sounded like something off of Clandestine.” The Swedish-inspired riffs gives Horns in the Dark slightly more melody than it would have had if these guys had gone for a straight Brutal Death Metal sound. It also gives them a bit more identity. If it hadn’t been for the odd Swedish riff, this would have been pretty much indistinguishable from Incantation. Being that this is their first full-length album (their only other release was the Sign of Moloch EP), I’m going to cut them some slack in the originality department. Though the members of Tyrant Goatgaldrakona have played in other bands prior to this, it takes a while to establish an identity and an individual sound. The music on Horns in the Dark is well played and it sounds great. The only thing lacking is a bit more originality. If they can come out from under the shadow of Incantation, this will definitely be a band to look out for. Right now, they’re good at what they’re doing, but they still sound too much like a clone.

Sincere. Misanthropic. Groundbreaking. Brilliant. Intense. Underrated. You could use a ton of complimentary adjectives to describe Shai Hulud. Prolific isn’t one of them. We’re talking about four full-lengths over an 18-year career. Still, as rare an occasion as LPs are from this band, it’s damn near impossible to remove them from my stereo once they finally do surface. When it comes to Reach Beyond the Sun, the wait was more than worth it. This is easily their best record since 2003’s landmark masterpiece That Within Blood Ill-Tempered (which I believe deserves Best Modern-Day Hardcore Album of All Time consideration). As is usually the case with these guys, a new record means a different vocalist, but this time around it’s a familiar set of lungs. Original Shai Hulud vocalist (not to mention guitarist for Pop-Punk kings New Found Glory) Chad Gilbert returns to the mic for the first time since 1997’s Hearts Once Nourished with Hope and Compassion. It’s only a temporary fix —the band is currently shopping for a full-time vocalist— but one that serves to rekindle the feeling of old… not that these guys have ever really changed. Gilbert also handles production duties, removing a little of the polish from 2009’s Misanthropy Pure in favor of a more live-sounding feel. If you’re unfamiliar with Shai Hulud (to suffer fools is to exist), I can’t even begin to describe what you’re missing. The Hardcore or Mathcore tags alone simply don’t do justice to the group’s forward-thinking, Progressive-tinged mastery of all things melodic, aggressive, and emotive. Nobody writes music like Matt Fox. It’s a delicate balance of technical and simple rarely achieved. No one communicates a pure hatred of mankind so eloquently, either, as Fox’s song titles usually delve deeper than the competition’s entire lyric sheet. For the initiated, you already know what you’re getting. A sense of urgency enveloped in cathartic calm. A perfected mix of hard-charging, pit-friendly rage and bittersweet melancholy. I was taking notes in preparation to list my favorite tracks when I realized I’d written every single song down! (It should be noted that I can never listen to heartfelt tearjerker “A Human Failing” just once.) As an extra-special treat, the album is littered with a slew of guest vocals and gang shouts, most notably from former Shai Hulud vocalists Damien Moyal, Geert van der Velde, and Matt Mazalli. They like to keep it in the family, and I’ll be keeping Reach Beyond the Sun in heavy rotation all year and then some.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m gonna need to vent a little here, so bear with me. You see, I thought I was getting a surprise new release from the ultra-brutal Maltese Death slammers known as Beheaded. You know… the well-known, well-respected, underground-beloved, kick-ass-to-the-max Beheaded that gave us the ridiculously good Ominous Bloodline album? The Beheaded that you’d have to be a complete poser douchebag not to be aware of? Yeah, that Beheaded. Turns out this is the Venezuelan Beheaded (est. 2012), and the two bands couldn’t be more diametrically opposed. Now, if you’re gonna call your stupid fucking band Beheaded, you’d better fucking bring it on the real Beheaded’s level if not harder. After all, I’ve got room in my heart for two Disgorges, two Hanging Gardens, two Covens, etc. This Beheaded isn’t even as good as the 79 other Beheadeds that came before the true Beheaded. A better name for this Beheaded would’ve been Clown Penis. As if the choice of moniker wasn’t a dead giveaway, there’s a high novice factor on Gates of Suffering. Total cookie-cutter Melodeath-for-beginners. Weak riffs, generic growls, lackluster drumming, exhausted themes, recycled melodies, pathetic solos… Here I was expecting a steak and I got an 18-year old sausage McMuffin that Ronald McDonald and Grimace took turns cumming on. I’m tempted to say the world doesn’t need a 14,346th band that sounds like At the Gates, but I just can’t give these guys the benefit of the doubt that they even know who At the Gates is. There’s probably a few shitty local bands that play the rape festivals near their village that sound like At the Gates, and they’re trying to sound like them. After listening to their laughable cover of “Defensive Personalities” —ahh yes, Spiritual Healing… the go-to album for Death covers— I’m not even 100% sold that they’ve heard Death. My guess is they were going to call themselves Death, and someone was kind enough to send them a link. Again, I could have forgiven the ignorance of these neophytes had this demo been worth a sloth’s piss, but this is just completely worthless, forgettable, lightweight, poorly-recorded slop from a band formed out of boredom that no one who’s been into Death Metal longer than an hour needs to hear. Now if you need me, I’ll be starting a Sludge/Powerviolence/Techno/Bluegrass band called Angelcorpse.

It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the staggering amount of NWOOSSDM bands crawling out of the woodwork these days. What started out as a few groups with Boss HM2 pedals paying a little well-deserved homage to the early ’90s Swedeath greats has turned into a nostalgia epidemic. It’s easy to lose track of all these new old-sounding bands, and it’s difficult not to become disinterested by their sonic sameness. But do not make the mistake of lumping Tormented into this cluster of also-rans. Sure, they’ve only been at it since 2008, with just two full-lengths, an EP, and a split 10-inch under their bulletbelts, but their rich pedigree holds far more clout than the average rehashers. In particular, I’m referring to Swedish scene workhorses Roberth Karlsson (bass) and Andreas “Dread” Axelsson (guitar/vocals). They’ve been involved with a few bands over the last couple decades that maybe you’ve heard of? Edge of Sanity? Marduk? Infestdead? Facebreaker? Any of these ringing a bell? Scar Symmetry? Total Terror? Pan-Thy-Monium? Devian? I could keep going, but I think you catch my drift by now. This is a new wave band with first wave credibility, and you can definitely hear it in the music. The sound they achieve is fantastically authentic to the period, because… well… they were there. Dread’s vocals are especially late-’80s raw, sounding even filthier than they did on Marduk’s legendary Dark Endless. The only thing wrong with Death Awaits is the same hindrance that plagued the band’s 2009 debut: only three great songs. Just as Rotten Death (by now I hope you’ve grasped their primary lyrical theme — eight career songs with “death” or “dead” in the title to this point) gave us “Vengeance from Beyond the Grave,” “Come Back from the Dead,” “Tomb of Corpses,” and not much else, Death Awaits opens with the unholy trinity of the title track, “Blood Orgy,” and “I.O.T.D.” (guess what the “D” stands for) and then rides autopilot the rest of the way. It’s not like the remaining six songs of either album are terrible, just not in the same anthemic league as the aforementioned gems. Tormented’s Nihilistic throwback appeal never wears off, but they don’t attain memorability with enough consistency to maintain “essential” status. Still, when their riffs and vocal patterns are firing on all cylinders, it’s something every self-respecting fan of Swedish Death Metal probably needs to hear.

This is yet another compilation album of all the Old Funeral recordings out there. This might be recommendable if it hadn’t been done four or five times already. Face it, the only reason anybody cares about Old Funeral is because Varg Vikernes (back when he was known by his birth name, Kristian Vikernes) was in this band. Varg, of course, gained fame as Count Grishnackh of Burzum. Other members included Abbath of Immortal and Jorn from Hades Almighty/ex-Immortal, all of whom had short stints in the band. Musically, Old Funeral can best be described as Thrash. It isn’t harsh or brutal enough to be Death Metal (though some might call their music that) and it certainly doesn’t sound like Black Metal. Their later stuff had some Black Metal and more Death Metal elements but they never strayed beyond Thrash most of the time. The musicianship on this compilation is very loose. Old Funeral never got beyond the demo/7-inch EP stage of their career and only existed for four or five years. All of the recordings here are from demo, rehearsal or live tapes except for the Devoured Carcass EP, which was on vinyl. The earliest material, from The Fart That Should Not Be demo (yes, that was really the title…), is very rough and shows the band at their formative stages. You can tell that they were a bunch of guys who liked to fuck around in the studio and played Metal for fun back in those days. The later material, most notably the Abduction of Limbs demo and the Devoured Carcass EP, shows more musical maturity and focus. The playing is still a bit sloppy in places but there was definitely more thought put into the music. The “rare and unreleased” material that would be the main selling point for this compilation is okay. Given that it is mostly rehearsal and live stuff, the sound quality isn’t the best. If you’re a hardcore fan of old Norwegian Black Metal and must have everything, this might have some value. For me, the appeal of Old Funeral ended after the first compilation, The Older Ones, that was released in 1999. Once I heard the main recordings (the Abduction of Limbs demo and Devoured Carcass), everything else was filler as far as I was concerned. If you don’t already have a version of this already, it’s interesting as a historical document more than it is a great musical release. It shows what some of the more notable members of the early Norwegian Black Metal scene were doing prior to becoming famous. For those looking for a lost legendary recording, you’re going to be disappointed.

Evil seed, injected / Demos freed, the calling / Demon Lord, master / Satan Spawn, the stack o’ demos!
Yes, it’s time once again for the dubious task of demo duty. The unenviable chore of trying to find an unsigned act worthy of more than two or three sentences. It’s never easy, but I must admit a band from Finland catches the eye and piques the interest far more than a band from Ballsweat, Arkansas. Especially when their 6-song offering is packaged in a sleek, all-pro digipak versus handwritten CD-R with Post-It note tracklist. That might be unfair, but… welcome to life. In addition to looking good, Predators Among Us is also graced with fantastic, big-league production quality, and the material suggests this quintet may not remain unsigned for long. Intro/track “The Ocean of Perdition” quickly unveils the influence of fellow countrymen Insomnium, as piano and acoustic guitar set the stage in atmospheric fashion. This leads into the best overall track, “They Play Dead.” Distress of Ruin waste no time showing the listener they have all the tools to create convincing and passionate melodic Death Metal. Energetic, Thrashy riffs, soaring melodies, good drumming, and a solid growler. But their ace in the hole might be the inclusion of highly impressive clean vocals. Many Melodeath groups don’t bust out the clean voice until their second or third full-length. These guys are going for it in their infancy stage. The singing here is a good balance — not too Power Metally, not too Radio Rocky. They really take the song next-level. “Deadly Nightshade,” “Bystander Effect,” and “Harbinger of Ravage” don’t stand out quite as much. Decent, well-performed cuts, but significantly lacking the punch and memorability of “They Play Dead.” Filler… it happens. Luckily, “Terminal Alteration” saves the day. Another heavy verse/clean chorus gem that ensures Predators Among Us won’t be slapped with the dreaded “one good song” tag. And hey, two out of six ain’t bad when it comes to demo duty. Especially when those two so powerfully display this fresh meat’s awesomeness capability. (Plus, the other four could potentially grow on me. Let’s not forget one of them is a serviceable introduction.) Ultimately, Distress of Ruin proves to be a pleasant surprise and undoubtedly a band to keep an ear on.