“If you aren’t familiar with Cynic… I guess just fuck you? Look at another website, loser. If you are, I can tell you right off the bat that the Seans are dearly missed. I’m not familiar with the role of Malone & Reinert in shaping the band’s ambitions, but Ascension Codes does seem like a case of Masvidal just running with it and trying to make the most Cynic-ass record he could without them.” Rise and get weird.
“Rien ne suffit: nothing is enough. For Plebeian Grandstand, it might as well be a motto. The Toulouse have made their career defying categorization, and pushing each release to be something new, something more. How Hate is Hard to Define set a bar for blackened mathcore that no other record has come close to clearing, only for the band to sink into sludgy, dissonant black metal with Lowgazers. That muddy reek was fired with death metal oppression to make the gleaming False Highs, True Lows, and now, with Rien ne Suffit, it is shattered.” Enough is never MOAR.
“In the last decade, a cadre of death metal bands have stretched the limits of evil sound, using their technical skills to explore uncommon harmonic territories and bizarre anti-melody. First Fragment are not one of them. First Fragment are giant show-offs who stretch the limits of shred and use their technical skills to combine neoclassical melody with flamenco and swing, and I love them for it.” 19 pieces of flair.
“It brings me no pleasure to inform you that the new Archspire record kind of sucks.” If it bleeds, it leads.
“A month ago in the low coast range hills, I found Hellinsia homodactylus folded beneath the lamplight – the modestly named plain plume moth. Mute white in the shape of a Beksiński cross, the insect appears impossible when still, betraying the feathery wings that gasp in the still pockets between oak leaves and wisp in the pupil of the ash-yellowed moon. Theirs is a gaunt beauty, beauty which Norse have both embodied and spurned in their last seven years of stark and intimate black metal.” Nature vs science.
“Three years have passed since their Negative Life debut, and by the sound of it, Replicant spent not a moment of them fucking around. With a sound newly honed to scalpel precision, the New Jersey trio radiate a septic valor, the fearsome pride of the canny skid row pugilist whose sweat-slicked wounds repel as many challengers as their calloused knuckles. They dominate each bout and dedicate the win to those who taught them: Steve Hurdle and John Gallagher.” Replicating nasty realities.
“After maybe 300 reviews, I’d estimate I’ve locked up several kilobytes of server space recommending artists work with Colin Marston. As a result, I of course take full credit for all the bands that line up to record with him and receive a small monthly stipend from the Menegroth budget. But not every band has to take that advice, and since my kickback is limited by studio throughput, I’m in the market for another producer to praise/shake down. That’s where Argentina’s Tumba de Carne come in.” Tumba thumper.
“Following Kronos’ law of increasing hippietude, Rivers of Nihil have slowly softened their deathcore- and djent- influenced progressive death metal in order to embrace their more sensitive side. Their last record, Where Owls Know My Name, saw this softening succeed, the band now not too far removed from prog metal standbys Between the Buried and Me, sans the hyperactivity. Owls twined the band’s inherited heft and emotional valence into a few very strong songs and a respectable album, proof that the hippiefication process is not all bad. The Work takes it one puff further, balancing every moment of death metal intensity with one or two of chill prog.” Hip and sprawl.
“The main problem with death metal is that it’s boring as hell. That may seem rich coming from The Guy Who You Know Exists Only Because of His Profuse Writing About Death Metal, but that’s also why you’re here, isn’t it? You know death metal is boring. If you wanted to listen to boring-ass death metal, you would just do it. Instead, you come here to read articles written by over-educated losers who let you know ahead of time which records manage to make death metal not boring. Spread Plague Death is not one of them.” Zzzzzeath.
“Spurred into action by Dear Hollow’s aggressive maneuvering towards my station as the Sole Arbiter of Brutality, I’m forced to toil in the less productive shafts of the criticism mines. This week sees me stumbling through the murk of the promo sump like a common probationary writer, grasping towards anything familiar and grabbing hold of Deformatory. The Ottowans’ last record, Malediction, was less than remarkable, but the basic conceit – ‘90s and ’00s Cryptopsy combined without all the wacky stuff – is worth more than one try.” Crypt lickers.
