This is the fourth full-length from Crust Punk legends Tragedy, and it marks something of a new direction for the band -or it would, if they put out an album often enough to have a destination. A better way to describe it might be to say that the focus of this one is different. Darker Days Ahead showcases Tragedy’s mastery of brooding, ominous Crust, to a point that devotees of the ripping D-beat Punk on sophomore effort Vengeance might find disappointing. The production is clear and muscular, and Todd can still growl with the best of them (second vocalist Billy, of course, always sounds like a chain-smoking Muppet), but nearly all the tracks are content to trudge along at a healthy mid-tempo. In a lot of ways this is similar to Amebix, in that the structures are simple, generally with little variation beyond a couple of riffs, but try to create a distinct feel and space for each song. A few, such as opener “No Cemeteries Here” and the title track feature sparse synth parts in clear imitation of that venerable band; they compliment the bleak riffing so well that I actually wish they had used more. Others, like “Close at Hand,” have filthy, oppressive guitar parts that wouldn’t sound all that out of place in the right Black or Death Metal band. Standout track “Power Fades” channels early British Hardcore and Motorhead in a chorus shout-along that at first seems surprisingly uncharacteristic, but Tragedy manage to pull it off and it fits in well as a build-up to the final song.
The overall lack of dynamics, however, is the major flaw of this album. There are really only a few fast or slow parts, and while the songs don’t all sound the same, the fact remains that they’re all about the same tempo, about the whole time. This is counteracted in part by being rather short, so it isn’t long enough to drag on. But one of the best things about older Tragedy was that it would blend dark, D-beat Hardcore with heavier, more imposing Crust riffing. By focusing on the latter, and starting to show stronger influence from godfathers Amebix, Tragedy have crafted their most Metallic, and perhaps all-around darkest, album to date; but in abandoning the D-beat have left behind a big part of what made them genre favorites.
It’s unlikely that most fans will prefer this to the much-beloved self-titled LP (still my personal favorite) or the aforementioned Vengeance, and the uniform speed is a clear hindrance. But the apocalyptic atmosphere and powerful riffing keep Darker Days Ahead above water, and overall this is a solid effort that places Tragedy among the growing camp of the Crust heavyweights drifting in a more Metallic direction (such as Wolfbrigade and Hellshock). That’s a good thing -assuming that they put out another album in four or five years.
[We would like to thank OnlyInDeath for this excellent guest review. -Editor]

This Finnish duo play some of the purest Death/Doom I’ve ever had the pleasure of reveling in, and quite frankly I’m ashamed to admit that Effigies of Evil —their debut for Relapse and third album overall— is my first time hearing them. Achieving a frighteningly perfect balance of crawling, colossal Doom and slow to mid-paced Old School Death Metal, the band rely on little more than gut-wrenching heaviness, dismal melodic sensibility, the occasional NWOBHM guitar solo, and the inhumanly brutal low roar of Lasse Pyykko to create a chilling morbid aesthetic that swallows the listener whole. Imagine the first Paradise Lost album on HGH with Dave Rotten on vocals and you’ll be on the right track. The production is immense and crystalline, yet it doesn’t detract from a crushing guitar tone that is part-Sunlight worship, part-Incantation worship, and part-tow truck/cement mixer collision. Pyykko’s earthquake-like vocal pitch makes it a bit difficult to decipher what’s going on lyrically, but judging by their cover art and interviews I’ve read, it’s safe to assume it’s all Tombs of the Blind Dead movie series and EC Comics-inspired good fun. And, as if I weren’t already enjoying the band’s sprawling array of filthy drones, bottomless grooves, breakneck hooks and melodic despondency enough, they also have the decency to sample Vincent Price. God damn, dudes! Seriously, a Vincent Price sample alone is worth 7 points. Not to mention all this power and genius from a two-piece no less! This bestial, misery-drenched assault is the perfect slow-motion soundtrack to a zombie apocalypse, and I simply can’t recommend it enough. If you need me, I’ll be desperately trying to hunt down every iota of the Hooded Menace back catalog. Better late than never.
Favorites: “Curses Scribed in Gore,” “Crumbling Insanity,” “Evoken Vulgarity,” and the title track.

When the press release that accompanies an album tells me to unlearn everything I know about Metal, I usually find that what the band really wants me to do is to assume that they are Metal in the first place. In this case, Hexen wants me to assume that they’re Thrash. This is actually Progressive Thrash, which is to say that it falls loosely into the Thrash category, but there is so much navel-gazing technicality that it fails to kick enough ass. It is possible to be technical and still kick plenty of ass. Peace Sells… by Megadeth, for example, was technical as hell and still gave me plenty of neck damage [That was a fast quarter-century! -Editor]. Hexen doesn’t do that. They get so caught up on the whole “We want people to know how well we can play our instruments” thing that they forget that good Thrash kicks ass. Great Thrash, like the legendary bands (Metallica, Exodus, Slayer, Megadeth, Destruction, Sodom, etc.), gives you life-altering beat-downs that you compare all other Thrash bands to. If I judge Hexen by that standard, they’re fourth-tier at best. They’re fighting with Epidemic, Wrekking Machine and The Organization for space in my collection. They’re not even up there with lower tier bands like Laaz Rockit or Defiance when it comes to kicking ass. Maybe that’s why they want me to unlearn what I know about Metal. If I judge them by “I’ve been listening to Thrash since the early ’80s and I live in San Francisco, the place that made Thrash famous” standards, of course they’re going to come up short.

These guys have been on one hell of a tear since signing to Victory in 2010. By my count, The Time of Great Purification makes three albums in just shy of three years. What’s remarkable about this run is all the lineup changes they’ve endured. This band has had more singers than Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, and Van Gaylen combined! Well… maybe not that many, but it’s been a few. Luckily newest frontman Jonathan Huber (ex-I Declare War) appears here to stay, but this release does mark the departure of founding guitarist Tim Tiszczenko, leaving drummer Dave Astor (ex-Cattle Decapitation) as the sole original member. Rather than seeking a replacement, they’ve decided to forge on as a quartet. Fortunately guitarist Kevin Schwartz has more riffs and solos than Utah has Mormons, as he takes over as Astor’s writing/arrangement partner. Speaking of Astor, dude’s a fucking machine! His skill level reaches its apex on Purification, which boasts another immaculate production job via Daniel Castleman at Lambesis Studios. The group scourge through a half-hour of relentlessly punishing Death Metal like Bruce Lee used to take out bad guy henchmen. Huber’s inhumanly guttural growl and beastly pig grunts may not be for everyone (and by everyone I mean queers), but they’re most certainly for me. Don’t think of it as a voice, but as another instrument of torture through which the brutality is inflicted. Speaking of brutal, who wants pit riffs? Plenty here for everyone, but proceed with caution, as the monsters found on “Corporate Harvest,” “Remnants of Freedom,” and “A Bleak Future” may provoke bodily movement that causes permanent spinal damage. Overall, I think the band sounds tighter as a four-piece, although it may just be their individual growth as musicians. If there’s anything to complain about, it’s the lack of true standout cuts, yet the album as a whole has no weak spots whatsoever. Much of that may be due to the pace — 13 quick songs make for a quick record that sadly flies by before you know it. Still, Pathology just might be the best actual songwriters in the ultra-brutal market today. And they’re only getting better.

It’s somewhat of an obstacle for any music critic when they encounter a band that simply refuses to change. Although when it comes to North Carolina’s Daylight Dies, I most certainly am not complaining. It’s just that over the course of their solid 12-year recording career, chances are I’ve already said all there is to say about them. Still, perseverance, consistency, and songwriting of the utmost quality ought to be worth a lot more than they are. After all, these sorrowful Death/Doom tradesmen have been proprietors of the mighty Brave Murder Day/Sounds of Decay approach longer than Katatonia at this point, and have carved their own truly masterful niche with it. Indeed, something has to be said for knowing what you’re going to get, and frankly, when it comes to dark, depressing Metal, I for one am not seeking Cracker Jack prize appeal. Album opener “Infidel” wastes no time letting all the hope out of the room with those familiar downcast riffs, dejected melodies, and a starkly soul-crushing chorus. While the Daylight Dies formula remains unmolested by time and passing trends, the production and musicianship have been infinitely refined, and one other difference worth noting is the more prominent use of bassist Egan O’Rourke’s clean vocals. Introduced on 2005’s Dismantling Devotion, the band has leaned on his contributions increasingly with each release. On A Frail Becoming, his soft croon sounds significantly honed and more professional than ever. He brings a subtle dynamic that, when juxtaposed with the harsh bellow of Nathan Ellis, creates instant standout tracks out of “Sunset,” “A Final Vestige,” and “Ghosting.” Meanwhile, the intro/outro riff of “Hold on to Nothing” is a signal for all life on Earth to cease. Even this song’s guitar solos bear mournful fruit. Surrounded by these heavyweight highlights, “The Pale Approach,” “Dreaming of Breathing,” and epic closer “An Heir to Emptiness” almost feel like filler by contrast. But that’s only in the context of this excellent LP. Place any one of them on a compilation next to new material by The Devin Townsend Project, Ihsahn, or Vision of Disorder and they’ll seem like the most meaningful songs ever recorded. This would be a great record to gas yourself in the garage to, and ironically, albums like this are one of the few reasons I haven’t (yet).

Larvae is from Oakland, California and the members have all been around the local Metal scene for a while. The band contains members of Kuru and Elk, and unlike their other bands, Larvae is Doom/Death Metal with an emphasis on the Death Metal side. The music is generally slower, though the last track, “Cold Dead Face,” is fast and aggressive. The band’s attempts at Doom are strangely lacking in heaviness. It may be the production or the fact that Larvae doesn’t sound very down-tuned, but they aren’t nearly as crushingly heavy as I had hoped that they would be. Personally, when I hear of an East Bay Doom/Death band, I think of Asunder. They were brutal as fuck, intensely heavy and in possession of some of the darkest atmospheres this side of My Dying Bride. That’s my standard for Bay Area Doom/Death Metal. It’s a high one, but I’m fairly forgiving when it comes to demo recordings and debut albums these days. Larvae sounds as if a Death Metal band was playing at half-speed while being recorded by a guy that only knew how to do Necro Black Metal. This definitely needs more bass. Death Metal, and Doom/Death in particular, needs to be brutal by default. Having a lightweight production defeats the purpose. The songs themselves are fairly well executed. The speed varies from ploddingly slow to fast and furious. This usually changes within one song, going from slow to fast to slow again. The riffs and song structures flow reasonably well, seamlessly going from fast to slow and back again without any jarring or transition problems. With a competent studio engineer and a heavier sound, these guys could be a force to be reckoned with.

Wow, it has been a long time since I’ve heard a band so unashamedly go for the early Godflesh sound. I don’t think I’ve heard anyone wear Streetcleaner so blatantly on their sleeves since the early days of Pitch Shifter. This is my first time hearing The Amenta, and this single/EP may or may not be the best place to start. While it’s hard to gauge a band definitively on such a small —and ultimately varied— sample size, this recording has successfully piqued an interest formerly non-existent. It also leaves me with more questions than answers. The title track takes the dense, mechanical vibe of old Godflesh to more modern heights by infusing a stellar, immaculate production. If you’ve ever wondered what Streetcleaner would sound like had it been recorded by Peter Tagtgren at The Abyss, here you go. Whatever verdict one might reach on this band based on their lack of originality would at least have to acknowledge the gigantic sound quality they achieve. The guitars sound like an excavating crew demolishing your backyard, while the minimalist beats hit so hard you can feel them in your stomach. Just to eliminate any possible doubt as to where they’re coming from, up next is a spot-on cover of “Christbait Rising.” One flaw might be the vocals/vocal delivery. A decent-but-unremarkable raspy snarl of the Blackened Melodeath variety that almost sounds too lively atop these oppressive, cheerless dirges. Up next are two live cuts —”Sekem” and “Vermin”— and here’s where shit gets weird. The band sounds radically different in the live setting, like some speedy modern Thrash act with far more traditional structures, Death Metal drumming, and only a slight Industrial tinge. It’s a night and day contrast next to the studio material. To further confuse matters, the EP closes with a remix of “V01D” that plays like a Techno jam with the aforementioned Black/Death vocals. It’s fairly disposable, but what bonus remix hasn’t been? So, basically we have five songs that feel like three different bands. Won’t the real The Amenta please stand up? Whatever the case, I definitely dig the Streetcleaner-aping version of the group most. Quite possibly a sound so old it’s fresh again.

With two of Ereb Altor’s members also in a Doom band called Isole, it’s no surprise that there are Doom elements on this album. In fact, the best parts here are the Doom elements. There’s an abundance of atmosphere on Gastrike and I’m a sucker for that sort of thing. The downside of Ereb Altor’s music is that while it’s good, it sounds like Viking-era Bathory. Quorthon did all of this two decades or more ago with Hammerheart and Blood on Ice. Boss may want to go check on his archives of Quorthon’s music to see if some of it hasn’t been stolen because a lot of the sound effects and the “Viking choir” are suspiciously familiar. Still, if people held sounding like Bathory against every band that did something that Quorthon did first, the Black Metal scene of today would look vastly different and there would probably be no Viking or Folk Metal at all. The resemblance to Viking-era Bathory may be abundantly evident, but at least Ereb Altor is able to inject some of their own identity into this. The speedier tracks tend to be the most generic sounding. Where they truly differentiate themselves is in the slower stuff. As I said earlier, the Doom elements are what shine here. When these guys get heavy, this album starts rocking. Sadly, they don’t get heavy as often as I would have liked. These guys know how to do Doom well, but by keeping with standard conventions on Viking Metal, they’re really not playing to their strengths. This is a competently executed album with good sound and good songs. If you like Viking Metal, you’ll like Gastrike, which is on the cusp of being great. If they can play more to their strengths and spend less time sticking to conventions, their next album will be a fucking monster.

This split 7-inch features a very apropos pairing of two scene giants in steadfast decline. Despite a rabid fanbase of loyal diehards who would vehemently disagree, Converge haven’t put out a truly great record since 2001’s Jane Doe. Meanwhile, Grindcore legends Napalm Death have been methodically releasing the same solid-but-forgettable album for too many moons to count (save for this year’s Utiliatarian which was downright awkward). Still, a part of me wants to get excited about this team-up. Perhaps this little piece of wax will ignite the return to glory for both of these hard-working, boundary-pushing bands? No. No it won’t. It’s just a stopgap between stopgaps. Each band offers two tracks, Hardcore stalwarts Converge opening with 50 seconds of absolutely meaningless noise (“No Light Escapes”). This song would be filler on their all-filler anthology box set. Their cover of Entombed’s “Wolverine Blues” is at least interesting. Sure they butcher the song by injecting their own tight-sphinctered, spastic tension into it, robbing the original’s free-and-easy Death ‘n’ Roll bravado, but it is fun to listen to the bevy of guest vocalists —Aaron Turner (ex-Isis), Tompa Lindberg, Kevin Baker (The Hope Conspiracy/All Pigs Must Die), and Brian Izzi (Trap Them)— trade lines on the classic. I do have to wonder how many Converge scenesters who adore the band solely for Jacob Bannon’s totally bitchin’ neck tattoo will know/give a fuck who Entombed is. As for Napalm Death’s half… god damn! Somebody make Barney some tea. At least get him a throat lozenge or something. His voice is done. Finito. Muerte. He and the band sound like a shell of their former selves, and the EP’s intentionally lo-fi production isn’t helping. Their two cuts are as memorable as random binary code. The binary code is not red… please stop the code. Both of these innovative bands will always be well-respected and beloved by many an underground minion, and deservedly so. But recent efforts as well as this pointless split suggest that their respective primes faded into the rearview long ago. Neck tattoos notwithstanding.

I’ve followed Marduk for almost as long as they’ve been around. My first exposure to them was with Dark Endless and I’ve pretty much heard everything they’ve ever released. The evolution of Marduk from the blackened Death Metal of Dark Endless to the blisteringly fast and chaotic sounds of Panzer Division Marduk to the varied speeds but still dark and evil style of today has encompassed twenty odd years. Throughout that time, Marduk has been consistently pumping out extreme music. The only variation in their musical quality was in the production department. Some of their old stuff, particularly Opus Nocturne, was marred by among the most horrid production ever. Serpent Sermon, their latest release, is definitely a mixed bag of songs - and I mean that in a good way. While each one is different, they all sound like Marduk. They go from fast and furious to slow and heavy, sometimes in the same track. The songs that I like the most were slower and heavier. I’m a sucker for atmosphere and those are the ones that stood out as the darkest and most evil sounding tracks on the album. My favorite has to be the “closer,” “World of Blades.” I use the word “closer” in quotes because there is a bonus track called “Coram Satanae” that comes after it on the limited edition media book version. “Coram Satanae” has kind of strange air to it. It has a riff in it that is prominent in the beginning and near the end that I could swear that I’ve heard before on a Graveland album. I don’t know if that was intentionally done to sound like Slavic Folk or not (or I’ve been listening to far too much Graveland to have noticed it) but it stuck out to me. The song itself brings a slightly disruptive element with it because it comes in after the closer track and takes away from the “finality” that “World of Blades” brings. I’m not going to deduct any points for this because unless you pony up for the special edition, this track won’t even be on the version you get. Even with “Coram Satanae,” Serpent Sermon is a very solid and enjoyable album. If you’re a fan of Marduk, you’ll find something on here that you’ll like.

This Finnish OSDM crew just can’t catch a break! Despite writing some of the catchiest Death Metal since the Tardy brothers started jamming, this group has toiled in obscurity for a decade. Since all major Metal critics have a deeply-embedded subconscious fantasy of giving dual handjobs to Joe Perry and Steve Vai while blowing Richie Sambora and being sodomized by Slash, none of them have the tolerance for a band so brutally basic they make Six Feet Under sound like Wormed. Okay, maybe Torture Killer aren’t that simple, but they did start out as a 6FU cover band. And speaking of which, try to imagine getting megastar frontman Chris Barnes —vocalist for not one but two of the best-selling Death Metal bands ever— to do vocals for your band’s whole album… and nobody bats an eyelash. I’m talking last song ends, cue chirping crickets. It has been a revolving door of vocalists for these guys since day one. Their 2003 debut, Maggots to Devour, featured Matti Liuke. Possibly their best overall growler, basic and brutal just like the tunes. Barnes did the 2006 follow-up Swarm, then for 2009’s Sewers —a record that saw a little suicidal melody introduced to the fold— they re-recruited Juri Sallinen (who also sang on the essential ‘05 split with Sotajumala). Sallinen did a more than serviceable job, but probably, much like Liuke, had to leave to find better-paying work (like dancing with a sign in front of a Little Caesars and/or cash-for-gold establishment). Now with this 3-song EP, we have another new frontman: Pessi Haltsonen of Chainsaw Dismemberment fame. Hate to say it, but I’m not really feeling Haltsonen or I Chose Death all that much. The riffs are still thankfully no-frills, but come off a bit Thrashier than usual. Still headbangable, just less heavy, less heart, no real punch, and those melodies are gone. Pessi’s relatively thin, gargly roar seems somewhat punchless as well, although he and the band do step it up considerably on the title track, which easily comes closest to hinting at past greatness. The bottom line is that music this blunt has to be instantly likable, and I Chose Death feels more like an entry-level demo phase then an offering from 10-year vets. Perhaps a new full-length, and possibly yet another new vocalist, will yield better results. I certainly don’t want Torture Killer to go out like this.

Fearless hails from Shanghai, China, which is a first for me. I’ve heard bands from Hong Kong and Taiwan, but getting a chance to hear one from mainland China is rare. Lord of Twilight is a strange beast because it covers several different areas of Metal. The most predominant form on display is Power Metal. Though there are prominent Black and Melodic Death Metal influences, the guitar playing is pure Power Metal. Lord of Twilight is both melodic and technical. Seriously, these guys know how to shred and shred they do. I’m not a huge fan of virtuoso guitar playing (mostly because it tends to degenerate into guitar wankery), but the musicianship here is exceptional. The incorporation of atmospheric keyboard playing and Asian musical structures is also handled very well. Much like Chthonic did on Takasago Army, the keyboards and Asian musical elements are seamlessly incorporated into their songs. Some bands might tack these things on to give their songs identity, but it never feels that way on Lord of Twilight. The riffing is always melodic and even though the songs are complex, everything flows very well. Every track on this album had my head banging, and by the time the final one, “Darkness Swallowed,” was over, I was actually disappointed that there wasn’t another song. If there’s a flaw in this, it’s in the lack of diversity in the vocal style. The rest of the music is dynamic and it goes all over the place. The vocals, though, remain firmly entrenched in the raspy Black Metal style. It isn’t a serious detraction, but it does keep this album from being absolutely awesome. Hopefully, Lord of Twilight will get this group some more exposure, because I think it is well deserved. Fearless is definitely a band that I recommend.

Back in 2010, Indiana’s The Contortionist really, really wanted to be the thinking man’s Acacia Strain. But that was two years —nearly four generations— ago. To put it in perspective, think of what smart phone you were using back then. OMG! Now you can relate to your grandparents’ walking-10-miles-to-school-uphill-in-8-feet-of snow stories. Facebook didn’t even have Timeline back then! FML! How did we survive? So, considering how much this quintet has matured as a band in that relative lifetime (and seeing as how Metalcore is soo 2010), on album number two, The Contortionist really, really wants to be Between the Buried and Me. I can’t hold it against them. Any Indiana resident with an IQ above 60 (so, approximately 20-35 people) wants to be someone/anyone, somewhere/anywhere, something/anything else. The difference is most of us don’t get record deals. (Skeletonwitch doesn’t count. I said over 60.) I’ll give these young Prog Metallers props, they have the tools and talent to reach whatever that week’s goal is. Album opener “Holomovement” begins this metaphysics course with expansive melodic flourishes, spacious noodling, and a brief burst of brutal fury. Above all, I think they will succeed simply because Jonathan Carpenter’s voice is all-pro. He has the dreamy clean singing to effectively carry the meandering space travel, and the bestial roar to accentuate the heavy parts. Intrinsic’s biggest flaw is that it never seems to take off, and doesn’t much care to. Beauty and beast alternate sporadically, leaving the album to wander aimlessly for what feels like an extraordinarily long 45 minutes. When one delves so deeply into the psyche, one should not forget to bring the hooks. As impressive as randomly disjointed moments of this album sound, it ultimately feels like a band lost in transition. My guess would be, next stop: Dream Theater.

With a name like Wargoatcult, it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to have a good idea what kind of music this band plays. If you guessed Black Metal in the Blasphemy style, you’re correct. If you’re expecting something unique and adventurous, you’re going to be disappointed. Pentaprotokhaos is by the books Blasphemy worship, but not in the good way. This may be album number two (there is also a veritable sea of splits and demo recordings by this band as well) but Cum Mortuis, the sole member of Wargoatcult, really needs to work on his songwriting. Everything literally sounds the same. It may have a lot to do with the fact that the drumming consists of Cum Mortuis constantly riding the snare, which sounds like a trashcan lid. The guitars are akin to someone revving a chainsaw, with little variation between songs. Seriously, this whole album could be nine different versions of the same track. I’m not expecting Dream Theater level songwriting, but if this is all we’re going to get, you really only need one EP to get the full Wargoatcult experience. To say that this band is one-dimensional is a vast overstatement.

For those unfamiliar with this oddly-named act (the name means “October” in ye Olde English), remove the more introspective moments from Fen’s bleak, Agalloch-inspired attack and replace with a melodic mastery in league with Dissection and you’ll slightly begin to grasp the majestic genius of the UK’s most valuable Black Metal export since the early days of Cradle of Filth. But it doesn’t seem fair to go at Winterfylleth with comparisons when they’re capable of casting a soundspell that has no equal. The blasting is ferocious, mechanical, perfect, yet nowhere near overproduced. Almost subtle, this blinding speed that somehow calms. The band has only one purpose when it comes to the guitars: create melody to astonishing effect that pleases the omnipotent Goddess Negativity. However, these lads do Suicidal with balls. Their expert precision and rhythmic command of any tempo ensures the intensity and professionalism often lacking in bands of the Depressive ilk. The vocals are pure, torn Black Metal throat, recorded and placed in the mix so flawlessly they double as a soothing whisper. Aggression with poignancy, fury with refrain. And I did not mean to imply that their sound is without moments of introspection. They occasionally pause for the rare treat of Folkish elements woven into the Black Metal aesthetic without the end result sounding like music created by carnies. This quartet doesn’t know how to sound contrived, fake, or happy. It just isn’t in their blood. Only being just barely overshadowed by the sheer magnificence of its predecessor —2010’s masterpiece The Mercian Sphere— prevents The Threnody of Triumph from a perfect score. Hunt down all that bears this band’s difficult-to-enunciate name. Unlike most decisions in life, you won’t regret it.

This band was one of the two standouts on the first day of Tidal Wave 2012. Dreaming Dead and Huntress really kicked some serious ass that day. I actually purchased a copy of this album prior to seeing them on the recommendation of Leon Del Muerte (Exhumed/Murder Construct/ex-Impaled), who said that they were really good. Considering his lineage in brutal music, I consider that to be a pretty golden recommendation. Once I saw them play, I had high expectations for Midnightmares. If they were able to capture half of the intensity and brutality of their live set on this CD, I was going to need to see a doctor to have the disks in my neck repaired. I was rather surprised that this album was more melodic and technical sounding compared to their live set. When they shred, they do it like an industrial-strength mulcher. When things get more technical, the band tends to lose momentum. Personally, I wished that they would eschew some of the technicality for more mayhem. When I listen to Death Metal, I want it to kick my ass and the technical aspects tend to detract from the ass kicking. It’s the reason I don’t like bands like Cynic or Pestilence. They may be Death Metal, but their music is overly complicated and lacking in brutality. Dreaming Dead isn’t in that range yet, but the same “overcomplicated” songwriting applies. This band can go two directions: they could become more technical or more brutal. If they get more technical, I can see this turning into one of those Progressive Death Metal bands that tries to appeal to the worshippers of Dream Theater, which is definitely something I hope they don’t do. If they get more brutal, have some technicality but more ass kicking, then their next release will make surgeons that specialize in repairing neck injuries rich for years to come.

So this is it, eh? This is the greatest thing since sliced bread? If you read the popular Metal mags (and by popular I mean some shit you can get at a Barnes & Noble), which I do because I enjoy reading things I disagree with for some masochistic reason, you’re aware that the vast majority of critics speak of Baroness with the same type of reverence usually reserved for The Beatles or Elvis Presley. Just the end-all, be-all of music as we know it. I finally get the chance —albeit in the form of this somewhat overbearing double-LP— to see what the fuck the big deal is. After nearly two months of rotational play, I’m still waiting on the answer. This ain’t shit! And it’s not because the quartet’s Alternative/Pop/’70s Rock hybrid is softer than a wet baby’s ass dipped in molasses and down feathers. Not everything needs to be brutal. I enjoy a wide variety of musical styles, Metal just happens to be the best. It’s that they aren’t all that good at it. As musicians, they are adept at crafting a catchy, radio-ready tune with big hooks and melodic sharpness, but when they rock, they don’t rock hard enough. When they go the pretty, shimmering, heartfelt route, it’s enjoyable but nothing I haven’t already heard done a thousand times better by the likes of Hopesfall, Theta, Jets to Brazil, The Appleseed Cast, the list is endless. Then when they take the brown acid, they lose me altogether. But this is really all irrelevant. The main reason Baroness fails is because John Baizley isn’t that good of a singer. He has his moments —I like the harmonies on “Twinkler” and “Collapse,” they should go for a Bergtatt Ulver thing instead— but he ultimately lacks the smoothness and charisma that could take the band next-level (see “Little Things” and “Cocainium”). He ruins the otherwise decent choruses of “Take My Bones Away” and “March to the Sea” with an almost tone-deaf awkwardness. So, apparently the answer to that sliced bread question: tenth-rate Open Hand.

Another day, another download-only stopgap EP. I’m going to avoid a rant on why this concept is gayer than Elton John tossing Pedro from The Real World’s dead salad because I don’t give that much of a fuck about Shining. Their brand of Depressive Black Metal has never been anywhere near depressing enough for yours truly, and the more interviews with Niklas Kvarforth I read, the more he seems like Sweden’s answer to The Situation. The only reason I’m acknowledging this all-covers EP is because they do a Katatonia song. Covering a Katatonia tune is a double-edged sword. Sure it shows you have impeccable taste, but there’s no way anyone’s going to match, let alone improve, the work of the melancholy masters. In the case of Shining, it lets me know that, while inept at creating it, they’re at least aware of how suicidal music is supposed to sound. At the same time, Kvarforth has simply embarrassed himself by trying to walk a mile in Jonas Renkse’s big boy shoes. Perhaps the opening anthem “For My Demons” from 1999’s classic Tonight’s Decision wasn’t the wisest choice. This was the second Katatonia full-length to feature all-clean vocals, and even though Renkse was still finding himself as a singer at the time, he was already on a level Kvarforth will never see. Musically, the band does an adequate job, but the end result is nonessential nevertheless. The other three covers are of bands I’ve never heard (Kent, Imperiet, Poets of the Fall), so I’m unable to compare them to the originals, but it’s all somewhat similar-sounding in a Folkish, Poppy way. The Kent and Imperiet selections are both cleanly sung in Scandinavian which sounds really fucking goofy to me. Not sure if that’s due to Kvarforth’s minor league delivery —just listen to him stumble through that Psychedelic Furs attempt on “Kung Av Jidder”— or me being a stupid American, but either way I’m not on board. Grading on the Shining-cover curve, I’m guessing that Poets of the Fall might be pretty good. If this EP has done anything, it’s made me want to check them out. As an appetizer for a forthcoming Shining LP… lots of albums not gonna get bought.

Death Metal live albums are something of an anomaly. Death Metal is one of, if not the most exhilarating styles of music to witness in the live setting. Or at least I fondly remember that being the case, as in my old age I can’t seem to tolerate a gathering of more than five people. Whether it be of the melodic, technical, brutal, or even ultra-brutal variety, it’s tough to beat a good Death Metal show. That said, live albums within the genre tend to be as exciting as watching dustmites fuck. By some white wizardry, the experience does not translate well on record. Does, “hey man, check it out, new album by… oh wait… never mind, it’s live,” sound familiar? Of course there’s always exceptions. Deicide’s When Satan Lives and Unleashed’s Eastern Blood immediately spring to mind. Then again, I probably haven’t dusted those off in a decade or so. Speaking of forgotten gems, how long has it been since you thought about Morgoth? Sure, I wore out my Odium cassette in the ’90s, but a relative lifetime of inactivity since slightly raises the question of the need for a live album now. Especially considering this was a reunion gig featuring a lineup that only boasted two original members. Recorded last October in their native Germany at the Ways of Darkness festival, these 15 cuts are pooled mostly from the first two EPs and 1991’s classic Cursed LP (hence the title). Sadly, despite the best efforts of a Dan Swano mix job, this particular performance is sorely substandard, which only adds to the irrelevancy of the total package. Marc Grewe’s voice sounds terrible. I mean downright awful. Just listening to his battle-worn throat crack and blister right off the bat on “Body Count” fills me with sympathy for all in attendance who still had another hour to suffer through. Hats off to Mr. Grewe for the effort, but it sounds as if time has caught up to him with a vengeance. Morgoth will eternally hold a place in most Death Metal lifers’ hearts as the best Swedeath band from Germany during their brief reign, but —officially defunct or not— Cursed to Live plays like a posthumous release if ever I’ve heard one.

This is the third full-length album from Carach Angren, the follow-up to 2010’s Death Came Through a Phantom Ship (however, there were three EPs between this album and the last). Though this band is described as Black Metal, there is very little that is Satanic about them. The lyrical focus of this album and most of their previous output has been more horror based. Their lyrics are like reading a book of old ghost stories (or maybe reading the lyrics to an old King Diamond album, which is kind of the same thing). Musically, this is very much comparable to listening to Cradle of Filth, but without Dani Filth’s high pitched wailing. The Gothic atmosphere is very strong throughout these nine songs. The best way to describe this would be to call it a dramatic reading with musical accompaniment. I’ll give Carach Angren credit for surprising me. When I saw the cover art, I was expecting this to be a clone of Cradle of Filth with a lot of whiny Goth lyrics. Though they do sound a lot like CoF, they have all of the good qualities and very little of the parts that most people detest. If there is one flaw in their product, it is in the vocal delivery. As a dramatic reading, this works. The vocalist’s style is brutal but understandable. You can follow along with most of the action even if you don’t have a lyric sheet or access to the internet. But the vocals don’t flow as well as they should with the songs. There isn’t any melody or attempts at “singing.” This is a relatively minor flaw, though. If you bother to listen to the vocals, you almost automatically start thinking of this as a dramatic reading because you can tell that there is a story in there. For a jaded Metalhead like me, finding something like this makes being a music critic worthwhile. Even though 80% of the stuff in my review queue is absolute crap, the hidden gems are worth their weight in gold. Where the Corpses Sink Forever is one of those gems. It isn’t flawless, but it’s pretty damn close.