“Indeed, my indirect memories of the 70s feature objects and trends grown shabby from age and eventually replaced by neon colors, Reaganomics and synth pop. Raleigh, North Carolina’s Lightning Born, on the other hand, remember the 70’s in living detail and have preserved them in pristine amber on their full-length eponymous debut.” Lightning born, time frozen.
“Flub is something of a supergroup, with current and ex-members of Rivers of Nihil, Alterbeast and Vale of Pnath, though their sound is markedly different than the sum of their parts. Lyrically this is standard fare for the genre—subcategory fantasy—with the tale of a hero who is possessed at the end of his life by an entity bent on destroying Mother Nature herself, but musically Flub is a bit more colorful and damn near uplifting when compared to the members’ other bands. Make no mistake, there is still brutal death metal baked into this evil fruit pie.” Little Jack Horner stays tech.
“Editing is a big part of the creative process that few non-creators see. For every song set to record, there are others that remain demos or are simply never recorded. For every painting in a gallery, others sit in storage or are scraped away to salvage a canvas. Novelists work with editors before their books hit the shelves, and this is after they’ve already narrowed down their own ideas. When a band announces a new album in consecutive years, it’s reasonable to worry that whatever they’ve been baking is still doughy in the middle. So when I saw that the mad Frenchman behind blackened death metal project Esoctrilihum was set to release his FOURTH MOTHERFORKING ALBUM SINCE 2017, I was dubious.” Too much too soon?
“Trumpeting Ecstasy’s untempered viciousness and surprising experimentation was a breath of putrid air amongst the usual Cherd-bait of 2017. Had I been employed by this hallowed site at the time, I would have seriously considered slapping a 4.5 on it and endured the cries of ‘Overrating bastard!’ hurled at me from my superiors. So when I saw follow-up Weeping Choir pop into our promo bin, I jumped on it faster than Game of Thrones’ quality tanked once it outstripped the books.” Hallowed grind.
“I’m naturally drawn to tags that promise something slow and heavy, so when I saw “blackened doom” next to the name Nibiru, you’d forgive me if visions of another Indian danced in my head. In reality, Salbrox, the sixth full length by these Italians, would be better described as spoken word noise/drone metal. This curve ball may have knocked some reviewers off balance, but bitch, I went to art school.” School is way out.
“The songs on Love & Decay are post-metal in structure with moments of sludge/doom heft, but damn it if Spotlights don’t frequently sound like My Bloody Valentine started down tuning their guitars and forgot to stop. Or like a much heavier Starflyer 59 back when they were accused of being a My Bloody Valentine knock-off. If you’re not following, take a break and go listen to Loveless. We’ll still be here when you get back.” Up in lights.
“Grief can seemingly last forever. Whether you’re actively working through it or just passively experiencing its various stages, grief is a marathon, not a sprint. Excitement, on the other hand, is always fleeting. Moments of joy, fright or rage flare up and burn out quickly. Excitement is not a state that can be sustained for long. Grief, sorrow, despondency, these can last indefinitely. There’s a reason grindcore albums never break 30 minutes while funeral doom albums stretch well past an hour. If it takes time to experience, it will take time to express. But listening to the genre at its best isn’t about being patient, as if there’s some reward at the end. It’s more about allowing yourself to be borne along by the slow process. Minneapolis, Minnesota’s Chalice of Suffering—612, represent—is here to take you on a long journey through the deepest despair.” Playing the long winter game.
“The AMG higher-ups fancy themselves benevolent despots. That’s because they allow us relative freedom to choose our own promos and surprise us with pizza and hobo wine office parties now and then. Occasionally they’ll even offer tepid praise after our reviews are published. Sure, the quarterly beatings leave marks, but they rarely break the skin. Then again, if they see us getting too comfortable, they’ll assert their authority by assigning reviews that leave us just enough rope to hang ourselves. They might make brutal boi Kronos review symphonic power metal, or give our morose Muppet a jaunty pirate metal sing-along. For reasons beyond my understanding, they saw the words Glitter Wizard in the promo sump and thought, “Now there’s a stop-bang pooper doop if we’ve ever seen one, and we know just the writer for the job.”” Feel the opera.
“Inter Arma will not be pigeonholed. They’ve repeated this statement with each subsequent release, evolving subtly across a range of styles, but always sounding unmistakably like themselves. When a new album was announced for 2019, I quickly contacted resident man cat Grymm, who glowingly reviewed 2016’s Paradise Gallows, and pathetically begged confidently informed him that I would be handling this one. He pitied me respected my assertiveness and relinquished review duties.” Burning expectations.
“I’ll be the first to admit that I know precious little about the technical process of recording an album. The musician side of things is easy enough to grasp, but the technicians who collect, mix, and master the sounds thrown out into the ether may as well be a sect of wizards engaged in super secret wiz biz. Although I don’t understand how they do their jobs—I imagine it involves summoning Akathla, demon of the Low End—I do know that the decisions they make are ultimately aesthetic ones. This means when it comes to production, it’s not so much about if it’s good or bad, but whether or not it works with the music to create an aesthetic you enjoy.” Noise to the grindstone.
