Clocking in at nearly three hours, this may be the very definition of “too much of a good thing.” The concert is actually spread across two DVDs, with, for reasons unknown to me, the entirety of the band’s 2001 Blackwater Park performed live (plus an interview) on disc one, and a more traditional live set comprised of one song each from the rest of Opeth’s albums, in chronological order no less (plus a documentary) on disc two. And then, at least with some versions, you also get just the audio on three CDs! The video (16:9 anamorphic widescreen, of course) and audio (5.1 Surround Sound) are absolutely flawless. I’d guess that this was recorded in HD, and Roadrunner will double-dip us with an eventual Blu-ray release at some point, the bastards. Still, this is an amazing document of exactly how impressive Opeth is live. The band’s complex blending of Death Metal with their heavy Prog influences seems as if it should be more difficult to pull off live, but appears effortless here, which is nothing short of stunning considering the endurance necessary for such a long set (though there is an intermission after the end of the Blackwater Park songs). In Live Concert could be the one time that a live album isn’t strictly for existing fans only.

This is Atheist’s first studio album since 1993’s Elements, and although I do miss Tony Choy’s twisted bass lines, Jupiter is every bit as complex and musically mind-numbing as I expected after such a long wait. And that’s the problem. This Thrashy, Jazzy Death Metal evokes later-era Death, both musically and vocally, although there is something of a Cronos undercurrent to main-man Kelly Shaefer’s raspy delivery. I know that Atheist has always been about writing music so complex that few other humans could actually play it, but consider what all is sacrificed on that altar. These guys don’t have to prove how talented they are - we know already! The best songs on here are oddly right in the middle of the tracklist: “Live and Live Again,” with it’s Deicide-inspired chorus riff and vocal pattern; and the cut that follows it, “Faux King Christ,” which somewhat reminds me of The Crown. Mixing in a few more riffs I can remember once the music stops and I’m no longer sitting here in awe of this impressive display of technical ability, and a somewhat tweaked production would really go a long way next time.

I really wanted to like this, the return of the aged masters of Death Metal. There are times when the music and vocals converge into something worthy of the legacy of Autopsy, but I’m sorry to say that it’s not often. For the most part, this is a mess, often with 666 vocal styles crammed on top of under-distorted guitars and too-sparse drumming. The production I almost get, but the songwriting and vocals I really don’t comprehend at all. Confusion and disappointment swirled through my mind on a continuous loop while listening to this EP, only to be replaced, upon its completion, with the realization that the best thing about The Tomb Within is the absolutely stunning cover art.

What the fuck is this?!? Oh, man… where to even start? Okay, many years ago, when Rob Halford finally came out as being gay, I think that most of us said, “Yeah, no kidding. So what?” and when right back to listening to Painkiller or whatever. (Although the revelation, such as it was, did put a potential new spin on some of Rob’s lyrics.) When he later came out as a Jesus freak, I was disappointed to say the least, but tried to ignore it, hoping that he’d regain his senses. Last year’s Xmas album, Winter Songs, was a sad reminder, although the CD did melt into an interestingly shaped blob. And now, much to my dismay, Halford has come out yet again - this time as a NASCAR fan. Yes, fellow defenders of the Metal faith, Rob Halford has apparently overdosed on Vagisil. I am sorry to report that the song “Made of Metal” is about the uneducated redneck national pastime of driving around in a circle, turning only to the left (while somehow keeping their politics always so far to the right). What I had hoped was a sick joke is all too nauseatingly real. There have been several reviews over these many years wherein I have cried out for a vocal eliminator, but I am not tempted to do that now, as this band is almost literally nothing without the once-and-hopefully-future-Metal-God’s voice. But even his vocals here are generally weak, almost as if he just didn’t give a shit most of the time. That may be my own wishful thinking clouding my ears, though, since I certainly hope that Mr. Halford would aspire to better than this rubbish. Perhaps if the music itself kicked any ass on its own, at least something from this album could be salvaged, but this sounds like the worst, lamest of the unused castoffs from the last 20 years of Halford’s musical career (discounting the foray into Industrial, or whatever the dementia known as Two was supposed to be), although the final track, “The Mower,” is passable, sounding shockingly different than the others.
For those still not convinced (and who could blame you? I didn’t want to believe it, either!), “Till the Day I Die” is a Country song. Which I suppose explains the fascination with NASCAR and Jesus.

The last time I even thought about this band was when I reviewed 2001’s My God, and the last time I cared was way back in ‘97 when the guys covered Lard’s “Forkboy” on their High album. I’d eventually find out, while interviewing Jello Biafra, that F&J’s bassist Jason Ward is the brother of Lard’s drummer, the late Jeff Ward (also Ministry). But on to The Cold. Am I actually going to recommend a Flotsam and Jetsam album in two-thousand-fucking-ten?!? As amazing as it seems to me, yes, I am. Admittedly, I missed the band’s 2005 opus, Dreams of Death (but I plan to rectify that apparent mistake as quickly as possible), so it may have also been a throwback to this decidedly old school Thrash. But I don’t remember F&J ever sounding as intense as the hardest moments here, or as flawless as the mellowest. Erik AK’s vocals, in the past often a problem for potential fans, occasionally still miss the mark, but never embarrass, and often impress with his emotional range from screaming hatred to the suicidal wail of “Better Off Dead,” which is one of the standout cuts on the album, along with the title track and “Blackened Eyes Staring.” Still, one would have to be able to tolerate vox more melodic than a roar or cackle to appreciate his efforts. There are some misses, though. The “tough-guy” lyrics of “K.Y.A.” (“I will kick your ass, you crying pussy”) seem to not belong to the same band that wrote the introspective rest of the album. It may be a backhanded compliment to say that The Cold is surprisingly good, but the truth is that I was shocked by how much I enjoyed this.

The most anticipated release of 2010 is upon us! When you think of how the musical landscape has changed since Varg’s incarceration and last Metal album, it really is amazing. Amazing what passes for Black Metal these days, that is. Take a look at the infamous Inner Circle. Sure, Immortal and Satyricon are still decent bands, but Darkthrone (now a slightly more primitive Gorilla Biscuits), Ishahn (putting out glorified Air Supply records), and Mayhem (20 years/20 good songs) aren’t worth a piss anymore. I won’t even address NWOCBM (New Wave of College Black Metal) as it would be unfair to the Count, but if you would have told him Dimmu Borgir was the best Black Metal band around these days, he may have volunteered to stay in prison. But enough, let’s get down to business. Belus is exactly what I was hoping for. It’s like all the non-keyboard Burzum albums rolled into one. The anger and fury of Burzum/Aske hand-in-hand with the precise, epic melancholy of Filosofem. Nearly two decades in the clink haven’t taken the edge off of Virkenes, his sorely missed vocals sound great. More mature yet still brimming with misanthropic rage. His strongest quality, however, was always the riffs and Belus is no exception. Repetitive, bleak, melodic, and memorable. It’s nice to see the original rise up again and school the legion of cheap imitators. If I had one small quip, it would be the album’s final two cuts. Basically 18 minutes of droning, moody outro with little to no vocal action. Nevertheless, a triumphant return. The major PC Metal media will probably go out of their way to condemn this album due to Varg’s political beliefs and the fact that they are all pretty much Post Metal posers nowadays (although the Count does have quite a long scruffy beard at the moment, so there is a chance…), but I for one am ecstatic that the master is playing “nigger music” once again.

Southern Deathcore-turned-Death Metal outfit Through the Eyes of the Dead don’t have much luck with vocalists. Youngster Danny Rodriguez is their third in three albums, and with the overwhelming brutality and heaviness of 2007’s breakthrough Malice due in large part to the demon-possessed bear vocals of ex-frontman Nate Johnson, he has big shoes to fill. Musically the band is as tight as ever. While I had no problem with their original breakdown-fueled Metalcore attack of albums past, I’ll take their full-on Death Metal assault any day. They still incorporate some of their old tricks, and while Skepsis may not be quite the monster Malice was, it still decimates. As far as Rodriguez’s vocals go, he is a formidable replacement to say the least. In fact, I honestly couldn’t tell it was a different guy until I looked. If you’re looking for pure brutality, crank this up and try not to shart yourself.

What more can be said of the remarkable 20-year career of the mighty Immolation? How many bands can lay claim to their eighth full-length album having the same jarring ferocity as their first or second? Immolation simply are not interested in fixing what is not broken. Essentially the same formula as any one of their nearly flawless albums, Majesty and Decay sizzles and jabs with the band’s trademark technical proficiency and atonal brutality. Quite possibly the best production the band have ever achieved with the rhythm section and Ross Dolan’s bestial, demonic roar the primary beneficiaries. Bob Vigna is still the jagged riff master, his otherworldly concoctions are in a distant league of their own. Immolation have always succeeded in making their own brand of Death Metal their own way. Boundary pushing brutality and unmatched creativity, yet still memorable and beyond focused. The completely pro-Jesus Christ lyrics on this album did throw me for a loop at first though. Ha! Just kidding. Favorites: “The Purge,” “A Token of Malice,” “The Rapture of Ghosts,” and “The Comfort of Cowards.”

Deathcore is becoming quite the dirty word in the Extreme Music community. Take the UK’s Annotations of an Autopsy, whose debut album Before the Throne of Infection was a solid, brutal chugfest of blasting and breakdowns. It received scathingly poor reviews from nearly everyone (except the massive crowds attending their shows, that’s odd). “We’ve heard it all before” seems to be the battle cry of the critics. It’s much more honorable and novel to heap praise on Neurosis clones I guess. That’s not a trend at all (bandwagon-jumping fucks). So, with 2010’s new offering from the band, minus 3 original members who left the band to play full time in Ingetsed (a great Deathcore troupe in their own right), responds by shedding much of the Core and emphasizing almost exclusively on the Death. You won’t hear any complaints from me, as the young band can apparently tackle any style they desire. Reign of Darkness is the best Death Metal album of the year. Okay, as of press time in early February it’s the only Death Metal album of the year so far, but it’s still a damn good one. And scenesters, don’t be scared, there’s still hints of that slamming groove hidden throughout the core of this Deathly assault.

Who gives a fuck about Fear Factory in 2010? No one relevant actually, but in reality a lot of people do by Extreme Music’s standards. I loved Soul of a New Machine, in essence a Death Metal album possessed by Streetcleaner’s ghost, but was repulsed by the Industrial Pantera vibe of Demanufacture (everyone’s favorite, go figure). However, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit they rebounded nicely with Obsolete, finally trademarking their own heavy sound with strokes of Pop Metal genius (“Resurrection” is a fucking brilliant song). Digimortal had its moments, but the band fell apart shortly thereafter due to petty inner turmoil. Booting founding guitarist Dino Cazares turned out to be a pretty bad idea, as the music suffered greatly in his absence. Which leads us to the present and the return of big Dino, exit Olde-Wolbers and drum god Raymond Herrera? I think this is all over pussy. Isn’t it always? But who cares? Enter drum god Gene fucking Hoglan! The drummer extraordinaire for hire is now pounding skins for Fear Factory and mimicking the Herrera style with ease. Perhaps even perfecting it further, as his presence on standout cut “Powershifter” is immediately felt with brute force. As with any Fear Factory album, expect filler, but the band sound rejuvenated, refocused, and perhaps heavier than ever.

Absolutely fucking tragic. The unexplainable need felt by the majority to fix what is not broken. To take what already works perfectly and try to make it better. Rampant everywhere in society and now evident in the mighty catalog of Greek Black Metal legends Rotting Christ. From their raw, primitive early works to their more experimental recent material, and the perfect balance of the two I found in the all too brief A Dead Poem/Sleep of the Angels era, the “Grecian formula” was solid and it fucking worked. With Aealo, the need to fix what is not broken is the only formula. Could it be the seminally trend retardant masters have succumbed to the accursed Viking/Pagan/Swords/Pirates/35-Year Old Virgin Metal trend? It would appear to be painfully true. The cover of the album is a battle helmet and the album pretty much plays like the lost soundtrack to 300. The primary enjoyment destroyers of this album are the horrible female backing vocals. They sound like something out of a bad Nile song, and there’s lots of them. There is also a plethora of guest vocal appearances from guys who have no business singing. And the saddest aspect, underneath the bullshit choir practice and role playing atmosphere is a core made of those perfect, epic, soaring Rotting Christ melodies that have defined them for over two decades. Had they been left alone, this would have been another near perfect chapter in a magnificent musical career. As is, only “Noctis Era” and “…Pir Threontai” are tolerable.

A 19-year career in Extreme Metal usually produces more than two LPs and a legendary EP, but quality is preferred over quantity anyway. And while 2007’s Left Hand Pathology lacked a little of said quality, Corpus in Extremis: Analysing Necroticism makes up for it big time. By infusing a touch of that Old School Swedish Death Metal into their Carcass-worshipping Grindcore assault, General Surgery have crafted an instant classic. Like Entombed freebasing Pathologist riffs, this album hits hard and dirty, short and quick. These are easily the best riffs they’ve ever written, and they haven’t sacrificed much if any of that gurgling ooze delivery. If veteran Swedes themselves can’t get away with robbing the Sunlight vault, who can? And it makes sense, after all, don’t forget the Carcass/Carnage connection. All I know is General Surgery finally sound like a band that once featured Matti Karki.

Admittedly I’m a little biased when it comes to Varathron, but that said, this is not only the band’s best recording ever, Stygian Forces of Scorn is one of the greatest Black Metal albums of all time. The complexity, intensity, and majesty of this masterwork absolutely annihilates newer Rotting Christ, the de facto leader of the Greek Black Metal scene. Part of the key to Varathron’s perfection is that main-man Necroabyssious knows what so many others seem to have forgotten: Black Metal is Metal! It’s not Techno, or Punk, or any of 666 other bad ideas that various artists have tried over the years. Those experiments virtually always fail. Please do not misunderstand me: I am not trying to say that these songs all sound the same, or at Necroabyssious will not try new ideas. This album sounds absolutely new, due to both the stunning production and amazing songwriting, and is exploding with the kind of musical details that I would expect from Varathron, while no speed, heaviness, or complexity is sacrificed on the altar of being “different.” From the mind-liquefying beginning riffs of “Behind the Mask,” to the mournful “Where the Walls Weep,” to the last seconds of album-closer “Aclo Savaoth Soth” -honestly, every moment of every song on here- Stygian Forces of Scorn is so flawless as to almost be beyond belief in all ways. You will be haunted by this music from beyond the abyss.

These German Tech Death aficionados may know how to do otherworldly things with their instruments, but they definitely need tracklist order lessons. A small quip, but the first three tracks on Side Effects Expected are pure filler. Fast, punishing and brutal filler, but not much more than endurance tests and showing off the chops. The next few tracks show improvement in structure, but it isn’t until tracks eight (“Dripping Red Canvas”) and nine (“Selfmade Cage”) that Centaurus-A really show you they can make a memorable song. These two cuts bend, hook and pummel in a way the others do not while sacrificing none of the flair. But by then, the record is nearly over having only just recently hit you as hard as it can. So in summary, Centaurus-A can really cook, but their debut is too many appetizers and not enough main course.

Dark Funeral never seem to get the respect they deserve. Not quite trve or kvlt enough for the original wave of church-burning enthusiasts, and now much too riff and song-oriented for the College Black Metal crowd. Sorry, kids. No 31-minute songs that sound like AM radio static to be found here. Not to mention a real drummer, a real record produced in a real studio, and band members who’ve been laid. They just don’t have anything going for them I guess. Actually they do, and this impossible-to-say-or-remember Latin-named album is just as good as their last impossible-to-say-or-remember Latin-named album. They pretty much fit the same mold, lightning fast speed and intensity with inhuman blasting that occasionally gives way to Doomier or mid-paced melodic passages (“Stigmata,” “My Funeral,” “In My Dreams”) which turn out to be the album’s real standout cuts. And cheers to Masse Broberg (aka: Emperor Magus Caligula), a great Death Metal vocalist back in the day and a great Black Metal vocalist now. A rare feat indeed. With Black Metal’s once bright flame now reduced to a few glowing embers, consistently awesome bands like Dark Funeral are a bestial breath of fresh kerosene.

I don’t much care for instrumental bands. I’m not sure why but they just don’t hold my interest, at least for very long. Instrumental Metal bands, or Instrumetal if you prefer, are usually extremely talented but that is not the issue at hand. A band without a vocalist to me is like a cheeseburger with no bottom bun. Sure it can still be tasty, but something is missing. And when I watch instrumental bands play live, it just feels like practice. What can I say, I dig vocals. And on that note, we come to Germany’s Long Distance Calling. An instrumental band that are extremely talented (no surprise there) and especially gifted when it comes to crafting a somber atmosphere. Their songs are, for a lack of a better word, pretty. What sets them apart from all the rest, you ask? How about guest vocals from God among men Jonas Renske? That’s right, Katatonia fans, you heard me right. Jonas lends his magical lungs to “The Nearing Grave,” the only cut on the album with vocals and an absolute masterpiece of a song! It’s like a long lost Katatonia track intact with Anders Nystrom-style guitar playing and a chorus that nails itself to your cerebral cortex permanently by the second repetition. I try to listen to this song 666 times a day, but sometimes I go over. Renske’s guest appearance single-handedly transforms Avoid the Light from competent and well played background music to an all-out essential release for all non-posers.

I never thought in a million years that I could grow tired of reviewing Katatonia albums. They are my favorite band of all time, so it would seem strange that I take no pleasure in critiquing their music. Maybe it’s because I can find no fault with them. It seems like only yesterday I was 15 years old in my room listening to “Without God” on repeat for several hours. Maybe it’s because, at this point, there seems to be no purpose in a review. If you don’t already worship at the suicidal altar of Katatonia, you’re a stupid piece of happy shit and you don’t deserve to breathe, let alone read something I wrote. While every major Metal mag’s year end “Best of 2009” lists sang the praises of sonic masturbation like Baroness, Mastodon, and the criminally overrated Converge, the true best album of 2009 (’08 and ’07 too for that matter) was nowhere in sight. So what’s the point? No band of any era can hold a candle to Sweden’s masters of the morose, even when the album in question was met with a supposed case of “writer’s block.” An astonishing statement considering the end result’s stunning perfection. The majority of the album was written by Jonas this time around, and if this is writer’s block, I know many who would kill to obtain it. A natural progression from The Great Cold Distance (coincidentally, the best album of 2006), it’s a moodier record with a truly somber atmosphere enhanced by an uncharacteristically high involvement of keyboards. But fear not, Katatonia can do no wrong. As with any one of their completely flawless albums, it is the sadness that prevails. Not that anyone will care. If you need me I’ll be in my room listening to “Departer” on repeat for several hours.

Featuring the original lineup at the legendary Los Angeles venue, this was originally intended to be a DVD release. However, the original and only VHS tape of this 1999 concert was unfortunately destroyed during the digitizing process, leaving only a few salvaged images which are featured in the CD booklet. As a live album, Live at the Whisky A Go Go is plagued by inadequate sound and an inexplicably poor set list. The majority of the material being from The Fine Art of Murder is understandable, as this was their most current release at the time, but do we really need four cuts from Retribution? Only two songs apiece from cornerstone releases The Ten Commandments and Eternal? Nothing at all from the mighty In Cold Blood? Inexcusable. Still, a bad live album from these Floridian Death Metal legends beats most bands’ Pro Tooled studio affairs these days, and at the very least, worth owning for posterity’s sake.

As revered and highly regarded as I hold Krisiun’s earlier works (namely 1997’s Black Force Domain and 1998’s Apocalyptic Revelation), to me they turned the creative corner with 2003’s Works of Carnage. This was the first time they integrated that razor sharp groove into their inhumanly fast attack. With the following year’s Bloodshed EP, they really began to hit their creative stride and started knocking at the door of their creative peak. Then with 2006’s AssassiNation they broke the door down and murdered every living thing in sight. Why am I in History Channel mode with the Krisiun timeline you ask? Well, sadly because with Southern Storm, it seems Krisiun have hit somewhat of a creative wall. Not that it’s by any means a bad album. Krisiun don’t know how to make a bad album. It’s just not as good. Not as memorable, not as dynamic, more like a slight return to their Conquerors of Armageddon / Ageless Venomous form. Fast, brutal speed and not much else. All groove elements here are pretty much delegated to the cover of Sepultura’s “Refuse/Resist,” which oddly serves as this album’s only real standout cut.

A two-disc, remastered package of the classic Death Fiend, Triumph of Death, and Satanic Rites demos. Things still sound a bit rough, but guaranteed to be an improvement over the flea market bootlegs of this material we all have tucked away somewhere. This kind of collection really sells itself, and it’s something you either have to own or completely don’t care about. Everyone should do themselves a favor and pick up a piece of underground Metal history, not to mention the launching pad for not only Celtic Frost, but just about every single Death Metal band that ever claimed Old School. Plus these demos are where every original member of Mayhem stole their stage name from.