“I admit it, I can be a sadistic reviewer. Finding a truly, deeply terrible album gives me a certain perverse glee at the prospect of creatively tearing the malformed afterbirth to ribbons. The feeling is generally strong enough to overpower the dry heaves and stomach-clenching nausea of actually listening to it. But I have found my Waterloo.” The sky is falling (and dying).
“In what is sure to be a heart-stopping shock to readers, I’m embarking upon a mid-length review of a brutal death metal album from Italy that I’m not terribly fond of. Gasp and swoon though you may, if you survey recent examples of Italian brutal death metal reviewed in this august publication, the Kronos name is not too thick in the ground, and that’s intentional. I’m a devout opponent of the style of brutal death pioneered by Hour of Penance and copied by so many of their Mediterranean peers and do my best to avoid reviewing death bands who play in the style simply because it’s a lose-lose situation.” Death in Venice (or nearby).
“From the beginning, metal was the place for wayward souls to find refuge from society’s scornful gaze. Be you a high school drop-out, a Dungeons & Dragons bespectacled nerd, or just someone who didn’t click with the cliques, metal provided a soapbox to the disenfranchised yearning to give voice to their frustrations. Born from the rejection of consumerism and music’s increasing pomposity, punk too acted as a bulwark against the hegemony, drawing a rebellious fringe to its anarchistic bosom. As metal and punk grew in popularity, a disillusioned minority rebelled against their respective subculture’s dalliance with mainstream acceptance and fused elements of the two genres to create something truly repugnant: grindcore.” Hitting the Stonewall of grind.
“Hoo boy! It’s the 7th of November and I’m dropping the Record(s) o’ the Month from October. What on earth will you people do with yourselves when you don’t have a late Record o’ the Month to complain about? Oh right, you’ll complain about the record I chose. I’d say “You can’t win all the time,” but when it comes to the RotM that’s not true. I do win all the time.” Trolling with timeliness.
“Unlike the more northerly regions of Europe, the Iberian Peninsula is not often thought of when the metal scene is considered as a whole. There are bands, many of them well-known and respected, but the area is not Germany or Finland. Thought of even less is the Galacia region of Spain. But all the same, it’s spat up a lively little melodic death three-piece (after some down-sizing) in Bloodhunter. The name might be a little silly, but the music is not, fusing a traditional Gothenberg sound with hints of mid-period Death for their sophomore album The End of Faith.” The Iberian conspiracy.
“The release of Keldian’s Outbound was a lance of brilliant solar energy that ignited the band’s fan-base and whipped long-timers and newcomers alike into a frenzy. While none of us expected another end-to-end burner, the general vibe that Andresen and Aardalen exude is one of utter consistency and reliability. In this day and age, these are precious commodities!” Consistent quality is not a hobgoblin.
“The world has moved on, woe Discordia, and every day sees more and more elements of the past being phased out of existence. Goodbye, Pogs. Farewell, AIM. RIP Nu-Metal (no, seriously, please rest). The sands of time are a cruel invading force, whatever will they snatch up next? Chile’s Thy Serpent’s Cult may be bowing out of the fight after nine years of thrashing to death, but their answer, given in their swan scream album Supremacy of Chaos, remains as trve and timeless as ever: Not our fucking death metal.” Time waits for no band.
“Our lovable cat-man Grymm described the Brits’ debut Comrades in Death as “frustratingly average,” with perhaps a tilt toward the “frustrating.” The descriptor fit the record’s unevenness snugly, as the offering straddled sublimity and snooze-inducement. Follow-up Mechanisms of Misanthropy smooths out Stahlsarg’s wrinkled edges, but seesaws into “average” territory as well.” The battle for attention.
“Forgotten Tomb’s recent output has taken on a chunkier form – thick chord patterns becoming the prominent mode of expression. Their depressive black metal escapades of the early 2000s eradicated: the icy sheen of their stabbing tremolo making way for swampier humidity.” King of the Swamp or merely soggy?
“I’ll begin with what Fragarak get right. Their music is a hodgepodge of influences from Opeth, Vektor, and Obscura, two of whom are really worth being influenced by.” We don’t discuss influences with fans.
